Crystal ClearChapter 27: Filming And Sex In The Alps free porn video

The powers that be at Sony Entertainment had decided that Wengen, Switzerland, would be the perfect place to film the outdoor ski scenes for our movie Downslope. The small ski town was serviced by a rack railway system. The massive and famous Eiger rises spectacularly in front of the town, a well-known part of the Alps. Ski slopes of all varieties and difficulties left from the town, with a wide variety of transport to return to home base once some end point had been reached.

Crystal and I stood outside on the protected porch of the Luise Wengen, a holiday rental Sony had arranged for us. Crystal, Ellen, Claire, and I had been placed on the top floor of the inn in two adjoining small apartments. The rooms were comfortable but sterile.

Below us, skiers schussed by at varying rates of speed, a few pulling up to our building to dismount their skis and return to their lodgings below or nearby. We wouldn't get any skiing in today; the afternoon was already late and the ski lifts were closing soon.

The most impressive part of our view however, was not the ski slopes, but the Eiger, which rose to over 13,000 feet in front of us – a huge and imposing mountain of granite that we read about on the journey across the Atlantic. Many climbers had lost their lives trying to scale the fearsome north face of the mountain that rose vertically several thousand feet.

Nearby, the Monch and Jungfrau punctuated the sky, a tribute to the entire Alpine mountain chain, and the pushing together about three hundred million years earlier of two immense tectonic plates riding on the mantel of the earth's core. The mountains were humbling, and something no man should miss seeing. Forever after you will remember the old saying, 'Men come and men go, but earth abides.'

Our movie crew was scattered at hotels all through Wengen and at some of the places near Berne, down on flatter terrain. No vehicles were allowed in the town, so all our equipment had been transported up on the rack railway at least a week earlier. The Swiss film crew had been here even earlier, planning each sequence of shots so that our efforts would be efficient during our month-long stay at the resort.

At least in this part of the world, Crystal and I were less likely to be identified. We took solace in that until Terry called to our attention the fact that Sony had sent out various press releases about our filming and whom the 'great' stars in the production were. Crystal groaned. I tried to assure her that once she had on her snow bunny suit with ski goggles no one in the world would know who she was, not even her mother.

Our inner clocks were all messed up because of jet lag; so, I couldn't get to sleep. Crystal and Claire on the other hand seemed to zone right out, but then I'd slept on the airplane going to Switzerland, and they'd read and watched a movie.

Ellen had also slept, so she and I found each other in the common room of the inn we were at. We talked for a bit, and then Ellen made me an offer I couldn't refuse – wonderful wanton gratuitous and loving sex. We went up to the room she shared with Claire, snuck into the room to the tune of Claire's heavy breathing, stripped our clothes off, and crawled into Ellen's double bed. The room was cold so we mutually agreed that all activities would be conducted beneath the covers.

Ellen and I stroked and smoothed each other's bodies for a little, with me paying particular attention to her full breasts.

Ellen whispered, "I haven't had you all to myself in ages. This is such a treat. I hope you'll sleep with me tonight after we make love."

I pledged that I would, and we then started our under-the-covers intercourse. In no time at all, we were overheated and fucking on top of the covers, relishing the cool air on our sexed up bodies. I briefly thought of the outdoor fuck I'd had with Lauren a few days earlier on her back deck as the snow fell around us. Crystal had watched us from inside laughing as we carried on having fun in our romance.

Ellen hadn't noticed, but a shaft of light from outside the inn dimly lit Claire's bed. I saw that Claire was awake and watching us. She'd pulled the covers away from her nude body, and had started to masturbate as she watched us. I got harder just watching her over Ellen's shoulder. We were in part of the room with more light coming in the windows so she had a good view of our lovemaking. I guess I liked being an exhibitionist, but then I also liked to watch as a voyeur, and of course, participation was even better.

Ellen and I took turns being on top of each other. We started in missionary, went to cowgirl, came back to missionary but with her legs over my shoulders, went to reverse cowgirl, sixty-nined for a bit, and back to cowgirl – Ellen's favorite position because she can control the speed and intensity of the fuck, and that night she wanted fast and furious.

"Cum in me. Pump me full of your cum," Ellen gasped out in a whisper as her hips made wild oscillations back and forth over my cock. Even in the dim light, I could see how her pussy ate my cock to its full extent, and then pulled off me until only the very tip of my mushroom crown touched the entrance to her vagina.

I whispered, "You want cum; you got cum." I accelerated my up strokes into her down strokes, and used my thumb on her clit. Ellen's head went back, but there was no cessation of speed or intensity in her passion. Our bodies slapped together; there was no way the rest of the inn didn't know what we were doing, let alone Claire.

I started to blast my cum into her cunt, a full load since I hadn't had sex with anyone for over twenty-four hours. The first injection of my semen into Ellen's pussy triggered her orgasm. She gasped, and then squeaked, partly because she wanted to be quiet and partly because she would have awoken the entire inn to our successful mating if unrestrained.

I heard a gasp and large sigh from the other bed in the room. Claire had cum with us. I looked, and her head was thrown back in the paroxysm of her own climax. Claire's fingers were buried in her cunt, frozen in place by the pleasure she'd found at her peak.

Ellen came into my arms, and we shared several passionate minutes together. Gradually, our physiology came back to feeling the cool room, so we slipped back under the covers. As we did, Ellen said aloud, "Claire, you can come and join us if you want. It'll be tight, but we love you and don't want to shut you out if you want to be with us."

Claire's nude body nestled next to me ten seconds later. The three of us then fell asleep.

"HE WHAT?" My exclamation echoed around the common room of our Swiss inn almost as good as a loud yodel in the mountains.

In a calm voice, Mark Ang explained to me a second time, "We were filming a ski run, and Jason wiped out. He broke a leg and fractured a rib. He can't be your stunt double the rest of this movie. We're trying to locate someone that can take his place; it might take a week or more. He was a good skier and will be hard to replace. None of the other stunt men are up to the task; besides they don't even come close to looking like you. They have other roles in the movie anyway in the chase scene."

I said, "And you want me to do some of my own 'stunts' during the time you look for someone else? Like the run down the mountain from Piz Gloria? You're fucking nuts!" I knew Mark Ang, our film's director, well enough to call him names, but I restrained myself further. He was also a co-producer of the film along with Crystal and me. I stomped around in a large circle.

Jason Lake and I were nearly twins, although he was younger, and hence more nimble, particularly on skis – or he had been on skis. Breaking a bone was a major setback in the schedule unless I stepped up to the plate and started to do some of my 'own' stunts – the stunts Jason was going to take over for me. If I broke a leg movie production would come to a complete stop; the same for Crystal and for that matter Claire who played a strong supporting role in the film. We already had hundreds of hours of film with each of us in various scenes. I knew they had filmed Jason for many scenes already, but the 'Big Scene' in the movie hadn't been done yet – a ski run from Piz Gloria down an expert slope being chased by bad guys with machine guns and a helicopter gun ship.

I stomped around the common room at the inn where we'd been meeting with a couple of dozen other production people. "OK, I'll do it, but I can't ... I won't go downhill at a hundred miles an hour the way Jason could."

Boy did I get that wrong!

Mark said, "We can play with the film speed a little to make it go faster, plus we're going to put small 'U's' on the back of your skis so that they kick up more snow behind you; that'll make it look like you're going faster than you are – it was Jason's idea."

I asked, "Where is he?"

"He's spending the night asleep on painkillers in a hospital in Berne, with a cast up to his waist, I'm told. He was very concerned about his sex life, but he confided in me that a pretty Swiss nurse had befriended him, and at least relieved some of his 'tension.' We arranged to fly him back to L.A. tomorrow. You can see him there when you return stateside. The doc said he'd be out of the cast in six to eight weeks."

An hour later, I rode up the aerial cable from Stechelberg to the Schilthorn, a very tall and very steep Alp. At the top was the Piz Gloria restaurant, almost a monument to a 1969 James Bond film that featured scenes around the restaurant and a daring ski run down the mountain – a very steep mountain. We were using the same mountain, but downplaying the use of the same scenery as the forty-plus year old Bond movie. My philosophy about this was that imitation was a great form of flattery to that earlier effort.

Mark and a couple of the production crew stood with me and explained what they wanted me to do. "As you push off here, you'll see blue paint here and there on the snow. Try to overrun those benchmarks with your skis. Those marks have been strategically placed to mark a perfect path for your run, plus they'll keep you out of trouble. We have cameramen hidden all the way down the slope, a few even buried in snow banks that you'll pass. If you stick to the blue course we've marked out, you'll pass right by them and we'll get some fabulous shots of you careening down the mountain. We can easily get rid of the blue marks on the snow during editing."

I asked, "That's all?" I knew there had to be more. I didn't like the word 'careening.'

Mark grinned and said, "Of course not. Behind you will be the six Ninja guys you've been fleeing on skis and snowboards. They'll be carrying semiautomatic handguns and high-powered rifles, and will be shooting at you all the way down the mountain, mostly automatic weapon fire. The guns are rigged to give off high muzzle flash so it'll show for the camera in the daylight.

Oh, there'll also be a helicopter shooting at you, but of course not with real bullets, and that's why you have to stick to the path with marked with blue paint, because just off that path, we've got explosives set to go off in synch with your run. Some of the cameramen have helpers with them who'll trigger the explosives as you pass by them. It'll look like the shots from the copter are close to you. You're the hero, so of course you'll make it down unscathed."

I verified in over simplistic terms and great sarcasm, "And all I have to do is ski?"

Mark shook his head. "Didn't you read this script fifty times? No, you occasionally have to turnaround and shoot back at the bad guys or shoot at the helicopter. We'll figure out what shots to use later, but ultimately you'll be knocking off some of the 'bad guys' one by one as you ski down the hill."

I looked over the edge of the precipice down a slope that looked to me like a near vertical drop down the mountain. I yelled at Mark, "HILL? You call this a fucking hill? This is the steepest fucking mountain I've ever been on. It's the steepest fucking mountain in the world!"

Mark tried to soothe his leading actor, "Jim, you'll do fine. Now, just get ready and wait for the cue to start your run. Oh, check in with the film crew at the bottom. We have radio contact with them, and we can see whether we need a redo of the run."

"If I make it down this suicide mission of yours alive, you aren't getting a second run out of me!" I declared in rather firm terms. I think Mark knew that. I had my doubts about making it to the bottom in one piece. I hoped my girls would take good care of me when I was an invalid.

Mark walked away to talk to the upper camera crew and the 'bad guys.' I knew I'd have a fifteen-second head start on them.

I got my skis on and tightened the bindings to their maximum setting with a special key I carried. I bounced around quite a bit to be sure the bindings would hold on the devilish run. I adjusted my ski clothing, goggles, gloves, and poles, got my fake weapon out, and then waited. I spied the first three blue marks in the snow, but nothing further, partly because the slope became even steeper beyond my line of sight, plus it cut to the right slightly.

I gazed around me. This had to be one of the most beautiful winter scenes on the planet. The way down the mountain was fresh powder, but only about two inches deep on top of an eight to twelve-foot base groomed to facilitate our filming. We could look off and see the Eiger, Jungfrau, and other nearby mountains – immense monoliths of snow-covered granite that reminded any man how humble they should be in the face of the forces that made Earth.

I heard a bullhorn announcement by one of the assistants, "One minute to start. Everyone get ready." I could hear the echo of the words down the slope. I also heard some squawks of radio transmissions of that news.

"Thirty seconds." I heard another series of squawks on various radios as the camera crews down the mountain checked in as 'Ready.'

"OK, JIM MELLON, START YOUR SKI RUN."

I pushed off over the forty-five-degree edge between the level ground I'd been standing on and the initial part of the ski slope. Now, when you draw a forty-five-degree angle on a piece of paper, it doesn't look that steep, but strap a pair of well-waxed skis on your feet and start down a slope at that angle and you realize that you might just have a death wish, and then the slope on that damn mountain got even steeper!

In seconds, I had to be doing sixty to eighty miles an hour, and I was for all intents and purposes out of control. I could see how Jason broke a leg. I wondered if I'd ever see the bottom in anything other than a gurney or coffin.

I schussed past the first two blue marks at near Mach One. I aimed slightly for the third, and that's when I heard the automatic weapon fire over my shoulder. I had a fake pistol in my right hand as I also held the relatively useless ski pole. I aimed back for a microsecond and pretended to fire. In a month or two, some sound engineer would add the appropriate effect of a firing weapon and a film crew would add a muzzle flash if what the camera saw wasn't good enough.

I could hear the helicopter homing in on me, as I spotted the fourth and fifth blue marks in the snow and aimed for them. Another shot behind me.

Suddenly, just to my immediate right as I headed from marker five to six, the snow erupted in a series of large explosions, supposedly the result of cannon fire from the helicopter. I checked my speed slightly at a turn, trying to slow down from terminal velocity. I really couldn't slow down. I found myself wishing I knew how to ski better.

I saw marker seven coming up and nothing but space beyond it. 'OH, SHIT. Mark didn't mention any jumps.'

I couldn't even think about what was happening, it went by so fast. I shot past marker seven and was airborne, and not just for a few feet. I accelerated out into space and began a free fall about a hundred-feet to a lower slope just as steep. I saw more blue markers as I dropped, and as I tried to remain roughly vertical with my skis pointed downhill.

I hit hard, my ass actually sitting down on the backs of my skis for a second before my body inadvertently lurched forward and I started down a near-vertical slope that slowly arched out from the mountain in a curve back to something nearer forty-five degrees from the vertical. I figured by then I had to be going over a hundred-twenty-miles-an-hour.

When I had a slightly stable moment, I aimed my make-believe weapon at the helicopter for a couple of seconds, and then back at my supposed pursuers. I noticed there were fewer of them.

Then, a real moment of truth arrived; I could see the blue marks and the mock cannon fire leading me into a copse of trees. Now, hitting a tree at a hundred or so is a fatal event. I tried to slow to no avail. I dug my edges in to keep to the line of blue markers, coming more frequently now to keep me online through the woods.

Suddenly, I was in the trees in a narrow trail that only allowed minimal turns or corrections. A thousand trees flashed by in five seconds. 'Oh, shit, I am so going to die.'

I kept the mantra, 'Follow the blue markers; follow the blue markers.' I dug in here and there but remained on course, and very unhappy with my increasing downhill speed. Here and there, my ski poles hit trees as I shot by them, knocking the poles back behind me with a vengeance. Even in my most daring teenage 'showoff' days in high school in New England I'd never gone this fast, by far, and positively not through trees. This had to be at least twice again faster than I'd ever been. This also had to be the most dangerous thing I'd ever done in my life. It was a suicide mission.

The edge of my ski clothing caught for a millisecond on a tree branch, flipped a large branch laden with snow all over the place behind me. Another ten-thousand trees flashed by, and suddenly I was in the clear again. More mock cannon fire from the helicopter exploded near me. I aimed and fired at the bird. I aimed and fired behind me, not even turning to see whether I was close to where my pursuers supposedly were. I aimed at the helicopter and fired several times.

I went over a couple of other smaller jumps. At one, I could see I jumped a camera buried in a mound of snow.

I made a couple of wide sweeping turns, like a slalom but without the gates. The turns cut my speed slightly, and my skis chattered on the underlying groomed surface. Powder flew everywhere behind me. I flew over a mogul field, missing many moguls because my speed carried me over almost the entire field. I lost it for a second and almost wiped out as I hit badly on the next to last hummocks on that slope.

The helicopter swooped in low; so low, I thought the landing ski might knock me over. I fired at the bird again as I approached, and as I shot away from our crossover point.

More blue markers flashed by. Thank God there were a lot of them, and I could line up for two or three as I passed by one.

I flew out over another large jump, maybe only fifty feet down this time. Why did I think this was simple compared to what I'd already gone through?

The helicopter made another pass at me. More shots were fired at the bird and my pursuers. Again, I didn't look back to see whether they were there. I felt my speed growing again. I did a slalom turn between blue markers and used it to check my speed slightly, digging in my edges so I produced a small snowstorm off to the side of the trail. As I came out of the turn, I started to fall. The edge of one ski hooked, and I fell back onto my other ski – a deadly event at my speed. I went totally out of control with my tips up.

Luck was with me. When I fell, my totally out of control skis turned downhill towards the next marker. I hit a mogul, and it bounced my body up from my nearly supine turtle-like position on my back. I pulled myself forward, felt my ski edges bite again, and finished the turn at probably about seventy or eighty miles an hour.

Suddenly, the slope opened up. A couple of other trails merged with the one I'd been on, the slope gentled out first to about thirty degrees, and then twenty, and suddenly I felt totally in control for the first time in the entire run, and I slowed my speed even more. I made a couple of pretend shots at a nonexistent helicopter and at pursuers that had long disappeared behind me.

Next, in the distance, I saw the area where the 'bottom-of-the-hill' film crew had set up in the open. A large flag flew with the word "End" on it. I passed the flag at around a hundred feet per second, and schussed to a stop in a long sweeping curve back up the hill ending next to the camera site.

I sidestepped over to the camera crew and dismounted from my skis. My legs were shaking. My insides were shaking. My hands shook so badly from the fear I'd felt the entire ski run they were useless. I fell sideways into the snow and just lay there quaking. I looked over and the film crew was still filming up the hill. One of the production crew said to me, "Where are the others? You must have left 'em in the dust, man." I sat up and eventually stood.

Over a minute went by, and we were approaching the end of the second minute when one by one my Ninja pursuers appeared with weapons drawn, heading down the mountain and shooting ahead at a non-existent me. They passed the flag, and pulled up behind the camera crew as I had.

One of the Ninja's pulled off his goggles and came up to when I now stood. He got right in my face and stared at me. "You are one fucking insane leading actor. I'm an expert skier – we all are. You had to be going a hundred-twenty or more down that mountain – maybe more. Fuck man! And, I have never seen anyone fly over an entire mogul field – just never. Shit, we had to bounce off every one of those suckers just to try to keep up with you. And you jumped like – I can't believe it – the entire fucking field. You went way out past the shallow jumps; you wouldn't have fallen so far if you hadn't been going so fast. You dropped a couple of hundred feet on that first jump; I hope the camera caught it – you were spectacular! And through the woods, fuck, you must have a death wish. You are one crazy man. I don't ever want to chase you down the hill again." With that, he turned and stomped away with his skis over his shoulder. His colleagues also shook their heads in disbelief at my ski run; a few came up and shook my hand with similar comments as their leader. I shook my head and shrugged in disbelief at my ski run too.

Just before I turned to walk down a gentle slope to the ski bus that would take us to where we needed to be, I heard Mark Ang's voice come over a radio loud speaker near the camera crew. "Great shots all the way down the mountain. No need for a retake. Pack up for the day. Helicopter crew; we're done for today." I watched the hovering helicopter turn and head north to Berne.

A few hours later, after dinner, many of us sat in the common room of our inn. Mark and a couple of the camera crew had commandeered the television set in the inn's living room to show us the clips from the various cameras during my ski run. They'd cobbled together a film of just my run without any further editing. I sat with Crystal and Claire on either side of me.

The raw footage of my run down the mountain started to play in sequence from each of the cameras that had caught me racing by. For the next fifteen minutes either Claire, Crystal, or both were shrieking or screaming warnings to me on the screen. I'd never heard either one of them swear so much in one sitting. Crystal started to cry. She'd turn to me for a second and in tears yelled, "You damn idiot!" But then, she couldn't take her eyes off the screen as the shots from the next camera appeared. Claire covered her eyes when I started through the copse of trees; Crystal screamed, "OH, FUCKING, NO! TREES!" My girlfriend didn't use the 'f' word very often in this context, so this must really be a rough situation for her.

I thought how I'd had much the same reaction six hours earlier. In hindsight, I wondered how I had survived the treacherous ski run down the expert's expert trail. The videos were mind-blowing.

The jumps had been beautifully filmed from the side, catching me shooting over the edge into open air and flying for many seconds, before landing on the steep slope below and accelerating away from the camera. I actually looked graceful most of the time. The shot of me flying over the moguls was mind blowing, particularly as I hit the bottom couple of moguls at an awkward angle and had to correct. I never knew my body could contort the way it did in that scene. No wonder I was sore.

The Ninjas had started fifteen seconds behind me, but by the bottom of the hill I'd added another minute-and-a-half to our spacing.

The screen finally went blank.

Everyone turned to me with a look of awe on their face. I just shrugged.

One of the other Ninjas said, "Man, you are suicidal." Another said, "I've been to two winter Olympics, and I have never seen downhill skiing like you did. You're an expert's expert. You should be in the Olympics. Congrats on a great run. You should save these tapes; they'll make you famous." Everyone laughed.

Mark Ang walked over and shook my hand. "Jim, this afternoon you gave us the most fantastic ski run in recorded history. That run just popped the movie into the really 'big time.' I doubt anyone will ever be able to duplicate that, including any stunt double on the planet. You raised the bar very high. Thank you."

Crystal stood as I did, and punched my arm really hard. She said in a loud angry voice, "Jerk! I thought you promised me you wouldn't take deadly risks. You damn near killed yourself." She stomped out of the room with an angry look on her face. Claire followed her with a worried look. I saw Ellen slip out behind them. I figured I'd better give them a little time to cool down before I tried to patch things up.

I hung out downstairs at our inn hoping Crystal would come back and cut me some slack about my run down the mountain. After all, I had lived through it. Instead, Ellen came back down about two hours after Crystal disappeared. I gave her a questioning look, breaking off a chat with Mark. Mark took that as an excuse to leave and go up to bed.

As she approached, Ellen shook her head and said in a near whisper, "No, she's still mad at you ... and, you won't like what she's been up to."

"Huh? What?"

Ellen sighed, "She's stoned. I don't know where she got it from, but as soon as we got upstairs she pulled out a couple of doobies and stoked up. She swore at you for a half-hour, and now she's smoked on and off for the past two hours. She blotto, to put it mildly. I don't think she knows what planet she's on. I couldn't get her to stop, until a few minutes ago when she had to go to the bathroom. I confiscated her stash and hid it. I don't know how best to get rid of it, but she won't find it."

I thought about our drug-free past, "She's never done anything like that. Where'd this come from?"

Ellen said, "I kept asking her, and all she would tell me was she'd gotten 'cozy' with 'a source'. She wouldn't tell me who. She also kept saying this would make her 'happy' although you had pissed her off, and when I asked her to stop, she said it was all just done for 'fun.' She kept repeating the word 'fun.'"

Crystal and I had agreed to a drug-free relationship almost from the first day we met. I couldn't imagine that she'd gotten so mad at me that she'd fallen off that wagon. We'd all tried pot earlier in our lives, in college, but had stopped. I stood up and said, "Maybe I'd better talk to her. This is not anything like the Crystal I know."

Ellen said, "Save your breath. She is so stoned she won't listen to reason. She's happy and probably going to go to sleep if she isn't asleep already. She was really mellow when I came down... except about your ski run."

I asked her, "Have you guys done this before?"

"NO," Ellen practically shouted. "Sure, we've stoked up a few times, but that was years ago in college. I agreed with what you two agreed, and that is to stay drug-free. I think the strongest thing I've had since then has been an Advil, and I haven't seen Crystal take anything stronger either – until tonight. I didn't know how to make her stop."

I dropped back into the chair. "I don't like this. I'll have to talk to her tomorrow."

Mark Ang asked over breakfast the next morning, "Is Crystal still mad at you? We need to film the two of you skiing together today, and I don't need her staring daggers at you all day. It'll show on film."

I said, "She wouldn't talk to me last night and pretty much told me to sleep elsewhere. I ended up with her sister; at least Ellen's not angry with me." My sleeping habits were not news to anyone on the movie crew; they all knew I had intimate relations with Crystal, Ellen, and Claire. Mark no doubt remembered all the sexual romps we also had with Jill Danes, Claire, and others when filming my first movie.

I didn't share with Mark that Crystal had been stoned out of her mind the night before. I didn't want him to think less of his leading lady in the movie, plus I wanted to talk to Crystal and see just what had been going on in her head the previous evening.