Some people say that print media is dying, but I disagree. One Click Chicks was founded as an internet forum in 2004, and the magazine was always an afterthought, just a separate entity with the sole focus of bringing in extra income for the forum. In the late summer of 2022, I asked our site's admin if I could take control of the magazine, and he agreed, but he also made the argument "Print media is dying; son, I'm not sure there's much you can do with it now, so have at it".
Immediately, I sought to change the identity of the magazine; no longer would it be used as a giant advertisement for the big porn studios. It's now going to feature what OCC does best: real, relatable amateurs with consistent nudity on the covers, explicit photoshoots, and honest interviews with real women talking about their bodies, sex, and fantasies. OCC Magazine will feature real girls next door, with no consideration given to age, race, or weight.
The magazine quickly became a hit; the first issue sold nearly 400,000 copies, and readers were instantly hooked at the sight of a very naked but very relatable suburban housewife on the cover. Her candid interview about life and sex made readers clamor for the next issue, and success comes quickly. By the start of 2023, the magazine had a circulation of nearly 3.5 million, with a reach of 40 million across other platforms. Its main selling point is that readers can open the magazine on any given month and see a friend, co-worker, neighbor, a relative, a fellow church member, or even a spouse completely naked on the cover and completely naked in the pages while giving a candid and open interview about life, love, sex, and fantasy.
Due to the magazine's popularity, women constantly send emails, letters, and calls inquiring about being in the magazine. Casting calls are held all over the United States, Canada, the UK, and Australia. It's just so many women, and the backlog is huge.
One day I was at my desk, proofreading an interview and editing it for length and clarity, when my secretary informed me that a couple was here to see me. I immediately asked her to schedule them for next week as I really needed to finish this work, but she claimed that the wife had become quite unruly and would not leave. I then asked my secretary to send them to my office. A few moments later, I get a knock on my door, and before me stands a middle aged caucasian woman with light-colored hair, in a royal blue blazer, white blouse, royal blue mid-thigh skirt, and black stiletto heels.
"Good morning, please come in." I motion to the woman and her husband, but she turns to her husband and says sternly, "Sit," and he remains seated while she walks in. He and I both share an uneasy look. I walk into my office and offer her a seat while I return to the desk. "So, what can I do for you?" She crosses her legs, looks at me rather sarcastically, and says, "Why the hell would I be here? It's not 1978, so I'm sure you're not hiring a typist," and continues, "I've sent you letters, emails, and photos," yet I've never gotten a response. Is there something wrong with me?"
And I took her and said, "Absolutely not; you're quite sexy and generally just what we're looking for." Then she said, "Then why did it take me flying all the way from the UK to get your attention?"
I then said, "It doesn't sound like Mitt Romney, but I literally have binder full of women. Here are women who've submitted their pictures for consideration, and here's another binder of women who've been offered photoshoots and covers. The backlog is immense, and it takes time."
She then stands, her heels clicking on the floor, and comes to my desk, pointing her red manicured finger in my face, looking me in the eye, and saying, "I think you're full of shit; this whole magazine is full of shit; you talk about real, relatable women, but here I am, and you won't even give me a shot". I respond, "I've given you clear evidence that we have a huge backlog of women." I begin to flip through the binder, "Here's the "H" section for Helen, and here's the pictures you submitted—very impressive, if I must say," and I continue, "This is proof that I've seen your pics, liked your pics, and will at some point offer you a spot in the magazine."
Still quite angry, she says, "You're a fucking liar; I've been a subscriber since day one; I was importing the magazine before you started publishing it in the UK; you obviously have your favorites." She continues "You've given multiple covers to Jeanne because Harry has given you permission to fuck her; Harry alluded to it in an interview in the February 2023 edition" She goes on to say "Claudia let it slip on Twitter, that you and her have sex in your office rather consistently" and finally "The multi-issue "Breeding Series"*with Mrs. Harchunter is just a way for you to fuck her and have ready-made content for the magazine".
I respond, "We work in a sexually charged environment; things happen, and I see naked women daily. While I maintain my professionalism, we are still human". She responds, "That's understandable, but how can one be sure you are being fair to women who aren't willing to have sex with you?" I say, "You named four women; hundreds have made the magazine, and hundreds more are currently waiting; I'm more than fair when it comes to the magazine."
She pounds the desk, points her finger at me again, and says, "You're fucking lair." She stands up and says, "Helen, it's time for you to leave; my patience is running thin." Helen then says "I'm not going anywhere until I have assurances that I'll be in the magazine before the end of the year" and I respond "At this point, if you don't leave, you'll never make the magazine".
I stand up and begin to walk towards the door to have Helen leave, but she blocks me and begins pointing her finger into my chest, demanding to be put in the magazine. At this point, my patience has run out, and I take Helen and forcefully bend her over the desk. "Helen, I've gotten tired of this shit; I've treated you with respect; I've given you proof of what goes on around here and answered all of your questions; yet you still speak to me in a disrespectful manner".
I pin Helen's arms behind her back while she squirms and gives her firm smack on her ass, moaning with each smack. "This skirt's material is amazing; what is it?" while taunting her. I then reach down and begin raising the skirt over Helen's ass, revealing black lace thong pants. "This is your audition, Helen; you took a 9-hour flight to get here. I'm going to make sure it was worth it. Your interview starts now."
POP!, I give Helen another firm slap on her ass, her cheeks giggle, and she lets out a quick moan. I then open the binder and show her a picture of a buxom brunette from Texas. "Ok, you really want to be in this magazine; tell me why I should put you in this magazine over her." I give Helen another smack on the ass, and she attempts to talk, but every time she starts to speak, I smack her ass even harder. By now, Helen is a bit winded, and her ass has turned a shade of red.
I take my fingers and slip them gently in Helen's mouth, and I slip one in her pussycat. Helen is shocked, and her body shudders. Tell me about your sex life with Steve; tell me your fantasies." Helen struggles to share her hottest sexual moments with her husband as my fingers slip in and out of her wet, tight pussy. Helen begins to retell a fantasy that she's had for 25 years as I slip my thumb in her ass. She raises one leg as I push in deeper, and Helen struggles to share a naughty fantasy of a random man slipping into her bedroom and fucking her forcefully while Steve is away. I slip two fingers into Helen's pussy while driving my thumb deeper inside of her while I continuously ask her, "Are you as much of a sl*t as you claim to be?" My fingers are covered in Helen's juices, while my thumb has disappeared into her ass. Helen struggles to confirm that she is, in fact, as big of a sl*t as she has claimed to be. I take my fingers out of Helen's pussycat and place them gently between her lips and allow her to taste herself. Helen happily licks her juices clean off of my fingers, and I say to her, "I got something else you can suck on that's a tad bit bigger than my fingers." She smiles and responds "Does it have my juices on it?" and I respond "It can!".
I bend Helen over the desk again and slide her pants completely down, placing them in my pocket, sliding the head against her warm, wet pussy before slowly sliding inside of her. Helen exhales as I slip deeper inside of her, slowly thrusting into her slippery c*nt, building up our rhythm as I begin banging her harder and harder as she begins to let out louder moans and screams. "Who's sl*t are you?" she replies, "I'm your sl*t," and I continue thrusting into her wet British pussycat. My cock is now completely covered with Helen's juices, and they began to drip off of my testicles. I grab Helen's arm and pin it to her back, and I start thrusting even harder. "I'm about to cum," I exclaim as my body slams into Helen's, and I shoot a large load into Helen's pussycat, complete with multiple aftershocks. My cock slips out of Helen's pussycat, now filled with my cum. Helen moves to wipe herself. "No, leave it in," I reply as Helen turns and squats to taste her juices on my semi-limp cock. Her mouth is amazing, and she cleans my cock and balls with enthusiasm. "Wow, she really is an amazing sl*t wife," I think to myself.
Helen stands, wipes herself, and pulls her skirt back down before asking for her pants. "I'm going to keep these; the thought of you walking around now pantiless will give some inspiration for your photoshoot tomorrow" Helen's eyes widen, and she smiles "Really!" she says "Yes, be here tomorrow in a loose dress and slip, no bra or pants so that there are no creases in your body". Also, I'm going to publish the details of this trial in the magazine along with an interview.
The next day, Helen is interviewed and photographed for the magazine, posing in lingerie, with sex toys, and having sex with her husband Steve. I gave Steve the honor of shooting Helen's cover, completely naked, wearing high heels, with a crown on her head, a penis-shaped scepter in her hand, seated on an unseen man's lap with his cock in her pussycat. (I was the unseen man, and that was my cock.)
Helen's cover had the tagline, "Her Majesty, Helen, the Queen of sl*ts!" It was controversial for sure, but eventually it became one of our best-selling issues.
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