SEX, TIES AND VIDEOTAPE!
WE all love celebrity sex tapes. Whether we’re sat alone squinting at grainy footage of Rob Lowe’s buttocks or ogling Kim Kardashian’s gyrating breasts on a friend’s laptop, watching shoddily-filmed A-List skin flicks is a raunchy rite of passage for every red blooded male. And there isn’t one among us who hasn’t dreamed of making the transition from viewer to participant by bedding a famous Hollywood star on camera.
But for one man, that dream is very much a reality. Chingford bachelor FRANK TESTES has spent the past two decades working as a travelling necktie and cravat salesman in Essex and its surrounding counties. And in that time the randy 64-year-old has filmed himself enjoying FULL SEXUAL INTERCOURSE with some of Tinseltown’s hottest babes!
“I know it sounds far-fetched, but it’s absolutely true,” chuckles 15-stone Frank. “I got into the tie-selling business because I love providing high quality neckwear at low, low prices. But I had no idea that one of the many perks of the job would be getting to have on-camera rumpy-pumpy with the planet’s most iconic females.”
Now Frank is set to tell his barely-believable story in an explosive autobiography, Sex, Ties and Videotape! In these exclusive extracts, the tie-selling lothario spills the beans about what happened when he hit the ‘record’ button after encountering some of Hollywood’s sexiest stunners.
LIGHTS, PAMELA, ACTION!
Frank’s foray into the celebrity sex tape world all started one day back in the mid-nineties when Frank had done a good bit of business in Chelmsford, selling two dozen 100% polyester twin packs on the Tattersall Way industrial park. And believe it or not, his first co-star was none other than sex tape queen PAMELA ANDERSON. It was a sunny day, and I was celebrating my sales with a few tins of Kestrel and a stroll along the Essex Waterway when I noticed a gigantic white superyacht moored in among all the houseboats at the end of the Heybridge Basin.
Thinking the owner must have a few quid to spare, I clambered aboard with my sample case and rapped on the cabin door. Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw who opened it. Standing there in front of me, wearing nothing but her famous red bathing suit, all pulled up into her crack, was blonde Baywatch bombshell Pamela Anderson herself!
tie
Pamela explained that she and her then-husband, rock wild man Tommy Lee, were enjoying a brief tour of the East Anglian canal-ways. Tommy had nipped out to fetch them some chips, so I took the opportunity to ask her if she or her hubby were in the market for high-quality neckwear at low, low prices.
The buxom siren nodded enthusiastically, claiming that Tommy was always on the lookout for ties on account of his regular court appearances for drug possession and/ or assault. Sniffing an easy sale, I informed her that a simple black or dark blue tie will usually impress judges and juries alike, and offered to come in and show her my wares.
I opened my case and showed her some of the twin pack ties that had sold so well earlier in the day. I explained to her that they were the same quality as you’d get in Tie Rack, but without their overheads, and that’s why I was able to offer them at a third the price.
But Pam seemed more interested in the portable camcorder that was nestled alongside my samples. I told her that I used it to practise my sales pitches by recording them and watching them back later. She then shot me a saucy wink that sent the blood rushing straight to my nether regions.
‘I’ve got an idea for something else you can record and watch back later,’ she purred, peeling off her iconic bathing suit to reveal her mountainous, golden-brown breasts.
down
Well, I won’t go into detail about what happened after I pressed the ‘record’ button, but let’s put it this way: the quality of my ties was quickly forgotten. Only after I’d done her in literally every position in the book, and I’d brought her to no less than
FIFTEEN earth-shattering climaxes, did we pause to get our breath back.
I got up for a quick pipecleaner, leaving the chesty Barb Wire vixen lying on the bed, still reeling from all her multiple orgasms. But when I turned round, my heart almost stopped. Her hubby Tommy Lee was stood in the doorway with two bags of chips, and he’d seen everything.
Now the Mötley Crüe drummer was a big bloke with biceps like sandbags, and I was certain I was all set to be on the wrong end of a good thumping off him. So I could of fell through the floor when he simply smiled and asked me if I’d like to have a chip butty with him and Pam.
It turned out that Tommy and Pam had one of these open relationships you hear about, which I thought was refreshingly modern. After I’d had
“I’ve filmed scud flicks with Hollywood’s hottest stars,” says cravat salesman Frank
my chips I packed the video camera back in my case, but not before the wild man of rock had bought two of my 60:40% rayon/polyester ties, which at £5 the pair was a deal that the shops found hard to beat.
When I got back to the Premier Inn that night, I could hardly wait to rewatch my nautical A-List tryst in all its high-definition glory. However, when I hooked the camera up to the telly, I got a nasty surprise. I’d only gone and left the ruddy lens cap on! There was no record whatsoever of my four-hour bonkathon with one of the planet’s hottest women.
I had to laugh to myself when, a few weeks later, Pam and Tommy released their very own sex tape, filmed on that same superyacht. As I watched the saucy footage on the internet, I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret that it wasn’t me up there on the laptop screen enjoying my own no-holes-barred romp with Pam.
I consoled myself with the thought that nothing could take away my memories of that afternoon of full sex I’d had with her. Even though I had absolutely no way of proving it, no-one could say for definite that it hadn’t happened.
A few years passed, and Frank assumed his on-camera A-List sexploit with Pamela Anderson had been nothing more than a magical one-off. But he got the shock of his life one day in the early noughties when, over in Witham, he came face to face with none other than Game of Thrones star EMELIA CLARKE!
I was peddling my wares in the Holiday Inn just off the A12, which is usually quite busy with reps and commercial travellers who always need ties. Canvassing on the premises is strictly forbidden and I’d been warned off a few times by the reception staff. However, I managed to sneak back in through the kitchens while the chef was having a fag.
It’s best to start from the top floor of a hotel and work your way down. That way, if you get caught and thrown out, you can make your way to the exit knocking on the room doors as you go. This day, I’d made a few sales, including six nylon floral patterned ties to a powdered egg salesman from Crewe, before a cleaner asked me to leave.
As I did so, I knocked on a door on the ground floor and was amazed when it was answered by Daenerys Targarian herself. It turned out that they had been shooting some Game of Thrones battle scenes with dragons in nearby Hatfield Peverel, and she had popped back to the hotel to relax between takes. I enquired as to whether she might be on the lookout for any high quality neckwear at low, low prices, and her eyes quite literally lit up.
sport
The luscious-lipped Stormborn queen explained that it was her boyfriend’s birthday in a couple of weeks, and a tie or two would be just the job. She ushered me into her room with a cheeky grin, and something told me that my sample case wasn’t the only thing she was interested in.
I asked her if it was okay to videotape my sales patter so I could use it for training purposes, and she agreed. I put my camera on the dressing table and set it running, starting my pitch by showing her some of the 60:40% nylon-polyester mix ties that were my best sellers. The price tag said £2.39, but I told the ‘breaker of chains’ that she could have them for two quid a pop. She pouted her famous lips and raised her equally famous eyebrows: ‘Can I see them in action?’ she cooed. I unravelled one and slipped it round my collar to demonstrate the quality.
‘They’re not for my boyfriend’s neck,’ she purred. ‘They’re for my ankles and wrists.’
Before I knew what was happening, Daenerys had stripped naked and tied herself to the bed using four of the ties. You could see everything, tits, arse, fanny - the whole kit and caboodle. My jaw was quite literally hanging open. I went to turn the video camera off, but the ‘Mother of Dragons’ stopped me. ‘Why don’t you leave it running,’ she saucily suggested.
chopper
Well, I’m too much of a gentleman to divulge exactly what happened next, but I will say this: we had frenzied, no-holds-barred Fifty Shades-style intercourse for at least five hours, and afterwards she told me I was easily the best lover she’d ever had. I wiped my battered chopper on the curtains and went to turn my video camera off.
Our bondage sex session had left the four ties horribly crumpled, but I assured the fireproof queen that because of the high polyester content, the creases would iron out beautifully. I gave her an extra discount and she bought them for six quid the lot.
I thanked her and half an hour later I was back at my own hotel with my camera hooked up to the telly, ready to spend the evening watching myself going at it hammer and tongs up one of the world’s sexiest women.
However, when I put the tape into the machine, I had never been more disappointed. I must have had forgotten to charge the battery, so it had recorded nothing. As the blank screen flickered before me, I cursed my bad luck, realising that once again there was no hard evidence for my hardcore celebrity sex session. My friends, family and colleagues would simply have to take my word for it that it had actually happened. Which it had, and they couldn’t prove for definite that it hadn’t.
Frank was naturally devastated, but little did he realise that he would be granted many, many more opportunities for on-camera A-List intercourse. But it was his XXX-rated romp with the USA’s First Lady MELANIA
TRUMP that sticks most in his mind. Literally every sales call I made somehow ended up with me bedding a Tinseltown stunner in front of my trusty camcorder. SCARLETT JOHANSSON, BEYONCE, MEGAN FOX, CAROL KIRKWOOD
to name but a few. Infuriatingly, however, every single scrap of this priceless triple-X footage was lost due to my own cack-handed carelessness when it came to inserting the tape properly, setting up the tripod or remembering to switch the camera on. Finally, I decided it was high time I joined the 21st Century and bought myself a smartphone. And I didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity to christen its camera.
tomahawk
I was doing the rounds in the Horndon Industrial Park just outside Brentwood, trying to shift a load of polyester seven fold neckties. These are made from a square yard of material folded seven times, so they don’t need a lining. This makes them quite pricey, but I was doing them for the unbelievable price of four pound a pop.
I knocked at the door of one of the lock-ups and nearly jumped out of my skin when it was answered by
NIGHT’S WATCH WAS DISAPPOINTING MY RED-HOT TRUMPY-PUMPY WITH MELANIA
none other than the US first lady herself! The large-breasted president’s wife informed me that her hubby was meeting with high-level UK business dignitaries in the warehouse next door, and she had come along to keep him company. I asked if either of them had any interest in high-quality neckwear at low, low prices, and after checking the coast was clear, she ushered me straight inside, locking the door behind me.
‘My husband’s birthday is coming up,’ purred Melania in her broken English. ‘ I want to buy him some nice ties as a surprise.’ I told her she’d come to the right bloke, and opened my case.
When I looked up, I saw that Melania was starting to undress. ‘That’s not all I’m interested in,’ she cooed as she unzipped her trouser suit top. ‘But we have to be very quiet. My husband, who doesn’t satisfy me, is just next door.’ As she yanked down my trousers, my brand new smartphone tumbled out of the pocket. She flashed me a cheeky grin and pressed it into my palm.
burner
‘Why don’t you film our sex session?’ she suggested with a wink. I didn’t need asking twice, I can tell you. I hit the ‘record’ button, and the FLOTUS and me got down to it. I won’t go into detail about what happened, for fear of inciting an executive order for my assassination, but I will say that by the time we were finished, the first lady had enjoyed her fifth orgasm.
After several hours of passionate, unbridled love-making, Melania bought a couple of great value ties which she said she was going to get sewn together to make one long one for her racist hubby. I did my trousers back up and staggered back out onto the industrial estate. Back in my Vectra, I flicked straight to the ‘videos’ section of my phone to watch the saucy action back, only to experience that familiar sting of disappointment. I had failed to switch
the camera to ‘selfie’ mode. As a result, instead of capturing what could have been the most explosive celebrity sex tape of all time, I had simply recorded four hours of footage of the ruddy cabin wall.
Cursing my technical incompetence yet again, I realised I had no absolutely no way of proving that I had just had loads of full sex with the US president’s wife. But believe me, it’s not fake news, I definitely did have. And people will just have to take my word for it.
By now, Frank took making Hollywood sex tapes in his stride, and it was an unusual day at the office if he didn’t get close up and personal with a Tinseltown A-lister. So last March, when he came face to face with PARIS HILTON in a call centre in Great Notley on the outskirts of Braintree, what happened next came as no surprise. Call centres are always good business, and in this particular one I can usually shift about a dozen units before the manager spots me and throws me out.
spokey-dokeys
On this day, I was furtively going from cubicle to cubicle selling my stuff when I spotted a familiar face. It was Paris Hilton! The glamorous hotel chain heiress was apparently filming one of her reality shows where she does a normal job, which this week was working in a call centre. She was cold calling people about them being in an accident that wasn’t their fault, and to be frank she looked pretty bored. So when I turned up with my case, she was eager to look inside.
She was immediately attracted to some nylon scarves which were just like ones that Dolce and Gabbana do, but a fraction of the pr ice. She bought two, one for herself and one for her bff Nicole Richie. What’s more, she was so pleased with the quality and price of her purchases that she insisted on saying thank-you ‘in her own special way’.
Well, I don’t need to tell you what that way was. And being an experienced sex tape maker, she insisted that we record the action to put on the internet. She propped my phone up by the leg of a desk to get a good view, set it recording and we got down to action.
Now believe me, she may have spent the day cold-calling, but she was definitely hot to trot. And our tryst was made all the more exciting because we could have been interrupted at any moment by her line manager, a bald-headed bloke who the week before had threatened to call the police if he saw me on the premises again.
travelodge
Unfortunately, that is just what happened. Paris’s moans of pleasure were so intense as I did her that they alerted the baldy bastard who called security. I was dragged out into the foyer and held for forty minutes until I was handed over to the cops.
As it wasn’t my first offence, I was given an exclusion order that forbade me from entering the call centre again, which was a shame as it had been one of the more profitable establishments on my tie-selling rounds. In spite of that, I contented myself with the fact that at least I had had it off with Paris Hilton, and I had my own 100% genuine sex tape to prove it.
But when I got back to my Travelodge room that night and settled down to watch the footage back, my heart sank. Oneof Paris’s teacup dogs must of stood right in front of the camera throughout the entire length of our X-rated tryst. Instead of seeing mine and Paris’s red-hot sex session, there was just a twenty-minute close up of a chihuahua’s arse. Frank’s book, Sex, Ties and Video
tape! is in the shops next week, and he expects sales are to dwarf those of the recent best-selling Fire and Fury White House exposé.
“It might be a little delayed, because the printer has said that I can’t have the books until I’ve paid his bill, and I’m a bit short at the minute because January and February are always slow months for selling ties,” he told us. “So I might have to delay publication until March or April when things usually pick up a bit.”
PARIS IN THE THE SPRING