I couldn’t believe she was as wet as I was. I squirmed my tongue against her moistened pussy lips, and she jumped. My pink-painted fingernails bit into her smooth noir skin, as I boldly plunged my tongue right inside her cunt.
I had no experience; I didn’t know what I was doing. But it seemed to be working, because as I thrashed my tongue around in her hot wet tunnel, warm, tangy liquid suddenly flooded my mouth. I peered upward, into Mya’s eyes.
‘Dirty little corn-fed slut,’ she said, grinning down at me.
Mya pulled her tank-top off and my hands up, plastering them onto her bare breasts, her juices flowing out from between her trembling legs and drenching my beaming face. I grasped her firm breasts and rolled her jutting, ringed nipples between my fingers, gulping some of her juice now, straight from her pussy.
It was exhilarating, intoxicating. I couldn’t get enough, groping Mya’s tits and bathing in her come, drinking it in. As she urged me on with an equal stream of profanity.
Until, finally, she yelled, ‘Fuck!’ She desperately clenched her buttocks and another gush of liquid glided into my open mouth. Then I pulled one of my hands off her tits and stuck three fingers into her slit, and pumped.
‘Yeah, blondie!’ she wailed. ‘Fuck me!’
I clutched at her breasts and slammed my fingers back and forth in her cunt, the wanton taste of the woman empowering me with heedless lust. I was on fire, pistoning her pussy, her hot pink wetness sucking on my fingers.
‘Fuck! Jesus!’ she cried, bending, breaking on my flying digits.
She gushed all over again, the pure product of my efforts; I couldn’t believe one girl could come so much. And I licked, urgently swallowed, churning her cunt. Until she fully sagged over on top of me, gasping for breath.
I never went back to the travelling carnival. That was kids’ stuff now.
I never saw Mya again, either. That kind of adult stuff I could now get all on my own.
Dress Rehearsal
by Jean-Philippe Aubourg
‘No, no! More passion! Make me feel your raw animal lust!’ Jen broke away from Rachel, their lips parting with a soft smack. The two naked women turned to look at Claude.
‘I need to believe. I need to be convinced. I need to know that right now nothing matters more to either of you than satisfying your carnal desires with this beautiful woman.’
‘You could have hired real lesbians,’ said Rachel. She and Jen giggled, but Claude was not amused.
‘I hired actresses, or at least I thought I had – actresses who could convince an audience of the inner truth of a play.’
‘It takes time, Claude, especially with sex scenes. You have to feel completely comfortable with the other person.’ Jen shifted round on the bed which she and Rachel were lying on. Their legs had been wrapped around each other, thigh to hip, and their arms around one another’s shoulders. Now they turned to face their director.
‘We’ve been rehearsing for a week and we open in another two. We don’t have time,’ he said abruptly. That was true. Conceived, written and cast in a fortnight, this play was a sprint, not a marathon. The collapse of a production company behind another play had left a small North London theatre with a three-week hole in its calendar. They had approached Claude, a young writer-director who liked to push boundaries, and he could not resist the challenge.
His work always had impact, but this time he was determined to be noticed. Freed from the constraint of having to find a theatre and convince it to stage his new play, he allowed his imagination to run wild. What his imagination came up with was a love story with a twist. He wanted to explore the concept of attraction and sexual desire, and he wanted to do this through the story of two previously heterosexual women who decided to defy convention and try lesbianism.
Casting was a problem. Only actresses who had experience of stage nudity were asked to audition. There were plenty of those, but many recoiled at what Claude was asking them to do. Some did not even respond to their agents’ enquiry, some agents even refused to put the idea to their clients. Of those that came, many only made it up to the point when Claude asked them to strip. One even threw the script at him, shouting, ‘This is disgusting!’ before storming out. Of those who did take off their clothes, most were not up to the acting standard he required. He saw many models who aspired to be actresses and, gorgeous as they were, he was not making porn. Then he found Jen.
Jen had been out of work for three months. She was talented, but the parts had not been coming her way. When her agent sent her the script she was delighted, and said yes to the audition before reading it. After all, an audition was an audition. In between office temping and commuting she did not have time to study it, so only opened it as she boarded the Northern Line tube on her way to the theatre.
By the time she surfaced in Islington she was shaking. Could she really do this? Playing a lesbian was fine, kissing another girl, well, she would have been very naïve to think she could be a successful actress and not have to do that once or twice, and she had taken her clothes off for a role on more than one occasion. But the level of nudity in this play was off the scale! And not just nudity. The writer clearly wanted the audience to be in no doubt about the physical nature of the women’s relationship. Two sex scenes, one which would probably take about ten minutes, when the character she was auditioning for was first seduced by the other woman, and another, even longer scene, when the affair came to a passionate but inevitable end.
Jen was always nervous at auditions, but this was something else. She trembled as she held the script, and could feel her voice shaking as she read through the lines with Claude. Like many directors, especially one taking the helm of his own play, he was somewhat aloof, treating his material with reverence. Jen was certain she had not got the job, so when he announced it was time for her to take her clothes off, she assumed it was just a formality. There was no way she was ever going to have to act this script in front of an audience, so let’s just get it over with.
Putting down the script, she sat down to unzip her boots and pull them off. Standing again, she pulled her jumper over her head and dropped it onto the chair behind her. It was closely followed by her T-shirt. Opening her jeans, she pushed them down and stepped out of them, adding them to the pile of clothes. She felt goosebumps as the cold air of the unheated theatre surrounded her. Now she was standing in her bra, panties and pink ankle socks. Claude watched her, his expression giving nothing away. Was he still seriously assessing her for the part? Was she getting further away from it with every garment she removed? Was he getting hard at the sight of this attractive late-20s actress, with her short blonde hair, undressing in front of him?
Jen took a deep breath and unclipped her bra. Her nipples hardened as it came down her arms and over her wrists. The cold, she told herself. Now her breasts were bare. Not large, but not small either, Jen was proud of them, although right now she could not have been more self-conscious. But there was one more step she had to take. Putting her fingers and thumbs beneath the waistband of her panties, she pushed them down and stepped out of them. Straightening up, they hung loosely in her right hand. She felt her pubic hair bristle as it was completely exposed to the cold air and she blushed. Turning to show her full nudity to Claude, she lifted her right leg and started to pull on the toe of her sock, but his voice stopped her. ‘That’s fine, thank you. I just needed to know that you could do it. The part’s yours.’
Two days later Jen was sitting fully dressed alongside Claude. Half the script was already lodged in her brain, with the other half well on its way. All she needed now was a co-star.
Claude had suggested she sit in on the audition. After all, there had to be chemistry between the cast to make this two-hander work, and time was running out. They were only seeing one young actress this morning. Jen, who prided herself on her professionalism, was surprised to find herself worried that she would be hotter than her. When Rachel arrived it did nothing to lessen her concern.
Alt
hough her CV boasted a three-year drama course and an impressive list of stage credits, she still looked like a model. Her long brown hair was perfectly styled and her make-up exquisite. As she shook hands with Claude and Jen, both could see the blood-red varnish on her impeccably manicured fingernails. Claude offered to take her coat and bag, but she asked if she could take them to the dressing room herself. She had a couple of things to prepare for the reading, she said.
They waited in patient silence for her, Claude in a seat halfway down the theatre, Jen on stage to read with Rachel, until the sound of gentle approaching feet came from the wings. Then Rachel took the stage. Both Claude and Jen’s eyes widened.
Rachel had changed from her street clothes, and was now wearing a simple blue silk robe. In her right hand she held the script. ‘Shall I take it from the top of page 30?’ she asked innocently, projecting her voice to the back of the auditorium.
‘Yes. Take it away,’ Claude said, his voice quivering a little. Excited at what Rachel might do next, thought Jen, or at the prospect of finding his other cast member?
Rachel had cleverly chosen the first nude scene to read through, showing she was prepared to tackle the controversial material head-on. As they worked through it, Jen found her admiration growing. She had learnt the lines, hardly ever needing to glance down at the script. She had chosen her costume well too. In the scene both girls would be wearing nothing but robes.
They reached the critical moment. Rachel’s character was the one who pushed Jen’s over the edge, which she did by slipping off her robe and kissing her. As they reached that point, Rachel dropped the script then undid the belt of her robe. Pulling it back from her shoulders then shrugging them to send it to the floor, she revealed what Jen and Claude had both known from the second she took the stage. She was stark naked.
Rachel’s body was spectacular. Her large breasts had the are-they-aren’t-they look of a pair which could have been the work of a skilled surgeon or could be natural. Her waist was trim, her arms and thighs bronzed and toned. Her hands came up to Jen’s face and her fingers were soft as she pulled her towards her. Their mouths locked, gently at first, then insistently, Rachel deepening the kiss, her tongue starting to flick against Jen’s lips. Lost in the drama, Jen was about to open them in return, when Claude’s voice broke the scene.
‘Brilliant! Rachel, the gig’s yours if you want it!’ Rachel immediately broke off the kiss, releasing Jen’s face, and turned to Claude in the stalls.
‘Oh yes! I’d love it!’ She clapped her hands, making her wonderful breasts wobble slightly. She seemed to have completely forgotten she was naked.
Now they were trying to re-create the passion of that first kiss. A week into rehearsal, they were both off the page, but Claude was adamant there was something missing. He sighed and looked at his watch. ‘I have a meeting with the theatre director, to bring him up to speed. I’ll tell him everything’s going wonderfully and he’s got the biggest hit since Jerusalem on his hands. Let’s call it a day. Can I leave you to lock up?’
‘Of course. We’ll get dressed and pack up’.
Claude fished in his pocket and pulled out the theatre keys, lobbing them gently onto the stage, where two robes were piled. Picking up his jacket and bag, he turned and walked up the aisle to the theatre exit, calling a last goodbye over his shoulder.
Jen got off the bed and went to retrieve the key. She bent forward to pick it up, but froze at the sound of Rachel’s voice.
‘This shouldn’t be that difficult. You’ve got a gorgeous arse! And the rest of you isn’t too shabby either!’
Jen straightened and turned to face her. Rachel was laying back on the bed now, her left leg out straight, her right lifted and bent at the knee, showing her dark pubes. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked straight at Jen. ‘Now that Claude’s gone, why don’t we try the scene again? Maybe it’s him that’s putting us off?’
‘Oh, er, maybe? Do you think it’ll help?’ Jen had been naked since she arrived for work that morning, but suddenly she was very self-conscious of her nudity.
‘I think it will. And I think a little exercise first will help us nail it.’ Jen was no stranger to acting exercises, but there was something about the way Rachel said it that suggested it might be a little out of the ordinary.
Rachel eased herself up and got to her feet. ‘Sit down,’ she told Jen. The blonde pulled up the wooden chair which was part of the bedroom set. The cheap fabric felt rough against her bare bottom. ‘Now watch me.’
Jen nodded. She was looking straight at the brunette, as if seeing her body for the first time. Rachel started to run her hands up and down herself, across her thighs, over her flat stomach, cupping her breasts, turning as she cupped her bottom cheeks, squeezing them and parting them ever so slightly, before allowing them to spring back into place. Rachel turned back to face Jen, and now her hands were on her inner thighs. Her fingers were inches from her sex. Suddenly she flexed them, and her labia parted. Jen stared and then looked up at Rachel’s face.
‘Go on,’ Rachel whispered. ‘Look, if you want to. There’s no need to keep eye contact. You have my permission to stare at any part of my body you want.’
Jen swallowed hard. She let her eyes travel back from Rachel’s beautiful brown eyes, over her figure and down to her sex. Rachel had pulled it a little further apart, the pink flesh inside peeping at her. Was she acting, Jen wondered, or was she watching the real Rachel? Was she pretending to enjoy herself, or was she really pleasuring herself, right here on the stage of the theatre?
Rachel stepped back towards the bed, and lowered herself onto it, her feet still on the floor. She parted her thighs and pulled her vagina further apart. Jen felt her heart pounding and could hear her own breath quickening. Rachel put her head back and let out a groan as her fingers intruded inside the soft lips. She lowered her head and spoke to Jen once more. ‘I’m going to masturbate, and you’re going to watch me. Everyone does it; it’s perfectly normal, but no one talks about it. Share the experience with me and we’ll set this stage alight.’
Jen could not answer, but only watch as Rachel lay back and lifted her heels onto the woollen blanket which covered it. Her legs parted and Jen saw the fingers of her right hand start to rub her clit in small circles. At the same time she eased the first and second fingers of her left hand inside her, a little at first, then with more enthusiasm as her excitement heightened.
Through her parted legs Jen could see Rachel’s hard nipples rising and falling higher and higher. Soon her fingers were burrowing deep inside, her other hand rubbing furiously, moving her clitoris in violent little circles. In less than a minute Rachel was moaning loudly and her body tensed and twitched violently. Eventually she was still.
Finally she looked up and eyed Jen from between her legs. ‘Has that loosened a few of your acting muscles?’ she asked, as she stroked her pubis with both hands. ‘Shall we have another go at the scene?’
‘In a moment. Something I have to do first.’ Jen stood and went to the two discarded robes. Picking one up, along with the theatre keys, she drew the silk garment around her, jumped off the stage and skipped out of the auditorium. Once in the reception of the small theatre, she put the key in the door and locked it, before turning on her heels and almost running back to the stage. ‘Now,’ she said, as she climbed back onto the boards, ‘we won’t be interrupted. So important for the creative process, I find!’
‘Oh, I agree totally!’ giggled Rachel, who was now lying back on the bed, her long brown hair spread around her on the pillow, her face still flushed from her orgasm. ‘So how are we going to play this scene?’
‘Let’s take it from when we’re on the bed together?’ Jen undid her robe and let it fall. Rachel smiled as she approached, and sat up as she climbed on alongside her. She got to her knees and slid her arms around Jen, who was also kneeling. Jen followed suit and their mouths collided in a kiss as passionate as the one they had shared at that first audition.
/> As they kissed Jen’s hands wandered all over Rachel. She fondled her breasts, flicking the hard nipples. She squeezed her bottom, marvelling at its tightness. She placed a hand on each of her hips, revelling in the tapered waist, feeling it flaring out to become shapely hips and bottom. Finally, with trembling fingers, she touched Rachel’s sex. Rachel twitched as Jen’s fingertips tickled her pubic hair, but she also deepened the kiss, telling Jen that her desire would be returned.
As their tongues met, Jen eased a fingertip between Rachel’s labia. It was hot and slick from her climax. Rachel’s hips bucked forward, her body demanding more of Jen’s finger. Jen obliged, pushing her index finger slowly into Rachel’s pussy. She could feel Rachel’s flesh sucking it in, and gave it a little wiggle. Rachel moaned and her arms tightened their grip around Jen’s shoulders.
Finally the women broke their kiss. They looked into one another’s eyes. ‘I think my character would do this next,’ said Jen, her voice throaty. Taking her arms from around Rachel, she pushed her gently back onto the bed. Rachel allowed herself to fall, her head landing softly on the pillow, her large breasts falling slightly either side of her ribs. Instinctively she opened her legs.
Jen loomed over her on all fours. She bent to kiss her again on the lips, and then ran her mouth down one side of her neck, delivering tiny little pecks as she went. She travelled across the upper slopes of Rachel’s breasts until she reached her nipples. Sucking one of them deep inside her mouth, Jen felt the hard bud against her tongue. Flicking it, she squeezed the flesh below it with both hands. Rachel groaned. Switching her attention to the other breast, Jen gave it the same treatment, making Rachel writhe against the bed.
Lifting her head, Jen pushed Rachel’s breasts together, watching the cherry-red nipples bulge before releasing them. She resumed her trail of kisses down Rachel’s body, opening her mouth slightly and allowing her tongue to trail over her co-star’s smooth skin. Very soon she was at the apex of Rachel’s thighs. She could smell her arousal.
The Perfect Italian Wife Page 5