Curtain Up

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We finished rehearsal early, only because half the cast is fighting some sort of stomach flu. Fuck, when do we open? We’ll be ready, somehow we’re always ready. I hang back with you shutting down the rehearsal space, switching on the ghost light center stage.

As I cross downstage, you grab my hand and pull me back to you. Looking at me. Really looking, as if you’d never seen me before.

“You’re really good.”

“Stop. I’m far from ready, that beat at the top act two feels forced, but I’ll get there.”

“You’re good. I like watching you play and discover, and take risks. It’s sexy.”

In my best Blanche DuBois, “I do declare.”

You pull me into you, wrapping your arms around the small of my back, a hand on my ass, squeezing gently as you press a very slow, sweet kiss to my lips. I reciprocate, my hands traveling to your shoulders. Arms wrapping around your neck, “it’s a bit cliche isn’t it, sleeping with the director?”

“Fuck em.” I chuckle at your candor. “Let’s get out of here, I’m starving.”

“Same,” come to think of it – we made dinner, but got distracted fucking in the kitchen before rehearsal, we didn’t actually eat.

We make our way through the back of the theater, checking doors and lights, reaching the Green Room. Now, it’s I who grab you.

Pressing my body and lips against yours.

“It’s a bit cliche, isn’t it…to Maltepe Escort fuck in the Green Room?” I smile, “Mhm”

You lift me slightly and sit me on the table behind us, careful not crush the box of donuts someone brought in. Your lips and hands travel down the front of my body. Slipping off the staps of my sundress. Nibbling and licking my collarbone, shoulders, and chest. I moan and run my hands over your body, my legs instinctively wrapping around you. I pull your shirt up and off, you remove my bra, so we are equally bare-chested. You take me in again with your eyes, kiss my neck, and pull me close. We are pressed skin-to-skin. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from my chest.

You whisper a few lines from the play in my ear. It’s the scene where he bears his soul and ultimate fear of losing her. “Fucking actors,” I teasingly whisper back. You nibble my earlobe and step back. Taking my hand to lead me to the couch…how many people have fucked on this couch, I wonder? Such a cliche.

I slip off my dress and shoes as I make my way to you. You in a equal state of nakedness. I straddle your lap and we resume making out.

Your hands warm against my skin, traveling and exploring. Fingers trailing down the front of my body, your graze the back of your hand against my nipple, which tightens and peaks in response. My thighs İstanbul Escort gripping you a little. You continue down my body, rubbing my pussy through the damp cotton thong. Teasing, pressing, pushing the lips of my vulva to either side of the fabric. An invitation to be sucked.

We shift. I lie back on the couch, you sliding down between my legs. You kiss my inner thighs as you gently press them wide, exaggerating the exposure of my pussy, the thong merely a suggestion of underwear at this point.

I feel your tongue licking and sucking on my pussy lips, your nose rubbing against my hard clit through the fabric. My wetness mixed with your saliva. My breath and moans, communicating what feels good. My hips pushing up to meet your mouth. You slide off the soaking thong and take the opportunity to remove your boxer briefs as well. I see you fully, taking you in now. I smile in appreciation and anticipation.

You resume machinations between my legs, my hands in your hair. Now, I recite a few lines… when she thought she lost him, realizing for the first time that she truly loved him and needed him to feel whole. Your fingers slide inside me and my breath catches in my throat, unable to finish the line. I hear from between my legs, “fucking actors.”

I audibly laugh and pull you up. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

“Challenge Anadolu Yakası Escort accepted.”

I feel your hard cock, slick with precum, slide against my opening. “Fuck me,” I say, as if I was calling a stage direction.

You push into me, filling me. My legs widen, as I sharply inhale with pleasure. “Fuck me.”

You begin to thrust, in and out, my hips matching your rhythm, our pace increasing. “Fuck me,” you begin to slam into me, our thighs smacking, your balls slapping my asshole, an added level of pleasure. You place a hand around my throat and gently squeeze, I nod in permission. You continue to fuck me hard, my orgasm building. You can tell I’m close, you shift your weight, I move my ankles up to your shoulders, allowing you to thrust deeper into me. “Fuck me,” I all but yell as a declaration of my appreciation more than a command.

You oblige and I cum hard, my vagina tightening around you. Just the encouragement you need; you cum hard, filling my pussy. Our bodies riding out the waves of our mutual orgasm curling and rolling into one another, as if choreographed. My ankles slip from your shoulders and rest on your low back, my legs and arms wrapped around you.

You lying on me, still inside me. We both take a moment to catch our breath.

I finally break the silence, “well that was the best dam cliche I could have asked for.”

You chuckle, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Can we go home and eat? I’m really hungry now.” You kiss me as affirmation and peel yourself up. We gather ourselves and redress. Ensuring the space is reset for the next day. We finally head out, I like being cliche with you.

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