The Unwilling Actress

by Bella Dietrich

  The white-lipped vicious anger had gone from him now, Rosemary knew, and the boy she cared for had come back into his hard lean powerful body. Her mouth on his desire-steeled prick had reduced him now to a whimpering boy who needed her draining tongue and lips like he needed breath. She was going to suck his fiery young seed right down her throat... suck his sex-starved young bull cock till the whole load came screaming out... suck his gorged balls completely dry. Oh, God, she needed it. She wanted to gag and choke on his teeming cum and swallow it furiously into her belly.

  "Mmm-mmmmmm-mmmmmmmmmm!" she moaned around his pulsating huge prick in her mouth as her hands found his hard buttocks to pull him even deeper into her succubus-like throat. Everything had disappeared and faded to nothingness in her head except to serve his desperate need and her own scintillating and seething desire that surged hotly through her veins and nerves.

  God damn! If Web didn't get Celia someplace soon he was going to lose his friggin' mind! Just watching Bullock getting sucked so well and so expertly while his own cock was still bundled painfully inside his pants was driving him right up the damn wall!

  * * *

  The tangled sensations that were meshing in gnarled twitchings of nerve endings all over Celia's body had rendered her all but unconscious. Despite the tactile assault and the numbing of her brain thereby, she stared in a trance at the writhing naked bodies in the throes of their simulated death, and Web's insatiable hands brought an image superimposed on the scene before her. The scene of their own frantic searchings in the bathroom at the motel. That terrible mirrored room that showed her the weakness of her ideals and her standards. They had been stripped from her and left her a quivering mass of fleshly sensation. The brilliant lights that had left no secrets about her own soft or Web's hard body. Adam and Eve in the chrome and mirrored garden of Eden. The fruit of knowledge-the terrible apple-was carnal knowledge, she knew now. The unbelievable temptations of the lusting flesh that she had always assumed she was immune to.

  Christ! Web would like to drag Celia in there now and strip her naked and lay her out beside the oblivious couple in the moonlight and fuck her again. His hands tightened on her and he was almost ready to do it when he remembered the unholy howl she'd put up in the motel. She'd probably scream her head off till the cops came.

  Celia remembered and saw in the screen of her mind again her own nakedness that Web had caressed to such a fever pitch of excitement. She could feel his knowledgeable hands at work on her now, and could hear the faint moans coming from her own mouth as she watched in horrified fascination the writhing couple across the big room.

  She knew that her own hateful body was betraying her again. The warmth was flowing from her loins, from her very womb deep inside her body. Her breasts were swelling like flowers opening to the sun and yearning for the sting of his mouth sucking out the nectar. She knew she wanted the close ecstasy of his nakedness against her again, the rapture of being filled with his enormous penile member, as huge as the impossible instrument that sprang from Bullock's loins. All the sermons she'd heard as a child on the evils of lust and the temptations of the flesh she began to understand. Once that fruit of knowledge had been bitten, you wanted more and more and more.

  Suddenly, when he was almost on the point of shooting his load right in his pants, Web remembered. The couch in the downstairs hall. That would do. Yes. God, yes!

  He bent and scooped Celia's all but unconscious body into his arms and carried her carefully down the thickly carpeted stairs. She clung to him, her breath coming in shuddering gasps, for he'd gotten her so hot and crazy on the landing she hardly knew what she was doing.

  He worked quickly and quietly, only bothering to jerk off her panty hose and shoes. Then he freed his painful, jerking penis, unzipping his pants and letting it pole out through his fly to a giant naked greedy rod that looked like an monstrous stallion's massive prod in the dim light. Celia was moaning very softly with her eyes closed, swaying where he put her as though she were a puppet that could only move at his command. He unbuttoned and let her skirt drop so that her blouse flapped around her naked hips. He caught those beautiful smooth white hips in his hands and pulled her with him onto the couch, lying on his back and drawing her astride his fully clothed body that had only his naked, purple-veined member standing up proud and forceful.

  Slowly he lifted her, and he could see her sweetly flowing juicy cunt lips, hair-fringed and delectable... and just as slowly he set her opened pinkly moist pussy right on the head of his great rooster cock and let her own weight impale her on his domineering, aggressive maleness. The feel of her dripping vaginal walls closing over him like a salacious, gluttonous flower, a man-eating plant, a fly trap, almost triggered him right then. Gooooodddddd! That tight-clenching, skinning hole of hers that peeled him down so ecstatically! She hung above him like a limp doll, pierced on his strutting shaft, his hands holding up her torso by the full heavy young breasts.

  Celia felt vacant and empty as though all her emotions had been so drained there was nothing left but the shell of her body that had no will of its own. All her tears had been shed, all her cries had been cried, all her illusions had been exposed. Her friend sucking on Bullock's penis while he howled like a madman, a primitive animal responding only to instinct! She could still see Rosemary's contorted face as she tried to swallow that huge jetting weapon into her throat. She could still feel Web's hands tempting her own body beyond endurance. Her whole world had shattered. The Web she'd cared for and was on the point of truly loving had violated her... the Rosemary and Bullock who'd been friends had deteriorated to lusting beasts... the ideals and standards she'd set for herself she had betrayed... her own body that housed her soul had betrayed her and she was no better than the lowliest whore. For even now she acquiesced and allowed Web to take her tingling, wanting body for his own uses.

  Her brain was numb and uncaring and her body, her yearning obscene body, was responding to the point that she was moaning with sheer lust and a base passion. She had let Web impale her on his enormous animal-like organ, and she sat, abiding the pain for the reward of the soaring, sensuous, jetting pleasure that she knew would come to her if she let him do with her as he would. She knew she had come to a hell that was so beautiful she could not turn away from its enticing inducements.

  Celia could feel all of Web's great torturing pleasure-giving instrument piercing her very vitals, the head of it against and pushing hard into her womb. She could feel him lift his hips, thrusting the thick stick of his penis, a fleshy rock-hard knife, up even deeper into her soft shrinking belly and her own flesh closing and clenching on its steel length with muscular fingers.

  Rosemary felt the muscles of his buttocks clench under her digging fingers as Bullock slammed his raging cock into her throat like a battering ram. He was shaking and screaming like a madman. The cries of his lust overwhelmed the quiet music, and even the moonlight seemed to flare more violently.

  "Suck me... love me...ooohhhhh, baby... don't let me die... love me back to life... I'm going... to cummmmmm... cummmmm in your... mouououououthththththhhh... ohhhhh, babbbbbbbyyyyyyyyy!"

  She swirled her tongue salaciously and furiously around his choking enormous prick that threatened to stab her tonsils to a bloody mass of tissue. Her own thighs were squeezing and kneading fretfully, and her sticky liquid was flowing so copiously she felt it must be pooling on the carpet beneath her. Love me back to life, he'd screamed. Oh, God. Yes. Love him back to life. She opened her mouth as wide as possible to gulp a long breath and then she set her teeth tenderly in the velvety skin of his cock head and began to suck even harder.

  Bullock felt the pleasure-pain of her sharp teeth bits into his sensitive flesh, and he felt the incredible machinery of his organs begin the orgiastic cataclysm of a tidal-wave climax. He tensed his ass hard and threw himself into her hot, waiting, blessed mouth that received him like a sacrament.

  "NOOOOOOOO-WWWW!" he screamed, and it was the Geronimo yel
l that heralded a frontal attack as his bloated balls began to shoot the streams of troops roaring out the constricted passage of his cock. The hot jets of creamy, seething sperm-filled semen spewed in mighty gushes, convulsive liquid offerings boiling down her hot sucking throat.

  Rosemary swallowed furiously, trying to take all the teeming blazing cum right down to her belly. She guzzled and gasped, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically to keep from drowning in the never-ending bursts of his spasms of ejaculation. Scintillating needles of delight spread (through her as she sucked again and again, sucking his balls dry and flaccid. She could feel him bucking and bucking in slower and slower thrusts as he emptied the seemingly never-ending load of his passion deep into her receptive belly.

  At last he collapsed, empty and hollow and replete. He fell in exhaustion on top of Rosemary, sliding down on her till her whole body was covered with his fatigued, muscle-lax one, and he cradled her, his mouth fastening on hers to taste his own hot cum in her mouth. If a knife or a gun or an explosion found his back now, it would be all right. A quick end to his small eternity of joy was not a-bad way to go.

  Chapter Three

  "All right. Now let's see you move," Garrett said, sipping his cognac, comfortably half sitting with his legs stretched out on the wide lounge that served as both bed at night and couch in the daytime. The huge loft had been partitioned so that his apartment was quite private and separated from the rehearsal hall. The Dallas Community Little Theatre paid for the whole thing, and that way he didn't have to pay rent out of his salary. Once a thriving dance studio in the late thirties and early forties, with a stage and a huge expanse of polished floor, the loft had stood vacant and defunct for years until Garrett had discovered it and persuaded the Board to rent it.

  Hilda stood uncertainly by the low coffee table. She looked even taller in the expensive beige pants suit. I'm not quite sure what you mean. Would you explain it a little?" She felt the nerves tighten in her stomach and diaphragm. She knew very well what she was prepared to do to get this part, but so far Justin Garrett had been strictly business, putting her through the paces, reading various scenes of the play.

  "Just come through that door, walk across the room, and sit down in the wing chair." Justin knew exactly what she'd come for. It had been obvious, the way she'd arranged to sit next to him at the hamburger joint, fawning over him and hanging on his every word, her thigh pressed against his in the booth the kids had jammed into. He knew that she believed the old cliche about getting ahead in the theatre, casting couches and the whole bit. He even knew that she had told herself that she was doing it to get this part. He also knew it was a lie. She was a bitch in heat and would have manipulated anything or anybody to get laid. Well, he wouldn't disappoint her, but no part was ever given to anybody for a roll in the hay. The persistence of the myth, however, kept him well supplied with hot young flesh.

  Justin watched her narrowly as she went out and then came awkwardly through the door and pranced affectedly across the room. She hadn't the poise of a giraffe. Her legs were too long for her torso, but she had good grapefruit boobs hung on her narrow rib cage. They bounced and jiggled, unbound by a bra, under the clinging tan knit top. He could see the areolas and nipples outlined. Sometimes these long narrow ones were hotter than the round soft ones, the nerves more sensitive and somehow stretched tighter on their long bodies. A pervading warmth glowed in his belly from the cognac. He felt his balls tighten, looking at Hilda's lolling breasts that looked even more round and full on her thinness.

  Hilda sat down and crossed her legs, her arms on the arms of the chair and her head thrown back against the chair back, the way she'd seen actresses do it in the movies. Then she crossed her arms on her knees and leaned forward so her breasts were cleaved and the tops showed over the scoop neckline. She looked at Justin Garrett nervously. He was just lying there, his handsome, dramatic face inscrutable and expressionless, sipping occasionally on the cognac, as though he were not impressed. She felt like a slave on the block who had not pleased the best buyer. But then she knew all about buying things. It was her family's money that had bought her into Peabody and just about anything else she ever wanted except... well, the things she really wanted. Grace, poise, charm, men of higher than average quality, and a career in the theatre... a real career as a real star. That was a power even stronger than money.

  "Justin," she said huskily, her pale cat eyes on his. She stood up slowly, "I want that part. I'll do anything to get it." Slowly she began unbuttoning the top of her pants suit. If he wasn't going to make a move, she'd have to.

  "Tell me about it," he answered sardonically, his weight on his elbows, his back supported by the mass of deep pillows. He watched her as she slowly unbuttoned the knit top and slid it off. Her breasts were even better in the flesh, the same pale tannish color as the rest of her skin and hair. Great soft mounds of perfectly rounded flesh capped with pale brown areolas and nipples like large brown pennies. Her shoulders and arms were fragile and slender and looked too weak to support the great heaviness of her fleshy breasts.

  "I want that part so badly... I'll do anything you want me to... to get it." Her brittle voice had lowered to almost a whisper, as though her breath supply were running out.

  "Anything?" The one word hung in the air between them as palpable as a neon sign flashing its silent scream into the night. His eyes never left her narrow face that seemed to hollow and pale, and her eyes assured him the price was agreeable.

  Hilda slid her fingertips inside the elasticized waistband of her knit pants and very slowly slithered them down over her narrow but sleekly curved hips and thighs, letting them drop to the floor and stepping out of them with more assurance than she'd had all evening. He wasn't unaffected now. He was even stiller, like a spider that has spotted its prey and waited the game patiently.

  Confidence began to return a little now. Men were so simple once you caught on to them. Young, old, rich, poor. They all wanted to fuck. All the time. Any time. Anywhere. For a girl without many obvious physical assets, she'd had her share. At fourteen she'd started with the chauffeur and had progressed from there. She'd fucked most of the promising young men at her coming-out party at one time or another, but none of them had wanted to marry her and in truth she hadn't wanted to marry them either. She wanted the power that only an actress had -adulation of a whole audience-love pouring out of a million hearts at once. The kind of love she'd felt tonight wafting on waves of applause across the grass to the spotlighted Celia. Well, that naive little snip was not going to get this part. Tryouts had only been announced in tonight's paper, so Hilda knew that no one was going to get the jump on her. Tomorrow night was the announced time.

  "I move better without... impediments," she whispered, skinning the skimpy bikini panties down and kicking them aside.

  "Move over here," Justin ordered metallically. Hilda walked slowly toward him, feeling the air on her nakedness, trying to assess the hard-eyed director, to gauge the affect her nude slenderness was having on him.

  She had nerve. He had to give her credit. Her large perfect breasts moved enticingly as she slowly undulated toward him. She did move better without clothes. Her pubic patch was exactly the same tan color as her hair. Naked, she had the kind of feline grace of a young Lauren Bacall, but it was completely hidden by her expensive but somehow unattractive clothes. The breasts were much better, of course. Justin couldn't remember ever seeing more perfect breasts. Their full perfection was even more startling against her slender body with the long, long legs. He felt his balls tighten automatically.

  He'd had to do without a lot of things in the last ten years, since his blacklisting, but women were not one of them. Even away from Hollywood, his deep trained voice and handsome heavy face attracted women.

  It had been a goddamned hard ten years, tramping around the country directing clods in The Man Who Came to Dinner. After the blacklisting he hadn't even been able to get a job on a skin flick or a spaghetti Western.
Hollywood was a closed shop and the gossip far deadlier than in the smallest Midwestern hamlet.

  Strangely enough, despite the headlines that had generated the Hollywood gossip, none of the little theatre groups he'd directed these last lean years had ever heard of the Executive Convention Center or that he had owned it. The public memory was far shorter than the industry memory. The irony of it all was that what made the industry wary in 1961 would hardly be commented on in 1971.

  The important thing now was taking over the Peabody Academy. This was an opportunity that he could build a bankroll out of... a stake to go back and produce his own movie. Just one was all he needed, and he'd be welcomed back to the bosom of Hollywood.

  * * *

  He slid forward to the edge of the couch and reached out to pull Hilda's naked hips toward him. She stood right in front of him, and her smooth skin was popping into goosebumps. She was losing her nerve, and he could almost smell her fear coming back. Without a word he spread her thighs in a straddled stance. Still looking at the curly tan patch of hair, casually, without warning, he rammed two fingers straight up in her cunt all the way.

  "That's what you came for, my dear," he whispered, feeling the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched around his fingers.