My voice alone will give you you know what!
A Fantasy Realized: A Lesson Learned
With only a little help, his voice could give me an orgasm. Letting my hands drop to my lap, I did a little finger-dance on the center seam of my Levi shorts.
I pulled into the parking lot behind the old red brick auditorium, got out, and entered through the stage door.
Immediately upon hearing Craig’s voice, I realized I was late or they had started the meeting early, most likely the former. According to my watch, it was eight minutes to six. Damn piece of junk! The curtains were open so, stepping quietly, I crept across the stage, down the steps, and sat in the front row a few seats from the group.
Craig Russell was sitting on the edge of the stage. “…So this time, we’re hoping to turn a profit by hiring a professional for the lead role. We’ve already set…”
He spotted me and said, “Hey, Trina, glad you made it. Come on over and join us.”
I muttered a quiet, “Sorry,” and moved closer.
Without missing a beat, Craig continued. “The supporting cast is already set up. Gloria Epstein is the understudy. She’ll do the lead part until Ms. Crandall takes over for the last week of rehearsals.”
They’re hiring a professional actor? It was the first I’d heard of it. Gotta get with Craig and see how much I missed.
Since my first year at the university, I had procured and altered costumes for the group, one of only four paid positions. The pay was pitiful. It certainly wasn’t enough for me to have to put up with some arrogant actress. It was okay dressing locals, but I was a long way from a professional designer and didn’t want to be. I was an art major, more into landscapes than costumes.
I tried concentrating on Craig’s words as he went on about set construction, publicity, and the like, but my mind had other ideas. I loved his deep baritone. With only a little help, his voice could give me an orgasm. Letting my hands drop to my lap, I did a little finger-dance on the center seam of my Levi shorts.
I’d had a thing for Craig since helping my mother do alterations on gowns for his wedding to Lillian Eden. Craig was nearly old enough to be my father — at least forty — six feet, black hair greying at the temples, and riveting green eyes. Watching him and listening to his voice encouraged me to add a little weight to my finger-dance.
In my judgment, he was the sexiest man in town. I never liked him much; he was too stuck on himself, too certain he was God’s gift to women, but sexual thoughts of Craig got my juices flowing in no time.
Rumor had it that three separate university students had bedded him. Lucky bitches! If my mother and Lillian weren’t good friends, I’d already have hit on him.
The sensations happening in and around my pussy occupied my mind so that I didn’t realize the meeting was over until the others started ambling up the stairs and back stage. I thought the wet spot between my legs was already seeping through the denim. Bringing my fingers to my face, I sniffed. Oh, yeah!
Someone closed the curtains, and it got noisy like the set crew was building something. Craig was talking to Jeff Willis, the stage manager. I gave my pussy a couple more pokes. Finally, Jeff headed backstage, and before I could stand up, Craig was right there.
He sat next to me and placed his hand on mine. It was something he did with all the women; he was a touchy-feely kind of guy. His fingers made a subtle caressing motion. “You okay, Trina?”
His touch made my panties even squishier. A hot flush bathed my body. Crap. Does he know what that does to me? I was pretty sure he did. Craig never did anything unintentional. “I’m fine. My damn watch is losing time again.” With sheer determination I forced my mind to focus. “What’s this about hiring an actor? How much did I miss anyway?”
Craig stood, took my hand, and pulled me up beside him. “Nothing I can’t cover in five minutes, but some of it concerns your job. Let’s go up to the office and talk. There’s something on my computer you should have.”
Back when the auditorium served as Edenville’s community meeting place, Craig’s office was used by the mayor. There was a floor-to-ceiling window looking across the park toward Edenville’s New Civic Center. In front of the window, a sofa and two matching chairs formed a conversation group around a glass-topped coffee table. Bookshelves, a desk, and a bar filled the opposite wall. A door next to the bar opened into a small bathroom.
I sat on the couch.
Craig took a chair, propped his feet on the coffee table, and quickly reviewed what I’d missed. It wasn’t much, just the name of the play — Neil Simon’s The Prisoner of Second Avenue — and the fact that they were hiring Eloise Crandall for the lead role.
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Funny you haven’t. She’s got Broadway credits up the ying-yang. She has two Tony Awards, a Helen Hayes Award, and a Drama League Award.”
My stomach did a flip. “Jesus! I can’t dress someone like that. She’s used to professional costumers. You’ll have to find someone else.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can do it. You’re very talented. That’s why I pushed to give you the job.”
I laughed out loud. “Oh? I thought it was because Aunt Lillian twisted your arm.” Lillian wasn’t an actual relative, but she and my mother were like sisters. I had always thought of her that way.
Craig dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. He grinned sheepishly and sat next to me. “Well, that might’ve influenced me some.” He took my hand, caressing it as he had done in the auditorium. “You are talented, even if I did discover it after the fact.”
“I’m just good with a sewing machine, that’s all.”
“You’ve done a great job with the first play this year, and the three plays last year. They looked fantastic.”
“But the actors were all locals. I grew up with most of them. They’re all amateurs like me. This professional actress works with pros.”
He grinned. “Oh, come on, Trina, she puts her panties on just like you.”
I withdrew my hand. “I really don’t want to do this, Craig. Can’t you hire someone else?” I hated the pleading tone in my voice, but it was out before I could stop it.
He moved closer and took my hand again. Looking into my eyes, he said, “You’re making too much of this. You don’t know what she’s like. She’ll have to wear whatever you come up with. Besides, no one I could find would do the job half as well as you.”
I breathed in his aftershave and felt the wet spot on my panties grow. My cautious side urged me to break eye contact and pull away; then, suddenly, it was too late.
With his other hand, he drew my face to his and kissed me. The sensation of his lips on mine turned me into putty. Laying me back against the arm of the couch, he continued the kiss.
Seemingly of their own accord, my lips opened, and his tongue explored my mouth. The intimacy was potent enough that a small orgasm shook my body. There was no resistance left. I’d dreamed of this moment without hoping it would ever happen.
I realized he was taking advantage of my vulnerability, but after imagining sex with this man for months, I abandoned all awareness except what he was doing to my body, and took pleasure even in the feel of his fingers undoing and laying my shirt open, revealing my braless breasts to his eyes, hands, and lips.
Hovering over me, he kissed my newly exposed flesh, tormenting the rigid little tips; every touch created tremors deep inside me.
While continuing to tease my nipples, he unzipped my shorts and slid his hand inside, toying with my pussy, working me, entering me with two, then three fingers, making me wetter than I could remember.
After a while, he brought his pussy soaked fingers to our faces, inserted them into our kiss, and we licked away my juices.
Pulling back, he stripped me of my shorts and panties, then kneeling between my knees, he used his fingers to spread my wet folds, leaned close, drew a deep breath through his nose, growled, and began licking everything in sight.
For minutes, he licked my asshole and used his finger to tease the sensitive ring. I leaked profusely, and his slurping noises drove my arousal toward the peak. I worked my hips to get my clit under his tongue, but he was adept at avoiding it.
Finally, he slipped a finger inside my hole to the first joint and clamped his mouth over my clit. He gave it a few passes with his tongue, then shoved his finger deep into my ass, sending me into a body shaking orgasm. He continued licking my clit and finger-fucked my butt until I lay twitching, as limp as a rag.
When my senses returned, I found him kneeling between my knees. He had freed his cock from his tight fitting jeans. It stood out from his body, long and thick, precum glistening on the knob.
He rubbed the crown up and down my soaking cunt, and then eased inside. Fully clothed, he lay atop of me and kissed me, his face still wet with my juices.
I loved how his cock filled me, how it slowly moved deep into my belly. I could have stayed under him forever, but my fantasy included sucking his dick and feeling his hot cum spurt into my mouth. I had masturbated to the fantasy dozens of times; I wanted to experience it in reality.
Wiggling out from under him, I knelt on the floor and urged him to lie back on the couch.
He looked surprised and disappointed that I was taking control but quickly relaxed and let me have my way.
I wrapped both hands around my prize. It was hard, leaking, and slick with my juices.
When I took the top three inches in my mouth, his dick throbbed and leaked; I swallowed and gave an orgasmic shudder.
He relaxed completely, giving in to the inevitable, ready to enjoy a blowjob from someone young enough to be his daughter.
I swallowed his cock, taking him deep. He watched, probably wondering where all this came from, as I’d never shown any interest in him, sexually.
Having only given blowjobs in my fantasies, I was determined to prove I could do it right. I had watched enough porn to know the basics.
With only the crown in my mouth, I sucked hard and ran my tongue around and over the tip. His low groan encouraged me and I took him as deep as I could without gagging.
I had fantasized performing various sexual acts with and on him since seeing him and hearing his voice the first time. Having my lips around Craig’s cock was a dream come true.
Gripping his shaft with one hand, I replaced my mouth with my other hand and rubbed the slick knob. His testicles were drawn tight to the root of his cock. Lowering my nose to the hairy sack, I inhaled and shuddered at his musky scent.
Again, I took the end of his dick into my mouth and moved my head down, taking as much of his cock as I could. I trembled at the erotic feel of his dick so deep.
I gently massaged the tight ball sack, and his hips pushed up, sending his hard-on deeper, gagging me. I backed off.
His involuntary twitches, combined with his moans, made me realize he was about to cum. I hesitated to take his semen in my mouth, yet, at the same time I wanted it, wanted to experience the feel of his cock throbbing and spewing his essence.
Taking only the top two inches into my mouth, I braced myself for the new experience. The instant I applied suction and pumped his cock, his body went rigid.
Though expected, I was startled when spurt after spurt exploded to the back of my mouth. The overflow coated my still pumping hand and onto his balls.
Orgasmic trembles surged through my body at the extreme intimacy of what I’d done.
I pulled back and sat on my heels with Craig’s cum dripping from my chin onto my breasts.
Craig didn’t look at me. He didn’t speak. He stood and turned away, stuffing his softening cock back in his trousers. Was he angry? I couldn’t tell.
I don’t know what I expected. Had I embarrassed him by taking control? Did he think it was his role to decide when and how we would fuck? Had I overstepped my boundaries as an employee and a woman? But, you know, as I sat there, covered in his cum, I didn’t give a fuck. He pushed my buttons, and I responded.
I collected my clothes and headed for the bathroom, needing to clean up in the worst way.
When I came out, Craig picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to me. “This is Ms. Crandall’s measurements, and a list of stores here in town offering a discount, in case you need to buy something.”
I took the paper and started to leave.
Before I reached the door, he spoke; a pleading tone in his voice. “And Trina, please forget what we just did. I hope it won’t go further than this room.”
Ah, so that was it. He was worried I would tell Aunt Lillian we had screwed.
Did he really consider me so naive? I hadn’t wanted a relationship. I’d realized all along that it was just a quickie; no attachments, no regrets.
I left his words hanging in the air. They didn’t deserve an answer. I simply took the paper and, still smelling of his cum, left the office. Fantasy realized.
Want to join our exclusive SLAY VIP LINGERIE TRY ON HAUL CLICK HERE
Don’t worry your escapades are safe with us.
My voice alone will give you you know what!
