"I shaved my little pussy just for you," the girl said, her fingers tracing upward over the insides of her spread thighs towards the short skirt she wore. Her small pink tongue darted over her upper lip.
She was sitting on a high windowsill, leaning against the window, the sun hanging on her left shoulder. Dappled pools of shadow played artlessly over her breasts, which nestled snugly within a thin woollen top. Her nipples made bullet point indentations in the tight fabric.
She inclined her head down towards me, and a swish of dark brown hair spilled luxuriantly over her face. She looked at me through it, her pale blue eyes meeting mine. "I'm not wearing any panties, you know." Her right hand stopped its languorous exploration of her leg and her fingers played tantalisingly just inside the hem of her skirt. She continued, "It's just this itty bitty skirt between you and my tight, wet little pussy. I bet you can smell it. Do you want to see it? Do you, Keith? Do you want to reach two fingers into the soft flesh between my thighs and spread my sweet little lips? To gently – or, perhaps, not so gently – push them inside me and see if I'm still a virgin?"
"I want your cock, Keith. I can see it, that... huge thing you've got there, pushing against the front of your trousers. Oh, it's so big! It wants my pussy, Keith, and whatever your head might say, I can see exactly how much you desire me."
"Is it these you want?" Her hands cupped her breasts, lifting them up until they strained against her top, full and luxurious, nipples about to spill out of the scoop neck. "Do you want me to wrap my tits around that big cock and let you fuck them?" She moaned, prolonged and throaty, finally letting it breathe out into a low laugh.
"Or is it these?" Her small, pale pink tongue traced around her full lips leaving a glistening trail of saliva. "My head in your lap, your hands in my hair. My lips wrapped tight around your big dick, my tongue lapping at its head." Through the top, she pinched her right nipple, rolling it under her fingers.
She began to speak again, her voice husky, but I interrupted by lunging towards her and mashing my lips against hers. As we kissed, our tongues flailing wildly at each other, I held my hips back so that she wouldn't feel the huge erection I had. I gasped, though, when her small hand reached between us and grabbed mine. Swiftly, she guided my hand under her skirt and laid it on her pussy. She really wasn't wearing panties. I could feel the soft contours of her vulva, feel its heat and, oh god, she was so wet. She moaned low into my mouth. Her other hand grabbed my cock through my trousers. She was slowly stroking it when Tony, the director, shouted, "And cut."
"Great work, guys," he said. "That was insanely hot Diane. How Ewan managed to refrain from... uh, well, I mean, I don't know how he controlled himself so well."
In fact, I was barely controlling myself. This film was my big break – I was a RADA actor who'd been spotted by a talent agent and cast in an indie movie. My co-star was Hollywood royalty – Diane Ramsey.
She'd been acting since she was six years old and schilling for soft drink companies. Typical teen movies had followed, and this was going to be her unveiling as a serious actress. Figuratively, anyway – she had an ironclad no-nudity clause and a mother who, all the right newspapers reported, spent her every moment ensuring her twenty-year-old daughter stayed untouched.
The movie was one of those highly acclaimed pieces that critics love and that get released in about 10 cinemas around the world. This one was about the slow disintegration of a superficially wholesome American family. I played the eldest son Keith, confused and mostly lost in a desperate sexual funk – in other words, despite being yet another twenty-something playing a teenager, my biggest acting challenge was the American accent. Diane played my sister, who in the next scene – linearly, at least, as it wouldn't be filmed for another couple of weeks – I was going to fuck in one of those tiresome, sexless modern movie sex scenes.
The director wasn't happy about that. He had wanted to make something along the lines of "The Dreamers", but the inclusion of Diane, though restrictive, basically meant the film would open huge. Add a few planted posts on a certain movie website that in this picture Diane Ramsey was finally going to show her tits, and we'd have one of the most commercially successful films of the year.
Diane was sexy, though. I, like almost every other male in the world, had jerked off over those faked pictures of her in a leather corset that only concealed her belly button. They were good, too, the woman had a great body, and the images didn't look faked at all.
And now, the famous virgin had let me touch her pussy.
Diane was let go, but I was kept back to film my reaction shots. Typically the other actor would stay and repeat their performance to help me with mine, but Diane was too big for courtesy. It was easy, anyway. I'd never thought much of method acting, besides thinking it was pretentious guff, but to film my awe-struck reaction the tactile memory of Diane's pussy lingering on my fingers probably helped a lot.
I still had a hard-on when I finally reached my trailer door. One of the script girls had noticed, and given me a slow, sexy smile and a wink as I walked past her. I opened my trailer and almost came.
Diane Ramsey lay on my bed, a white sheet wrapped around her belly, her pussy and breasts bared. Her legs were spread, one knee resting against the wall, the other running along the bed then trailing of it, her foot resting flat on the floor, pale pink nails lurid against the burgundy carpet. Her golden-tanned thighs were glossy with sweat, as were her paler breasts. Her nipples, such a pale pink that small as they were they almost blended undiscernibly into her breasts, were beginning to recede as she neared orgasm. Her hair spilled extravagantly down the pillows and her closed eyes pointed at the ceiling, her plump red lips pouting in an "O" of pleasure. Her left arm formed two sides of a triangle with her head. Her right hand rested with casual insouciance among the sparse brown hairs of her bush, her main finger slowly, powerfully plunging in and out of her spread pussy lips.
I cleared my throat; she opened her eyes and looked at me.
"You're finally here," she said. "Come and finish me off."
Wordlessly I approached her and sat on the edge of the bed, my ass resting against her right thigh. Once again, I could smell her arousal – more strongly now. To me, no pussy smells the same as any other, and Diane Ramsey's smelt of honeysuckle and cinnamon. In the low light seeping through the closed curtains, I could see the sparkle of liquid on her vulva.
I placed my hand over hers and began to slowly stroke at her cunt. As I did, she moaned, and I leaned over and kissed her. At first, just our lips met, then parted, but slowly we explored more and more, our tongues entering each other's mouths as my fingers delved into her pussy. She was no virgin.
She came quickly, and quietly. "Now," she purred, arching her back, "it's your turn."
She rolled on top of me and our kissing continued as she undid my shirt button by button. When she was done, I raised my back off the bed and pulled the shirt off. She pressed tight against me and I could feel her small nipples and rounded breasts pushing against my chest.
"You have amazing breasts," I told her in between kisses.
"Thanks," she said, "Dr. Nevin does exceptional work."
