Actress and Audience

So I live in a large college town in California and I serve drinks at a bar relatively close to the school. So, naturally, I meet a lot of students.

Some become regulars, others stop by once or twice then never again and some of them end up working right alongside me. Zoey belonged to that last group.

She was a theatre major with plans to move to the Big Apple to try to find a career on broadway. I always thought it was silly, seeing how close we were to Hollywood, but it was obvious her passion was for the stage rather than the screen.

She was a sweet girl. Polite and patient, but also unafraid to make fun of people with a tone and expression that made you never quite sure how serious she was. And she would constantly surprise me with how out of pocket she could be.

This one time I was serving a woman, probably early 30s, with honestly a really huge rack. I'm a gentleman and a professional, so obviously i just served her her drink and that was that.

But then Zoey came up behind me and said, "god damn those are some massive mommy milkers."

And I would be like "what the fuck?!" Just out of sheer surprise.

But she would just reply with a cute smile and a head tilt and skip away like nothing happened, never to address it again. She said shit like that a lot, but she was such a cutie pie that no one ever said anything about it.

She was recently 23, probably somewhere near 5'4. She had long and straight blonde hair that that reached just the top of her chest. Speaking of, her breasts were modest but perky and cute. Maybe a B if I had to guess, I'm not sure, really.

Anyways, she had served drinks alongside me for about six months after drinking and tipping me nicely for two years. It was a perfect fit.

I was disappointed that the time had come for her to chase her dreams, but this was a college town and I was 35, I've seen plenty of people come and go. I was happy she had the chance to do what she wanted to do. Before leaving her last shift, though, she had offered me an invitation.

It was for a one-person play she would be starring in the following weekend: "Triumph of the Orgasm: Breaking Down the Wall Between Actress and Audience". Reading that mouthful of a title made me both surprised and intrigued.

She blushed and twirled her hair in her fingertips as she explained it was a sort of 'last hurrah' that she was putting on with other theatre people she'd formed bonds with here. Apparently, it started as a joke, but became more and more serious as time went on. And since she was about to leave forever, why not?

She didn't give me much information on what the show would actually involve, but I knew whatever it was must be good so I graciously accepted.

And now, the night of the show is finally at hand.

After anticipating this exhibition night and day, I mentally settled on the assumption that this would be something like 'The Vagina Monologues'. It would probably be Zoey sitting on a stool talking about typically taboo topics through a feminist lens.

It seemed interesting and I never minded coming to Zoey's shows in the past, but to be honest I wasn't sure how into this I would be. But that alluring title made sure I arrived 10 minutes early.

The house was small, only a few rows of seats but from three different angles. Desperately wanting to remain as incognito as possible, I chose a top seat on my right side, scooting pretty far down the line. I was one of the first to enter and noticed an older, sophisticated man already seated front and center; looking serious.

As others poured in, my instinctive people watching affirmed my prediction of how the show would go. Young people, a few men and lots of women were pouring in at a steady pace. Before I knew it, there were 20-somethings on either side of me. I was starting to get nervous.

But then the lights dimmed as did the murmuring and a spotlight lit up a black stool in the center of the stage. I smirked; I was right.

Zoey stepped out, dressed casually. Jeans, jacket, basic makeup and done-up hair. She looked cute and typical. She sat down on the stool and took a moment to scan the faces of her audience. She even looked my way, im not sure if she could see me or not.

"Welcome." She said. "To the climax of my theatrical career here in College Town, Newstate."

Everyone in the audience clapped, I did too.

"As advertised," she continued. "Tonight's exhibition will be about tearing the walls down between you and I. You will witness things that you won't witness in any other play at any other theatre. But, I can personally guarantee to you that it will be real. And looking around at you all, I have a feeling you will enjoy."

She looked me right in the eyes, making me instantly tense up. She rose from the stool.

"Sit back, relax and enjoy 'Triumph of The Orgasm'". More applause.

She picked up her stool and walked away as the light turned off. Then in a moment, the curtains were pulled open on the scene of a young woman's bedroom, impressively detailed with wall art, fairy lights, and a clutter of clothes strewn about all over. Mainly shirts and jeans, but bras and panties too. It gave me a quiet perverted thrill.

Zoey walked out, backpack on her shoulder, phone in hand.

"Girly, I know," she said into the prop. "But, honestly what you guys did is barely even considered a date. And i think he really likes me..."

She tossed her bag aside and sat on her bed, which was elevated slightly at an angle and pointing straight forward. Every detail of the bedding and pillows was visible from all angles.

"Alright, I understand. I'll tell him no. No, no, it's okay. If it makes you uncomfy, that's all there is to it... Of course! I love you too, girly. We'll talk later. Okay, buh-bye."

She hung up the phone and fell back onto the bed, groaning loudly. A soothing, relaxed beat began to play.

After a moment, she stood back up to kick off her shoes, then unzip and remove her jacket, revealing a simple red top underneath.

Then, she unbuckled her belt, removed it, and slipped out of her jeans in a practical, non-sexual way. Though the act was mundane and innocent, I couldn't help but feel a little aroused at the sight. She was adorable and sexy in her tiny pink panties.

She let her hair down onto her shoulders and hopped back onto the bed and leaned up against the pillows. Again, her whole body head to toe was unobstructed. She picked up the phone again and made another call.

"Mark? Hi, so listen, I think I'm gonna have to pass on mini golf this weekend. Yeah, I'm sorry. I just don't really see you that way is all. No... no, it has nothing to do with Mallory, I swear. It's just how I feel. I know... I knoooow. But, I can't. I'm sorry."

She hung up the phone and clutched it to her chest. She breathed in hard and let it out fast. I think her character made the right choice, to be honest.

"Oh, Mark, I'm sorry," she said, scrolling through pictures on her phone. "It just wasn't meant to be-"

She froze, staring blankly at her phone screen. I could see in her eyes she was thinking hard, contemplating something mischievous. As she did, she tilted her phone enough towards the audience that we could all see what she was reacting to: a picture of a buff, young man, presumably Mark, in a tight little speedo on social media. With a big bulge.

The reveal garnered a few laughs, likely out of surprise mixed with Zoey's- well, Zoey's character's puckish reaction to it. She looked at her phone again.

"I mean," she said to herself. "It would be wrong of me to date him or fuck him... but surely looking is harmless, right? Surely thinking and imagining wouldn't violate any written or unwritten girl code... Surely..."

Her voice trailed off as she, as well as the rest of the audience and myself, became distracted by what she was doing with her free hand. She was tenderly massaging her own breast.

She looked at it, as if surprised it was happening at all, but then shifted her attention back to the phone and continued.

"Mark..." she muttered, squeezing herself tighter and more aggressive. "Come on, Mark we shouldn't. It wouldn't be right."

She started to pinch at her nipple, which now revealed she was not wearing a bra. I felt my pants get tighter; this is nothing like the Vagina Monologues. This is closer to some shitty internet porno. Maybe I just don't understand high art. But even the worst kind of porn starring Zoey, sweet, beautiful Zoey, was far more interesting than any play I could ever see. But this wasn't that. I was just being a pervert and letting my imagination get the better of me.

"Mark, I'm serious." She went on. "We're gonna get caught out here and you won't be able to hide that big... thick... cock in that tiny... little... speedo..."

She closed her eyes, seemingly to imagine the aforementioned big thick dick.

"Fuck it!" She said.

Then, without any hesitation, she ripped her shirt off her body, leaving her on her bed only in her tight white panties and frilly pink socks. The audience cheered and clapped My jaw dropped, I had no idea I would see this girl's tits tonight.

But, now that I was, I was hypnotized. They were fucking beautiful. Medium sized, probably a C cup, bigger than I often imagined, with thick nipples and above average sized areoles, without taking up too much of each boob.

Her tummy was flat, but her hips and waist were wider than I expected. She looked grabble; fuckable. I blinked away the thoughts. This is live theatre, not some sort of peep show. While I crossed my legs to cover my growing erection, I focused hard on the artistry of it all.

Freely topless, she still stared at her phone while messaging her breasts one at a time, always ending with a few pinches and tugs at her own nipples. I swear I saw beads of sweat forming on the gorgeous globes.

Focusing harder now, she placed the phone down and shut her eyes, taking her undressing of this 'Mark' character into the safety of her mind. And then she stuck a hand in her panties. More cheers.

My eyes grew wide and I started to look around. People were smiling, couples were cuddling close to each other. The old man near the front was leaning forward with a considering brow and a finger on his chin.

What the fuck kind of play is this?

I didn't care. This beautiful girl who I've secretly crushed on for years was literally masturbating no more than 20 feet away from me. My dick was as hard as it could be.

I watched her slowly, gently, rub circles in her underwear as her breathing took on constant rhythm that matched with the gentle beat still playing. With her other hand, she still kneaded each tit and flicked at her nipples.

I didn't even notice, but I was gently rubbing my dick through my pants, too. I looked at the audience again and noticed I wasn't the only one. One guy even had his girl leaned over, rubbing his crotch hard while he slid his hand under her ass. That shit was getting me just as hot as what Zoey was doing. Turning back to the stage, though, I realized she still reigned supreme.

I watched her, with both hands, grab at the hem of her panties and wiggle them down her thighs, past her knees and off her ankles. Once she was free of them, she slowly opened her legs wide and gave every single one of us a free view at her naked wet pussy. A bright spotlight illuminated it the moment it appeared. More cheers. She wore a thin stretch of blonde pubic hair.

She continued to rub her clit while she brought her other hand nearer. She squeezed her thigh and pulled, giving us a look at the inside of her cute little cunt. I was rubbing myself hard now and a quick glance to the side made me lose all inhibitions.

That guy I mentioned earlier now had his penis out of his pants and his girlfriend shamelessly stroked it up and down. I must've been staring, since she looked over at me and blew me a kiss before taking her boyfriend's cock all the way into her mouth.

I looked back at the stage just in time to see her penetrate herself with her middle finger. Then, her pointer finger as well. Then, even her ring finger, too. She was furiously fucking herself with one hand and rubbing her clit sore with the other.

Her face was intense with pleasure, she was moaning loudly; pathetically, even.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Mark..."

I turned back to the crowd. I saw at least three penises. That old man in the front, whose dick was much bigger than I'd ever have guessed, still held his intellectual pose while unashamedly masturbating hard, but slow. The girls in the crowd were either rubbing a man next to them or themself.

At this point I decided fuck it and pulled my own cock out as well. It was strange to masturbate in such a large group of people and even stranger considering my personal friend was the inspiration for it all. Oh, Christ I hope she can't see me.

Then, every light in the building turned on. Every single one of us was visible as can be, rubbing ourselves silly like a crazed group of perverts. None of us stopped. Neither did I.

As Zoey made her way closer and closer to orgasm, she scanned the audience with her eyes once again. At the end of the line was me, dick in hand, pumping like a dumbass with a sweaty, likely goofy expression. She smiled brightly when she saw me. She did not take her eyes off me.

All at once, the energy in the room began to tense. Groans sounded increasingly more desperate and strained until finally, we all sighed with relief.

I don't know if there's a world record for amount of simultaneous group orgasms, but we've gotta be at least in the top five.

Cum was everywhere, on hands, on faces, in laps. Mine, shooting like spider-man, launched on the chair ahead of me. And even the chair in front of that, too. I cum a lot, to be honest.

After several moments of panting, we all were able to regain our composure. Zoey stood up off the bed, proudly marched to center stage while juices dripped down her leg and she took a bow.

The audience erupted into exhausted applause, a few people even standing. I was sitting dumbfounded by what I just experienced. But being the good friend that I am, I clapped with passion, rubbing both my hands with my own sticky cum.

She turned around and bowed again, giving us a first look at her shapely peach butt. It was cute and bigger than I thought. She turned around again for one last bow, then turned to leave. As she did she looked me in the eyes.

"What... the fuck... was that?" I muttered through labored breaths.