Just the thought of him made my heart flutter.
In a way, I won him as a prize in a scriptwriting competition – “sixteen weekends of coaching, mentoring or script-doctoring from a seasoned industry professional”.
I was twenty-one and he was forty-five. I was a young film writer/director and he was the man who knew all there was to know about the business. He agreed to act as a mentor for me.
I know now that he had to teach me some of the skill of being a true human being before he could pass on anything about the craft of writing and so in all of our meetings when we were talking about this character or that plot point, we were really talking about me. Each week we went deeper and deeper and I shed more and more of the defensive masks and screens I’d learned to call my “personality.”
At this stage in my life, I thought of myself as strait/curious. I thought of him as strait/straiter.
For all of his knowledge, he didn’t even notice that I had a crush on him the size of Portugal. That was one mask I kept well in place. I never admitted that for the whole week, I thought of nothing and no one but him and the time I could be by his side. He thought me the most dedicated scriptwriter in the world without realising that the dedication was to him. I loved him. I had a pash on him. I was a dizzy schoolgirl whose heart skipped at the mention of his name – which I mentioned at every opportunity:
“I’m working on a project with K at the moment.”
It was the most intense four months of my life. I sat in the glow of his brilliance and attention and we spoke of the deepest aspects of life through the characters in the film. And then it was over. The script was complete and prepared for funding submission – the final part of my prize. We wrapped it up on our last script meeting, drank a glass of wine and wished ourselves luck. He shook my hand in both his big warm paws and told me he’d never enjoyed working on a project so much. Then we parted.
For the next four weeks I was bereft. There was a photo of him from the competition brochure. I stared at it until it dissolved into meaningless half-tone dots. I imagined him making love to me and masturbated until no cum was left in my balls. I was a heart-broken mess.
Then, one eight o’clock at night, I received a phone call. It was him. Could I come and see him at his office please? He had something to show me.
Could I come? I know how it feels to have wings on your heels – I flew to his office. I could barely contain my excitement as he welcomed me to the now-quiet and empty writers department of the studio. Surely it was about the project? I scanned his beautiful, craggy face for clues.
“Is it about the script?”
”Yes it is. You better have a drink.”
This didn’t sound good. My heart sank. Without checking for preference he poured us both a whiskey. His voice was solemn.
“I’ve just had a phone call from the film board. The project was the subject of today’s meeting. They wanted me to tell you that the film’s going to get full funding. Congratulations – you’re going to direct your first feature film!!”
In an instant I was on my feet and literally jumping for joy. I remember him standing there beaming at me with pride and pleasure. I put both my arms out, palms upward in a “hug me” gesture. I sensed a hesitation but then he took me in his arms.
He was very strong and he held me tight with three or four squeezes. My face was nuzzled into his neck and I could smell his cologne. Oh my God. I have never been in a warmer, more secure more beautiful place.
I made myself totally aware of all the feelings in my body so I could keep the feeling forever – the slight scratch of his five-o’clock whiskers, the broad flatness of his chest against mine, his surprisingly firm thighs – and – could that bulge really be his cock against my belly?
It was summer and he wore sneakers, jeans and a light sweat shirt. I was imprinting the memory of my palms against his back.
I knew that at any moment we would have to break the embrace and sure enough I felt his muscles relax and his hands go to my shoulders. I held him tight.
He relaxed completely and stopped any semblance of a hug. A wave of embarrassment engulfed me, yet still I held him tight. I buried my burning face into his neck and inhaled the heady scent of his body.
He stood still and unresponsive and I dared not let him go.
Then – a miracle.
His strong arms returned to hold me. Only this time his hands found there way under my shirt. I felt his palms as they roughly toured the skin of my back. Then one of his hands was in my hair and my head was pulled back to expose my throat to him. His hot breath burned on my flesh as he kissed his way up my throat to my chin before claiming my mouth in a passionate, animal kiss.
Some long suppressed volcano had erupted.
He tore at my shirt and I tore at the button of his jeans. Lips mashed cruelly on lips, broke to allow desperate arms to fling aside shirts and then crushed together again.
He grappled in desperation at the belt of my slacks but to no avail. In the pause while I undid the buckle, he cleared the top of his desk with one sweep of his arm. He got both hands on the waistband of my trousers and roughly stripped them along with my shoes. I was naked and perched on the edge of his desk. He stepped back to shuck his jeans and quickly stepped back between my legs.
Now I felt the stiff prod of his cock as it bounced against mine. I pushed back on his shoulders to clear some space between us.
“I want to see it,” I said.
God it was beautiful. Jetting out from a thick thatch of wiry black hair with its big plummy head clear of the rollneck foreskin, it made my knees turn to water. I bent forward to suck it. He arced over me and kissed the middle of my back as he stroked my moist arsehole.
It was a cramped and awkward position and he only allowed two sucks before he pushed me back onto the desk and heaved my calves onto his shoulders
He positioned his cockhead right at my hole, tweaked and rolled my nipples in his strong fingers and kissed my hungry mouth with animal passion. I thought to brace myself against the thrust of his cock but it never came. He kissed me. He kissed me with his tongue invading the recesses of my mouth. He kissed me while sucking my tongue into his own warm sweet mouth. He pressed the warm insides of his lips on mine. He kissed me until there was nothing in the world but his mouth on mine and I abandoned myself to the pure steady waves of pleasure.
The waves of pleasure slowly became a rhythm, a gentle rolling motion and I became aware of skin on skin and a warm burgeoning aura arose from my hungry butt.
Somehow the whole of his beautiful big cock had engulfed itself up my arse.
His face was millimetres from mine. Sweat dripped from his nose and onto me.
Wave upon wave of warmth became rolling heat flaming up from my stuffed arse through my belly to my burning nipples as he rode me.
The first spasm of my orgasm shuddered through my balls and streaked my chest with a long white ribbon of cum. He cleared a space between our bellies so we could both watch. I shot again – a globule hit my face then a pearl flood poured from the glossy spastic head.
The he started to cum. His steady, controlled rhythm broke into urgent erratic and violent shoves. He arched his back, threw back his head and slammed his fat cock violently against my bum. Ah-Ah – Ahhh – Aaahhhhh – AAAAAAgggggghhhhh…
He slumped forward and his big cock tumbled from my bum with a rush. He slumped even further until his face was nestled in the pool of cum at my crotch. He kissed and snuffled at my balls while he got his breath.
He said something I didn’t hear.
“What was that?”
He gathered himself and stood upright. He put a hand either side of my face and pulled me up to him. He gave me a long, tender soulful kiss on the mouth.
“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we met,” he said.
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