Sunday, February 26, 2012

Movie Stars Aren't Always What They're Cracked Up To Be

Finally, I get to write a sex scene.  It's been a while, so I hope I nailed it.  I kid a little, but they're really hard to write.  And it's not about the actual actions; it's about the transitions from, say, foreplay to the act itself.  Or position changes.  That's what I struggle with, at least.  Maybe others don't find it so difficult.

But I've been wanting to try to integrate a meaningful character realization into a sex scene for a while.  Sometimes, I've been successful, but other times, it's felt like sex for sex's sake.  I hope this feels a little more meaningful than that, though.



Movie Stars Aren't Always What They're Cracked Up To Be

The first time I met my soul mate, I barely even noticed him.  I know, we all want to believe in love at first sight, and maybe it exists, but love is more than just a feeling you get when you first meet someone.  It's bigger than that.  It's lasting...

I'm not really good at explaining these things, but I think people confuse lust with love a lot of the time.  But when that lust turns into something deeper, they remember it as love at first sight.  It doesn't matter that they have felt the exact same thing dozens of times before, and it never went any further.  No, we don't remember those.  We remember that one time where it all worked out.

I guess this is a long way of saying that I don't really believe in love at first sight anymore.  Once, I thought I did.  I would have sworn that I had felt it before.  But I don't feel the need to romanticize the first time I meet someone anymore.  Maybe I've grown up.  Or maybe I'm just more cynical now.  I don't know.

Anyway, when I first met Harry, he didn't really catch my eye.  I was a little caught up in being me, and...well, I only had eyes for a certain type of person.  You know the type:  the dominant ones.  The strong ones.  The people who, when you look at them, you swoon a little.  And Harry's not really any of those things.

I mean, he's strong in his own way.  And he can be dominant when he needs to be.  And now, I do get that feeling every time I look at him.  But at first glance, he's not really anything like that.  In fact, when you first meet him, he's kind of the opposite.

It was only a few months after the show had finished airing, and I was riding high.  Each time I looked in the mirror, I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was absolutely gorgeous.  Before the show, I was a pretty boy.  I didn't really wear makeup (sometimes I did, but just a little).  I didn't wear my hair in a particularly feminine fashion.  And there were traces -- barely visible -- of the fact that I was a boy.

But by the time I finished the show, that had all changed.  My face had softened a little (don't ask me how -- the doctor said it had something to do with fat distribution), and I had started to wear makeup.  And I'd completely embraced feminine hairstyles.  Then there was my body...I'm not one to toot my own horn, but I have a great body -- a female body.   It's like my body was a blank canvas, and the hormones were the paint. 

And that gave me confidence.  I knew that when women looked at me, they were jealous.  And when men looked at me, they wanted me.  I'm a little ashamed to say that I reveled in the attention.

So I was a beautiful celebrity, coming off of a hugely successful project.  Needless to say, I fielded offers everyday, ranging from television cameos to movies.  I'm not an actor, but they didn't care.  They wanted to cash in on my fame.

I guess I should have taken advantage of it; I mean, I was one of the few people like me who had ever become so famous or accepted.  I should have used it to launch some sort of program for boys and girls who felt like they didn't belong, that society would never accept them for who they were.  I wish I had.  In fact, maybe I still will.

But I was wrapped up in my own life at the time.  And the men...they came out of the woodwork.  Some were famous.  Some weren't.  I met them at parties.  I met them at movie premiers.  There were even some women who tried to snare my attention.  I don't know what they were thinking.  I mean, most weren't gay or anything.  Was I a woman to them, even though I still had my...you know?  Is that how society viewed me?

It doesn't matter, I guess. 

But I met Harry at a meeting; he was a young executive with a well-known movie studio, and they were pitching me a role in a movie.  It wasn't a big role, or anything -- just a few lines.  I don't even remember what it was about.  There were almost a dozen people in the room, but I only really noticed one person -- Kip Hayes.  Yes, that Kip Hayes.

He was so handsome -- he looked like he had been chiseled from marble.  And that smile...

I swear, it felt like there was no one else in the room when we locked eyes.  I wanted him.  He wanted me.  There was no doubt. 

After the meeting, he invited me back to his place.  Of course, I went.  How could I not?  He was one of the biggest movie stars in the world.  Never mind that he was the epitome of male sexuality.  I couldn't even being to say no.

When we got back to his place, he started to ask if I wanted a drink, but I didn't hesitate.  I practically attacked him.  He tasted like a man ought to taste.  He smelled like a man should smell.  And he felt...well, you get the picture.

He practically ripped my dress off, and I could see it in his eyes.  I was everything he hoped I would be.  And that felt good.  We all want to be wanted, I guess.

His tongue on my nipple.  The gentle kisses along my bare tummy.  The feel of my panties sliding down my legs.  And then, his mouth enveloping my penis, tonguing it, kissing it.  My manicured hand found the back of his head, buried in a tangle of curly hair.  Ecstasy.  I leaned my head back, and let out a moan. 

When he came up for air, I looked down at his handsome, rugged face.  A trail of saliva ran from his mouth to my semi-erect penis.  And I smiled. 

It wasn't long before I was lying on his couch, my legs spread as he knelt between them. HIs fingers were buried in my anus as he dutifully licked and sucked. 

But I wanted more than a finger or two inside of me. 

Did I expect Kip Hayes to have a small penis?  No, not at all.  I guess that's why he was so good at oral sex; he had to make up for it somehow.  But when I got on my knees, and pulled his pants down...let's just say that he was a bit under-endowed.  He wasn't tiny, but I would definitely put him in the below average category. 

I tried not to let my disappointment show.  And as I bent over, and he entered me, I acted my heart out.  I screamed and I moaned.  But I didn't mean any of it.

You have to understand; up until that point, I had been mostly with porn stars.  And so, I was used to a certain size.  And Kip...well, Kip just wasn't up to the task.

Looking back, I know I went home with the wrong person that day.  I should have noticed the way Harry looked at me in the meeting.  I should have seen him trying to work up the courage to talk to me.  But that would come later, I guess.

1 comment:

  1. Another great chapter of this story. The amazing thing is this character sounds all too real even in the context of a story that obviously is fiction. Very well done Nikki!

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