Entertaining The Troupes Ch. 01
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I started as a gopher, sixteen years old with my entire life until that point spent within the, not too strict, confines of St. Barnabus’ orphanage. It was Miss Fylde, who worked there as a drama and art teacher, that arranged the interview with the theatre manager. He told me years later that I got the job because of the expression on my face as he showed me around the place before the interview began. I was entranced by the magic, instantly addicted to the aura of the theatre.
This story begins at the end of the Easter term when Mrs. Weston, the orphanage secretary, drove me the thirty miles from the only place that I’d ever lived and moved me into an attic room at the hotel next door to the theatre. There were eight theatre staff living on the same floor with two bathrooms for us to share and three meals a day provided in the hotel canteen. Mr. Lawton, who was the stage manager at the Prince of Wales Theatre, explained that my wages would be docked the cost of my bed and board until I found my own lodgings, something that I couldn’t do until I was eighteen and old enough to sign a tenancy agreement.
Each Friday afternoon I was given a little brown envelope that contained the remainder of my wages and a little white wage slip. More money even then than I knew what to do with, I saved the larger part of it because I didn’t even know what I could spend it on. We received no pocket money at the orphanage and with it being twelve miles out over the moors from anyplace significant enough to warrant a shop, I’d only spent money twice or maybe three times in my life previously.
For the first year I seemed to be so tired at the end of each day as I learned to shift scenery, make props, deliver messages, fetch teas and drinks from the bar… that I would eat my dinner and retire to that tiny room, happy to read scripts from the huge cupboard outside the props room. In the orphanage there’d not been a real shortage of reading material, just a lack of anything even vaguely exciting. Plays about spies and murders and kings, vaudeville skits and dialogues – I thought that I’d landed in heaven.
I made a friend in my second year; Robert was the kitchen porter at the hotel, he lived in the attic over the other wing of the hotel where the hotel staff lived. He went home for his two days off each week and although I was five months older than him, he was the picture of cosmopolitan elegance next to me. It was he who showed me where to buy my first non-hand me down clothes and shoes. It was he who showed me the pie shop down at the bottom of Weald Street, whose wares were so filled to the brim with steak and kidney in a thick gravy that it was only possible to eat them, without covering yourself in their contents, by leaning forwards from the waist at an odd angle.
He showed me the parks where we could find ball games to join in on our afternoons off and the posh crescents lined with trees where the rich people lived.
I gradually lost my shyness, and the people who were teaching me realised that I was learning and that if they left me to get on with things they would get done. I was, I suppose, becoming an addition to the team rather than an extra task for its members. I learned all of the names of the thirty-six people employed either as full or part time staff and all of them seemed to know mine…
Gradually I became so immersed in the theatrical life that it was difficult for me to think of myself anywhere else. My second and third years passed in a blur of new experiences, I even took a four day holiday during my third winter. I thought that nothing could get better.
The adventure changed tack and pushed me in a new direction the day that Samantha-Jane, one of the young women from the ticket office walked into my room by accident as I was looking for the other one in a pair of socks. I was naked because I’d just had a bath and was about to get into my pyjamas when I realised that there was only one sock in the pile of clothes that I’d readied for the morning. I had my head under the metal bedstead as I heard the door swing open. I momentarily forgot that I was naked Dikmen Escort and stood to see who it was. There were a million questions coursing through my thoughts as I stared in bewilderment , a picture of not-understanding, then I realised that I wasn’t the only one who was staring. That’s when I remembered that I had no clothing on. Instantly I bent double trying to cover myself with one hand whilst reaching vainly towards the bed for something to hide behind.
“What are you doing in my room?”
My mouth only opened and shut, goldfish like – nothing like a reply came forth. She was about to speak again when she noticed the number on the still open door.
“Hold on… this isn’t my room. Oops, sorry.”
For some reason her apology made me straighten up and in confusion I reached towards the door as if to see her out. I took a step forward but she didn’t turn away, once again her she was staring… down. I tried to think about what she might be looking so intently at when I remembered again that I was naked and became acutely aware of exactly what it was.
“Take your hand away, let me see it… how old are you? It’s…” She looked back at my face, “Mickey isn’t it?”
I found my voice, “Eighteen and yes that’s my name… may I cover myself now?”
“Has anybody else here seen that,” she waved her hand in the direction of my groin. When I shook my head her expression changed and she reached behind her back and pushed the door shut.
I couldn’t think what she was doing as her hands remained out of sight behind her and it came as a complete surprise when her skirt fell to the floor and she started to lift her sweater over her head. Her voice was slightly muffled as she spoke again.
“Are you a virgin?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what one was. In another second her sweater and top followed her skirt onto the carpeted floor and she was stepping out of the ring of her skirt, as she reached down for the laces on her ankle boots, she looked up at me. My face must have betrayed my confusion to her and she laughed.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
Again I shook my head.
“Mmm… I’ve never had the opportunity to take someone’s cherry before… yummy.”
She was there naked in front of me, just a pair of pop socks and a smile.
“I’m going to teach you how to do it right young man; when we’re done… you will be quite the town Don Juan.”
I hadn’t a clue over what she was talking about, but the sight of her there looking me up and down and rubbing her hands together was definitely the motivation behind the rush of blood to my groin. She noticed and clapped her hands together in glee.
“Ooh! So you like what you see then, do you?”
I couldn’t answer; my throat was dryer than the Namib Desert, words and thoughts were rushing round in conflicting circles in my mind – I felt at the time that it was evidence of supreme effort when I nodded my head in response. I was eighteen and freshly fallen snow was never so virginal; my dick was taking control of all systems and between it and my brain … well they hadn’t really had time during the two minute power changeover to agree on any form of communication. So my penis was yelling orders in a language that my mind couldn’t comprehend.
I looked up from my study of the light downy covering of hair over her pubis as she stepped forward until we were close enough for her to grasp my cock in both of her hands. They felt like an air-conditioned version of heaven. Her cool grip against the heat that was emanating from my, now rock solid, erection was a contrast that seemed to draw even more blood from my brain to the region of my balls. She looked up at me, without letting go.
“Do you play with yourself?”
I must have looked confused because she continued, “Jerk-off? Wank? Masturbate?”
Another keen look, this time ending in a close examination of my eyes made her ask, “What did they tell you in the orphanage?”
“That if I touched it… it would fall off.”
She stood on tiptoe Eryaman Escort and gently kissed me on my lips. “Well you’ve got a lot to learn then… and the first lesson is that not everything that you learned at that place was really true. Did they teach you where babies came from?”
Her hands were gently pulling upwards on my dick, slowly one after the other.
“From ladies’ tummies?”
“That’s right and did they tell you how they got there?” One hand started to rub up and down a little more insistently while the other gently massaged my balls.
“The stork puts them there after a lady gets married.”
Once again a few moments of silence while she searched my eyes, her expression softened once again as she came to some inner decision.
“Get on the bed young man… this is probably going to take some time.”
The first time that I ever came was a few minutes later in the warm and welcoming confines of her mouth.
It frightened me a little, that first orgasm. I’d a few moments earlier discovered that if a stack of scripts was heaven then there seemed to be another level of places somewhat better than that… and they’d not got around to mentioning them at the orphanage at all.
I lay back resting on my elbows as she got onto the bed on her knees – if I’d been given a thousand guesses at what the next delicious thing she was going to do to me, putting my whizzer in her mouth and sucking on it wouldn’t have been anywhere on the list.
She held my dick away from my body, leaned forward and just slipped it through the ring of her lips. Her teeth dragged against the delicate surface of its bell-end… and then she looked up at me as she drew me deeper beyond her mouth and into her throat. She bobbed up and down a few times, sucking on the way in and dragging her teeth on the way out.
I was almost delirious with the fantastic build-up of feelings. My buttocks kept clenching as my balls tightened; when I started to come… I didn’t know what was going on… it didn’t feel like I was pissing and yet something down there was definitely leaving by the same exit. Peeing had never been that good; I could feel shivers running from my point of contact with her lips and teeth through my cock to the tips of my toes and the top of my head. As she kept up the pressure from her teeth and the suction along the length of my fresh meat I pumped it out again and again, and she just kept on swallowing, her eyes never leaving mine.
“And now I’ll teach you how to make me come. Move over… there’s enough room on there for both of us.”
She lay flat on her back before taking one of my hands and moving it down to the junction of her thighs.
“Gently but firmly is as good a rule of thumb as you can get when dealing with a girls’ pussy… that’s it. Now get onto your knees so that you can see what you’re doing. This is my pussy and if you treat it well it will show you a really good time… much better than anything that my mouth can do.”
As I watched she spread her nether lips and showed me the shining pinkness of her cunt. I leant forward and the smell of her excitement wafted to my nostrils – instantly I was hooked.
“And at the top, here, is what is sometimes referred to as the ‘panic button’ but is actually called a clit and if you want to be an extra specially attractive proposition for us girls then you’ve got to get to know how one of them is best treated. I like mine to be gently stroked, but even better than that I like it to be licked and tickled with a tongue and sometimes, when I need to be fucked hard from behind me, a sharp slap or three has a very desirable effect.”
That was all the invitation that I required to lean right in and take my first taste of something that I have carried on a lifetime’s love affair with ever since. It was tart and honey, backed up by the tang of her sweat, the downy hairs slightly tickled my face as I dipped my tongue toward the little nubbin that had been brought out in the open from behind its covering. Gently but firmly… Esat Escort I replayed her instructions as I licked that protruding button with a fervour bordering on religious devotion.
She held her labia apart and there lay the aura of bright pinkness leading into the darkness of her cunt.
“Lick it… that’s right… now make your tongue hard and push it in and out of me… yes… that’s nice, very nice. Back to my clit again… rub it , flick it with your tongue and back to fucking my pussy with it… ooh yes! That’s very, very nice… you’re going to make me come… more, more… faster, harder!”
The next thing she was thrusting her pussy into my face and pulling my head into more constant contact with her at the same time; a few seconds longer and her thighs clamped my head to her. Clamped hard then released, clamped and released… and then she came. Her pussy twitched around my tongue, dilated and shrunk around my intrusion before, slowly at first, she gradually flooded my mouth with the bittersweet product of her orgasm.
I just kept up with her instructions and she just kept on coming. Her thighs loosened their grip on the sides of my head and she stopped forcing my mouth onto her. Now it seemed as if her pussy was trying to get away from my burrowing tongue but my mattress was preventing any real retreat. I was holding her lips apart and rapidly stabbing my tongue in and out of her, my mouth open wide enough for my top teeth to be scraping back and forth across her clit as I tried to reach even further into her pussy.
I would have been happy to have stayed like that forever. But I became aware that one of her hands was flapping against the top of my head… I stopped to try and work out what she was signalling, drew back my head and looked up at her.
“Enough, enough… I surrender!”
Her voice was strained and quiet. I drew myself up onto my knees and she pulled me forward, to lay supine on top of her before seeking my mouth with hers for a firstly gentle and then more pressing series of kisses that gradually became so heated that we were wrestling tongues and squirming against each other’s naked forms.
We stopped to take breath and she pushed me off her and to one side.
“You keep that up, young man, and there’ll be a queue running twice round the entire block for your services.”
The compliment was easily the nicest thing that anyone had ever said to me.
“But for now I’m keeping the secret of you to myself… I think that it’s time to show you how a girl likes to get fucked.”
She glanced down between us.
“I can see that you’re ready for the next lesson. Lay on your back… my pussy is going to take a little training to get used to having something that big inside it! But there’s time enough another evening for a brutal fuck; for now we’ll take it easy with me doing the work for a while… and then you can pound my insides to a mush when you hump my brains out.”
She knelt astride my waist before reaching down between her thighs for my dick… another moment later and I was discovering another entire plateau of pleasure. For a few seconds she just rubbed my bell-end, leaking precum like a faulty faucet, along the length of her slit before she started to feed my manhood into the confines of her cunt. She put both hands, palms down, on my chest and gradually, little by little lowered herself.
Her eyes closed and her face took on a sneer, beads of sweat formed on her upper lip and in a jagged line across the top of her brow. It took minutes of rising and falling until the hairs on our groins met. She held herself there, shaking slightly and twitching as if she was suffering occasional electric shocks. Once, twice, three times she rose and fell before succumbing to another orgasm.
As it subsided, she fell forward against me and pushed her legs down until they were either side of mine. It took but a second of unspoken communication for her to show that she wanted us to roll over so that I was on top.
“Push it in and out; go slowly at first… that’s it… build up your speed gradually, until you’re putting it to me hard and fast.”
What else could I do but as she asked? My second orgasm caused the air to ripple as in a heat haze and took my breath away… and hers, too.
… To be continued…
Edited with extra pizzazz and her usual endowment of talent and innate gorgeousness by Hotti… thank you
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