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My Night With Lara Flynn Boyle

By: just a thing



If there had been anyone else in that splendid hallway with us – anybody at all, going in either direction – I would have been tipped off and could have made my escape. But the three of us walked down the corridor alone. When Shane and Kathleen came to the open double-doors on our left, they both stopped suddenly in front of me, blocking the entrance to the main ballroom. Staring inside, Shane said, “Uh oh.” Kathleen turned and looked at me and made a face that was half-smile and half-grimace. 

Bland Motown music and the buzz of hundreds of conversations came drifting out the door as Shane said, “Jesus, I’m sorry, man. I honestly didn’t think it was absolutely required…”

“Oh, crap. What’s wrong?” I pushed between them and looked inside. Five hundred people filled the ballroom. Every woman was dressed in either a black or a white evening gown, and every man was dressed in a tuxedo.

Kathleen hugged my arm to her breast. “It’ll be fine. You’re still more handsome than ninety-nine percent of the men in there.”

“And I’m sure that’s what everyone will say: ‘Did you see that handsome man?’ ‘Which one?’ ‘The one who showed up at the Black-and-White Ball wearing blue jeans and a navy sports jacket.’ ‘Oh, you mean the handsome asshole! Yes, everybody saw him. He’s the talk of the ball.’ ‘How did he get in dressed like that?’ ‘Shane and Kathleen brought him.’ I promise both of you,” I said, “I’m not going through this embarrassment alone. Before I leave here tonight, everyone will know that I came with you.” 

The three of us stepped inside the crowded ballroom and looked around. Everybody sitting at the tables was wearing either black or white; everybody milling around the room was wearing either black or white; everybody standing at the bar was wearing either black or white. 

I took a step backwards, but Kathleen tightened her grip on my arm. “Don’t go. Please don’t go. You spend too many nights at home alone as it is.”

“Look around, Kathleen. I’m as out of place here as the Cubs at the World Series.”

Shane poked me in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “Look! You’re not the only one,” he said pointing to the dance floor. 

At first all I saw were dancers dressed in black and white (and only a quarter of them actually moving in time with the music). But then one couple drifted to the right. A woman wearing a bright red gown that sparkled with every move she made danced as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 

“Well, that certainly makes a world a difference. I feel completely at ease now.”

Kathleen tugged her husband’s sleeve. “Go ask the people working the coat room if they have a spare tuxedo or if there’s a men’s store nearby.” 

As Shane took off, Kathleen said, “Not to worry. As long as I’m on your arm, no one will even notice you.” Still holding fast to me, she guided us towards the bar. “Let’s get something to drink.”

Sure enough, as we made our way through the crowd, people gave me quick, fleeting glances and gave Kathleen long, admiring stares.

Halfway to the bar, a woman’s voice behind us called out, “Kathleen!”

We both turned around and when Kathleen saw who called her, she squealed in delight. The woman would have been attractive if her hair had been only one color. But I counted at least seven shades of red, brown, and black. 

“Kathleen! Remember Susan Kelly?” Rainbow Head asked, her eyes intense with excitement. “She’s here! And she says she’s looking to invest in a romantic comedy!”

Kathleen’s mouth dropped half open for a moment and then they both screamed again. 

Rainbow Head grabbed Kathleen by both wrists. “Come on! I’ve been singing your praises to her for almost an hour!”

Kathleen allowed herself to be dragged away. I looked at the door but Kathleen yelled back at me, “Don’t you dare leave! I’ll meet you at the bar in fifteen minutes.” Then she disappeared into the crowd.

I debated with myself: the door or the bar. I wanted the door, but if I did that, I would be getting grief for at least a month. So I made my way to the bar, twisting and turning this way and that through a sea of black and white saying, “Excuse me” or “Pardon me” again and again. And without Kathleen to distract everyone, I was attracting everyone’s stares. And there was nothing admiring about them. 

A solid wall of black and white surrounded the bar so I staked out a quiet stretch of wall beside a potted palm tree. I checked my watch: 10:14. Kathleen’s fifteen minutes would be up at 10:29.

As far out of the way as I was (not to mention being almost under the tree), I still drew smirks and amused shakes of the head from people. After the sixth person did a double take in my direction, I closed my eyes and promised myself that I would keep them closed until 10:29 had come and gone.

A few minutes later, I heard someone at the bar say, “There’s no smoking in here, Miss Boyle.”

Fifteen feet to my right, the woman in the shimmering red dress stood at the bar, frozen in mid-movement holding an unlit cigarette like it was a microphone halfway to her mouth. A dozen men and women watched in amusement as the tiny wisp of a woman stared down the hulking bartender (who was wearing a black and white uniform, of course). She looked at him as if maybe the poor guy had lost his mind for a moment, then she smiled a smile of genuine amusement. 

She snapped to life and put the cigarette between her lips, handed a gold lighter to the bartender, and then waited. And all the while she never stopped looking him right in the eyes or smiling that amused smile. For several moments the bartender stood motionless, staring at her, apparently trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. He looked around and saw everyone watching and smiling and laughing and waiting to see how he would handle the situation. So he lit the lighter and offered her a light. The woman in red leaned forward and her cheeks hollowed as the tip of her cigarette caught the flame and glowed bright orange for a moment before sending a trail of smoke drifting towards the ceiling. She took her lighter back with one hand, removed the cigarette from her lips with the other, and still smiling, mouthed the word, “Thanks.” 

She turned her back to the bar, and with smoke wafting from her half-open mouth, scanned the room until she was looking in my direction. For a moment, I thought she was looking right at me. She looked familiar – but unexpectedly small. Just then, a man in tuxedo stepped in her line of sight, and tried to strike up a conversation with her. 

I checked my watch: 10:18. Just before closing my eyes once more, I glanced at the bar and saw her peer around the guy talking to her. And this time she did look directly at me. 

She looked at me. And then she smiled at me. And then she winked at me. 

My heart jumped and I tried to look away. But I couldn’t; her eyes wouldn’t let me. Maybe because of the lack of color everywhere else in the room, or maybe because they stood out in contrast to her bright red dress, but the very blueness of her eyes acted like a magnet. She continued to stare and smile at me as she turned her head slightly to the side and upward and blew a plume of smoke above the heads of everyone else around her.

When she turned back to the bar I was able to look away. I leaned back against the wall once again, closed my eyes, and her name popped into my head. I thought as small as she was on television, in real life she was even smaller.

A few seconds later, someone very close to me asked, “Don’t you know why this is called a Black-and-White Ball?” I opened my eyes. There she stood, looking up at me, giving me her best TV star smile. “Hi, I’m Lara,” she said, offering her hand. 

I shook her hand, my mind freezing up at seeing a celebrity being a flesh-and-blood person right in front of me. Her complexion was so fair it bordered on being pale. An explosion of lightly colored freckles that I had never seen on her on television covered her face, shoulders, arms and chest. Her eyebrows looked expertly sculpted above those blue eyes that seemed to command me not to look away. I let go of her hand, but she held onto mine – her grip startlingly warm and strong.

“You were staring,” she said in a voice deeper and raspier than it sounds on TV. I glanced at the glass of whiskey and the lit cigarette in her left hand.

“I was. I apologize. It’s just that I was rather taken by the sight of you.”

She burst out laughing – a sound of genuine delight. “You’re blushing! Oh, God, that’s adorable!” As she laughed, I smelled the tobacco and alcohol on her breath. The smell was a little unpleasant, but it drove home the idea that this was not an image on a TV screen in front of me but a real flesh-and-blood woman.

She still held my right hand. “Hold this,” she said, handing me her drink. 

She studied my right hand, caressing it with her left thumb. The smoke drifting up from her cigarette stung my eyes. “You have small hands. I like small hands.” She lifted the cuff of my shirt and looked up my sleeve. 

As she studied at my hand I was able to steal a close look at her. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and reflected the lights overhead. At least a hundred freckles dotted the tops of her shoulders and appeared to go down her back. She wore small, gold earrings with red stones in them and, on her left wrist, a gold watch with a band as slender and delicate as herself. Her perfume smelled of fresh water.

“A guy who blushes. There’s no way you’re in the industry. How did you get in here?”

“A couple friends dragged me along. They’re producers.”

She let go of my hand and said, “Give me the other one.” I gave her my left hand and again she examined and stroked it, front and back, and then lifted the shirt cuff to look up my sleeve. “Pushy producers? Who ever heard of such a thing? Next you’ll be telling me actors are self-centered.” 

She took her drink back, held open the collar of my shirt and looked at my neck. 

Then she held my chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned my head all the way to the left and then all the way to the right.

“No jewelry,” she said. “Good. I can’t stand men who wear jewelry.”

She stepped back and stared at me tilting her head to the right and nibbling at the inside of her right cheek. She put her cigarette between her lips and when she took her drag, she moved her hand six or eight inches away from it, parting her fingers wide: a showy way of smoking – smoking with a flourish.

“Wallflower, you look like you’d be more comfortable almost any place else in the world. Why don’t the two of us get lost together?” Without waiting for an answer, she threw back the last of her drink, set the empty glass on the edge of the pot the palm tree sat in, took me by the arm, and steered me to the door.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Kathleen and Rainbow Head sitting at a table with another woman, all three of them talking and laughing together, unaware of everyone else in the room. 

As small and delicate as Lara’s hand looked, her grip was firm and confident. Anyone looking at us would think I was escorting Lara. I looked at the door only a hundred feet away and saw it as an entrance to a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And I just knew Shane was about to come walking through that door carrying a rented tux.

I looked around and saw we were the center of attention for just about everyone in our immediate vicinity. Men and women decked out in their finest formal wear had turned to look at the TV star and the stranger. Some of them were pointing at us, most of them were whispering and smiling to each other. I felt more out of place than ever: the pauper in his jeans with the princess in her designer gown. 

I heard whispers on either side of us. “… the woman from The Practice.” “…thin.” “Is he anybody?” “I didn’t know she was so small.” “… no smoking – unless you’re a celebrity.” “…prettier in person…” “… moron … jeans!” Maybe Lara was unaware we were being stared at or maybe she was aware of it and she just didn’t care. Either way, she paid no attention at all to any of the whispers or stares or pointing.

We were thirty feet from the door when an enormous woman of about sixty stepped in front of us. She wore a light blue gown and around her neck she wore enough diamonds to fill a small ice cube tray. 

“Lara! You’re not leaving already?” She spoke to Lara but she was staring at me.

“We are, Liz.” Lara said in a “just between us girls” tone of voice as her fingernails suddenly dug hard into my bicep. “Given the choice between spending two or three hours making industry small talk or spending two or three hours getting laid, well…” Lara shrugged, making a gesture that said, “It’s an easy choice,” and brought her cigarette to her lips.

“And this is the lucky man?” She stuck out her hand to me. “I’m Elizabeth Ganders, it’s nice to meet you.”

I shook Elizabeth’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m…” My right hand and arm were suddenly filled with pins and needles as Lara jammed her thumbnail deep into my upper arm. She must have caught a nerve between my arm bone and her nail because the pins and needles were quickly being replaced by numbness. 

I looked at Lara and saw her nonchalantly turn her head and exhale a long stream of smoke. The smell caused a man and woman to turn towards her. The woman looked at the cigarette and then back at Lara. Lara smiled sweetly at them before looking back at me, waiting for me to make some excuse to get us out of there.

“Elizabeth, I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s not often a TV star shows an interest in me, and I really want to get Lara out of here before she comes to her senses. I hope you understand.”

The pain from Lara’s fingernails was replaced by a gentle squeeze of approval. 

“We’ll dish tomorrow, Liz,” Lara said. “You’ll get all the dirt here for me?”

“Of course. Go have fun.” Elizabeth turned to me and said, “It was nice meeting you, whoever you are.”

And then we were walking out the door.

Outside, Lara flicked her cigarette away as a valet in a dark red jacket almost sprinted up to us. He stood in front of me with his hand out. Lara let go of my arm (causing my heart to sink just a bit) to open her purse, and the valet gave me a quick look that said, “The woman has the stub? What’s wrong with you?” He took an exaggerated step to his left to stand in front of Lara, gave me another suspicious look, and then turned his attention to her. As she looked in her purse, the valet made no attempt to be subtle as he thoroughly examined her face, neck, and cleavage. Lara handed him the stub and he ran off.

“Did that excite you? Watching him check me out like that?”

“I admit I liked it. I didn’t like that he did it so openly.”

“What about them?” Twenty feet away, four more valets in dark red jackets were talking amongst themselves and staring at Lara.

Staring at them, I put my arm around Lara’s waist and pulled her close to me. The warmth from her hip seeped through the leg of my jeans and into the top of my thigh.

Lara gave a short moan of approval sound and leaned against me.

A few moments later, a black Porsche pulled to a stop in front of us. The tinted windows made it impossible to see inside. My favorite valet hopped out of the car, leaving the driver’s door open.

As Lara started to walk around the front of the car she handed the valet a twenty. He reached for it, but I was faster, and I snatched the bill from her hand. “He already got his tip, “ I said, making Lara bark a delighted laugh.

When she got in behind the wheel, the valet said something to me in Spanish. He took a step forward with his chest out. But when I wouldn’t back up, a look of uncertainty passed over his face. The passenger door of the Porsche popped open, and I climbed in.

I hadn’t even closed the door before Lara threw the car in gear and we were screeching away. I had time for only a quick glance in the side view mirror and for a fraction of a second saw the valet, shrinking into the distance, grabbing his crotch and giving me the finger.

Settling back, the seat seemed to mold itself around me. The interior of the car was as black as the exterior and the heavily tinted windows blocked most of the light from getting in. If not for the night coming in through the windshield and the blue-green lights of the dashboard, we would have been sitting in total darkness. “It feels like we’re almost invisible to the outside world.” 

“I know,” she said, smiling. In the dimness, I saw that Lara had hiked the bottom of her gown up to her mid-thighs so she could get her legs far enough apart to work the clutch. “You’re first time in a Porsche?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What do you think?”

“Wow.”

Lara chuckled. “Yeah, that was my first reaction, too.”

Three hundred feet in front of us, the traffic light changed from green to yellow, and I felt my head press back into the headrest. The numbers on the digital speedometer rocketed upwards from the lows 20’s. When they got to the mid-50s, it took Lara only a second to lift one foot from the gas, step on the clutch with the other, push the stick shift up and to the right into third gear (using only the middle finger of her right hand), let go of the clutch and step on the gas once more. My head pushed back even harder onto the headrest as the Porsche surged forward. I watched the half-dozen cars on each side of the cross street waited for their red light to turn green. The lead car on our right, anticipating the green light, inched into the intersection, starting to block our lane.

A hundred feet from the intersection, the yellow light facing us turned red as the Porsche’s speedometer raced past 90-mph. Lara’s feet and fingers danced on the pedals and the stick shift once more as the cars on both sides of the cross street started forward, and my stomach dropped. When we were ten feet from the crosswalk, the lead car on our right rolled into our lane, and Lara flicked the steering wheel four inches to the left and immediately back again to get us around him as we shot through the intersection at 101 mph and disappeared into the night, a dozen blaring car horns fading in the distance.

All of a sudden, I could hear Lara’s breathing – the result of the adrenaline rush – and we dropped down to 80 mph. “So, wallflower, why did your producer friends drag you to the ball?” 

“They worry about me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t date much.”

“How much?”

“Enough that I haven’t had a girlfriend in five years.”

“Why is that?” she asked in a tone that demanded an answer. Now.

Before I could say a word, she stomped on the brake so hard the tires locked and squealed. I was thrown forward hard enough that my forehead touched the dashboard. The back end of the car skidded so far to the left I thought we would spin completely around. The numbers on the speedometer plummeted to 17. Lara jerked the steering wheel to the right.

We raced down a quiet side street for a quarter mile before Lara pulled the car to the curb, and we screeched to a stop underneath a streetlight. In a flash, Lara was out the door, hurrying around the back of the car.

I reached for the handle to open my door, but before I could touch it, Lara jerked the door open herself.

“Get out of the car!”

Lara reached in, grabbed me by my jacket, and pulled me out. She shoved me back against the car, put her left forearm across the middle of my chest, and leaned against me hard enough that the edge of the car’s roof dug into my spine. Her jaws muscles clenched and unclenched again and again and her breathing came loud and fast. “Is there something wrong with you?” she demanded.

The change in her mood was so sudden and so sharp, I was too rattled to make sense of what was happening. All I could do was stand there, gawking at her. 

“Do you have a disease?” she yelled loud enough to make me wonder if people in the homes across the street could hear her.


My Night With Lara Flynn Boyle



Before I could answer, she grabbed the front of my shirt and yanked it to the side. I heard buttons dancing on the sidewalk.

“How could I? I’ve been alone for five years.”

“Show me your arms!” She was in no mood to wait for me to take my jacket and shirt off myself. She pulled at my jacket, hard and fast, spinning me around, and got it off without tearing it. She flung it behind her into the darkness. Her hands flew at me again and the rip of tearing cloth came from near my left shoulder.

Her mouth was a grim straight line as she wrenched the shirt to the left causing the sleeve to race down my left arm, stopping only for a split-second before the button at the cuff gave way and went clattering away into the night.

Lara grabbed the right side of the collar and yanked it towards the ground. Another tearing sound—a long one this time—and then I was standing in front of her bare-chested. She grabbed my right arm and twisted it hard so that the crook of my elbow was pointed towards a streetlight. She ran a thumb over the crook in my elbow studying it carefully. She twisted my arm this way and that carefully examining every inch of skin.

She held out her hand to me. “Give me your other arm.” Her voice had softened a bit. I held out my left arm and she examined it every bit as closely as my right, but gentler this time. When she was satisfied that there was nothing to be found, she released me.

“Have you ever been with a prostitute?”

“No.”

“Ever been with a man? Given a blowjob? Get fucked in the ass?”

“No.”

She took two steps back and chewed at the inside of her right cheek again, staring at me, re-evaluating me.

“Look, wallflower, I came up to you at the ball because you seemed…vulnerable. A sweet, shy guy, uncomfortably out of place.” 

“Of course, I was out of place. I—“

“A small cock. Is that it?” she demanded in a tone of voice I recognized. It was the tone she used on The Practice when cross-examining a witness: aggressive with a hint of anger. Hearing that familiar tone in real life left me momentarily paralyzed.

Lara stepped forward and started unbuckling my belt.

Her yanking at my belt snapped me out of my stupor, and we both grabbed at the top of my pants and at each other’s hands. Four hands flew this way and that at my waist and then the top of pants were open and my zipper was pulled halfway down. 

Lara drove her thumbs under the waistband of my underwear and she dropped to a squatting position, dragging my jeans and underwear all the way down to the middle of my shins (and leaving a foot-long scratch down the outside of my left thigh.)

I grabbed for the top of my pants, and by dumb luck, caught one of Lara’s wrists instead. But Lara’s other hand shot up between my legs, and her thumb and index finger closed in a tight ring just above my balls. She gave a brief but powerful squeeze and the sudden stabbing pain racing through my lower abdomen made stop struggling. 

Lara leaned against me, and I felt her breasts flatten against the bottom of my rib cage. With only the thin layer of fabric of her evening gown between us I could even feel where her nipples were pressed against me. She smiled up at me, not a mean or a cold smile, but a kind, winning smile. She had complete control of the situation again, and she was quickly calming down.

“Easy, take it easy.” Her stern cross-examining voice was gone, replaced by a calm, soothing tone. “Wallflower, let go of my wrist?” It wasn’t order; it was a request— almost a polite request.

I hesitated and her middle finger brushed against the back of my scrotum on its way to join the circle her thumb and index finger were making. Lara gently but steadily tightened her grip and stretched the stalks that connected my balls to the rest of my body. I let go of her wrist.

She pulled my balls downward, making me bend my knees until we were eye-to-eye. “Okay, finish the job,” she said, her voice low and husky.

“What job?”

“Your pants. Take them off. Your shoes and socks, too.”

“Are you kidd—“

The ring finger of her right hand joined the circle and stretched my balls farther from my body.

I kicked off my shoes and lifted my left foot high enough to pull off my sock and push my pants and underwear off. I quickly did the same thing on my right side. My bare ass pressed against the car window that was almost uncomfortably warm thanks to the Southern California summer.

“Good. Pick up your pants and throw them into the car. Behind the passenger seat.”

I squatted and picked up my pants, socks, and shoes and pushed them behind me into the car. And I did it with Lara keeping her very firm grip on me.

She leaned me back against the car once again and said “Now, let’s see this cock of yours.” She squatted down and looked at it closely. “It’s not very big.”

“Well, given the circumstances…”

She barked out a pleased “Ha-ha,” and smiled up at me. “Good point.” She kept a firm grip on me with her right hand, and with her left hand she stretched and twisted my cock, looking at it from every angle. She squeezed the head between her thumb and middle finger, pinching the pee hole open so she could look inside. “It looks clean,” she said. She put her nose flush against the head and loudly sniffed at the slit. Then she pushed the tip of her little finger into the hole and when she removed it, the tip of her finger glistened in the streetlight. She sniffed at it and then touched it the tip of her tongue. Finally, she combed through my pubic hair, examining me all the way down to my skin.

She looked up at me, gently pulling at my balls with one hand and massaging the head of my cock in the other. “Wallflower, how big does this get? And tell me the truth.”

“A little over six.”

“How thick?” Those blue eyes of hers didn’t blink once.

I shrugged. “A couple women said it’s a bit thicker than average.”

“ ‘A couple’? How many women have you been with?”

“Three.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

Her right hand tightened slightly—I think unconsciously—and she tilted her head slightly and began chewing the inside of her cheek once more. 

She stood up and again pulled me down by my balls so that we were nose-to-nose. She stared into my eyes, I guess looking for some sign that I was lying. Again I smelled her fresh-water scented perfume. 

She relaxed her grip. “I believe you, wallflower. Now, listen to me. You’re going to spend the night in my bed. You’re going to submit to whatever I want from you—or take from you—sexually. Deny me anything and you’re out the door. And tomorrow morning, both of us are going to go our separate ways with enough memories to fuel a couple years of masturbation. Is that acceptable to you?” 

I nodded.

“Good.” She let go of me. “Throw the rest of your clothes in the car and get in.”

As I stepped gingerly on the rough sidewalk with my bare feet, behind me I heard her heels clicking on the street. I snatched up my jacket and torn shirt and hopped back to the car.

Lara had the engine running before I got in, and, once more, she pulled away from the curb before I had the door closed.

I sat in the darkness, holding my clothes in my lap as we raced down the street towards another intersection and another yellow light.

There was no cross-traffic at this intersection as the light changed to red. But this time Lara slowed the car to a stop.

She punched in the dashboard lighter and, as she twisted around looking for something behind her seat, the top of her gown opened slightly and she unknowingly gave me a profile view of her small breast for several seconds. A gentle slope led down to a pink nipple. “You threw a real scare into me, wallflower. You know that? You’re thirty-two years old and you’ve only had three women?” She turned back around in her seat taking a cigarette from her purse “You mind?” 

I shook my head.

“How come? About the women, I mean.”

I shrugged and pushed my bare feet into the Porsche’s thick black carpeting. “I never got over my teen-age nervousness around women.”

“Why not? You’ve got that wholesome boy-next-door look working for you.” She looked me up and down yet again. “You look ridiculous sitting like that. Give me those.” She put the cigarette between her lips, and pulled the shirt and jacket from my lap and threw them behind my seat.

“I feel ridiculous sitting here like this.” I put my hands between my legs.

“Maybe. But you look good.” She pulled my hands away from my crotch. “Don’t hide your cock. I want to see it.” She studied my face yet again. “You’re not movie-star handsome, but you’re definitely good-looking.” 

“I’ve been told that before, but I can never make myself believe it. I always think women say that just to be polite.”

The lighter popped out and Lara lit her cigarette. The orange tip glowed fiercely for a moment pushing back enough darkness for me to see Lara was watching me in the darkness. The window beside her suddenly slid down a couple inches. 

The traffic light turned green and my head was pushed back onto the headrest once more.

As we raced along under the widely spaced streetlights, the darkness inside the car receded slightly and then re-intensified again and again, making shadows in the car grow and shrink and grow and shrink. Watching Lara in that ever-shifting light, with the smoke from her cigarette drifting past her face towards the open window, she looked like a femme fatale from an old movie. 

The smoke and Lara’s perfume mixed together creating an aroma cocktail that started blood flowing to my cock. I breathed it in deeply and felt my cock start to thicken and lengthen. 

Then the smell of acrid smoke from the tip of the cigarette was suddenly replaced with the smell of milder, exhaled smoke. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the smell. Blood continued to flow into my cock, and it began to rise a fraction of an inch every time my heart beat. 

I felt the gentle thunk of Lara downshifting and the car slowed suddenly enough to lift my back from the seat. We turned right and Lara up-shifted once again. 

“Ooh, that’s better,” she said just before I felt two fingers and the palm of her hand, cool and soft, close around the shaft of my cock. 

I opened my eyes and looked down. Lara held her cigarette between her first two fingers, held the shaft of my cock with the other two, and stroked the head of my cock with her thumb. Everything about Lara’s hand suggested femininity: delicate, slender fingers, fingernails just long enough to look ladylike and covered with clear nail polish, and a delicate gold chain around her wrist twinkled as she softly massaged me. The harsh smoke from her cigarette drifted up to my face, tempting me to inhale deeply. “This is a major improvement from five minutes ago.”

“It’s the smell,” I said.

“What smell?”

“The combination of cigarette smoke and perfume. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve thought that’s what a real WOMAN smells like. It sounds foolish, I know.”

Her TV-star smile shone in the dark. “It doesn’t sound foolish. I think the same thing, except the other way around. I don’t think it looks attractive when a woman smokes, but it looks great on a guy.”

Just then, a big drop of pre-cum pushed out through the slit in my cock. Suddenly, Lara’s thumb was slipping and sliding all over the head.

Lara looked at me, her eyes open wide in delight. She squeezed the head of my cock between her thumb and ring finger and more pre-cum slid out of my dick. She twisted the fleshy part of her thumb against the slit, scooping up the pre-cum, and lifted her thumb to see how much was there.

Keeping one eye on the road and the other eye on her thumb, Lara looked at a drop that was almost as big as a dime completely covering the end of her small thumb. It balanced there for a split-second before it started to roll off her fingertip. But before it could fall, Lara jerked her hand upwards, ducked her head underneath it, and caught the drop on her tongue. She lowered her hand, catching all of the tail of the drop on her tongue as well. And then she put her thumb into her mouth and licked that clean, too.

She winked at me and then put the cigarette between her lips, took a cheek-hollowing drag, held the smoke for a moment, and then blew it just passed the tip of my nose in an exhale that might have lasted five full seconds. 

“How was that?” 

“If nothing else happens tonight…”

Another bark of laughter: a single “Ha!’” and her eyes glistened. “Don’t worry, wallflower, a LOT more is going to happen tonight.”

Lara’s feet and right hand danced on the clutch and the stick shift and we slowed down one last time. She tossed her cigarette out the window. On our right, the front gate to a private house was already rolling back as we approached and we shot though the partially opened gate at 25 mph with about four inches to spare on my side of the car. We raced up a driveway that curved gently to the left, and screeched to a stop directly in front of the house.

Lara got out of the car as I looked around. “So this is where a celebrity lives,” I said to myself. “It looks just like anybody else’s home.” Lara’s swaying ass made her red gown twinkle in the moonlight as she walked between the rows of red and yellow flowers that lined the walkway to the door.

I got out of the car with my hands between my legs, quickly looking left and right, but there were trees at both sides of the house and no way for the neighbors to see me. I turned back to the car to get my clothes.

“Leave them! You won’t be needing them tonight,” she said, unlocking the front door.

“There’s nobody home, right?”

That devilish smile again. She hesitated just long enough for me to think there was someone inside before she said, “Just you and me – all alone.” She disappeared inside.

I hurried in behind her, thinking I was becoming a member in a very small club: people who have entered a stranger’s house for the very time while stark naked. 

Lara was halfway up the stairs as I stepped inside and closed the door. As she climbed, she held a handful of the front of her gown so she wouldn’t trip. “The kitchen is all the way through on the left. Bring me a beer, and help yourself to anything you like.”

I walked through a living room that had a TV that looked the size of a small movie screen, a dining room that had a table with settings for eight people, and on into a huge kitchen that had one of those big stainless steel refrigerators like hotels have. I opened the fridge and I didn’t believe what I saw. She had more food in her refrigerator than I have clothes, papers, and assorted junk in my closet. Twelve bottles of Bud sat on the bottom shelf. I grabbed one, opened it, and went looking for Lara’s bedroom.

When I got to the top of the stairs, four rooms were dark Light from the only other room spilled into the hallway. 

The walls of Lara’s bedroom were painted navy blue. The carpet and the furniture were all white. A king-sized sleigh bed with a headboard and footboard of light-colored wood stood to the left of the door. A white writing desk with gold trim occupied the far corner. Across from the foot of the bed stood a chest of drawers. To the right of the door was Lara’s make up table. Her red evening gown hung across the chair. And in the corner, next to the window, Lara sat in a big white easy chair, her legs crossed, wearing only her red high heels.

I brought her her beer, wanting to look at all that bare skin, but I tried to play it cool. And her eyes held me once again.

“I said you could help yourself.”

“I know. I don’t drink.”

She took the bottle, closed her eyes, tilted her head back and drank almost half the bottle at once. While she was drinking, I stole a look at her body. I expected her breasts to be almost non-existent, and they were small. But they were bigger than I thought they’d be: small cones topped off with pink nipples.

She had so little body-fat that I could see the faint lines of her abdominal muscles just under her skin.

Only the very top of her dark brown bush was visible: a straight line across her lower abdomen. 

I expected her legs to be too thin (it was too dark in the car to get a good look at them), but they were surprisingly shapely: a model’s legs. The ankle straps of her bright red shoes gave her the aura of class.

“You have a shoe fetish, too?”

I looked up and saw she was smiling at me; smiling because she caught me staring. 

“No. No shoe fetish. Its just…there’s something sexy about shoes with ankle straps. They seem elegant or sophisticated or something.”

She pointed to the dresser across from the foot of the bed. “There’s a tape measure in the top drawer. Bring it to me.”

I found the tape measure sitting on top of a drawer full of thong panties. 

I brought it to her and she said, “Stand in front of me.”

Lara leaned back in her chair and uncrossed her legs. Slowly, steadily, her legs opened. More and more of her bush came into view: a thick but well-groomed triangle against milky white skin. Just above the left-hand corner of the triangle, a tattoo came into sight: a small green shamrock.

I looked from her bush to her famous face and back again. My cock lifted and lifted and lifted. And Lara continued to open her legs wider and wider until the tendons in her groin stretched as far as they would go. The folds of her inner lips were already shiny and flushed a bright red. 

She caressed and fondled me – her touch felt like warm silk – until my dick until it was almost painfully stiff and pointing to a spot on the wall high above Lara’s head.

Lara pushed the metal tab at the end of the tape measure flush against my pubic bone. “Now let’s see what we have here.” She ran the tape along the top of my cock. “Bend forward. I can’t see the numbers with your cock standing at that angle.”

I had to lean so far forward my forehead touched her shoulder.

Lara twisted her head, neck, and shoulder this way and that, giggling. “You’re breathing on my neck!”

“I can smell your shampoo.” I inhaled deeply. “And your perfume.”

“You like?”

“Mmm, feminine.”

A hundred freckles dotted the tops of her shoulders and went down her slender back. 

“Six and…three-eighths. Stand up!” She shoved my shoulder upwards, still laughing. 

She wrapped the tape around the center of the shaft and ducked her head to see the underside of my cock to read the measurement.

“Five…and… five-eights. Well, wallflower, you’re a little longer than average, and definitely thicker than average.” She dropped the tape measure on the floor and slouched down in the chair, sliding her hips to the edge of the seat. “Get on your knees.”

Lara lifted her legs onto the arms of the chair, and I saw a second tattoo: a large Celtic cross on the inside of her left ankle. 

She wiggled her hips getting more comfortable in the chair. “Now, put your pretty face between my legs and make me come.”

I bent forward staring at her pussy. At the ball, in the car, even here in the bedroom, she had played it cool. She had been casual and confident in taking control of this entire situation. But now, her secret was out: she was every bit as excited about all of this as I was. Everything between her legs was glistening and shining: her inner lips, her outer lips, the tops of her inner thighs, the skin between her pussy and asshole. Already there was a wet spot the size of a quarter on the seat of the chair.

I sniffed her bush and smelled body powder and a faint hint of strawberries (douche, I presumed). 

I looked up at her famous face. She wasn’t smiling now; she was staring at me intently, breathing though her mouth, exhaling just hard enough to for me to hear in the quiet room. I continued to watch her as I gently kissed her pussy lips. She made one soft whimper and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.




My Night With Lara Flynn Boyle



She pulled my head flush against her pussy and closed her eyes. I kissed her swollen outer lips and was surprised to find they weren’t just warm they were almost hot. Starting at the bottom of her pussy I licked my way up the right side, washing away all the wetness that had seeped out of her.

I moved up her lip and a few hairs bristled against the tip of my tongue and my lips as I bathed Lara’s pussy. Those few hairs quickly gave way to a thick, well-groomed, and surprisingly shiny bush. As I kissed the top of her pussy, I deliberately grazed the tip of her clit with my chin making Lara pull in her abdominal muscles and arch her back for a moment. She pulled my face tighter against her and her breathing became just a little louder.

Except for that one brief touch, I ignored her clit and started licking clean the left side of her pussy. Lara made a noise that sounded like half a groan and half a chuckle. I sneaked a quick look at her: her eyes were still closed and she was still breathing through her mouth but now she was half-smiling. 

I gently sucked one inner lip and, at the same time, massaged it with my tongue. My tongue slipped and slid on the sliver of flesh. I sucked harder then softer then harder then softer and made sure I ran my tongue back and forth over and over every fold and wrinkle on it before I let it go.

Lara mumbled, “Mmm, wallflower,” so softly I barely heard her in the silent room.

I figured she was expecting me to give her other inner lip the same treatment so instead I began touching her hole with the tip of my tongue. I didn’t lick or taste her, just randomly touched the edges of her hole so she couldn’t expect where the next tingle of pleasure would come from. I did it slowly at first and gradually sped up my pace until the tip of my tongue was dancing all around her entrance.

A brief groan of pleasure caught in her throat, and her fingernails bit into the backs of my ears.

I was careful to make sure my tongue never went more than the tiniest fraction of an inch inside her. Lara tried to squeeze her hole shut around my tongue, trapping it inside her. The more excited she became, the stronger the smell of strawberries. I licked along the top of half of her opening, and then I twisted my head and licked along the left side of her opening. I ran the tip of my tongue up the left side of her hole across the top of it and down the right side.

“Put your tongue inside!” 

I looked up at her. Those blue eyes weren’t closed anymore; she was watching me, her brow furrowed with mild frustration. I shook my head and wondered if she could see me smiling at her happy distress.

She smiled back at me and said, “You fucker.”

I kissed her on her clit and she sucked in air.

“Should I move up to here?” I asked, knowing my warm breath was landing on her clit.

She nodded quickly.

“You going to call me ‘fucker’ again?”

She laughed that throaty, woman-of-the-world laugh again. “Let’s remember something, wallflower,” she said in her Helen Gamble, assistant D.A. voice. “You’re the one on your knees because you’re the slave in this little relationship. I give the orders; you obey them.” She put both hands at the back of my head and pulled my face hard to her pussy. “Now, lick …and suck …and worship my stiff little clit. And don’t stop until I give you a direct order to stop!”

I looked between her legs again and saw her clit – shining wet – standing out from under its hood as if searching for something, anything that would provide physical contact. I touched the tip of my tongue to it and my tongue slid right off it. I had to lick Lara’s dampness off her clit so I could keep my mouth attached to it. As I licked her clean once more (it felt like a thick grain of rice), Lara jumped again in the chair, her stomach muscles clenching and unclenching. 

Lara let go of the back of my head and melted back into the chair, a long low moan of pleasure coming from her. 

I moved my jaw side-to-side so my lips were massaging the top and bottom of her clit. I swirled my tongue around and around as much of Lara’s clit that was in my mouth.

Lara started gently thrusting herself against my mouth. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked tranquil, and I wondered if she was even aware she was moving her hips. I put my thumbs a quarter-inch to each side of Lara’s little button and gently but firmly pressed them inwards and down towards the root of her clit. Lara’s eyes – and mouth – shot open and she gasped. Our eyes locked. I sucked her harder, swirled my tongue faster, and she began bouncing her hips up and down harder. Then I delivered the knockout punch: while still gently sucking and licking and still pressing down and in on the roots of Lara’s clit with my thumbs, I moved one thumb up an inch and the other down at the same time. I did that again and again and again, rolling the roots of Lara’s clit between the sides my thumbs.

Lara’s eyes bulged. Her hands slammed onto the arms of the chair and the skin under her fingernails turn white from the pressure with which she squeezed the chair’s arms. And she screamed. I don’t know if it was from shock or pleasure or both but she screamed. And screamed loud. She put her heels onto the edge of the seat cushion and pushed down with them hard. She lifted her hips off the chair, pushing her clit to my mouth as hard as she could. 

Her mouth opened and she gasped for breath as she bent her head forward, still looking me in the eyes. She began shaking her head side to side and a gurgling noise escaped from the back of her throat. The shaking spread to her shoulders and then to her chest making her breasts jiggle. She humped her groin into my face as hard and as fast as she could.

Then she screamed again. Loud again. Her back arched so much only her heels and her hands were touching the chair. It was a long, loud drawn-out “ahh” that had one, then two, then three hitches in it.

Lara squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth for three or four seconds as her scream faded to a lengthy grunting sound. Suddenly she stopped banging her groin into my face and she collapsed onto the chair, her arms and legs limp.

I crawled back from her and studied my handiwork: Lara’s head was bowed, her legs were splayed in a very unladylike way, and red splotches of a sex flush spotted her entire body from the waist up. 

She sat like that, motionless except for the rising and falling of her belly, for so long I had to ask, “Are you okay?” 

She lifted her head and let it drop against the back of the chair. Three locks of her ponytail had worked themselves loose and now hung over her forehead. “Only three women. You actually had me believing that bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

She shook her head. 

“I swear it.”

She watched me carefully and nibbled at the inside of her cheek. “Where did you learn that little trick?”

“My last girlfriend. She used to react to it pretty much the same way you did.”

“She teach you any other tricks?”

I smiled. “That one wasn’t enough?”

She laughed. “Good point.” She crooked her finger at me. “Come here.”

I started to stand up.

“Come here on your knees.”

I crawled to her and she spread her legs wide.

“Clean me.”

All the work I did cleaning her before had been undone; Lara was wetter now than she was ten minutes ago.

The wet spot on the seat had grown. It was the width of three of my fingers.

Her outer lips were plump and bright pink; dampness glistened on the insides of her thighs; and the musk of her sex overwhelmed the strawberry scent of her douche.

“Stay away from my clit. It’s gets really sensitive after I get eaten.” I did as I was told and avoided her clit and licked clean her outer and inner lips, her juices tasting slightly metallic at the sides of my tongue.

The skin between her pussy and asshole shined, and Lara jumped at my first lick. She was hairless there so I was able use my entire tongue, not just the tip, to clean her. Her taste was stronger on the middle of my tongue as I swiped that stretch of skin a half-dozen times, getting a powerful taste of her. My nose was almost in her pussy as I finished licking her clean. 

Only her asshole – clean and tiny – still glistened with her wetness. I had never licked an asshole before, and I wondered if it was safe. Everything I had seen and smelled of Lara spoke of cleanliness. I sniffed her asshole, and smelled only strawberry and pussy. I looked up at her, but I didn’t see the woman who had picked me up at the ball. Instead, I saw Lara Flynn Boyle, the TV star, staring back at me, watching me intently, waiting to see what I would do next.

I leaned forward, and Lara’s eyes open wide with shock. I started to stick out my tongue out, and her brow furrowed in a look of panic. She doesn’t want me to do it I thought. We stared at each other, both of us frozen for a moment. But she made no move to stop me. I leaned forward again and the instant the tip of my tongue touched her asshole and it immediately squeezed shut as Lara whimpered out loud, breathing hard and loud through her nose. She scrambled lower in the chair so that she was almost lying on the seat cushion. She pulled her knees to shoulders, and tucked her elbows behind them to keep her legs pinned back. Her red high heels dangled over her ass and her asshole was pointed straight up at me. 

I put the tip of my tongue on the dead center of her asshole and Lara jumped. It felt tiny, warmer than the surrounding skin, and surprisingly soft. I could feel the grooves that lead to the center of the sealed off hole. I gently probed it and it held firm. All I could taste clean skin and pussy juice; all I could smell were Lara’s musk, the faint hint of strawberry douche, and body powder. I swirled my tongue around the outer edges and the tip bounced over the grooves. I slathered a huge dollop of saliva on Lara’s asshole, and then licked it up again. And every time I put the tip of my tongue directly on her hole, Lara flinched.

My balls shifted in their sac and another surge of pre-cum pushed up through my dick and out of my slit. A gentle breeze wafted in the open window and I felt a wet chill along the full length of the underside of my cock all the way down to my balls. 

I kept licking Lara’s soft hole until I could taste no more pussy juice - only clean skin. The humiliation was wonderfully intense: my legs were curled under me and I was propping myself up my hands. I realized I was sitting like a dog. And I was acting like a dog, eagerly licking my mistress’s asshole, desperately hoping to please her. 

I stole a quick look at her. Lara’s eyebrows had furrowed almost into a straight line and there was almost a look of panic in her eyes as if she were frightened I would stop what I was doing.

I spread more spit directly on top of her asshole and licked around the ring, hoping the anticipation was building in Lara and knowing I was getting closer to the most humiliating thing I could do. I licked up my spit, swirled it all around my tongue and swallowed it. My heart pounded so hard I felt veins throbbing on both sides of my neck. 

Push it open a voice in the back of my mind said. Force your tongue past her tight little ring. Feel her asshole giving way as your tongue slides through. Something in my bowels lurched and everything inside me below my belly began to feel watery with fear. I knew it was dangerous, but I had never felt such intense lust – or such intense temptation. I had every reason to think Lara was completely clean. Maybe just a little, I thought. Don’t go in too deep. But penetrate her. Get at least a little way inside her body. 

I pushed the tip of my tongue against her sealed hole and Lara almost jumped out of the chair. I pushed a little more, paused for a moment, pushed a little harder, paused again, and pushed harder still. 

Lara’s hole gave way just a bit and she was penetrated a fraction of an inch. 

“OHHH!” Lara sounded so startled I thought someone had appeared in the doorway. I even started to turn around to check, but Lara grabbed my head and pulled it back to her.

“Don’t stop! God damn it! Don’t stop!” She looked as if she was about to cry.

Something was stirring deep inside her, something primal, something she’d never dealt with before, maybe something she never knew existed inside her. Whatever it was, it was awake now. Lara’s breathing turned ragged and she rocked her hips up to my mouth trying to impale her ass on my tongue. She let go of my head; her right hand went to her pussy, her middle finger rubbing her clit back and forth as fast as possible. And she dragged her fingernails of her left hand along her left nipple. Lara’s panting and gasping were so loud the open window would have made me nervous if I thought there was any chance someone might be anywhere nearby.

“Do it! Put your tongue up my ass!”

I put my tongue on her asshole once more and slowly pushed. Once more, the ring of muscle gave way just a fraction of an inch and this time the very tip of my tongue slipped inside. There was a bitter taste and her asshole clenched around the tip of my tongue, trying to push it out.

I wiggled and wriggled my tongue, making it squirm against the ring of her asshole.

“OHHH!!” Again, her startled shout startled me. And she rocked her hips up to my mouth so hard she grunted with each effort.

I kept wriggling my tongue as I pushed a little more and it slid in the tiniest bit deeper. My nose pressed against the stretch of skin between Lara’s pussy and her asshole and slid to the side: she was wet and slippery again. And the scent of this famous woman filled my mind.

I wriggled and corkscrewed my tongue, hoping Lara would enjoy the burrowing sensation. I didn’t want to push deep inside her immediately; I wanted to give Lara time to realize what I was doing and let the anticipation build in her. 

“God, yes! Do it! Do it!” Lara’s middle finger made smacking sounds at it assaulted her wet clit.

I built up the pressure and Lara’s hole gave way and opened just a little more. I wriggled my tongue for a few seconds and then withdrew it.

“NOOO! God damn it, wallflower! Don’t stop now!” She was laughing, demanding, and shouting all at the same time. “Put it back in, you wonderful mother-fucker! PUT IT BACK IN!” 

I leaned forward once more, but I didn’t only put my tongue to her asshole, I also put my lips firmly around her hole. And as I pushed into her again, I also created a gentle suction, pulling her the ring of her asshole into my mouth.

She screamed/laughed again. She let go of her nipple and began finger-fucking herself with two fingers of her left hand while she continued to attack her clit with her right hand. Her fingers and knuckles of both hands struck me in the face again and again.

As I wormed my tongue passed her ring, I softly sucked her asshole. And that sensation pushed her over the edge. She let out a long drawn-out series of runts as she bucked her hips up and down on the edge of the chair. She gritted her teeth and her chest and shoulders were again covered with red splotches. Her knuckles and fingers pounded my eyes and nose as she furiously worked at her clit and her hole. 

I kept twisting and squirming my tongue, just barely penetrating her asshole as she rode out her orgasm. 

It took about fifteen seconds before one final grunt and her hands stopped battering at her pussy. But I continued my assault, trying to win every second of pleasure I could for her.

“Stop, wallflower!” She lowered her feet, put her high heels against the top of my shoulders, and straightened her legs as hard as she could, knocking me flat on my back five feet from the chair.

We must have been a sight: the celebrity slumped in the chair with glassy eyes, her legs spread wide, and her pussy shining, and the nobody lying on the floor with sore knees, his mouth and tongue chaffed, and his cock as rigid as an iron bar bouncing with every heartbeat. We watched each other in our embarrassing positions, and suddenly, there was a tension in the air. Something was going back and forth between us in that stare. We had both crossed into new sexual territory. And we both liked what we had found there. 

Lara blinked first and pointed towards the door. “Mouthwash,” she said, her breathing still ragged. “In the bathroom. Use plenty of it. Then get back in here.”

She never took her eyes off me as I got off the floor. I touched my cock and the entire underside of it – all the way down to the bottom of my scrotum – was wet and slippery.

The bathroom was decorated in pale blue and white and could have been used as a small apartment. An eight-foot long makeup table sat against one wall with floor to ceiling mirrors. She had a small refrigerator underneath the makeup table. Two large chairs (for guests?) and a coffee table sat beside the makeup table. 

To the right of the makeup table was another eight feet of sink space. A large bottle of blue Listerine sat on the counter. I watched myself in the huge mirror as I took a mouthful and winced at the taste of the stuff. I had two red spots an inch across on the front of my shoulders where Lara had driven her high heels. I leaned back against the sink while I swished the burning liquid around in my mouth. Across the room, a large bay window with pebbled glass surrounded a massive white bathtub on three sides. The tub was big enough for six adults. 

I spit the Listerine in the sink and took another mouthful, this time scrubbing the tip of my tongue against the back of my teeth as I went snooping around the room. The curved shower stall had six showerheads at different levels. She even had a 32” television in there. I looked around the room and realized there was no toilet. I turned all the way around, slowly. There was no toilet in the bathroom. There were two doors beside the bathtub. I opened the first one and found shelves from floor to ceiling filled with towels, washcloths and robes. I opened the second door and there, in a spotlessly clean four by six foot room, I found not one, but two toilets. I knew the second toilet was actually a bidet, but I couldn’t figure out how it worked. I started to reach for the handle when Lara called.

“Bring a towel. You’ve left me soaking wet. Again.”

I took one last look at the tiny toilet room, went to the sink, spit out the mouthwash, grabbed a towel, and went back to the bedroom.

The white chair was empty. Only the red high heels lay on the floor in front it. Lara sat on the bed, cross-legged and rubbing her feet, with a pillow between her back and the headboard. 

She took the towel and pointed to the footboard. “Sit.”

I tried to get comfortable on the wooden footboard of the bed as Lara wiped her pussy dry.

“That was wonderful, wallflower. I can’t believe you did that. Christ, what a rush!”

She scooted forward, lay flat on the bed and pulled her knees up to her chest so she could dry her ass. 

“For me, too.”

She tossed the towel to me. “Your cock is leaking,” she said as she pulled the pillow under her head and then spread her legs wide showing off her pink swollen pussy.

As I wiped the trail of pre-cum off myself, Lara gently dragged a finger through the cleft of her pussy.

I looked for somewhere to put the towel.

“Just drop it.” 

She sat up, leaned over on her elbow, took something from the drawer in the nightstand, and tossed it to me. “Rub that on.”

I read the label. “Desensitizing cream. Fruit flavored. I don’t know about this.” 

“It’s completely safe,” Lara said, laying back down and caressing her pussy again. “Look, you haven’t had a woman in five years, and I want a fuck that’s going to last more than ten seconds. You want to fuck me? Use the cream.”

I unscrewed the cap and smelled the stuff. It smelled like fruity chewing gum. I put a dab on my fingertip and rubbed along the top of my cock head. 




My Night With Lara Flynn Boyle



“Rub it in deep. Plenty of it.”

She watched my hands at work at my dick. “Be sure to put a lot along the back edge of the head. And the shaft as well.”

“It works fast. I can feel it tingling. It’s making my fingertips numb, too.”

“The towel’s on the floor.”

I scrubbed my fingertips on the towel, but it was too late. Most of the sensation was already gone. “How long does this stuff last?” I dropped the towel on the floor once more.

She barked her sexy laugh again. “Long enough. Come here.”

I walked on my knees until I was in between Lara’s legs. She flicked a polished fingernail hard against the head of my cock. “Feel that?”

“Just barely.”

“Good. Look at that beautiful thing,” she said staring at my cock and fingering herself again. “Standing up, throbbing like that. It’s like a weapon. It’s going to stretch open my little hole, slide up through my narrow canal, filling me till it almost hurts, pushing deep inside me until I can feel it in the pit of my belly. I don’t know why I dried my pussy. I’m just getting wet all over again.” She lay down once more and pulled her knees up and back towards her shoulders. Soft squishing noises came from Lara’s pussy as she finger-fucked herself harder.

Then she crooked her finger at me, gesturing, “Come here.”

I leaned forward, put my hands beside Lara’s shoulders, and looked straight down at her. Her arm went between our bodies. “Feel that?” she asked.

I shook my head, and she smiled up at me. I looked down between us and saw Lara digging all five fingernails into the head of my cock.

“I’ll guide it in for you.” I watched as she gripped the shaft; I couldn’t feel that either. But I did feel her pulling me down on top of her until my hips were close enough to hers to feel her body heat.

“Okay,” Lara said, “the head is between my lips. Now don’t move.” She slid both hands around my hips and onto my ass, giving both cheeks a strong squeeze. “Don’t push. Let me pull you into me. I love the feeling of a cock sliding in and filling me up.”

Lara closed her eyes as she pulled my hips closer to hers, and once more I saw the famous face that I had been seeing on television for years. I concentrated on my cock, waiting to feel the heat, the tightness, and the slipperiness that I hadn’t felt in five years.

But I felt nothing.

Lara smiled, her eyes still closed, and she moaned soft and quiet. “Oh, wallflower, good…thick…cock.” 

Lara kept pulling me by my ass and I kept sinking deeper into her. But I felt nothing until my balls came to rest under Lara’s pussy and my hips rested on top of hers.

I started to withdraw, wondering how I would know when to push forward again when Lara dug her fingernails into my ass.

“Not yet! I want to enjoy this for a little while.” We lay there motionless for several seconds, and the heat from Lara’s body warmed me. Her body was much warmer than mine. “Don’t lean on your elbows.” She used her upper arms to push my elbows from under me. “Put all your weight on top of me.”

I lowered myself completely on top of her as gently as I could; I was suddenly worried that her willowy body might to be too frail to support my weight. Her small breasts flattened under my chest, and she let out a long satisfied, “Ahhh.” I buried my face in the right side of her neck, smelling shampoo, perfume and a trace of cigarette smoke. Lara put one hand on the back of my head, and the gesture somehow made me feel safe and protected and wanted. Her lips brushed my ear as she said, “You have a wonderful cock, wallflower.” Her warm breath raised goose bumps down the side of my neck.

She buried her nose in my neck and inhaled deep and loud. “Good smell: clean, manly.” 

She moved under me and I felt the insides of her thighs slide up onto my sides and the insides of her ankles pressed into my hips. She pulled my face harder into her neck and whispered, “Fuck me. Fuck me good.”

I pulled my hips back what I guessed was a couple inches and pushed forward again and Lara sighed. “Yes. Short, slow strokes.” 

It took only a few seconds for me to get an idea how far I could withdraw and stay inside her. I lengthened my strokes and Lara sighed in approval. 

But before Lara could get used to the longer strokes I began mixing them up, varying longer ones with shorter ones. And I kept changing speeds.

Lara grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back. Her eyes were open now and she was beginning to breathe through her mouth again. “That’s good! Keep doing that!”

Still holding a handful of my hair, she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me hard and rough, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth. I licked her tongue and fought the urge to cringe from the taste of cigarettes. Instead, I sucked her tongue, bad taste and all.

Every time I thrust my hips forward, Lara huffed her hot breath into my mouth as we kissed. My cock was completely numb; all I felt was my balls slapping Lara between her pussy and asshole. I wondered if I might come anyway. Just because I couldn’t feel the friction Lara and I were creating, it was still there, doing what evolution intended it to do.

Lara caressed my face with her other hand, and I felt her nipples stiffen nipples against my chest. Her ankles slid up and off my hips and she dug her heels into my ass, trying to pull me deeper inside her.

I broke the kiss and put my face back into Lara’s neck, inhaling deeply, smelling things I’ve always associated with women: perfume, clean sheets, the flowery cachet from Lara’s bed linen. She kept a firm grip on the back of my head, holding my face safely against her neck. The air in that space between her neck and her pillow was warm and close and feminine.

I switched from long, slow strokes to short, fast ones and Lara moaned and giggled into my ear in response, sending another wave of goose bumps rippling down the right side of my body.

She let go of my hair and slid her arms around me so that both her forearms were pressed against the back of my neck pulling me down – hard. She had strong arms for such a slender woman. And as hard as she was pulling down on me, she continued to pull still harder.

Her breath came harder and faster, and with her mouth against my ear, I couldn’t hear the rustling of the mattress under us. And she hugged the back of my neck still harder, causing me real discomfort. I needed to get her to stop pulling me so hard without breaking the mood.

I stopped thrusting, pulled completely out of her, and got up on my knees. Before she could say anything, I gripped her behind her calves and slid her down the bed, closer to the footboard. I quickly put all my weight on top of her again her and slid forward into her pussy. When my balls slapped above her asshole, I put my feet against the footboard and continued to push, driving as deep into her as I could.

Lara squeezed her eyes shut and cried out. I couldn’t tell if it was a cry of pleasure or pain. 

“Oh, baby, yes! Do that! Do that!”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Her eyes snapped open and they bore into me. “It hurts so good,” she said, gasping loud. She grabbed my ass, digging her fingernails into me and pulling me hard into her. “Make it hurt. Make it hurt good, baby.”

I had gone from “wallflower” to “baby” with one move. And I wasn’t even thrusting; I was holding one steady push trying to get as deep inside her as I could go. And she was trying to help me get in deeper by pulling at my ass.

“Hurt my little pussy, baby,” she said, her womanly, smoky breath hitting me in the face. ”Drive that thick club in deep. Make my tender pussy ache.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

She slapped me on the ass hard. It sounded like a small gunshot

“God damn it! Do it! I want it!”

I kissed her – or tried to – but Lara caught my lower lip between her teeth and sucked on it hard enough to cause real pain. I pictured myself leaving the house with a huge hickey on my lip. She pulled harder on my ass. I tried to push deeper into her but when I saw her flinch, I pulled back.

“No! Don’t keep pulling back like that!” she ordered, still holding my bottom lip between her teeth. “I told you: I like it!” I slowly pushed back in as deep as I could, then I tried to go a little farther and Lara again cringed with the ache. “Yes. Like that. Fuck me deep.” She sucked even harder at my bottom lip – so hard I started to worry my lip would split open.

I wasn’t sure about any of this but I did as she asked and slid my cock into her again, staying deep inside her, pulling back just barely, only an inch or two before thrusting in again.

Every time I pushed into Lara she winced. She let go of my lip, rolled her head back on the pillow. Her face relaxed slightly when I withdrew and then she cringed when I slid forward.

Her heels slid off my ass and she dug her feet in between the front of my thighs and the mattress. When I thrust into her, she used her feet to pull up against my thighs. It took several strokes before I realized what he was doing: each time I pushed into her, she pulled up with her feet to rock her hips downward so her clit would be in direct contact with the shaft of my cock as I pushed into her pussy.

As each of my strokes slammed into her, she cringed. And each time she cringed, I flinched inside. But she was getting that urgent look in her eyes between the cringes. Huff after huff of warm breath smelling of alcohol and cigarette smoke hit me and combined with the smell of perfume, floral sachet and clean sheets. She didn’t blink; she just stared and cringed up at me, gasping, humping her hips downward with each inward stroke of my cock.

“Harder.” Her voice just a raspy pleading hitching a ride on her loud exhales. “Baby, make it hurt just a little bit more.” 

I tried to push deeper with each thrust. And as my pubic bone hammered Lara’s, she began to whimper out loud. Our rhythm was perfect and the sound of our bodies clapping together filled the room. I thought if anyone were in the house, they would instantly recognize the sound.

As if on cue, a car roared by outside, but the sound couldn’t drown out the slapping of our groins or Lara’s whimpers.

I began to feel more confident. Lara was genuinely enjoying the discomfort. I could have looked at her forever like that: her dark-brown ponytail laying across the white pillowcase, her blue eyes staring urgently up at me, her neck, chest, and shoulders, flushed pink, a thin film of sweat shining on her forehead. 

I began to wonder again how long the desensitizing cream would work when Lara gritted her teeth and her whimpers changed to what sounded like hisses.

“Faster, do it faster,” she grunted between her hisses.

I did as I was told, and immediately Lara began nodding her head. I listened to her hisses and realized she was grunting, “Yes” with every in-stroke. Lara tried humping her hips downward to match my strokes but she couldn’t find the right timing any more and our rhythm became ragged. But Lara was too far along to care. She kept up as best she could: hissing and humping and pulling at me.

And then her eyes opened wide for a moment before squeezing shut. She stopped hissing “yes” at me and gritted her teeth and growled. She arched her back so far I was able to slide my arms around her body, and again I was struck by what a tiny thing she was, and I held her tightly to me. She bent her head so far back that the tendons at the front and the sides of her neck popped up and strained under her skin. The tops of her feet pushed up against the tops off my thighs so hard that my feet slid up the footboard, and I had to grab the top edge of the footboard with my toes so I would be able to keep thrusting into her. 

She held her neck and upper back in that arched position as a muffled growl from deep in her throat filled the room. Her fingernails dug into my ass so hard I felt a burning sensation and, for a moment, I wondered if she would break my skin.

After ten seconds later, she collapsed back onto the bed her arms and legs going lifeless.

I stopped thrusting and gently lowered myself on top of her, feeling proud of myself.

Our breathing slowed and our bellies kept sticking to each other by a thin sheen of sweat on our bodies. I felt Lara’s heart thudding against my chest. 

We lay there like that until our breathing had returned to normal and she took my face in both her hands to look at me. Her eyes darted around as she looked at every part of my face. 

“Wallflower, you are a prize.”

She pulled my face down to hers and kissed me, long and soft and loving.

She broke the kiss and asked, “Is the cream still working?”

I nodded.

“Good. One more time.”

“Again? You said your clit gets too sensitive…”

She shook her head. “That’s after someone goes down on me. I can come two, sometimes three times in a row from fucking. Hurry!” She slapped my ass. “Don’t let my pussy cool down.”

“What am I? A cock for hire?” I joked.

“’For hire’?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “’For hire’ means you get paid. You’re just a stud for the night,” she said coldly. She stared at me for five full seconds with a stern expression on her face. And then she winked. “Nothing more,” she added with an unmistakable tone of affection in her voice. She kissed me tenderly – and held the kiss longer than I expected her to. When she broke the kiss, she pulled my face to hers so our foreheads and noses were touching and she looked me in the eyes and whispered, “Please make me come again, baby.”

I lifted my feet against the footboard and slid deeply into her.

“No, no,” she said. “Gentle this time.”

Once more, Lara hooked her feet under my thighs and we fell into a tender rhythm. 

Hidden away from the rest of the world, the two of us quietly rocked and rolled our hips in a slow, steady rhythm, kissing and smiling and breathing in each other’s breath.

Our tongues danced and sparred. I gently sucked her top lip (and caught a slight taste of beer) while she sucked my bottom lip – tenderly this time.

Lara dragged her fingers up and down my spine, sending wave after wave of goose bumps running across my back. 

As I looked at her, the first impression Lara made at the Ball came rushing back to me: defiant in sparkling bright red in a sea of plain black and white, the only one who dared to smoke in the ballroom: she was confident and beautiful and womanly. And now she was lying under me, staring up at me, kissing me, her arms around me, and her thighs gripping my hips.

And then I felt just a hint of the heat and pressure of Lara’s pussy around my cock.

“The cream is starting to wear off.”

“You can feel me?” she asked, still kissing me, her words going into my mouth.

“A little.”

She smiled a contented, loving smile. “Okay.” She pulled me down off my elbows and hugged me tight. Once more her lips brushed against my ear. “Fuck me, wallflower. Fuck me slow and deep and gentle.” She rocked her hips a little faster and harder.

I slid my arms between her and the mattress once again and held her tightly as our hips fell into perfect timing. We stared into each other’s eyes as our kisses became more urgent. 

Each time I thrust into her, Lara raised her hips to meet me and grunted softly. Suddenly, she tightened her arms around me.

I looked at her, my eyebrows raised, silently asking, “Is it starting to get close?”

She flashed her perfect white smile and nodded. And a wave of genuine affection for this passionate, beautiful sexual woman flooded through me. 

Each long slow stroke up into her belly made her grunt a soft puff of air creating a warm spot on my cheek.

Lara clamped her thighs around me tighter and tighter as she raised her hips harder and faster to meet my thrusts. Her exhales landed on my cheek with more force. She pulled my face to hers, caught the tip of my tongue between her teeth and gently sucked my tongue deep into her mouth.

I stopped thrusting – my cock as deep inside her pussy while she held my tongue deep inside her mouth, massaging it with her own. I pulled my cock almost completely out of her, and she pushed my tongue almost completely out of her mouth. When I slid into her, she sucked my tongue into her mouth. She did that again and again: when my dick slid into her, she pulled my tongue into her. When I slid my dick out of her, she pushed my tongue out of her. 

The tingling in my groin grew. The warmth and pressure of Lara’s pussy were becoming more and more noticeable. So much so that I had to break the kiss.

Lara recognized the look of concern on my face. This time she raised her eyebrows, looking to know if I was getting close to coming.

I nodded and Lara bucked her hips harder than she had all night. Lara’s stiff clit pressed along the top of the shaft – I could feel it now, and I re-positioned myself, riding higher on top of Lara so she could make stronger contact between her clit and my cock. 

Immediately, Lara closed her eyes, bucked her hips against me more fiercely, and let out a satisfied, “Perfect, wallflower.”

Then she opened her eyes again, and still smiling and staring at me, began nodding her head, encouraging me onward. Lara’s gasps drowned out the sighing of the mattress.

Lara pulled my head down to hers until our foreheads touched. Once again that urgent look appeared in her eyes. 

She opened her mouth wide, breathing hard. 

I reached under her ass and pulled her up to me each time I plunged into her. Still holding my forehead to hers, she nodded in approval, her eyes wide and unblinking. Sensation was quickly returning to my cock; each time I pushed into her I felt the walls of her pussy grabbing at me trying to stop my cock from sliding back out.

Her gasps morphed into soft sobs as we worked together to bring her to orgasm.

I squeezed her ass and pulled her pussy and clit against my cock with every in-stroke. Our foreheads and our eyes seemed to be locked together. Lara’s sobs got louder and tears welled up in her eyes.

Her pussy tried harder than ever to hold onto my cock—my sensitivity almost completely back now. We were now in a race to see which of us would come first. I wanted it to be Lara, but I wasn’t sure that would happen—the sensations were rushing back to my groin like a tidal wave. I wondered how intense my orgasm would be. I had had this hard-on for more than an hour and a half; I hadn’t been with a woman in five years, and Lara’s beauty and sexual aggressiveness were the stuff of my fantasies. I wondered if it was possible to come so hard that I do some sort of damage to my balls. That thought pulled me back from the brink of orgasm; the building pressure deep inside my lower abdomen faded. But it wouldn’t be gone for long.

Just then Lara’s opened her mouth wide, she inhaled suddenly and sharply, and drove her head back onto the pillow. She locked onto me with those blue eyes and gritted her teeth as her entire body went rigid under me. A loud groan tried to escape from her throat but she caught it and fought to keep inside. Her hips bucked up against me so hard we were both bouncing on the mattress. A single tear slid from her left eye rolled down the side her face towards her ear.

The sight of her like that: her blue eyes opened wide staring at me, her body rigid, the muffled moan, and that lone tear pushed me to the brink of my own orgasm. Now that Lara had gone over the edge, I desperately wanted to follow her. Instead of trying to ignore the twinge deep inside me, I focused on it, mentally encouraging it. 

Lara went limp under me, her thighs fell away from my hips, her arms dropped to the bed, and the groan she fought to stifle escaped as a contented sigh. She stared up at me with a tranquil smile and said, “Come here and kiss me, wallflower.” Perfect, I thought, I want to be kissing her when I come. 

It was our softest, gentlest kiss of the night: a long, lingering kiss of pure affection. And as we kissed I thought that this confident, beautiful, sexually aggressive woman had had four orgasms. Because of me. The tingling in my groin grew quickly, and I pumped my hips harder, more urgently.




My Night With Lara Flynn Boyle



But Lara broke the kiss and said, “Stop, baby, stop.”

I was just seconds from the orgasm that might damage my balls. But I didn’t care. I had to come inside the magnificent woman. I needed to leave part of me inside her, to leave proof that I was good enough for a woman of this quality. I humped harder and faster into her. 

“Stop! Stop, wallflower. I’m serious!” 

Just two or three more strokes, I thought.

I slid back one more time feeling every muscle in the bottom half of my torso tensing up, getting ready for ejaculation when Lara dug the heels of her hands into the tops of my hips and locked her elbows. She quickly wiggled her hips and crawled up the bed until, with a look of regret on her face, the head of my cock slipped out of her pussy.

“Two more strokes,” I said, embarrassed by the tone of pleading in my voice.

She pulled my head down and buried my face in her neck again. “I know,” she whispered into my ear. She took a deep breath a let it out in a warm rush, tickling my ear and neck “I know.” Another warm breath. “Just give me a minute, wallflower. Let me catch my breath.” Her breath sent a ripple of goose bumps down the side of my neck. As frustrated as I was, I was still content to feel her under me, the soft hot skin, her nipples stiff against my chest, her feminine touch caressing my back and ass. 

She kissed me on the ear and said, “You’re a wonderful lay, wallflower. I hit the jackpot with you.”

We lay there, Lara holding me, waiting for her panting to slow to more normal breathing. I tried to keep my hips still, but it was a hopeless cause. I had to move them. I rocked them back and forth ever so slightly, knowing my cock was suspended in mid-air, parallel to the mattress. 

Lara put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me. “Let me up for a minute, baby. I need a cigarette.”

I rolled off her and when I flopped onto my back, my cock was so stiff the head couldn’t move enough to touch my lower belly. As rigid as an iron bar, it just throbbed with each heartbeat, pointing at my chin.

I watched Lara’s naked ass sway left and right as she crossed the room to her makeup table. “Go clean that stuff off your cock,” she said without even bothering to look at me.

The pressure in my groin and the ache in my erection blocked out every other thought in my head. A massive orgasm was so close. And I wondered for the first time was I going to be allowed to come at all. Whatever else Lara had in mind, I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep playing this game. I closed my eyes and gently stroked myself. 

“Don’t do that!” Lara barked at me.

My entire body tensed so hard so fast, I jumped an inch off the bed. She was staring at me, a stern look on her face. “Go clean yourself.”

I rolled off the bed and walked past her for the first time since she took off her high heels, and again I was struck by how tiny she was. The top of her head was a couple inches below my shoulder.

In the bathroom, I stood at the sink and examined my cock. All the friction had left it swollen, shiny, and bright red. I didn’t see any of the desensitizing cream. I squeezed the head gently and a big drop of pre-cum oozed out and dripped into the sink. The head was too sensitive to wash even gently so I soaked a washcloth in cold water and then wrapped it around my cock. I used a small handful of liquid soap to work up a lather in my pubic hair. Lara called from the bedroom, “Rinse it off good! All I want to taste is clean dick and hot cum, not soap!”

I let the washcloth drop into the sink and splashed plenty of cool water on my cock and kept splashing until I was sure all the soap was washed off. Then I splashed on still more water. 

I walked back into the bedroom drying myself with a towel. Lara sat in front of the mirror at her makeup table, repairing her ponytail. “Go sit on the desk,” she said.

I crossed the room to a writing desk, pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Not AT the desk, ON the desk,” she said, looking at me in the makeup mirror.

I got out of the chair and sat down on top of the desk, feeling self-conscious about my cock pointing at the ceiling. Lara put down her hairbrush, stood up and dabbed perfume on her wrists. Her tiny waist accentuated her bare ass. Satisfied with the way she looked, she turned to face me, and smiled her best red carpet smile. The stern look she gave me before I went into the bathroom was gone.

Again I was struck how she is much prettier she is in person than she is on television or the movies. Her fair Irish skin made the dark brown triangle and the small shamrock tattoo just above the left corner stand out all the more. Her areola looked puffier than they did an hour ago. Her belly was almost distractingly flat.

She walked towards me, deliberately rolling her hips as she came, her head tilted slightly downward, smiling without parting her lips. She had a look of “You’re going like this next part” on her face. She toyed with an unlit cigarette as she walked. “Your smoking fetish …I want to hear more about it. Tell me about the most memorable time you saw a girl smoking”

She sat in the chair I was just in, and I caught the scent of her perfume – the same fresh-water smelling perfume she had worn to the ball. She made no attempt to hold her legs together, and I saw the inside of both her thighs were red from clamping them around my hips. 

She pulled the chair closer to the desk, pushed my legs apart, and then pulled the chair still closer so that she was sitting between my knees. She put her elbows on my thighs caressed my cock with the same hand she used to hold the cigarette. She looked up at me and said, “Well?”

My cock ached from being stiff for so long, and Lara’s caressing was making it try to stiffen even more.

“One time, four or five years ago, I’m sitting on a train and this girl gets on. Very pretty, beautiful even. Dark brown shoulder length hair, nineteen or twenty years old. She sits down across from me and she’s talking on a cell phone. And she’s laughing and smiling as she talks, really enjoying the conversation, you know?”

Lara nodded and watched me intently, paying full attention to my story.

“Anyway, she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder and starts digging though her shoulder bag and pulls out a cigarette. She puts it between her lips, lights the lighter, and just as she lifts the lighter, whoever she was talking to must have said something funny because the girl smiled. Not a big smile, just enough so that her mouth moved from a straight line into a very gentle arc. And she lit her cigarette while she was smiling that soft smile. At that moment, she looked almost angelic. And this thrill of excitement shot through my heart at the sight of her.”

“It really got to you, huh?”

“To this day, when I jerk off, I can make my orgasm more intense just by clearly picturing the corners of her mouth turned up as she lit that cigarette.” My stomach tightened and my face warmed with embarrassment.

“Have you ever told anybody that story before?”

I shook my head. “It’s been a private secret. Until now.”

“Wallflower, just about everything you say or do impresses me. How’s this?” Lara put her cigarette between her lips and smiled so softly only the corners of her mouth turned slightly upwards. She scratched her lighter to life and touched the flame to the tip of the cigarette. She even held the smile as her cheeks hollowed inward, the tip glowed orange, and a trail of smoke drifted up to my face. She removed the cigarette and asked, “As good as the train girl?” before she turned her head to blow a long thin stream of smoke.

I heard myself moan with pleasure, and I didn’t realize I was reaching to touch my cock until I felt Lara’s hand tighten around my wrist.

Lara barked a delighted laugh, and as the smell of the smoke combined with her perfume, I strained against Lara’s grip trying again to touch myself. 

“Wallflower, I’m becoming more fascinated with you by the minute.” She held the cigarette beside her ear. “You don’t smoke yourself?”

I shook my head. “I tried it when I was in high school. I hated it, couldn’t figure out how anybody could like it.”

“But you like the smell?” She took another drag, still smiling as she did.

“I don’t like the smell by itself. But when it’s mixed with perfume, to me that’s the smell of a woman. Not a girl, but a real woman who is a force to be reckoned with.” 

She pursed her lips and blew the stream of smoke up in my face. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply and suddenly Lara was standing and holding her wrist under my nose, her perfume filling my nose along with her smoke. The top of my skull felt like it was trying to float away. Then Lara’s hand closed around the head of my cock and squeezed gently.

I opened my eyes, looked down, and saw Lara was holding my cock with the same hand she was using to hold her cigarette. I looked at her and saw staring at me as she lovingly squeezed my cock with rhythmic pulses. 

“Thank you,” I heard myself say.

She leaned forward and kissed me again, the awful taste and exciting smell of smoke on her breath, and then she sat down once more. She licked her lips and bent forward over my cock. I couldn’t see what she was doing, but I felt Lara gently angling my erection towards her face. Wet heat surrounded the head of my cock as her lips formed a seal an inch or so behind the head. Lara swirled her tongue around my cock again and again, the friction making me tense almost every muscle in my body. She wriggled the tip of her tongue into the slit, and I jumped again, making the desk creak under me

Lara put the cigarette hand on my knee and her other hand closed around my shaft. She ran her thumb up the underside of the shaft and I felt a big dollop of pre-cum sliding up through the thick vein as Lara’s tongue massaged the slit and caught the pre-cum. Three more times she ran her thumb up the vein, each time starting closer to my balls, and each time more pre-cum tickled the inside of my cock as it slid forward out of me before ending up on Lara’s tongue. Then the sucking began.

Lara’s lips squeezed tight just behind the head and she sucked delicately while her tongue made barely grazing touches all over the head. I watched the smoke drifting up from the tip of the cigarette and smelled the biting tang of it. I leaned back and when I put my hands behind me, I knocked something off the desk. I looked at the floor and saw it was a script, and again the thought hit me: a TV star is sucking my dick. Lara started sucking a little harder and she began stroking the shaft and bobbing her head up and down a couple inches. I moaned softly and Lara chuckled. Light reflected off her ponytail as it lay among the freckles between her shoulder blades, and I concentrated on the smell of perfume and smoke and listened to the occasional sucking noise whenever Lara missed an up-stroke or down-stroke. But the feeling of the tight ring she made with her lips sliding up just those couple inches up and down the shaft started that familiar feeling of an orgasm begin to form. I began to squirm.

Lara stopped sucking and looked up at me. “You’re getting antsy. Does that mean what I think it means? Already?”

I nodded, embarrassed once again.

Lara smiled and brought her cigarette to her lips and I watched her cheeks hollow again When she took the cigarette away, she opened her mouth wide open to show me smoke so thick it looked almost solid. Then, in an instant, it vanished. She smiled and said, “How’s that?” 

All I could do was grin foolishly.

Lara fondled me with the hand she was using to hold the cigarette as she sent the long stream of smoke right at my cock. I could have sat there for hours just admiring the sight her slender, delicate fingers, her polished nails, the smoke rising from the tip of the cigarette and enjoying the aroma of perfume and smoke.

“Oh, God,” I muttered as I watched the stream of smoke continue longer than I would have expected. “This orgasm is going to kill me.”

“Well, at least you’ll go with a smile on your face,” Lara said, her voice sounding husky again as she squeezed my cock and caused another big drop of pre-cum to pop out of the slit. She spread it around the head with her thumb. 

Lara licked my pre-cum off her thumb. She put the cigarette to lips again and took another deep drag. Then she bent forward again, closed her lips lightly around the middle of the shaft, and exhaled. I felt a warm rush of air on my cock before a cloud of smoke came up from my lap. The sudden intense tingling at the center of my cock made me dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands. My left leg started to quiver and I pulled my stomach in, trying to force down the orgasm. But the smell, Lara’s aura of confidence and femininity, and the sight of her delicate hand on my knee… 

I focused on Lara’s mouth. At first she didn’t seem to be doing anything; all I felt was warmth of the inside of her mouth and her tongue resting against the thick vein running along the bottom of my cock, and my excitement receded once again. I expected her to start bobbing her head but instead I felt very slight suction. Lara kept her head perfectly still but the suction on my dick got a bit stronger. And after a few moments, it got stronger still. Bit by bit, the degree of suction Lara put on the top half my cock grew. Her cheeks slowly caved in until they had collapsed as far as they could go. And still she sucked me still harder. 

We both moaned. I don’t know which of us did it first, but I do know there was something in Lara’s moan made me think she was enjoying the blowjob even more than I was. 

The suction continued to grow until I felt the head of my cock get pulled toward the back of Lara’s throat. The blunt, rounded head took on a more pointed shape, like the nose of a missile. Then Lara began licking the head. Her tongue swirled and danced and stroked and licked and tasted the head of my cock. 

I leaned back against the wall, listened to Lara’s murmurs of pleasure, concentrated on her tongue swirling around me, enjoyed the aroma cocktail, and I realized: as swollen as my cock was from all the fucking and now the sucking, I still hadn’t felt Lara’s teeth touch me. 

On my left, two framed photographs hung on the wall. The shots were taken during the filming of the show, with Lara in her role of assistant District Attorney Helen Gamble, dressed in a dark suit, caught in mid-speech and looking earnest. The backs of the heads of the jurors were in the foreground. I had seen Lara doing scenes like that plenty of times, and now, icy cool Helen Gamble sat before me, stark naked, face down in my crotch, sucking my dick and grunting softly at the pleasure of doing it. 

Thinking that, pressure built up between my balls and my asshole. My cock had been stiff for almost two hours without a rest, and I wondered how much semen my balls had created during that time. 

Almost as if she were reading my mind, Lara fondled my balls and gently massaged them as though trying to coax them not to hold back anything when they sent their load on its way.

Something in her caressing drove home the aura of self-assured femininity that flowed from her, and I realized that from the moment I first laid eyes on her dancing at the ball, she had radiated an air of quiet but unshakable confidence with her every word and every action. The more I thought about her natural sense of poise, the more my orgasm threatened to explode.

I leaned forward and reached under her, cupped her small, pointy breasts, warm and soft, feeling her hard little nipples press against the palms of my hands.

Lara moaned in pleasure as she began bobbing her head on my cock. She pulled up until her lips hit the ridge formed by the back of the head and then lunged down to within two inches of my pubic hair, all the while maintaining a fierce suction while her tongue alternately danced around the head trying to seduce my body into giving away my semen and then lashing the head, trying to beat my cock into surrendering my cum to her mouth.

The feeling of pressure spread to just above my pubic bone, and it quickly seeped down the length of my cock and back towards my asshole. The heaviness built, creating a sensation similar to, but noticeably different from a full bladder. All the muscles around my pelvis began to tingle, getting ready to clench tightly and send my cum on its way.

I stopped fondling Lara’s breasts and pulled her up off my cock and then pushed her away.

“Hey!” She sounded offended, but she was smiling at me. “What’d you do that for?”

I slumped back against the wall, and pressed the fingers of my right hand along the vein under my cock. A big drop of fluid appeared at the slit. The drop was clear on the surface but there was a swirl of milky white at the center. 

When Lara saw it, she laughed, “That was close.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” I said. “I thought I’d draw it out just a little longer for you.”

She laughed again, and said in a playful tone of voice, “That was very considerate of you, wallflower: sacrificing your pleasure for me. After all, how much could you be enjoying your first blowjob in five years?” She laughed again, leaned forward, and scooped up the drop of pre-cum and sperm on her middle finger and put her finger in her mouth. She moved her tongue around her mouth, making sure she got the full taste. “So you want to stall for a little time?”

Delighted by her good-humored reaction to my unexpected move, I nodded.

She leaned away from me and balanced the chair on its back legs. As she spread her legs I instinctively looked down to her bush. 

“What are you looking at?” I glanced up in time to see her putting the cigarette between her lips. She continued to smile and she dragged on it.

“Your shamrock,” I lied, gesturing at her tattoo just to the upper-left of her bush.

“Liar.” She blew a stream of smoke towards the ceiling while still smiling. “Do you want to see my pussy?”

Half embarrassed and half delighted at her playful nature, I nodded.

“Don’t nod. Say it.” She liked being in charge. “Say it and I’ll show you.”

Embarrassed and excited, I said, “I want to see your pussy.” 

She set the chair down on all four legs, slid forward to edge of the seat, and then tilted the chair back again, spreading her legs wide. Her outer lips were still flushed, swollen and damp. The insides of her thighs were still red.

Suddenly, I felt self-conscious and I couldn’t look.

“What’s the matter?”

“I can’t look knowing your watching me.”

For a few moments she stared at me, her head cocked to the side and once more, nibbled at the inside of her cheek. She held her cigarette beside her right ear, flicking her thumb back and forth across the filter causing the stream of smoke drifting towards the ceiling to keep breaking up.

Then she dragged deep on her cigarette, spreading her fingers wide and moving her hand dramatically far from it, her polished nails catching the light.

She smiled softly to herself and nodded her head: she had made a decision. She set the chair back down on all four legs and leaned towards me. “Ready for the big finish?”

I nodded and Lara scooted the chair forward blew a long stream of smoke on my cock.

She smiled, licked her lips, and bent towards my groin and kissed the head of my cock. Her tongue gently probed at the slit, maybe trying to taste a little more cum. Keeping her lips tightly pursed, she pressed her head down, her lips forming a snug ring that slid over the head, onto the shaft and more than halfway to my balls.

Feeling that unyielding ring squeezing down my shaft made me grip the edges of the desk, trying to maintain some sense of self-control. She began sucking the air of her mouth and the insides of her cheeks gripped the sides of my cock and her tongue rocked and rolled against the bottom of the head.