1. A funny thing happened.. pt 2


    Date: 7/16/2016, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Blowjob, Erotica, Male/Teen Female, Author: Cynthiia23, Rating: 25, Source: sexstories.com

    allowed him to tell me the story. All of a sudden, and for no reason at all, I was scared. I didn't want him to regret having told me; I didn't want to lose what felt like...I don't know: his trust, this new—sort of—intimacy? I needed to say something; I needed to short-circuit this...retreat, or whatever it was. But of course I had no idea what to say. I interrupted him anyway. "Hey Sim?" "Yeah, Ginny?" "Thanks." That stopped him, for a minute anyway. "Thanks for what?" "For telling me. For being...I don't know...comfortable enough with me to trust me with it. I won't tell anybody, by the way." He did smile then, like he meant it. "I know. I just...I know. Wow, look at me! Comfortable around beautiful women." Then, in some strange accent I didn't recognize: "What'll the neighbors say? What'll the neighbors..." "What the hell was that?" "Bad Welsh dialect. It's a line from a play I did a few years ago. It just sort of came to mind. Anyway, about...what I told you: it really was no big thing. Just the timing was bad; you know? With Jeanette and everything. It got on top of me for a while, but I'm over it, I think. I hope." Bullshit. "Sure." I said. "This is one fucked up job we do, sometimes." Sim leaned in, put his hands on my shoulders, stood on his toes, and gave me a chaste little peck on the forehead. He smiled, made a kind of soft humming sound for a second, then said goodnight and walked back towards the house, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. I stood for a ...
    while feeling the warmth of his lips fading from my skin in the cold desert air. I wouldn't tell a soul that somebody had once told a man I liked, respected, admired that he had "negative fuckability." But I began seriously to consider a way to...dispute that casting director's assessment of my friend and colleague, Simeon Brownstone. bit.ly/HoTS3x 4. So now I had a new problem. I'd wanted to—what: sleep with, have sex with, make love to, fuck?—Sim Brownstone for some time now. Everybody knew it: Jack, Liz, Carolyn, Leko, the lighting designer's labradoodle. I knew it. I might not have admitted it, but I knew it. Sim didn't know it; "negative fuckability." It took me less than an hour to come up with this half-assed sort of psycho-sexual profile of the man; probably horseshit, but it made sense to me, and it helped me to focus my energies. The way I figured it, Sim Brownstone had spent the better part of his adult life in the entertainment industry, which meant he had lived, worked, and socialized with a disproportionate number of young, attractive, and physically fit people. By non-industry standards, Sim was a reasonably attractive man. But how often did he think in terms of non-industry standards? His job was, as often as not, to pretend to be a buffoonish, unattractive, disappointed, weak, inept and/or angry person for an extended period of time. That all had to take some kind of toll, right? And Sim had to have an ego. Nobody survives, much less thrives, as an actor without ...
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