Chicken Soup for the Soul

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Sexy Aussie actress/director seduces black actor.
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brethard
brethard
195 Followers

Thomas Morton pulled into the driveway of the beautiful Virginia home. It looks almost as good as mine, he thought as he stepped out of his powder-blue Mercedes.

He rang the doorbell and waited. It was 3:00pm in the afternoon on a gorgeous autumn day. Thomas looked at the cloudless sky and took a deep breath. The air was so crisp.

Suddenly, the door opened.

"Hello!"

Robyn Sheehan looked so hot in person, much hotter than she appeared in her films. Thomas was stunned by the deep blue of her eyes, her vibrant long red hair tied in a ponytail, her lightning-white skin, her soft freckles.

"Hi," he replied.

"Do come in," she gestured as she shut the door. "Let me take your jacket."

Robyn's eyes lit up as Thomas removed his blue jacket. The muscles on his arms were clearly visible through his white dress shirt; he had just finished playing a boxer in the drama "Fight Song," and Robyn imagined what it would be like to see his shirt off, as well as the rest of his clothing. As she hung up his jacket, she glanced at his seated image in a nearly mirror. He was gorgeous-shiny dark skin, full lips, closely-cropped black hair. She thought about what it would be like to kiss his smooth cheek and feel his big hands on her bare ass.

She made sure to subtly push her ass in his face while she adjusted a pillow on her chair before sitting down across from him. She noted the slight satisfied smile on his face.

"So, how are you doing?"

"Pretty good. I must say I really love your script."

"Thank you. I worked *really* hard on it."

"You clearly love that book."

"Well, there's so much truth in it."

Thomas nodded. Robyn was obviously fascinated by civil-rights issues; she had just won two Oscars for writing and directing "Norman," a biopic of fellow Australian Peter Norman, who supported Tommie Smith and John Carlos in their famous protest at the 1968 Summer Olympics and faced tremendous public scorn for his actions. Now, she had just written a screen adaptation of "And Then We Heard the Thunder," the 1962 novel by John Oliver Killens about an African-American soldier facing racism in World War II. Robyn wanted Thomas to play Solomon "Solly" Saunders, the soldier and protagonist; in addition to directing from her screenplay, Robyn would play Celia Blake, an Australian nurse who treats and falls in love with Solly while he is recuperating from injury in the South Pacific.

"I loved that book, too. Read it in high school."

"Did you ever think that there'd be a movie about it?"

"No, because they didn't really make movies about black people in World War II. There was 'A Soldier's Story,' that's about it. They didn't make 'Saving Private Robinson,' you know what I mean?"

"I know-it's such a shame. I loved 'A Soldier's Story'-Denzel was so good in it. You know the cinematographer on that was an Aussie?"

"For real?"

"Yeah. Russell Boyd."

"Wow. Well, he sure knew how to make black people look good."

"Indeed," Robyn replied, with a slight smile.

Thomas paused, and pursed his lips.

"Well, look...here's the thing. I've got everybody in my ear-my manager, my agent, my friends-telling me not to do this. They think no one's gonna see it, that this is gonna kill my career. They keep saying that people will only go to see a World War II movie if white people are the heroes. So...I'm kinda..."

"Hesitant?" Robyn asked, feigning disappointment.

"Well, kinda."

Now, Robyn pursed her lips. "I just wish I had a way to change your mind."

Thomas smiled. "Can you promise me people will go see it?"

"Well, no...but I can promise you it will be a performance you'll always be proud of."

"Well, that's intriguing," he smiled.

__

Thomas was fascinated by the movement of Robyn's pale hands as they diced chicken, tomatoes and celery. He knew that he was in for a good meal.

"My grandmother taught me," she told him without prompting. "She would always say a good meal is a good deal."

"Great saying."

"I know."

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes...85 years young and still going strong. She always calls and asks when I'm coming back to Penrith...I don't have the heart to tell her, 'Not for a while!'"

Thomas laughed.

"Can you pass me the shells?"

He reached into the cabinet to pull out a box of pasta. As she poured the shells into the pot, he glanced at her cleavage. The freckles on her breasts were so beautiful, and he thought of what it would be like to kiss those freckles and lick her nipples.

"I know how you feel...I haven't been back home in years. Too many bad memories."

"Of Queensbridge? Isn't that where they say hip-hop was born?"

"Yeah, but a lot of things died there too...a lot of dreams. Thank God my dreams survived."

"I know," she replied. "OK. This just has to cook for a little bit longer. I know you're hungry..."

He glanced at her ass again. Not bad for a white girl, he thought.

"Oh, you have no idea."

She turned around and winked. Hell yeah I do, she thought...

__

"Oh God, this was delicious," Thomas told Robyn as he drank the last of the broth from the bowl.

"Thank you," she replied.

They were sitting next to each other on her couch. It was now 6:00pm, and the sun was just about to go down. Robyn marvelled at the stunning sunset; Thomas marvelled at how the sun illuminated her red hair.

Suddenly, he looked at her left ankle.

"What is that?"

"Oh, the tattoo?"

She pulled up the leg of her jeans and showed the tattoo to him. It was a queen of spades.

"Do you like it? I got it just a few weeks ago..."

Thomas was speechless.

Robyn winked. "I like it."

"You...you know what that means, right? The tattoo?"

"Yeah. It means I like Milo."

"What?"

"It's a chocolate drink in Australia."

"Oh. Well, I-"

Thomas froze as Robyn's face turned red with laughter.

"You mean..."

"Yeah."

Robyn gently placed a pale finger on Thomas's crotch, tracing the outline of his erect penis. She found his zipper and pulled it down.

"Oh my God," he whispered.

"Lay back, sweetie," she commanded, and the sound of the word "sweetie" in her Australian accent aroused him as never before. He reclined horizontally on the couch as she removed her white lace blouse, took off her white bra to expose her pale tits, and freed his huge, erect, veiny black cock, staring in delight as it vibrated erotically in the air.

She undid her ponytail, and he thrilled to the sight of long red hair covering his lower waist while her tongue pleased his cockhead. He had never received head from a white woman, and believed the stories about "white girl head game" were just exaggerations. Now, as she worked his cock, he found himself convinced that all those stories were true, and wondered just what the fuck he had been missing.

Soon, he groaned as cum pulsed from his balls right through his cockhead. Her hands and lips were coated with his cum. She smiled and winked as she stood up, wiping cum from her mouth to speak. "Just have to get a towel to clean this up, sweetie. Stay right there."

She turned around and removed her jeans, exposing her white panties. Then, she grabbed the sides of her panties and pulled them off, exposing her sexy round pale ass to his eyes.

She seemed to know that black men craved white women with asses like black women, and she let him gaze for several seconds before turning around to see him becoming aroused again. She shook her head, laughed and walked away.

As Thomas waited for Robyn to return, he thought to himself: damn, she made me dinner and she made me cum. It's the least I can do, right?

Robyn came back and wiped up the spare semen. "Such a cute little cock, sweetie," she cooed, holding the shaft. "Well, not little, but you know what I mean..."

They stared at each other, his brown eyes meeting her blue. Robyn couldn't resist smiling again. She knew he was hooked-and she also knew that when it came to starring in her movie, he was now on board.

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