Joy on Stage Part Ch. 03

"Good. At least we're clear why you left me alone." I finished button my shirt and I kept watch on him. He would look at me like a puppy dog, head bowed, eyes peeking up at me. "Why bother coming back? Why are you here now?"

Here he didn't hesitate. "Because I never stopped thinking about you. That's real—don't smile. Please. I'm not bullshitting you. I went back to Bobbie, I did, and I tried to be with her, but I couldn't stop thinking of you. I thought before how sweet you were, how cute, how smart, how you were always cool to me... even when I was an ass to you. But after I saw you, as much as it scared me, as much as I thought there was no way we could get over that and be together... I kept thinking about how sexy you are. I couldn't get the image of you out of my mind. I wanted you more than ever. I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Four weeks, I guess," I said, not wanting to admit I was thawing a little.

"It took me one week to make up my mind. I just took three weeks to get the nerve up to come back here."

"You didn't even call me to ask?"

"I called you. I did," he insisted. "Miller kept telling me he would pass my messages on..."

"Oh." That sort of made sense now. Fucking Miller. I was so mad at him I thought I'd never get over it at that moment. I took a breath and thought I at least owed Vaughn my own confession, not because he deserved it, but because if I was going to scare him off, I might as well do it quickly. "I fucked Miller."

"Ah," he said, as if I had told him I was thinking about buying a truck.

"I also fucked Chuck."

Vaughn nodded, his eyes on me. I had to admit, if he was going for unshakable, cool-with-everything boyfriend, he was spot-on. "Okay. That's... I understand."

"Understand what?" Vaughn shrugged his shoulders. "You know I fucked Walt Naylor, too? The star of the play?"

That didn't surprise him. "Bobbie called me up and said she heard you were his girlfriend now. I thought it was possible. I figured you would tell me if you and him were together."

"We're not together. I just fucked him. A few times."

Vaughn took a breath, the most stressed I had seen him, looked away from me, then he nodded.

"What do you think of me now?"

He sighed and said, "I think I'm an asshole. I think you're wonderful. I wish I had been less of an asshole and treated you more wonderful. That's honest."

I saw the clock on the wall and I realized we had been talking well after closing time. I started toward the door, which meant closing in on him, and I told him we could continue the conversation in the car. I needed a ride, he was here, Papa and Pam were probably gone.

We opened the door into darkness. I couldn't find a light anywhere. I propped open the dressing room door and took Vaughn by the hand so we wouldn't get separated as we made our way out. We found the stage and he didn't want to be up there, but I knew my way to the audience and to the house lights. I climbed down from the stage and found the switch, turning up the whole stage and the empty audience. Vaughn shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me a weak smile.

"You're not together with Walt Naylor anymore?"

"We were never really together. I was something for him to fuck for a while. He did. Then we were done." I told Vaughn to stay there, then left the theater, went up to the booth and found it unlocked, then adjusted some switches. I found how to turn up the stage lights and did so. I went back downstairs and turned off the house lights, letting me hide in darkness.

"Chelsea? Can we go to the car—"

"Do you want to fuck me, Vaughn?" I loved how the question roughed up his sensibilities; I waited for an answer, giving him no reprieve. I was happy that he couldn't see me in the darkness. "Vaughn, if you didn't come back to fuck me—"

"I love you," he said, then covered his face as he smiled. "Jesus. I didn't want to say it like—I didn't want to say it at all! Of all the relationships I've been in, I've never worried 'I want to fuck you' would scare them off. But I never said 'I love you.' I didn't even tell Bobbie that. Believe it or not."

I did feel more than a little disarmed. "You love me? But do you want to fuck me?"

"I love you and I want to fuck you," he said. Vaughn held his arms out to his sides.

"I believe at least one of those. I don't know about the other. So... I suppose you want me to forgive you..."

"I know it's a lot to ask. I don't expect—"

"I can forgive you," I told him, mostly to shut him up, and then I had to correct myself. "I can start to forgive you... but I want to see you. As you saw me."

I walked to his seat while he stammered out a question, what did I mean by that?

Sitting in the same seat in the second row where he first saw me, I leaned forward, elbow on my knees, and I announced to fill the house, "I want you to strip naked for me, Vaughn. Right there. At the end of the stage."

He protested, argued about someone walking in on us, told me that I was being unfair to expect him stand up there alone and do that, all of these things I didn't care about. I told Vaughn if he couldn't do this here, now, if he couldn't demonstrate how sorry he was before someone else came in the theater, then I had no reason to think he was sincere. Vaughn looked down at me and I could see the tension filling his body. He was considering it. I thought he would chicken out, maybe even admit he had only come to fuck me. What a disappointment that could've been.

Vaughn's fingers found the highest button on his silk short-sleeve shirt, working them free one after the other all the way down. He had a sexy way of doing it, made all the more enticing because he pretended it didn't bother him. The shirt slid off his shoulders, gathering at his elbows, and he worked one arm and then the other free, letting the shirt fall beside his feet. He stepped on one shoe and then the other.

"It's easier when you've got dialogue to distract you," I promised him, smiling a little too much.

"You made it look pretty easy," he said, giving me a slight smile that quickly faded.

Vaughn pulled his white T-shirt off and threw it aside, and that part was probably truly effortless on his part. He knew he had a beautiful chest, his pecs like perfect waffle squares, his pointed small brown nipples. I had seen them through his T-shirts before and found myself thinking about them. I forgot what a fuck-up Vaughn had been during the last few weeks, I almost instantly reverted back to the aspiring actress who couldn't have had a bigger crush on him. Was this really happening to me? Was I making him strip for me?

I wasn't just making him do it—he was doing it to prove he cared for me.

He stretched out his back, kind of egotistically showing me his toned belly and slim torso. This is why men are hotter than women, I thought to myself—no bags of fat to make him sexy to me. Nothing but muscle and beautiful brown skin.

He popped the button on his jeans and pulled the zipper open with one hand, then he looked up at me.

"Do I have to...?"

"Don't you dare quit now," I said, then I needed to draw in a breath. I think I had forgotten one.

There, he smiled. I saw it. He opened his jeans the rest of the way, uncovering a serious, well-defined bulge, and he pushed his jeans down his legs. I had tried stripping out of jeans at home in front of a mirror, it's difficult as hell, so I admired his resolve to take it slow and make it look as natural as possible. His thighs were huge beneath his shorts-like black briefs, they were like narrow tree trunks but far smoother. Vaughn stepped on one leg cuff and drew his foot out, then did the same to the other. He shoved his jeans aside as he stared at me. Was I going to make him do this? I only nodded, wearing my sultry smile.

Vaughn sucked in a breath, flattening his stomach all the more, then the thumbed his black shorts down. I saw the stalk of his dark cock, semi-stiff, and I had to take a breath. Then he pushed his underwear down more and it sprang free like a jack-in-the-box. It was long, I could tell that even with the thing seeming to aim at me. It was round and thick, a king-size candy bar with a large chestnut on the end. I leaned back in my seat and tried to control my breath, feeling wetter than I had been in days just from watching him. Vaughn stepped out of his underwear and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at me, obviously feeling self-conscious with his prick waving there for my amusement. Oh, it was glorious...

I got up from my seat and made my way to the stage.

"Can I... can I get dressed now?"

"No," I said. I unbuttoned my pink shirt and had it off as I climbed the stairs. Vaughn swallowed as I flung it to the stage floor.

"What, uh... what if someone comes in?"

"They'd better hurry or they'll miss the beginning of the show," I said. I unfastened my bra and scooted it from my shoulders until my breasts were bared. I got a rise out of his hefty tool. I gave him my most sincere smile as I unsnapped my jeans.

"This scene never looks good solo," I said.

I pushed my jeans down and started to wobble a little, but Vaughn came over to me and held me steady as I slipped one leg free, then the other. His hands were on my arms to hold me up, but when I stood up again, his hands fell to my hips. I stared into his eyes and I couldn't remember I had ever been angry at him. I would probably remember, and certainly remember why, but I wasn't prepared to completely throw away everything I felt for him. Especially not after I felt his hands on me.

Vaughn pressed close and kissed me. When he started to pull away, I took him by the back of his head and kissed him harder, sinking my tongue into his mouth, and loving the feeling of his saliva mixing with my own. A strand of spittle remained between us when we parted. I grinned.

"Let's move back the clock," I said, taking a cooling breath. "Tonight it's the Friday we should have had."

I had my hands on Vaughn's shoulders, moving him around as if we were a revolving celestial body, and then I walked him backwards to the bed. His calves hit it and he fell back, frightened but relieved when he felt the mattress beneath him. He gained confidence, reached out and touched the top of my panties, but I smacked his hand. Then, with his eyes on my body, I slid my panties down over my ass and hips, my thighs, knees, and to my feet. I rose again and smiled at him, stroking the close-cut side of my head above my ear.

"If a woman isn't meant to cum, why give her a clitoris at all?"

As I started to laugh, Vaughn stuck out his hand and placed his thumb on my clit. We were both pretty young, I was slightly surprised he could find it so quickly—Bobbie must have been luckier than I knew. I inched closer to him, feeling drawn to his gravity, and when I was close enough, his hand left me, only to be replaced by his mouth. I've always hated the term "eaten out"; there are any number of phrases that I find sexier, but the one that best fit what I felt at that moment was "tongue-fucking." Vaughn's slithering tongue cut through me, slathered my clit, slicked my lips, and stretched and pushed my insides until I was teary-eyed.

"Oh, V-Vuh-Vaughn..."

I kept intending to push him away, but I couldn't muster the strength. His hands grabbed each cheek of my ass and brought me closer and his hands felt so large, my ass so small. I called out his name again, trying to tell him I wanted to fuck, but his fingers, all of them at once, crept into the breach of my ass and touched me where I still felt virginal. I shivered, my belly knotted, and I came. Very hard.

"Oh, fuck me," I huffed out, leaning on him for support, then had to laugh.

"Whenever you want it," he said, looking up at me as he rubbed his lips clean.

Vaughn gave me a minute to recover, standing up and lifting me with an arm around my waist, then he crawled back onto the bed. My knees landed on either side of his hips and by then I was feeling a tsunami between my legs and could almost control my breath again. We exchanged a look and he knew I was ready for him.

The sphere on the end of his uncircumsized cock was brushing between my lips like an animal seeking a place to roost. I made a shrill squeaking noise and his hard hands squeezed my arms. It made me feel as if he was going to hold me down so I couldn't stop him, and it turned me on all the more. Then, he pushed into me, made me cry out with surprising pain, and then shifted himself around for a better impaling. His erection worked its way up into me and instantly had me ten minutes closer to another orgasm. I went stiff, asked him to take his time, and he slowly withdrew to enter me again. God, it was good. It had been long enough since I was fucked that I felt snap-tight on his cock, and it was bigger than any I could remember having. The only thing that even compared to Vaughn expanding my pussy was the feeling of his fingers intimately caressing my ass.

I turned my head as I rested with my forehead against his, studying the empty seats and imagining they were full of people. They would gasp. They would laugh uncomfortably. When we finished, they might applaud or they might leave in embarrassment; whatever they would do, I knew they wouldn't look away.

With another fast thrust, I came, crumbled onto him, and could barely support myself as he continued to pump away. My channel continued to seize on him as he pumped into me, but Vaughn wasn't ready to cut loose yet. I regained my strength, took slow breaths, and bucked my hips to ride him, trying to give him as much pleasure as I felt.

Finally, Vaughn lifted me and put my back on the bed, pressing one leg upward so far it hurt. I had never been much of a gymnast, but this I felt I could maintain long enough. He pressed hard against me, and I was shocked when I found him right on top of my clit, grinding against me with some bone giving him leverage in the perfect spot. Oh, what a fucking trick! I whimpered as I started to come again.

"You, too," I begged him, calling it out louder, sounding stupid and embarrassing, I'm sure, but Vaughn looked me in the eye and nodded.

He thrust into me three more times, quickly, then swore and tried to pull out of me. It was too difficult to slide himself out while still holding me up, so he spurted inside me, then shot his next two bursts on my bare pussy when he was finally out. The last of it dribbled on the bedsheet. I stared down at it, mesmerized, then I noticed Vaughn was looking at me and I smiled.

I propped my head up on my hand and began to smear his semen around my skin to thin it out. "Take a bow," I told him with a laugh.

It was never easy with Vaughn, I wish I could say it was. But it was good. The sex went through long periods where it was better than with anyone else. Occasionally we would try something more adventurous, but he always took some convincing, and he would often get jealous—as if I could love anyone but him. He wasn't the most secure guy I knew, not always the sweetest or the one who made me feel most attractive. But as long as we were together, there was no one else I wanted.

T.E.