Unwrapping Beth
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Unwrap Party free porn video
1: Dancing Dirty
The wrap party had been going for hours, and Ben sat apart from it. He had made a vow this year not to get involved with anyone -- not to have a "show romance" -- and he had kept it; this made him feel both proud and obscurely sad. So after the speeches had been made, the gag gifts had been presented (Ben got a gold star with a Groucho nose and glasses drawn on it), and most of the cast and crew had split up into smaller groups, Ben headed for the spare bedroom in the basement where the coats were stored: Another year done.
Before he reached the stairs, someone touched his shoulder; it was Sarah. She was drinking a beer. She hates beer, he thought. Ben looked around for Richard and didn't see him. Sarah's face was flushed and the roots of her blonde hair were dark with sweat. "Come on, Ben. We're doing the Purity Test."
Ben flicked her a tired smile. "Wish I could," he said, "but you know, you do the Purity Test, next thing you know you're talking dirty. Pretty soon everyone's feeling good and excited, then someone kisses someone else, and an orgy of mad sexual abandon follows." Ben shrugged. "Well, that could lead to dancing, and I'm a strict Baptist..."
A potato chip bag flew past him. Sarah asked, "What was your score?"
"I'm not telling."
There were some boos and a flurry of commentary:
"Fifty, Ben?"
"Remember, he's eaten a lab dissection."
"He's dated Pidge -- there's ten points."
"I bet a hundred. He just talks a good game."
"All technicalities count, you have to be still-born to get a hundred. But Sarah's hoping to break ninety."
Lois, who had worked props, said, "I got ninety-six." It might have been a boast.
Ben shook his head. "Infants. I'm dealing with a bunch of infants."
"Isn't that worth points?" someone asked. General laughter. Most of them turned away to the skinny redhead who was reading the questions.
"Aw," Sarah said to Ben. "I was looking forward to hearing you talk dirty." Her voice was brittle and too bright: she was drunk, far drunker than Ben had ever seen her, and Richard was nowhere in sight. Ben touched her arm. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she said.
He shrugged. He could hardly force her to talk about her problems. Probably it was just exhaustion and alcohol; this had been a rough run, and everyone was coasting on the dregs of their adrenaline. He gave her a quick hug, and she whispered in his ear, "I got eighty-three. Now you tell."
He whispered back, "Sarah, darling," and swatted her blue-jeaned bottom. "I'm not telling."
With a small shriek, Sarah pulled away. "That's not fair! Tell me what you got!"
"No," he said, and started to pick his way down the stairs, over the clots of boots and shoes. With every step, melted snow squished from the carpet and soaked his socks. He kept an eye out for his boots but didn't see them; probably at the bottom of the pile in the garage.
Sarah started after him, and then stopped. Richard was down there. Then she thought, Fuck Richard!
The music blaring from the dance room was not by a band Ben had heard of, and that made him feel old, too.
Was it that they were so young or was he really old? He was only twenty-five, but he sometimes felt like a hundred to Sarah's nineteen. More accurately, he felt... parental... to the rest of the cast and crew. He was not in the current of their lives.
It is a mistake, he thought, to get involved with campus productions after you leave campus.
The basement was dim; Ben stood there and let his eyes adjust. The doorway to the dance room exhaled hot humid air, ripe with sweat and pancake makeup. All the oxygen had been leached from the air and every breath was hot and empty. Ben pushed his way through the crowd on the dance floor to the coat room. By some miracle, he found his coat immediately and headed back across the dance floor.
A new song, a slow one, had started. He stopped short of bumping into a couple who were swallowing each other's tongue. They broke apart as he shouted, "Excuse me," and he saw it was Richard and -- what was her name, cookie-cutter beauty who'd had the ingenue role -- Crista? Richard and Crista nodded as if they'd heard his apology. Richard looked at someone over Ben's shoulder, looked at Ben again, and then almost pointedly returned to giving Crista her tonsillectomy.
Ben glanced behind him to see whom Richard had looked at, and Sarah was there. She looked pale and sweaty, like someone had punched her, and Ben was afraid she was going to throw up. He felt he ought to say something, anything, but he didn't. He stood there, feeling like an oaf.
Other dancers, aware of the situation, moved away, leaving Sarah and Ben in a small clearing on the dance floor. Then Sarah leaned forward and yelled in his ear. "Dance with me." Ben felt stupid and clumsy; he looked at the coat in his hand like he'd never seen it before. I promised myself I wasn't going to get involved. He mouthed the word "Baptist."
Sarah manufactured her best come-hither smile and began to dance for him. She closed her eyes and swayed to the music slowly, with her arms crossed tightly as if she was holding him, or wanted to hold him. One wine-coloured bra strap slid from under her tank top and down her left shoulder, in stark contrast to her pale skin. Sarah shrugged up that shoulder and pulled her arm through the loose strap. She easily freed her arm from the other strap. Ben thought he saw her breasts sway just a bit more-- Sarah crossed her arms again and the loose bra straps hung limply, limning the rings of perspiration on her tank top.
Sarah leaned her head back and with her arms still crossed brought her hands down: sliding them along the sides of her neck, her shoulders, cupping them over her breasts, and finally tracing her fingertips down her sides to her waist. She lifted her head and looked at Ben, drawing her hands across her hips, coyly hiding the crotch of her faded jeans, and stood there for a moment, still swaying her hips. A drop of sweat ran from her hairline, down her cheek and her neck, and finally rolled between her breasts. Sarah kept her gaze on him and opened her hands. She lifted her arms to welcome him to her.
Sarah didn't look at Richard, didn't look at him at all, just kept staring at Ben. Please, Ben, please, she thought, I came down here for you. Come to me. Don't reject me.
I don't want to get involved, Ben told himself. I don't want to be used. Her arms were out to him. But she's my friend. She's hurting.
He held his coat out at shoulder height and dropped it -- the grand gesture. Someone threw his coat to the side of the dance floor; Ben scarcely noticed. He moved towards her, keeping his movements simple because he didn't want to spoil her moment by looking stupid.
He placed his palms against her hips and matched rhythms with her (a moment of stumbling) and then held her tightly, feeling the geography of her under her clothes, all hot damp with sweat: shelf of hip, warm curve of belly under his thumbs while his palms found her ribs. He barely brushed his fingertips across her breasts. Beneath the music, he was aware of people murmuring. The ribbed fabric of her tank top made his hands tingle; her nipples stiffened under his touch.
Ben slid his hands along her sides and behind her, pulling her against him, feeling her breasts warm and firm against his chest. She dropped her hands to his ass so she could pull his hips in tight. His right thigh fitted nicely between her legs; Ben was short for a man and she was tall for a woman: they were the same height. He slid one hand down her back, scraping his thumbnail along the cloth, until his thumb was hooked comfortably in the waist of her jeans. He twined the fingers of the other hand into her short damp hair. He smelled her, musky and warm, and when he pulled back to look at her he saw her eyes were half-closed, and he saw another sweat droplet glide down to the scoop of her tank top. Ben stooped slightly and caught it on the tip of his tongue, then retraced its path as far as her earlobe.
Sarah shivered. Beneath her half-closed lids she glanced at Richard and caught him watching. Richard did his best to look nonchalant as he nestled himself back into Crista's arms and tucked her head against his neck. Sarah moved her hips into Ben's, trying to discover if he was hard or not. There was a satisfying lump there, but sometimes Richard had seemed hard when he was only wearing tight bikini undershorts. She nipped one of Ben's earlobes and then traced the outline of his ear with her tongue.
Ben wasn't really hard yet -- he was thinking too much -- but the feel of her tongue in his ear made him very... aware... of his cock. He massaged her neck with one hand and ran the fingertips of his other hand back and forth from the nape of her neck to the top of her jeans. The up-and-down motion pulled the thick center seam tight against her vulva and then let go. Her panties stuck every time her jeans pulled away and she felt the pricking heaviness in her groin. She couldn't remember ever feeling this wet. It's the beer, she thought. I ought to drink more often.
Ben rubbed his cheek against the side of her face, moving to kiss her ear. She savoured the feeling of his stubble and decided she liked it. Richard never had stubble, Richard couldn't grow a beard. Ben traced his tongue along the rim of her ear and then breathed gently on it. The hot-cold sensation made her shiver again.
She leaned back just a bit so her weight was on his thigh and rocked her groin against the muscles of his leg. He moved his hips with her, his buttocks hardening and relaxing under her hands, and with every gentle thrust her nipples just grazed his chest. She tilted her head so she could see his crotch (growing) and she looked up at Ben through her bangs. She slowly ran her tongue around her open mouth and Ben felt a rush of passion. Once again he realized that the sexiest thing in the world is a partner who wants you.
Her leg brushed against his hardening cock as she rocked, and he was going to have to adjust its position soon or it would be uncomfortable. For now, he pulled her head forward and they kissed for the first time. Ben made no attempt to enter her mouth with his tongue; this was her show, and it had to happen at her speed. Her eyes were closed, so he closed his too.
Her lips were full and soft (Ben thought absurdly of pillows) and salty. He knew not to make his mouth hard, and she pulled his lower lip into her mouth and scraped the sensitive inside with her teeth. Her tongue followed along, exploring, when he relaxed his jaw. She was surprised at how insistently his tongue met hers and she opened her mouth wide to let him in.
Ben tasted beer and something sweet in her mouth as he explored. It felt very intimate, more intimate than the dance. He stroked her buttocks and lower back, and each time he came to her waist the motion of his hand pulled more of her tank top from her jeans. When her top came free, he slipped his hand under and rubbed her warm damp skin, running his hand along the course of her spine. He stopped whenever he reached the strap of her bra.
Ben's hand felt nice on Sarah's back and she made a little contented sound into his mouth. She moved her hands up -- he had a nice tush, she decided -- to his head and spread her fingers in his hair. There was a draft of cooler air across her belly as the rest of her tank top pulled free from her jeans. Her bra was digging into the flesh of her back, so she twisted away from Ben and tugged at it through the armhole of her top.
She was suddenly aware of their audience, of Richard standing there, watching. She looked at Ben, whose hard-on was nicely, gratifyingly outlined down his leg, and she looked at Richard, who was tight-faced with his arm around beautiful Crista. She thought, I hope you're sorry. Richard moved his hand slightly to cup Crista's breast.
Biting her lower lip, Sarah reached up under the front of her tank top and unfastened her bra. The only resistance as she pulled it free was from the straps as they ran through the armholes. The lace scraped her hard sensitive nipples and she felt her breasts sag against her ribs, supported only by the tight top. She threw her bra away and turned back to Ben, ready to dance some more.
Ben watched her as she moved. She had been focused on him and he had liked the feeling, liked her attention and liked feeling special. Then her gaze suddenly moved from him to Richard and it was as if he had been shuttered out, used, made into a guy watching the stripper. He got angry because he had been so turned on, and when she turned back to him he pulled her close, smoothing his hands along her back until his fingers were curled around her shoulders and her tank top was bunched under her breasts. She could feel the buttons of his shirt sharp against her belly, and the sudden ferocity of his kisses was frightening. The bulge of his cock ground against her and there was a dizzying moment when she thought she might pass out. Ben squeezed her tight and then let her go.
Smiling, he hooked his index fingers in the front pockets of her jeans and started walking backwards, with the music. She didn't know what to do but follow him. He seemed suddenly dangerous.
Ben, dangerous? But he wasn't; that was why she had picked him, right? And he had to stop soon, he was about to back into the bathroom door, and there was someone in there.
He stopped when his foot hit the wall beside the door. He kicked the door with his heel, and the occupant said something unintelligible. Ben leaned against the wall and pulled Sarah so she fell against him, pressing her body into his. He nibbled her neck, licking his way slowly from the hollow of her collarbone up to her ear. His arms were behind her back again, reaching around so he could stroke the sides of her breasts, feather-lightly.
Her knees felt weak and her thighs trembled, either because of Ben or because she was suddenly sure the entire room could see her breasts. Ben licked her ear and whispered, "Just you and me. Nobody else. Nobody watching."
The bathroom door opened and the guy coming out said, "What's your hurry? --Oh." He stepped out of the way and Ben pulled her into the bathroom. Ben shut the door and Sarah heard cheering and applause from the dance floor.
2: A Lick And A PromiseBen let Sarah go and sat on the toilet, looking at her. She saw herself in the mirror and was astonished: she looked positively lewd. Her face was flushed, her breasts wobbled as she turned to look at herself and her nipples were clearly defined. "Oh, God," she said. "Ben, they're going to think we're, well, doing it in here."
He splashed some water on his face and said tiredly, "Let them think whatever they want. If you want, fake an orgasm, a good loud one. That should do Richard some good."
She remembered her intentions in time to leer at him. "Why should I fake one?"
"Oh, God." Ben ran a wet hand through his dark hair and left some of it standing up. "Sarah, this is your chance to save face without doing anything. You can have revenge on Richard, and still be innocent." Can't you recognize a noble gesture when you see one?
"Don't be a poop," she said. "I don't want to be innocent."
"I guess not," he said. "I guess not." He took her face in both hands and gently kissed each closed eye, the tip of her nose, and the corners of her mouth. Hungrily she opened her mouth and he covered it with his. She reached behind him and tugged his shirt from his jeans. His shirt was too tight for her to reach through and touch the bare skin of his chest so she leaned back to unbutton his shirt. After each button, she kissed his newly revealed skin. There was a diamond of dark hair in the centre of his chest; she opened her mouth and teased it with her tongue. When his brown nipples were bare, she alternated sucking each one, her fingers fumbling at the rest of the buttons while she felt his hard nipple against her tongue. She pulled his shirt off his shoulders as she ran her tongue from his right nipple down to his shallow navel.
He pulled off his shirt. She was kneeling in front of him, running her tongue around his navel while her right hand stroked his ass and her left hand rested almost shyly over his cock. The heat from her hand soaked through his pants and made his cock feel heavy and hot. He pulled up her top and watched as her back was exposed: pinched waist broadening to her shoulders, lovely curve of vertebrae down the center. As her top bound under her armpits she lifted her arms and reluctantly pulled away from him to let it come off. He pulled her to a standing position and leaned her against the wall.
Ben started kissing her ear again, feeling her bare breasts against his chest and she sagged against the cool wall. The hair around his nipples tickled her slightly, and she sighed. Ben moved down her neck, keeping his chest against her and enjoying the slightly sticky feeling of their bodies rubbing together. "I want you," he whispered.
"Yes," she said and rested her hands on his shoulders. He let her push him further down, down to her breasts. Her nipples were thick and blunt, and two or three long blonde hairs glittered around each pale, pale pink areola. He lifted one breast with his hand, feeling the soft heat of it, and stroked his thumb across her nipple. He licked it once quickly, then rubbed it again with his thumb while he licked around the other nipple. He blew on each nipple and took one gently between his teeth; she shuddered as he scraped his teeth along the puckered surface, pulling her breast away from her body. He let go and her breast jiggled once.
"Wubbeda," he said.
Sarah opened her eyes and looked down at him. "What?"
"That's the sound of jostling breasts. Wubbeda. A lover told me once."
"Were hers big?"
"Yes." He added, "But not very sensitive. Do you like this?"
"Oh, yes." She felt the stickiness between her legs every time she shifted her legs, every time she took a deep breath. She felt like she could take anything inside her, and there was a twitchiness, a movement, building in her hips, but she also felt a lassitude. So long as Ben wanted to kiss her and touch her breasts, she was willing to stand there.
He stood and they kissed again for some length of time. His cock bumped against her, and Sarah started to move her hips again, trying to get his hard cock to press against her just right. She thumped against the wall, and Ben placed his hands on her hips and knelt before her, his stubbled cheek rubbing against her as he slid his mouth to her waist. When his beard brushed her breasts she felt an urgency, as demanding as a sudden itch.
Ben fit himself at the juncture of her thighs and rubbed his face against her crotch. His broad forehead pressed her zipper into her slit and she jumped as though she'd been given a shock. She ran her hands over his head frantically, trying to touch all of him. He mouthed her, scraping his teeth along the denim and each time the thick seam was pressed against her clit she shuddered.
"I don't want to wait any more," she said.
"Me neither," he said. He stopped for a moment to be extra steady as he cinched in her jeans so he could unfasten the button. The zipper fell down as he peeled back the flaps of her jeans and he could smell her, sweet, musky, hot. Her panties were silky and through the lace at the top he could see auburn curls. He licked the panel of panties and she moaned.
He skinned her jeans and panties down to her ankles and licked her once, tentatively. Her pubic hair was tangled in a peak just above her clit, and he stopped for a moment. She spread her knees so he could get in more easily.
"Hair on my tongue," he explained, and tried to scrape the hair onto his teeth where he could pluck it off with his fingers.
Sarah laughed, watching him.
Finally Ben got the hair and presented it to her; she accepted it and as he knelt before her again he said, "I'm swallowing the next one."
He used his fingers to separate her lips and then ran his tongue along the length of her, marvelling how her taste changed from point to point: sharper, almost acidic, near her vagina; thicker and muskier near her clitoris.
He explored her with his tongue, using broad slow strokes: plump outer lips and long inner lips; large hooded clitoris -- she moaned as he moved his tongue across it -- and the tight entrances to anus and vagina.
He cupped his hands around her buttocks and pulled her closer to him, so his tongue could just reach her asshole. He teased it with the tip of his tongue and she stiffened.
Sarah straightened and closed her legs slightly. "How can you do that? It's dirty."
"But did you like it?"
There was saliva between her buttocks; she could feel it. But it wasn't as gross as she had assumed. It felt... neat. "Yes."
"Then it's okay. But for hygiene's sake, we'll do it on the sink." He picked her up by her waist and hoisted her onto the edge of the bathroom vanity, beside the sink. Once he got on his knees, her pussy was at the right height for him to lick.
Once again he licked it all over, carefully. He drew her inner lips into his mouth and sucked on them, flicking his tongue over them. Sarah put her hands on his head to steady herself.
Ben started to play with her clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. She gasped suddenly and tightened her grip on him. He reached up awkwardly and pulled her legs over his shoulders. She rocked backwards and leaned against the mirror.
He alternated sucking and tickling her clit with his tongue, occasionally licking the length of her damp pussy.
Sarah could feel her insides melting, a huge warm pool inside her that threatened to overflow. She didn't know what to do about it: I'm going to come, she thought; how do I come? She tensed her muscles, then relaxed them, but there was still that vibrating energy throughout her muscles, waiting to be released. I want to come. I want to come so bad--
She seemed to have plateaued. Ben pulled back for a moment (another hair on his tongue; he tried to swallow it) and fitted his hand under his head, between her pussy and the counter. This time he avoided her clitoris, licking circles around it while his fingernail traced a line from her anus to her vagina. He lashed her vaginal lips with his tongue while his index finger teased her anus; her hands bunched into fists on his shoulders. He rubbed the entrance to her vagina, playing with the fringe of tissue. Then he slipped his finger in, slowly. She was very tight.
It didn't hurt; that was the first thing she noticed. It didn't hurt with Ben. Then she noticed how warm and molten it felt. He caressed her clit with his thumb and her hips and thighs spasmed once, but that wasn't enough; she was still full of this warmth and it wasn't going anywhere! Ben started to move his finger slowly in and out of her.
She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations. His thumb brushed her clit as his finger was buried, and other fingers touched her asshole. He touched something inside her, she didn't know what, and he bent and nibbled on the insides of her thighs. It still wasn't quite enough and she didn't know what she should ask for: Faster? Slower? More fingers? More stimulation? --but she already felt so sensitive she could scream!
She had to come somehow. She said, "I want you inside me," and she pulled him to a standing position.
His jeans had a button fly, and she almost screamed in frustration as she tried to get it open. He said, "Just a second," and pulled his hand from her to open it with the ease of practice. Sarah couldn't see his cock; it had escaped the elastic of his underpants and was down his pant leg. Now that his cock was about to be freed, Ben suddenly seemed shy.
"Birth control?" he asked.
"Pill," she said. "Richard and I--"
He interrupted. "Do you want a condom?"
She swallowed and shook her head. "I trust you."
"Trust you too."
"Okay," she said, and she was suddenly nervous. What if Richard had been right? What if she couldn't come?
Someone pounded on the door. "Come on out of there!"
Ben shouted hoarsely, "Use the upstairs bathroom!"
"Can't. Lois is being sick in there, and there's a bunch of people who're about to burst out here."
They looked at each other. Sarah snickered first and then both of them were laughing. They did up their own jeans; she pulled on her top and Ben pulled on his shirt but didn't bother to button it.
"My place or yours?" Ben asked her.
"My place is closer."
The people waiting to use the bathroom did not applaud; almost everyone else did. Sarah heard someone say, "Write that down as question five hundred and one."
She carefully guided Ben through the crowd so they walked past Richard and Crista. Richard put his arm out, blocking Ben's way. This close, he had to smell Sarah on Ben.
A frown passed over Richard's face like a cloud before the sun. Then: "Ben, buddy," he said, "I think a mistake was made here." He unpinned the gold star from Ben's shirt. "I think this is who deserves the real best actor award." He carefully pinned it to Sarah's top. "I figure she could've aced the scene in When Harry Met Sally... "
Sarah looked at him, her jaw trembling with tension. Her eyes glittered with unwept tears.
"Let me give you some advice," Richard said, laying an arm across Ben's shoulders. "Wool condoms. Otherwise it's frostbite city."
Sarah said, "Richard, you're such a dick!" and ran upstairs.
Ben thought, I've always wanted to say that. "Richard, Richard, Richard," he said, and he lifted Richard's arm from his shoulders as though it were a roadkill. Richard looked at him, waiting. "Or, more accurately, Dick, Dick, Dick."
"You asshole."
"I'm not the one who looks big, pink and wrinkled from here." Ben smiled lightly at Crista. "You haven't slept together yet, have you?"
"That's none of your business," Crista said.
"I didn't think so. Let me tell you what's going to happen." Ben didn't shout, but he pitched his voice to carry. "He's going to be impotent. He'll say it's the booze, but it's not. He's just scared; you're too good-looking. So it'll be a nervous fumbling that first time, and a quick ejaculation or none at all, and then he's going to look at you with big doe eyes and he's going to tell you he loves you. Maybe there'll be a little catch in his voice." Ben gave a breathy little sigh; he heard someone snigger. "And, Crista, it'll seem cute. Touching, even. But he doesn't love you, and he doesn't get any better."
"You're not very funny," Crista told him.
"No," Ben said. "Neither is he." Then he went out to join Sarah.
3: Cold And Warm ComfortsSarah was sitting outside, on the steps, huddled in the depths of her quilted parka.
I should have slapped him. I should have hit him. Why didn't I? Did I think I deserved that? Do I think he's right?
"How are you feeling?" Ben asked her.
"Shitty," she said. He smiled sadly and offered her his hand. She took it and pulled herself upright. They began to walk. Streetlights glittered off the snow. "What did you say to Richard?" Ben told her. "Oh my God!" she said. "That's exactly what happened the first time we slept together." She laughed. "You even got the little sigh right. How did you know?"
Ben said, "He knows a lot of reasons to hurt people, but the only reason he knows for being nice to them is to be in love."
Sarah looked at him. "I don't understand."
"It's training. It's socialization. Hurting people is okay, so you learn how to do that. Being nice to people isn't okay unless you're in love, so you learn to be in love."
"Ben, you don't believe that."
"I don't know. I believe in hypocrisy. I believe some people can't admit that they're just horny, they've got to dress it up with love."
"Maybe."
Ben shrugged. "Maybe not. I was guessing. I do a lot of guessing. Might just be self-deluding bullshit on my part, too."
She said carefully, "I think he thought he loved me."
"Did you love him?"
"I don't know." She squeezed Ben's arm. "At least he won't be able to do that to Crista, he'll be too self-conscious."
"You're taking this awfully well."
"Am I?" she asked him. "I don't know. I never got dumped before."
"I've been dumped. Trust me; you're taking this well."
They walked in silence until they came to Sarah's door. She turned to face him.
"Do you want to come in?"
"Do you still want me to?"
"Oh, for God's sake," she said, and she kissed him. Her lips were cool, though her cheeks were still flushed by the beer. They kissed tentatively at first, as though the entire scene on the dance floor had been the show, and this was the first rehearsal.
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