Chapter 1

My job as a stage manager is extremely diversified. That's what I like about it. That, plus you get to meet and work with a lot of stars. Just being around them makes you feel a little famous, too. I still find it hard to believe that little Sandy Buchowninski, from Kankakee, Illinois is rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. It blows my mind. And I think changing my name to Sandy Buck got the whole thing started. In this crazy world of theatre, you have to have a name that's easily remembered because no one will bother otherwise. When you begin to make it, you can always go back to the original and get by with something like Schwarzenegger or Steenbergen.

But my job can also cause a lot of problems. It demands a lot of my time, seven days a week, and is a never ending source of headaches. That's how I lost Rob, my former lover, a plumber with his own lead pipe. His jealousy ruined a good thing. My pussy drools just thinking about him, about his ten-inch prick and smooth body. But that's the past. I have to forget him and find new crotches to conquer.

I'm currently in rehearsals for the Broadway revival of Gypsy, and there are a million and one things remaining to be done. Costumes heads the agenda today, and that's where I'm headed now. Somehow the schedule got flicked and our leading lady couldn't make her costume fitting. Being her same size, they're going to fit everything on me. Just another snafu on my already too long list.

Randy Stevens, our costumer, wasted no time in getting down to work.

"Strip it, sweetums. Pop out those tits, and lay bare that bush. I've got work to do," he said before I could even say hello.

"I'm not getting naked in front of you."

"Gotta. Gypsy Rose Lee was a stripper, right? And her costumes gotta be skin-tight, right? So, quit arguing and strip. Would music help?"

"No it would not! I'm not stripping," I said as emphatically as I could.

"I don't need this crap today. Look. The bras are built into the dresses and I'm not having panty lines show through my costumes. How tacky! Now, just be a good girl and get undressed. Throw modesty to the wind, my dear. Go ahead. Make my day," he said, lowering his voice three octaves to match Clint Eastwood's.

It was obvious Randy was not about to budge, and my protesting was getting nowhere. I gave in, had to or my schedule would never recover.

Randy stood me in front of a full-length mirror with a rack of costumes stretching endlessly next to it. The light sparkled off sequins and silks, satins and taffeta, all formed into elegant gowns to be stripped away to the strains of "Let Me Entertain You."

Randy fiddled with his costumes, ignored me, while I peeled of my sweater and jeans. I hesitated in my bra and panties, then choked back my modesty. I stood in front of the mirror, stark naked, a touch of excitement racing through my flesh. Randy was obviously a fag, and could probably care less about my nude body, but he was still a man and my Kankakee shyness raised its imposing head.

I placed my hands on my hips, just to make it appear my nudity didn't bother me in the slightest, and glanced over my figure. I was impressed, looked at it as though for the first time. My firm breasts rounded to just the right size, not too small, not too big, larger than a handful but not overpowering like Chesty Morgan. And I'm thankful that my nipples are surrounded by a light red circle rather than the too pale pink or the dark brown of some women. Turning to the side, I loved the curve my fits made from nipple to chest, said a silent "thank you" for having the sense to never go braless. Too many women have sagging, flattened breasts from not wearing a bra, a heavy price to pay for making a statement.

Dark hair protruded between my legs, turned my body back to face the mirror. My slim waist exploded around sensuous hips with a brown, curly triangle perched right on top of long, slender legs. I had the body to be a star, if I could only sing! But I shouldn't complain. A lot of starlets have to buy what I possess naturally. I couldn't help it as my hands slid into my crotch, pulled up on my soft pubes, exposed full, rounded lips which conceal a hot box of steaming sexuality.

"Pretty pussy," Randy said.

I had forgotten all about him, removed my hands immediately, and felt my face flush. He stood next to me holding out a black sequined gown.

"We begin with your basic black," he announced, handing me the dress. "Step into this and I'll make you a star."

I quickly put it on to cover my nakedness, to remove my embarrassment. The strapless dress was pretty loose and I had to hold it over my tits. Randy was instantly tugging and pulling, pinning me into the gown. The fabric hugged my curves, became a second skin. He was right, anything underneath would have ruined the sexy lines.

While Randy worked, I studied him in the mirror. He was a good looking guy, slightly built, with a black mustache that popped out against his pale skin. He didn't look to be very hairy, and his baggy pants hid any hint of dick. With my curiosity aroused by this fact, my imagination attached cock after cock until one seemed appropriate. I smiled when I had him properly fit. My curiosity then led me in a new direction. I wondered what it would be like to fuck a fag. Now, there was a challenge if ever there was one! The thought fanned my desire, turned idle curiosity to sudden lust.

"Next," he said, hold a light blue satin gown.

I started to unzip the black dress, but was quickly stopped.

"No, no, sweetie. Over the top. She's going to have to undress if she ever hopes to make her costume changes on time."

I slipped the blue dress over my head. Randy's hands were once again all over me, fitting one dress over the other. It covered it completely, and no one would ever guess there was another dress beneath. His touch was strangely stimulating. It wasn't at all what I had expected. It was firm, knowledgeable, sensuous, gave every indication that Randy was all man.

A red taffeta gown came next, right over the other two, and was cut fuller and more flowing. I stepped into it, pulled it up, and once again, the other two dresses were completely hidden.

Randy had more difficulty fitting this third dress, the others wanting to bunch up in all the wrong places.

"Damn it. Stupid sequins. Fucking things are catching on everything "

Randy dropped to his knees and raised the red taffeta over his head. His hands shimmied up my bare legs, reaching for the black dress. A strange thrill leapt into my working crotch and turned to heat as his palms caressed the cheeks of my ass.

"What are you doing down there?" I asked. "Straightening you out," came the muffled voice. "Sure is dark in here. I can barely see your pussy. But not to worry, I have a wonderful sense of smell."

"Randy Stevens You come out of there right --"

I stopped mid-sentence when I felt Randy's nose press against my cunt. His hot breath tumbled over my thighs and two dresses were suddenly bunched around my waist. Without thinking, my legs parted to open my snatch to his mouth. His tongue dove in between my hairy lips, produced a pleasurable gasp as my pussy surrounded his invasion. My eyes were wide with shock. I had thought Randy to be gay, yet here he was, his mouth clamped firmly onto my pussy. So much for a challenge here.

"Oh, Randy Yes. Eat my pussy," I said above him.

His tongue bathed my clit, circled it lovingly before penetrating my pouting hole. Once. Then he licked like he was devouring an ice cream cone, savored the taste of my juices in long, upward strokes. He left my cunt when he reached the top, rushed back to its beginning to lick again, slurping his drooling mouth over quivering flesh. I rocked in rhythm to his foreplay, anticipated his dive into my awaiting interior.

He played me like a delicate violin, warming me up before the concert. He nibbled on my lips, brushed my clit with his mustache, worked his fingers into my asscrack to toy with my tightened asshole. Heat seared my stomach as it rose up from a cunt on fire. This was no time for a snack. My pussy was ready to be eaten

"Make me cum," I shouted. "Fuck me with your tongue "

My hands massaged my tits through three layers of fabric, tried to pull them from my chest as Randy continued his attack on the outside of my screaming crotch. An orgasm was somewhere inside me, I felt the restless stirrings, knew it would happen if Randy would just get his maddening tongue where it belonged. But he refused, kept up the tantalizing torture, nipped at the edges of my taco without getting to the meat.

"If you don't get inside that box, I swear I'll squeeze your fucking head off "

He did just the opposite, his tongue snaking down the inside of my thigh. The tingle claiming my body landed dead center in my cunt, set it trembling like an earthquake. My legs wobbled and my pussy snapped. His tongue, his lips, his nose, investigated every inch of my thigh but stayed well away from my sopping snatch. He made me angry. Rob would never have teased me so, always drove his flaming pipe directly up my cunt in a searing blast of claiming lust. That's what I was used to; that's what I wanted now. Fill my box with hot, pounding meat (cock or tongue made no difference), just get in and pump me into divine orgasm.

My hands left my tits, raised the red taffeta, and latched on the back of his head. I forced his face into my cunt, buried his nose between my grasping lips. He didn't resist, opened his mouth, and finally jabbed his hard tongue into my anguished hole.

"Yes Yes At last Oh, God, Randy. Fuck me Work that tongue like a stiff prick. Make me drench your face in hot cum"

With first entry, I knew right where my orgasm was. It sat on the edge of freedom, splashed the fast tastes into my wonderful alive cunt. My hands returned to my tits, heightened the enjoyment of man eating pussy. I skewered myself on his tongue, did all the work, knew what it took to get me off. Randy could go along for the ride, didn't have to do any more than keep himself inside my experienced, ready-to-explode pussy.

"Hang on, Randy " My legs clamped around his head, held him in place as my orgasm drowned him in the juices of love. His tongue went wild, careened within my flowing box. My eyes closed, my breath held in excruciating torrents of heavenly release.

My thighs quaked around Randy's head. His fingers struggled in my tightly clamped ass. He screamed up my cunt, his voice a muffled gurgle. I couldn't stop. It was the first multiple orgasm I had had in months. One right on top of the other. Three, I think, but who was counting

Randy finally worked his hands out of my ass and pushed his head away from my rampaging river. Panting and gasping, he fell to the floor, his head poking out beneath red taffeta, his face matching the color of the dress.

"You bitch. You tried to drown me "

"Serves you right. Taking something-without asking. Besides, what's a fag like you doing eating pussy in the first place?"

"Fuck that It's all an act. Puts the girls at ease. They'll strip for a fag. No threat and all that."

I laughed. "And the whole time you're getting a free look at all the tits and ass any man could ask for. Quite the scam."

"Whatever it takes. But it does have it's drawbacks. I'm forever locked into wearing baggy pants. It's the only way to hide a raging hard-on."

"Poor baby. Life is a bitch, isn't it?"

I spent the entire day jumping in and out of costumes, alternating between ultimate dress-up and naked reality. Randy made no further advances, nor did I. We both seemed content with one dose of sex for the day.

We finished up about 6:30, just enough time to get back to the theatre for a seven o'clock meeting with the show's producer, a meeting I was not looking forward to.

Just before opening the door to leave, Randy stopped me, an odd look claiming his face.

"In the name of fair play and equality, don't you think you should return my earlier favor?" His eyes stared into mine as he loosened his belt and dropped his pants to the floor. His bikini briefs stretched under the pressure of a protruding erection.

"Randy, I really don't have the time," I said, staring at his straining briefs.

"Sure. You got off and that's all that matters Well, what about me? What am I supposed to do? Sit in some corner and whack it off myself?"

"I have a meeting in half an hour." There was more to be said, but the words wouldn't come out. I watched him ease his shorts over crushed hair, down the length of his stiff prick, stop with the head of his cock caught on the elastic waistband. He shifted his shorts back and forth, rolled his head before slipping the briefs completely free. His cock sprang up like a catapult.

Randy bent over and removed both pants and briefs, stood in his shoes, socks, and sweat shirt, his lower half bared in a flagrant offering of sex. His hands lifted his balls, separated them slightly, then let them fall back against his legs. His cock hovered like a circling hawk in search of prey.

"It's yours for the taking," he announced, his hands opening to his sides to frame his groin. "And look at the time I've already saved you. Stripped and ready for action. What more could a girl ask for?"

It was a pretty cock. It would only take me twenty minutes to get to the theatre. And it seemed a shame to waste a good erection.

As I stepped forward, Randy grabbed his cock and held it out for me. My knees buckled, my mouth opened. Knees and lips connected simultaneously.

My hands slid up the back of his legs as my mouth slid down the length of his prick. I took all of him to get his pole moistened for the ride to follow. My throat opened to accept his full head, to give him the tight feel of confining flesh. Once all the way in, once I felt the downward slope of his ball sac on my lower lip, I pulled up to capture just the head between my lips, to investigate the deep channel with my tongue.

"Yeah, baby. Tongue that head. Make me drool into your mouth."

I tasted his fluid the first sweep my tongue made over his pisshole. Randy's cock was more than ready, and my mouth was willing to accept everything it had to offer, my lips gripping firmly to hot flesh, my tongue swabbing a healthy head, my teeth nibbling at sensitive skin stretched as tightly as a drum.

My hands skimmed over his hairless cheeks and forced themselves into his crack. They clenched his mounds in preparation for pumping his dick deep down my throat. But not yet. First I needed to return the teasing he had imposed on me, to make him squirm, to make him beg me to suck his meat dry.

I raised my head off his cock, let it flop into the cool air and lowered onto his nuts. I tweaked them with my tongue, then clasped onto the hairs with my lips, pulling, jerking his balls away from his legs. Releasing them evoked a quiet sigh from Randy's lips. I watched the hard nuts roll around in their protective sac before moving in to kiss his thighs, to deny his pounding cock as he had denied my pussy. Fair play, and all that.

"Suck me, Sandy. Suck my nuts. Suck my cock. Just suck me "

I locked one of his balls in my mouth and pulled, stretched it lower and lower. I was careful not to exert too much pressure, just enough to keep it captured, just enough to make it pleasurable. Releasing it at its lowest limit produced a moan with an intensity I hadn't heard from Rob or any other man. I did the same to the other nut and received the same delighted response.

"No more. My nuts are on fire! God, Sandy. Give a guy a break. My dick's going to explode without you!"

I took the warning to heart and raised up to clamp onto his rod. The heat nearly burned my tongue as I guided it into my throat. My fingers tickled his asshole, my tongue wrapped around his girth. I held his head in my throat, for just a moment, then let it slide back through my grasping lips. That's when I sucked in earnest, pumped his turgid tool full in and full out. The unique sounds of sucking cock resounded in my ears. The wet pop when it emerges from my mouth, followed by the fleshy gurgle as it slides back in, and all the subtle slurping noises in between. There are no other sounds like it.

I released one hand from his clenching ass and brought it around to cradle his balls, to roll them around in added stimulation to an already throbbing dick. His nuts were as hard and as hot as stones around a campfire.

Fondling his balls brought a steady stream of whimpers from Randy. I wanted to look at his face, to capture a glimpse of the pleasure I was creating. But I had to keep my eyes closed to protect them against the swirling mass of hair that met my face with each downward thrust. I increased the pressure upon his cock, keeping it within the confines of my mouth.

I sped up, my head a mass of writhing blonde curls. Working his cock, his balls and his asshole would surely produce the desired load of cum within seconds. That first taste of juices upon his cockhead told me I was in for a real treat. The acid taste of lubricating fluid always means sweet tasting cum. I couldn't wait!

When Randy's whimpers deepened and the space between each lengthened, I knew it was time. His body froze, his hips no longer forcing his cock down my throat, his ass clamped onto my fingers in a tremendous show of strength. I slowed down, knowing he was on the edge of spurting, and milked his cock in long, loving strides.

A few more strokes was all it took. With his cockhead exploding, I stopped, sucked and drank creamy cum in quick gulps. His semen was thick and as sweet as I had predicted. It shot directly into my throat and eased-down the channel in streaming smoothness. Before the last of it was lost forever, I pulled back to hold the spouting head just inside my mouth. His cum spilled onto my tongue, the final drops of exquisite ejaculation.

Randy went almost immediately soft within my mouth. I let his dick slip away as I savored his taste and experienced the sublime stickiness of man.

Randy managed to speak between gasps. "Nice. What a ... mouth. I think my dick is ... in love!"

I stared at his cock, his hands massaging the reddened flesh. It felt a little bigger than it looked right now, but it had gone soft. I'm forever jealous of the changes in a man's dick. A cock never seems to look the same way twice. That's not to say I'd ever give up my pussy in favor of a dick. No way! A pussy changes too, you just can't see it.

"Well, I hate to eat and run, but that's life in the theatre," I said, getting up from my knees.

"You have an open invitation for a return engagement any time you like."

"I like. We'll see. Just now I have a producer to meet. God, I hate begging for money!"

"Don't beg. With that mouth, blow for it!"

"If life were only that simple. I'd be a fucking millionaire! If I thought I could fuck my way to fame and fortune, I'd be flat on my back before you could say Gypsy Rose Lee!"

"Gypsy Rose Lee," Randy said with a big smile. "I said 'if'. Besides, you're only a costumer."

"Thanks a lot, bitch."

I left Randy puffing on his briefs to cover a limp but satisfied dick. I hailed a cab and had exactly nineteen minutes to make it to the theater.