tagMatureCommunity Theater Act 01

Community Theater Act 01

byMagna12©

I started acting in plays during my junior year in college. To my surprise, it was fun and exciting and a great way to make friends, and especially to meet girls. Acting was also a good way to explore emotions and to experiment with situations.

That next summer would prove my point about meeting women, about emotions and about the limits of experimenting.

I spent that summer at home, in my medium sized home city. The community theater always puts on two plays in the summer, one a comedy and one a drama. Eagerly, I tried out for the first one , a comedy, and was chosen to be in the cast.

The director was Mrs. Audrey Cunningham, a woman of a certain age, probably early fifties. She was tall and well preserved for her age, with long honey brown colored hair. She looked a little like an older Michelle Dockery from "Downton Abbey." When she wore skirts, I enjoyed admiring her shapely legs. Mrs. Cunningham's husband was a lawyer, and her daughter, who was a year older than me, and had been the Homecoming Queen at high school. Both Mrs. Cunningham and her daughter were real lookers.

Mrs. Cunningham had directed and starred in many plays, and she was a cornerstone of the community theater. She could be friendly, but she was also a strict no-nonsense director. Mrs. Cunningham had studied acting as a younger woman, and she tried to use professional theories to help our volunteer actors play their roles better.

In rehearsals, and in the four scheduled productions, I got to know Mrs. Cunningham and to understand how much she valued acting talent. I think she took a shine to me and was glad that I was part of the cast. Even though our age difference was maybe thirty years, I did find myself daydreaming sometimes about Mrs. Cunningham. A time or two, I massaged my nine inch cock while thinking of her, and shot off a few salutes to her.

Try outs for the drama were the week after the comedy was over. This was an edgy play about a marriage in trouble. The main parts were a wife and husband, several friends of the couple, and a younger man with whom the wife has an affair.

This was tricky stuff for our local audiences. An out-of-town and more experienced theater director offered to direct us if we would do that play. The community theater board couldn't pass up his offer, and auditions were scheduled.

I got the part of the romantic interest, the young man. That wasn't much of a stretch because I was by far the youngest volunteer available. No surprise there.

What was a surprise was the selection of the wife part. Several women tried out for it, but the director selected Mrs. Cunningham for the part. Needless to say, I was elated, and that night I "saluted" her again.

I've never had fantasies about older women. Heck, I was young and had been pretty lucky with the young gals, and my cock size didn't hurt. Evidently, I was a good bit larger than most boys, and benefitted from some word-of-mouth recommendations. Older women just hadn't been on my mind. But if an older woman could tempt me, it would be Mrs. Cunningham.

Rehearsals began in mid July for performances in mid August.

The first day, we read through our lines. There was sophisticated dialog between the husband and wife characters and among their friends, revealing the hardships and rewards of marriage and the challenges of fidelity and passion. As her love interest in the play, my lines were upbeat and positive as if to portray my character as a reasonable challenge to an established marriage of a beautiful older wife of a successful man.

The script called for kisses between us but also a prolonged bedroom scene. During the first reading, we skipped the action and only read lines. Still, I could feel my cock pulse and leak a bit as I read the stage directions about embraces, kisses, and being in bed with Mrs. Cunningham.

The next rehearsal was a walk-through to make our marks on the stage floor and gain an understanding of not only our positions but also to think about how the audience could best see us.

It was then that I first kissed Mrs. Cunningham. Of course, these things are largely faked, lipless kisses, or just brushes against lips. The first time, I let Mrs. Cunningham take the lead. She let her lips come close to mine, then backed away before touching. The director stopped her there, "Audrey, what kind of kiss was that?" he asked.

She looked surprised by his question. I suppose she had done many of these stage kisses before, and that was what she thought was proper.

"Try it again," the director called out.

My heart raced as Audrey, or I should say, Mrs. Cunningham, and I returned to our marks and said our lines. I didn't wait for her to take the initiative. Instead, I embraced her firmly, but did not touch her anywhere that would cause her to be alarmed, and pressed my closed lips to hers. I held it there for a few moments. No tongue, just lips pressed.

"That's better," the director called out. "If you don't believe it, the audience won't either."

Of course, bigger problems came with our bedroom scene. Fully clothed, we lay side by side and said our lines, such as, "Oh, we shouldn't do this," and other more passionate words. We began lying side by side under the covers, our bare shoulders showing while we talked. We were to kiss, then I was to lay on top of her to indicate sexual contact.

After the rehearsal, the director pulled us to the side, along with the set builders, and encouraged us to find ways to make the bedroom scene convincing. He said, "If you are embarrassed, the audience will know. So find ways to either fool the audience or to be genuine yourselves." Then he asked the construction crew to slightly angle and elevate the bedroom set so that the audience could see better.

This was a dual scene, with our set on one side of the stage and the husband in his living room on the other side of the stage, talking with a friend. The action shifted from the wife's bedroom talk and love making on one side to the husband's scene on the other side by raising and lowering the lighting of each side.

At the next bedroom scene rehearsal, the directed asked Mrs. Cunningham and me to dress so that our shoulders were bare. I just went topless and she wore sort of a tube top thing that bared her shoulders.

As we went through the scene, the sheet fell as I moved, revealing more of my chest and my back. Mrs. Cunningham remained mostly still, but occasionally her top could be seen. The director asked if she could try other garments that might work better. So at the next rehearsal, Mrs. Cunningham allowed herself to be seen in a bathing suit top. Of course, that concealed everything, but it was nice to see more of her figure and more of the shape of her breasts. She was careful only to remove her clothes at the last moment as she slid into the bed.

I also adjusted my attire for the bedroom scene. I thought about boxers, but the erections I got were too much for flimsy boxers. So I settled for nylon stretch athletic shorts. Even then, my cock pushed upward almost to the waistband. Night after night I lay on top of Mrs. Cunningham, and she had to know that she was making me hard as a rock.

After the first week of rehearsals, I asked Mrs. Cunningham if she would like to meet for coffee during the daytime to discuss our roles. She agreed, and we met at a local café.

I asked her, "How do you feel about our scenes?" "How do you think we can improve?"

She replied, "Considering the nature of some of our scenes and our lines, I think we've come a long way, don't you think?"

"Yes," I said, "I do think we have improved, but in college we have been learning about Method acting and various techniques to get into the characters."

Mrs. Cunningham said, "That's fascinating. I always try to find new ways to get into difficult parts, but frankly the type of plays we usually do don't require very strong efforts. This one does."

"Right," I agreed, "It depends on our words and emotions and actions and even our attire. Which do you think affects the others? It's not just our dialog. It's not just how we feel on stage. It's not just how we move. It's not just what we are wearing...or not wearing."

Mrs. Cunningham looked thoughtful.

I jumped in, "Here's what I think. I think that in this scene, since it's a bedroom scene where a beautiful wife is about to let a younger man have sex with her, our words and actions are defined by the playwright, but we need to bring our emotions to the surface, and maybe what we wear...or don't wear...can make the scene seem more real to us and therefore to the audience."

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"I'm just wondering if we should be less guarded about what we wear in that scene," I told her.

Again, Mrs. Cunningham looked thoughtful.

I continued, "For instance, I wear only my pants that are a kind of revealing underwear. You wear shorts or pants and the top. Do you think you would be more into the scene if you were to lie there under the sheet in your lingerie?"

Immediately, Mrs. Cunningham smiled, "You're leaning to be a good actor. Everything you've said makes sense. In fact, listening to you makes me understand that I haven't been very committed to my character and to her feelings. I think you're absolutely right, just thinking about wearing lingerie under that sheet in front of an audience is making me feel that character more."

"That brings up another issue," I said. "Has it occurred to you that your husband will be watching in the audience? Will that influence you?"

Mrs. Cunningham drew a deep breath, "I've been thinking about that since I first read the script. Actually, it's that that has probably caused me to withdraw from fully committing to the part. I don't want to upset my husband."

"How can I help to prevent any problems?" I asked. "Would it be a good idea for me to meet him?" We agreed that it would, and set a time for me to come to their home.

At that night's rehearsal, just a week before public performances, as Mrs. Cunningham and I got ready for the bedroom scene, she took off her blouse to reveal a white strapless bra and dropped her skirt to show me matching lacy panties. By this time in our rehearsals, the stage crew in backstage was just one young woman helping with our bedroom scene. If it had been a male or an older woman that Mrs. Cunningham knew well, then I don't know if she would have felt comfortable in lingerie.

My cock, which was routinely long and bulging beneath the spandex, was extra happy.

We climbed under the sheets, and our rehearsal was definitely more intense than before. When I rolled over and lay on top of Mrs. Cunningham, my dick was arrow straight and resting on top of the think nylon of her panties. I was sure that I could feel the little furrow of her pussy, and I tried to center my cock in the furrow.

Afterward, the director said, "Whatever you're doing to make that scene better, keep it up." I was certainly "keeping it up," and I think you know what I mean.

The following nights, Mrs. Cunningham wore different lingerie each time. Nothing too skimpy, just tasteful and perfect for a woman of her age.

That night, I visited Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham in their very nice home. Years of success as a lawyer produced wealth that showed in their tasteful and expansive home. As Mrs. Cunningham met me at the door, I could no longer look at her without knowing that for the next few weeks my cock would rest on her pussy every night.

Mr. Cunningham extended his hand and offered me a drink. After introductions and some small talk, I said, "The play we are doing as put me in an awkward situation with your wife."

"Yes," said Mr. Cunningham, "I'm aware of the story and the bedroom scene. But the husband of an actress knows that these things are only faked. Don't worry about it my boy." He smiled and offered me a toast.

Mrs. Cunningham said nothing. She sat on the sofa next to her husband and sipped wine, crossed her long legs, and gazed at me. When I looked at her, all I could think of was how she looked in her lingerie. I think the meeting put her at ease and put Mr. Cunningham at ease. I certainly added to my relief about things.

Finally, we came to the dress rehearsals, just two days before opening night.

I don't know what got into me. Maybe the devil made me do it. After Mrs. Cunningham and I were in the bed and under the covers, I whispered to her, "Take off your bra."

I said it for two reasons. First, I thought that a surprise suggestion like that would shock her into a better performance. Second, I wanted to see her tits.

Mrs. Cunningham looked shocked all right. Her eyes opened wide. Her breathing came deeper, and most importantly, her color became more pinkish red.

While the action was on the other half of the stage and we were not yet lit, Mrs. Cunningham reached behind her back and released her bra. In my dreams it could not get better. Of course, she was still covered by the sheet, but now she was dangerously close to being revealed. A slip of the sheet would show her nipples to everyone. Or, I could intentionally pull down the covers. By removing her bra, she had to trust me. Just like in a real sexual affair there has to be trust and risk.

As the lights came up on our scene, we lay side by side, and we spoke our lines like real lovers.

I moved on top of her, lifting the sheets just enough so that I could view her breasts. My cock strained to new heights as I let my eyes look down at her tight little brown nipples on top of near perfect swelling breasts. Mrs. Cunningham watched me examine her nakedness as I once again rested my cock gently between her panty-covered pussy lips.

As we spoke our lines, I moved slightly as if having intercourse. The slow movements were meant to let her feel how long my shaft was. Mrs. Cunningham seemed barely able to remember her lines as I continued these long strokes up and down over her panties.

Fortunately, the lights dimmed and we could relax. Even though I wanted to stay on top of her, I quickly ended the scene and prepared for the next change of costume. I wanted the sex scene to be sexy, but I didn't want Mrs. Cunningham to think I was no longer an actor. I think she appreciated that and trusted me more because I was totally committed to the scene.

We didn't speak about the bra or about my seeing her naked breasts. It was just part of the show.

The next night, our last rehearsal, once again Mrs. Cunningham lay under the sheet with her bra on. Before our scene started, she looked at me and asked, "Should I take it off again?"

Of course, I wanted her to take it off again, but I told her, "Do what you think makes the scene work best."

Immediately, she unhooked her bra and lay there bare breasted with the covers dangerously near her nipples. Sure enough, the scene was passionate and strong.

Opening night was here. Over the next two weeks, the play was to have Friday and Saturday performances with matinee and evening performances on the Sundays. Behind stage on opening night the actors and crew were busy and giddy. What would our town think of a play like this, they all wondered. We were about to find out.

At this point, I had pushed things as far as one should, or so I thought. But one more idea popped to my mind just hours before the curtain went up. It has occurred to me earlier, but I only then committed myself to try it.

We peeked from behind the curtains to see audience fill the theater on that night. Everyone in the cast and crew felt our nerves as curtain time arrived. The early scenes went well, and Mrs. Cunningham performed better than I'd ever seen her.

As the bedroom scene approached, I felt a calm come over me. I was focused and well rehearsed, and my partner had blossomed and grown powerfully into that scene over the three weeks of rehearsing. Our kissing scenes had grown more passionate, and even though I had coaxed her into partial nudity, our relationship remained more professional than personal.

Before the bedroom scene, Mrs. Cunningham and I met back stage and gave each other a brief hug and kiss. Then we each undressed. She was in yet another lovely bra and panty set, but I had switched to silky boxers. She took note that I was wearing something different as she got underneath the bed covers. Without asking, she unclasped her bra and tossed it aside. I didn't notice where it landed, but it would be in clear view of the audience.

I climbed into the bed beside Mrs. Cunningham, and just moments before the lights came up on our scene, I whispered to her, "Take off your panties."

Once again, her eyes widened and her expression changed to one of near panic. She knew the scene would start in 20 seconds, and there wasn't time to dither. Either she would trust her instincts about my suggestion, or not. She did. In the last seconds, I felt her wiggle her panties down her leg.

She was probably too distracted by her own daring decision to notice that I also removed my boxers.

As the lights came on our scene, the audience gasped. Mrs. Cunningham and I lay side by side under a sheet as we talked through our lines about marriage and fidelity and passion. I touched her hair in ways that I had not during rehearsals, and between our lines I kissed her a few times more than in rehearsals.

She was on cue and delivering her lines with the kind of emotion that only comes from a woman who takes the risk to be naked in front of an audience that doesn't know she is naked.

As I rolled over to lay on top of Mrs. Cunningham, I could see her breasts and I could see her husband and her daughter sitting in the front row. Once on top of her, I hovered over her body high enough so that her bare pussy was not in touch with me. At this point, I was unsure how things would come out. The entire play could go out of control at any moment if Mrs. Cunningham reacted negatively.

As we said the next few words to each other, I slowly lowered myself toward her. In an instant, I felt my cock touch her pussy hairs, and she felt it too. Our actions on stage must have convinced the audience that there was real passion in this wife's life. The head of my nine inch cock found her slippery pussy lips.

I waited for Mrs. Cunningham's next line, "Should we really be doing this?" And immediately I pushed my cock into her pussy. And her next line was, "Oh yes, oh yes!" as she wrapped her arms around me.

We were to lie there for some moments while the stage lights sifted to the other side of the stage for dialog between her husband and a friend. Our lights were dimmed, but the audience could still see us. I glanced over at Mr. Cunningham as my cock rested inside his wife's pussy.

My cock had penetrated quickly to a depth of about five inches where I let it rest, thinking this must be the limit of her husband's abilities. With the lights dim, I continued applying pressure for more depth, and Mrs. Cunningham's pussy complied as it opened to allow me full entrance. She lay there and remained in character.

However, I did not pump in and out since that would draw attention from the audience, who were, I suspect, thinking this was all faked.

The lights came back on to us for a few more lines, then all lights dimmed while we changed to the next scene.

I pulled my cock out of Mrs. Cunningham's pussy, and we both wrapped sheets around ourselves. We were in a hurry to change clothes, but I stopped her long enough to say, "Now that was acting!"

She laughed out loud at my remark then dashed off. I was not in any more scenes since in the play the wife and husband reconcile.

As I watched the last scenes from wings of the stage, I wondered what the cast party that night would be like.

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