Community Theater Act 05

As my college year came to a close, an email from Mrs. Cunningham asked me to be part of the summer community production of "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas."

She wrote, "Your skills made our last production such a success, and we thought that you might enjoy helping us plan and stage this play, and perhaps you might act in it, too."

The choice of plays made it clear that the acting lessons I had given last summer were still in demand. My mind raced as I thought about the possibilities.

In June, Mrs. Cunningham invited me to meet with the theater volunteer board to present my ideas. To prepare, I read the play and viewed the film. The possibilities and situations in the story allowed for creativity in the staging, and I was rather sure that Mrs. Cunningham wanted me to make suggestions that would take full advantage of opportunities for some on-stage fucking.

It would be my pleasure, of course.

At the first meeting of the planning committee, Mrs. Cunningham greeted me with a handshake, and she introduced me to the committee members. "I believe you know Mrs. Graves," she said. Mrs. Graves, smiled and nodded. Indeed I did. Just last summer my cock had been buried to the fullest extent the pussies of both handsome ladies.

There were three other women "of a certain age," probably in their fifties or early sixties, and all of them looked as if they had been Junior League wives and well cared for. There was one male on the committee, Rev. Allen, a retired minister and also in his senior years.

Mrs. Cunningham opened the meeting with a review of finances and plans for the year, then she turned to the upcoming summer production.

"We selected this play because of its wide appeal of audiences, and we think our community will enjoy it even though the title is suggestive."

Mrs. Graves added, "As I think you all know, it is a mainstream play that is performed often and for general audiences, but we may post a suggestion about content to let parents decide about their children attending."

"That shouldn't be a problem, "Mrs. Cunningham said, "because most of our audiences are mature. Few children attend anyway." Then she asked, "Has everyone read the play?"

All the committee members nodded.

Then she turned to me, "You made last year's play such a success. We're eager to hear your suggestions for this one."

Mrs. Graves looked at the other committee members, then patted my hand and said, "Speaking for myself, your help last summer was more than I expected."

As she spoke, I remembered fucking her on stage and enjoying the audience watch her being diddled by my big cock while thinking it was all pretend.

"It was certainly my pleasure," I said. "And I'd like to do as much for all of you again this summer."

Mrs. Graves said, "We'll need to set a cast list, audition, decide on scenery and all the other technical matters, so we getter get started right away."

I drew a deep breath, "Ladies and Rev. Allen, I have a few ideas, especially about staging, but the key to a successful play will be the commitment of the actors. We'll need their full investment in the parts, their willingness to truly inhabit their characters."

As I spoke, I looked directly at Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Graves and remembered the feel of my cock parting their pussy lips and sliding deep into them as their husbands watched in the audience.

"I suggest," I continued, "that we use create up and down stage sectors, with the actors in the front of the stage carrying the story while a gauzy scrim will make the backstage actors appear only as shadows of the actors in the brothel rooms."

Mrs. Graves cut in, "Oh, that might be interesting. You mean two areas of action? The audience would follow the story by watching actors in full view, but there would be a separate zone with only the shadows of other actors?"

"Yes," I explained, "and what goes on in the shadows depends on your appetite for realism."

Mrs. Cunningham looked at the other committee members and said, "Well, that is a provocative suggestion, very creative. But I think the committee should discuss this before we take the next steps." She thanked me and asked me to excuse myself while they considered my suggestion.

Fifteen minutes later, she summoned me back into the room. "After some discussion of the pros and cons of your idea, the committee has voted to accept your idea."

I later learned that there had been only one dissenting vote from Rev. Allen. But I had no idea if the other fine looking women of the committee were aware of the level of commitment that Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Graves had achieved last summer by allowing themselves to be fucked in front of the audience.

Auditions were announced, and stage construction began. All five women on the theater committee were cast in the play, and Rev. Allen got a part, too.

I told Mrs. Cunningham, "We have the major parts cast, and now we need a few more actors to be the brothel's patrons who will be in the background behind the scrim." We had created three rooms or sectioned-off places behind the scrim for the "ladies of the house."

She looked at me and blinked, "Oh, I thought that you might want to fulfill those tasks personally."

I smiled, "The large cast and wider staging will allow us to offer more to the audience than we did last year." I winked at her and continued, "I'm sure I can recruit the appropriate talent we'll need to give the actresses maximum satisfaction."

"I see," she replied.

"I know a few mates from college who might be talked in to helping us."

"Oh, I bet you do." she said, probably wondering how much she should trust me.

In my fraternity I knew which of the young men had the best reputations as cocksmen and which had the biggest schlongs. A sent them emails and photos of the women in the cast, and in a few days it was settled. They already know about my fucking of a lawyer's wife in front of him while he was clueless. That story was what cemented my membership in the fraternity, and they were willing to follow my lead to enjoy some summer MILF pussy themselves.

Doug, Randall, and Gavin arrived for one of the early rehearsals. The major characters ran though their scenes while these three were each assigned to a room space behind the scrim. Each room had a bed and a chair which could be seen in outline through the scrim. As the men moved around, the audience could see their figures in various levels of detail depending on how close they were and how bright the light behind them.

The three other committee members were each assigned to one of these spaces, but their parts allowed them to move from downstage to upstage and into the veiled rooms. When a "customer" would ring the bell, one would exit and she would become one of the shadows behind the scrim.

We ran though various ways to come and go, how to greet their customers, and suggested miscellaneous activities they might do while in the shadows. Meanwhile, the action downstage would keep going.

My three friends made a good impression. Each was well dressed, tall and handsome lads, and well behaved. I could tell that all the ladies of the cast were well disposed to them, especially when Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Graves talked about changing the action to allow themselves to be part of the female cast who went backstage, too.

In rehearsals, we gradually added suggestions for action in the rooms, including the women embracing the men, lying on the bed, and pretending to remove clothes.

I called a meeting for just my friends and all the women who would join them backstage. "Realize that the audience will be following the comedy story in front of them, so your actions will give a sense of reality and place to the overall scene. Don't move quickly. Move in slow motions, pause and stand still for a time."

They nodded.

"But," I added, "this is a whore house. The men are frisky and eager for sex. The women are experienced and nothing shocks them." I turned to the ladies, "For all you know, these fine young studs have everything you've always wanted sexually, strong slim bodies, eager and able to please you."

I then looked at my friends, "And you are here for a purpose. You came to fuck these women, and they know you came here to fuck them."

At my use of the word "fuck" everyone in the room gasped.

"My apologies," I said, "but we must think like these characters think. We must feel like they feel. We must behave like they behave. Acting is not just walking through your part."

Later that night, I met with my friends and told them that after my little pep talk, these older ladies would certainly be thinking about what I said. The idea of being fucked was planed in their minds. Even if they never thought they would let an attractive younger man take them to bed, I was sure they were thinking about it.

I reminded the boys how I achieved penetration of Mrs. Cunningham and Mrs. Graves last year by whispers and small sexy suggestions. "At the next rehearsal, why don't you experiment? When she enters the room, kiss her on the lips, or take off your trousers, pull up her skirt, see if she will let you unclasp her bra." All those movements would be visible to the audience but only in shadow. No one would know what was really going on, and the ladies knew it.

As for me, I was playing the role of the sheriff, and Mrs. Cunningham was the madam, the parts played by Burt Reynolds and Dolly Parton in the movie version. In the play, we're supposed to be friends and lovers, so I proposed a scene with her sitting on my lap. We speak our lines, and other action goes on while we stay seated. For dress rehearsal, Mrs. Cunningham wore a big fluffy skirt and sat on my lap. As I said, "Sure is good to see ya!" my hand was up her skirt and fining its way up her leg. The audience couldn't see it as my fingers found her panties and gently petted her pubic bulge.

She got a flush on her face, and my touches made her lines sound more genuine.

After the scene, I said, "I'm sure you understand my method."

"Yes," she replied, "This is exactly what we wanted from you."

Needless to say, at the next rehearsal her panties were missing and my touch entered her pussy lips and played with the slipper slopes of her labia.

In another scene we sat on a sofa with blanket covering our laps. My line was, "Let me show you how much I love you," and under the cover I put my fully erect cock in her hand. Mrs. Cunningham giggled and said, "That's an awful lot!" as she pulled on it and handled my dick.

These were our only two on-stage opportunities, but I began to see her outside the theater. We met in motels and fucked ourselves silly. She completely fell off the wagon and indulged in wild sex every chance she could.

I told her about my advice to the boys, and she started to give me information about the ladies they wanted to service. "Well, Mrs. MacIntosh said that her husband can't get it up any more, and I'm sure she's eager. And Mrs. Lipscomb's husband is as boring as he can be. Mrs. Johnson let me know that her husband's cock is puny." I passed these comments on to my friends.

Meanwhile, they had been working on their partners, and even sometimes changing partners backstage and going into different rooms. Sometimes two men and one woman or vice-versa. What began with gentle compliments and touching had advanced to undressing to panties and bras and boxers. Mrs. Graves rotated with them, too, and I was sure she would provide leadership. With two weeks before opening night, I felt confident that we could pull off a large scale fucking event for this town that would please the audience and leave the actors breathless.

And then disaster happened.

Rev. Allen was standing backstage in an area we had blocked off. He was able to see into the fake whorehouse rooms from behind, and one night he saw his committee members take off their clothes, kiss the men with some passion, and reach down to explore the cock sizes of the boys.

We were almost there. Almost at launch. All cocks were ready for blastoff.

Rev. Allen rushed over to Mrs. Cunningham. "Do you have any idea what's going on back there?" He was practically in a rage. His face was beet red, and his eyes were bulging. Sweat dripped down from his eyebrows.

Mrs. Graves overheard and stepped in. "Why Rev. Allen, you know this is just a play and that we're just acting. Calm down, please."

"But, but," he stammered, "We must stop this before...."

"Before what?" Mrs. Graves asked as she took him by the arm and led him aside.

As it turned out, the solution was simple. We created a fourth backstage space behind he scrim for Mrs. Graves and Rev. Allen. She guided him through her own acting lessons, assuring him that touching and seeing could help his performance. In a few days, Rev. Allen was fucking Mrs. Graves like a pro -- which is exactly what this play is about.

Opening night found my three cavaliers had prepared their acting partners for the real thing. Until then, they had teased and touched, but tonight they would get panties off and let the ladies measure their chances of accommodating these large cocks.

About twenty minutes into the play, the action behind the scrims made it clear to the audience that the ladies and men who were back there knew how a whorehouse made its money. The shadows revealed nothing certain, only suggestions of naughtiness, of clothing items being removed, of lying on beds together, of legs up in the air, of ladies sitting on top of men.

The audience ooh'ed and ahh'ed at the sight, and mostly they laughed and giggled, thinking it was all for show. And it was.

We ran six performances, and as time went by, the guys and I came and went in each of the rooms, sampling the delights of the town's most prominent wives while their husbands applauded from the audience. It turned out that Rev. Allen was the biggest winner of them all. Who know that he had such a large dick? I happened to see him withdraw it from Mrs. Graves, and it's thickness put us all to shame. A world-class cock. I understand that ever since the performances ended, Rev. Allen has made many of the women in town say "Amen."