Maria and the Hollywood Stuntman

The following story is true. Only the identity of the characters and locations have been altered.

*

Maria bolted upright in bed, trembling, her hands moist. She sleepily turned and gazed at the blurry digital dial of her alarm clock. She squinted to make out the time. "God, it's only 2:30," she muttered.

She sank back down into the softness of her feather bed, seeking temporary comfort. Her life had been turned upside down, leaving her anxious and unfulfilled. A little over two years ago her husband of eight years had been killed in a tragic auto accident. His life insurance had provided her economic security, but his absence had left a hole at the heart of her being. A year and a half after his death she tried Internet dating for six months or so, but couldn't open up emotionally. The nice guys were boring and unadventurous, and the macho guys were ego maniacs and misogynists.

The only perplexing encounter was a night out with the girls where she ended up drunk, and possibly drugged, at some guy's place in the Hollywood hills. She didn't remember his name, but a girl friend recalled that he was a stuntman for the studios. He must of slipped something into her drink, for the night was mostly a blur. She barely recalled a jumble of hazy snap shots depicting lured sex, fleeting images of oral copulation, and brief glimpses of hard physical sex. She was still haunted by fractured memories of eerie high pitched wails echoing off the bedroom walls announcing her gripping orgasms.

She had awakened before dawn and escaped before the unnamed stuntman awoke. She never saw him again, but the libidinous sex had left its mark. It was damned exciting. Sex with her husband had been loving and kind. He was tender and sensitive to her needs. During her marriage it was only through oral sex that she could achieve an orgasm. The night with the mystery stuntman had opened her up; she had her first encounter with raw, hot, physical sex.

The day after the stuntman affair she had suffered a monster hangover. While preparing for a soak in the Jacuzzi, she glimpsed her bruised thighs in the bathroom mirror. He had left several black and blue marks on her thighs, but when she turned around she found two distinct prints where he had dug his fingers into her sensual ass. The nipples on her full breast were sore and her pussy ached.

Maria wasn't egotistical, but she was a realist. At thirty four years of age, she had one hell of a body. She stood five foot five, had dark thick hair cut short, olive skin, (a Latina mother), green eyes, (an Irish father), and full breast with large extended nipples. When she was aroused her nipples morphed into miniature pinkies. Her classic bubble butt had driven her deceased husband wild. She missed his tender touch and sensitivity. But the mystery stuntman had unleashed a primal desire for hot physical sex. But this time she wanted to savor it all and not be left with only a jumble of disjointed memories.

Maria was primed and finally ready for a new phase of her life. She needed a fix. So when one of her coworkers at the real estate office suggested a night out with the girls, she accepted. But Maria would be more careful this time around. So she thought.

Nancy, her coworker had been divorced for several years and knew the night life in Hollywood and Santa Monica. She picked a club in Santa Monica known for businessmen, people in the movie industry, and cops. Nancy had had a couple of affairs with married cops. That was definitely not Maria's style.

She met Nancy at the night club a little after 7:30. "My you look sexy," Nancy remarked as she turned from the bar to appraise Maria's outfit.

"I hope this isn't too bold," said Maria, smiling devilishly.

"It's perfect." Nancy looked her up and down and then announced emphatically. "This is going to be a night to remember!"

"I hope so." Maria sighed as she took a seat at the bar next to Nancy. She had chosen her outfit with a mischievous intent. The skirt was black, the hem fell to mid thigh, hugging her ass like a glove. She wore a pale blue blouse that clung to her full breast. Not desiring unwanted attention, she opted for a gray suede jacket that toned down her exotic appearance. The jacket revealed only a glimpse of her full breast. But her three inch heels accentuated her curvaceous ass and toned legs.

"Hey, Nancy," came a deep voice from down the bar. A tall man with a dark trimmed goatee approached and leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Nancy dear, I haven't seen you in months. Where've you been?"

"I've been laying low. I needed a respite from the night life. Besides, all that time studying finally paid off. I just passed the real estate exam." Nancy was proud of herself. She'd been a secretary for a couple years, but envied the big pay off for selling high end property. It was now her turn to live the good life.

Nancy turned toward Maria and said, "Maria, I'd like you to meet Robert. He works for the studios."

Robert swung around and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure. Why don't you two join me and my friend over there. We've a booth."

"Are you game?" Nancy said, raising her brows and smiling broadly at Maria.

"Sure. That sounds great."

Within a half hour the band fired up and couples filled the small dance floor. Nancy and Maria took turns dancing with Robert and his friend Hank. Maria eventually settled in with Hank and Robert monopolized Nancy's time.

Maria learned that Hank had worked only about a year for the studios, polishing his still green stuntman skills. His father was one of Hollywood's best stuntman and Hank, at twenty-six, had decided to follow in his father's footsteps. He'd picked up many skills from his father, but the biggest thing he inherited was his fearlessness. He'd try anything, at least once.

Hank was a smooth dancer, moving about the floor gracefully, given he looked like a college line backer. The fast dances were fun, but the slow dances were sensual, their bodies rubbing and bumping to the slow beat of the music. Maria nipples pushed relentlessly against her suffocating bra as she hugged her rugged new friend. His groin pushed against her mid section and hip, stiff and hard, causing her to shiver with erotic anticipation.

During their chats between dances she'd found out that he had played football at the University of Texas, but had come west to formally learn his father's trade.

At midnight Nancy decided to go home with Robert. As she left the club she asked Maria, "Are you going to be alright?"

"I'm good," Maria whispered to her friend. "Hank's promised to get me home safely."

Hank had come with a friend so, he asked if he could hitch a ride with Maria. She agreed but thought it better if he drove her car. She had nursed three glasses of wine and felt a bit unsteady.

"No worries. How about we have a night cap at my place. It's not far."

Maria was a bit conflicted. She had just met Hank, he was eight years younger, and he exuded a alpha male confidence that was both a bit scary and dangerous. But what sealed the deal, he was a stuntman. Maybe that was an omen. His strong physical appearance and near cocky attitude made her feel weak. He was the kind of guy who knew what he wanted and took what he wanted. She couldn't say no. Somewhere in the back of her mind she had a desire to relive, with a clearer awareness, her prior encounter with her mystery stuntman.

Hank rented a one bedroom apartment on Fourth Street, only blocks from the beach. He was an avid surfer, but usually surfed with friends in Malibu. Santa Monica was only a choice of last resort.

There was a chill in the air, so Hank lit the gas fireplace and threw on a couple of logs while Maria was in the bathroom fixing her make up.

"Maria, come enjoy the warmth of the fire." Hank motioned with his head and smiled warmly as she re- entered the room. He was seated across from the fire, bent over the coffee table, rolling a joint.

Maria was drawn to the fire, enjoying both its flickering visual dance and comforting warmth. As she stood before the crackling fire, she watched Hank with fascination as he licked the cigarette paper and rolled a tightly constructed joint. She imagined his tongue doing the same thing to her breasts and clit. The image made her weak kneed. Besides, she hadn't smoked marijuana in ten years.

"Come on over and share a bit of heaven with me."

"In a bit. I'm cold." Maria was mesmerized by Hank's little ritual. After rolling and sniffing his creation, he lit the joint and took a deep drag, holding it in his lungs for what seemed an eternity, and then expelled a plume of smoke that lifted toward the ceiling.

"Come on. Your missing out." Hank gently waved the joint , signaling her with a nod of his head to join him.

After warming her body she approached the sofa, took off her suede jacket, and slid down next to Hank. As she collapsed into the softness of the plush material of the over stuffed sofa, her skirt hiked up her legs, exposing most of her upper thighs. The light of the fire cast a soft light on her olive skin, and played on her pale blue blouse, revealing her stiffened nipples. Her breast were full and firm, a smidge bigger than usual. Every month, just before her period, she retained fluids that enlarged her breasts, at least a half size.

Hank looked into her eyes, smiling, challenging her to join him in his euphoric state. She gently took the joint. After staring at it for several seconds, she took a deep inhalation, fighting to keep it down. She succeeded in holding on to the smoke for about three seconds, and then coughed up the irritating smoke. Hank sprung from the couch and returned a few moments later with a pint of rum.

"Here, take a swig. It will soothe your throat." Hank pushed the bottle toward her authoritatively.

Maria reflexively grabbed the bottle and took a swig. The fluid coated her throat and provided instant relief. It was definitely the drug of choice. Between the joint, warmth of the fire, the rum, and the closeness of the twenty-six-year old surfer with the body of a championship athlete, she was on fire. She could feel fluids pooling in her vagina. If Hank could read her mind, he would rip off her clothes.

He offered her another hit, but this time she held it with both hands, trying desperately to steady her trembling hands. She inhaled, more carefully this time, allowing the smoke to linger in her lungs. She handed the joint back and laid her head back, gazing at the ceiling.

Hank moved closer, put his arms around her shoulders, and gently kissed her cheek and neck before planting a deep kiss on her full lips. The preliminary foreplay soon morphed into serious petting, lips and tongues engaged in a fiery dance of erotic pleasure. His lips were soft, his tongue playful, eliciting new and intense emotions from Maria's sex starved body.

His hands slowly explored her body and soon found the satin skin of her thighs and the full softness of her bloused covered breast. He played with her nipples that stubbornly pushed through her bra and blouse, causing her to moan incessantly.

Maria, embolden by the pot and booze, dropped her right hand to his lap, and stroked his Levis covered penis. She caught her breath, then moaned, as she traced the outline of its hardness. Her small hand moved up and down his leg, causing his cock to lurch and strain against his jeans.

As she stroked his still hidden cock, he slowly removed her blouse and bra. She bent forward as he released her full breasts. "Fuck, you've incredible boobs," he growled. Lately he'd dated women with small breasts, girlish surfer types, or those who had their tits surgically enhanced. This was the real deal. His mouth pooled with saliva just by looking at their magnificence.

These were undoubtedly the greatest tits he'd ever seen. He was mesmerized, drinking in their visual beauty before taking them into his hands, first lifting them to feel their weight, and then tweaking the already hard nipples. The more he played with her nipples, the bigger they got. He dropped his head and gently kissed them, swirling his moist tongue around their stiffness. They were like the dainty pinkies of a baby. But the tenderness of the initial kissing soon escalated into voracious sucking, moving Maria to increase her stroking of his cock.

"Oh, fuck," he cried out with increasing frustration. "I'm going to rip my jeans," he moaned.

"Here, let me help you," Marie blurted, shocked by her eagerness to see his hidden treasure. She was not disappointed. After helping him with the buttons, he awkwardly stepped out of his jeans and removed his shorts, revealing the biggest cock she'd ever seen. Her husband and a couple of her college boy friends were significantly smaller, and she had only a vague recollection of the size of the mystery stuntman. She had limited sexual experience and had visited only a few porn sites on the Internet. But Hank had them all beat.

Hank collapsed back onto the couch, took Maria in his arms and explored her mouth with his tongue, licking and sucking her tongue into the recesses of his mouth. Maria again resumed stroking his cock, straining to encircle its girth. The more she stroked his hardness, the bigger it got. When Hank moved his mouth back to her heaving breasts, she got a better look at the monster. He had two prominent blood vessels running its length, engorging it with blood.

Hank reluctantly let go of her tits, slid back and gently pushed Maria down on the sofa causing her skirt to bunch up around her hips. He grabbed her panties and slid them off her hips and down her legs. He left her skirt on, pushing it up and out of the way before he lowered his head. He began kissing her lower legs, moving slowly up her full but well toned thighs, before finding his target. He was gentle at first, teasing her by licking and sucking around her pussy. After long moments of teasing foreplay, he plunged his mouth into her cunt, swirling his tongue around the opening, and then licking and sucking on her clitoris.

The oral attention sent sparks of pure erotic pleasure through her pussy, clitoris, and ending somewhere deep in her belly. Her breathing became labored, broken by periodic sensual moans. Her pussy gushed with vaginal fluids, mixing with his wet kisses, causing a torrential stream of liquid passion.

She knew that if he didn't stop his tonguing, she would explode. The mounting tension was almost unbearable. Just seconds away from a mind blowing orgasm, he stopped and positioned himself above her. She looked up into his blue eyes and blond hair feeling as if she had gone to heaven. He was undoubtedly the hottest looking male she had ever been with. His facial feature were classic all-American hero; his body looked as if it had been chiseled from granite. He had broad shoulders, a muscular chest, and thick arms; all of this was complemented by flat abs. His legs were thickly muscled. His cock was from a porno set. She nearly fainted.

He gently rocked forward, sliding his blood engorged cock across her labia and clit. He did this again and again until vaginal fluids leaked down her satin smooth thighs. Only then did he introduce the tip of his cock to her pulsating pussy. It seemed to take an eternity, but he slowly settle his weight on her pushing ever inch of his meat deep into her throbbing cunt. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, disappearing behind her eye lids, as she let out a guttural moan. Within minutes the moans were replaced by howls of unbridled lust.

As she adjusted to his manhood, she threw her legs around his back, pulled his head down to her lips. Her lips and tongue bathed his mouth with deep French kissing. She suddenly slipped her mouth from his and blurted, "Fuck, I'm going to cum."

He increased his tempo, ramming his thick member as deep as it would go. She clawed his back, clamped down on her legs, holding on for dear life. "I'm cuming ... oh, God damn it ..."

The walls echoed her cries of passion. Then it happened. Nerves raw with passion fired off jolts of pleasure causing her to launch into a countless series of spasms. Time had nearly stopped, but her spasms continued, leaving her shaking for long lust saturated moments. She had only read about such mind boggling sex. Now she had finally experienced it.

*********

This was the first night of many more. They saw each other regularly until a fateful evening out on the town. She and Hank met Hank's father at the Sportsman on Wilshire Blvd. in Santa Monica for dinner. His dad, Brad, was an older but bigger version of Hank. He had thick blond hair, graying at the temples, a goatee more gray than blond, and piercing blue eyes. It was evident that Hank idolized his dad.

The evening got off to a great start with dinner and drinks. Later Hank suggested they move on to a club in West Hollywood where they could dance, play pool, and blow off steam. Father and son took turns dancing with Maria, who delighted in all the attention.

Hank excused himself to play pool in the backroom. An hour transpired before Brad and Maria checked up on him. They found him in the backroom, drinking hardy and digging in for a serious game of pool. Maria and Brad found out that there was money wagered so, they left him to his vices and returned to the dance floor for some healthy fun.

Another hour past before they heard a ruckus coming from the backroom. Brad check it out. He found Hank and another guy throwing punches, knocking over tables, and sending pitchers of beer crashing to the floor. A bouncer quickly appeared and threw both brawlers out of the club. Brad informed Maria about the event and they left the club to retrieve Hank. Outside Hank was arguing with the bouncer, threatening to return to the club. He was now staggering about and slurring his speech. Brad stepped in and convinced his son to get in his car. The three left together, went back to the Sportsman, picked up Hank's car, and Maria drove it back to the apartment. Father and son followed her to the apartment.

Brad and Maria shouldered Hank into the apartment and carried him to bed. He passed out when his head hit the pillow. Brad made coffee and the two of them got more acquainted. Brad revealed that Hank drank too much. He called it self medication. Hank had some deep seated issues relating to his mother's death. Hank's father and Maria talked for a couple hours before he drove her back to her home in the Hollywood Hills.

Maria invited Brad in. She wanted to know more about Hank's past. His drunkenness and public brawling unnerved her. He told her that Hank lost his mother while in high school. He was only fifteen. He called it a night and agreed to check on her later.

Maria got a call the next day. Hank needed to see her. He seemed contrite on the phone. She agreed to meet him at his place around seven.

He greeted her with a warm smile and quickly apologized for his rude behavior. He immediately opened a bottle of wine and lit a joint. "Let's smoke the peace pipe."

Maria recoiled from his overture, sensing he was in denial. But he was insistent and forced the booze and dope on her. Once loaded she mellowed, but sensed she was being used.

The evening ended with Hank accusing her of being flirtatious, specially with his father, and failing to back him up when attacked. An argument ensued, tempers flared, and she tried to leave. He intercepted her move, picked her up and threw her down on the sofa. Dazed and confused, she acquiesced, and allow him to strip her naked and engage in rough, unwanted sex. He wouldn't be denied as he used his weight and strength to subdue and overwhelm her. When he got off he went to the bedroom, leaving Maria physically bruised and emotionally battered.

******

The next day Brad called to check up on Maria. She told him what happened the previous night. They agreed to meet that night at Maria's place in the Hollywood Hills. Maria put in six hours at the reality office before coming home for a Jacuzzi. She felt dirty, abused, and abandoned. She needed a mature and sympathetic ear.