It was with a heavy sigh that the theater director Mr Benson paused the recording of their hold up practice, freeze-framing the star of the free rein mid-screen, one missy Scarlett Johansson. His dark eyes swivelled from the screen to the high schooler sitting across from him on the sofa as they had an after-school merging in his office.

"Yeah, it's not your best, Scarlett. It's actually pretty bad."

The high school senior's shoulders dropped and her beautiful William Green optic threatened tear. She barely heard her drama teacher as he started to clean apart her performance, feeling benumbed and silent. The problems with her acting he was mentioning he couldn't possibly actually feel were problems ! It was all so subjective !

Anyone else who didn't have her future in her hands, she would own snapped back with a snarky comeback, or argued that he didn't know what he was talking about. But ... she knew she had to impress him, so she sat and listened.

Over the trend of the breakdown the much Old teacher leaned closer and closer to the very sonsie teenager, sometimes resting his hand on the schoolgirl chick she was wearing. This kept happening often, until his deal started brushing against the break bare peel of her leg that the wanna-be starlet Scarlett started feeling a churning spirit interior of her monotonic tum that something was wrong, and she should get out of here.

Before she could do anything but capable and close her plush lips a few times like a fish, the teacher's middle locked on the very busty gibbousness of her button-up shirt, before travelling up to her angular and perfectly formed facial expression. As if he had every right wing to do it, he slid his hand deliberately up her skirt and rested his knotty medallion on her thigh.

He leaned forward, stroking and rubbing her thigh,"You're very smart, Scarlett. You know you're going to need my help to get into that acting schoolhouse in New York."

Scarlett Johansson felt like she was disassociating from her torso, and she felt herself going limp. It was like she could observe what was happening from a space, across the room. His former hired hand grabbed the rear of her neck and pulled her into him, resting her head on his articulatio humeri. His hired man was between her thigh, rubbing her pussy.

His groan were searing themselves into her head, the type of moan where there isn't a doubt that the man is getting exactly what he wants. It was like watching a picture show, the teenaged thought as in her distracted head she watched the setting unfold. Her puss was soaked from her rubbing, and like a creature on strings, she watched as she let him stand her up and tug her underclothing to her ankles. During her repositioning, his cock had been ricochet free from his pant, throbbing and hard.

She could only barely feel the pressure of the desk on which her tits rested as her teacher hang her over, and tried her best to block out the feeling of his cock sawing against her ass and pussy. Scarlett watched the setting in her judgement, scoffing at how much of a fornicatress the woman was until she remembered it was her, and she felt herself crashing back towards reality, all the while wishing she'd get up and run out of the elbow room, never to see the creep again. Why was her pussy leaking ?

Was going to Lee Strasberg and becoming a famous actress worth this ?

As her instructor's turncock slid inside of Scarlett Johansson's burning cunt, he whispered"Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuckkk,"right into her ear as she shuddered and twitched under him. She didn't relocation, she didn't helper him get off, but he continued to fuck her into the desk for nearly twenty min, until his fingers returned to her slit in increase to the stopcock fucking her.

She began feeling dizzy, the world spinning in her judgment as his grunts turned to primal groan. Some unreal aesthesis was building in her consistence like she'd never felt before, deep in her stomach. She started to rock back onto his lap, her dead body moving with every knife thrust he made.

The scream from her unexpected orgasm would accept given them both away, alerted anyone else left in the shoal, if he didn't clamp his script powerfully over her rima oris as she convulsed with pleasure under him. He never let up through it all, pain and panic setting in as he went hard and faster, until his own end came and, deep inside of Scarlett Johansson's blind drunk teenager pussy, he sprayed lode after load of cum.

When he slowly pulled from her, it was like he pulled a plug and the electrical energy went out. Scarlett was suddenly in her mind again, no longer looking at this dispassionately, disassociating it from herself. She bobbed to the floor and pulled up her underwear, and scrambled over the desk. She grabbed her backpack and practically ran out of the door to her car.

It was a furious, fast drive house, but she didn't find any ease there. She didn't rest that night, instead she rubbed herself way Mr Benson did, trying her best to recapture the feeling of his breath, his grunts, his pinch. She came again, over and over, until her body couldn't climax any more.

In a safe, just earthly concern that would have been their first of all and only encounter. Actually, in a good world a beautiful talented char like Scarlett Johansson would never have been raped by her drama teacher at all, but life wasn't that way. As lifespan isn't fair, or just, she stayed after school at least once a calendar week for supernumerary acting example from her teacher. In the end, he kept his Good Book and she got an A+ in the class, and got a personal good word from him to pay heed acting shoal at the Lee Israel Strassberg Theatre & Film Institute.

From there the rest was account, and the beautiful teen would grow up and enter Hollywood, becoming the mellow grossing char actress of all time.

The feeling of being raped never left her, not really. Recently she looked up Mister Benson to see if he was still teaching, and she saw that he was arrested six calendar month ago for - what else - having sex with a student. That weight felt heavy on her. How many former charwoman would have been saved if she had spoken up ? Was having the biography she did, the calling she did, worth it happening to her ? Or happening to all those girls she didn't have intercourse ? Would she do it again, if she knew what would chance ?

She didn't have those resolution, and she hated herself for it .