It was with a heavy sigh that the theater director Mister Benson paused the recording of their death practice, freeze-framing the hotshot of the drama mid-screen, one Miss Scarlett Johansson. His disconsolate eyes swivelled from the projection screen to the high schooler sitting across from him on the couch as they had an after-school meeting in his office.

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

The high school senior's shoulder dropped and her beautiful green eyes threatened snag. She barely heard her drama teacher as he started to pick apart her performance, feeling asleep and obtuse. The job with her acting he was mentioning he couldn't possibly actually experience were problems ! It was all so immanent !

Anyone else who didn't have her future tense in her paw, she would accept 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 course of the breakdown the much sr. teacher leaned closer and closer to the very well-endowed teenager, sometimes resting his hand on the schoolgirl skirt she was wearing. This kept happening often, until his helping hand started brushing against the exposed bare skin of her leg that the wanna-be starlet Scarlett started feeling a churning feeling inside of her flat pot that something was awry, and she should get out of here.

Before she could do anything but exposed and close her plush lips a few times like a fish, the teacher's eyes locked on the very busty swelling of her button-up shirt, before travelling up to her angular and perfectly formed face. As if he had every right to do it, he slid his hand deliberately up her skirt and rested his gnarled palm on her thigh.

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

Scarlett Johansson felt like she was disassociating from her eubstance, and she felt herself going limp. It was like she could observe what was happening from a distance, across the way. His former hired hand grabbed the dorsum of her cervix and pulled her into him, resting her heading on his berm. His hand was between her thighs, rubbing her pussy.

His moan were searing themselves into her mind, the case of moan where there isn't a uncertainty that the man is getting exactly what he wants. It was like watching a movie, the adolescent cerebration as in her distracted head she watched the shot blossom. Her cunt was soaked from her rubbing, and like a puppet on strings, she watched as she let him abide her up and tug her underwear to her ankles. During her repositioning, his shaft had been sprung resign from his pants, throbbing and hard.

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

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

As her instructor's cock 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 motion, she didn't help him get off, but he continued to fuck her into the desk for nearly twenty dollar bill minutes, until his fingers returned to her pussy in plus to the cock fucking her.

She began feeling dizzy, the world spinning in her judgment as his grunt turned to primal groans. Some unsubstantial sensation was building in her body like she'd never felt before, deep in her stomach. She started to rock back onto his lap, her body moving with every poke he made.

The scream from her unexpected orgasm would have got given them both away, alerted anyone else left in the schooltime, if he didn't clamp his hand powerfully over her mouth as she convulsed with pleasure under him. He never let up through it all, pain and panic place setting in as he went hard and faster, until his own end came and, deep inside of Scarlett Johansson's crocked adolescent cunt, he sprayed encumbrance after consignment of cum.

When he slowly pulled from her, it was like he pulled a plug and the electricity 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 back pack and practically ran out of the room access to her car.

It was a raging, fast ride home, but she didn't find any comfort there. She didn't slumber that Nox, instead she rubbed herself way Mr. Benson did, trying her best to recapture the feeling of his breath, his oink, his touch. She came again, over and over, until her body couldn't orgasm any more.

In a unspoilt, just worldly concern that would have been their firstly and only coming upon. Actually, in a good earth a beautiful talented woman like Scarlett Johansson would never have been raped by her drama teacher at all, but life wasn't that way. As lifetime isn't fair, or just, she stayed after school at to the lowest degree once a week for excess acting moral from her instructor. In the end, he kept his Holy Scripture and she got an A+ in the social class, and got a personal passport from him to attend to acting schoolhouse at the Lee Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute.

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

The feeling of being raped never left her, not really. Recently she looked up Mr. Benson to see if he was still teaching, and she saw that he was arrested six month ago for - what else - having sex with a student. That weight felt heavy on her. How many early cleaning lady would have been saved if she had spoken up ? Was having the life she did, the career she did, worth it happening to her ? Or happening to all those girls she didn't roll in the hay ? Would she do it again, if she knew what would befall ?

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