It was with a heavy suspiration that the dramatic art director Mister Benson paused the recording of their stopping point drill, freeze-framing the star of the play mid-screen, one Miss Scarlett Johansson. His dark oculus swivelled from the screen to the senior high schooler sitting across from him on the couch as they had an after-school meeting in his office.

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

The high school fourth-year's shoulders dropped and her beautiful green eye threatened bout. She barely heard her play teacher as he started to pick apart her performance, feeling numb and dumb. The problems with her acting he was mentioning he couldn't possibly actually feel were trouble ! It was all so immanent !

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

Over the course of the partitioning the much sometime teacher leaned cheeseparing and closer to the very buxom teenager, sometimes resting his hand on the schoolgirl skirt she was wearing. This kept happening often, until his bridge player started brushing against the unwrap bare skin of her leg that the wanna-be starlet Scarlett started feeling a churning spirit inside of her matte pot that something was wrong, and she should get out of here.

Before she could do anything but receptive and close her plush lips a few times like a Pisces the Fishes, the instructor's middle locked on the very busty jut of her button-up shirt, before travelling up to her angular and perfectly formed human face. As if he had every right hand to do it, he slid his hand deliberately up her annulus and rested his gnarled medal on her thigh.

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

Scarlett Johansson felt like she was disassociating from her body, and she felt herself going limp. It was like she could notice what was happening from a distance, across the room. His former bridge player grabbed the spinal column of her neck and pulled her into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His helping hand was between her thigh, rubbing her pussy.

His moans were searing themselves into her judgement, the type of moan where there isn't a dubiousness that the man is getting exactly what he wants. It was like watching a movie, the adolescent sentiment as in her distracted head she watched the scene unfold. Her puss was soaked from her rubbing, and like a puppet on chain, she watched as she let him put up her up and tug her underwear to her ankles. During her repositioning, his pecker had been bounce free from his pant, throbbing and hard.

She could only barely find the atmospheric pressure of the desk on which her titty rested as her teacher hang her over, and tried her effective to block out the feeling of his cock sawing against her ass and pussy. Scarlett watched the prospect in her nous, scoffing at how much of a fornicatress the cleaning lady 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 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 teacher's cock slid inside of Scarlett Johansson's burning bitch, he whispered"nooky, oh piece of tail, oh fuuuuckkk,"right into her ear as she shuddered and twitched under him. She didn't motion, she didn't aid him get off, but he continued to fuck her into the desk for nearly twenty minutes, until his finger returned to her cunt in addition to the turncock fucking her.

She began feeling dizzy, the macrocosm spinning in her judgment as his grunt turned to primal moan. Some unreal sense datum was building in her consistency like she'd never felt before, deep in her venter. She started to rock back onto his lap, her body moving with every thrust he made.

The shriek from her unexpected climax would have given them both away, alerted anyone else left in the school, if he didn't clamp his hired man powerfully over her mouth as she convulsed with pleasure under him. He never let up through it all, pain sensation and panic place setting in as he went hard and faster, until his own end came and, deep inside of Scarlett Johansson's mean teen pussy, he sprayed encumbrance after load 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 door to her car.

It was a wild, fast drive household, but she didn't find any comforter there. She didn't sleep that night, instead she rubbed herself way Mister Benson did, trying her dear to recapture the feeling of his breath, his grunt, his touch. She came again, over and over, until her body couldn't coming any more.

In a good, just man that would have been their first and only confrontation. Actually, in a right human race a beautiful talented woman like Scarlett Johansson would never have been raped by her drama teacher at all, but spirit wasn't that way. As sprightliness isn't fair, or just, she stayed after school at to the lowest degree once a week for extra acting lesson from her teacher. In the end, he kept his word and she got an A+ in the class, and got a personal good word from him to give ear acting school at the Lee Lee Strasberg Theatre & Film Institute.

From there the rest was story, and the beautiful teen would maturate up and enter Hollywood, becoming the mellow grossing charwoman actress of all time.

The tactual sensation 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 early women would suffer 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 girl she didn't know ? Would she do it again, if she knew what would happen ?

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