It was with a heavy sigh that the house conductor Mister Benson paused the recording of their last practice, freeze-framing the star of the play mid-screen, one Miss Scarlett Johansson. His gloomy eyes swivelled from the screen to the high schooler sitting across from him on the lounge as they had an after-school group meeting in his office.

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

The high school senior's berm dropped and her beautiful special K eyes threatened tears. She barely heard her drama 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 find were problems ! It was all so subjective !

Anyone else who didn't have her future in her hands, she would have 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 equipment failure the practically older teacher leaned closer and closer to the very sonsie teen, sometimes resting his hand on the schoolgirl skirt she was wearing. This kept happening often, until his 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 potbelly that something was wrong, and she should get out of here.

Before she could do anything but unfastened and confining her plush lips a few multiplication like a Pisces, the teacher's centre 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 rightfulness to do it, he slid his hand deliberately up her doll and rested his gnarled medal on her thigh.

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

Scarlett Johansson felt like she was disassociating from her body, and she felt herself going limp. It was like she could observe what was happening from a length, across the room. His other hand grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into him, resting her caput on his articulatio humeri. His hired man was between her second joint, rubbing her pussy.

His groan were searing themselves into her mind, the type of moan where there isn't a doubt that the man is getting exactly what he wants. It was like watching a moving-picture show, the stripling thinking as in her distracted oral sex she watched the tantrum spread. Her slit was soaked from her rubbing, and like a puppet on strings, she watched as she let him stand her up and tug her underwear to her ankle joint. During her repositioning, his cock had been leap liberate from his trouser, throbbing and hard.

She could only barely finger the pressure of the desk on which her tits rested as her instructor hang her over, and tried her best to block out the feeling of his cock sawing against her ass and pussycat. Scarlett watched the scene in her mind, scoffing at how much of a trollop 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 room, never to see the weirdie again. Why was her pussy leaking ?

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

As her instructor's cock slid inside of Scarlett Johansson's burning cunt, he whispered"piece of ass, oh piece of tail, oh fuuuuckkk,"right into her ear as she shuddered and twitched under him. She didn't relocation, she didn't assistance him get off, but he continued to fuck her into the desk for nearly twenty dollar bill instant, until his fingers returned to her snatch in add-on to the cock fucking her.

She began feeling dizzy, the world spinning in her intellect as his oink turned to aboriginal groan. Some insubstantial sensation was building in her eubstance like she'd never felt before, deep in her stomach. She started to shake back onto his lap, her consistence moving with every thrusting he made.

The wow from her unexpected orgasm would hold given them both away, alerted anyone else left in the schooltime, if he didn't clamp his hand powerfully over her oral fissure as she convulsed with pleasure under him. He never let up through it all, bother and panic setting in as he went hard and faster, until his own end came and, deep inside of Scarlett Johansson's tight teen cunt, he sprayed cargo 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 creative thinker again, no longer looking at this dispassionately, disassociating it from herself. She bobbed to the base and pulled up her underclothes, and scrambled over the desk. She grabbed her backpack and practically ran out of the threshold to her car.

It was a raging, fast ride habitation, but she didn't find any comfort there. She didn't sleep that night, instead she rubbed herself way Mr. Benson did, trying her full to recapture the feeling of his breathing spell, his grunts, his jot. She came again, over and over, until her body couldn't orgasm any more.

In a dear, just world that would have been their first and only encounter. Actually, in a good cosmos a beautiful talented cleaning woman like Scarlett Johansson would never consume been raped by her play teacher at all, but life wasn't that way. As animation isn't fair, or just, she stayed after school at least once a calendar week for extra acting deterrent example from her teacher. In the end, he kept his word and she got an A+ in the class, and got a personal recommendation from him to serve acting school at the Lee Strasberg theatre of operations & celluloid Institute.

From there the relaxation was chronicle, and the beautiful stripling would grow up and enter Hollywood, becoming the highest grossing woman actress of all sentence.

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 months ago for - what else - having sex with a scholarly person. That weight felt heavy on her. How many other fair sex would have been saved if she had spoken up ? Was having the life she did, the calling she did, worth it happening to her ? Or happening to all those daughter she didn't make love ? Would she do it again, if she knew what would bump ?

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