All Body and No Brains

"All right, everybody ready on the set. Take twenty-seven, ready for your cues and....action!" The director's voice had picked up an air of resignation...or maybe it was just exhaustion. We'd already turned the teleprompter around to where Mark could read it from where he was standing on set. He was supposed to have memorized the script the night before, and we'd marked out the scenes that we'd shoot today so he could concentrate on them, but you know Mark...or maybe you don't, you have to be a working member of Hollywood to know the score, the REAL score, about Mark McEwan. You've seen him in numerous movies and talk shows, you know how he's taking the entertainment industry by storm, with his buffed, perfectly formed body, his tousled, gorgeous blond hair, his dreamy, steamy blue eyes, his chiseled cheeks, his beautiful, slightly pug nose, his cleft chin. His body is the stuff that makes every woman (and more men than will admit it in public) dream of having him hold them ardently.

The problem with Mark is, his body is all he's got. His intellect has the same problem as the Loch Ness Monster, that is, it doesn't exist! A director works around this rather formidable lack the best he can. But this scene, Mark had several dozen lines, it was a pivotal part of the story, and Mark was blowing it despite all the precautions and all the coaching between shots we could give to him. Like I said...all body and no brains.

I was up in the booth with the sound man, we had to catch him delivering the right lines when he managed them very carefully. Out of these twenty-seven takes, he had muffed completely about twenty-four of them, and the three remaining, he had only managed partial success. We could patch those three together and get about one-third of the total scene in the can, but for the rest, we were best off trying to get him to do the entire thing all over again.

The sound man, Elvis (no relation) Partheno, summed it up perfectly. "It's amazing how that small a brain powers that big a body."

I snickered, secure in the knowledge I couldn't be heard outside the booth. "He must have a second brain in his ass like a dinosaur!"

We haw-hawed again, while outside, Mark blew his lines yet again. While Elvis reset his tapes, I commented, "We're going to lose another day's shooting at this rate. Why doesn't the director help Mark with his lines by making him a practice tape?"

"Practice tape?"

"We learned it in my college. You get someone to record the other lines, with pauses for your lines. Then, put the tape on a loop to play over and over, and you can work the scenes again and again until you have it down perfect."

"A good idea." Elvis said. "You should mention it to the director, Tom."

Now, one thing they don't teach you in class is to never come up with a solution for a director unless you're ready to get your hands dirty with the solution. Guess who got volunteered to make the practice tape for the missed scenes of today and for tomorrow for Mark? Right, me! I was to make the tape and have it ready for him by the end of today's shooting, without any breaks from my other duties. By skipping supper and working like crazy, I got it done but...yeesh!

I handed Mark the tape and went to my own trailer, only to have him knocking on my door in less than five minutes. "I can't make the tape work right!" he complained to me. "It won't start over again for me."

"You have to hold down both the play and repeat buttons at the same time." I said.

"I did!" He whined. "Can you come look at it? Please?"

Having a blond hunk beg you isn't as much fun as you think it would be, I was damned exhausted. But duty called and we were two days behind shooting because of Mark's incompetence as it was. I stirred myself and went in.

The player worked perfectly for me, of course. But Mark complained he couldn't understand the words on the machine. And his pauses while he thought about what he was supposed to say caused him to miss cues and so on and so on.

So I gave up, turned off the machine, and began to grill him on his part. This show's budget was already way over budget and if we were any later on our production schedule, we might have to shut down and never finish the project. So until Mark was letter-perfect on the scenes, I was going to grill him over and over and over again.

An unending, nasty time later, I sighed and looked at the clock. "Jesus Christ, it's after midnight!" I groaned and shifted on the cheap folding chair I was sitting in.

If I was exhausted, Mark was still fresh as the proverbial daisy. He was relaxed and unworried, lounging on the couch that turned into a bed when you pulled the bottom part outwards, wearing only a pair of running pants, and I had at first feasted my eyes upon that sculpted, perfect body of his. That had worn thin after the first hour and a half, though, and the sweatpants had covered any hope of scoping out his basket. Mark hadn't gone full-nude in any of his shows, though that was no doubt going to be coming sooner or later. So far, it had been briefs and tight pants, and the promise of that bulge was haunting my dreams.

"You want some more coffee?" he offered me.

"Nah, I'm sloshing already." I demurred.

"Some more doughnuts if you want them?" He gestured at the tray on the tiny kitchenette cabinet.

"My sugar rush has turned into a sugar traffic jam." I said and Mark laughed. Damn, he looked good when he did that.

"I'm sorry I'm keeping you awake." Mark said. "Anything I can do for you to help you stay awake?"

"This late at night?" I complained. "The only people able to keep me awake this late at night are the ones I have sex with."

"Oh." Mark said and got to his feet. "I can do that."

The trailer was too small to make him actually walk toward me, all he had to do was get to his feet and then lean toward me. Cabinets behind me permitted him to rest both hands on them and lean down at me without touching me bodily at any point. His big arms flexed as they would if he were doing pushups, and so his face was hovering right over mine.

I goggled at this, as you can imagine. I mean, I'm no great shakes as a hunk, my nose is too big, my face too thin, my body too wiry, puny even, my....

Mark lowered himself further and his lips kissed mine. I hesitated only a second before meshing mine on those beautiful petals of soft velvety lushness around his mouth and his tongue was the blossoming fruit that the flower was bearing. It slid between my own lips and was the best-tasting plum I'd ever had, so sweet and plump and round and delicious!

Mark kissed me slow and sweet and gentle and kind, and then he raised back up and held out his hands to me in welcome. I put my own hands in his and he pulled me up and to him and from there it was back onto the couch/bed, he pulled me on top of him and we bounced, not very much (inadequate padding) and I was kissing him, this time it was me in charge and his erection was pushing against my leg. Waiting for me to get to it.

I lapped hungrily against that beautiful, too-beautiful neck and chest, every part of his body in perfect proportion, the form that any Greek sculpture would have captured in marble, any Renaissance painter would have immortalized on a church wall, any modernist would have rendered in abstract but recognizable form as curving lines of grace, the expression of masculine beauty incarnate. His skin was the flavor of sunny fields of wheat and clear mountain streams, his scent was that of a freshly groomed horse or a regal Persian cat lounging upon a velvet rug in a mansion, pampered and purring, for Mark was purring and his stomach was just as soft as the cat's when they trustfully condescend to expose it for your attention.

I caught hold of the waistband of his sweatpants and dropped to the floor on my knees, and tugged on the pants, hard. They slid off his slim waist as smooth as butter spreads on warm toast, melting off his thighs and pooled in a sticky puddle around his ankles. I didn't look beyond making sure they could fall on off easily if he kicked them and returned to the tower of enlightenment waiting for me at the junction of his creamy thighs. Perched atop the twin rocks of his balls, the nine-inch, cut-tipped citadel of his manhood contained in it a muezzin which called to him, come to prayer, all who love!

My mouth gushed saliva without my even straining, I swallowed him down with an ease that could only be passion-inspired, I took more than six of those nine inches on the first try and just held onto it, feeling the thick, musky, throbbing length of his dong as it seethed within me.

"Ahhh, yeahhhh, Tommmmm, guhhhhhhh, yeahhhhh!" Mark murmured huskily. I looked up at this body prostrate before me, shit, how had I managed to win this superstud, this model-gorgeous actor who had everybody drooling, and he was here, with me, smiling at me with a simple and uncomplicated manner that was so unforced and undemanding. He was giving himself to me because...because he wanted to and I wanted him to, and nothing more. No catches, no burdens, just him and me and this movie-lot trailer and this movie and this acting role for him to get through. And all of that could wait while we made love.

I moved up and down upon him in slow, worshipful motions that had him moaning like I'd always dreamed he would. He raised up on one elbow and that accented his muscles in every detail, his body glowed and rippled with every movement of his head as it bobbed in his pleasure and his moans that were as soothing as the ocean's waves as they came in to shore, and Mark's hand rested on my head, not dominatingly but assuringly, telling me that he wanted me where I was, that I was doing just as he wanted. And his smile was like the rising sun coming up over the ocean as he grinned down at my questioning eyes.

I nursed his pud until it was warmly pulsating in eagerness and then I stood up and said, "I want you to fuck me, Mark. Can you, please, fuck me?" I was tearing off my clothes as quick as I could manage, I was wearing too much for grace in my actions and all of it was wrong for a quick strip, my shirt with the buttons that were difficult to unfasten, the jeans that had stubborn buttons on the fly, sneakers that had to be untied and unlaced to be taken off, and so on.

But Mark waited patiently as I manhandled my clothing from my body and when my skinny frame was finally exposed, he stood and took me into his arms, his chest rising and falling in his lust-stirred frame of mind. He lowered me to the bed/couch, this time me on the bottom and him on top, his kisses on my mouth were accompanied by the strokes of his hands upon my body, he lifted one of my legs up high and this let him slide between them, he pushed his dong still slippery with my mouth-loving to knock at my back door and get it to open without friction...or maybe my own passions had been stirred enough to get my sphincter to relax. He pushed into me and I felt the thick manliness driving in and filling me, warming me, making me whole! I threw my head back and groaned as that energetic, joyous prong marched into the cavern of my love.

My fingernails bit into his flesh and Mark hissed as he felt their bite on his back, he touched foreheads to me and said, "I'm so glad you came by tonight. I was feeling awfully lonesome."

"Lonesome?" I gasped out. "You?" I visualized Mark as fighting them off with a stick, a different girl every night...or guy.

"Yeah." Mark said and his body fucked at my ass gently, the same way that fingers will drum on a tabletop when their owners are thinking hard. "I seem to scare everyone off. I don't get it. I'll go over and talk to someone and I think we're doing all right, but then they kind of shake their heads and walk off. I hear them whispering about me, calling me ‘retard' or ‘moron' and such. It hurts, you know?"

"I know." I winced, remembering my witticisms of this afternoon at Mark's expense. "People can be awfully mean sometimes. But part of that is just jealousy, I mean, you're so good-looking, it's like people have to find something wrong with you."

"My body is my only asset." Mark said. "I have to let it do all my work for me. Like now, for instance." And he punctuated that sentence with the best sort of exclamation point, he began to fuck me in earnest.

"You do?" I gasped. That pud of his was curved just right, it was hitting my prostate gland with every luscious stroke. And then, it hit me. "Like now? What do you...oh, God!...mean?"

"I need your help to learn my lines for the rest of this movie." Mark explained. "It's the toughest one I've done so far, my part is so big in this one." That was true, he'd had supporting roles only in prior films, this time, he was the star. "So if I can make you happy to help me learn my lines, then I'll do okay, right? Even though I'm not very smart."

I considered this while Mark banged my butt with every iota of talent in that so, so, SO talented body of his. All I could say was, with my words sounding more like pants than syllables. "Mark, you're smarter than you think."

"Then you'll...help me...with my...lines every...night?" Mark breathed at me.

"Sure, sure!"

"And I'll...give you...this every...night, too!"

"You've got a fucking deal!" I groaned.

Mark thought that was funny and it interrupted his fucking for a while (fucking deal, get it?), then he started in giving me my just desserts. Mark may not be big in the brains department, but when it came to drilling my butt, he was a genius! I was lost in my lust, driven by my desire, pirouetting in my passion, and it was all due to Mark's magnificent man-tool!

"I'm coming, Tom, I'm coming!" Mark groaned. "You want me to pull out, Tom?"

"Hell, no!" I moaned. "Fill me full of that hot cream, Mark! Fill me fucking full!"

"You got it." Mark heaved. "I'm coming, man, coming, oh, oh, OH, OH, OH, OH-OH-OH-OH, OH, OHHHHHHH!" And his cock squirted hot jizz into my bowels.

I looked up at that beautiful perfect face on that beautiful perfect body, all of it contorted in that strangely softening strain that is ejaculation, and felt his beautiful, perfect dong in my ass, jetting its jism and that, as much as the moment and the sex, was what made me join him in climax.

I groaned, threw my head back and my cock sprayed Mark's stomach and chest with my spunk. I mean, it really blew! I never came like that before in my life! I wasn't just shooting, I was hosing him down with my sperm, and Mark, still in the after-shocks of his own orgasm, burst out laughing as I dowsed him heavily with my own passion's seed.

Done, he laid down on me and proceeded to rub my own body with my spent spunk, and I chuckled along with him.

"You liked that?" he asked me.

"Yeah, oh, yeah, that was the best, the absolute best." I gushed as I kissed him.

"Great." he surprised me by pulled himself out of me and getting up. "We still have a lot of lines to study. I need to learn all these lines tonight, you know."

"I know." I said. "All right, we'll do it again."

Still naked and covered with my come shining on his chest despite his rubbing it on me, Mark rose, picked up the script, and brought it to the bed. "Ready when you are."

I was ready. I'd run through the lines so much, I had them memorized myself. I said that to Mark.

He grinned. "Great!" He pulled the bed/couch at the bottom, even with me in it, stretching it out into a full-sized bed suitable for sleeping two, and crawled in with me. "I'll turn out the lights and we can snuggle in the dark while we work on our lines." He turned out the lights as promised and pressed his nude body up against mine. "Maybe even do something else while we work on our lines, maybe?"

Mark may be all body and no brains, but in his case, the body was enough!

THE END
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