Date: Sun, 19 May 2013 14:08:01 -0400 (EDT)
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: All Body and No Brains

			  ALL BODY AND NO BRAINS
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     "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 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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		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM