It was a sultry summer evening, and the lights of the theater flickered with a warm, inviting glow. As I walked through the familiar doors, the scent of old wood and fresh paint welcomed me. Even though we were in a small town — and the crew was as amateur as it gets — the building was abuzz with activity.

I’m an actor — an unwavering romantic at heart battered by a few too many failed relationships and lousy jobs but still chasing my big break in love and on the stage.

That night, we were in the final week of rehearsals for William Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing, and excitement hummed through the cast like electricity. My heart raced not just from the thrill of the impending performance, but for the striking woman at the center of it all — Monica.

My leading lady was captivating, exuding a blend of grace and stubborn independence that left everyone around her a little breathless. With her long, dark hair, stunning face and expressive brown eyes, she didn’t just act. She fully became each character she portrayed — whether she was playing our main heroine, Beatrice, or standing in for others during backstage reads.

As Beatrice, Monica’s performance was both sharp-tongued and vulnerable, drawing observers into her world and completely capturing their attention.

I had spent countless evenings rehearsing with her, our chemistry undeniable both on- and off-stage. We shared laughs and frustrations, confided in each other about our dreams and discovered a deeply rooted connection. But I hesitated to cross the line between camaraderie and something more, unsure if she felt the same physical attraction that I did.

Opening night finally arrived, and the cast’s energy was infectious. The stage was perfectly set. From the get-go, I was enthralled by Monica — a feeling that grew as she stood a mere breath away from me.

My crush delivered her lines flawlessly, her wit cutting through the atmosphere like a knife. I couldn’t help but admire her. She was a force of nature, her radiating passion evident to the audience. Each time she laughed or shot a pointed retort my way, I fought to suppress a smile of admiration in order to stay in character.

When intermission came, I milled about backstage, admiring her from a short distance.

Monica soon approached me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling.

“You were incredible out there,” she said.

“How could I not be with my favorite Beatrice of all time,” I confessed.

Monica seemed to suddenly grow shy as she replied, “You bring out the best in me.”

Amid the weighted silence, I felt a magnetic pull drawing us closer. The urge to kiss her was almost overwhelming, but I hesitated. If my instinct was wrong, I risked disrupting the show on a hugely important night.

Instead, I cleared my throat and suggested, “After we take our last bow, let’s go celebrate our grand debut.”

She thought that was a great idea.

But what excited me even more was that the look in Monica’s eyes told me that I had a chance of making my dirty dreams about her a very real reality!

The remaining acts flew by in a blur. My mind was racing with lines and cues, along with inappropriate thoughts of what could happen after the curtain fell. I sensed Monica’s bristling energy intertwining with mine, but I wanted to explore it in private — far from the inquisitive eyes of our fellow cast members.

Our final bows were taken as applause filled the theater. I felt exhilarated and was convinced our reviews would be stellar.

After expressing congratulations to our colleagues, Monica and I gathered our things and left the theater one after the other to avoid sparking gossip. We met up outside, and feeling a rush of courage, I asked, “Do you think there could be something more between us?”

She looked pleased and answered, “Yeah. Want to explore that back at my place?”

“I sure would,” I told her, bringing my lips to hers for a lusty kiss that instantly stiffened my prick.

Monica pulled out her phone and ordered us a ride — and before long, we were making out in her studio apartment.

My lips crushed against hers, hungry and demanding, as we stood locked in an embrace. Monica’s tongue danced with mine as we devoured each other with animalistic passion. I manhandled her beautiful bod through her clothing, triggering moans of pleasure.

At the same time, Monica’s fingers were in motion, running through my hair, clutching my shoulders and caressing my back.

With skilled fingers, I unbuttoned Monica’s blouse, revealing her dainty bra and the swells of her full breasts. I stripped her of both garments, dropping them to the floor and noticing how her exposed nipples hardened. I allowed my eyes to feast on her partially nude body before yanking down her yoga pants and thong.

Monica was stunning, and I told her so. She blushed becomingly as I reveled in my good fortune.

She tugged my shirt up and off, seeming to be just as excited to start getting me naked. She reverently caressed my bare torso, skating her palms over my chest and arms.

I held her at the waist, guiding her toward the tangled sheets and messy mountain of pillows on her bed. We fell onto the mattress, locking lips in another searing kiss as I blanketed her body with mine.

I reached between her thighs, gently tracing her slit. She sighed softly, her warm breath hitting my cheek. I dipped two fingers between her slippery labia, making sure to scoop up plenty of her moisture. Then I brought my drenched digits to her clit, stroking it and causing her to release a helpless cry.

“You’re so, so wet, Monica,” I murmured, my voice hoarse with desire. “I want to taste you. Can I?”

Without speaking a word, she nodded excitedly — as if she thought that was the greatest idea in the world.

I promptly positioned myself between her thighs with my head just above her slit. Monica’s eyes closed when I exhaled, and she felt my breath hit her sensitive flesh. I teased her folds with my tongue tip, before delving deeper. She jammed her pussy against my mouth, demanding more of whatever I was dishing out — and I answered her call.

I energetically licked and sucked her snatch, exploring every inch of her pussy. Monica’s hips bucked wildly, her fists clenching the sheets as she focused on the pleasure washing over her. My tongue circled her clit, applying the right amount of pressure to drive her wild.

She called out my name, pleading for sweet relief.

Even without her fervent cries, I would have continued my relentless pursuit of her climax. I was intent on driving her closer and closer to the edge.

Monica’s moans assured me that I was destined to achieve my goal. Her orgasm seemed to steadily build, the tension in her feeling like a coiled spring ready to snap. When I finally sucked her swollen button between my lips, she surrendered.

Her body shook with the force of her climax, her juices gushing from her cunt. I continued to lap at her pussy as she was wracked by orgasmic tremors. Her body jolted each time my tongue connected with her clit. I didn’t stop until she was a trembling, satisfied wreck.

I kissed my way up her quivering thighs and across her heaving stomach as I worked my way up her body.

Monica looked drunk on her own personal ecstasy.

I was still wearing my jeans and popped open the button on my waistband. I stripped them off to reveal my erect cock.

Monica was fixated on my boner, wrapping one of her delicate hands around my dick and guiding my shaft into her hot mouth. She hummed happily as if savoring the feeling of my rock-hard rod and the musky taste of my pre-come. My breath hitched as she swirled her tongue around my crown.

I couldn’t stop myself from moaning. I combed back her hair with my fingers, using my hands to direct the motions of her mouth and encouraging her to swallow more of my shaft. Monica did so obligingly. My dick hit bottom, and I enjoyed the feeling of her throat muscles contracting around my girth. She looked up at me through her lashes, and the sexy sight nearly made me shoot!

She continued to pleasure me, her hand rhythmically stroking my lower shaft as her lips worked on the head.

Her mouth was too hot, wet and arousing. With a final thrust, I came with a shout, launching my load across her tongue. She eagerly swallowed each jet of my cream until my balls were empty.

I pulled her up into an embrace. As I held her in my arms, Monica’s hand crept over to my prick. One stroke of her fine fist had my rod perking up for an encore. Soon, my cock was fully erect, and she straddled my hips and impaled herself on my rejuvenated spike. I folded my arms behind my head and took in the sexy sight of her riding my pole. I was glad I already had one orgasm under my belt that evening because it aided my staying power. She bounced on my boner like a woman possessed, repeatedly slamming herself down onto my dick.

Monica’s pretty face was flushed as she rapidly worked herself toward another climax. Her spasming pussy clutched my cock, and I let myself get lost in the sensation of her velvety flesh massaging my rod.

Her speed and ferocity soon caught up with me. I could no longer hold off the inevitable. I’d thought my balls were dry, but I managed to shoot a few more spurts of seed into her.

Monica gradually slowed her pace, like an exhausted jockey coming to the end of a grueling race, and we both laughed delightedly.

I was convinced that this was just the first act of a passionate affair. There was no script for our future, but I was confident that we had a record-setting run ahead of us!