A Full and Pale Moon

Celebrity Sex Story: Thora Birch : A Full and Pale Moon

(Thora Birch, MF, some FF, celebrity, actress, oral, anal, gross, romantic)

A Full And Pale Moon by Alan Smithee

A Fantasy of having Sex with a popular young Film Actress and Celebrity

An Old Saying: Sex is called “the Little Death”

I hate L.A.!

Listen, if you are driving up PCH north of Ventura in a vintage 50s
Caddy convertible with a big nasty red-head by you side…hey, life is
sweet. That also posits big time spending cash, no job for a cupola

days, and a daddy-tummy that doesn’t crowd the steering wheel even with
the seat pushed all the way back.

In fact, I grew up in Southern California and loved it…until
over-population caused it to back up and spill over like a toilet after
some thoughtless hussy ignored the…


…sign in the service station Ladies Room. Sigh.

But I am, after all, a guy, and this is supposed to be a gross-out porn
story, not a sensitive submission to the New Yorker Magazine, so let’s
skip the foreplay and jump ahead to the part we can make believe we are
pump-fucking a hot young actress with enormous tits until your cum
squirts out her ears –

[ having said this, I can see the stampede of Feminist ladies out of the
AUDITORIUM OF THE MIND where I am a Guest Lecturer, clutching their
copies of “Little Birds” by the Anus Nun and an 8 pack of D-Cell
Batteries! Yeah, they’ll show me. But then they’ll also miss the first
part of this jack-off dirty-talk where we discover the film actresses
Thora Birch and Tara Reid braided together like mating cobras, all but
tongue-gagging each other in the last existing enclosed phone booth on
Santa Monica Boulevard! So just maybe I’ll show them…]

Yes, our 21 year old Goth Hobbit Thora and this curvy 28 year old blond
Buffy are intertwined and rubbing against each other like Lady Macbeth’s
left and right hands. Thora’s ink-black skintight cat-suit was unzipped
between her marvelously marshmallow and humorously honey-dew melon-sized
breasts, down her belly, over her fuzzy-bump, back to her ass, and up
between her plump butt-cheeks to her tail bone. What a journey to
contemplate! And I’ve never seen a zipper that did THAT before! This
came in handy because the blond had jammed her slender right hand up
Thora’s birth-canal up to the wrist. I sat in the parking lot of a
Sappho and Sushi Bar which catered to the Friday Night Fashionably Dyke
crowd in my rental what-ever-the-fuck it was and just watched the
spectacle unfold as it were. I had already totally forgotten why it was
I had to pull over and use the phone, when….I realized I had begun to
finger my cock. Lord. I am a total loss.

I conjectured that Tara had lost an engagement ring up in Thora’s uterus
while finger-fucking her under the table after drinking too many
Lime-Daiquiris. Now she was trying to get her little 3 carat
proof-of-vows back before she had to get back into her BMW and weave
back and forth over the center line all the way back to The Valley.

It was then the Ultimate Hug-Bunny of my sick middle-aged fantasies
shoved her “date”, Tara, back rather abruptly into the phone-book shelf,
and staggered out into the middle of the lot and projectile-puked god
knows how many lime-green drinks and little pieces of octopus out into
the middle of traffic. She’d hosed down a stretch-limousine seven
windows long and made a fire-truck swerve across the center-line before
running out of ammo. I almost applauded. I haven’t barfed so
wonderfully myself since an Ultimate Spinach Reunion Concert in Boston
in 1983. Tara wobbled out of the phone-booth, rubbing her kidneys,
wrinkled her nose, and shuddering like a Christian seeing a naked woman
for the first time, straightened her little black silk thing by Vera
Wang and tottered on her high boot-heels back into the estrogen-driven
roar of the club.

Thora looked amazed with herself, her pale aquamarine eyes blinking at
the stream of expensive foreign cars roaring by in the crisp October
midnight. She looked down her body. So I looked down her body. And
there we were both looking down her body – (but she didn’t spring a
SHWANG!). Poor Thora tried to reach down to pull up her zipper, but
unfortunately her slender arms were too short to reach past her pussy,
between her thighs, and up around back to the end of that rather
amazingly designed zipper. Inside me something quietly came up from
behind and stood beside the lust in my heart. I had no business here.
If I knew how to use the phone in motel rooms I would have never stopped
here on my way back to my motel. But suddenly I wanted her to see me.
I wanted her to see me see her. It hurt. It hurt like desire. I have
been sober since Thora was a blond toddler selling breakfast food on
television commercials with an old guy who starred in that movie Cocoon,
so I must have entered what I have heard called a “dry drunk” because,
throwing all caution to the wind, I coughed to clear my throat leaned
out my window and said:

“Can I help you Miss?”

Thora nodded slowly like she was being asked to remember the formula for
finding the volume of a cube using only the length of a side. She
smiled slightly, a wet kitten tongue extending to moisten her full
crimson lips. If my cock had sprung out any harder I wouldn’t have been
able to twist around and get out of the car. I grinned like a sailor
opening a door for a Girl-scout and her Grandmother. I ambled like
Frank Sinatra over to this Ava Gardner sized package of female heat. Up
close I saw her swaying gently from being so stoned. I saw that her
breasts were swaying in the cold air, their nipples stiff and white
flesh goose-bumped – and immediately went into a mental state the
Pentagon likes to call Shock and Awe – she was no less than the
ultimate embodiment of the Goddess of Fucking. “Get a grip – and not
on your dick!” – I told myself, and regained control of all my limbs
but That One. Stepping behind her I pushed the zipper down over her
milky ass with my left hand and reached under her crotch with my right
to grab the fly and pull it back up her pale naked belly and over what
must have been a set of 35-G Cup breasts. I could feel my face sway in
time with them. STOP THAT! When this act of assistance was completed
she looked up at me and mumbled an amused giggle. Her eyes seemed to
each arrive to meet mine at a slightly different time, but once there
she didn’t seemed displeased at what she saw. Her head fell back, her
wet black curls hanging damply over her leather clad shoulders. She
opened her mouth in a red oral letter “O”, panting little clouds of
exhalation at my face. A face which I hoped had Helpful-Stranger
concern written all over it. She was so baby-faced, I felt like
grabbing her ears and Roto-Rootering her gullet with my tongue. ( I
know – “Eeeahwwww, she just barfed!” – I think I’m a creepazoid too.)

“I’m a little wasted” she said with remarkable clarity. “Dinner was
great – wanna fuck?”

I am ashamed I didn’t try to unwrap all the mistakes this statement on
her part represented.

God gave Man a Cock and a Brian but not enough blood to run both at the
same time. Proof? I would have sold my soul to Satan to see my cum
shoot up her face in long gooey streams that covered her face with
melting pearls and hung like lamps in her hair. Proof? Before I die I
need to see Thora Birch lick the hole in the end of my dick as it pumps
lumpy cream up over her tongue and gags her until she coughs and drools
semen down onto her pendulous knockers. Proof? I want to – oh
hell,… you get the idea.

She was nodding like she was continually agreeing with a lecture I was
giving, but I had myself been effectively rendered completely mute by
her bosoms, which I now thought of by the names Shock and Awe. I led
her around to the passenger side of my rental and let her plop in. A
little voice started screaming like a knat in my right ear running down
the whole Legal Code and a shining line of reasons I just couldn’t be
doing what I was doing. But on the other hand, my cock had already
soaked through the polyester of my pants and made a little round stain
of fresh pre-cum – so I ignored this little voice of reason.

I would lay down on the gurney in The Big House and take a Needle like a
serial-killer if I could just – oh shit. As you may have guessed
already: the very thought of balling Birch makes me rave and drool like
a rampant fool. It also makes me Verbal. Hang on and you’ll se just
how I mean this.

Once we were both in my rented car and pulled out of the parking-lot,
Thora began to stare at the windshield like it were a wide-screen IMAX
presentation of RAN. She was tranquil and yet completely alert like a
warm cat the whole ride back to the Mirage Motel in Santa Monica. We
drove in silence all the way down through the grim 1950s brick
street-fronts and vacant strip malls to the on-ramp. Rain began to melt
the night-life like a still wet water color. The wipers went swish,
swish as I pulled onto the Santa Monica Freeway North. I looked over at
her and felt the briefest twinge of conscience. She came up to me
mid-chest like a girl in junior-high school. Was she in an open-eyed
black-out? She breathed slooooow and rather hypnotically, and as calm
as a baby on her mother’s breast. I should NOT have said breast.
Suddenly I hit the gas hand as we hooked onto the San Diego transition
and headed back South towards LAX. I hit the Beach turn-off just in time.

Somehow I lost 20 minutes there. It was like the lost-time you get from
an Alien Abduction. I returned to my body, heart hammering in my chest
as I pushed open the door to Room 23 and dropped the card-key on the
desk next to the ugly lava-lamp and directions for dialing the Front
Desk. The room was on the ground floor, and a pimp was screaming at a
sobbing hooker in the parking lot outside. Thora seemed to recall this
floor-plan from a hundred heated trysts, for she disappeared into the
bathroom and I soon heard the shower running. I sat on the bed,
actually trembling. I am a 53 year old man, and I recalled the silly
look on Kevin Spacey’s face in the film American Beauty where he lay on
his bed, grinning a goofy grin as he stared up at a fantasy of a skinny
Mena Suvari floating there like a sweet wish, covered with red rose
petals, under the ceiling. I laughed out loud in the theater, thinking:
“What an ass that old guy is, lusting after some young chick!”. Then
when the gentle magic of the scene where this guy’s own daughter takes
off her shirt in the window came, I felt my own face take on the very
same goofy grin of rapture. I knew right then and there I was busted.
I was no better than him. Shit. I should NOT have said Busted.
Suddenly in a hurry again I yank off my coat, and find a soft jazz
station on the bed-side clock-radio.

Thora padded out of the clouds of steam from the bathroom, and in the
back-light, stood like a naked fertility goddess carved of cream colored
Aztec opal. She was painted with the same huge eyes and wet heaps of
hair that I remembered from a statue of Ishtar found in ancient
Babylon. And as if this cheap motel-room were the Garden of Eden she
lay across the bed as tranquil as Eve herself, naked on the soft green
grass beside the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

“Turn on some Porn” she whispered, her eyes sweeping toward the
Television. I found something called Bi-&-Beyond XIX – Cancun Pool
Party, and while people so pretty it didn’t matter who you made love to
seethed like a pit full of snakes in heat on the television behind me,
I walked away from my shadow, and pulled my shirt off as I sat next to
her. We watched the careless Demi-Gods of young flesh ripple and surge
in the sunshine for awhile, then Thora rolled on her side, her heavy
breasts sagging onto the white sheet, and ran her tongue up my naked
wrist. She whispered: “Got any drugs?” Wordlessly I got a baggy with a
rock-crystal of crack cocaine out of my wallet. I had bought it from a
dealer on the street so as to pay a hooker with something she wanted
enough that she wouldn’t feel the urge to bicker me over the price of a
“half and half” in the front seat. I got a little pipe from where I hid
it atop a curtain rod, and fueled the flame on the rock until she
coughed and wiped her wonderful mouth with the back of her hand. Her
huge eyes rolled up to me, glazed with pleasure and insinuation. She
threw back the covers and cocked her left leg up so I could smell the
wet almond and salmon scent of her gaping cunt. “See anything you like?”

I pushed her creamy shoulder back so she fell onto her back, soft bosoms
rolling on her pale ribs. Her belly felt as soft as a baby’s cheek as I
flattened my hand and rubbed her tummy in slow circles. When her thighs
fell apart she sighed, her child-like face almost poignant with desire.
I leaned over her thighs and dropped my head so I could lick forward
from the rise of her vaginal cleft and down deep into her hot cunt all
the way back to the tender flesh between her pussy and her anus. Thora
bit her lush lower lip and pushed her sweet head back into the pillow
when my tongue drove down between her pink labia and into her salty
vulva. I fanned the the streaming ridges of her nether-lips with my
tongue, intentionally avoiding her clitoris, (but coming close!), until
she began to curse and twist. I felt her fingers dig into the hair of
the back of my head as she shoved my greedy face into her bubbling gape,
making me directly lash the rolling wet pink pearl of her joy. She
began to keen deep in her chest as if she were mourning a lost child,
and this shuddering child-woman guided my hungry cunt eating until after
her third orgasm she made me stop, gasping for air. I rolled her toward
me onto her belly, and I pulled the full moons of Thora’s ass globes
apart. Desperate with longing , I tongued the bitter savor of her
ass-hole until she thrust her ass up, reaching under her own belly, and
began fingering her own bubbling slit until she came again, her ass
shaking my face like a terrier with a rat.

Momentarily spent, Thora began to inexplicably begin to cry, hugging her
pillow like a little girl clutching a stuffed lion on a stormy night. I
lay beside her and reaching around her pale head, grasped her by the jaw
and pulled her face up to kiss. We kissed. We continued kissing as we
got our breath back, and our sweating backs began to cool and feel the
chill of the air-conditioning. She began to tug and chew on my lower
lip with her hungry pouting mouth. Her little white teeth drew some
blood and her eyes looked up to mine as if to see if I was angry. She
saw the wrath of lust not the wrath of anger there. Thora grasped my
face and shut my eyes with kisses. I felt her lick my eyes through my
eye-lids. Suddenly I found my pants were down around my thighs I was
humping the damp sheet under my belly. I stoked her back and sipped my
hand into her ass, massaging the fat butt-cheeks apart. Then I slipped
my right index finger deep to the knuckle into her anal pucker. With a
sweet tiny snarl she closed her pale green eyes and pumped her ass up,
grinding her creamy ass-globes in a circle, fucking my hand back hard as
my hand raped deeply into her. I twisted three fingers into her colon,
reaming her sacredly bitter holiness. Tears began to flow down the
syrup-packed peach halves of her cheeks.

My own eyes moist, I withdrew my hand and after holding her eyes with
mine I licked my fingers clean. Then I stripped the rest of the way. I
poised myself over her naked child-like back, and clutched at her
shoulders, pressing the throbbing head of the most passionate erection I
have ever had in my life against the pucker of her anus. Swallowing,
Thora asked me:

“Do you like me better as a Goth girl, or did you like me as a blond, or
as a brunette?”

Not knowing the right answer, I answered by wiping her hair to the side
and giving her a deep bite into the wet soft flesh at the back of her
neck. ” I just…” I said as she relaxed her sphincter ring to accept
my steady irrevocable press deep into her bowel. I began a rhythmic
pelvic thrusting of my cock in and out of her ass, holding myself up by
pressing my hands into the mattress on both sides of her head. “I just
like you baby.” She twisted and bit my left wrist, then turned her eyes
up to my face. She dropped her lower jaw, kitten tongue extending like
a hot promise as I covered her mouth with mine, opening my jaw wide, and
our tongues fucked like weasels with a fever. And I fucked her and
fucked her and fucked her burning soft ass chute until sweat streamed
down her shoulders and washed the small of her white back. Growling we
ground our join together until I began wrenching my prick side to side,
raping her tight butt-hole, panting and blinking the sweat out of my
eyes. Suddenly we both shuddered and wrenched against each other. I
sobbed as stream after aching stream of exploding white ropes of sperm
shot up from my balls up my shaft and up, deep, deep, into the sacred
and twisting meat deep in her female guts.

We both kicked the remaining sheets and blankets off the bed and
shuddered on our hands and kness beside each other like two fighters who
had both been knocked down. Now it was a matter of who could claw their
way back off the canvas to their feet again! Thora’s soft belly rolled
and streamed with salty sweat as she gasped and tried to stare me down
with a lunatic stare. I watched saliva flow down her tongue over her
lip and hang swinging from her white chin for a few heart-beats before
dropping to the mattress. She saw how mad I was for her and snickered.
She shoved me over, still gasping, onto my back, and dropped her wet
head onto my lap. Thora sucked my soft cock into her mouth and swishing
spit around it with her burning tongue, she cleaned her own shit from it
as she sucked and sucked and sucked until I was hard again. Swinging a
soft thigh over my hips, she squatted on my cock and looked up at me
from under lowered lids as we came into sinc – me thrusting her up,
making her belly ripple and her heavy dugs sway – she grinding her
sopping red cunt in small circles, and snorting to get air, as she was
biting her lips. A plane took off in the distance and gained height as
we started our avalanche together down the mountain of lust. Thora
actually began to mumble to herself, snapping her face back and forth,
sending a spray of sweat from her wet black hair.

Then Thora sat up and arched her back, making her pendulous breasts roll
wildly on her rib-cage. Now she was rising higher with my every fuck,
and plopping down harder onto my hips. Each copulation made my prick
drag through the wet silk walls of her vulva like a finger through the
hot female meat. Some guy began to laugh like an idiot. She chimed in
with a school-girl trill of mirth of her own. We were laughing and
fucking and fucking and laughing! I couldn’t remember any reason in the
world I should feel bad. I was happy. I was happy. I was happy.

“Baby, make me baby, give me baby, baby, make me baby, give me baby,
baby, make me baby, give me baby, baby, make me baby, give me
baby…oooohhhhh, babe.” Thora began to chant over and over deep in her
throat, her wet boobs slapping me in the face as I pulled her down onto
me – out fucking took over and we were swept away, and lost down stream.

“Oh GOD.” I shouted as if shot. “GOT!” My balls wrenched so hard they
ached and molten pearls shot up my cock and streamed burning deep up
into her womb. Thora licked out my ear, and shuddered like a train
slamming on the emergency brakes. Her pupils had disappeared up into
her head. I said: “yes”. And she nodded: “yes”.

We squeezed together, eyes shut, and gasping. Recovering I pulled my
wet softening cock out of her still spasmodically clenching cunt with a
pop, and rolled her back onto her back, and just beheld her glistening,
soft fleshiness. She had a working-class girl’s face and figure with
the eyes of an angel and the mouth of a scared whore in some Canaanite
Temple to Astarte. Yet we lay beside each other as innocently as two
babies. After I regained my second second-wind, I pulled her toward
me, still hungry for her. I spread my fingers wide and gathered up her
heavy bosoms in my hands. I kneaded and massaged her breasts until my
obsession with them became ridiculous, even to me. We laughed out loud
together, and embraced like long separated friends, and I could feel her
laughter deep in my chest and I could feel my laughter pass through her
soft sweet body and vibrate the creamy shoulders under my fingers.
Chortling like a witch who sees two school-children come up the path to
her ginger-bread cottage, she let me continue to reach under her chest
and twist and wrench her dangling boobs up against her ribs as she
pushed her head down to my already pumping hips and took my eager cock
into her sucking mouth. I yanked and squeezed her melon-meat as I
fucked Thora’s skull, faster and faster – each thrust making her open
her throat wider to accept my cock down her throat!

As I thrust my slobber streaming cock into her face all the girls I have
ever fucked rolled past my eyes like leaves on a fast running stream.
With each face I felt a flush of regret as I thought of how I could have
treated her better. But soon I was all but insane with rut as I rammed
Thora’s mouth. I rammed her mouth as saliva gushed out between her red
lips and my pumping piston. I rammed her mouth as her hot spit soaked
my rolling balls. I rammed her mouth until she choked and gagged and I
pumped dollop after dollop after dollop of burning cum through her
throat into her belly. Shaking my prick in her face as she pulled her
head back she raised her head up, raising her eyes to mine, sperm
flowing over her swollen lower lip, and running down her chin. She
opened her mouth wide, so I could see the white pool of semen on the
soft ladle of the red tongue inside. Then Thora Birch threw her head
back and swallowed my ejaculation, gulping, working her throat, her huge
eyes never leaving mine. She wiped her incredible wet mouth with the
back of her hand and leered back at me. And her leer turned to a sweet
laughing smile as I saw her see the way I looked at her. She saw me.
She saw me stroke her face and blink in wonder all thoughts of today or
yesterday or tomorrow all burned up and gone. Groaning, I pulled her
soft, womanly, body to mine, and she lay her head in the crook of my
neck. She wrapped her arms around me, and peace received me like a wave
rolling back out toward the horizon.

In the light of morning I lay on my lonely motel bed, open my eyes, and
look over at the hash-pipe next to my keys on the dresser beside the
bed. Oh. I remember. And floating just below the ceiling I can see
the ghost of Thora Birch floating like a naked mermaid on a wave,
beckoning to me with arms that sung to me a sad hula story about a
goddess of a burning mountain and the lovers who had to burn up to join
her there. I smile a goofy smile and laced my fingers behind my head
and lay against the pillow, thoughtful. I am what I am. What you see
is what you get. And isn’t that the meaning of Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, one
of the Names of God? The harsh light and traffic noise is increasing in
volume outside the coarse grey drapes. And as my heart beats, thump
thump, red rose petals fall spinning upward from my heart to her, as if
this child of the earth had to answer the moon-ruled sky that rained so
hard upon it with an upward falling rain of his own. Look at the moon!
Clouds pass across it like the shapes of unfulfilled desires cast by a
lantern upon a bone white wall.

I am awake. I realized I had begun to cock my finger. So I silently go
Bang Bang at her ghost and make my ghost world dissolve like smoke. I
begin to hum – “Bang, bang, I shot you down!” With waking we must
shoot right through our dreams to hit the reality of the ceiling beyond
them. We must kill them or we will surely ourselves die.

Now I will have to go out into the real world in which ordinary people
dress up like ballerinas and noble knights and bandits and cruel kings
and dragons – a world where lonely men have no choice but to take the
monk’s vows of silence and solitude and enter into a dungeon-like
hermitage on the mountain of loneliness and build a mountain retreat in
the deep forest of the faceless crowd. I am no better than anyone
else…or worse. I gather up the pipe and my real life and pull up my

Under a pale and full moon.

Another Old Saying: After sex – all animals are sad

Alan Smithee
19:16 pm ; 11 – 03 – 2003

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