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I’d offered to work backstage for this theatre company, just amateurs so no one famous. I was new to the town and thought it would be a good way of getting to know some people. During the rehearsals for the play they were doing (a pretty dull show if you ask me) I started to notice one cast member in particular. His name was Mallon, which is a pretty obscure name, and he was a redhead. Real copper red, deep coloured short hair. Nice. I reckoned he was in his early twenties though spoke as if he was younger, in that he used a lot of slang and street talk that for me, aged 36, sounded phoney. It did give him a certain naivety that I found alluring though and, as I watched him practice I started to warm towards him.

I sat in the dark wings of the stage with a dim torch, staring at the script and prompting the actors when the forgot lines and, from time to time, I noticed that Mallon would glance towards me. As my eyes darted continuously from book to stage I caught glimpses of him and the more I watched the more I started to fall for him. Until, at the final dress rehearsal, I knew that I had to have him, in some form or another. He’d hardly spoken to me, he never needed a prompt and all I really knew about him by then was that he left straight after rehearsals to go drinking with his straight mates or to meet his girl. But the idea of somehow seducing him kept me going through the routine of practice. At least, from my position at the side of the stage, I got to watch him closely. I got an up front view of his youthful physique when he wore the tight shirt and jeans costume and I got a very close view of his crotch when he waited for his first entrance; standing right beside me so close I could smell his make up and nervousness. (He was getting more nervous as the opening night approached.)
Due to the way the set had been thrown together there was only one way to get from dressing rooms to stage. This meant that if an actor needed to enter from my side of the stage he would have to be in place before the show started and once there the only way he could leave was to go on stage. Mallon started in this place and had a twenty minute wait before his first entrance. So I got to see him semi-naked while he waited in the wings; (his character had been off stage ‘sunbathing’). He was very distracting.

Well, opening night came and backstage was a mass of tense, nervous activity. Hushed voices, rushing actors, a frantic director; the usual amateur opening night activity I guess. Everyone got their last call and I slipped across the stage to my seat in the darkness of the wings. A couple of seconds later and Mallon appeared, a dressing gown covering his near nakedness and keeping him warm. We nodded to each other and he showed me his hands, outstretched and shaking. We could hear the audience taking their seats and the news from out front was that it was a full house.

Mallon paced a little, mumbling some lines quietly, then stopped and breathed deeply.

‘Are you o.k.?’ I whispered.
‘Nervous as fuck,’ he whispered back.
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘I’m too fucking tense!’

The house lights dimmed, the audience fell silent and the music started to play as the curtain went up.

The first scene was between two women, done upstage and out of my sight line. It wasn’t a scene that they had trouble with; these two were the great old dames of the company and never dropped a line. I didn’t need to worry about them.

I felt young Mallon, the juvenile lead, standing beside me. I could feel the heat from his body and the touch of his dressing down as he stood nervously waiting for his entrance.

‘Getting hot,’ he said so quietly that I could hardly hear him.

The stage lights were heating up the theatre and I was already starting to sweat. I nodded, my eyes still on the book.

‘Need to cool down,’ he whispered again.

I felt the dressing gown slip from him and onto the floor. I stole a sideways glance as I always did at that point, to feast my eyes on the front of his shorts, only three inches away at eye level. But that night he was not wearing any shorts.

Gone were the baggy, swimming trunks he’d worn at rehearsal. For the actual performance he was totally nude.

Confused I checked my book, no mention of nudity. Maybe this was a last minute change by the director. The scene was going well on stage, I turned a page and looked back.

In the strangely coloured light spill from the stage Mallon’s pubes glowed a deep red, almost crimson. A shadow covered his upper torso from his puppy-fat stomach to above his head, he stood in darkness there. But beneath this shadow his body was illuminated by many colours and he stood like a stained-glass statue.

‘I need to calm down or I’ll blow it. Fuck!’ he cursed.

I just stared at his cock, hanging flaccid and heavy over his balls. He was cut and thick and I was already getting hard.

‘Blow it,’ he said again. And I realised that he was talking to me.
‘What?’ I hissed back.
‘Please man, get this tension off me. Blow me?’
‘Here?’

The only people who could see us were the two on stage, but they were off up the back, rattling through their lines. I checked the script, trembling myself now, and turned another page. There were only another ten pages of script to go before Mallon’s entrance. This was going to be my only chance.

I turned slightly in my seat, rested the script in my lap, put one arm around his smooth waist and drew him a little closer.

‘Please man,’ he begged again. But it was unnecessary. I didn’t need a second invitation.

I slipped his long, soft cock into my mouth and started working on it. Licking the cut head with my tongue as I calmly stroked his hairless backside. I felt his hand on my head, encouraging me to take more of his stiffening meat and, within a few seconds, my mouth was full to the throat with it. His flame red pubes brushed up against my nose and his wrinkled balls against my chin as his cock-head pressed and slid around at the back of my throat.

‘Jesus, that’s good,’ he whispered.

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