Men I've slept with...Actor Edition

I have regrown the sense of exhibition I need to write this. Well, that, and I'm horny. I can't bring myself to masturbate while on the rag, so I am dragging out this old blog again.
I have known Actor for awhile. I never bothered with him before that night, as he is the kind of guy who
1. refers to himself in the third person.
2. puts a "the" in front of his name when he says it.
I never understood college actor types, or rather, the college theatre programs that breed them. I imagine a Stuart Smalley type support group on crack. Anyways, Actor is short, with pale skin, dark hair and eyes. He is a nugget of a man.
Boyfriend and I had just broken up, and I was still telling myself I was not looking to get laid while fantasizing about getting reamed by revenge dick. We ran into eachother unexpectedly at a sports party, that to this day I am convinced I was invited to as a joke. (Sports no, Shoes yes.) We ended up making out three hours and two bars later. When he pulled me onto his lap, my inital fear of crushing him was quickly replaced by shock at his huge dick. We decided that I needed to go home with him. While we waited for the bar tab, we chatted about our mutual friends. (All actresses.) I figured that he had slept with them all...later on I found out that I was right. It reminded me of Law Student. When I asked him his "number" he told me that it was none of my business. I never slept with him, partially because of that. But with Actor, it made me all the more determined.
We snuck into his bedroom, afraid of waking up his roommate. We kissed as he peeled off my clothes. I was terrified that my puss smelled sweaty, and I froze up when he tried to touch my spiky calves. And, when my bra came off, I was worried that he would think my D's were droopy. Even when I prepare for sex with matching underwear, silky legs, and a bare fresh cooch, I still worry about my tits.
I reminded myself that I was in bed with a man, and got to work on his pants. I always go for the pants first. Disrobing a guy by myself always seems too romantic. Plus, I wanted to suck him off for a little bit. I do it because I love the weight of a cock in my mouth, and because I'm good at it. I feel a need to make my mark even with guys I don't like. When I felt the taut vein ridges in his cock with the tip of my tounge, I stopped. He took off his shirt, and pulled a condom from a purple (?) velvet (!) box on his nightstand. I stretched out on the bed, showing off my rib cage. My boobs settled into soft orbs with the nipple perfectly centered, a shape Boyfriend liked to stroke in the morning, calling them "his Jell-o molds". Actor took my ankles and spread my legs. When he settled himself on top of me, I put my legs down and around him. (Noting that his heels touched my shins.) His traps flexed as he pushed his way inside of me. His cock reached all the way to the back. I was greatful for it's thickness and length. He hurt me as he thrusted, and he put his hand over my mouth as I gasped and screamed. It turned me on, which made the screaming worse.
I guess I am like a porno chick, as I scream from the moment I'm stuck. He put me on my knees, and fucked me from behind. He asked to fuck my ass, and despite his politeness I refused. He felt good right where he was. I relished the sensation of cool air on the hot juice that had trickled down to my thighs. I felt deliciously dirty, like I was sticking it to Boyfriend as hard as Actor was sticking it to me. Even though I thought I was being uninhibited, I was not comfortable with Actor like I was with Boyfriend. I asked Actor if he would be offended if I rubbed my clit. I did not tell him that I wasn't going to come without it....even though he had the dick and the stroke I had longed for.
We switched back into missionary. I felt my pussy spasm, and I dug into my clit even harder. I was determined to push all the thoughts out of my head and ride out this orgasm for all it was worth. My back arched, I could barely hear him say, "That's right, come baby." over my screams. He kept on fucking me for me. I wished that he would hurry up and come.
Fifteen minutes later, he collapsed on the bed beside me. I didn't really want to look at him. We shared a ciggarette, and I slunk out the door. We didn't even trade phone numbers.
Since then, we have run into eachother at parties, never mentioning my O face, or the unfortunate tattoo on his stomach. Boyfriend and I got back together, and he still does not know about Actor....or the men that followed.