I can’t quite remember the year – probably either ’59 or ’60. I had been a struggling journalist for years in Hollywood – I had a few good breaks, but I was still virtually a nobody. I hung around bars on the Sunset Strip, hoping to catch some big star in the middle of something seedy, take their picture, and get a big story on them. It was just such a night, in just such a bar, when I met Marilyn Monroe.
I was sitting at the bar having a few drinks – Jack Daniels and coke – when I spotted a lovely blonde at a corner table, all by herself. Now, I was on duty somewhat, but even journalists get horny. I sauntered over to the table to make my move.
“Hi there Miss…Wouldya like some company?” I tried to sound amiable, not like some sleazy bar-fly. The blonde looked up. It took me a second to realize who it was. It was Marilyn Monroe, THE Marilyn. The delectable blonde goddess who was the princess of every wet dream in the world. And she was here, in a seedy Sunset Strip bar.
“Oh…oh…uhh..” She looked a bit flustered and closed the script she had been reading. “Sure Mr., sit down. To tell you the truth, I was kinda lonely anyway.”
She then noticed my camera. Her eyes darkened. “Oh..you’re a journalist”, she spat, saying the word ‘journalist’ as though it were the name of a new STD.
“Now wait just a second!” I sputtered. “It’s not like that. In fact I had no idea who you were til I came over here!” I removed the roll of blank film from the camera and set it in the ashtray.
“Feel better now?” I said. Marilyn grinned and nodded. I motioned for the bartender and ordered us two martinis.
I still could hardly believe it. I was having drinks with Marilyn Monroe. She was gorgeous, but without the artificial glamor of the movies. She wore a figure hugging, sleeveless black dress and black pumps. She fluttered her big blue eyes at me and grinned. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought she was flirting with me. But being who she was, that was probably how she acted with everyone.
After we had a few martinis I could tell she was getting tipsy. Then the unbelievable happened. She stood, and put on her fur wrap, and said to me, “Would you like to come to my hotel room? I’m having my apartment painted this weekend, so I had to take a hotel room for now”.
Trying to act cool and unsurprised, I agreed, and we began to walk to her hotel. Inside I was going nuts. I was just invited up to Marilyn Monroe’s hotel room! Boy, every fellow in the world would kill to be in my shoes tonight. Still, I thought, no need to jump to conclusions. She’s probably just lonely and wants some company, I told myself. But the thought of banging America’s love goddess wouldn’t get out of my mind, and to keep my cock from getting ahead of itself, I made small talk with Marilyn as we walked.
Finally we were in her room. We looked at each other awkwardly and smiled. She sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette, and motioned for me to join her. I sat next to her and stared. Her hair was almost platinum – the palest blonde possible. It hung in small curls and waves around her face. Her skin wasn’t pale nor tan – but a smooth, soft-looking peaches and cream color. The little black dress she was wearing clung to her figure as she sat, and was riding up her thighs, revealing to me the tops of her stockings. She didn’t seem to notice. Her ruby-red mouth curled around her cigarette and she began to chatter: about her latest movie, about her bitchy co-stars, about her latest divorce.
Suddenly she became saddened. She looked up at me with those sad doe eyes and in her hushed little girl voice (which was slightly slurred now, thanks to those martinis), said to me, “Would you believe it? I’m supposed to be America’s sex goddess, and I’ve never even had a good lay?”
Such candid talk from her caught me off guard, and also aroused me. I thought of what to say, but she continued.
“I mean, I’ve had movie stars, leading men, big shot producers, sports heroes, you name it – not one of them any good! Maybe I’m just frigid. Or maybe sex isn’t supposed to be great. In that case I don’t know what the big deal is about!”
I stared at her, this lovely, voluptuous creature before me, not believing my ears. How unfortunate, how ironic that a sex goddess has never even enjoyed sex! I made up my mind then and there that before I left Marilyn’s hotel room that night, she certainly would know what the big deal was about.
I moved closer to her, looking into her vast, pale blue eyes.
“Maybe you don’t need big shot famous guys. Maybe you just need a regular old guy to show you what it’s all about. Have you ever thought of that?”
With that I grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. At first she was taken aback and tried to move away, but then she fell into my kiss, making small moans in her throat. I kissed her like that, deep and hard, for several minutes, just savoring the feeling of kissing a screen queen – a priviledge usually reserved for the handsome, rich Casanova-types.
I pulled away from her. Her eyes were still closed, and she looked as though she were caught in a dream-state.
She said nothing as she rose and took my hand and led me back to the bedroom.
Once there, I kissed her again, this time pressing my body completely against hers.
My cock was growing impatient, wanting attention, ready to cum on the spot as the bombshell’s impressive bosom pressed into me. I tried to calm myself down mentally. I wasn’t going to cum anytime soon – this would be Marilyn’s first night of real pleasure, and I wasn’t going to rush it.
She coiled her arms around my neck. Still kissing her, I began running my hands up and down her body, making an exciting discovery. What the tabloids always said was true – Marilyn Monroe really didn’t wear a bra. Yet her breasts seem to defy every known law of gravity, firm and pointing straight out at me. I ran my hands down to her tiny waist, and over her luscious hips, where I made another discovery: Feeling no panty lines, I supposed the other rumor I had heard about her was true also – she didn’t wear any underwear at all.
I noticed she smelled like expensive perfume – Chanel No. 5 perhaps? – as I nuzzled at her neck and ears. Her moans became louder and more excited, and she threw her head back in abandon.
I found the zipper at the back of her dress and unzipped her. She pulled away from me and let the dress fall to the floor. Now she was wearing nothing but sheer stockings and black heels. And Chanel No. 5, of course.
Now folks, alot has been made about how voluptuous Marilyn Monroe was in comparison to the actresses today. This is absolutely true. In all my years as a journalist, interviewing tons of people from all walks of life, I have never seen a finer figure. People today try and say she was fat, but oh no! They never saw her like I saw her. She stood there nearly naked before me and I tried to drink it all in: The gravity defying, perfectly rounded jutting breasts, the well-toned stomach, the small waist flowing into the curve of womanly hips, the shapely legs, accentuated by the stockings and heels. Her pubic hair was trimmed, and a dark honey-blonde colour.
Marilyn looked up at me expectantly. I didn’t know what to say, so I grabbed her and picked her up, and carried her over to the bed. I climbed on top of her, kissing her wildly and running my hands over her warm, creamy, flawless skin. She felt good, pinned down underneath me.
I moved down her body, forcing myself to take it slow. How I wanted to ravage her, right then and there! But no, then I’d be like all the others. I had to please her first, I had to make her scream, moan, sigh with pleasure.
I worked on one of her nipples with my tongue, pleased at her reaction. She gyrated her hips against me and squealed with glee. I continued to play with her nipple with my mouth, and my hand moved to the other one, twisting and teasing it. Her breast felt good in my hand, heavy, unbelievably firm. Unlike most women’s tits, that slide into their armpits when they lay down, hers stayed exactly the same, perfectly firm and upright.
I looked up at her. Her mouth was open, breathing hard, her hair was tousled and in her face, her eyes were closed. “No one’s gonna believe me when I tell them about this”, I thought, laughing to myself.
I slid down her body more, licking and kissing her tummy. I felt her stomach muscles twitch and jump at my touch. I moved one hand underneath her, curling my arm around her waist. With the other I began stroking the inside of her thigh.
She reached down and began grabbing at my hair, gasping a little.
I moved my hand down and stroked the outside of her box softly, marvelling at how silky the hair was. Marilyn was gyrating even more now, arching her back and humping at my hand. I realized she was becoming impatient, so I quickly moved down her body.
Face to face with a sex goddess’s twat.
Before I dove in, I first explored her, running my finger over her folds, over her little button, dipping slightly into her wetness. She sat up sharply.
“What are you doing?!?” she exclaimed, alarmed.
“What, your big shot movie producers never did this for you? Just relax, you’ll love it.”
She looked at me, unsure, but lay back anyway.
I began slowly working her clit with my tongue, making circles around it, increasing pressure gradually.
“Ooohh!!!” she cooed in that famous sex kitten voice. She bucked her hips against me, making it hard for me to keep my mouth on her. I reached up to hold her hips in place.
I went in for the kill, sucking at her clit just hard enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain. I moved one of my fingers into her wet, eager opening, then two, then three. I worked them in and out of her while I sucked her clit, which I guess she liked, because she suddenly slipped out of her submissive stance and began issuing orders.
“Faster! Harder, dammit!”
I obeyed, jabbing my fingers harder and deeper into her, and licking her clit as fast as humanly impossible.
“Oh! Jesus! Fuck!” Was the response I got, and she ground her twat into my face as I pushed her over the edge of what could’ve been her first orgasm. She grabbed my hair and pushed my face into her box as she rode her climax. I looked up briefly to see her beautiful face contorted by the throes of ecstacy. Her wetness poured now, and her passageway was gripping my fingers with the spasms of her orgasm.
Finally it subsided, and her muscles relaxed. I licked at her ample juices, noting how sweet she tasted. I crawled my way back up to the bed and lay next to her, watching her recover.
At last she looked at me, beaming. “That was just amazing. I’ve never felt anything like that before! Thank you.” Suddenly she became aware of the fact that I was still dressed, still unsatisfied, still rock hard and waiting.
“Oh..I’m sorry! You’re probably getting blue balls by now, or something.” She giggled and pushed me on my back, unzipping my pants.
“Oh Marilyn. You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve had to do that to a million of those greedy big shot producers, and you probably hate it.”
What was I saying? Of course I wanted her to suck my cock. Luckily, she said, “Well, you’re right – I have done it alot. But I want to do this for you, you’ve done so much for me already.”
She smiled sweetly and pulled out my 7 inch cock, which was already oozing pre-cum. With all the skill she had acquired as a budding starlet, she leaned down and wrapped her luscious red lips around the head. She slid it slowly into her mouth and down her throat, working the underside with her tongue. She pulled it back, still sucking, and back in, and out, increasing the intensity with each time. One of her hands was gripped around the base of my cock, the other was fondling my balls. I had a great view of the whole thing – the famous movie star face, which had graced a million magazines, sliding up and down my stiff dick, her breasts bobbing and slapping together a little with her movements.
She was working it so fast that I knew I was about to cum soon. I watched her tits, now slapping together hard, and concentrated on her warm little mouth, bringing me to climax.
“Shit!” was all I could get out as I began spurting. I kept my eyes open, because I just had to see her swallow my cum. But to my surprise she pulled away and jacked me off with her hand, aiming my dick at her chest. Realizing what was about to happen, I came so hard it nearly hurt – squirting all over her tits. Some landed on her chin and some in her hair. She kept pumping til I was completely drained, and then she spread my cum all over her chest with her hands, grinning at me.
Jesus! No one had ever given me head like that. But then, no one had ever had so much experience, not like Marilyn.
Normally, it took me awhile to get my cock ready to go again, but not this time. About 5 minutes later, I was hard again. We were both lying on the bed, her still naked, when she noticed my hard-on.
“I thought I took care of that!” she laughed. I smiled at her and rolled on top of her, sliding my cock over her box. She moaned lightly, scrambling out from underneath me and getting on all fours.
“This way, this is how I want it.”
Naturally, I wasn’t about to argue with
Marilyn Monroe, naked with her ass in the air, waiting for me, so I positioned myself behind her. Taking hold of her waist with one hand, I led my cock into her with my other. Wow! For someone who had supposedly been around, she sure was tight. My cock rammed into her.
I began fucking her at a steady, even speed, relishing her moans and squeals. I leaned back so I could see it all: My big, engorged cock and her gorgeous ass. Although it was pretty firm, it jiggled a little each time I slammed into her. I leaned forward and grabbed hold of her swaying tits, pinching the nipples as she cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain. I was about to start playing with her clit, hoping to make her cum again, when she stopped suddenly and pulled away.
Wordlessly, Marilyn pushed me on my back and climbed on top of me. She slowly mounted my cock, easing all 7 inches into her twat. She arched her back and moaned. Her hands were running through her hair, which was a platinum tangled mess by now, and over her breasts, making her nipples hard. She bounced up and down on my dick, her tits bouncing with her. She was building up speed, slamming down on my cock harder and harder, her cunt twitching and convulsing, gripping and hugging my cock tight.
I could feel myself nearing another orgasm when suddenly she fell forward on me, grabbing my wrists and holding me down. Marilyn’s tits slapped against my chest as she rode me hard. Her eyes were no longer sad doe eyes, but instead the hungry, wild, primal eyes of a lustful woman. She stared into my eyes as she came, gritting her teeth and hollering.
As soon as her orgasm ended, and she stopped holding me down, I rolled over on top of her to finish. Raising her legs up and slinging them over my shoulders, I pounded into her twat, eager to shoot my load into America’s number one bombshell. I clenched my teeth and fucked her, trying to push in deeper each time. Marilyn’s body became alive again too, jumping and moving, and I realized I must be hitting her G spot. I thumbed at her clit a little and she came again, this time pulling me with her. Her tight, soaked, velvety, spasming pussy milked my cock clean, and I shot deep and hard into her.
She was gasping, trying to get her breath, and I pulled out of her. My seed and her juices spilled out from her twat. I started to lay back on the bed with her, but I realized she was exhausted, and I should probably go.
I smiled at her, and sensing my departure, she jumped up and put on a robe.
“I’ll see you out”, she said, and I tucked my cock into my pants as she led me into the front room.
We smiled at each other and I hugged her. “Thanks for a great night, Marilyn”, I told her. “No! Thank you…I mean, I’ve never had sex like that. Most men are so greedy and just think of themselves. This was just so wonderful.”
I kissed her forehead and told her to take care of herself. I bounded down the steps and into the street. If I hadn’t have smelled like Chanel No. 5, I’d been convinced it was all a dream. But no, I had really fucked Marilyn Monroe, and what’s more, I got her off – not once, but three times. I gave her a night of pleasure, which I guess she needed, considering how sad and lonely she always was.
A couple of years later, Marilyn died. I remember feeling so sad. Even though we didn’t share much conversation that night, she really was a sweet, beautiful girl that I’ll never forget.
I’m an old man now, and I’ve long since passed my womanizing days. I got married, had kids, and now I’m a proud grandfather. But I still think about that wonderful night in L.A., in that hotel room – my night with Marilyn.