Angelina Jolie In The Tomb Raider

(Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author does not know Ms. Jolie.)

“Any time you’re ready,” the second-unit director called out. “Just let us know when.”

Angelina Jolie nodded her head but said nothing. She blinked her ocean-blue eyes and pursed her pouty lips as her every action caused a stir throughout the set. She stared straight ahead, her long fingers resting on the knot of her white terrycloth robe, and took several quick breaths to steady herself. She had never been the kind of actress who shied away from nudity, as her turn in Gia could attest, but despite her reputation as something of a free spirit she would almost always find herself growing more and more nervous the closer she came to actually following through. Today was no different.

“Alright,” she said, her accent going from her native American to British in mid-sentence. “Let’s do this.”

She exhaled and stepped out of her slippers, then untied her robe and let it fall to the floor.

She had been given the option of wearing pasties and flesh-colored panties, but decided against it out of fear it might clash with her style of acting. Now she was completely naked in front of her director and more than a dozen indispensable members of the technical crew, but instead of embarrassment at the cameras recording her every curve for posterity, she felt bolder and grew more arrogant the longer she remained uncovered. Because she was just that beautiful, that perfect–a trait she shared with her character Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider.

“Cameras rolling,” the director said. “And action!”

Angelina walked gracefully up faux marble steps, hypnotizing the crew with the sway of her hips, and circled the open shower at the center of a working set. This was Lara’s private bath in the film, and the shower was surrounded by opaque walls designed to show off her figure without allowing her private areas to be seen. It was a sop to the fans, as Lara Croft was quite well known for her impressive assets, but Angelina didn’t mind. She had never gone out of her way to become a world-wide sex symbol, but neither had she tried to escape from it.

She stepped into the shower and turned on the water, testing it a moment before letting it go at full power. She turned away and faced the nearest camera, then tilted her head back and raked her fingers through her hair. She stuck out her chest and put one foot forward, adopting the pose that seemed to come naturally to the very beautiful but had been instilled in her when she was just a teenager forced to sell her model looks to help support the family. She and Simon had gone back and forth on the tone of the film, knowing full well it would be a hard PG-13 in the states, but he had insisted on filming nude scenes in the hope that the studio would let him put out a full-tilt action film once it came time to produce the DVD. That was his background, and as such he had always insisted a proper action movie needed lots of violence and lots of tits. Angelina, ever the good star, had quickly relented. His dream might never happen, but she wasn’t about to be the one that crushed it. She had seen her father do that to her mother–coming by when he was drunk and brutally taking her while Angelina listened in the next room, treating her like his private whore before spitting in her face and telling her she was worthless–and she would rather die than inflict that kind of hurt on another human being.

She ran her hands over her body, not bothering to soap up or use shampoo as the point was to titillate the crowd, and moaned softly as she caressed her hard nipples and ran a hand between her long legs and touched her aroused sex. She could sense the others growing restless, could see them out of the corner of her eye giving each other curious looks, but she put that out of her mind and focused on the job at hand. There was no dialogue, no real meat to this section of the script: she had only to shower and look gorgeous doing it, something she could have done in her sleep–but she took it just as seriously as she would a scene of the utmost importance. An old-school actress at twenty-five, she didn’t coast even when she knew she could.

She reached back, slipping a hand between her supple cheeks, and teased her asshole with her fingertips. Her eyes fluttered, her chest began to heave, and a loud groan escaped her lips when she finally penetrated herself.

That was, of course, when the director decided they had gotten enough footage for a scene which would only last thirty seconds in the actual film, and called cut just when she was about to start rubbing her pussy.

Angelina opened her eyes and sighed as the water cut off and she was left cold and dripping. Somebody rushed over to put a towel around her shoulders, but she waved him off and turned to face the director.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not quite believing she was actually doing this. “It just didn’t feel right.”

She glanced around, saw the looks on the faces of the crew, and suddenly felt dirty and whorish, the way she had felt when she turned her first trick in order to help cover a growing drug habit.

“I really think we should do it again.”

The director frowned, clearly unsure about this, then shrugged and called for quiet. She was the star of the picture, who was he, a second-unit man, to deny her another take?

The water came back on, already giving off steam, and Angelina resumed her rubbing only moments before the call to action rang out. She turned away from the cameras, revealing new parts of herself to the audience, and ran her hands all over her strong upper body. She cupped her breasts, kneaded the large mounds, and moaned softly while she tweaked her hard nipples. Time slowed to a crawl as she worked her delicious body, and within moments she found herself all alone on the set, the director and the cameras and the crew all vanishing from her little world and leaving her alone to do whatever she liked with her beautiful figure.

She pressed her back to the solitary wall and ran a hand down to her smooth pubic mound. She ran her fingers in a slow circle, teasing herself, taunting her engorged clit with the promise of sexual release, then laughed and slid two fingers into her dripping pussy.

Angelina cried out as she pounded herself, rubbing her back raw against the set while she moved her whole self in time with her thrusts. She worked the fingers in and out, getting them nice and wet, then pulled them free and shoved them into her mouth. Her eyes went wide, the taste igniting her senses, and she made sure to suck them clean before slipping them back into her velvet tunnel for more.

She slowed her pace and focused more on turning from side to side, crooking her fingers so as to better stimulate her sensitive pink walls. The feeling was amazing, almost electric, and as she continued with her self-pleasure it was all she could do to remain upright, to keep her feet from slipping out from under her. It was like a drug to her, even more addictive than the best high, and there was only so much her body could take before it gave out. When her knees began to shake, and the world swayed, the sexy actress knew that time had finally come.

She slid down to the ground, yelping when she lost traction and landed somewhat hard on her ass, and spread her legs with the drain between her thighs. She wasted little time in getting back to the action, and curled and flexed her toes while she pumped her pussy and repeatedly drove her fingers into her soaked body.

When this proved less than exciting for the adventurous woman, she lifted a long leg into the air and attacked her pussy from a new angle, closing her eyes and resting her face against the smooth, unblemished flesh while she moaned and whimpered like a true silver screen slut. She was only so strong however, after a long day of running and shooting and acting, and before long her leg began to shake as the exertion wore her down. Angelina let out an annoyed sigh, but lowered her leg before deciding to try something else.

She rolled over onto her hands and knees, then lowered her face to the shower floor while keeping her well-toned ass in the air. She slid a hand underneath her body and found her pussy, two fingers once again penetrating the sticky slit before she resumed her frantic fucking.

She moaned even louder now, barely able to breathe as water splashed over her face, and pounded herself with all her might, reaching back with her other hand to hold her labia apart so she could get even deeper. She hammered her pussy with everything she had, so hard her cheeks rippled, and refused to stop despite the burning in her shoulder and the pain in her forearm. She was pushing herself too hard, having gone almost overnight from a chain-smoking, heroin-shooting slut to an athletic superheroine, but she couldn’t stop now, not with her climax so close she could taste it. And so she dug down as deep as she could go, drawing strength from her own mother’s example, and forced herself to keep going.

Her fingers moved so quickly they were a blur, her jiggling labia the only visual clue that her pussy was being pounded harder than it had ever been pounded before. Angelina had spent half her life immersed in sex, learning to fuck and hook from her own mother, learning to like it up the ass from her dealer, and every trick and tip in her extensive catalogue was employed as she did everything in her power to destroy her own vagina. Not even when her brother had jealously raped her had she experienced such pleasure, and she fell over on her side and groaned like a pathetic shell of a woman as she fucked herself.

“Oh yeah!” she cried, staring straight ahead yet still not seeing the crew as they absorbed her astonishing performance. “Oh yeah! Oh god! Oh god!”

Suddenly she screamed, her eyes going so wide they almost seemed to come alive, and rolled over on her back and went rigid as her climax tore through her body and caused every last muscle to involuntarily clench. This passed quickly however, and after a moment she was freed to buck and writhe beneath the steaming water while her pussy convulsed and hot cum leaked from her body and swirled down the drain.

The set was as quiet as a tomb when Angelina came down and finally remembered where she was. She didn’t move for a long time, continuing to rub her swollen pussy even as she cursed herself for losing control like that. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be her last, but if she kept it up she was definitely going to get a reputation. A reputation that had almost destroyed her mother so many years before.

She sat up, her breasts jiggling, and gave the crew a sheepish smile. “I think that’s a cut,” she said breathlessly.

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