Sara Jean Underwood and the soldier

Sara Jean Underwood and the soldier

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Sara Jean Underwood, Miss July 2006 and Playboy Playmate of the Year 2005, entertains a soldier shipping off to war.


Sara Jean Underwood, Miss July 2006 and Playboy Playmate of the Year 2005, entertains a soldier shipping off to war.


Submitted: April 18, 2013

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 18, 2013



Sara Jean Underwood nervously walked up the stairs of the apartment building, checking the crumbled paper one more time. Apartment 2B.

Earlier in the day she was in the video production office at the Playboy Mansion. She had just finished shooting a big scene with a lot of extras and an elaborate set.  This was going to be an expensive video and she wanted everything to go right. “Hi Mary,” she said to the girl at the desk.  “Frank said I could borrow the storyboards over night.”

“Sure Sara, he called ahead. I have them right here.” Mary passed a large portfolio to the playmate.

“Wow, it’s big,” she chuckled nervously. “Who knew?” She tucked the portfolio under her arm but remained standing at the desk.

Mary looked up at her.  “Is there something else Sara?”

“Umm, yeah, I wonder if you could help me out? Tomorrow we’re shooting, you know, the love scene?” She rolled her eyes in embarrassment. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could give me the number for the guy? Um, the guy in the shoot?”

Mary sat silent for a moment tapping a pen on her desk. “I’m sorry Sara but we have a strict policy about personal information. It’s to protect the playmates more than anything else.  You know that.” The phone rang and Mary held up one finger. “Wait a sec…Hello PEI Productions.  Oh Hi…Yeah…Then he must be in art…”

As Mary spoke into the phone Sara could see the production files were right there on her desk. She must have pulled them out of the portfolio. Oh poop, she thought to herself.

Mary hung up the phone and stood.  “I’m sorry Sara but I really can’t help you. Don’t worry everything will go fine tomorrow.” She smiled reassuringly and walked out a door behind the desk.

Sara Jean couldn’t believe what she did next; it was completely out of character. She flipped the file around and paged through it until she found the personnel records.  Darn, she didn’t have a pen. She picked up Mary’s. Paper! She ripped the end of the page she was looking at after jotting the number down. She just had time to reposition the file the way it was when Mary came through the door again. She straightened up and jammed the paper into a crumpled ball in her pocket.

“Sara? Can I help you with anything else?” She was looking at the playmate suspiciously.

“Um, I guess I was hoping you might change your mind? No, oh darn, well I gotta go. See you tomorrow.” Sara giggled nervously as she backed out of the office, giving Mary a cute little wave.

She popped back in seconds later. “Forgot the portfolio…Gosh, well…Bye!” She waved again and was gone.

Sara couldn’t wait and pulled out her cellphone as soon as she got back the residential part of the Mansion.


“Hi. Hold on a second; I’m out of breath...OK, Sorry. Hi.”

“Um, this is Sara Jean Underwood? Is this Paul Prising?”

“Yeah, right.  Hi! I’m gonna be in your video tomorrow.”

“I know. That’s why I called. Do you think we could, you know, get together and talk about this.  I mean, gosh, I don’t even no what you look like and tomorrow we’re supposed to kiss…and stuff. In front of everybody.”

“Yeah, sure. Right. Let’s see, I’m in the middle of a jog.  I only picked up ‘cause I thought it was my C.O. Let’s see. There’s a coffee shop on…no wait, that closed down.  Look, can you come up to my place? In about an hour? I’m in the middle of packing and short on time.”

He gave Sara his address and she had to repeat it over and over to herself as she scrambled to her room in search of a pen.  She opened draw after draw, frantically reciting the address while failing to locate a pen. Finally she found a golf pencil among some socks and scrawled the address on the scrap of paper.  Relieved she plopped backwards on to the bed, staring at the ceiling and blowing stray locks of hair out of her eyes. “Jeez Louise,” she said to the empty room.

An hour later she was standing in front of the door marked 2B but there was no bell.  She knocked tentatively. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer.  She looked up and down the empty corridor. Checked the number on the paper. She knocked again loudly, banging with her tiny fist. No answer.

With a dejected shrug she turned away and headed for the door. Suddenly the door swung open and a well built young man with a shaved head called out her name.

“Sara, Hi, I was in the shower. Lost track of time. Come on in.”

Sara lugged the portfolio back relieved. She giggled when she noticed he was only wearing a towel.

“We better not shake hands or I’ll get the full Monty.”

It was Paul’s turn to be embarrassed. “Look find a place to sit. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar.

“I’m glad you called,” he called out through the door.

Sara looked around the small room scanning for a seat. Boxes and papers and books were everywhere. “Wow, you sure are packing.”

“Yeah, everything goes into storage while I’m deployed.”

There was no chair without a pile of books on it. The couch was covered with dry cleaning on hangers and in plastic bags. She tested one of the packed boxes and sat on that, resting the portfolio in her lap.

“So where are you moving to?”

“Iraq.” He stepped out of the bedroom pulling a sweater over his head. “My unit goes next Tuesday but I have to get this stuff in storage by Friday.”

“Wow. Gee. I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t worry about it. No big deal, you know.  I was working on my Ph.D and got suck so when my unit got called I decided to go. Change my head around, you know?”

“Yeah, sure…Um….wow! Golly. I mean be careful and stuff.”

Paul gestured at the portfolio; he wanted to change the subject. “Whatcha you got there?”

“Oh, yeah, this is why I called and stuff?” Her light tingling voice got more animated as she unzipped the portfolio and spread out several large storyboards; they were covered with what looked like comic book panels. “This is the plan for the shoot.” She leaned them against some boxes.

Paul bent down and squinted. “Let me get my glasses.” This turned out to be a massive hunt in the clutter.

Sara Jean sat patiently, her knees pressed together and her hands folded in her lap. “So how did you get into working for Playboy?” she asked.

“It’s just a part time thing.  Somebody spotted me at a club.  I’ve only done some modeling for a catalog. It’s kind of funny Playboy looking for male models, right?  Anyway, this video shoot came up suddenly so I decided to go out with a bang.”

He immediately realized his mistake and both of them blushed. “I mean…er…it’d be cool to boast to the guys I was in a…No, I mean, what the heck, it’ll be interesting and I might learn something.”

The room remained silent as he continued the glasses hunt.

“Do you have any music?” Sara asked.

“Music, sure, just let me find those damn glasses. Wait! The bathroom!”

He rushed away and Sara looked around the room. She picked up a book from the pile next to her, The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens; she opened the book  but before could read anything he came back wearing the glasses triumphantly like a crown and carrying a small boom box. “Sinatra OK?”

“Sure.”  She was thinking maybe Garth or Shania.

He hit the button and out poured a wave of sad, plaintive violins and a voice smooth as butter but thick with melancholy.  He held up the case. “’In the Wee Small Hours.’  It’s all I can listen to lately.

“It’s nice.”

“So what do you have there?”

“OK, well what it is is a big production number set back in the day, you know?” Her voice was animated again as she pointed to the different panels. “It’s World War II, and there’s these clubs? The Stage Door Canteen? Movie stars and singers used to entertain the soldiers and sailors before they went off to war.” She gulped and paused, thinking that she had raised a painful subject.

“Yeah, I heard about that,” he said smiling. He bent down to get a better look at the sketches.

“It was real cool.” She went on. “The stars sang and told jokes and stuff and they even waited tables.  And it was all free for the troops.” His head was close to hers and Sara couldn’t help but take in his well-scrubbed scent.

“So anyway, I’m a singer and all but I’m not really singing thank God; they have this song playing over the whole thing. And I sort of do this strip tease. Nothing raunchy; it’s sort of cute actually. I don’t even take off all my clothes and the costume is really great, like Rita Hayworth. Anyway we filmed that part already.” He was following the panels and as he bent lower Sara noticed he had a nice ass.

“Anyway, there’s this other part here, where I’m in this other costume, it’s a lot sexier, like that old time lingerie? Well, I’m in front of a curtain and all these hands, like a wall hands actually. They’re reaching out to touch me. And slowly my clothes disappear.” She paused for a second. “I don’t know how I’m going to get the nerve to do that.”

He smiled up at her. “You’ll do fine.” He gestured to the panels. “This looks like a big movie.”

“Yeah, well, then there’s our part.” She lowered her voice as if she were telling a secret. “While all this is going on, every once in a while there’s a shot of me under a spot light, completely nude and I’m sort of swaying and waving my arms to the music? That part’s OK.”

She stopped and held her breath for a second, gathering up the courage to go on. “Then you come in, see?” She pointed to a panel. “And I’m supposed to like dance around you?” Her voice dropped to an even lower whisper. “And all over you.”

She stopped and let him take this in.  Sensing her embarrassment he studiously kept his eyes on the storyboard, but he couldn’t help think about her centerfold spread and her slim, toned, and sexy body. This was a hell of job but somebody had to do it.

“Then!” Sara went on, “I sort of undress you? You’re like in this soldier’s uniform. I think it’s going to take a long time with the buttons and all. Then, when you’re…, you know …naked? We kind of make out; there’s a bunch of shots of your hands on me, touching…” She let the thought hang in the air.

They were both quiet, letting the music take over. Sinatra seemed to know every sad moment of their lives and seemed to understand. Sara Jean thought her heart was going to break.

Finally, Paul stood up; the music had stirred him too. “Thanks for showing this to me Sara; it’s going to be a great video.”

“No wait! No.” Sara was suddenly flustered. “Wait. Don’t you see? The problem is…Well, tomorrow I’m going to get naked in front of you and the crew. That’s OK…I’ve done that. Well, not in front of you. Not naked. Jeez Louise.  What I’m trying to say is we’re supposed to make out… and stuff…And until a couple of hours ago I didn’t even know your name.”

“Sara, don’t worry; you’re going to be fine.  Actually, I sort of nervous too.”

“That’s right!” she squealed, her face lighting up. But just as quickly she put her hands across her chest and dropped her head down, looking up at him through her long blonde hair. “So I was hoping that we could…you know…practice?”

Paul looked at her; he was stunned and all sorts of possible erotic scenarios ran through his head. Ridiculous, he thought, all she wants to do is be professional. “Sure,” he nodded, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“Well, one thing is the buttons, you know?  I mean the costume has like a million of them. And I know I’m gonna giggle or something. So if you had a button down shirt, I could sort of get used to it with you.”

“Sure, sure. Wait here; I’ll be right back.” He rushed into the bedroom and pulled off his sweater. But the only thing not packed up was his uniform. What the heck, he thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Sara looked at the storyboard, then up at the bedroom door where he had disappeared. She took a deep breath, both relieved and nervous. What the heck, she thought, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Paul stood looking out his window as he buttoned up the uniform shirt. He thought about how different things would be next time he put this particular shirt on. He heard Sara’s soft voice behind him. “Paul,” she said gently.

He turned around and staggered back as if he had opened a door to a blazing fire.

Sara stood there completely nude, her arms wrapped around her chest. She looked at him with slightly parted lips and questioning eyes.


“I wanted to do this now, so it wouldn’t be embarrassing tomorrow. You don’t mind?”

Paul couldn’t take his eyes off the luscious glow of her flawless skin; one leg was slight crossed in front of the other and her hair streamed down in shimmering lines around her face and shoulders. Each curve of her body promised nirvana. And she still had that moist look in her eyes and her mouth. The sensuous music wrapped around her body. She was an angel. A goddess.

He couldn’t answer for a long time. Finally, “No, I don’t mind.”

Another long pause as they watched each other.

“In the video, you come towards me into the spot light.”

He nodded and walked towards her slowly. Each step took him closer to her sweet scent and warmth.

He stood a few inches in front of her and found it hard to keep his arms at his sides.

“So in the script, first we kiss.” She smiled shyly. “Well, here goes.”

Sara Jean looked up to Paul; she'd been dreading this moment for a long time, fearing the sketched outline of the man in the storyboards but now he was real and he stood before her. His lips came closer to hers. They were the real lips that would touch hers. Now as the distance that separated them was pushed away she had no more thoughts except one; the need to please him.

Their lips touched and she breathed in the scent of his cologne, his breath and his very being. Her heart skidded to a halt as the soft brush of his mouth against hers forced her knees to grow weak. Sara Jean closed her eyes and her fingers slid up to grip his arms as she melted into him. She felt his tongue slip out and when it touched her lips, she gasped from the surprise, but she opened her mouth willingly.

She felt the spark of heat rush through her and her face flamed hot from the emotions that ran over her. Unsure of what to do, but loving the sensations that were quietly surfacing she tilted her head and timidly touched his tongue with hers. She was lost then as his fingers moved into her head and coaxed her to deepen the kiss and when she did, she was lost.

Neither wanted to break the kiss; Sinatra sang of loneliness and longing and the kiss was their response. Sara squirmed over him standing on tiptoe. The kiss went on. And on. Sara felt urges and was scared of them. She put her palms in his chest and gently pushed away.

“Umm, yeah, that’s good,” she stuttered to hide the storm of emotions inside. “We’ll do it just like that tomorrow. So next, I sort of undo your buttons…and undress you, OK?”

She didn’t wait for a response; her slender arms reached up and her graceful fingers danced lightly, hesitating over the first button. Her eyes struggled not to look up at him.  She finally touched the button and slowly pushed it free.

Her fingers traced a line down to the next button; slowly it came undone.

When she came to the next one she finally looked up at him and with an embarrassed smile.  “This isn’t so bad?”

“No it’s not.”

She stepped closer to him and finished her sweet task. She had to stretch on her toes to push the shirt off his shoulders. It slid off his arms and hit the floor. Her fingers brushed lightly over the white cotton t-shirt, gliding over his chest and belly and stopping at his belt. She gripped the shirt in tiny fists and tugged it out of the pants.

“This too,” she whispered, lifting the shirt over his chest. He had to help her pull it over his head and arms. She tossed it behind her back and crossed her arms again, avoiding any touch of his bare skin.

“Now in the storyboards we kiss again.”

“We better then.”

He took her in his arms and bent her back. She squeezed her arms over her chest but stretched her face up to meet his. This kiss was fire pouring in and out of each other. Sara Jean couldn’t help unfolding her arms and wrapping them around his neck. Both of them groaned when her nipples touched his bare skin.

She squirmed and writhed, delighted by the kiss but broke away finally, panting and hanging back over his arms. She put her hands on his elbows and pushed away from him.

“OK, wow, that’ll be good.” She looked at him with a serious expression on her face. “The pants, it says the pants next,” she gushed out urgently.

She dropped to her knees.  “I’m supposed to do it like this. I kneel down…well I did that already…and I grab your butt and pull you towards me.” She followed her words, doing the actions she described. “Then I press my cheek on you.”

He groaned as her warm cheek touched the obvious bulge in his pants. She squeezed his ass tighter and held the position for a long moment, moaning softly.”

“Now I take off your belt. Then I open the zipper. I pull your pants down.” Her nails scratched his legs as her hands tugged the pants down. Barefoot, he stepped out of them easily.

“Um, I guess you’ll have shoes on tomorrow.” She said, suddenly practical for a second.

Her hands rubbed up and down over the muscles of his legs. They were looking at each other now.

“Then it’s like this.” She stood up and stepped behind him, giving him a hug and jamming her stiff nipples into his back. “I do this next.” Her palms were flat on his belly and her fingers nudged under the elastic of his shorts. She dipped her hands in, lightly brushing over the curls of his cock before pulling away as if she’d touched a stove.

“I take your shorts off next.” She hooked her thumbs into the sides of the elastic and dipping slowly to the floor she peeled them off his body. Her hands caressed his legs and she moved in an excruciating slow pace. He staggered slightly as he stepped out of them. Sara, holding his hips gave each butt cheek a warm kiss.

She caressed his body with her breasts as she stood up, then Sara delicately sidled around him, pressing her back against him as she moved to the front. She pulled his arms around her waist, quivering slightly as his hands touched her skin. She rested her hands over his. “Now you sort of rub me all over,” she whispered, leaning back against him. She could feel his arousal and it excited her.

His hands moved slowly, his palms flat on her warm skin. First he made small circles over her stomach, her tiny  hands riding on top of his. He traced the curves of her waist and followed them up until he moved over her chest. First he lightly brushed under her breasts, then circled around each firm perfect cone. His hands slid under her chin, caressing her throat, her face; she gave a sharp bite as they passed her mouth, then she sucked his fingers.

His hands dropped down and cupped her breasts; hers reached around to hold his neck as she raised herself on her toes, jutting out her chest. She groaned as he fondled her, twirling her nipples, working them under his firm thumbs. She writhed against him and groaned.

He continued to explore, gliding down her belly but when he brushed over her sex, she pulled his arm away.

Over and over he glided over her body. Sara Jean’s trembling increased as her moans became louder. His touch was drawing out yearnings she never knew were there. Sinatra sang to her softly warning her not to let her heart be broken.

She couldn’t take it any more. “Paul, did you pack your sheets yet?”

With a heroic sweep of his arms he swung her up and pressed her against his chest. She snuggled against him, cradled in his arms as he carried her to the bedroom.

The next day, the shoot went perfectly; they nailed it on the first take.


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