Celebs in story: Dua Lipa, Harry Styles, Taylor Swift
Story codes: MF, MM, MMF, oral, public, voyeur, drug use, analingus
Story summary: After getting the ball rolling on the production company Jack Shaw has “one (several) for him”
The bumping is bass is loud enough my bones are vibrating. Even back stage in the hallway lined with dressing rooms, I can feel the thumping of Dua Lipa’s “Levitating,” in my soul. I’ve always had a soft spot for pop music, felt it got a bad rap because it was the easy thing to do, to hate the popular thing.
Waiting amongst the flurry of runners and tv people at the Grammy’s in Los Angeles isn’t exactly where I expected to be tonight, but closing a major actress to head up a multi-film project gets your name out there. Seeing Jack Shaw, Limitless Pictures, on an ID badge is definitely weird for someone who’s never made a movie before but it’s got me in the thick of the action.
Noticing a satellite bar at right before the steps to the stage, I make a concerted effort to avoid the scurrying production assistants by sticking to the wall and make progress down the gold painted hallway. At the bar, I drop a courtesy $20 before ordering and say
“Two double vodka waters,”
To which the tuxedo adorned bartender smirks and rolls his eyes as if to tell me “okay guy, good luck with all of that,” knowing that my night is absolutely go off the rails. That’s the weird part of being on the proximity of fame, everyone just assumes the average looking white guy in dress clothes is gonna try and squeeze every last bit of juice out of this life before it catches up or passes you by.
It’s been three weeks since Anne Hathaway and I set the new standards for American Pediatry in France and all people know about that night is that a video of her dancing in the club ten minutes before my cold approach went viral. Thankfully, with a bit of tact and some well tipped hotel employees, my executive vice president of talent morale is very much still in a happy marriage. But, she has worn stockings both times I’ve seen her since just to fuck with me. Win some lose some I guess.
Anyway, tonight is about me and seeing what kind of trouble I can find. The after parties for the Grammy’s are always better than the other award shows because the stars and crowd tend to skew younger. After all, pop music is a young person’s game. After polishing off the first vodka water, the brain rattling bass finally subsides and I can once again hear myself think. The crowd roars with cheers and a sultry “Thank you so much,” Echos through the PA system. Those Eastern-European women man, I think to myself during the first sip of the second Vodka water. With the house band back playing a mellow instrumental, I hear the clicking of heels down the metal steps up to the stage and I can’t help but look in that direction.
I’m met with the sight of one of the tightest waists I’ve ever seen. Fighting every urge to glance down her stockings to the heels that alerted me of her presence, I instead go back to the only advice my father ever gave me about women. By starring at her nose, I’m giving the illusion of serious eye contact and offer a friendly but confident smile before saying…
“Excellent performance, that song still plays now even though Da Baby’s an asshole, can I get you a drink? My friend here makes a good vodka water.”
She shakes her head no before replying
“I’ve gotta go shower, change and get my make-up reapplied, that’s a nice offer but I’ll have to pass,”
in an honestly sweet tone that said she actually considered my advance. Looking back towards the bartender, I point at the now second empty glass for a third and pull another $20. Sliding it across the black bar mat, I say
“Thanks man, have a good rest of your night, hope the rich assholes tip like guys who’ve bartended before,”
Turning back around and taking a step while sipping from the glass, I almost bump into Dua’s face.
“Oh oh oh oh oh sorry sorry sorry, I wasn’t looking, I didn’t expect anyone to be directly underfoot,”
I blurt out at 100 miles per hour in a genuine panic that I almost knocked this woman over. In that moment of panic, the whiff from encroaching her personal space hit me like a truck. In that moment it felt as if Levitating was blaring again because I couldn’t hear a thing around me. Is this what combat sounds like? Am I deaf now? I ponder before blinking rapidly several time and the room coming back into focus…
“No no, don’t be, I was a little up in your space, I’m sorry,” Dua says back, reaching her perfectly manicured hand out to grab my forearm and re-assure me. “You can come back with me and wait outside my dressing room if you want, I have an empty seat next to me out on the floor, people’ll think you’re a seat filler, but we can talk”
Every word out of her mouth is a fucking dream. That accent, that voice, I float down the hall way after nodding at her offer, walking single file to avoid the never ending stream of people, I can’t help but steal a glance at her shapely bottom in the tightest pink shorts imaginable. I take a sharp deep breath at the sight and bite on the knuckle of my right index finger to try and compose myself.
With a large silver metallic box outside the dressing room door, Dua points and says “I’ll be as quick as I can, wait for me here and don’t get distracted, there are other pretty women around,” in a playful, baiting tone.
Sitting in my now trademark blue dress pants, my legs are dangling about five inches off of the floor and I hear the next award get presented, Record of the year. Thinking about the nominees from the itinerary my assistant handed me for the car ride here, I take a beat and say outloud to myself under my breath “Styles, for sure.”
The blood curtling shrieks drown out the presenter but affirm my hunch. Hearing his okay but over-played “Watermelon Sugar,” I smile to myself and think about the ex-girlfriend in college who had a life-sized cutout of his likeness in her apartment.
Hearing a commotion down the hallway, I figure Harry is making his way down to one of the other talent dressing rooms to get ready to perform. I know he’s on the itinerary for later in the show, one of the traps TV producers use to keep people watching the award show the entire time through all of the gaudy priced ads is to put the marquee talent on last.
Sporting a tight black suit with no undershirt and a green feather boa, I extend a fist out to bump which he taps back. The cold metallic feeling of his numerous rings makes for a painful experience but I suck it up. I offer out a hearty…
“Congrats Harry, great album, can’t wait to see what’s next,”
Clearly amused by my comment as a man, he stops dead in his tracks to call bullshit on my praise. “Actually mate? Can’t picture a money guy like you putting his headphones in or putting one of my records on,”
Getting to my feet, and about an inch taller than him, we’re a few inches away from each other and I retort
“Sad to admit an ex of mine got me in on the ground floor when you were still with the band. You’ve found a nice spot for yourself” I honestly admit with an audible chuckle. Harry meets my chuckle with a soft smile and before he could reply, I carry on “But, you should stick with the rock sound, it suits your voice better,”
A touch bit insulted but caught by my candor he extends a hand to shake and says “You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that, what are you doing tonight? Stalking her?” He teased, pointing at the door with Dua Lipa scribbled on masking tape center of the door.
“She asked if I wanted to sit with her out on the floor after she was done,” I proudly boast to a cocksman of the highest order in his own right. Harry’s trademark grin lights up and tantalizingly offers “I promise more fun,” before playfully running the top side of his left index finger under his nose.
I generally stay away from cocaine, it reminds me of college and having to sell my xbox to pay my fraternity dues. But when the hottest guy on the planet offers to take you skiing, you gotta find out where the night is gonna go. I bop my head out, using my chin to non-verbally say “let’s go.”
Three doors down I’m invited into the full stocked dressing room and notice only water on the bar cart. Noticing my confusion Harry says “When I’m performing I don’t drink, messes with my voice, I wait till after. But more importantly, clear a spot,”
Moving the TV makeup someone someone had meticulously laid out down to the edge of the counter, Harry produces a hefty bag of coke from his blazer pocket and plops it down on the table with a thud. “Let’s get to it, date goes first,” he jokingly says, laying at least a month of rent for my first apartment in Midtown manhattan on the black wooden finish.
Pulling my beatup wallet out, I retrieve my black card and a $100 bill. Lining up three lines for myself, I look over at Harry who’s sitting on the counter, inches away from the bag with a devilish grin and a bottle of water in his hand.
I roll up the bill and lean over to take the first line. Midway down, a series of knocks at the door sends the second two lines and excess coke airborne as I panic react. Harry laughs at my obvious fear and says “You have got to lighten up,” before cupping a hand to his mouth and yelling “it’s open, come in,”
To which I jerk my head at him in a panic with my eyes ready to pop out of my head in panic. That same devilish grin etched on his face. Those bloodshot and buggy eyes fixated on the door lose vision for a second as it swings open revealing the now showered and changed Dua Lipa sporting a tight reflective bodysuit.
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Realizing Dua is smiling and not mad, I let out an exhale of relief and wipe the actual perspiration that manifested on my forehead.
“Partying without me, some date you are Jack,” she teases, as she closes the door and closes the distance between the three of us. “Well you two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Harry says, heading off to the door, bottle of water in hand.
“So uh…set up?”
I ask Dua trying to understand what exactly was going on.
“Well no, Harry was gonna fuck you and probably still wants to, I haven’t decided yet, help me make up my mind.”
Dua explains with a grin, sitting on the couch across from the counter where I’m leaning next to a felony distribution amount of cocaine. I pickup the bag from the counter, and make a bee line for the couch, instead of making the obvious play. I tell Dua “lean back, and don’t squrim,”
The Albanian songstress follows my instructions and offers a much more compelling staging area for my ski trip. Raising the bag just a bit, I pour a bit more than a key bump on Dua’s perky tits and point up with my left hand, “May I?” I ask.
With a lip bite, Dua nods and says “please, this is an interesting pitch.”
With the $100 still rolled, I lean over and take the rip which sends my sinuses reeling. Fucking HELL that stings after a while. As I compose myself, I raise the bag, offering a hit to Dua which she nods. Managing to only spill a small amount, I pour a bump sized amount onto the back of my hand and offer it to the leggy brunette. Leaning down, she takes the rip clean from the dirty Benjamin and mutters out a “Fuck,” after the rip.
Putting the bag down on the coffee table and singularly focused on fucking Dua Lipa senseless, I sit next to her on the couch to her right. Leaning over, I press my dry lips to her sweaty neck and am met with the best tasting salt possible. Greedily fumbling my right hand down her chest before coming to rest on her hip, I sigh at the taste and say “How the hell do you get this thing off?” with a laugh before resuming the long, sloppy kisses on her neck. Bending forward, Dua reaches behind her back and unclasps a button and slides each strap of the dress down, exposing her bare chest. The solid B cups exposed to the air, I work my way down, lingering on her collar and before moving on, take a playful bite on the protruding bone. When her nipple met my mouth, I heard the moan forced from her chest at the warmth of my mouth.
Dua reaches her arm up, and runs her fingers through my hair, lingering at the base of my neck for a second. The touch of her nails is delicate and affectionate. Feeling emboldened by the moment, I angle myself better, straining my neck between her breasts and making a show of alternating kissing along them back and forth. Realizing that she was naked aside from a pink thong that matched the dress, I got to my feet and undid my brown leather belt before dropping my pants. My olive toned briefs hiding my erection as well as OJ’s gloves, I went for it fully, peeling them off before sitting next to her, my bare ass on the black couch.
Recognizing the invitation Dua gets on her knees along the couch and extends her tongue out eagerly. The moment it meets my tip, I see stars and moan. “Awww you’re cute,” she honestly says before licking down the length of my shaft before stopping at the base, right before my balls. On the way back up, she kisses, agonizingly slowly up the shaft for what feels like a lifetime. At this point, I’m leaking like a faucet and I haven’t even gotten inside one of her holes yet. With Dua’s ass sticking up from the couch to my right, I reach back and feel just how firm it is. She definitely works out, this thing is tight as I imagined it walking behind her.
When the warmth of her mouth engulfs my length, my body tenses up and I melt into the couch. The sensation of spit running down my cock, onto my balls and dripping ontho the couch is making an audible
TAP TAP TAP sound while Dua gulps away at my member. She’s getting almost the entire six inches down her throat after a few bobs of her head. Furiously jerking from the base with her right hand while throating me, I know I’m not long for his blowjob. Panicking, I say “hey hey hey, slow down, let me take care of you,” pointing towards my face, I lay back on the couch, extending the surface area of my chest, giving her room to lay across. Orienting herself along my torso, I’m met with perfectly bald pussy lips and a biteable bubble butt.
Realizing I needed a breather, Dua just kisses around my crotch, teasing my cock and waiting for my oral exploration. Not wanting to be rude, I plunge face first into her minge with my tongue extended dying for a taste. Greedily, mid lick, I imagine how much better it would’ve tasted all sweaty right after she got off stage….next time, I think to myself. Devouring her lips, the world around us might as well have stopped. Shaking my head no, so my five o’clock shadow would catch her folds for extra stimulation, she squeals out in bliss at the friction. “Why is it that the nerdy guys all know how to do that so well?” Dua sarcastically asks from between my legs.
Taking a deep breath in a moment of reprieve “Because we know we can’t fuck as long as you want and have to make it up to you,” I earnestly reply before resuming my taste test. Feeling adventurous I slide my tongue up further from her pussy lips up between her perfect pale white cheeks.
Running my tongue along her asshole, I’m met with Dua’s body tensing up, a question and a dare:
“Fuck aren’t you a nasty boy?”
“go ahead, do it you ass slut”
With the invitation, I plunge past her rim and up her asshole. Pulling on Dua’s hips to get my face in deeper, I’m making a point of tongue fucking her ass, I’m on pure adrenaline. I don’t feel anything but the pre-cum leaking from my tip and the coke screaming through my head. As I take a moment to come up for air, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and see Harry, dripping in sweat, shirtless butterfly tattoo beckoning and about to unbuckle his belt with my invitation.
“Dua, are you okay with this? I know I am.”
I ask for Harry, eager for him to join the party.
From between my legs, Dua reaches firmly to grasp my length and looks up at Harry. “Come get comfortable, I know there’s a lot to pick from.”
My tongue buried in Dua’s Albanian ass, I feel a second breath around my member and feel a warm tongue on my balls. The cold, metallic rings gripping on my shaft, I realize its Harry and Dua tandom working my shaft. With the oral tag team working between my legs, my eyes are straining to keep the ceiling of the room in focus. My hands long since ceded from Dua’s ass, I’m digging into the couch, trying to hold onto the mortal coil. I last maybe fifteen seconds before exploding into Dua’s mouth. Upon the release, I my body goes limp from exhaustion and I’m laying sideways on the couch. With the leggy Albanian tied up around my limbs, I start chuckling to myself as I look to my left and see Harry with a grin on his face.
“Can you blame me?”
Harry asked before reaching out and offering Dua a hand to re-orient herself on the couch next to me. Sitting up and having all five senses functioning for the first time in at least 20 minutes, it hits me just how thirsty I am. Getting to my feet, I walk over to the fridge stocked with water and rip the cap off a bottle of Poland Spring like a bear trying to open a can.
Swigging water, I make eye contact with Harry who says “The bar cart should be outside by now, they know better than to knock,” before turning to gently kiss Dua on the mouth.
Walking to the door, I crack it just enough to peek down the way and check the coast was clear. Shirtless, I stick my right arm out and pull the cart into the room by it’s silver plated handle. Pouring a whiskey on the rocks, I’m treated to the show of Dua and Harry swapping spit and her manicured nails running down his defined chest. Taking a sip of the Irish whiskey, I see Dua extend her right pointer finger and gesture in a “come hither,” motion. Walking to her reach, I’m met with the French tip in the square center of my chest. She breaks her kiss to say, “sit on the floor, I need to get you ready.”
Sitting on the floor, I’m met by the gift of Dua’s gorgeous heeled feet.
The leggy singer resumes her makeout session and I’m gifted her toes to reinspire me for round two. Unbuckling the straps, I have access to her toes. But, before my real prize, I can’t help but take a long drag of her heels. The sweaty twang stirs my length back to life before ever feeling her feet. Guiding her feet down to my length, I’m quickly fucking her stockings and moaning at the blissful friction.
With my eyes closed and my hips greedily thrusting into Dua’s arches, I’m writhing in pleasure. I feel a tap on my shoulder to bring me back into reality and I realize it’s Harry who says “She promised me her ass and I know you understand why I’m gonna be holding her to it, so you need to sit on the couch first.” Getting to my feet, I feel a playful squeeze of my ass and realize it was Harry. Never having more than a threesome with a guy before tonight this was definitely a new experience, but I was definitely interested. Sitting on the black leather couch, my bare ass sticks to the cushion almost immediately.
Guiding Dua onto my length, we moan in unison as my head penetrates her sopping wet folds. Reaching her hands into my shoulder for leverage, she takes my 6 inches with a brief shimmy down the length and I’m almost instantly balls deep. In my ear, Dua whispers “start fucking so my ass loosens up babe.” Not needing to be told twice I grab the Albanian songstress by the hips and rhythmically thrust upward at a steady pace. After about a dozen steady thrusts, I hear a shrieking cry of “ohhhh fuck,” with an Albanian twinge vibrate back off of the walls.
The corresponding groan of Harry tells me that we’re currently splitting the brunette at the seams. Feeling her warm breath with a twinge of tequila against my neck, she’s mostly just grinding instead of riding but I’m not one to complain. Feeling her pussy tense up with each of Harry’s thrusts, her cunt is milking me to the point my vision is blurred and I feel faint. Trying to hold onto this reality for as long as possible I’m thinking about the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen, my second grade math teacher. God Ms.Jones was appalling to look at every day, even as a child I knew that wasn’t for me.
But a bite on my neck snaps be back into the room where I’m balls deep inside of one Grammy award winner while another fucks her tight little ass. In a sultry whisper, Dua moans into my ear, “come on big boy, fill me up, I know you want to.” The magic words force it out of me, Ms. Jones be DAMNED. I bellow out a guttural moan and melt into the couch, Dua still on my lap grinding away, my hot cum leaking out of her down my shaft onto my balls and the poor black leather. The hyper-sensitivity of my tip after a second orgasm has me writhing while Dua grinds her hips, cum continuing to leak out.
My nut leaking out doesn’t deter Harry though, he’s still fucking away at Dua’s ass. I hear his grunts and when my vision comes back into focus, I’m looking up at him over the brunette’s shoulder and can’t help but smile back in amazement. Dude is pretty to look at.
CRASHInstinctively the sudden sound from behind me sends me into a panic, Dua climbs out from between Harry and I and I’m absolutely floored at who’s over my shoulder.
A shattered bottled of champagne and Taylor Fucking Swift with a hand down her skirt.
Topic: Chapter Two: One for Me (Featuring Dua Lipa, Harry Styles and Taylor Swift) (Read 2516 times)