Around the World in 80 Babes
Chapter 25: Cat & Mouse, Part 1
M/F, FF, Anal, Voyeur
Jennifer Lopez, Tara Reid, Alicia Keys
Disclaimer: By reading the following, understand that
you are at risk of the following side-effects; the
reader may incure an increased sense of sexual need,
may suffer an erection in either the penile or the
nipple area. If said reader is opposed to sexual
stories, said reader may find the symptoms insulting.
Readers who are too young may find this story
incomprehensible, since most adults don’t know what
sex is until they reach the legal age for their
Additionally, many readers suffer from delusions about
the celebs mentioned in this story, and should be
advised that this is, indeed, merely fiction. We
recommend you take one TRL story daily for the next
six weeks, and if symptoms continue, try reading
May 25th, 2005
Off the Coast of Miami, Florida, USA
Richard Stall was naked, covered in sweat, and currently had his dick buried deep into Jennifer Lopez’s ass for the second time in a week. Needless to say, it had been a good day.
“I’m so glad you came, Richard,” Jennifer moaned.
“That’s funny,” he said, plowing into her ass. “I thought you were the only one who’s come so far. Twice.”
Jennifer giggled around a moan. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“If you think I would’ve missed a chance to fuck this ass again, you’re crazy.”
“How’d you like a shot at my pussy?” Jennifer asked.
Stall shrugged. “Sure. Roll over.” Stall pulled out, and Jennifer Lopez rolled over onto her back. As he stuffed himself into her hotbox, she wrapped those long, gorgeous legs around his waist, trapping him there.
“Go to town, big boy,” Jennifer smiled. “Make me scream.”
“With all those guests downstairs?” Stall asked, honestly concerned.
“Oh, please, most of the people down there know this whole party’s just an excuse to fuck someone new without Marc finding out.”
“Marc?” Stall asked, suddenly stopping in mid-thrust.
“Hello,” Jennifer said. “I’m married. Marc Anthony and all that. It was all over the news for like, a year.”
“I know, I know,” Stall said, “I just assumed that, well, he wasn’t going to be here.”
“He’s not due to arrive on the island until tomorrow,” Jennifer assured him. “Then he’ll get to be doing what you’re doing now. So unless you want to miss out and force me to go to my husband for sex, get back to what you were doing.”
Stall started thrusting again. He had a feeling, though, that after tonight, he might not want to be seen with Jennifer Lopez again.
* * *
“Yeah, so like, there I was, completely wasted, and this guy comes up to me and says ‘I wanna fuck your boobs!’ Well, I was just a little to drunk, so I shoved a finger into his chest and said to him ‘No, I wanna fuck YOUR boobs.’ Well, we all had a good laugh at that, because, you know, he’s a guy, and all that.”
Marissa Call sighed as she sipped her vodka tonic – heavy on the tonic, very light on the vodka – and continued to marvel at how Tara Reid’s stories all seemed to involve drinking and sex.
The two women were guests at Jennifer Lopez’s house, enjoying a party that seemed, more or less, to be completely without the hostess since Richard Stall had arrived. Not that anyone seemed to have noticed. In fact, most of the guests, with the possible exception of Tara, had seemed to think it normal.
‘If only they knew their hostess was getting her ass fucked right this second,’ Marissa thought.
“Anyway,” Tara went on. “I was in Ibiza the other day, and these two gorgeous Italian guys come up to me, wanting autographs. Well, I could’ve eaten them right up, they were so hot, so I said sure. I asked them where they wanted me to sign, and they turned around and lowered their swimsuits, exposing their rear ends to me! And let me tell you, they were fantastic looking asses. So, I signed their butts, and then, probably because I’d already had a few to drink, I gave them each a handjob right there on the beach. That was freakin’ hot.”
“Are all her stories about drinking and sex?” Michael Burke said, whispering into Marissa’s ear though her ear piece. Burke was out by the limo, most likely watching what Stall was doing to Jennifer Lopez on the portable video screen Lambert had sent down to them the other day.
“Seems so,” Marissa whispered into the tiny microphone disguised in her choker necklace. To be honest, the necklace was the only place to hide anything on her, because the shimmery emerald dress she wore showed just about every spec of cleavage the 19-year-old had, and was cut so high on her thigh that she couldn’t actually wear panties – none of the thongs she had went up that high on her side. Considering she had three cameras, a microphone and an earpiece hidden on her, she considered Lambert’s miniaturization skills second-to-none.
“So, you going to try and score some Tara Reid or not?” Burke asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Marissa moaned. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Well, I’d come join you, babe, but I’m stuck outside with the rest of the hired help.”
“Just watch the screen, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it,” Marissa said, keeping a tiny smile to herself.
“Maybe not,” Burke said, suddenly sounding concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Marissa asked.
“Marc Anthony just stepped out of a limo! And the Boss is still fucking Jennifer Lopez upstairs!”
“Shit,” Marissa swore, almost too loud. She turned away from the small group talking to Tara. “Lambert, you listening?”
“On it,” the computer nerd responded in Marissa’s ear. “You two better stay put. Don’t create a scene. I’ll let the boss know he needs to get moving, ASAP.”
“You sure?” Marissa asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” Lambert said. “You score Tara Reid. We don’t even have half the celebs we need, and it’s almost June. The boss can take care of himself.”
“All right,” Marissa said, turning back towards Tara just in time to hear her say something she’d never thought she’d hear a famous party girl like Tara Reid say.
“No, I’d never sleep with a woman,” Tara was saying to some of the other guests. “I mean, yeah, women are hot and all, but when I’m having sex, I want my tits to be the only ones in bed. I’m not gay, and I’m not the least bit curious.”
Suddenly, Marissa’s goal for the night seemed an awful lot harder to accomplish.
* * *
Tom Lambert’s warning hit Stall’s ear all of three seconds after one of Jennifer’s maids entered the room.
“Jennifer, Marc’s here!” The maid said, rushing into the room, completely ignoring the fact that her employer had her arms and legs wrapped around the naked body of a man who was not her husband.
“Shit!” Jennifer swore.
“Boss, Marc Anthony just pulled up,” Lambert’s voice came into Stall’s ear. “Burke suggests you pull out and get out.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Stall muttered, disentangling himself from Jennifer’s body.
“That warning was not for you, sir,” the maid said, helping Jennifer get off the bed.
“Thanks, Maggie,” Jennifer said. “Richard, you’d better get out of here quick.”
“Fantastic idea,” Stall said. “Where are my clothes?”
“Uh, we kinda got undressed in the hallway, remember?” Jennifer said.
“I hid the clothes in the laundry, ma’am,” Maggie said as she helped Jennifer squeeze back into the fancy dress she’d worn for the evening. Stall noticed that she’d managed to bring THAT in.
“That helps,” Stall muttered. All he had in the room were the white boxer shorts he’d worn under his clothes, and the various camera/items he’d scattered across the room. “What the hell am I supposed to do for clothes?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Maggie said, coldly. “Should I see if Mr. Anthony has anything in his wardrobe that would fit you?”
Stall stared daggers at the maid. He was about to say something nasty in response when there came a knock at the door.
“Jen? Are you in there?”
* * *
“Hey, Lambert, why’d you cut the feed?” Burke asked as the portable screen he’d been watching suddenly shut down.
“You got some particular reason for wanting to see the Boss hiding in the closet?” Lambert asked through the earpiece.
“Guess not. Let me know if he needs any help getting out,” Burke replied. “I’m going to grab some fresh air.”
Burke climbed out of the limo and let the night air cool him down for a second. Say what you will about Richard Stall, but his videos were guaranteed to warm you up. And Jennifer Lopez had always been a favorite of Burke’s – well, her ass, anyway.
“Excuse me?” a voice said from behind him suddenly. Jumping half a foot in the air, Burke spun around-
-and came face-to-face with Alicia Keys.
“Sorry to startle you,” she said, smiling politely at him. “Would you happen to have a bottle of water or something in your limo? I’m horribly parched.”
“O-oh, yeah,” Burke said, trying to calm his nerves. “Just let me get in back,” he said, reaching into the driver’s seat to hit the lock button. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here?”
“Getting some air,” Alicia said. “I kinda had a little too much to drink earlier, and I’m hoping to cool down a little before I do something crazy.”
“Crazy, huh?” Burke said, moving out of the driver’s seat and heading towards the rear door of the limo. “Like what?”
“Oh, nothing special. Maybe dance on a table or something. Maybe make out with some guy I don’t know.”
“I’m a guy you don’t know,” Burke pointed out as he opened the door.
“Alicia,” she said, holding out her hand. Burke smiled as he extended his own hand – freshly covered with Lambert’s aphrodisiac chemical.
“Michael,” he said, shaking her hand. “Would you like to sit down while you drink your water?”
“Your boss won’t mind someone else in his limo?”
“Someone else, maybe. Alicia Keys, never,” Burke said.
“Then I don’t mind if I do.”
* * *
“Boss, you’ve got to get out of there, but the limo’s off limits for the moment,” Lambert told Stall through the earpiece.
“Why?” Stall whispered.
“Because Burke’s got Alicia Keys in there, and from the looks of it, he’ll be into her panties in a minute or two.”
“Tell him good work when he’s done,” Stall whispered. “Any chance Marissa can create a distraction for me?”
“Uh, she’s getting Tara Reid liquored up right now. Normally, I’d say sure, but she seems rather determined to get Tara into bed before the night’s over.”
“Fat lot of good that does me,” Stall muttered.
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait, for the moment,” Stall said. “What else can I do?”
At that very moment, Richard Stall was hidden inside the closet in Jennifer Lopez’ bedroom. Still wearing just his boxers, he stared out the tiny slats in the door and watched as Marc Anthony rather happily greeted his wife with a passionate kiss and a hug.
“If I had known you were throwing a party, I would’ve come faster,” he said, undoing his tie.
“Well, I was lonely, and you weren’t supposed to get here until tomorrow,” Jennifer said, trying her best not to stare at the closet. At least the maid had left.
“Well, give me a moment or two to change, and we can go greet the guests,” Marc said. He kicked off his shoes and headed directly towards the closet. Stall felt his blood turn to ice as Jennifer Lopez’s husband’s hand hit the handle of the closet door, pulling it open-
-And suddenly, the room was filled with noise. Marc spun around and covered his ears as the large, flatscreen TV came alive with loud explosions and police sirens.
Stall knew an opening when he saw one, and leapt for the bottom of the bed. While Marc was yelling at Jennifer in Spanish, Stall managed to slide under the bed just before the TV turned off.
“I don’t know what happened,” Jennifer said. “I must have sat on the remote or something.”
“It’s okay,” Marc said. Suddenly, there was a pause. For another long second, Stall worried that he’d been spotted. “Are your nipples hard?” Marc asked suddenly.
Stall had never been overly impressed with Jennifer Lopez’s acting, but at that very moment, he would’ve paid any sum to make sure she won an oscar after she said what she said next.
“It’s been too long, Marc. Seeing you again makes me want you.”
“Really?” Marc said. Under the bed, Stall saw Jennifer and Marc’s feet come to a rest next to each other.
“What about the guests,” Jennifer asked as her dress fell down to her feet.
“Let them wait,” Marc responded. Suddenly, their feet were gone and the bed squeaked above him. And as Richard Stall lay underneath the bed, Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony started having sex above him.
* * *
“I have never had sex with a woman,” a very tipsy Tara Reid said as Marissa Call helped her into an empty room.
“Now’s a good time to start, then,” Marissa said, kissing Tara on the lips. Tara accepted the kiss warmly, but when Marissa pulled away, she shook her head.
“I’m not gay,” Tara insisted before taking a long swing of champagne. “I’m not.”
“You don’t have to be,” Marissa said, pulling the tiny straps of her dress off her shoulders and suddenly stood naked before Tara Reid.
“You’re really beautiful,” Tara said as Marissa started to kiss her neck. “But I’ve never had sex with a woman before.”
“Tara?” Marissa said, slipping a hand underneath Tara’s skirt. She was surprised to find panties there, but ignored them, rubbing her fingers of Tara’s mound. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes, but I’m not gay.”
“Tonight,” Marissa said, kissing Tara on the lips again quickly. “You are.”
“I am?” Tara asked.
“How drunk are you?” Marissa asked, surprised.
“Drunk enough to be gay?” Tara asked.
“Close enough,” Marissa muttered, pulling Tara’s panties off and kneeling down before the plastered blonde. Soon she had her tongue inside Tara’s snatch, and sure enough, Tara Reid WAS drunk enough to be gay.
* * *
Back in the Stall limo, Alicia Keys sat on top of Michael Burke, bouncing her lithe frame up and down on his cock. Burke had always found Alicia incredibly hot, and now, here he was, getting the chance to bang her. Surprisingly – at least to Burke – Alicia was a bit of a wildcat – demanding to ride Burke instead of letting him be on top. Now, with a full dose of Lambert’s chemicals running through her system, she seemed all but unstoppably sexed up.
Not that Burke was complaining.
“Harder!” Alicia demanded, pushing herself down on Burke’s cock. He didn’t want to remind her that in his position, she was in charge of how fast and how hard things went.
“Pinch my nipples,” she said next. This Burke could comply with. He reached up and started to gently squeeze Alicia’s nipples between his forefingers. When she gasped, he let go. But then her hands were up forcing his onto her breasts. “Don’t stop,” she moaned. “Please don’t stop! Just a little longer.”
Despite the fact that Burke would’ve happily fucked Alicia all night long, he took this as a good sign – he was close to climax himself, and didn’t think he could last that much longer without release.
“That’s it!” Alicia hissed as she started really jumping up and down on him now. “I’m Comming!”
That exclamation was all Burke needed to explode. He shot his load deep into Alicia as the young singer bobbed up and down on his cock, screaming out in relief as her own orgasm assaulted her.
“Water,” she moaned a few moments later.
“Huh?” Burke asked.
She smiled down at him. “I need some water – think I could borrow some?”
* * *
Stall supposed that, sooner or later, every member of the Timekeeper’s Club ended up in this exact situation. After all, the primary hobby of the club’s members was to sleep with beautiful women – the more unattainable, the better. As such, more than one of his fellow club members must have ended up stuck underneath the bed as the woman they’d just been fucking got it on with her husband. And Stall was certain that his fellow members must have had a dozen or so humorous stories about being trapped under a creaking bed.
He just wished that he could remember one right about now.
Worst of all, he had no real support. Apparently, both Burke and Marissa were busy getting some hot celebrity pussy, and Lambert needed most of his computer and camera skills to keep those two’s escapades from escaping the digital recordings Stall needed. In fact, all Lambert had managed to feed for information to Stall so far was that both of his employees were getting lucky.
Stall had no idea how long he lay there, flat on his stomach, the cool carpeting pressed against his bare skin. Thankfully, he’d managed to get off while doing Jennifer earlier, or he’d have serious issues with listening to Marc and Jen having sex directly above him – his boxers kept his privates from coming into direct contact with the floor, but there wasn’t much room to maneuver about should an erection happen.
Finally, the sounds stopped with a gasp above. Apparently, Marc had hit his limit, because he was moaning something in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like something someone might say upon climax.
“Well,” Marc said a moment or two later. “We mustn’t ignore your guests any longer.”
“I suppose not,” Jennifer said. “Why don’t you rush down and see them while I clean up?”
“Sure,” Marc said. Suddenly, Stall could see Marc’s feet on the floor again, and watched as the other man stepped back into his pants. “Where did my shoes go?”
“You have other shoes,” Jennifer said.
“Sure, back in my room. But here? Besides, I think I remember kicking them under the bed.
Stall went rigid at that. As he sat there watching, Marc Anthony got down on his knees and started to list the dust ruffle around the bed. Any second now, he’d spot Stall and everything would go straight to hell –
“They’re over here,” Jennifer said suddenly. The dust cover dropped, and once more Stall was safe.
“Thanks,” Marc said as Jennifer handed him his shoes. Stall watched him put them on, then head out of the room. “Don’t be too long, my love,” Marc said as he closed the door behind him.
Suddenly, Jennifer was next to the bed, staring daggers at Stall. “You have to go,” she hissed.
“I know,” Stall said. “Any idea where I can find my clothes?”
“I’ll send them to you tomorrow,” Jennifer said. “Just get to your limo and get the hell out of here.”
“Right,” Stall said, sliding out from under the bed and getting to his feet.
“Richard?” Jennifer asked as he opened the door.
“You were wonderful,” she said, smiling seductively at him. Stall shook his head and headed out into the hallway, intent on finding the back stairs and slipping out a different exit-
– When he heard Marc Anthony’s voice coming up the stairs!
“I’ll be just a minute, I think I left my watch in Jennifer’s room…” the singer was saying.
Stall had one option and one option only – clad only in his boxers and with the husband of the woman he’d just fucked not three seconds away from seeing him, Stall leapt for the closest door, hauled it open, and ducked inside, closing it quietly behind him.
“Gee, Richard, if I’d known you wanted a piece of Tara that much, I would’ve invited you to join us sooner.”
Stall spun around to find himself staring at a very naked Marissa Call. She lay on the bed, her fingers buried in the crotch of an equally naked Tara Reid.
“I’m not gay,” Tara moaned.
“Of course not, honey,” Marissa said, kissing Tara on the lips gently. “Now do you want me to make you cum again?”
“Yes, please,” Tara moaned happily.
“Drunk?” Stall asked.
“Enough to be gay for the night,” Marissa said.
“Nice work,” Stall said. “Any idea of a way out of here?”
“Balcony?” Marissa suggested, pointing towards the large window door on the far side of the guest room.
“That’ll work,” he muttered. “If Marc Anthony comes in, I was never here.”
“And I’m NOT gay,” Tara said.
“Boss?” Lambert’s voice came through his ear piece. “Burke’s done with the limo now – and he says he’s got an extra set of clothes in there for you.”
“At least something’s gone right today,” Stall said as he opened the door to the balcony. Looking down over the edge, he realized that while it was only one story, it was still a bit of a drop. “I don’t suppose Burke’s got a trampoline or something in the car?” he asked Lambert.
“He can come try and catch you,” Lambert suggested.
“No need. I’ll just hang off the edge first,” he said as he climbed over the more-or-less decorative railing that prevented anyone from just falling off. Slowly, he worked his way so that he was hanging from his hands from the bottom of the balcony. For a long moment, he swung his legs back and forth, hoping he was tall enough to touch the ground. No such luck – he still had a good two or three feet to go.
He took a deep breath, and let go, dropping rather soundlessly to the ground. At first, he managed to land just fine as his feet hit the concrete, but he stood up too fast, and lost his balance. Arms pinwheeling, he fell backwards-
– And landed right in Jennifer Lopez’s pool.
“Gee, Boss, you know we’ve got a pool at back at the house, right?” Michael Burke asked, coming out of the shadows with an arm load of clothes.
“Funny,” Stall muttered as he swam to the ladder. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a towel handy.”
“‘Fraid not,” Burke said. “But we’re parked close. Oh, try not to get the leather seats wet – this limo’s a rental, remember?”
Stall glared at his employee as he climbed out of the pool. “Next time, you fuck the married celeb.”
“Works for me,” Burke said, smiling as he handed Stall the change of clothes.