Celebs Meet CSSA #14 – Rose McGowan

[Ed. Note – Several months after hooking up with Rachael Leigh Cook, author TRL suddenly finds Rose McGowan on his doorstep, looking for a story. The following is what happens This continues the “celebs find CSSA” storyline, as this is part 7 in the series. Enjoy!]

Note: The following story is a complete work of fiction. Anything that
happens in it should be taken with a grain of salt. It’s done in an
honorary fashion, meant to compliment the people portrayed within. No
offense was meant. Do not read this story if you are under 18 years of age,
or are opposed to sex between consenting adults. If you are under 18,
you
shouldn’t be here anyway. If you’re opposed to sex, you’re going to have an
awfully hard time procreating in the future. This story is not meant to
reflect honestly on anyone who appears in it. Rose McGowan, and anyone else
mentioned in this story DO NOT behave like this in person ­ but it would be
totally cool if they did! Enjoy!

Celebs Meet CSSA: Rose McGowan By: TRL

You know, some things you never expect to happen.

“Eww, what the fuck kind of music do you listen to, anyway?”

Things out of the blue, from far left field, and over the horizon.

“Don’t tell me you actually LIKE country music!”

And yet, every once in a while, those things happen. They catch you by
such surprise that you can only assume that it’s a one time thing.

“How can you actually write anything to this crap?”

Until it happens a second time.

“Oh, and I suppose Marlyn Manson is just SOOO much better,” I muttered,
not quite under my breath.

“Hey, watch the references to my past, bastard.”

“I thought you wanted my help,” I shot back.

“I don’t want your fucking help, I want you to fucking write me a damn
story!”

“Well insulting me isn’t going to get anything written any time soon,” I
said, turning my shoulder towards my guest.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she shot back. “Don’t go thinking I’m going to be all
sweet and sensitive and then fuck your brains out.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” I muttered.

“Fuck that, bastard,” she said. “I know Rachael came here and had you do
this for her, and I know you two have been fucking regularly ever since.
That ain’t going to happen with me.”

I turned towards her and gave her a withering look. “Don’t you have a
cable access TV show to do or something?” I spat at her.

“Fuck you, asshole,” she said. “’Charmed’ is one of the top shows on TV
with young men 18-45.”

“Wow, you CAN read Neilson reports after all,” I said sarcastically. “I’m
impressed.”

“Fuck off.”

“Drop the tank top and maybe I will,” I shot back. “You’ve got a lot of
nerve showing up here with an attitude like that and demanding I write you
so much as a postcard.”

“You did it for Rachael, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but she had such a sweeter disposition than you do, Rose.”

I’ll admit I’m not the hugest fan of Rose McGowan. While her body was
hotter than most nuclear reactors I’d known, she had an attitude problem
longer than the trip from Hollywood to my house. As far as I was concerned,
the best thing she ever did was show up at the MTV awards wearing that
“dress” that was little more than black string held together by the sweat
on her bare skin.

“Funny, jackass,” she muttered back at me. Her hair was now dyed red, a
look that didn’t quite fit her as well as the ultra dark locks she used to
have, but it didn’t make her look atrocious, either. My Rachael ­ Rachael
Leigh Cook, that is ­ was renown for dying her hair every other month or
so, and I had become rather accustomed in the last few months to telling
hair dye from natural color and so forth. Rose needed to get back to black.

“So,” I muttered, “What exactly are you looking for here?”

“For you to write a fucking story,” she said, sounding exacerbated.
“Haven’t we been over this?”

“The fact that you want a story, yes. WHY I don’t know,” I said. “I mean,
it’s not like you’ve only got a handful on CSSA. I mean, you’re a freakin’
star of ‘The Harem,’ for crying out loud.”

“Don’t even go there,” she muttered.

“You don’t like the Harem?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s fucking hot, all right. And I wish I could fuck all the girls
that I have in that story, but it’s so unreal.”

“As opposed to anything I write,” I muttered.

“Watch it, Carson-Boy,” she shot back.

“That’s ‘TRL’ to you, ‘Paige,’” I said, using her character’s name from
“Charmed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up,” she said. “I want you to write a nice,
simple little story with me fucking someone.”

“Why me?” I asked, more rhetorically than anything else.

Rose didn’t see it that way. “Because you’re the only one I could find out
how to get in touch with, idiot!” she said. “Your fuck-buddy Rachael
spilled the beans on you while I was screwing her-“

“Whoa!” I said, holding up my hands. “You slept with Rachael?”

I knew there was no real reason for me to be jealous. Rachael and I had an
extremely open relationship that allowed her to explore her budding
bisexuality while I got my rocks off with some of the local chicks. And
while I knew that Rose had tracked me down through Rachael, somehow I
didn’t think I would’ve been the subject of lesbian pillow talk.

And, that aside, I WAS jealous of Rose, for I hadn’t seen Rachael in a few
months, and she’d apparently fucked her pretty recently.

“Yeah, boy, I fucked her real good,” she said. “You’ll be lucky if she
even wants to see your prick again after what I did to her.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, not hiding the sarcasm in her voice, “Did I
hurt your feelings by forcing your fuck-buddy to lick my little love
button?”

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE!” I shouted at her, allowing my anger and
frustration to get the best of me.

That, apparently, got Rose’s attention, as she stepped back a bit and shut
up instantly, her eyes wide with a touch of fear. Her nipples, barely held
in check by a tight T-shirt without a bra underneath, started to get hard,
and I couldn’t avoid glancing at them, despite my anger.

“I want a story,” she said, quieter this time.

I stood there for a second; half mad, half aroused, and all confused as
Rose McGowan grabbed a chair and sat down a little ways away from me. I
stared at her for several LONG seconds, not knowing what I was going to do.
Then, finally, I just sat down in front of my computer and glanced over at
her again.

“What kind of story?” I asked.

“A short one,” she said. “Something I can read in one sitting, and get off
real quick with.”

“Okay,” I said, not bothering to ask why she needed such a thing. I just
wanted to get the whole deal overwith. “Anything specific you want in your
story.”

“Yeah,” she said, reaching for the large handbag she’d brought with her.
Unlike Rachael, who’d shown up at my door months ago with a similar
request, Rose didn’t even have a suitcase. Which was a plus, since I only
had the weekend to do write anything before I had to go back to work.

She pulled out a magazine and tossed it to me. “Make it a ‘Cover Girls’
story,” she said as I grabbed the mag and looked at it. It was a copy of
the older “Maxim” issue with Rose on the cover.

“I don’t really do the ‘Cover Girls’ series any more,” I said, more out of
reflex than anything else.

“Then start it up again,” Rose insisted.

“I’m kinda working on another project anyway,” I continued, leafing
through the magazine anyway.

“Then put that one on hold, jackass!” Rose said, gaining a bit more steam
in her voice.

“Why should I?” I asked. “I mean, are you going to pay me or something?”

“Did you make Rachael pay?” she asked.

That got me to stop. When Rachael Leigh Cook showed up at my door, asking
me to write a sex story about her, the thought of payment never crossed my
mind. At the time, I chalked that up to the fact that she was an insanely
beautiful movie star asking me to do something I probably would’ve done
anyway.

And yet, here was Rose McGowan, also an insanely beautiful movie star,
asking me to write a sex story about her. And it wasn’t like I wouldn’t
have written a sex story about her sometime in the future. The girls of
‘Charmed’ had always appealed to me because they were all a bit on the
short side, had dark hair (save red-headed Rose now), and had a tendency to
wear clothes that emphasized their tits.

So what was holding me back?

Rose clearly saw my hesitation, and didn’t appreciate it. “Fine,” she
said, standing up. For a second, I thought she was leaving, but instead she
approached me.

“You want payment?” she said as she dropped to her knees before me. “I’ll
give you all the fucking payment you want.”

The next thing I knew, my legs were spread wide, my pants were unzipped,
and my now rock-hard member was exposed to the air. By the time I took all
this in, Rose’s lips were already on a direct course to my cock.

I’ve always wondered if I’d ever get tired of blowjobs. I mean, from an
intellectual point of view, its really not that overly erotic. I’ve always
enjoyed seeing what I’m fucking, and the top of a woman’s head isn’t
exactly as sexy as a nice, firm pair of tits staring you in the face.

But then I get another blowjob, and I remember why I’ve never had enough
of them.

Rachael and I perform oral sex on each other frequently, though more often
than not it’s her going down on me. Having been with women who know how to
orally manipulate a woman’s most arousing areas, she finds mind tongue just
a bit lacking (though quite thankfully, she has no such problem with my
dick, and as such we still fuck like jackrabbits when we get together).
Rachael’s blowjobs usually blow me away pretty quick, in more ways than
one. Rachael’s mouth seems the perfect temperature for arousing a penis,
and her tongue is talented enough to send spike after spike of ecstasy with
every lick. After our third or four session of oral sex, I promptly
christened Rachael my “Queen of Blowjobs.”

If Rachael is the Queen of Blowjobs, Rose is an absolute Goddess in the
arts of fellatio.

The instant her tongue hit the tip of my cock, my entire body tensed. My
member seemed to get impossibly harder as she slowly licked her way down
from the eye, around my shaft, and onto my balls with deliberate slowness.
She knew she was doing this to get me off, and I knew she’d succeed pretty
quickly.

The instant her tongue hit my ball sack, she did a 180 and started right
back up, adding a touch more pressure with her tongue. Her lips had yet to
even touch my shaft, and already I could feel my cum churning deep inside.
Never before had a blowjob gotten me so horny so fast. As she reached my
head again, she opened up and engulfed my manhood with her entire mouth.

I moaned aloud now, mere seconds into this fantastic blow, as Rose started
sucking on me ­ hard! The skin around my prick seemed to stretch harder and
harder as Rose seemed to try and vacuum my entire pelvic region into her
mouth. I had never had a more aggressive blowjob in my life.

Suddenly, she slid my prick almost all the way out of her mouth, and
wrapped a hand around the base of my shaft. Instantly, she started
stroking, all while licking her tongue around the very tip of my dick.

I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head, and for several long
seconds, I couldn’t tell what was going on, other than that an enormous
amount of pleasure was radiating out of my cock.

Then I managed to peel my eyes out of my sockets, and glanced down at
Rose. She lifted her head off my manhood, and we locked eyes. In that
instant, I saw something. Something powerful. Unlike with Rachael, whom I
saw a combo of lust and romantic interest when we locked eyes, Rose’s gaze
held something different. Lust was there, to be sure, but so was something
else. Something even more primal than the lust a man and a woman could
share.

It was a need I just couldn’t quite comprehend in that one instant.

Unfortunately, that instant was dramatically short, for as soon as Rose
stroked one more time along the length of my shaft, I came, and I came
hard. My eyes hit the back of their sockets again, and my head lolled back
like the joint of my neck had come loose. Orgasmic waves crashed across my
body, and I knew my cum was blasting out of my penis harder than it had in
a long time. I vaguely remember hearing a slight shriek, but was unable to
do anything as my orgasm continued to fry my nerves, and my seed continued
to flow out of my cock like it was a fire hose.

The next thing I remember was Rose’s voice hitting my ears, and that
attitude of hers was back with a vengeance.

“You fucking BASTARD!” she cried out as I weakly pulled my head up from
off my shoulders. “You ruined my shirt!”

I took me several seconds to focus on Rose, as my eyes were still glazed
over pretty good. AS the blurriness blinked away, I was greeted by a site
that nearly made me blow my load again.

The entire lower half of Rose’s face was covered in my creamy spunk, and
it slowly dripped from both the tip of her nose and the bottom of her chin.
Her shirt, once perfectly white, now featured a dark, wet spot that clearly
wasn’t from water. Focused right over the cleft between her breasts, the
dampness made the already tight shirt literally stick to her breasts,
leaving almost nothing from my probing eyes.

At any other time, an instant hard-on would’ve plagued me, but as I
glanced up at Rose’s face, I saw a fury in her eyes that made me both go
limp in the groin, and fear for my own safety.

“Write,” she said with a snarl, standing up. “Just fucking write.” She
reached down and pulled off her shirt. Shame seemed to be completely absent
from her mind, and to be honest, with natural C-cup tits like hers, I
couldn’t blame her.

“Where’s your fucking shower?” she demanded.

“All the way upstairs,” I said slowly. “Just to the right of the stairs.
It’s green, you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, heading up the stairs and leaving me alone with
the computer. “You’d better have something written by the time I get back!”

I watched her go, wondering just how crazy my life was destined to get.
Then I realized that my pants were covered in my spunk, too, and that
changing might not be a bad idea.

* * *

Half an hour isn’t much time to write a story. Especially if you take five
minutes to throw on a new pair of pants, start some laundry, and check your
email. It’s even less time when you spend fifteen minutes staring blankly
at a wall, unable to get Rose McGowan’s cum-covered face out of your mind.

Needless to say, my latest celebrity guest was far from pleased with the
single page I had written so far.

“Fucking A, man. This is all a blow job will get these days?” Rose said,
looking over my shoulder as we reviewed the story. She wore the same simple
black skirt she’d worn to my place earlier, but had replaced her “soiled”
shirt with one of my button up dress shirts. The white fabric clinched
around her tits even more so than the T-shirt had, and the fact that she
left the top two and bottom two buttons unbuttoned made her that much more
erotic. Red hair or not, part of me felt like throwing her onto my pool
table and seeing if I could “sink a few balls.”

Unfortunately, the ever-horny Rose McGowan was feeling considerably less
horny than I was at the moment.

“Sorry,” I muttered defensively. “I was a bit distracted.”

“Aren’t you like one of the more detailed writers on CSSA?” Rose demanded.
“A little story like this shouldn’t take that long.”

“Did I mention I spend months at a time on a story?” I asked.

“I can’t believe Rachael’s sleeping with you,” Rose muttered.

“I can’t believe she slept with YOU,” I said.

“What’s the matter, afraid your little movie star is turning into a lesbo
slut?” Rose said. “She’s gone back to that twat Katie Holmes more than once
since she met you.”

“I know that,” I said. In fact, Rachael had spent a great deal of time
explaining her sexual history with Katie to me, and just as when Rose had
told me about her sexual tryst with Rachael, I was a little jealous of
other celebs fucking my Rachael.

Or was I jealous of Rachael fucking other celebs?

“Yeah?” Rose said. “Did you know that your girlfriend is tramping about
Hollywood like a lesbian whore for hire?”

“What?” I said, not understanding where Rose was going.

“I mean your precious little RLC is quietly making it known that any woman
who wants her can have her,” Rose said. “That’s how I got between her
legs.”

“Fuck off,” I said, turning away from the computer.

“She said you knew about it.”

“I DO know about it!” I said, getting angry.

Rose looked at me for a second, then gave me a little smirk. “You’re
Jealous.” It wasn’t a question.

“FUCK. OFF.” I said, standing up to look Rose right in the eyes. This time
I saw a mix of humor and strength, with a slight tint of fear, and a far
too healthy dose of self-righteousness. We stared at each other for several
seconds, barely blinking, and neither looking away.

Finally, she backed down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know Rachael means a
lot to you,” she said. It was, to be honest, the least hostile I think I’ve
ever seen her, even on TV or in the movies.

“Yeah,” I said, looking away. “Yeah, she does.”

“Listen, can you write my story for me?” She asked. Asked. No demands, no
swearing, no yelling. She asked me.

For perhaps the first time since she came into my life, I smiled at Rose.

“Yeah,” I said. “I can write your story.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling back at me. “I’m going to drive around a bit.
I’ll be back in an hour or so, if that’s all right with you?”

“Sure,” I said, sitting down at the computer. “I may have a little more
for you by then.”

“Great,” she said, smiling one last time before heading up the stairs. I
watched her go again, once again amazed at just how strange my life seemed
to get some days.

* * *

“So I just fuck this girl?”

I frowned. My idea for Rose’s story wasn’t exactly what she was looking
for.

“It’s what you asked for,” I pointed out.

“But I just fuck her in my trailer,” Rose said. “It’s kinda cliché, don’t
you think?”

“The whole “Cover Girls” series was a bit cliché,” I answered.

“No, cliché for that series would’ve been having one photographer fuck
every girl. It’d get boring after a while. You did different stuff each
time.”

“Still….” I said, trailing off.

“Listen,” Rose said, coming around behind me, pointing my towards the
computer screen. “It’s not bad, especially for a short story. But it needs
more heat.”

“You’re fucking a girl barely out of high school,” I pointed out. “How
does life get hotter than that?”

“Guys,” she said. “It’s all about age with men. That, and the size of her
tits.” She raised her hand to my mouth and popped something in before I
could see what it was. Clamping her hand over my lips, she quickly forced
me to swallow.

“What the fuck was that?” I asked.

“A little treat,” she said, taking out a pill bottle from her purse. “I
think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I said, adamantly. As if I could get the little pill
out of my system now that I had swallowed it.

“No?” she said, sounding a little surprised. “Usually you artistic types
are all over the ‘sense enhancement’ scene.”

“Maybe out in La-La Land, but I’m a bit more down to earth,” I said,
stubbornly. Truth be told, I was just a bit more of a control freak ­
drugs, alcohol, even cigarettes made me feel like I was loosing control,
and I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Really,” Rose said, smiling slightly. “You don’t even do a little X?” she
asked.

“Ecstasy?” I asked. “No, I’m not into the party scene.”

“But you are into the orgy scene,” Rose asked.

“What?”

“Rachael says you enjoy a lot of women. I’d thought you would’ve tried a
little ecstasy by now.”

“I don’t need anything to help me get laid, or to enjoy it,” I said.

“Hmph,” Rose said, popping the pill into her mouth and swallowing.

“Is that what you gave me?” I asked, standing up. “Ecstasy?”

“No,” Rose said at once. “But if you’d like to try some, I’ve got several
more doses worth.”

“No thanks,” I said. “What DID you give me?”

“Relax,” she said, turning around and waving at me dismissively. “It’s
just a little something to pick you up. All herbal, I promise you. No
harmful side effects.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Positive,” she replied. “Wanna’ go grab something to eat?” She asked,
changing the subject a little desperately.

“Huh?” I said, taken aback by her quick switch.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “You want to go grab something to eat with me?”

“What about your story?” I asked.

“It’s Saturday night, baby!” She said, taking me by the hands and pulling
me towards the stairs. “Both you and I need to get out of this basement and
into some place public. At least for an hour or so.”

“I don’t know…” I said, wondering if I should go along or not.

“C’mon,” she said. “You can show me off like I’m your girlfriend or
something.” With that, she gave me a quick little wink, and I wondered just
how playful Rose McGowan got when out on the town.

“All right,” I said, giving up. “I’ll go.”

“Great,” she said, jumping up once and landing with a clap of her hands.
“Let’s have some fun.”

* * *

Fun, in a small town like the one I live in, is essentially dinner at the
restaurant down the road from my place, maybe hitting the three-screen
movie theatre downtown, and then hitting one of the two dives that had the
audacity to call themselves dance clubs on the other side of town. Rachael
had been one of the first to show me the insides of those clubs, and unless
she was in town and desperately felt the need to dance, I’ve made it a
point to NOT go back.

Rose and I shared a quick dinner at the local Mom and Pop, and the whole
time she tried to convince me to hit one of the clubs. She used one of my
few major weaknesses in life ­ a pretty face with a pout on it ­ to get me
to agree to go along, and forty minutes after leaving my place we were
pressed in against the locals, dancing along to music several decibels
louder than I would ever consider healthy.

I’m no dancer. I like to joke that I have two left feet, and they both
reside in my right foot. I’m not unknown for tripping over my own toes on a
totally flat surface. But with Rose McGowan with me, I found myself in the
middle of the dance floor, cavorting about like a half-crazed sex maniac.

Actually, considering who I was dancing with, I could’ve been dancing
about buck naked except for a rubber chicken hat and a sign on my back
reading “I like it from behind” and still gone unnoticed.

Rose was an absolute wild woman. Her body, all together pleasing when it
was standing still, moved with an almost liquid ease, twisting and turning
in such ways to arouse most dead men to a complete standing erection. More
than once she used me to dip down backwards, flashing her cleavage to the
room, only to follow it up by jumping up and showing off her thong to
anyone who cared to look ­ and a LOT of people cared to look.

I guessed most people hadn’t seen her new red hairdo, because she was
never recognized the whole time, and more than one woman asked her where
she worked. Of course, more than one woman asked her if she swung “both
ways,” as well. Oddly enough, Rose said to each of them “Not tonight, babe.
I’m working off a debt.”

After about twenty minutes of working herself up into a slight sweat, and
working every man up into a raging hard-on, Rose and I sat down at one of
the tables in the corner, making sure we didn’t sit in anything that looked
like it might dissolve our clothes upon contact.

It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized something wasn’t quite right.

I was horny. In fact, my penis was rock hard, almost as bad as it had been
when Rose had blown me earlier. And while Rose’s dancing had been quite
erotic, usually I required a bit more than just some dancing to get this
aroused.

“Ah,” Rose said, glancing at me as I adjusted my pants so that my dick
didn’t rip out into the open air. “I see it’s been a little more than an
hour now.”

“What?” I asked her.

“I have a confession,” she said, leaning in closer to me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, leaning in close to her as well.
She leaned across the table and pressed her hands around my ear, so as to
make sure I heard what she said next.

“That wasn’t an herbal pill I gave you,” she said. For an instant, fear
gripped my heart.

“What-“ I started to ask, but she put a finger to my lips to quiet me.

“It was Viagra.”

I pulled away from her and look at her in complete disbelief. My manhood
seemed to stretch ever harder against my pants.

“Why?” I finally managed to ask a few heartbeats later.

“Because,” Rose said, standing up and taking me by the hand. “I wanted you
to relax, and to experience some of the heat I want in my story.”

She pulled me towards the back of the club, her ass swaying in such a
manner as to send the signal that she was primed to fuck that instant. As
we approached the rear of the club, she pulled me up next to her and
whispered into my ear again.

“You read the last chapter of ‘Journal of an Agent?’” she asked me.

“Of course,” I said, wondering where this was going.

“Good. You remember what Dean and ‘I’ did in the restroom of that
restaurant?”

I paused for a second before it hit me what was about to happen. Then Rose
pushed me into the ladies restroom, following close behind. A heartbeat
later, she was locking the door, and quickly checking under the stall
doors. No one else was in the place (something that amazed me when I
thought about it later), and before I knew it, Rose was back at me, her
lips all over mine as we kissed for the first time.

Seconds later, I felt her hands pulling at my belt, and my cock was
suddenly able to breathe a giant sigh of relief. Then, half a heartbeat
later, my manhood was surrounded again, as Rose’s petal-soft hand wrapped
her fingers around my bulging member and rapidly began to stroke.

All the breath left my lungs as Rose’s other hand slid up under my shirt
to press against the skin on my chest. Her lips pressed hard against mine,
forcing my head back against the wall, and for a moment, my whole world
spun ­ the lack of oxygen starting to get to me. Breathing through my nose
seemed like it would break the spell I was under, and I’m almost certain a
part of me would’ve been willing to suffocate to death if the last thing I
was doing was getting a massive hand job from Rose McGowan.

But before the blackness came forever, Rose pulled away and turned towards
the sinks.

“Take me,” she said, lifting up her skirt and pushing down her thong.
“Take me from behind.” She leaned over one of the sinks, and spread her
legs. I just stood there, dumbfounded and entranced in chemically assisted
lust as I stared at Rose’s perfect ass.

“NOW!” Rose cried out a few seconds later, and that command was all I
needed. The next thing I knew, I was sliding my dick into Rose’s sopping
wet pussy from behind. One of my hands hit the sink counter to support
myself, while the other wrapped around Rose’s front, where I started
groping one of her perfect tits. Then I started thrusting.

I’d never been on Viagra before in my life. Quite frankly, I’d never
needed it, and the thought of taking a pill that would keep me hard during
sex seemed a little redundant ­ after all, I kept hard just fine on my own.
Recreational usage of Viagra had never crossed my mind.

But as I stood there, quickly thrusting myself in and out of Rose’s
drenched cunt, I began to wonder if maybe there was something to it after
all. I very quickly felt my second orgasm of the day approaching, and from
Rose’s reactions, I thought perhaps she was in a similar position in terms
of climax.

“FUCK. ME. HARD!” Rose screamed, and I doubled my efforts, my cock a blur
as I put everything I had into pounding Rose as hard as possible.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t maintain that kind of pressure for long ­ mere
seconds after I started ultra-thrusting into Rose, my balls exploded, and
my cum went flying out mid-stroke.

I collapsed backwards to the floor, hitting my head slightly as I did so.
Once again, the room around we swam, but I was quickly brought back to
reality as Rose suddenly straddled my crotch.

“Bastard,” she said, slapping my chest. “I wasn’t done yet!”

I was about to say I was sorry, when suddenly she slid herself over my
engorged dick, and all thoughts of even speaking vanished as Rose started
humping me like a jackrabbit.

I’ll admit right now that a part of me really enjoys it when a woman wants
to be on top ­ sure, it feels about the same as when I’m on top, but the
thought that a woman needs my cock so much that she can’t stop herself from
mounting me and fucking me senseless just really appealed to me.

I was shocked that, despite my own orgasm, that my manhood was still that
­ manly. My penis hadn’t lost any of its hardness, and for several minutes,
Rose bounced up and down atop of me, her barely contained tits flopping up
and down above me. It was a sight I knew just about any author at CSSA
would’ve given his left nut to see ­ Rose McGowan, straddling your waist
while pumping up and down on your cock and letting her ample tits bounce
about like there was no tomorrow. Of course, none of them would believe me,
but that was beside the point.

The point was that Rose McGowan was about to explode all over me as we
fucked each other on the floor.

I felt Rose’s pussy lips clamp tighter around my shaft, and instantly I
knew she was about to cum. The added pressure was enough to get me off
again, and as she collapsed in orgasm on top of me, I filled her again with
my seed.

We lay like that for several minutes, just trying to catch our breath and
regain the strength to move again. I was almost out of it, my head spinning
in a mixture of orgasmic bliss, confusion of Rose’s motives, and that touch
of guilt I always got when I fucked a girl other than Rachael.

Rose, on the other hand, had no problem at all with her head. She quickly
slid off my still aching-hard penis as grabbed her panties. Sliding them up
over her legs and under her skirt, she ordered me to get up.

“Wha?” I asked, struggling to even get to my knees.

“Hurry up, Jackass,” Rose said, helping me to my feet. “You really think
people aren’t going to wonder why the bathroom’s locked?”

I spent the next minute or two reacquiring my pants and putting myself
together enough to walk out, and soon Rose and I were headed towards the
main door, leaving the club behind. I was sure that SOMEONE had to see us
slip out of the bathroom, but no one stopped us, and before I knew it, we
were in the car, racing home.

My penis was still hard as rock, and Rose made it a point to ride me a
couple more times before we drifted off to sleep in my bed, her story left
completely untouched.

* * *

To be fair, I’m not a morning person. In fact, you could say that I don’t
function well at all until I’ve been up at least an hour, had a good
shower, something to eat, and time to sit and pry my eyes apart.

For that reason, I don’t really “sleep” with girls. More often than not,
when I wake up, I’m still dead to the world, unable to complete full
sentences or think beyond basic human needs of food, shelter, and a working
bathroom.

So, in retrospect, I should’ve known better than to let Rose spend the
night in my bed. Still, hours of wild, and mildly kinky sex has proven
before ­ and is sure to again ­ to be enough to fuddle my brain up
something awful.

I rolled off my bed in a fashion that would be considered anything but
intelligent, and was lucky not to bang my head on the bookcase resting
nearby. As it was, one of my feet landed on one of my shoes (left foot to
right shoe, just for irony’s sake) and standing up proved to be an even
clumsier showing that just falling out of bed. My eyes were practically
caked shut with eye dust, and my mouth felt like it had been first glued
shut, then drained of all moisture, leaving me dry and raspy. My hair, more
curly than I’d like as it is, was sticking out in more directions than
gravity should allow for, and I was sure that nothing short of a full-blown
shower would get it back to it’s usual almost-combed state that I suffered
with on a daily basis.

As I pried my eyes open, I practically stumbled back into my bookshelf
again. Rose lay on my bed, her hair perfectly arrayed behind her head in a
fan-shape that seemed to form a crown around her. The covers barely came up
to her knees, leaving the rest of her perfect naked body exposed to the
room. Her pert and perky breasts could’ve been used as textbook examples of
how breasts should look, and her completely shaven pelvic region seemed to
radiate a simple, sensual beauty that carried a silent siren’s song,
leading men to their ruins ­ and probably more than a few women. Her hands
lay at her sides, and her breathing was neat and shallow. Eyes closed, she
seemed far more angelic than someone with her reputation would even expect
to be.

I stood there, my own nakedness forgotten, as I gazed at this beauty that
I had just had sex with the night before, wondering if I was even awake.
Not since Rachael had come into my life had I dreamed I would see such
beauty in my bed. And, to be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure I wasn’t
dreaming.

Until Rose’s eyes blinked awake, and she sat up and looked at me.

“Do you always stand in front of women naked like that first thing in the
morning?” she asked as she stretched. I glanced down at my nakedness, and
quickly moved to grab my robe, only stumbling slightly over my shoe.

“Don’t bother getting too dressed,” Rose said. “You aren’t going anywhere
today.”

“I’m not?” I asked, my voice cracking in my mouth as I spoke for the first
time that morning.

“You’ve got to finish my story,” she said. “And you’ve got to finish it
before I leave. My flight leaves at 9 tonight, so I’ll have to leave her
about 7:30 at the latest.”

My mind sat unworking for a second, then clicked into drive as I looked at
the clock. It was already after ten in the morning!

“I’d better get showered and then get writing, I guess.”

“You damn well better,” Rose said, getting out of bed. I stared
unabashedly at her perfect legs as she swung around and landed perfectly on
the floor.

“Stop glaring at me and get to work,” Rose demanded, tossing a pillow at
my head. The impact was just enough to get me moving.

* * *

After a quick shower and shave ­ but without getting beyond my bathrobe in
the way of clothing ­ I spent the next two hours typing away at my story.
Truth be told, with the proper motivation, the right music in the air, and
few distractions, I could easily whipped off the short little story Rose
was looking for well before she needed to leave. One of the pluses of my
“Cover Girls” series was that it was designed to be shorter stories that
were focused more on sex than real plot, and I could pull that off in
rather short order.

With Rose’s issue of Maxim lying on the table next to me, a little Britney
Spears playing lightly in the background, and my hard-on poking out of my
robe every few minutes, I was more than able to write a mildly detailed sex
sequence between Rose and one of her female fans.

The problem was distractions. Or rather, one distraction in particular ­
Rose.

“So, do you watch ‘Charmed’ a lot?” she asked me just as I was getting to
the part where she started to remove her fan’s clothes in my story.

“Huh?” I asked, glancing up from the computer. “Uh, not really,” I
admitted. “I catch it every now and then, but I don’t go out of my way to
catch it.”

“Hmph,” she muttered. “What about when Shannon was there?”

I scratched my head for a second. “You know, I think I can remember maybe
two episodes I’ve seen with Shannon in them, if that.”

“So you’ve watched more since I came along?”

“Only because I’ve caught more episodes in the last year or so,” I
answered honestly.

“So, who do you like better ­ Shannon or me?” she asked.

“Loaded question,” I replied, having been with enough women to know a
question that I wouldn’t be able to get out of without her getting upset
about SOME part of it. “If I say Shannon, you get upset that I liked her
better. I say YOU, and you get upset that I’m not watching more episodes
than I am.”

“You’ve clearly dated women before,” she shot back at me playfully. I
looked up at her and for the first time noticed what she was wearing.

It was one of my shirts, a button up number that must have dated back to
my high school days. It covered her torso completely, but barely dropped
below the bottom of her ass. She left the top three buttons undone,
exposing just enough cleavage to be a reminder of what a knock-out rack she
had, and left her legs bare to complement that added sexuality. From the
way she was sitting, with her legs crossed before her, I couldn’t tell if
she was wearing panties or not, but I wouldn’t have been surprised to see
the pair she’d worn the day before still on the floor of my bedroom. Her
hair was flat behind her head, a simple statement for a girl who could pull
off simple quite well. She held a cup of coffee in one hand, and seemed to
be looking over some papers in front of her with the other.

“What’re you looking at, anyway?” I asked while trying to keep at least
slowly moving along in my story.

“One of your stories,” she said. “I printed it out while you were in the
shower earlier.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“The one you wrote about Rachael,” she said. “’Long Lost Newfound
Lovers.’”

“Catchy title, huh?” I said, not really paying too much attention.

“It’s pretty good, for a fluffy romantic piece.”

“Hey, there’s a LOT of sex in there,” I said, a bit defensively.

“You must really like Rachael.”

I looked up at her, and saw that she wasn’t reading the story, but rather
looking right at me.

“I do,” I said, “But if you go by the stories I’ve written, you could make
the same argument for Britney Spears, Faith Hill, and all four girls of
Dream.”

“No, you couldn’t,” she said. “Those are really just fuck pieces. You’d
screw each of those women if you got the chance, just like you did to me
last night.”

I looked at her for a second. “Don’t tell me you’re regretting what
happened last night,” I said.

“Hell no,” Rose said. “But I wonder if you will one day.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, not quite sure I wanted to know.

“Listen, it’s not really any of my business, but I don’t think you and
Rachael will last.”

I felt a cold hand grip my heart, but it certainly wasn’t the first time
the thought had been forced into my brain.

Ever since Rachael and I had first hooked up, I had the awful feeling that
it wouldn’t last long. Each time we were able to get together for even a
day or two made me wonder if it was our last. And to be honest, I wasn’t a
hundred percent sure that I really wanted it to last.

Rose seemed to take my quiet as a denial, for she went on.

“I mean, look at the two of you,” Rose said, swinging towards me on her
chair. “You both sleep around with other women any chance you get. Neither
one of you so much as blinked while you were fucking me, and even the way
you met is a stretch for one to believe you two will make it past next
week. I mean, you got together because she wanted you to write a sex story
about her!”

“Which, I might point out, is exactly how WE met,” I threw in, a touch
more bitterly than I meant to.

“Yeah, but you and I aren’t going to be dating each other when I leave
here later tonight.”

“What exactly are you trying to get at here, Rose?” I asked. “I mean,
what’s in it for you if Rachael and I break up?”

“In it for me?” Rose asked, looking a little more upset than I had
expected. “I’m sorry, I’m just looking out for two people I thought were
friends.”

“Friends you’ve just happened to both fuck silly, right?” I said, turning
to face her.

“Fuck off, bastard,” Rose said, and I felt a tinge of déjà vu run through
my brain. Rose and I had spent half our time yesterday arguing. Of course,
the other half had been spent fucking each other, but the arguing hadn’t
been exactly pleasant.

And yet, Rose had a serious point. I didn’t know how long Rachael and I
would be together, and I didn’t even know if I wanted us to be together. I
mean, I had serious feelings towards her, but I could never imagine either
one of us going out of our ways to include the other in our lives. Both of
us were enjoying our “open” relationship right now, and it helped both of
us out on different levels. I got to keep my rather voracious sexual
appetite in check with women I picked up around town, and Rachael got to
experiment with her bisexuality all she wanted out in Hollywood.

Rose was still going on.

“I didn’t have to come to you, jackass,” she said, standing up and walking
towards me. “I could’ve found any number of useless hacks out in Hollywood
who could do what you’re doing twice as fast and without the fucking!”

“Yeah, but you’d have to pay them with money,” I said. Then I looked up at
her. “Explain to me again why you DID choose me.”

Rose looked me up and down for a moment or two, and then seemed to
physically shrink a bit. She sighed once, and her shoulders sunk. Her face
turned downwards, and her entire presence changed right before my eyes.

“I didn’t choose you,” she said, her voice low and slightly pained.

“What?” I said, not sure I heard her.

“I didn’t choose you,” she repeated. “Rachael did.”

“Rachael,” I said, confusion sweeping across my brain. “MY Rachael?
Rachael Leigh Cook?”

“Yes,” Rose said, adding a bit of frustration to her voice. “THAT
Rachael.”

My entire body seemed to freeze up, as my head tried to understand what
was really going on.

“I wouldn’t have chosen you to write a story about me, even if I wanted
one,” Rose said. “I would’ve picked that KMB guy, the one who writes the
Harem stories.”

“I know who KMB is,” I said, distractedly. “Why did you come to me, then?”

“Because,” Rose said, looking at me. In her eyes, I saw a pained look,
mixed with a bit of disgust. “I lost a bet.”

“With Rachael?” I asked, more confused than ever.

“Yes,” Rose whispered. “She turned me on to the whole CSSA site in the
first place. It was all her idea.”

“What was the bet?” I asked, not entirely paying attention to what she was
saying. I still couldn’t figure out why Rachael would send Rose to me in
the first place.

“Rachael bet me that I couldn’t get her a guest role on ‘Charmed.’”

“WHAT?” I cried out. “You can’t expect me to believe that the producers of
Charmed wouldn’t want her to guest star.”

“Oh, they wanted her,” Rose said. “They just didn’t want her for the guest
role she wanted to play.”

“Which was?”

“Did you see the first show of this season?”

“The one with the mermaids?” I asked.

She nodded. “Rachael wanted the role that Jamie Pressly ended up getting.”

I had seen the episode, mostly due to the buzz on CSSA due to Jamie’s
presence on the show. I had to admit, it wasn’t bad, but I couldn’t see why
Rachael would want the role in the first place, let alone why she’d try to
get Rose to get it for her.

“It wasn’t so much the role,” Rose admitted, as if reading my mind. “It
was more the challenge in seeing if I could get her the role.”

“Why couldn’t you?” I asked, my voice horse.

“I don’t know, they’d already chosen Jamie and she’d signed a contract or
something. Even giving the head writer a blowjob didn’t work.” Having had
one of Rose’s blowjobs, I figured she must have not been going after the
right people, because no man who received head from Rose’s mouth would be
capable of denying her anything afterwards.

“So Rachael made you come here to get a story written?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” Rose said. “She sent me to you, telling me to ask you to
write me a story. What the story was wasn’t important ­ all that mattered
to her was that you and I fuck.”

I shook my head, disbelief coursing through my blood. I couldn’t imagine
any reason why Rachael would want me to fuck Rose. She knew I slept with
other women, and she seemed to approve, but I didn’t think she’d bother to
send me other women to sleep with.

“So, what?” I asked. “You’re just here to be my whore for the weekend?”

Rose shook her head. “Not your whore,” she said, standing up and dropping
my shirt to the floor. She was, indeed, completely naked underneath, and my
eyes flashed from her breasts to her cunt and then back to her face in a
single heartbeat. “I’m here as your muse.”

“My muse?” I asked.

“Rachael told me to tell you that she thought you could use a more
energetic approach to the sex in your stories, which is why she sent me.”

Rose was walking closer to me know, and I felt my erection grow enough to
pop out of my robe. I could tell from Rose’s manner that she was coming to
engage me in some sort of sexual activity, and while I wasn’t totally
inclined to deny her anything like that, I had something to get to first.

Namely, my celebrity girlfriend.

Standing up, I undid my robe and let it fall to the floor. “How’re we
going to do this?” I asked Rose. I was pleased to she her taken aback by my
newly forward approach. I needed Rose off guard for a bit, and becoming the
more dominant one for a bit would work just fine, I figured.

“Uh, I was going to blow you…” Rose said, trailing off as I shook my head
and sat back down.

“No go,” I said. “You’re a little too talented with your tongue, and I
need to be able to speak while we’re fucking.”

“What?” She asked, but I didn’t bother to go into greater detail. I spread
my legs just a bit, and made sure my chair was pressed up against the table
adjacent to my computer. Her look grew even more confused ­ which actually
suited her new red hairdo quite a bit, I thought. Confusion could be quite
sexy at times.

“Straddle me,” I ordered her. “And keep quiet.”

Rose opened her mouth to ask me something, but I cut her off by holding up
my finger to my mouth in a call for silence. She stared at me for a second,
but then came forward and straddled my lap with hers.

Slowly, Rose McGowan lowered her snatch on to my pole, sliding over my
effortlessly as her juices were already flowing. I wondered briefly if Rose
actually got off on guys being dominant towards her, but decided that it
didn’t really matter.

Rose took all of my rock hard member into her pussy, and gently started to
slide up and down, stroking my with her pussy lips. I allowed myself a few
seconds to savor the sensation before I did what I needed to do next.

As Rose slowly humped me, I reached over for the phone, and dialed Rachael
Leigh Cook’s cell phone.

“Hello?”

I hadn’t heard Rachael’s voice in more than a week, and despite my
seething anger towards what she had done ­ and the sensation of Rose’s
hungry crotch slurping up my cock ­ I treasured the sound as a pleasure
that could only be beat by hearing more of it.

“Hey, babe,” I said into the phone, holding a finger to Rose’s lips as she
humped up and down on me.

“Hey, you,” Rachael said. “I bet I know why you’re calling,” she added,
her voice a sing-song melody that made my heart ­ and a portion of my anger
­ melt away like ice cream on a hot summer day.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “I bet you don’t know the half of it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Rachael. Rose whimpered slightly behind my
finger, one of her hands falling to her breast, massaging the orb gently
with her fingers. “I know a lot of things,” Rachael added, her voice
mischievous and slightly taunting.

“Oh, so you know that Rose McGowan’s here?” I asked.

“Yep,” Rachael said, obviously proud of herself.

“And you know she wanted me to write her a story?” I asked. Rose whimpered
again, her fingers pinching her nipple, obviously trying to add more
pleasure to her situation. I allowed my free hand to fall to Rose’s ass,
and I pushed her down onto my dick a little harder than she was going.

“Yep, knew that, too,” Rachael said.

“And you knew she was looking to fuck my brains out,” I said, allowing
just a hint of accusation to hit my voice. Rose’s eyes went a little wider,
though I couldn’t tell if it was because of what I was saying, or because
my penis had hit a particularly sensitive spot in her pussy.

“Uh, I thought it might happen,” Rachael said, the confidence dripping
away from her voice. “But you know I’m all right with that,” she added,
just a bit defensively.

“Just as I’m all right with you having fucked Rose earlier,” I said, my
voice getting harder.

“Is there something wrong with me and you fucking the same girl?” Rachael
asked, desperately trying to gain some kind of control in our conversation.

“Oh no,” I said, “Nothing wrong with it at all. In fact, Rose is riding me
right now.”

“What?” Rachael’s confusion hit a new note, and to mark it, I thrust up
into Rose just a bit harder, my hand holding her ass in place.

“Oh, yeah, she’s got a really tight cunt,” I added, continuing to thrust
into Rose while talking to Rachael. “Almost as tight as yours was that
first time you and I did it, Rachael.”

“What are you talking about?” Rachael asked. “Why are you calling me?”

“Oh, I just wanted to talk to you,” I said. “To let you know what was
going on with my weekend, what I was up to, and how much I enjoyed your
gift.”

“My gift,” Rachael echoed me, her voice dead calm. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” I said, not letting her say anything else. “Rose is a perfect
fuck. She’s soft in the right places, hard in others, and wet in the two
spots that count most. Her pussy is perfect for draining a cock dry, and
she gives the best head. But you already knew that, didn’t you Rachael?”
She didn’t answer, so I kept going. Rose’s eyes were wide with a mixture of
shock, confusion, and lust.

“In fact, I’d say she’s the perfect little fuck-toy,” I said. “And the
perfect MUSE.”

The phone was silent for several seconds, and I knew that where ever
Rachael was, she knew I had learned what was going on.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice almost a whisper. “I thought
you’d enjoy her.”

I sighed, trying hard not to blow my load deep into Rose while I talked
with Rachael. I’d suddenly had enough of being mean to the person whose
opinion mattered most to me.

“Listen, Rachael, you and I have a very unique relationship,” I said, my
voice suddenly soft and comforting. I had argued before with women, and
knew a little bit about defusing them before things got out of hand. Using
the proper tone ­ part comforting, part conciliatory, and part
complimentary ­ helped. It wasn’t always enough, but sometimes it was all
it took. “Because we allow each other to fuck other women, we’re rather
open to all sorts of kinky ideas. That’s not a bad thing at all. But we
have to be careful of crossing each others boundaries with our kinky
ideas.”

“Sending you Rose as a treat was crossing one of your boundaries?” she
asked. Her tone was filled with a bit of sorrow, and a not-to-subtle sigh
of relief.

“It’s not the sending of Rose that I don’t like,” I said, moving my hand
from Rose’s ass to her free tit, cupping it with my fingers. The redhead
swooned on my cock, but kept humping.

“Then where’s the problem?” Rachael asked.

“The problem is that you sent her to me as a Muse. You were saying to me
that you thought my stories were getting flat, and that I needed something
new to inspire me.”

Understanding filled Rachael’s voice now as she replied. “And you’re very
protective of your writing,” she said. “I knew that.”

I smiled, and squeezed Rose’s boob a little harder. I glanced up in time
to see her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she gripped my
shoulders with her hands as she climaxed on top of me. I kept thrusting
into her gently, but continued to talk with Rachael.

“Yeah,” I said into the phone, “You knew that. I don’t mind a little
constructive criticism every now and then, but next time, just talk to me
about it. Don’t send me a celebrity ‘muse’ and hope I get the message.”

I heard Rachael sigh, and could imagine her elfin form slumping slightly
in relief. God, I missed her.

Rose had practically collapsed onto me, her torso on my, pressing me back
into my chair.

“Listen, babe,” I said to Rachael as I stroked Rose’s hair with my free
hand, “I need to go, but I’ll call you later. Are we all right?”

“Yeah,” Rachael said. I could imagine her sad little smile now, and the
thought of her perfect facial features actually got me a little harder in
the penis. “Maybe I’ll swing by myself in a few weeks.”

“That’d be great, babe,” I said. Rose was still humping, and I could feel
the stirrings of a real sexual charge building inside me. If I didn’t end
this soon, I’d be climaxing while on the phone ­ and that might just undo
some of the good I had just accomplished with Rachael.

“I love you,” Rachael said to me.

“Love you, too, Babe,” I said.

“Bye-bye.”

“Bye,” I said, hanging up the phone.

“You two need therapy,” Rose said to me, straightening her back to tower
above me again. My cock was now screaming for release, but I held back. I
had dealt with Rachael, now I needed to deal with Rose.

“Yeah, well I can think of a great therapeutic action I can take right
now,” I said.

“Oh yeah?” Rose asked, her voice suddenly silky and seductive. She’d
zeroed in on where I was going a lot faster than I had expected, costing me
my element of surprise.

So I decided to get it back.

It took just about every ounce of strength I had in my arms and legs to
stand up while keeping Rose impaled on my cock. I twisted about quickly,
landing her ass on the low table beside me, my rock hard member never
leaving her sweet pussy. She landed with a bit of a thump; her hair shook
up around her face. Sweat plastered it to her forehead, and a strand or two
connected with her lips, forcing her to push them aside.

At a most basic level, she hadn’t looked more carnally erotic in her
entire visit.

“Sex is VERY therapeutic,” I said with a smirk before driving my aching
cock deeper into her velvety tunnel.

I fucked Rose McGowan. And I mean FUCKED. There was no loving embrace, no
erotic foreplay. No words were spoken outside of grunts of pleasure. I
thrusted into her, and she ground onto me. My lips were all over her
breasts and nipples, my teeth occasionally scraping along her flesh. Her
hands were all over my back and hair, pulling at me at the most pleasurable
moments.

We never once locked eyes.

I lasted maybe five or six minutes ­ no record session there, but I had
been buried into her snatch since I started my phone call with Rachael
several minutes earlier. I needed the release, and when it came, it knocked
both of us to the floor.

Literally.

I don’t remember how long we lay there, our sweat soaked bodies meshed
together by exhaustion. Rose did tell me that she had climaxed at the same
time, though to be honest, I couldn’t tell you if she was telling me the
truth or not, but it didn’t matter.

Several minutes later, I pried myself loose from Rose’s body, and sat down
at the computer.

* * *

“You really aren’t mad with me?” Rose asked.

I smiled and shook my head. “No, Rose, I’m not mad with you at all. Go
home and give Rachael an extra hard fucking for me.”

Rose smiled, but didn’t move from my kitchen just yet.

I had finished the story less than forty minutes ago, and it was fast
approaching the 7:30 deadline Rose had put on her departure for the
airport. I wasn’t going with her.

“You know,” she said, “Rachael was the one who approached me. I never
would’ve made a move on her first. She just doesn’t seem like the type to
enjoy a little lesbian loving.”

I snorted slightly. “I know what you mean. The first time I caught her
with another woman, I thought I’d loose my mind. I’m all for lesbians, but
it still comes as a shock when you discover the girl you’ve fallen in love
with is one.”

“Actually, I find it a bit of a relief,” Rose said. “But, then again, I AM
a girl, so that works in my favor.” We chuckled, and I handed her the bag
she’d brought with her.

“So, you enjoyed the story?” I asked.

She smiled at me and nodded. “It was great. A quick little lesbian fuck.
I’m shocked you could write that with what little time you had.”

“Sometimes I can really pull off short stories like that quickly. Just
takes the right kind of motivation.”

“Or the right muse?” Rose asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief and
humor.

“Or the right muse,” I agreed with a smirk. “Now, get yourself moving, or
you’ll miss your flight.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Rose said, turning towards the door. “I still think
that KMB fellow would’ve done a better job with the story.”

“Well, you find a girl who’s fucking him, seduce her into letting you be
his muse, and see what you get,” I said, swatting her playfully on the
shoulder.

“Oh no, I’m not doing anything like that again any time soon. I’m going to
go back to Hollywood, fuck a few girls, and just relax for a while. No
betting for a few weeks.”

I laughed aloud at that. I was willing to bet that Rachael would be
thinking twice about betting in the future, too – at least when it came to
things to get me motivated.

Suddenly, Rose and I were at the door, and she was ready to go.

“Well, I guess this is it,” I said.

“Next time you’re out visiting Rachael, drop me a line. I’d be happy to
hook up with you again ­ BOTH of you.”

I smiled, wondering briefly how exhausted I’d be after a threesome with
Rachael Leigh Cook and Rose McGowan would leave me.

“Count on it,” I said.

Then Rose leaned forward and kissed me gently on the cheek. Pulling back,
we locked eyes again. I marveled later that the basic need I had seen in
her eyes during that first blowjob the day before was now missing, as if
she’d found something to satisfy herself while she was here. I then figured
I had imagined it all in the first place.

Rose hadn’t pulled back much, and a sudden thought hit my brain. Grabbing
her head gently, I pulled her to me in a passionate kiss, the likes I
hadn’t shared with anyone but Rachael in quite some time. I felt Rose tense
in my grip, then melt into the embrace, returning the kiss as passionately
as she was getting, her hands finding me and pulling me deeper into her.

When we broke, she shot me a surprised look, and then shook her head.

“Give that to Rachael when you see her,” I said, smirking. Rose looked at
me for several seconds, then laughed aloud.

“You damn well better call me when you reach Hollywood, Carson-Boy,” she
called out to me as she headed for her rental car.

“That’s TRL, ‘Paige!’ And don’t you forget it!” I called out after her,
admiring the sexy sway of her ass as she left. I watched as she drove off,
waving goodbye until she was out of sight.

I sighed, wondering just what I had done in my life to bring women like
Rachael Leigh Cook and Rose McGowan into my life. Then I remembered that I
had to call Rachael and continue to patch up our relationship a bit more.

Shaking my head and laughing lightly as I headed back downstairs, I
realized just what it was that I had done to get the attention of these two
amazingly sexy women.

I quickly decided to send CSSA my latest story BEFORE calling Rachael.
After all, posting to CSSA had brought her into my life, posting again
might just help keep her IN my life.

This entry was posted in Cons, MF, Oral, TRL and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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