Celebs Meet CSSA #30: Mariah Carey

Continuing the series about what might happen if a

celebrity found this site (assuming it hasn’t already

happened). Unlike the other times I’ve written about

Mariah Carey (one of my personal favourites), this

DOES take place in a world where she made “Glitter,”

but while we all regret it happened (it only played in

one or two London cinemas for a week – I was on

holiday that week or I’d never have seen it on the big

screen, like most people), it’s necessary for this


Between my writing this story and my resubmitting it

[with a few grammatical errors tidied up] after the

Big Crash, Mariah Carey really did appear on “So

Graham Norton,” but not as shown here (obviously).

Apart from that it’s completely fictional – the show

doesn’t go out live, for a start – not intended for

under-18s, any comments can go either on the message

boards or directly to me at cindylover1969@yahoo.co.uk

– end of preliminaries…

* * * * * * * * * *

Mariah Carey was not alone when she found out about

the Celeb Sex Stories Archive. In fact, she had an

entire studio audience for company. Plus crew. And an

Irish TV presenter.

“You know,” Graham Norton told Mariah chirpily as he

turned to the computer next to him, “a lot of men

regard you as their muse… I’ll just tap the address

in here… have you ever heard of a site called CSSA?”

“Well, no,” the sexy singer admitted. “Is it some kind

of weird fetish thing?”

“Yes and no…” Graham continued as the Celeb Sex

Stories Archive site made its British TV debut. “It’s

all about fantasies about celebrities… I keep going

there to see if anyone’s sent it one about Miles


Mariah had boned up on Graham beforehand and was

tactful enough to not point out that it was for


“Well, let’s see what we have here…” he added as

Mariah brought herself closer to the monitor. “Oh

look, here we go… too bad there aren’t any


Graham and Mariah scanned the listing eagerly and

curiously (respectively). “My, you DO have your fans,

don’t you Mariah? ‘Sweet Sweet Fantasy Baby,’ ‘Hotel

Mariah,’ ‘I Masturbated With Mariah Carey,’ ‘All That


“‘Mariah Carey’s Cuntsucker’?” Mariah said, forgetting

for a moment she was on live TV. The audience

applauded the hearing of the C-word from a celeb’s

lips, even though this WAS Channel 4 late at night.

“How about reading an excerpt from one of them?”

Graham suggested, to the delight of the audience.

“Well… I don’t know,” Mariah replied. “I hear some

of these fans can get real freaky…”

“Oh, go on… if it works we might make it a regular

feature on the show…”

Mariah, throwing caution to the winds, faced the

audience. “What do you think, guys – should I do it?”

“YEAH!!!!!” exulted the audience.

“The people have spoken,” Graham laughed. “You can

choose which one you want to do, since you’re the


Mariah scanned the selections, stopping on “Dream

Weaver,” and printing it off, wondering what she had

let herself in for.

* * * * * * * * * *

Some hours later in her suite, Mariah rewound the tape

(she kept video recordings of all her TV appearances)

and watched herself in action again. No one would ever

accuse her of being a bad sport, true, but she was

beginning to regret it now. And what the gossip rags

would make of Mariah Carey reading stories about her

being shagged by fans on national television she could

only imagine.

On the other hand, she had had far worse stuff written

about her – folks still thought she had really said

that famine thing, the stench from “Glitter” was still

lingering, and the wreckage from her recent personal

problems wasn’t quite gone yet. Compared to all that,

a little porno reading was nothing. And what the hell,

at least it came from guys who liked her. She may have

been getting her career back on track, but she still

needed all the support she could get; you had to take

it where you could.

A small smile played around Mariah’s face. At least

she had gone further than some other singers – you

wouldn’t catch Madonna doing that on TV, no matter how

daring she thought she was. She pressed “play” again

and turned the sound up, making a note to visit CSSA

when she was back home (no Internet access from her

suite, dammit).

“‘…She climbed onto the bed again, positioned

herself over Jon’s tower and, spreading her cheeks,

slowly began to lower herself onto the cockhead. Her

aim was true; the puckery hole started to take in the

penis…'” It wouldn’t make “A Book At Bedtime” any

time soon, but Mariah had really thrown herself into

the live reading. It was true that she had had some

sex whenever she was down in Barbados, but not with a

guy in a wheelchair or anything. Mind you, she did

think the movie the author had postulated sounded a

hell of a lot better than the one she had made (and it

had even gotten released in America, unlike “Wise


Mariah tensed herself for the press about this. And

also wondered what the other stories were like.

* * * * * * * * * *

Safely back on American soil, Mariah finished the

first fan letters she had written in a very long time.

They weren’t to any rappers or singers, however; they

were to the authors of some of the stories. She’d

finally finished reading each one (except the

bestiality one and “The Rape of Mariah Carey,” for

obvious reasons), and had regretted that there weren’t

contact addresses for all of them; some of them were

quite good, and she had gotten a definite tingle from

her erotic exploits. Under the pseudonym she often

adopted when going online, she had asked the authors

to do another story about Mariah.

“Me and Jewel,” she laughed to herself as she sent the

e-mails out from her special Hotmail address. “Better

her than Celine Dion, anyway. At least Jewel’s got a

nice body… what am I saying? At least Jewel’s got a


Mariah checked her watch as the door buzzed. Yep, it

was about time for her appointment.

* * * * * * * * * *

“And will the ladies be having anything else?”

Mariah studied the menu, and shook her head. “No, I

think that’ll do for me. Are you having anything else,


Jackie, her companion for the evening, nodded. “Some

more steak for me, please. Same as before – double


“Indeed, ma’am,” said the waiter and left.

“Double portions?” Mariah laughed, as under the table

Jackie slowly removed her shoes. “Don’t you get

worried about your weight?”

“I work out a lot in my job,” the 40-something woman

assured the singer, wriggling her toes. Aaaahh, that

felt good. “Not as much as you do, I bet.”

Jackie’s foot found Mariah’s legs opposite. No

tights… that felt even better. Sheer nylon was all

very well, but nothing beat the feel of flesh. Jackie

began to move her foot up Mariah’s limbs, slowly

travelling upwards as the women continued to talk.

Mariah found it harder to concentrate, especially when

she looked at her companion. She wished she could see

under the table, see her companion’s foor stroking her

tender thighs as well as feeling it.

Jackie was chatting animatedly, beaming and

gesticulating as she gassed about her life to her

famous friend. Caual observers would never have

guessed that said famous friend was being foot-fucked

at the time; Jackie’s right leg was now extended, the

foot slowly playing with Mariah’s cunt. The singer let

her breath out in short, quick pants as Jackie clasped

her button between two toes and twirled it… Mariah

quickly gulped her drink before she could yell her

delight. But Jackie’s manipulation was not yet done.

She inserted her first two toes inside Mariah’s pussy

and spread them, and started to wiggle them inside.

Mariah slowly moved them back and forth as Jackie’s

other toes played with her bushy pussy hairs. All over

her snatch, Mariah felt herself getting warmer and

damper. This was the best wank she had ever had; she

wanted Jackie to fuck her all the way inside with her

foot. As if her mind was being read, Jackie brought

the toes together and started to work the foot into La

Carey’s tunnel.

“Aaaa…aaaaaAHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Mariah couldn’t hold it

back any longer, and found herself treating the

restaurant to an impromptu concert as Jackie sliced

her foot in and out of her companion’s cunt,

swivelling it back and forth as she fucked her.

Mariah’s notes distracted most of the diners, but they

also successfully disguised her orgasm…

* * * * * * * * * *

In the car park, Josephine “Jackie” Callas studied the

cheque Mariah had made out. “Is this for real?” she


“Like I told you the past four times, yes it is,”

Mariah assured her. “I did some research and all my

contacts told me you were the best. And I always pay

top rates for the best.”

Josephine nodded, and folded away the generous payment

inside her dress. “Nice doing business with you. Same

time next week?”

“Same time,” Mariah agreed, shaking hands with the

wealthy escort agency owner. It was a tough call as to

who was more disoriented – Mariah for actually having

gone through with it, or Jacqueline for agreeing to

handle the request of her biggest client. The day

Mariah Carey had summoned her, presented her with a

folder containing most of the stories about her on

CSSA and requested her help in acting them out one by

one, Mrs. Callas (you heard me – she was a married

woman) had gone through a variety of emotions; she was

on the verge of telling the crackpot to take her sick

fantasies elsewhere, until Mariah mentioned a figure

containing just the right number of zeroes.

For Mariah, of course, there was another reason – she

needed something to take her mind off how shitty her

personal life was. Work was all very well, but she

hadn’t got a man in her life now that Luis was gone.

This little game of hers was a way out.

* * * * * * * * * *

Scott Murphy stepped into the lift and pressed the

button for the floor that his client was on. She was a

picky one, but his boss had assured her that she would

make it worth their while… “No complaints yet, and

I’d really like you not to be the first.”

Scott was a good boy who did what he was told, but he

did feel kind of silly hefting this medallion. Still,

the customer was always right…

“Friday Night Is Music Night” on Radio 2 in the UK.

For Mariah Carey, Friday Night was CSSA Night. Tonight

she’d be doing the Hypno Celeb one; Mariah had happy

memories of how the previous week’s one had gone –

doing men in uniform had done her a world of good.

Memories of erect penises danced in her head as she

answered the door. Before she could say anything

“Rick,” the man at the bell, instantly dangled an

amulet in front of her face…

“So,” he said to her as they snuggled together

afterwards, “perhaps you could see about including me

on tour?”

“Well, I could use an assistant,” she told him, her

mind still on how his tool had filled her up. Man, he

could come… how long would he have to rest before he

could perform again? “If you call my people in the

morning, we’ll get the ball rolling. Looking forward

to seeing you again, ‘Rick.'”

“Same here,” he replied, as they settled back. The

deal was that he would spend the night and leave in

the morning several hundred dollars richer, before

they went on to the next fantasy. Mariah had enjoyed

this one a lot; the showering, the fucking, the works.

She had even liked the guy as well; the other people

she’d played with so far were performance artists.

Good ones, but performance artists nonetheless. But

this one…

In each performance they had used the names of their

counterparts in the stories, and Mariah had had no

trouble in referring to them as such. The thing was,

when “Rick” had been soaping her ass in the shower and

drilling her on the bed he felt so good, and she felt

so happy, she had nearly called him Scott.

“Scott?” she asked the male prostitute, moving in

closer. “Scott?”

Dammit. He was asleep already. Just like a man; even

when you paid them for it – go figure. Mariah shook

her head, and rested her head against the lad. He

certainly had the body for it – plus he was tanned and

with great black hair and eyes, and topped it all off

with… the singer’s eyes drifted down to Scott’s

cock. Unlike most of the men she had been with, he was

pretty well hung; not quite the size of Norman

Mailer’s ego, but still a big one.

Mariah checked to see that Scott was sleeping, then

clasped the penis in her hands. “A little bonus for

you, kid,” she whispered, and licked the peeping pink

cockhead. She was pleased that he wasn’t cut; there

was something about playing with the foreskin that she

liked. Peeling back as much of it as she could, she

delicately blew on it, and ran her tongue on the tiny

hole at the tip before slowly starting to swallow. She

lowered her lovely head onto the shaft, trying to get

as much of the prick inside the mouth as she could.

The experienced singer sucked on Scott’s cock with

greater speed and energy, working him with her fingers

as she did her best to turn him on. Whatever it was he

was dreaming about, it couldn’t be as good as this.

She stroked him as her tongue and lips moved back and

forth along his rod. Oh God, his body was beautiful…

Scott started to move around in his sleep, disturbed

less by what was happening in his head than what was

happening out of it, as Mariah waited for him to come

down her throat. She gulped and grunted as she felt

Scott’s cock start to jerk, and she received a thick,

creamy bonus in her mouth…

* * * * * * * * * *

Scott rechecked his account. There was no denying it;

he had received double what his fee usually was. He

had received tips for sure before, but never 100%. He

knew he was good, but he didn’t think he’d been that


He almost wanted to see her again; he had remembered

how happy she had looked to be with him, as if she was

truly pleased to be with someone for a change. He had

thought she’d be used to picking up guys on a whim.

Maybe she wasn’t just playing a game after all, the

way Miss Callas had said she was.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mariah emerged from the studio with smiles and

high-fives all round. The session had gone great, and

now she and some of her colleagues were off to get a

well-deserved drink, and talk about what they would be

up to that night.

“Well,” Mariah said, leading off the chat over their

drinks, “I was thinking that you guys could come over

to my place after the game. Sort of let off steam when

your team loses.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen!” one of her buddies cackled.

“We haven’t lost a match yet, and there’s no way the

Loserville Losers are going to end our streak…”

“Wanna bet on that?” asked a “Losers” supporter, as

Mariah’s mobile went off.

“Hang on, let me get this… hello?” She listened, and

nodded. “I’ve got to go and meet someone… important

appointment. Can’t wait. Be back in a few minutes –

but see you at my place after the game!”

“I’ll bring the beers for him to cry into,” the first

speaker laughed as Mariah took her leave, excited at

what this week’s rendezvous held. She hoped it would

be Scott again – he was all booked up, but after she

had given him his extra the lad might be willing to

make an exception…

As the singer stepped into the lift of her apartment

building, she couldn’t help noticing there was only

one other person in there – a woman in her mid-20s.

Blonde, well-built, thick glasses, who nodded at

Mariah as she stepped in and pressed the button for

her floor.

“Nice to see you got my message,” the blonde told

Mariah casually.

“You’re the one?” Mariah asked in surprise, her mind

racing through the CSSA stories to see which ones had

her with a woman. There was one with Madonna, but…

and why hadn’t she waited until Mariah was at home?

The lift shuddered to a halt. The woman had thumped

the “STOP” button, and then she whirled around and

pinned a suddenly frightened Mariah to the wall of the


“Remember Part 2?”

“Of what?” Mariah asked in fear.

“Of ‘The Rape Of Mariah Carey,'” the blonde told her,

and reached for Mariah’s dress…

* * * * * * * * * *

“Send her right in,” Josephine said, wondering what

Mariah wanted to talk to her about but always willing

to make time for her biggest client.

The Mariah that entered her office in a rage was a far

cry from the usually cheerful woman; her hair was in

disarray, her clothes torn, and her eyes were crimson

as if she had been weeping. They were also furious.

Josephine knew in a second what had happened.

“I thought we had a deal, Callas!” Mariah yelled loud

enough for everyone in the office to hear. “We agreed

we would NOT do the rape stories! Do you know how

close that bitch came to – ”

“Um… actually, we never had any such agreement,”

Josephine interrupted.

“What in the name of God are you talking about?”

Mariah argued, pushing herself practically into

Josephine’s face. “I showed you the ones I wanted you

to do – I’m surprised you didn’t have one of your guys

come up to me on the beach and buttfuck me!”

Josephine opened up her desk drawer, took out the

folder with the stories Mariah had printed off, and

opened it. Inside, along with the stories, was the

contract the two women had signed. “Re-read it,

dearie,” she suggested, handing the paper to Mariah.

The singer scanned the contract. “…do hereby agree

to enact all the stories about Mariah Carey featured

on Celebrity Sex Stories Archive, until such time as

the stories as indicated have been completed…” She

could have killed herself on the spot. Why hadn’t she

read the thing more closely? Stunned and soiled, she

handed the contract back to Madame Callas in silence.

“Can’t wait to do the one with that creature,”

Josephine chuckled. “I’d love to see you get out of

it; you’ve had a lot of bad press recently. Of course,

you could go to the police and press charges, but you

can’t do that without this whole business coming out.”

Mariah seethed, but she knew Josephine was right.

“There is something else I can do,” she said coldly.

“Let me see that again…”

Josephine handed her the contract again, and watched

impassively as Mariah began to tear it up. “We’re


“You don’t really think I don’t have copies, do you?”

Josephine asked. “I can sue you for backing out, and

you’ll be screwed anyway. Of course, there IS a way



“Someone’s doing a series of stories about a brothel

staffed by celebrities. Including you. You work for me

for one night, privately, and we’ll forget the whole

thing. Anything I tell you to do, you do. If I want

you to spread those fine legs, you spread them. If I

want you to open up that big juicy ass, you open it.

You be my slave, and you’re free.”

“And if I don’t?”

Josephine laughed. “Oh come on, Mariah… you know

what’ll happen.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When she checked the emails for butterfly@hotmail.com

a week later, there was a hefty one waiting from

B-Boy. Subject: Meeting Mariah.

In the story that made up the message, B-Boy

fantasised about being in a lift with Mariah, only

this time there were other people. Men and women, and

it was a slow journey. The following is a brief precis

of the full message:

“I’m standing behind Mariah. She’s wearing a dress cut

off just above her knees, and a lovely white top. Her

proud behind is jutting out just above my groin. ‘Do

you like the view?’ she whispers to me; she knows I’m

checking her out. And she likes it!

“I saw her come into the lift and there was just

enough breastage on view to get me excited; not enough

to be slutty, but enough. I start to play with her

hair, as the other passengers in the lift pretend not

to notice. Mariah slowly lifts up the back of her

dress, and gives me and anyone else lucky enough to be

in the line of vision a peek. She’s not wearing

anything underneath – I stare at her perfectly shaped

cheeks. She lets the dress drop, but not before my

fingers have rested on the rump. I start to caress her

ass, and I can hear Mariah murmur in satisfaction.

‘Mmmm, yes, that’s nice…’ as the other passengers

continue to try and ignore what’s going on.

“Mariah moves backwards, pressing her hot ass into my

crotch. My dick is so hard I’m resisting the urge to

yell, and it’s getting harder and harder – both the

cock and my resistance. She starts to grind her

asscheeks around my crotch. ‘Why is this thing so

slow?’ one passenger, sneaking peeks at what we’re

doing, asks.

“She takes a free hand, and works it into her soaking

cunt. She’s warm and damp there; I’m about to play

around there when she turns to look at me for the

first time and shakes her head. ‘Use it back there,’

she tells me, and winks. My eyes and mouth widen at

what she means. Quickly I take my damp fingers and rub

them into Mariah’s anus, widening and oiling it up;

and we move to the farthest corner of the lift. Mariah

again lifts up her dress as I let my erection out of

the prison of its trousers, and slowly slip it inside

her waiting ring. I watch as her gaping asshole

gradually accommodates my cock, and listen as Mariah

urges me on…

“By now the others in the lift have abandoned any

pretence, and they’re watching the two of us in

action. The lift doors open, and soon we have more of

an audience. But I don’t care. All I care about is

sexy, horny Mariah Carey and her sweet, sweet ass

making me come…”

To: B-Boy

Subject: Thanks a lot!


Mariah Carey is sexy and horny all right… and I

can’t argue about the “sweet, sweet ass” either. I’ve

studied it many a night myself.

We’ve been talking about her online enough… how

about we arrange a little meeting in the real world

and discuss her further?

You can pick the time and place; I’m easy.


* * * * * * * * * *

While B-Boy was reading the message above, Mariah was

on the way to her assignation of the evening. She

would be meeting her man at his house; she was

surprised to find he was living in a suburban street.

Just a regular house; considering the prices Callas

charged, she would have thought she’d had had to go to

the most expensive part of town. But then again it was

amazing the lengths people would go for something they

really wanted.

Mariah buzzed twice in succession at the door of No.

34, as she’d been instructed, and crossed her fingers.

She was greeted by a short man in his mid-40s, a

little thin on the top, but at least he wasn’t a

fatgut or a slob. And he looked very happy to see her.

“Right on time! Come in, come in…”

Ben surveyed the tall singer as she entered.

“Amazing… just as advertised.”


“Oh yes, didn’t she tell you? I asked if they could

supply someone like Mariah Carey, but I didn’t think

she could come up with someone like… you.” He shook

his head, impressed. Uncanny.

Mariah nodded her thanks. “So…do you want to – ”

She got no further; Ben leaped onto her and started to

grab and kiss her as if he hadn’t had a woman in

years. (And he hadn’t.) Mariah was flustered for a

second, and then gently pushed him away. “Wait a


“I don’t want to wait!” Ben panted. “I’m paying for

this, and what I say goes…”

“Come on, you want someone like Mariah Carey right?

Well, you know how you’re always hearing how Mariah’s

this bitchy half-mad diva, right? The real Mariah

would want you to hang around and wait until she’s

good and ready,” she suggested.

“That’s not the real Mariah. I know the real Mariah –

always hot for it, willing to do ANYTHING to please

her man,” Ben retorted. “Loving to fuck, showing off

the goods all day and all night… and like I told

you, it’s my money.” He paused for a bit, as he saw

the expression in her eyes.

“Look, it’s been a long time since I’ve been with

someone… I just want one night with a woman. Can you

blame me if I want it to go the way I want for once?”

Mariah studied Ben for a moment, and shook her head.

“No, I guess not…” She took her head in his hands,

bent forward and kissed him. “Do you want to do it

here or in your bed?”

“Let ’em peek,” Ben told her, and started to undress

as Mariah stood and stepped back. “I’ve got all of

your – I mean, her records. Do you think I could play

one while you…”

Mariah soon heard the strains of “Fantasy” filling

Ben’s living room as she stood on his table,

lipsyncing to the song while she kept her eyes on him;

she slowly started to unbutton her shirt, moving in

perfect time to the music. Ben’s eyes were travelling

up and down as she danced, moving her hips in

surprising precision to “Sweet sweet fantasy baby” and

flinging the shirt away, gradually discarding her bra,

and turning to spend the second verse gyrating in

front of him, bending and straightening her legs,

lowering her crotch tantalizingly close to his face

before withdrawing it as she slowly lowered her skirt.

Mariah occasionally did stripteases for her sex

partners; she joked that she had to practice in case

she needed something to fall back on.

Now only her silk panties were left for Ben, who was

itching to clutch them; Mariah hooked her thumbs under

the fabrice, and with her back to him slipped it down.

She smiled to herself as she heard his gasp at the

sight of her cheeks; she stepped out of the panties,

tossed them to the floor and let him see her bare

front. Mariah’s full, luscious breasts were waiting

for him, with a well-trimmed snatch between her legs.

She was beautiful, and she was all his. Ben ran his

hands up her long, smooth legs in wonder, his eyes

fixed on her face.

“I can’t wait for bed,” he said quietly, and clutching

her thighs, he opened his mouth and began to taste

Mariah’s tender box right on the table, as the next

track began. Mariah peacefully stroked his balding

head as she felt his mouth kiss and lick her opening;

she was loving it. Not the best she’d ever had, but at

least he was taking his time… he wanted to savour

this night. She felt his hands cupping her backside,

groping and stroking as he mumbled into her pubes.

With his fingers probing her flesh, and Ben starting

to move up her body, she started to wonder if this was

so bad. She was enjoying it, and she was getting paid

for it, and she was giving him pleasure… was this

really such a bad way to be?

Ben was by now moving his head back and forth between

her breasts as she stroked him, moving lightly all

over his body. He felt his heart race faster when she

found his prick; for the first time in years someone

other than himself started to play with it. Even if

this wasn’t the real Mariah, he thought to himself as

he folded her into his arms, this was worth it…

* * * * * * * * * *

Ben was the first man Mariah made happy for Josephine,

but he wasn’t the last.

If only they could all have been like that.

Like the night she had been contracted to spend with

another customer – Josephine had intentionally placed

Mariah on her books as an uncanny lookalike,

speculating that she might get work from people eager

to fuck a celeb. (She was right.) But the motives of

the people who chose her weren’t always the highest.

Mariah had gone to meet Mr. and Mrs. Howell a week

later; like a lot of Josephine’s clients, they were

wealthy and discreet. They were also quite happy to

swap bed-partners, and seemed quite interested in the

stories Mariah told about “herself.” Miss Carey in

return found the Howells quite easy to get along with,

and as they returned to the house, she thought this

was going to be a good gig.

“Okay,” Mr. Howell said cheerfully, “now the way we

usually do things is we kick back, watch the late

night shows and then up to bed. You can join us if

you’d like, or would you rather we cut to the chase?”

“You’re asking me?” Mariah asked, surprised but happy.

“But you’re the customer.”

“We’re only happy if you’re happy,” Mrs. Howell

assured her.

“Well, I’m here to serve you,” Mariah told them.

“Excellent,” Mr. Howell beamed, rubbing his hands.

“Chrissie darling, I think we can begin.”

Chrissie instantly began to undress, with Mariah

looking on and smiling appreciatively. The Howells

were in their 50s, and were fit with it. “You look

great,” the singer said, and found a finger wagging in

her face from Mrs. Howell.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she laughed. “Not a sound from you until

we’re finished. And get the clothes off; my husband

works hard for moments like this.” Indeed, Mariah

could feel his eyes on her all the way as she

disrobed, feeling not really embarrassed but slightly


“Now, you have to understand that Chrissie has always

wanted to do a few things to Mariah Carey; nothing

permanent you understand – she just wants her to

understand that she’s never going to replace Miss


The penny began its long plunge to the bottom of the

abyss of Mariah’s mind as she saw Mrs. Howell put on a

Diana Ross mask, and indicate that Mariah go on her

knees. Not saying a word, she did – and she soon found

her face filled with Mrs. Howell’s trimmed crotch.

Mariah looked at Mr. Howell.

“I’ve always wanted to watch Mariah be fucked by all

the other divas… Diana, Whitney, Aretha, even Celine

Dion. And finally my own dear wife. The night is long,

and I’m sure you’ll love it. Go on…”

Mariah started to lick “Diana’s” cunt; years of

fucking had left it loose, but it didn’t taste too

bad. At least she wasn’t dry below. Mariah’s

enthusiasm started to rise as she heard Mrs. Howell

start to babble on about her unquestionable greatness,

in accordance with Diana Ross’s notoriously large ego.

She let her tongue play with her customer’s box,

thanking the stars she wasn’t really going down on

Miss Ross. Mrs. Howell wasn’t nearly as scrawny for a


“Give it to me like I deSERRRVE!!” Mrs. H commanded,

and Mariah put herself into it harder, stroking her

customer’s legs and licking her lips – her pussy lips,

that is. Mrs. Howell bent forward and cupped one of

Mariah’s heavy tits. “No pasties… good. A lot better

than Li’l Kim any day. When you’ve finished…” She

stopped talking, as she felt the tingling that had

started when the sexy Miss Carey had put her tongue to

work began to reach its peak. “…when you’ve

finished… I… want… to… suckon… those…



Mrs. Howell felt the waves of joy crashing through her

body as Mariah’s mouth finished her off; without

waiting for breath she dragged Mariah up, and grabbed

her lover’s breasts. Greedily she slurped on Mariah’s

nipples and squeezed the flesh, moulding and kneading

them in joy. Mrs. Howell sank her teeth into Mariah’s

right breast, and sucked hard.

“You’re gorgeous, and you’re mine. Right, baby?” she

asked. Mariah nodded.

“Good; come on up with me. In a few moments I’m going

to give my husband a treat – you’re going to fuck him

while I watch… but first, we’re going to share you.

Just to remind you who’s the boss. Ready, Neil?”

She nodded to Mr. Howell, who was standing behind

Mariah, with something gleaming on his arm. Mariah

studied it for a moment before realising it was

Vaseline. His arm was covered in it, all the way up to

the elbow. Mrs. Howell’s fist was clenched, and Mariah

wished she could say something… but a job was a job.

“And I’ve got a treat for you – you can talk now… as

long as you say precisely what I tell you to say.

Anything apart from ‘Yes, Miss Ross’ and we do this

again, okay?” Mrs. Howell asked, still smiling.

“Yes, Miss Ross,” Mariah replied.

“Oh, put some enthusiasm into it.”

“Yes, Miss Ross!”

Mrs. Howell’s fist started to open up Mariah’s pussy,

while behind her our heroine felt her ass widening

with her husband’s arm. Jeez Louise, it hurt… and he

was twisting his arm around so it felt like she was

trying to get the world’s biggest corkscrew in there.

Mariah wanted to howl, but all she could do was take


“This is great, isn’t it?” Mrs. Howell asked.

“Yes, Miss Ross!” Mariah agreed, and noticed her

customer’s hand was all the way inside her cunt.

“You love being fucked by Diana Ross, don’t you?”


“And you love her man coring your butt, don’t you?”

Trying not to scream with Mr. Howell’s fist and

forearm slowly stretching her asshole to its limits,

Mariah shouted “YES, MISS ROSS!”

“And no one fucks better than Diana Ross, right?!”

“YES, MISS ROSS!” Mariah screamed in what her

customers took for ecstasy, as they started pulling

their arms back and forth, pounding the insides of her

entrances, and listening to Mariah Carey shout “YES,


over and over.

She counted the seconds until the arms left her gaping

anus and snatch.

* * * * * * * * * *

Even the money wasn’t worth it; Mariah only had to

serve Josephine once a week, but the cut she took was

shocking. Mariah had been about to argue about her

only getting to keep 5%, but Miss Callas had just said

the word “CSSA,” and she played along. The singer had

found herself cursing the site – it had been fun at

first, but now it was just one more problem in her

already problem-filled life.

No, wait… it wasn’t the site’s fault. It wasn’t her

fault either. It was Josephine’s. The slag was playing

her along and there wasn’t anything she could do about

it. Mariah couldn’t even contact Scott on account of

their being employees. She grabbed a bottle of water

from her fridge and slugged the contents down her

throat in frustration.

Then she had a brainwave. She couldn’t call out Scott,

but she did have a friend who could…

* * * * * * * * * *

The deal was that Scott would come to the hotel at

around seven and meet Bianca by a phone booth, and

then… who knows? He was a little cross that the job

was all the way on the other side of the city, but on

the other hand she wasn’t the first woman he’d been

with who’d wanted to keep certain close acquaintances

from not having a chance of spotting them.

Scott arrived in the lobby at five to seven, and

casually looked around for a booth. Yep, there it was

– and there she was. Dark glasses, and a red rose

pinned to her coat. Bianca, like she said. “Once more

unto the breach,” he said to himself, and strolled

over to the woman.

“Bianca…?” he asked, as the woman looked at him from

under her glasses.


“Not who you were expecting, huh?” the warbler

laughed. “I thought ‘Bianca’ should come out of

retirement for one night only.”

“Then who was that on the phone?” asked Scott. “Callas

said I was meeting this Italian woman…”

“Did she speak something like this?” Mariah asked, in

a thick Italian accent. Scott shook his head, but any

displeasure at being tricked was wiped out by his

happiness at seeing her again. The two employees made

their way towards the lift, each counting the seconds

until they were alone.

“Why didn’t you call before?” Scott wondered when they

arrived, and immediately began undressing.

“Can you keep a secret? What am I saying – of course

you can. Your boss got me working for her…”

“You’re kidding. I mean, you’ve certainly got the body

and the talent for the job…”

“Thank you. But I didn’t really have the choice; she

made me do it, otherwise she’d blab about this whole

CSSA thing.” She then explained to Scott about the

fracas that had led to it, adding “It was in that

contract she gave me.”

“Are you sure? You did read it through, right?”

Mariah nodded. “I’ve got a Xerox of my copy here –

she’s got the original, but I made a copy of it the

day it was done.” She always carried it with her, as a

reminder of the state she was in. “See… it says

right here. ‘We, the undersigned, do hereby agree to

enact all the stories about Mariah Carey featured on

Celebrity Sex Stories Archive unless otherwise

directed, until such time as the stories…’ Oh my

dear sweet Lord.”

“What is it?” Scott asked.

“Unless otherwise directed.” Mariah remembered the

contract she’d seen in Josephine’s office – she had

been forced to read it through at least three times,

but this was the first time she had been able to

mentally compare the two. The words “unless otherwise

directed” hadn’t been in the copy Josephine had… but

they had been in the original one. “Oh baby Jesus –

that Callas suckered me!”

* * * * * * * * * *

Josephine studied Mariah’s photocopy of the original

contract. “Don’t try and play me for a fool, Carey,”

she told her. “Trying to pass this off as the real


“It’s the other way around and you know it,” Mariah

retorted. “I think if I took this (pointing to the

contract) to an expert he’d finger this signature of

mine as more fake than your lips. Of course, if it IS

the real thing you’ll have nothing to worry about, so

if you’ll just hand it over we can get this sorted out

by the evening.”

Josephine shook her head.

“What’s the matter?” Mariah taunted. “Afraid your

little game’ll come out?”

“What do you want?” Miss Callas asked sullenly.

“First, I want out of this. Second, Scott Murphy.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Scott had also been chafing under Josephine’s control;

he was good, and he knew it. He certainly wanted a

higher take for himself, but he also wanted a bit more

freedom than the Iron Lady was willing to give. Until

Mariah had come along, he was beginning to wonder if

he’d ever manage to break out – Josephine had

indicated that she could make life very difficult for

him if he suddenly decided to quit. But now there he

was, liberated like the slave he had been. Lying in

bed with Mariah, he could finally put his grand plan

into action.

“And how many guys do you know who’ve got an

interest?” Mariah asked, fondling his chest.

“Quite a few,” Scott answered, stroking her back.

“It’ll probably be a collective thing – everyone

working for the good of the company and all that.”

“And I thought romantic prostitutes were only in the

movies,” Mariah smiled.

“Come on, I’ve got a better body than Julia Roberts

and you know it,” Scott told her.

“Smaller teeth too.” Mariah kissed Scott’s chest. “You

know, I could throw some business your way. Most of us

have to use guys like you. And we could spread the


“Believe me, you’ve already helped enough by getting

me out of there. I should be thanking you.”

“You wanna thank me?” Mariah asked, a knowing grin on

her face. “You’ve got everything you need for that

right about…” And her fingers closed around a

dangling part of Scott, who returned the grin.

“Well, how about each time you and I get together it’s

on the house? I don’t want it to seem like a business

deal when we’re together,” he continued, his hands

caressing the singer’s body. She was so full and

sexy… for all the bad press she got, he wouldn’t

trade her for a dozen Ashantis.

“I checked out that site today,” Scott continued, as

she climbed onto him, relishing the way his cock and

her cunt meshed together. “I can’t believe someone

actually sat down and wrote a story about how he was

your official cuntsucker.”

“Yeah, that is weird,” Mariah laughed, as she levered

herself forward. “That’s YOUR job.”

It was too bad that most of those stories didn’t leave

something to the imagination, Mariah thought as Scott

took her in his arms. She could imagine a CSSA story

going into great detail about what was about to

happen, instead of just letting the reader picture it

for themselves…

* * * * * * * * * *

To: Butterfly

Subject: Meeting place

Hi Butterfly,

I’ve finally taken the plunge and decided it’s time we

met; how about this Friday night? I can’t think of a

better way to start the weekend than with another

Mariah fanatic.

I’ll be waiting outside Tower Records at (a central

location of the city), 8pm. Dark jumper, blue jeans,

and the new copy of “Blender.” Don’t tell me what

you’ll be wearing; I want it to be a surprise.


“Oh, it will be a surprise,” Mariah laughed as she

read the message. “Count on it.”

She pressed “Reply” and began to write.

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