Celebs Meet CSSA #9: Racheal Leigh Cook

[Ed. Note – Author TRL is confronted one day by Racheal Leigh Cook, who has mysteriously visited CSSA and tracked him down, requesting to have a story written about her. The following is what happens when that takes place. This continues the “celebs find CSSA” storyline, as this is part 9 in the series. Enjoy! – Carnage Jackson ]

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 lesbian sex.
If you are under 18, you shouldn’t be here anyway. If you’re opposed to lesbian
sex, you’re missing out on some of the sexiest stuff in the world. This story is
not meant to reflect honestly on anyone who appears in it. Rachael Leigh Cook,
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: Rachael Leigh Cook
By: TRL

“I’m still not sure on what it is you want me to do,” I said as I sat down at
my computer. Quite frankly, I’d never even dreamed a situation like this would
be possible. And yet here I was, and I wasn’t going to question any of it –
except for what I was supposed to do.

“You write stories. Sex stories. I want you to write one about me.”

“Right, I kinda got that part,” I said. “But what kind of story are you looking
for?”

“A good one,” she said.

I sighed. Somehow, this wasn’t how I imagined her to be like. But, then again,
I’d never imagined her showing up on my doorstep and demanding I write an erotic
story about her.

“Can we take this from the top,” I asked.

She sighed, and I found myself staring at her breasts as they heaved.

Of course, any man who wouldn’t be staring at Rachael Leigh Cook’s breasts in a
situation like this was probably gay. I still couldn’t believe she was here, in
my house, talking with me about writing Sex Stories.

Rachael was one of my biggest fantasy girls, right up there with Britney Spears,
Natalie Portman, and Jodi Ann Paterson (PMOY for the year 2000). I couldn’t
count the number of fantasies I’d had about Rachael and I making love to each
other.

Rachael had dark hair, short a straight, though she often dyed it different
colors. She looked good in black, brown, and red, and blonde wasn’t horrible on
her – though I thought she should stick to darker colors. They flattered her
face better. She was short, compact, and about a sexy as they came. Her eyes
were little pools of seduction, and her breasts were about as pert as natural
tits came. Considering I’d always had a thing for shorter women with dark hair,
Rachael was a natural choice for my lusts.

“A couple of weeks ago,” Rachael was saying “I got a call from my a friend of
mine saying there were stories about me having sex on the Internet.
Specifically, she pointed out a site called CSSA. She had looked through a lot
of the stories posted there, and wondered how I felt. At first, I was insulted,
then I looked at it, and to make a long story short, I ended up having some
‘self love’ while I was reading one of your stories.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “Which one?”

“Part of your Faith Hill series,” she said. “But all of yours are fairly good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said. “But why do you want another story about you?”

“I kinda helped Katie Holmes work up a story for herself, and realized that I
wanted one, too.”

“Why didn’t you write it?”

“I didn’t want it to be MY fantasy about myself. I want it to be a man’s
fantasy about me. Something sweetly erotic and yet nasty at the same time.”

“Nasty?” I said.

“Hey, I’m not just a good girl, you know,” Rachael said, smiling. Somehow, I
had a hard time believing her.

“Okay,” I said. “So, why track me down? I haven’t written any stories about
you, so I haven’t done anything wrong-“

“But you’ve written other stories about other celebs,” she said, cutting me
off. “Vitamin C. Faith Hill. The Dixie Chicks. Heck, you seem to have a thing
for singers. You even won an award for your Britney Spears story.”

“I wouldn’t call it an award, and I came in second,” I said before I stopped
myself. “That’s beside the point.”

“What point? I’m here telling you that I want you to write a story about me. I
want you to do it the way you do your better stories. The ones with the details
and the emotions. The ones where the girls are scared at first, but when they
get into it, it’s heavenly.”

“Uh, right,” I said, my mind still reeling. “Uh, you do realize that most of my
stories involve lesbians, right?” I asked.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “But you’ve included men before, too.”

“Well, yeah, but-“

“I know, you do better work with women,” she said. Suddenly, a strange look
came over her face. “Why is that? Did you have a crush on a lesbian or
something, or do men just turn you off sexually?”

“A little of both,” I admitted, then stopped myself. “Seriously, now, why come
here in person. At the most, you could have emailed me and told me what you
wanted.”

“Would you have believed I was really me?”

“No,” I answered after a half-second’s thought. “But I might still have written
the story.”

“Not good enough,” she said. “I want you to write a story about me, and I want
to know that your thinking about me turns you on. I want to know that you’re all
hot, sweaty, and stroking yourself while you write about my body.”

“Actually, I usually have my pants on when I write,” I said. “I’m a two handed
typer.”

“Whatever,” she said. “You do get turned on, though, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the whole point of writing erotic stories. To get your
fantasies out and occasionally share them with others.”

“And to get off, right?”

“Yes, but I usually wait a little while before I get off to my own stories. I
like to give myself a few days to forget the details before I start to jerk-“

I stopped myself dead, realizing who I was talking to and what I was talking
about.

“This is never going to work,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I can’t write with you staring at me. I don’t work well like that.”

“What if I turn my back?” she asked.

“That’s not the point. Just you being here is a distraction. I usually write by
myself, ESPECIALLY these kinds of stories.”

“Really?” She said. “What if I went into another room for a while?”

“Uh,” I started to say.

“Great,” she got up, came over to me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. As I
leaned back in my chair, shocked, she gave me another jolt by lifting up her top
and flashing her perky tits at me.

“That’s for inspiration,” she said. Before I could say another word, she headed
upstairs and left me alone. It was probably about five or six minutes before I
managed to force the memory of her perfect breasts out of my head enough to
start writing.

* * *

I didn’t get far. A half hour later, I found her in my kitchen, eating an apple
and reading the local paper.

“Do you guys have a Hollywood section in this thing?” she asked.

“Not really. We’re a long way from Hollywood.”

“You’re telling me. So, finish my story yet?” She asked, standing up.

“Uh, no,” I said honestly. “I’m a little stuck.”

“Listen, if you’re up here hoping to get some more ‘inspiration,’ you’re just
going to have to wait.”

“No, that’s not it,” I answered quickly. I was a pervert, but I wasn’t a BIG
pervert. I just wrote stories, collected fake images of certain celebs, and
masturbated regularly. I didn’t stalk children, I didn’t rape women, and I
didn’t have anything to do with animals. And I certainly wasn’t up here looking
to take advantage of a movie star. Not that I wouldn’t have given my left arm to
sleep with Rachael Leigh Cook, but I wasn’t going to do it like some geek who
hadn’t gotten laid in a few years. After all, I HAD gotten laid about a month
ago right before I broke up with my last girlfriend.

“What’s the problem then?” she asked.

“Well, I guess I don’t know what kind of story you’re really looking for.”

“A sex story. Wasn’t that clear?”

“Yes, it was, but I’m looking more towards what kind of details you want. I
mean, do you want to fuck a guy or a girl. Do you want the sex to be romantic,
scary, or just plain fuc… er, screwing?”

“You can say fucking around me.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I replied. “I guess I need to know some things before I
really start writing.”

“Okay,” Racahel said. “Let’s hop down to the computer and I’ll tell you what I
like.”

We headed back downstairs and we sat down again. She looked at me for a moment,
and for just that instant, I thought maybe she was going to flash me again. It
was something in her smile, something mischievous. But instead she grabbed a
handful of pretzels and waited for me to say something.

“Okay, uh, I guess we should start with what kind of story do you want it to be
– and I don’t mean just a sex story,” I added quickly.

“All right. Well, I guess I’d like it to be kind of dangerous, but in a
romantic way. I don’t want to be raped. There are an awful lot of rape stories
on that CSSA site, and in two of the handful of stories I have, I get raped,
both times by animals or beasts of some kind. I’m not into that.”

“That’s all right. I have a hard time writing rape stories anyway.”

“You wrote one about Tara Reid,” she pointed out.

“That’s right, and I never finished it. I just couldn’t work my way around what
I had originally thought the ending should be.”

“Yeah?” She said. “Is that why you haven’t got any stories in the recent
updates section lately?”

“You could say that,” I replied, a little shocked that she knew so much about
my erotic writing. I honestly didn’t think anyone was paying attention. “I guess
for a while, I just got tired of doing sex stories after that. I have most of a
Willa Ford story written, I just haven’t finished it. I also have plans for a
Shannon Elizabeth story and a story with most of the girls from American Pie 2.”

“That was a funny movie,” she said.

“I never saw it. Haven’t even seen the first one all the way through.”

“Really? Did you watch the Nadia part at least?” she asked.

“Of course. I was still in college when that hit DVD. I think the guys in the
suite had that section running 24/7.”

“Do you think I should do a nude scene?” she asked, sounding for all the world
like the topic ranked right up there with what the chance of rain tomorrow might
be.

“I don’t know.” I admitted, surprising myself in how I was able to get past the
question without my jaw falling right off. “I know I’d watch it, but I think
you’re doing just fine on your own. I think I’d rather see you take off your
clothes for Playboy before you did a nude scene in a movie. It may be just my
opinion, but it seems classier that way.”

“Don’t expect it any time soon,” she chuckled.

“Back to the story. Do you want a guy or a girl to sleep with you?”

“A guy. I’ve had both men and women, but I’m straight – mostly. I think. Yes.
Maybe.”

“Forget I asked,” I said. “A little confused sexually are we?”

“No,” she shot back. “I like men. I just happen to find some women attractive,
too. And occasionally, I sleep with them. But I really like men.”

“So you want just a guy for this story then?” I asked.

“Yes. Just one guy.”

“Any particular guy or just anyone?”

She looked at me for a moment before smiling. “Make it you.”

“Nope,” I said instantly. “I never write about myself. Occasionally I’ll use my
name for a character until I can create the right name for him, but I never
write about myself.”

“You don’t have to name yourself,” she said. “But I want it to be you. You and
me, having sex together.”

I sighed. “All right. How do we meet?”

“Accidentally,” she said, looking past me now. “Maybe we’re both on a deserted
island or something. Or our planes have been stuck in a city with a snow storm
and we’re stuck in the same hotel over night.”

I thought for a second. “What about camping?” I said suddenly, looking at one
of the sleeping bags hanging from the rafters in my basement.

“Do you camp?” She asked.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t camp we can just pretend we
do.”

“Cool. Maybe we got lost from the rest of the group and were forced to spend
the night together.

“One thing leads to another, and you find my charms totally irresistible and we
make love all night long.”

“Your charms? Irresistible?” she asked skeptically.

“C’mon, give me some credit here. I’m not Frankenstein!”

“You ain’t exactly Freddy Prince Jr., either.”

“That’s why he’s an actor and I’m a writer. No one has to look at my face.”

“I think your face is just fine – you could just stand to loose a few pounds.”

“You want to come pinch my stomach while you say that, or would you rather
insult me from a safe distance?” I said, trying to add some mock hurt into my
voice, but having it come out mostly as sarcastic.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands in defense. “Forget I said anything. And
meet me at Bally Total Fitness tomorrow,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.

“I don’t think we have one in this state,” I said, absentmindedly.

“You awake over there?” she asked suddenly.

“Sorry,” I said, snapping out of it for a second. “Just thinking about the
story.”

“Then I’ll let you get to work,” she said, standing up. Even though I stood a
full head above her, there was something in her presence that made me think she
would stand out in a room of giants. I then quickly stopped thinking as she
kissed my cheek again and walked into the other room. As I watched her ass sway,
I found myself wishing she’d given me some more inspiration.

* * *

“Do you actually listen to all these CDs?” She asked as I entered my room.
She’d been in here for the last hour and a half as I’d written away, setting up
the story of the “two of us” having sex out in the wilderness. I’d finally
allowed my curiosity to what she was doing overcome my writing pace, and had
gone in search of her.

She stood in the corner, leafing through my less than organized CD collection.
She was bending over a bit to reach the bottom shelf, and her perfectly shaped
rear end greeted me, the low riding jeans she was wearing sliding down just
enough to leave more than just a hint of her ass showing.

For a heartbeat, I’d thought back to all my fantasies about finding sexually
attractive female stars in my bedroom, hot, horny, and waiting for me to take
them to the greater heights of ecstasy that no other man had ever brought them
to.

Oddly enough, at this moment, I found myself wishing I could freeze time, for
as soon as she stood up, I would realize that while her mission to my place was
sex related, the possibility of me and Rachael Leigh Cook ending up sweating
together between my sheets was about as likely as Pamela Anderson winning an
Oscar for her portrayal of Mother Theresa in a Farrely Brother’s film.

But time continued along in it’s annoyingly too fast pace and she stood up and
gave me an odd look, like she was waiting for an answer or something.

“Huh?” I managed.

“Your CDs? You’ve got the weirdest collection I’ve ever seen. A combination of
Pop princesses, Country Divas, Star Wars Music, and the occasional alternative
or rock album.”

“Yeah?” I asked, not getting her meaning.

“Do you really listen to all of these?”

“Yeah,” I said. I’d been through this my entire life. All the music I had, I
liked. Even some of the older stuff, like Paula Abdul or Amy Grant, was still
good music to me. I enjoyed it, and I listened to it, no matter what anyone else
said. Sure, when I was at college I got ragged on a lot for listening to more
music from girls than anything else, but that’s just the taste I had.

“You have all three Britney Spears CDs,” she said.

“Yep.”

“You’ve got Faith Hill.”

“Yeah.”

“Vitamin C, LeAnn Rimes, Willa Ford, The Dixie Chicks.”

“Your point?”

“These are some of the women you’ve written stories about,” she said.

“Yeah. What, you’ve never daydreamed about having sex with a rock star?” I
asked defensively.

“I’m more into actors, really,” she said, a bit flippantly. Then she saw
something, and at once I knew what it must have been by the way her eyes shot
wide.

“Oh my god,” she half whispered. “You bought the soundtrack,” she said.

“Yeah. Long before I saw the movie, too.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“It’s not bad,” I said. “Kinda rock-ish, really. You should know.”

“Oh, I know,” she said. “I just can’t believe you bought it. You must have been
the only one who did.”

I didn’t answer her, just watched as she walked over to my CD player and tried
to figure out how to get it open. To her credit, she did better than I did my
first time, and I used to work with the damnable things. She took out a CD and
put the new one in its place. As soon as the door slid shut, she hit the play
button and turned to me, all smiles.

And at that exact moment, time froze for me. This time, though, my thoughts
weren’t all sexual and perverted. They were how much I wanted to place my hands
on her perfect tits; they were about how I wanted to slide my manhood between
her legs, or anything like that.

For that one frozen moment, I just wanted to look at that perfect face, with
her magical smile shinning at me. I wanted to stay like this forever, never
moving, never having anything change. The music would never start. No one would
ever knock on the door. The clock would never change.

She would never leave.

About the time I felt my own smile appear on my face, the music started, and my
moment was gone forever.

She walked over to me and took my hands, pulling my slightly into the other
room, leaving the door open so the music would drift out behind us.

“Listen,” she said, looking at me with a smile still on her face. “It’s getting
kinda late, and I want to get back to the hotel. Can I come by again tomorrow?”
she asked.

My mind shattered into a billion pieces at that exact moment. Most of me wanted
her to stay, though for different reasons. Part didn’t want to see her go,
incase she didn’t come back. Part of me wanted her to stay so we could be
together more. Part of me said she could sleep here with me – naked, in my bed,
after we’d gotten too tired to orgasm again.

“How far’s your hotel?” I asked, shocking most every part of me.

“Not too far. It’s the Ramada,” she said.

“The one here in town?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll drive you,” I said. “Save you the cab fare.”

“Thanks,” she said, beaming. “You’re so sweet.”

The irony struck me as all to insane that she had just called a man writing a
pornographic fantasy about her sweet. I thought about that all the way to the
Hotel and all the way back without her. That irony, and the memory of her tits
flashing me kept me in the strangest conundrum for most of the night.

When I got home, the “Josie and the Pussycats” Movie Soundtrack was still going
in my CD Player.

* * *

I almost always wake up the same way – three or four minutes before the clock
goes off and hating myself for missing out on those three or four extra minutes
of sleep. Truth be told, it was probably a good thing that my body had a regular
sleep schedule that it stuck to without being told. But that didn’t mean I had
to like it.

And it didn’t mean that I didn’t get upset when that sleep schedule is
disrupted.

I rolled off the bed wearing nothing but my boxers that I wear to sleep, and
swore at the telephone. Sometimes it really sucked being the only one in the
house while the rest of the family was away on a vacation.

Running my hands through my hair and over my eyes, I grabbed the phone and
muttered an almost understandable hello into the phone. I think it came out as
“Melwoha?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Rachael said, her voice ringing in the head.

For half a second, I almost said “Me who?” Then the whole last day came
flooding back into my brain, and I almost dropped the phone.

“Hey,” I said, my brain kicking into overdrive as it woke up. Having an
incredibly hot movie star call you to arrange a time to get together to write a
sex fantasy about her works better than any coffee at waking you up.

“Did I wake you up?” She asked, a touch of concern filling her voice.

“Yes,” I answered, looking at the clock and realizing that it was awfully close
to when I would have had to get up anyway. “But it looks like I was going to be
getting up soon anyway, so don’t worry about it.”

“Great,” she said. “Can I impose on you to come by and pick me up?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” I said looking around for my slippers. “Give me about forty minutes
so I have time for a shower and a shave before driving up to get you.”

“Great,” she said. “Tell you what, Breakfast is my treat.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

“See you in a few, handsome,” she said.

“You too, beautiful,” I answered. Then I almost dropped the phone again,
because I remembered who I was talking to.

“You are too sweet,” she said before hanging up. I held onto the phone, still
shocked that I was still alive.

Then another part of my body started talking to me, and I suddenly needed to go
visit the bathroom.

I stubbed my toe on the stairs when I realized that she’d actually called my
handsome.

* * *

“Thanks so much for picking me up,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat
of my car. I pretended to adjust my seatbelt in order to hide my rapidly growing
erection in my pants. I had known who I was going to be picking up, and I had
known it was a rather warm day for this time of the year, but I still hadn’t
been ready for the sight that had greeted me when I’d pulled up to the hotel.

She’d been standing outside, talking on a cell phone when I arrived. She was
wearing a pink halter top that left quite a bit of her flat stomach visible, as
well as her bare arms and plenty of cleavage. A pair of short-shorts – the likes
of which I hadn’t seen since the hottest days from my college career – a pair of
sandals, and dark sunglasses were the only other things she wore, and I
suspected I wasn’t the only one who needed to adjust his pants upon seeing this
beauty.

Her mildly tanned skin seemed to glitter as she sat down and buckled up, and
her breasts bounced playfully as her weight shifted and she got settled.

“So, how are you this morning?” she asked as I started out of the hotel parking
lot.

“Good,” I said. “How about you?”

“Good,” she said. “I didn’t really mind sleeping in a hotel bed for once.”

“That’s cool,” I said. “I usually have a hard time sleeping in a hotel bed.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a pain for me, too. But for once I did all right.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” I asked.

“How long do you plan to work on the story?” She countered. I saw the smile on
her face that said she was joking, but part of me suddenly felt very weird. Was
she really just here to have me write a story about her? Would she up and leave
as soon as I was done? Could I stall on it forever, thus keeping her in my life
indefinitely?

Would I ever see her again if I finished?

“Where do you want to go for breakfast?” she asked me suddenly, and my mind
snapped back into the present.

“I don’t know. We aren’t exactly packed with restaurants in this town – we have
seventeen pizza places, but only one or two real other kinds of places to eat –
unless you count fast food.”

She thought for a second. “Then let’s hit a grocery store.”

“Huh?” I said.

“I’ll make you a breakfast while you sneak in some more writing. I may not be
the best cook in the world, but I think I can come up with some eggs and toast.”

I smiled back as a thought entered my head. “That’s not much of a breakfast,” I
said. “How about I see your eggs and toast and raise you home made pancakes.”

“You make pancakes?” she said, looking at me like I had to be kidding her.

“I make great pancakes,” I said. “Old family recipe, too. What do you say?”

“If you make pancakes as well as you say you do, then I may have to get you to
write a few more stories about me,” she said, her face nothing but smiles and
beauty.

I thought my heart was going to explode in pleasure as I drove to the store and
tried to remember all the ingredients I’d need to impress a famous movie star
with pancakes.

* * *

I make good pancakes. I also make a mess at the same time – the only three
skills I never mastered at making pancakes were dumping flour, breaking eggs,
and flipping the first two or three pancakes I make. By the time I had a full
batch of pancakes sitting on the table, there was a pile of paper towels filled
with eggshells and yolk, several spots where pancake mix had hit the counter
top, and my shirt was mildly covered with flour.

Comparatively, she sat down looking like some kind of sexually empowered pixie
who’d just wafted through a dew spray and was clean and fresh for the day. If I
hadn’t been mildly embarrassed by my own appearance, I would have sat down and
stared at her for the rest of eternity. As it was, I had to work to get my mouth
moving to excuse myself while I changed shirts. I raced back upstairs upon
changing and we sat down for breakfast.

I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal as much as I enjoyed that one.
Pancakes have always been one of my favorite meals, but I’d never had them with
someone who made me feel as special for making them. There were times when the
only thing that seemed to keep her from complimenting me on the meal was the
fact that she had to chew and swallow it.

We talked the whole time we ate. We talked about our lives, current events,
growing up, and all sorts of things. For someone who usually eats a meal in
about eight minutes flat, I found myself wishing that when we stood up to clean
the plates away more than an hour later that I had a second course or something
ready to go.

But just because we’d stopped eating didn’t mean we’d stopped talking. We moved
on, cleaning up the kitchen, still talking. We moved on to sports, which she
didn’t follow much, to Hollywood, which despite my taste in erotic fiction, I
knew surprisingly little about. By the time we finished cleaning, she’d learned
why the Boston Red Sox were better than the dreaded New York Yankees despite the
fact that the Sox hadn’t won a world series since before my Grandfather was
born, and I had learned that filming a kissing scene with Freddy Prince Jr. is
actually an ordeal in avoiding bad breath.

“That was such a good meal,” she said as I started the dishwasher going.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, half jokingly.

“There’s just one problem,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“After eating all that, we need to exercise.”

“We?” I said. “Speak for yourself, miss actress. I’m more than happy sitting
down and writing for a living.”

“Oh come on,” she said, playfully. “We can work out together. It’ll be fun.”

“Or,” I countered, “You could go work out by yourself and I can stay here and
write your story.”

“Oh no, you don’t get out of it that easy,” she said.

“I don’t even have clothes to work out in,” I said, and instantly thought it
the dumbest excuse I’d ever heard.

“Then I’ll buy you some,” she smiled at me, standing up.

It was right then that I thought she might have been using her cleavage to
distract me, but I wasn’t sure – mostly because I was staring at her tits
through the flimsy material of her halter-top.

“No,” I said after a second, knowing that she’d figured out what I’d been
looking at. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Why not? C’mon, it’ll be fun!”

“I have work to do,” I said. “On YOUR story, no less.”

“Then think of this as research,” she said, taking me by the hand. “You can
learn all sorts of stuff about me while we shop and then exercise.”

“There’s no way I’m getting out of this, is there?” I asked meekly as she
tugged me towards the door.

Suddenly, she stopped, pulled my head down towards her a little, and whispered
in my ear.

“No,” she said, kissing me on the cheek again.

As we headed back towards my car, I began to wonder if an extremely attractive
young woman too easily swayed me. Then she sat down next to me in the car and
smiled with just a hint of seduction in her face, and I forgot all about it.

* * *

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” I said, only half jokingly as I continued
to move through minute nine.

“Oh for crying out loud, don’t tell me you’re such a baby all the time,” she
said as she moved her legs next to me, moving a lot more gracefully on the
machine than I was. Elliptical machines are sort of like a stationary exercise
bike, only there’s no seat, and your feet work just like you’re walking. It’s
designed so that you don’t put a lot of stress on your joints, and according to
the girl who helped get the two of us going, was a great way to start any
exercise session.

Right then I was wishing I was on an exercise bike, because at least then I’d
have been sitting down.

“Complaining is a god given right that all men and women have. It’s part of
free speech and is protected by the constitution,” I said between heavy breaths.

“Uh-huh,” she said back at me with a look of disbelief in her eyes. “And I’m in
line to be the next queen of England.”

“If THAT were true, I’d move to England right away,” I said.

“Now you’re trying to butter me up so you can get off the machine.”

I didn’t answer that, just looked at the clock. Two minutes left in our
twelve-minute session on the Ellipticals. I hoped like all hell that I’d make it
through.

“After this, we hit the exercise bikes for twelve minutes, and then the
treadmills for another twelve,” she said to me, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“You ARE trying to kill me,” I muttered.

“Oh, come on, you’re a big boy. And just think, after a little exercise, you’ll
have all the girls flocking over you.”

“Now I know you’re exaggerating,” I said humorously.

Rachael smiled at me. “Well, I will flock all over you,” she said, making my
heart go even faster than the exercise was already forcing it to go.

“Oh yeah?” I said, trying to be as flirty as I could while my body worked
itself towards a heart attack. And the view wasn’t helping. Most of the people
in the exercise room were women wearing either spandex or Lycra or some other
form-hugging clothing. And my movie star companion was certainly not helping
matters with what she was wearing.

Clad in little more than a sports bra and a pair of stretch shorts that covered
very little below or above her ass, Rachael looked like she was dressed to
exercise for the rest of her life. The bra held her perky tits in, but despite
its design to prevent such things, they still bounced up and down occasionally
when she moved. Her ass moved with each step, seemingly hypnotic at times in
it’s pure sexual powers, and the fact that it was outlined so exactly by her
stretch-shorts made it impossible to ignore for long. She had a slight sheen of
sweat covering parts of her body, which I credited more to the slightly high
temperature in the room than any real exertion on her part. Her skin glimmered
in the florescent lights of the exercise room, and had I not been about ready to
collapse, I would have been as erect as any man could get without bursting
through my new exercise shorts – which were thankfully far more conservative
than hers.

“Yeah, I’d flock all over you,” she said, her smile turning a bit wicked.
“After all, you’re my ride back to the hotel room.”

I laughed and feigned pain to my heart, as if I’d been shot right through it. I
was about to say something along the lines that I would be forever scarred by
her torture when the timers on our machines beeped, and we moved on to the
exercise bikes. I half collapsed onto mine, and unfortunately was only half
pretending to be exhausted. I never had considered myself to be perfectly fit,
but I never realized just how out of shape I was.

“Time for the bikes!” She said, all perky like. Normally, anyone who ever said
something to me like that when I felt the way I did right then would’ve gotten
at least a nasty glare – possibly my fist in his or her face. But even in my
exhausted shape, my attraction to my companion was so great that I could not
even muster the will to scowl. I might have moaned just a bit before starting to
work on the bikes, but I’m not sure if anyone else heard it.

I groaned a little as I sat down on the bike, but she hopped right on hers and
started pedaling her little heart away. She looked over at me and my
half-hearted effort and got a devious look in her eyes.

“You wanna’ race?” She asked.

“Sure,” I said, pointing towards the soda machine in the corner. “First one to
get their bike over to the soda machine buys me a drink.”

“Not what a meant, jackass,” she said, still smiling. “Let’s see which of us
gets more miles on their bike in twelve minutes.”

“You’ll win,” I said. “No reason for me to even try.”

“What if I told you that if you at least keep up with me, you’ll get a treat
later.”

“What am I, your pet dog?” I asked.

“No, silly,” she said, pedaling away. “But if you don’t start moving, you’ll
never know what I have in mind.”

Apparently, I’m an idiot, because I started putting effort into my biking, and
by the time the next twelve minutes had passed, I managed to be only one mile
behind her total.

“Nice job,” She said, hopping off her bike and grabbing a towel. I wasn’t sure
which was a more erotic sight – her bending over to pull the towel out of her
bag, or the way the sweat was starting to plaster her hair to her forehead.
“Remind me to give you your treat later.”

“Why not now?” I asked, half jokingly. She gave me a look that said she was
actually considering it, but shook her head.

“Right now,” she said, her voice low, husky, and filled with sexual innuendo,
“We’ve got to hit the treadmills.”

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” I said, feeling my legs already starting to
give out.

“Nope. Twelve minutes on a treadmill, and then we can hit the showers.”

“You’ll have to roll my dead body into them, then,” I muttered as we headed
over towards the other side of the room.

After a totally agonizing twelve minutes of walking on a treadmill – agonizing
both in the physical strain I was feeling and the fact that she had gotten a
treadmill directly ahead of me, her ass waving seductively at me the entire time
– we finally stopped working out for the day.

I was just about to enter the men’s dressing room to take a shower and get
dressed when she grabbed my arm.

“Hey, after your shower, don’t get dressed. They have a sauna here, and I’d
love to share it with you.”

A sudden image of her and me lying about in only towels amid a cloud of steam
suddenly gave new life to my tired body.

“Meet you there in fifteen minutes,” I said, smiling.

“Great – oh, and don’t forget, I still owe you a treat.”

I was torn as I stood under the shower nozzle in the changing room – I love
long, hot showers, and after having been through a workout like that, I needed
one. But the very idea of spending ANY time with Rachael Leigh Cook in a sauna
made me push to get through my shower faster than I would have liked. Fifteen
minutes later, clad only in a towel wrapped around my waist, I entered the sauna
from the connection to the men’s room, and looked around for her.

Rachael had beat me to the steam, and was lying on a bench, her short dark hair
wrapped in a towel, and her tight, firm body was held – rather loosely – in a
second, larger towel.

“Hey you,” she said, seeing me enter. I was surprised that we were the only
ones in such a large sauna, but I wasn’t going to complain.

“Hey yourself,” I replied, sitting down next to her and feeling the warmth of
the room already starting to work on my sore muscles.

She shifted around and went from lying on her stomach to sitting next to me –
how she did so without loosing her towel, I’ll never know, but part of me wish
she hadn’t been so talented at that moment.

“Did I mention I’m proud of you?” she said, putting a hand on my arm gently.

“For what?” I asked as she slid a little closer to me.

“For making it through the workout. I know it wasn’t something you were ready
to do, or really wanted to.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you do that sort of thing alone,” I said.

“Yes you could have,” she replied. “And you had every reason not to join me
here.”

“Yeah, but there were advantages for me, as well,” I said, putting some
mischief in my voice.

“Oh yeah?” She said, sliding a little closer to me. Our arms were touching now,
and her knee was right next to mine.

“Yeah,” I said. “Did you get a look at that girl who works here? The blonde one
who got us squared away and signed in? Man, she was hot,” I said, trying very
hard not to laugh at the same time.

“Why you little twip,” she said, playfully swatting my leg. “And all this time,
I thought maybe you were developing a crush on me.”

“Oh really?” I said, trying to stay calm. Inside, my heart was suddenly beating
almost as fast as the exercise had gotten in going. “And if you were right, and
I WAS getting a crush on you, what would you do about it?”

She smiled at me, slid as close to me as she could on the bench and lay her
head on my shoulder, closing her eyes as she did so.

“I suppose,” she said, “that IF you were to say that you were getting a crush
on me, then I MIGHT have to say that I’m getting a bit of a crush on you.”

“Oh, really,” I said as she took my hand and wrapped it in hers. “Well, IF I
were to have a crush on you, and IF you were to have a crush on me, what would
you want to do about it – hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically?” she asked. “Well, hypothetically, if we were both to have
crushes on each other, than I suppose I would have to tell you that IF you
wanted to, you could kiss me.”

My lips went instantly dry, forcing me to lick them. I was getting hot, and I
knew it wasn’t all from the steam.

“Oh, I see,” I managed to say. “So, hypothetically, if I bent down right now
and kissed you, you wouldn’t get upset?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said, looking at me with her eyes.

Somewhere, deep in the back of my head, I was screaming out for joy as a moved
my head down. I was about to kiss Rachael Leigh Cook, one of the hottest women
in Hollywood. One of the most beautiful women to ever appear in the movies. One
of the sexiest images I had ever seen.

She moved her head up to mine, and her hand gripped my leg lightly as our lips
moved towards each other.

And then, as if we were in a bad sitcom or something, the door to the sauna
opened, and in walked the woman who’d gotten the two of us signed up. She was
tall, blonde, and had a pair of breasts large enough to serve as personal
floatation devices for two or three people. Clad only in a towel, she smiled
broadly at us as we pulled away at each other.

“Oh, hey!” the employee said. “Glad to see you two are enjoying the steam
room!” Rachael muttered something in response that seemed more than a little
flustered. I simply blushed.

“You know,” the blonde said, secretly, “If there’s at least one employee in
here, and it’s not busy, this steam room is clothing optional.”

Rachael and I traded looks, and turned back just in time to see the girl drop
her towel. The two of us looked at her naked body for several seconds, as she
sat down and started putting some kind of lotion on. Rachael motioned that we
should get going, and the last thing I remembered about the sauna was that I
never in a million years thought I’d end up in a steam room with Rachael Leigh
Cook and a naked blonde.

* * *

Rachael received a call on her cell phone, demanding that she spend some time
going over possible movie contracts, and I decided it would be better if I left
her at her hotel and went back to my place and wrote for a while.

I surprised myself at how much I was able to write, considering what had
happened earlier. But after an hour or two, I gave up. Standing up, I went into
my room and decided to watch some TV. Not much was on, so I basically left it
running just for some noise other than my CD player.

I wasn’t sure what exactly was going through my head anymore. Part of me wanted
to hop in my car, drive up and see Rachael, and collect on that near-kiss we
almost had in the sauna. Another part of me wanted to hide away here, and
pretend the whole thing never happened. I mean, what was the chance of a girl
was wonderful as her actually liking someone like me? If she hadn’t had this
strange fascination with getting a Sex Story about herself written, we would
never have met. And why exactly did she want the story.

My head was really rolling now, and the mystery was beginning to really get to
me. Two days ago, I was just some guy living my less-than-satisfactory life, and
now I was on the verge of romancing a beautiful movie star, while writing a
sexual fantasy about her, and spending my entire week off with her.

That was another thing. What would I say to the people at work when they asked
me if I’d done anything during my vacation? Or my family, for that matter. Who
would believe that I’d gotten lucky with Rachael Leigh Cook and was now dating
her?

Did she even want to date me? Or was I simply a means to an ends for her? Did
she feel the same level of attraction I did for her, or was she acting it all
out, in order to get what she wanted?

Sometimes I hated the way my mind jumped from one point to another. Sure, it
made writing easy when you could see where things should go next, but it made
living with uncertainty a hell of a lot harder.

I had been sitting in front of the TV for something like two or three hours
when I heard to doorbell ring. My heart leapt a bit, and I instantly hoped it
was Rachael. It was getting late into the evening, and I desperately wanted to
be with her again. If nothing else, I just wanted her in the room with me,
smiling at me while we talked, or laughing at some dumb joke I came up with.

I headed up stairs as quick as I could without acting like a complete idiot and
went to the door.

As I opened the door, the sight of an absolute angel greeted me.

Rachael stood there, her dark hair curling slightly around her perfect face,
her lips and eyes smiling at me. She wore a simple white dress that hugged her
body in all the right places. A plunging neckline drew my eyes to her chest, and
a modestly short skirt ended a bit above her knees. A simple white belt clinched
the dress to her waist, and despite the fact that it was right against her body
she looked comfortable. She wore simple, white high heels and carried a small
white purse that matched the whole outfit. A tiny pair of diamond earrings and a
small choker necklace completed the ensemble.

I felt my legs go weak, and part of me honestly thought I was dreaming. She
looked perfect – beautiful, cute, sexy, and any other adjective you could name
to complement a woman, she fit it.

“Hey you,” she said, sounding for all the world like we were best friends.

“Hey,” I managed. “You look fantastic.”

“Thank you,” she beamed as she came in. “I was hoping for that reaction.”

“Looking like that, you’re sure to get it,” I said.

“Good,” she said simply. She put her purse down and looked at me for a moment.
“Do I get a hug?”

“Huh?” I said, hardly able to think. Her dress looked just as good from behind
as it did from the front.

“Do I get a hug, silly,” she said, opening her arms up towards me. Seizing the
moment, I opened my arms, and we hugged. Her arms felt wonderful wrapping around
my back, and I did my best to not let my hands slide down her back to her
perfect ass.

I was enjoying the hug so much, I didn’t even see her pull her head back a bit
and look at me until she was already moving in towards my face. Before I knew
it, we were kissing, and for the second time in as many minutes, I felt my knees
starting to give out.

Her lips felt like smooth silk as we kissed, but there was a hint of passion
behind her kiss, and I fed on that like a starving man who suddenly found
himself in a bakery. I gripped her tighter to my body, and added my own passion
to the mix. The fact that she didn’t pull away, didn’t try and break the kiss
told me all I needed to know at that moment, and I willed time to slow down, and
for the kiss to last forever.

Someday, I need to learn how to actually make time slow down. Once again, the
moment ended far too soon as she pulled back gently from me and took a breath. I
managed one of my own, and we looked at each other.

“You kiss better than I thought you would,” she said to me, taking my hand in
hers.

“Gosh, I hope that’s a compliment,” I said.

She reached up and kissed me again, quickly.

“Oh yes,” she said.

“Wonderful,” I said. I gave a little tug on her arm and pulled her back to me.
I kissed her again, tilting her back a little bit as I did so. She let out the
tiniest of squeaks as I pulled her to me, but moaned in appreciation as I kissed
her, and mere heartbeats later, her hands were caressing my chest through my
shirt.

She pulled back a second or two later and looked at me.

“I think it’s pretty obvious now that I DO have a crush on you,” she said.

“Ditto, sweetheart,” I said, smiling. She came in again, and we kissed again,
and this time I allowed my hands to slide down to the small of her back.

Her hands found their way to my rear end, and very suddenly, the thought of
sleeping with Rachael Leigh Cook filled my head. It must have shown in my kiss,
because she pulled back and held up a finger at me suddenly.

“Uh-uh, big boy,” she said, scolding my playfully. “Let’s not get all hot and
heavy right here.”

“Right, right,” I said, trying to calm myself down, and thinking the whole time
that I had blown it.

“If we’re going to do it tonight, it better be in your bed,” she said, heading
downstairs.

I stood their dumbfounded for a moment or two before she called back to me.

“Are you coming or not?”

“On my way!” I called out, chasing after her.

I caught up with her in my bedroom, where she was already pulling down the
covers on my bed. Not being able to resist, I came up behind her and wrapped my
arms around her body. I started kissing her neck gently, while enjoying the feel
of her between my hands.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned. “Nice touch, sexy.”

“Thank you,” I said, spinning her around carefully. I stared into her eyes for
several seconds, seeing a mixture of excitement, warmth, and an undeniable lust
the likes of which would make any man fall to his knees.

I simply kissed her as passionately as I could.

She responded by pulling me onto the bed. I landed atop her, still mixing my
tongue with hers. Her hands returned to my chest – only this time it was to
start undoing the buttons at the collar of my shirt. Three buttons go awfully
quick when a sexy brunette movie star is undoing them. She reached down and
grabbed the edges of my shirt and quickly lifted it over my head.

The feel of her hands and lips on my skin was like heaven, sending small pulses
of pleasure across my chest.

Suddenly, she placed her hands on my shoulders, and rolled me over onto my
back. She kissed me once, quickly and with a lot of steam, and then stood up,
taking a few steps back.

“Stay right there,” she whispered.

I watched, amazed, as Rachael Leigh Cook – a woman I had dreamed about seeing
naked for years – reached behind her neck and carefully unzipped her dress. The
white fabric slid down to her shoulders, and with a quick shimmy, Rachael moved
it down over her perfectly perky tits, held in place with a white, strapless bra
that did nothing to hide the curves of her breasts. Another shimmy brought the
dress down to her waist, and one more sent it falling to the floor with a gentle
thud, leaving Rachael clad only in her bra and a white thong.

“Wow,” I said, looking at her petite and perfect form.

I’ve always loved shorter women with dark hair, and Rachael Leigh Cook is the
very definition of a shorter woman with dark locks. Her flawless skin shined
everywhere the light hit it, from her adorable shoulders, to her shapely and
pleasing legs, to the ample amount of cleavage flowing out from her bra.

“Now that’s a reaction I never get tired of,” she said, smiling at me as she
came forward again. I had hoped that she would crawl on top of me again, and I
could feel her skin against mine, but she had other ideas. She reached down and
grabbed the buckle of my belt, undoing it in a few quick moves. She pulled on it
and yanked it out of my pants, and then let it drop to the floor next to her
dress.

I smiled and started to get up, but she pushed me back down.

“Did I say you could move yet?” she said, a devilish grin on her face.

“Sorry,” I said, laying back, my hands itching to feel the firmness of her
breasts, the smoothness of her skin, the dampness of her crotch.

Rachael undid the snap on my pants, and then unzipped them as slowly as she
possible could. My rock hard penis, still inside my underpants, made it more
difficult that it should have been. Still, she succeeded in turning me on even
more than I already was.

She looked down at my still covered crotch and smiled.

“Nice,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said as she pulled my pants down and stood back up. I marveled at
the fact that I was alone in my room with an amazing Movie Star, neither of us
wearing anything but our underwear. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d had
a fantasy like this.

And then, it got better.

Rachael reached up behind her and unsnapped her bra, allowing the strapless
piece to fall to the ground before her.

I did my best not gawk at her perfect tits. A decent size, a large b-cup to say
the least, and as perky as the day is long, Rachael’s breasts were an amazing
sight. She ran a hand over them lazily, like they were no big deal, and then
smiled at me.

“I’ve shown you mine, time for you to show me yours,” she said, a slight,
sexual huskiness to her voice. “Let’s loose the boxers.”

“No problem,” I said. I reached down while rolling on to my back, and quickly
shucked off my shorts, rolling back into a lying position before her. My rock
hard member was sticking straight up now, demanding attention.

“Oh yeah,” she said, moving closer. “That’s a VERY nice cock you’ve got there.”

“Thanks, sexy,” I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her on top of me. I
instantly started kissing her, running my lips over hers while my hands found
there way to her breasts. She held herself above me with her left hand, while
her right slid down towards my erection, gently teasing my skin as she went. She
found it quickly, and started giving it some gentle tugs.

I moaned in response, and she started tugging harder. I broke our kiss, taking
in a deep breath, and then felt my eyes go wide as she started licking her way
down my chest.

“Whoa,” was about all I could manage until she reached my crotch with her head.
She glanced up to be sure I was watching, and then winked at me.

And then, in one quick swoop, she swallowed my dick into her mouth.

I gasped in pleasure, and then moaned in delight as she gently teased my cock
head with her tongue, never letting my member out of her mouth. I didn’t know
where Rachael learned to perform oral sex, but I was quite happy with her
studies on the subject.

Rachael blew me like there was no tomorrow. She licked. She sucked. She teased.
She held my balls, and she stroked my shaft with her hands. Her eyes would
frequently dart up my body towards my face, and more often than not, she found
it a mask of pure near-orgasmic pleasure.

I have no idea how long that blow job lasted, but I had never had one that
lasted so long, and made me feel as aroused as that one. When Rachael finally
pulled off, I was so close to loosing my load, that a single twitch of my cock
would have been enough to send me over the edge.

“Did you enjoy that?” She asked, playfully as she stood up again, leaving me by
myself on the bed.

“Oh god, yes,” I said. “I’ve – I’ve never had one that good before.”

“Great,” she said. She reached down to her thong panties, and quickly slid them
off her body. I felt my eyes go wide again as I saw her neatly trimmed bush that
was nothing more than a thing strip of hair pointing towards her most private of
areas.

She giggled a little bit, then held out her arms away from her body and went
“Ta-dah!”

I laughed, but clapped my hands in appreciation.

“You like?” She asked.

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“What, my cunt, or all the rest of me?” she asked.

“Both,” I said, smiling wickedly.

“Right answer, smart boy,” she said, hopping on the bed next to me. She brought
her lips up to mine, and we kissed again. I could feel the pure, erotic hunger
in her kisses, and knew right then and there that she wanted me as much as I
wanted her. Our hands roamed each other’s bodies like wild creatures seeking a
home. Our tongues meshed together, seeking each other only to bounce away and
come back again within our mouths.

I needed her. I needed her body, her skin, her lips. I needed to feel my hands
on her breasts, my lips upon her flesh, my erection buried deep within her
folds.

And I knew she needed all of that, too. I could tell.

I was just about to make my move, to roll on top of her and get things started,
when she rolled on top of me.

“I think it’s time we got down to business,” she said, half jokingly, half out
of breath from our kissing. She slid down my body and straddled my waist.
Slowly, carefully, she lowered herself on top of my cock, all the while her eyes
never leaving mine.

We both gasped as I felt the tip of my manhood hit the moist folds of her
crotch. Slowly, carefully, and erotically, she slid down my member until her ass
touched my legs. Leaning forward, she grabbed my hands and placed them on her
breasts, which I instantly started kneading, getting a real thrill out of how
perky they were. She then placed her hands on the bed next to my shoulders, and
started lifting up again.

We started building an increasing rhythm of me thrusting just as she slid down,
and before I knew it, we were a mess of sweat and moaning for our lives. Rachael
was tight, wet, and smooth. Every thrust into her I made seemed to send a
thousand more waves of pleasure through my body than the last. Her insides felt
like some combination of velvet and silk, of warmth and sweetness, slick and
tight.

If I were to describe the most perfect fuck in the world, Rachael Leigh Cook
would be it.

Eventually, I felt my limit approaching. I looked up at her and saw the bliss
on her face. I could tell she was close too. But with no condom on, I didn’t
want to risk anything. I was about to slow down when she put a finger to her
lips, as if to quiet my words before I spoke them.

“I’m on the pill,” she said.

“Wonderful,” I said, thrusting into her even harder.

“I’m so close,” she whispered. “Please, don’t stop.”

I didn’t stop, but I did take one of my hands off her breast and moved it down
to where our sexes were mixing together. I found her clit with my finger, and I
gently flicked it.

She exploded on top of me with a desperate gasp for breath before collapsing on
top of me. She kept her pelvic thrusts going as her entire body shook with
orgasm. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and with her chest on mine, I could
feel her heart going about a billion miles a second.

Her climax was more than enough to send me over the edge, and with my own gasp,
I sent my load flying into her snatch. My back arched, pressing my body even
more into hers, and I remembered feeling her nipples, rock hard, against my
chest as we both collapsed into a sweaty pile on my bed.

“Wow,” I muttered as I caught my breath.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling up at me. “Wow is right.”

I looked down at her perfect face, her hair sticking to her forehead due to
sweat, and couldn’t help myself. I kissed her again, gently and tenderly. She
returned it, then reached down and started fondling my limp member.

“Ooh,” I said, half surprised by her action.

“Let me see if I can get you going again,” she smiled at me.

“Again?” I asked playfully. “And what exactly would you like me to do if we
were to do that again?”

“Oh, I think I can find a few new tricks we haven’t tried yet.”

My penis was getting larder in her hands, and I felt the arousal in my head
respond. I reached forward and started stroking one of her nipples.

“Like what?” I asked.

She smiled at me, gave me one more good tug, then got up and turned around. She
maneuvered her self so that she was on all fours, her bubble butt facing me.

“Ever tried anal sex?” she asked.

“No time like the present,” I responded. My erection had fully returned now as
I positioned myself behind her. She let her upper body drop to the bed
carefully, then reach back with her hands and spread her ass cheeks a little.

“Give me a few good thrusts in the front hole to lube yourself up,” she
suggested. I slowly slid my hard-on into her box and gently started going in and
out.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned. I certainly wasn’t complaining about it myself.

“God, you feel so good,” I muttered, placing my hands on her ass and fondling
it some.

“All right, big boy, move up a hole before we need to rest a while again.”

I pulled out of her pussy and moved up to her anal opening. I gently placed my
cockhead at her entrance, and when she didn’t complain, gently pushed myself
inside.

I was shocked at the tightness. I had head, a dozen times over, how anal sex
always felt tighter than vaginal, but having never done it before, I’d always
assumed it was a bit of an exaggeration.

It wasn’t.

But then again, Rachael had clearly done it before. My manhood slid all the
way, slowly, with little more than a grunt from her. I knew at once that she was
not an anal virgin, but then again, she’d never claimed to be, either.

“Go ahead,” she whispered. “Thrust.”

And I did.

It felt incredibly different than the sex we’d just had minutes ago. This was
rawer, more animalistic. And yet, it was just as erotic and pleasuring. I
started off slow, but soon I was thrusting in and out of her rear end as I had
her cunt earlier. She was moaning in delight, and breathing heavily as I went.

“Oh, god, YES!” She screamed. “FUCK MY ASS!!!”

This was totally different from the lust we’d had earlier, and I could feel it.
This o longer was two people needing to feel each other sexually. This was
simple, plain, hard fucking. And we both knew it.

I thrust harder into her, increasing my pace as best I could, and felt her
squirm in delight as I did so. But neither of us had fully recovered from our
last outing, and the anal sex only lasted a few minutes.

Before I knew it, I let a second load go into her ass, and we both hit the bed
together.

This time, we stayed put for quite a while, my seed slowly seeping out of her
rear end. Twenty minutes later, we got up, went up stairs to different
bathrooms, and cleaned up as best we could.

I met her coming out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel that clung to
her breasts for dear life, and ended just below her ass.

“So, what’s a girl got to do to get a bed for the night around here?” She
asked, playfully.

I laughed, and then pretended to think for a moment.

“Well, if memory serves me right, I believe she would have to be willing to
share that bed with me.”

“I think I can handle that,” she said, reaching up and kissing me.

“Good,” I said.

“On one condition, though,” she added as her hands slid down my bare chest to
my own towel, wrapped around my waist.

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“If we’re going to be sharing a bed, we’re going to need to make sure there’s
plenty of room,” she said, tugging on my towel and letting it drop to the floor.

“I think,” she suggested, “That we’d better leave our clothes off for the
night.”

I reach up and gave her towel a quick tug, and watched as it fell away from her
wet body.

“I think I can agree to that.”

* * *

I woke up the next morning well after when my alarm clock should have gone off.
I had overslept, but considering all that had gone on the day before, it wasn’t
much of a surprise. What was surprising was what had awoken me.

Rachael, still as bare as the day she was born, was moving around the room,
trying to pick up her clothes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, spotting me moving. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right, sexy,” I said playfully. “I should’ve gotten up a while ago
anyway.”

“I hope you don’t mind, but I was going to run out and do some exercising.”

“I don’t mind,” I said, “But if you want to give me about twenty minutes to get
ready, I can go with you if you like?”

She laughed lightly. “That’s okay, handsome. I was hoping to get some time
alone, actually.”

“No problem,” I said, trying not to sound too hurt. I figured I could use some
time to myself to think about what was going on, anyway. Yesterday I had been a
single guy who hadn’t been likely to get laid in the next few months. Today I
had woken up with a naked movie star slipping out of my bed. A few hours to
straighten out my head would probably be a good thing.

“Thanks,” she said, moving over to kiss me on the lips. I was tempted to pull
her down on the bed and make love to her again, but instead I let her get
dressed as I watched. I threw on my clothes as she called for a cab, and walked
her to the door right before it arrived.

“Are you going to come by later?” I asked, trying not to sound too needy or
anything.

“Well, that depends,” she said, kissing me again. “Will you be here for me to
enjoy?”

“Well, gosh, I don’t know,” I said, playing along. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to
do – write a sex story, take a nap, write a sex story, brush my teeth. My day’s
pretty packed, but most of it seems to be around the house stuff.”

“Great,” she said as the cab honked. “I’ll see you this evening. Who knows,
maybe, if we’re not too horny to keep our hands off each other, I can read what
you’ve written already.”

“Well, I can’t make any promises about not being horny,” I said, giving her ass
a gentle squeeze.

“Funny,” she said. We kissed one last time before she bolted out the door and
for the waiting cab.

I spent the next few hours typing away, adding detail to the single sex scene I
had gotten to in the story, and then writing up an entirely new scene with
Rachael and the male lead (who was supposed to be me but really wasn’t) going at
it while skinny dipping in a river.

I tried to reference Rachael’s body, her curves, her form, her moans. I
mentioned how tight she was, and how great her lips felt around a cock.

After about three or four hours, I was as hard as I could get and needed some
release. I tried to distract myself by checking my email, reading the newspaper,
watching daytime TV, and anything else that would kill the mood.

None of it worked.

About my fifth hour after she’d left, I found myself in the shower, hot water
streaming down on me, as I tried very hard not to jerk off too much. I didn’t
want to blow a load before Rachael came back incase we ended up going at it as
soon as she hit the house – which, considering how well things had gone the day
before was a distinct possibility.

After about twenty or twenty-five minutes, and too much time with my hand on my
manhood, I shut the water off and got out, wrapping a towel around me and trying
hard to not think about the copy of the US edition of FHM down in my room – the
one with Rachael on the cover.

And that’s when I spotted them. A small pair of diamond earrings that I had
spotted on Rachael the day before. She must have taken them off in order to take
her quick shower last night. She had forgotten them here, and might even this
minute be looking for them.

I don’t know entirely why I did what I did next. She was coming over later, and
I could’ve given them to her then. I could have waited until she called. I
could’ve just left them downstairs for her to find whenever she showed up next.

But I was thinking with my little head, and before I knew it, I was dressed and
in my car on the way to her hotel. For some reason, I figured if I showed up
with her earrings, she’d be more than happy to see me. And then, of course, we’d
have sex. It made sense at the time.

I pulled into the hotel parking lot and headed inside. I knew the guy working
the counter, and he let me up no questions asked. I reached Rachael’s floor in
no time, and was already imagining what to do with her when things got hot and
heavy again. I was trying to picture the most erotic thing I could ever imagine
as I reached her door.

The door was half cracked.

It took me a second or two to run that through my head. I thought about
knocking, but for some reason, I just pushed the door open gently and entered.

I got in about three steps before I saw the single, most erotic thing I could
ever imagine.

Rachael was on her knees; her head buried in the crotch of the hot blonde
fitness instructor who’d exposed herself to us the day before in the sauna. The
blonde, as naked as she’d been when I’d last seen her, had her eyes screwed shut
as she ran a pink vibrator over her extremely erect nipples. Clothes were strewn
all over the place, and the panting made it clear that sex was the main
attraction of the room.

It was the most heartbreaking thing I had ever seen.

I stood there, watching, as Rachael took a second dildo and started working it
into the blonde’s ass. The fitness instructor cried out as an orgasm crashed
through her body, but Rachael didn’t let up.

And suddenly, Rachael looked up, directly at me.

Mere heartbeats before, I had been dying to see that face, that body, naked and
sweaty like it was right there. I had desired nothing more than to kiss her, to
make love to her.

But now, as the shock of being caught in the act recoiled across her face, all
I felt was my heart sinking in my chest.

The blonde saw me, and actually smiled.

“Hey, it’s your boyfriend,” she said to Rachael. “C’mon in and join us, stud!”

My eyes never left Rachael’s face as I slowly put down the earrings on the
counter next to me. I never said a word as I turned around. I never looked back
as I walked out of the room.

She called after me, of course. The shock of the moment past, she ran out into
the hallway as I headed towards the elevator.

“Wait!” She called out. “I can explain!”

I turned, despite myself, and looked at her.

She stood there, in the middle of the hallway, completely naked, only her left
hand covering her crotch, her tits bare and exposed to the world. We were the
only ones there, thankfully, but that might have changed at any second.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to say that she hurt me, that she betrayed
me. I wanted to say that I would forgive her, that I cared about her, that I was
falling in love with her. I want to take her back into her hotel room and fuck
her brains out.

But my lips wouldn’t move, and no sounds left my mouth. I turned again and got
into the elevator.

Despite the short trip home, the drive seemed to last forever.

* * *

With the phone unplugged and the doors all locked, I sat down at my computer
and finished the story. I decided that, unlike the cheat she was in real life,
the story would be a fantasy Rachael Leigh Cook – one who enjoyed having sex
with the main character of my story, and fell in love with him. A Rachael that
desired him, and him alone. One that would never have done what she did to me.

It took the better part of the rest of the day to finish the story, and as soon
as I finished running the spell check and re-reading it once just to be sure, I
sent it in to CSSA. I sighed as I hit the send button, and leaned back.

What was I going to do now? I didn’t really have any plans, and no one else was
going to be around for the rest of the week. I thought about writing another
story, but I was tired of sitting at the computer.

I got up and walked around the room a bit, thinking. I thought about going out
a getting a pizza, or running out to a bookstore or something. I thought about
seeing a movie, or even going to a bar and trying to pick up some chick.
Admittedly, I hadn’t tried to pick up anyone since college, but it was a
thought.

And then something hit me, and I smiled at the irony.

I went into my room and grabbed the T-shirt and shorts Rachael had bought me
the day before, and headed up stairs.

I figured that going and exercising at the place where the two of them had
hooked up would be a rather fitting way to show to them that I didn’t care. And
who knew, if I did it enough, maybe I REALLY wouldn’t care about it anymore. I’d
certainly lost girls before, and despite the fact that Rachael was a movie star,
she wasn’t really that different. I had only known her for less than a week,
after all.

I grabbed my car keys and opened the front door. Rachael was sitting there, on
my front steps, quietly waiting for me.

She looked like a sad little angel. She wore a simple pair of white shorts that
exposed her legs, and a Britney Spears T-shirt covered her chest. Simple sandals
covered her feet, exposing red-painted toes. The only part of her that didn’t
look relaxed and comfortable was her eyes. A little red and puffy, it was
obvious she’d been crying lately.

My heart hit my throat, and I stopped, half in the door, half out.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I answered. “Why are you here?”

“I have to talk to you,” she said. “I-,” She started, and then stopped for a
second. She turned away from me, a hand flying to her face. “I have a problem.”

“A problem?” I asked, sitting down next to her.

She looked up at me, and my heart melted. I knew at once that I would forgive
her anything in the world. My heart wouldn’t let me stay mad at her.

“I like sex,” she said. “I like it a lot.”

Like an idiot, I said, “Who doesn’t?”

She turned away again. “You don’t understand. I like sex. I like having sex
with men, and I like having sex with women. I’m bisexual.”

“So?” I said. I honestly didn’t care if people were gay or not, but I had
always suspected more “lesbians” were really just bisexuals who thought because
they liked women, they couldn’t like men.

“So, I can’t help myself sometimes,” she said, practically crying again. “Do
you know that before I came out to look for you, I slept with Katie Holmes and a
guy who wrote a story about her?”

“What?” I said. Part of me was imagining Katie Holmes and Rachael Leigh Cook
together, fucking each other. It was certainly an entertaining thought. But then
something else hit me.

“Another guy, who wrote a story about her?” I asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then you came here because you wanted someone to write a story about you,
too.”

“That’s right,” she said. “And I also wanted to fuck him.”

“You mean me,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. “Is that it?”

“That was the plan,” she whispered. I was getting angry, and stood up. “Then
all I am – all I EVER was to you – is a chance to be like your Hollywood
girlfriend?!” I yelled.

“NO!” She shouted back, tears flowing from her eyes. “I mean, yes, originally,
you were,” she said.

“Oh, well, then, I guess I should feel flattered. What’s the matter, I wasn’t
WOMAN enough for you, so you had to go grab that blonde?”

“No,” she said. “You have to believe me, I didn’t mean for things to happen the
way they did.”

“Oh, really?” I said sarcastically. “Were you supposed to sleep with me twice
before you boffed her?”

“NO!” She said, standing up and turning away from me. “No,” she repeated. “I
had it all planned out. It just didn’t work out right.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “And how WAS it supposed to work out?” I
demanded.

“I wasn’t supposed to sleep with you until after you finished the story,” she
said.

“Oh, really?” I said. “What happened – got too horny to wait another day or two
to get into my pants?”

“No,” she said. “I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t plan on any of it. I
didn’t plan on finding you so attractive. I didn’t plan on getting to know you
so well. Katie and I barely knew the guy we fucked. But you, you were so much
more.”

“I’m supposed to believe this?” I said, trying very hard to still be angry.

“YES, damn it!” She said, turning back to me. “I didn’t mean to fall for you!
Fuck it, I figured you’d be some pimply-faced teenager who I’d screw once and
never see again! But you aren’t! You’re fucking charming, and intelligent, and
damn funny, too!”

I wasn’t sure if I was being complemented or not by her rampage.

“You have to understand, when we spent the night together, after the sex and
all, I felt really good about you. I mean, I when we were working out, I really
fell for you, the way you kept exercising despite the fact that it wasn’t what
you wanted to do.”

“I did it because it meant spending more time with you, Rachael,” I said
quietly.

“I know,” she said back. “And that’s one of the reasons I fell for you. After
we went our separate ways that afternoon, I knew that I had to hurry things up.
I was confused. I came here to get a sex story written, to get a fuck, and move
on. It was supposed to be the perfect week off.”

She turned away again, and kept going. “But damn it all, I fell for you. That’s
why I slept with you that night. I thought if we fucked, I’d get over it. I’ve
never had sex with the same guy more than twice. I figured we’d do it once, then
after you finished the story, we’d do it again, and then we’d never see each
other again!”

“But?” I asked.

“But after we did it, I wanted to do it again. It wasn’t just the sex, it
wasn’t just my physical needs! I wanted YOU!”

“Then why did you sleep with her?” I asked quietly, trying to avoid her
pleading eyes.

“Because I was confused. That’s why I didn’t stay with you this morning, and
why I didn’t want you to come exercise with me again. I needed time to think.”

Rachael collapsed on to the steps again, and her chin hit her chest. “When I
hit the showers after my workout, Tonya caught me by surprise. She was there,
naked, and admiring my body. I was attracted to her. And she was coming on to me
pretty hard. At first, I was going to turn her down, but then I thought that
maybe if I slept with someone else, I’d have an easier time leaving you.”

“Leaving,” I said. It wasn’t a question. We both knew that her time here was
short. She was a movie star, and had to go back to work in Hollywood. While I
still dreamed I might make it there someday as a writer, I didn’t harbor any
illusions that I was ready for that now. I had a job here, one that I’d have to
go back to next week. I had family, friends, and a life here.

I couldn’t give it all up for her, could I?

“Rachael-“ I started to say, but she cut me off.

“I need you in my life,” she said, in no uncertain terms. “I don’t care if
we’re in a long-distance relationship. I don’t care if you want to quit your job
and come live with me. I don’t care if you want me to quit MY job and come be
with you! I don’t care if we simply become sex buddies who get together every
few months! I can’t loose you!”

I was stunned. I never thought about any of this, never thought that she might
say anything close to what she had just said.

“But, the girl,” I said.

“Forget her! Forget Katie! Forget anyone else. I want YOU, damn it! I’ll do
anything to get you back!”

“But there’s no way we could make it work,” I said. Part of me was screaming at
me to shut up! This was my dream girl here, who was declaring her undying
affection for me. What the hell was I doing telling her it wouldn’t work?

“We can make it work.”

“I can’t leave here,” I said. “Not right now. Maybe someday, but not now.”

“Then I’ll come here-“

“NO!” I said, forcefully. “Damn it, you aren’t going to quit acting. I won’t
have it!”

“But-!”

“I said no, Rachael. You told me over our pancake breakfast that you loved
acting, that it made you feel wonderful. I won’t take that away from you.”

“But you’ll take yourself away from me,” she whispered.

I stood there for a second, my soul screaming out conflicting answers at me.

“No, I won’t do that, either,” I said, finally.

Her eyes shot up at me. “What?” she croaked.

“Rachael, I want you,” I said. “I want a relationship with you, and I want you
in my life somehow. ANYHOW! We can’t be together right now, but that doesn’t
mean we can’t still be in a relationship of some kind.”

“What kind?” she asked.

I sighed. This was the tough part. “Friends,” I said. “And, if the opportunity
comes up later, more than friends. A lot more.”

“Friends,” she said, as if tasting the words on her lips. “I think I can manage
that,” she said.

“Great,” I said, taking her in my arms and holding her close to me.

“On one condition,” she said, looking up at me with her eyes clearing and a
slight smile on her face.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“That we’re friends – with benefits.” She reached up and pulled me down to her,
kissing me.

I broke the kiss and looked down at her. She was still beautiful. Still sexy.
And my loins still called out for her.

“Well,” I said, trying to pretend like I was mulling it over. “I did just
finish your story.”

“You did?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” I said, sounding distracted and struggling to keep a smile from
exploding on my face. “I sent it in to CSSA. Carnage should have it up by the
end of the week, if I know him.”

“So you finished it,” she said.

“Yep,” I answered. “Pretty darn erotic, too, If I do say so myself. I called it
‘Long Lost Newfound Lovers.’”

Rachael looked at me for a long moment. “And?” she asked.

I couldn’t help it any more. A slightly goofy smile spread on my face. “I
wouldn’t want you to go back and see Katie without mentioning that you fucked me
AFTER I wrote the story.”

Her eyes went wide with pleasure, and she giggled. “You know,” she said, “I
really would be embarrassed to go back to Katie and have to tell her that I
hadn’t fucked you REALLY good after you finished my story.”

“You could lie to her, I suppose,” I said, letting go of her and heading up the
steps.

“I don’t know,” she said, coming after me. “I wouldn’t want to lie to my
friend.”

“Well, then,” I said, stepping inside and quickly pulling her in with me. I
shut the door and wrapped my hands around her waist. “I guess you and I are just
going to have to fuck each other.”

As she laughed aloud, my hands found the button on her shorts and undid them. I
gave them a little yank, and they slid down her perfect legs, exposing a simple
white thong.

“Ooh!” she yelped as I de-panted her. “I guess you’re ready to go now, huh?”
she said, smiling like a wolf.

I answered her by taking her Britney Spears T-shirt and pulling it up over her
head. She’d neglected to wear a bra to come see me, and her perfect tits now
stared out at me like the most perfectly shaped objects mankind had ever seen.

She jumped up into my arms, kissing me and running her hands through my hair.

“Listen boy,” she said as one of my hands found her ass. “You’d better get me
to a flat surface pretty quick, or we’re going to be doing it on the floor.”

I brought her into the next room and gently placed her on the couch. As I
placed her down, I pulled her thong off her body, leaving her beautiful body
naked in front of me. It took me all of ten seconds to shuck off my clothes and
land on the couch above her.

She had been laughing the whole time, and my heart swelled at seeing that her
eyes held no trace of the pain and tears they’d had earlier.

Of course, I paid attention to that for all of a single heartbeat, because the
next thing I new, she was pushing me off her and on to the floor. I landed with
a thud, and before I knew it, she was on top of me, her hand wrapped around my
manhood, jerking away.

“Oh no you don’t, sexy,” she said. “If we’re doing this to make up for MY
fantasy, then we’re doing it my way!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, smiling. “Funny how we ended up on the floor after all,”
I said.

“Oh, be quiet, you,” she said, shuffling her rear end up my body. She
positioned her sex right in front of my face. “Now, let’s see how well you lick
my pussy!”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I’ve never been a huge fan of licking women down there, but I must have sucked
and slurped at Rachael for a good twenty minutes before she finally pulled off
me. Giving me a quick kiss, she shuffled down so that her crotch was directly
over my extremely erect penis. With one swift move, she slid down it, and
engulfed me with her womanhood.

I looked up at her with a combination of love and lust, and her face mirrored
it. A heartbeat later, with a wicked smile on her face, she started riding me
like I was a racehorse.

As pure fucking went, it was perhaps the best session of my life. We both came
with her on top of me, and after that, I took her ass again, marveling again at
it’s tight ecstasy.

When we finished with that, our sex became more like love making. Simple
strokes with out hands, my cock slowly penetrating her while we kissed. A caress
of a breast, a squeeze of an ass, and forty minutes of slow, simple pleasure. It
was how lovemaking was supposed to be.

We finished in the shower, soaping each other up, and me taking her while she
water was flowing over her petite and perfect form.

The next few days were truly a mix of pleasures, as we spent as much time
together as we could before she had to leave. Many hours we spent naked,
feasting sexually upon each other. But just as many hours were spent doing all
sorts of other things – taking walks, going for drives, even playing video games
together. We spent as much time as friends as we did as lovers, and everything
went spectacularly.

On her last night before going back to Hollywood, we invited the blonde – Tanya
– to join us for a threesome, the first one I had ever been in. Rachael and I
decided together that seeing – and sleeping with – other people would be the
best thing, since our relationship would be anything but exclusive. Not knowing
when we’d see each other again made waiting for sex next to impossible.

Before leaving, Rachael read the story I wrote her, and actually masturbated to
it while I was taking a shower. I came down and caught her with her hands
working over her clit while scrolling over the story. When I finished laughing
over the sight of a Naked Rachael Leigh Cook masturbating to stories on CSSA, I
placed her down on my bed and made love to her one last time.

Rachael promised to come back as soon as her next movie was finished, and I
told her I’d be waiting for her. We trade emails regularly, and she’s even sent
me a few “naughty” pictures of herself. I didn’t bother to ask who took them,
though one included Katie Holmes wearing nothing but a smile, so I wasn’t about
to complain.

Since Rachael left, I’ve started exercising almost regularly. And Tonya is more
than willing to reward me with a blowjob in the sauna when I’m done. Life is
looking pretty damn good. And I owe it all to CSSA.

Who would’ve guessed?

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

END