Celebs Meet CSSA: Shania Twain

Note: The following story is a complete work of fiction. Anything
that happens in it should be taken with a grain of salt. It’s done
in an honorary fashion, meant to compliment the people portrayed
within. No offense was meant. Do not read this story if you are
under 18 years of age, or are opposed to sex between consenting
adults. If you are under 18, you shouldn’t be here anyway. If you’re
opposed to sex, you’re going to have an awfully hard time
procreating in the future. This story is not meant to reflect
honestly on anyone who appears in it. Rachael Leigh Cook, Rose
McGowan, Shania Twain 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:

Shania Twain

By TRL

“You PERVERT!”

It wasn’t exactly the response I’d been hoping for from Shania
Twain.

“What kind of sicko are you?!”

The last thing I’d wanted was for her to be mad – especially to be
mad at me.

“Calm down, would you?” Rose said, getting between me and the irate
form rapidly closing in on me. Considering that Rose was wearing
next to nothing, my pants were around my ankles, and we had been
literally five seconds away from getting it on, it was perhaps the
most inopportune moment for something like this to happen.

“I’ll calm down when this pervert’s behind bars!”

I’m not exactly sure just what shade of white I turned when I heard
those words, but lord knows I was pretty pale – pale enough to make
Rose look positively tanned in comparison.

“Shania, please, calm down,” Rose said, placing her hands on
Shania’s shoulders and physically holding her back from me while I
yanked up my trousers, fumbling with my belt and trying to hide my
rapidly shrinking cock from view.

“What is wrong with your mind?” She said to me. “How can you write
such sick things?!”

My lips flapped uselessly for several seconds before Rose grabbed me
by the arm and pushed Shania back a bit.

“That’s it, you two,” Rose said. “Shania, we’re going to your
dressing room. We’ll deal with this situation there, out of the
prying eyes and ears of the public.”

Normally, my smart-ass self would’ve commented that Rose and I had
snuck underneath the stage in order to be out of the way of prying
eyes and ears in the first place, but I was smart enough not to
argue with her.

“Fine,” Shania said, turning sharply, her form hugging dress
highlighting the curves of her ass so well. “But don’t think you’re
off the hook, TRL-boy,” she muttered.

I knew I wasn’t off the hook, but I was hoping to survive long
enough to slip my neck out of the noose I suddenly found myself in.

* * *

The day had started out about as perfectly as I could ever have
hoped. I awoke on my birthday with Rachael Leigh Cook on one side of
me, and Rose McGowan on the other. We were currently in Rose’s
modest mansion outside of Hollywood, having spent the vast majority
of the night having hot, passionate sex between the three of us. It
was an ideal situation, as far as I was concerned, because really,
who would turn down sex with Rachael and Rose?

I had been dating Rachael for more than a year now, and we’d both
been sleeping with Rose on the side. Occasionally, I’d get the
chance to shack up with Leelee Sobieski when I stayed at Rachael’s
place, but Rose had insisted the two of us spend my Birthday with
her, and I wasn’t going to argue with Rose McGowan – especially when
she mentioned that the attire for most of the weekend was nothing
more than a smile.

And I’d been smiling a LOT.

To be honest, I would’ve taken a threesome with Rose and Rachael as
the ultimate birthday present, but Rachael had other ideas.

I sat down to breakfast an hour later (a five minute shower and
fifty-five minutes of Doggy Style with Rose while Rachael cooked –
not in that order).

“What are these?” I asked, finding a small package at my place as I
sat down.

“Little gift,” Rose said, kissing me on the cheek as she sauntered
over to sit down next to me. “Bit of a gag gift, anyway.”

I tore open the paper to find a stack of business cards.

“What the hell?” I asked, shooting Rose a look.

“Read them,” She insisted.

I looked down and read aloud.

“TRL – Author of Less-Than-Appropriate Fiction – www.C-S-S-A.com”

I laughed as I looked at them. They were missing the CSSA Logo – the
wonderful shot of a naked Victoria off to the side, but I didn’t
mind. There were perhaps fifty of the cards, and I wasn’t going to
argue with something that clever.

“Rose, these are great. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. You can thank me better after breakfast – I might need
someone to scrub my back in the shower.”

“My turn!” Rachael said, handing me a small envelope, which I tore
open at once.

“Concert tickets,” I muttered.

“It’s a benefit concert some people are putting on for the families
of soldiers lost in Iraq,” Rachael said, sitting down next to my and
giving me a quick kiss.

“Yeah,” Rose said, taking the seat on the other side of me. I
glanced over at her milky-white skin, for she’d done little more
than throw a robe on before coming to the table. Sweat still
plastered her raven-black locks to her forehead, and my manhood was
quickly coming back to life at the idea of taking Rose once more
this morning. “Those weren’t easy to get, either. Last two in all of
Los Angeles.”

“Two?” I said, opening up the envelope. Sure enough, two tickets.
“So who gets to come with me?”

“Not me, babe,” Rachael said sadly. “Got some work to do for
‘Fearless,’ all afternoon. Production photos and such. Can’t get out
of it.”

“Rose, I guess it’s just you and me,” I said. “Who’s playing?”

“Nobody I really want to see,” Rose muttered. “But, then again, it’s
not my Birthday.”

“Who’s playing?” I asked again.

“Mostly country music acts,” Rachael said, sipping her orange juice.
“Brooks & Dunn, Lee Ann Womack, Lonestar-”

“Lonestar?” I said, my eyes going wide. “Too cool, I love Lonestar.”

Rose snorted. “Hillbilly.”

“Watch it, you,” I said. “You fucked Marilyn Manson, remember.”

“I’m trying very hard to forget, thank you very much,” she shot
back.

“There’s one other person I think you’d like,” Rachael said.

“Who?” I asked, cutting into my pancakes.

“Shania Twain,” Rachael said with a smirk.

I dropped my fork.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Nope,” Rachael said. “I knew she was one of your favorites, so when
I heard she was going to be performing on your birthday, I made sure
to get you tickets.”

“Ahem,” Rose cut in. “You may have PAID for the tickets, but I was
the one who sent the production assistant to get the tickets.”

“Thank you for contributing, Rose,” I said, reaching over and
squeezing one of her ample tits through her robe.

“Watch the hands, mister,” she muttered. “You break ’em, you’ve
bought ’em.”

“What do you mean, break them?” I shot back. “Those things are as
solid as they come. Best work any god ever did.” I smirked. “And I
should know, I spent half of last night sucking on them.”

“Bastard,” she muttered at me, chucking a grape at me.

“Hey, watch it,” Rachael said. “It’s not nice to throw stuff at the
Birthday boy.”

“So are you coming with me to the concert or not, Rose?” I asked.

“I don’t care for country music,” she said.

“But you do care for fucking us silly, right?” Rachael asked,
draping an arm around my shoulder.

“You know I do.”

“Then you’ll go to the concert,” Rachael smiled.

Rose sighed. “I really should’ve hooked up with that KMB guy. He’d
be happy with just a blowjob for his birthday.”

“Birthday blowjob, eh?” I said, my eyes twinkling.

“Your turn,” Rose said, pointing towards Rachael. “I want to take a
shower before I get all sweaty again.”

I would’ve argued about how that didn’t make any sense, but Rachael
quickly dropped to her knees before me and spread my legs, exposing
my cock. My favorite mouth soon engulfed my rock hard member,
sending warm, wet waves of pleasure sliding up and down my manhood.

It was good to be the birthday boy.

* * *

The door closed behind us, and I gulped silently. I was surprised
Shania’s body guard – a large black man who looked like he would’ve
given any linebacker in the NFL a run for his money – didn’t follow
us in. But she closed the door behind her, leaving the three of us
alone in the dimly lit dressing room.

“You’re a pervert,” Shania said, looking right at me.

“Hang on a second,” Rose said, stepping before me. Quite frankly, I
never expected Rose to risk herself for me unless we were both in a
very arousing sexual situation. “Why do you think he’s a pervert?”

“I visited that site you told me about,” Shania said to me, jerking
a thumb at the laptop that was open on the makeup table. I couldn’t
read quite what it said from where I sat, but I recognized the logo
at the top. Shania Twain had just discovered CSSA.

“You’re TRL,” Shania said, looking right at me, her face an angry
mask of stone. “You wrote those awful stories about me.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rose said before I could speak up in my own
defense. “First of all, my boy toy here didn’t write all those
stories – if you look closely, there are a LOT of authors, and you,
Shania, have a LOT of stories.”

“But he did write some of them,” Shania pointed out.

“Some, yes,” Rose agreed. “But they’re all of higher quality than
most of the others.”

“He made me into a lesbian!” Shania said.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Rose asked.

“I’m NOT A LESBIAN!” Shania hollered. I ducked reflexively at that,
half expecting that mountain of a guard to come bashing through the
door any second now.

“So what, he says right at the top of all his stories that they
aren’t real. It’s a parody. Think of it as a sexualize Weird Al
song.”

“What?” Shania said, her eyes going wide in shock and disgust.

“Try Cledus T Judd,” I whispered to Rose.

“Who the fuck is that?!” She shot back at me.

“Never mind,” I said.

“This is nothing like making a song of mine into a comedy piece!
He’s using my name to make porn!” Shania shouted.

“Is it a bad time to point out that I’m legally allowed to?” I said
quietly.

“You are so not helping you own cause,” Rose muttered back at me.

“Sorry,” I said, wondering again how the best day of my life had
suddenly become my worst.

* * *

I love every inch of Rachael Leigh Cook’s body. Quite frankly, it’s
perfect. From the tip of her toes to the ends of her hair, and all
the lovely skin in-between, it makes me swoon with delight every
time I get to touch it. Her skin is flawless, her curves
intoxicating. Her hair is silky-fine, her lips petal soft. Her
breasts are like ripe melons, begging to be squeezed, and her ass is
the perfect, rounded shape that an ass should be.

Yes, Rachael Leigh Cook’s body is perfect.

Getting to fuck it is almost enough to kill a man.

I was buried to the hilt in Rachael’s snatch when Rose finally got
out of the shower and sauntered over to us, not bothering with so
much as a towel to cover her nudity.

“You two are something else,” she said, sitting down on the bed and
playfully tweaking one of Rachael’s nipples.

“You want to join in?” Rachael asked, panting. “I’m almost done
here.”

“Not until the Birthday boy says so,” I said, pushing harder into
her snatch.

“Tempting,” Rose said, running her fingers through Rachael’s hair.
“But I’ve got some errands to run before I take Mr. TRL out for a
good time. Who knows, maybe we’ll even go to that concert he wants
to see.”

“You’re just upset that it’s not your type of music,” I muttered,
pushing in and out of Rachael a little bit harder. My eyes were
wandering up and down Rose’s naked form, drinking in the exquisite
lines and curves. Her ample breasts were right about eyelevel for me
as I continued to pound Rachael, and I suddenly realized I wasn’t
going to last much longer, either.

“Let’s just put it this way,” Rose said, getting up and circling
around behind me. She lowered her lips until they were right next to
my ear. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday, and you get whatever you
want. Because when it’s MY birthday, I’m going to use you, abuse
you, and drain you dry.”

I took half a second to let my mind ponder the literally trillions
of ways Rose was likely to do so on her birthday before my brain
overloaded, and I reached my limit. I exploded inside of Rachael, my
eyes twisting back in their sockets and mind brain frying about me.
I dropped down on top of Rachael as my body pretty much gave up on
me, orgasmic pulses making me useless.

“Men,” Rose said as she helped Rachael out from underneath me.
“They’re so predictable some times. Turn them on to get their
attention, get them off to get whatever you want.”

“How is that a bad thing?” Rachael asked.

“Who said it was bad?” Rose replied, kissing Rachael gently on the
lips before walking out of the room.

* * *

“Who says sex stories about you are bad?” Rose asked Shania.

“How can it possibly be a good thing?” Shania shot back.

“It can give you fun ideas to try yourself,” Rose offered.

“I AM NOT A LESBIAN!” Shania said, emphasizing every word.

“Nor am I,” Rose said. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t sleep with
other women.”

“I DON’T SLEEP WITH OTHER WOMEN!” Shania cried, raising her arms in
disgust.

“Okay, calm down,” Rose said. “So you haven’t tried batting for the
other team. Nothing wrong with that. There are still lots of stories
about you having sex with guys.”

“None of them my husband,” Shania pointed out.

“Actually, Carnage did a story with you and Mutt fucking a young
singer named Petty in a chapter of HAD,” I said, instantly
regretting even opening my mouth.

“I DON’T SLEEP WITH OTHER WOMEN!” Shania cried again. “And neither
does Mutt!”

“Petty?” Rose asked. “He actually named a girl Petty?”

“What’s wrong with Petty?” I asked.

“What were her parent’s names? Greedy and Slothful?”

“I suppose your parents names were Sunflower and Petunia?” I
replied.

“Don’t get smart with me, boy, I’m the one trying to defend you
here,” Rose said, pointing a finger at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Can we get back to me?!” Shania said.

“Sorry,” Rose and I said together.

“Listen, I’m not going to press charges or anything,” Shania said,
sighing. “But I just don’t want any more stories written about me.”

“Why?” Rose asked.

“Because they’re filthy, that’s why! People shouldn’t be discussing
other peoples sex lives!”

“Were you anywhere near a TV during the Clinton Administration?”
Rose asked.

I snickered at that. Both women shot me a look of disdain, and I
suddenly remembered that Shania wasn’t the one in trouble right now.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. “Mrs. Twain? You’re on in
twenty minutes.”

Shania sighed. “Listen, I need to go get ready – I’ll be pushing it
already just to get into wardrobe. Can you two please wait here
until I get back?”

“Why should we?” Rose asked. “If you’re just going to get him in
trouble, I don’t see any reason for us to stick around.”

Shania shook her head in dismay. “I already said I wouldn’t press
charges. I just want to talk about all of this.”

“Sorry, but as soon as you’re out the door, we’re gone. And don’t
even think of locking us in here, either. I’m a big celebrity, and I
can call on as many lawyers as you can.”

Shania shook her head. “There’ll be no lawyers. I just want to talk.
What can I say that will get the two of you to stay?”

I was about to say a few thousand dollars and a couple of autographs
would do it for me, but Rose spoke first.

“We’ll stick around to listen to what you have to say, as long as
you’re willing to listen to what WE have to say. A full trade,
nothing less.”

“Agreed,” Shania said, standing up and heading towards the door. “By
the way, what’s your name?” Shania asked, looking right at me.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Rose slammed her foot down on my
toes.

“You can just call him TRL. That’s what the rest of us call him.”

Shania gave a look that was unreadable, then quickly walked out of
the room.

Hopping on one foot and shooting Rose dirty looks, I began to wonder
just how worse the day could get.

* * *

“This day can not get much better,” I said. Lonestar had just
finished up their set, and Rose and I were walking about the side
lot area, grabbing something to eat. Lee Ann Womack, who was never
really one of my favorites, was on stage now, and Rose had been more
than happy to get up in search of food.

“You are so lucky you’re good in bed, mister,” she muttered from
behind her dark glasses. “There is no way in hell I’d be here
otherwise.”

“Oh, come on, Rose,” I said, taking a sip of soda. “You really
aren’t having THAT bad a time, are you?”

“You tell me, buddy. I don’t like the music, I don’t like the
atmosphere, I’m wearing sunglasses INDOORS to hide my identity, and
no one who’s been on stage has been the least bit attractive.”

“Shania’s coming up in an hour or so. You can’t tell me you don’t
find her at least a bit attractive.”

“Shania Twain?” Rose said. “I’d fuck her any which way she asked,
and then a few other ways. But she hasn’t been on stage yet, and I’d
still rather see her in my bed then on stage.”

“Party Pooper,” I muttered.

“You really want to party?” Rose asked. She stopped me and pointed
across the way from where we stood to a pair of young girls, neither
more than 19 years old. They both wore Shania Twain T-shirts, short
shorts, and giggled uncontrollably. One had sandy brown hair; the
other flowing long dark locks. Either one could’ve been a playmate,
and both looked like they were filling out their t-shirts more than
they needed to. “Give me fifteen minutes alone with those two, and
I’ll show you a party.”

“You’re going to get two women to agree to a foursome in fifteen
minutes?” I asked, incredulously.

“If I don’t, you can fuck my ass all night long,” she replied.

“Rose, you enjoy anal sex more than I do,” I pointed out.

“Oh, alright. If I don’t get them to agree to party with us, you can
tie me to a chair and fuck Rachael up the ass all night long,
leaving me only to watch and not to participate.”

That got me, and it got me good. There was nothing in the world Rose
hated more than being left out of sex. My last trip to LA had her
fuming when she found out that Rachael and I had been fucking Leelee
Sobieski without her. I’d spent a full night tied to a bed while
Rose and Rachael made love to each other on top of me, neither one
spending enough time touching my rod to get me off, but Rose never
allowing Rachael to get off either.

The girls were cute, to be sure, and I certainly wouldn’t mind
getting either one in the sack. “All right,” I said. “Fifteen
minutes. The clock starts now.”

For fifteen minutes, Rose spoke with the girls. Early on, it was
just a conversation. Five minutes in, Rose was gently touching the
brunette on the arm, or patting the brown haired girl on the back.
Ten minutes in, all three were hanging off each other. At exactly
fourteen minutes and ten second, Rose placed a large kiss on the
lips of one girl, then moved to the next, her hand pressed firm
against the girl’s breast.

Amazed, I walked over as Rose waved to me.

“All right,” I asked as the two girls lead us backstage. “How’d you
do that?”

“Magic,” Rose replied. “You get a girl turned on enough, and she’ll
do anything for you.”

Suddenly, we were outside a dressing room. “Is it safe in here?” I
asked.

“It is,” Julie – the darker haired girl said. Her nipples were
straining at her T-shirt, ready to burst through the fabric.

“We work here,” Alicia, the sandy haired one, replied, opening the
door. Rose followed them, and I was about to enter when Rose turned
around and pressed a hand to my chest.

“Hang on, big boy. We never discussed what would happen if I got
them.”

“We’d fuck them and have fun,” I replied, watching over Rose’s
shoulder as Julie stripped off her shorts. She wore nothing
underneath, and my already hard member began to ache inside my
pants.

“I think you owe me. So I’ll get them warmed up, while you wait out
here.”

“What?!” I cried.

“See you in fifteen,” Rose said with a nasty grin before closing the
door in my face. The last thing I saw before the door closed was
Alicia taking Julie in her arms and sucking on one of her nipples.

“Rose!” I called out, pounding on the door. “Damn it Rose, you can’t
do this to me!”

* * *

“Damn it, Rose, you can’t do this to me,” I said, trying to get up.
Rose was having none of it, pressing me down with her knees as she
secured my prone form to the small bed in Shania’s dressing room.

One of these days, I’ve got to learn to stop letting the little head
do all the thinking when Rose’s around. With promises of a quick
blowjob to take the stress off, I had popped up on Shania’s bed and
allowed her to slide my pants down to my ankles and all the way off.
She’d crawled up my body, placing kisses as she went, and generally
made my as horny as possible before surprising me with handcuffs out
of her purse! I’d known they were there, but never expected her to
use them on me when we were in a situation like this.

“Sorry, birthday boy,” she said, patting my enlarged manhood as she
slid off me. “But if all goes well, you’ll be able to enjoy yourself
after I’ve gotten done with Shania.”

To be fair, I should’ve seen it coming. Rose enjoyed a little
bondage from time to time – she’d once tied up Leelee Sobieski for
six hours, gently teasing her crotch with a feather or wet washcloth
while she forced her captive to watch home videos of me and Rachael
making love around the apartment. The fact that Rose had handcuffs
in her bag wasn’t surprising, nor that she’d pull a stunt like this
to me – what she did with the two girls earlier was evidence enough
of that last fact.

“Rose, please!” I begged. “You can’t seduce Shania like you did
those girls earlier! She’s already convinced we’re perverted
freaks!”

“Speak for yourself, writer boy. She thinks YOU’RE a perverted
freak. I’m just Rose McGowan, traditional Hollywood bad girl with a
vice list longer than your arm.”

“Please, Rose, at least wait until you KNOW you’ve seduced her
before you tie me up.”

“Nope,” Rose said, placing a hand on my crotch and stroking once,
twice, three times before letting go. I was about to protest again,
but Rose quickly stuffed a rag in my mouth, stifling any noise
coming out of me. She pulled out the folding modesty wall that
separated the bed from the rest of the dressing room. “Wait there
until the concert’s over. Then, give me twenty minutes, and you’ll
see that I’m right.”

And so, I lay there for another hour, my cock going through various
stages of arousal – flaccid, painfully erect, and somewhere in the
middle. Rose was doing something outside, clearly getting ready for
Shania to return.

I could make out some of the songs being played somewhere well above
me – “Man, I Feel Like A Woman,” “Up!” and “The Woman in Me,” were
all clearly audible, and I was sure I heard her doing her own
version of “Don’t Let Me Be The Last To Know,” the song she’d
written for Britney Spears. I was missing one hell of a concert.
Rachael would be pissed when she found out – she wanted me to enjoy
the concert, not spend it tied to a bed while Rose tried to seduce
one of the biggest names in the music world.

Finally, after more than an hour and a half, I heard the thundering
applause that signaled the end of Shania’s concert. Thirty-five
minutes later, I heard the key in the door.

“Showtime,” Rose said, and I could just hear the smirk in her voice.

* * *

“Rose, it’s almost showtime!” I called out, still pounding on the
door. Fifteen minutes my ass – she’d been in there with those girls
a good thirty already. Above us somewhere, Le Ann Womack had
finished her set, and Rascal Flats was starting their set. As soon
as they were done, Shania was up, and I wasn’t going to miss that
waiting for rose to fuck around with two little bimbos, denying me
any of her excess sex.

“Is it almost showtime?” a voice asked from behind me. “I thought we
still had a good hour or so-”

I turned around to see who was talking and slammed face fist into
Shania Twain. We both landed with a plop on the floor, my head
banging against the wall, her skirt rising up enough to briefly
expose the silky red panties she was wearing to me.

“Oh my god,” I said, my eyes going wide. I bolted up and raced over
to help Shania up. “I am so sorry, Miss Twain. I didn’t realize you
were there!”

“It’s okay,” she said as I pulled her to her feet. Shania was
surprisingly shorter than I expected, but in my book, that only made
her a hundred times more attractive. Her long brown hair was tied
back in a ponytail and she wore a denim jackets and matching short
skirt – with, apparently, red panties on underneath.

“Are you all right?” I asked, trying to brush her off as she stood
under her own power.

“Oh, yes,” she said, smiling at me. I blinked hard and smiled back.
I’d seen Shania smile before, of course, but always in pictures or
on TV – never in person. I found myself hypnotized by that smile,
wishing there was some way I could live off that smile, forever
being able to watch and bask in the light it gave.

“What about you?” she asked, looking me over.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Your head,” she said. “You bumped it pretty bad just a moment ago.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” I said, trying hard not to allow the painfully
erect lump in my pants to show too much. “It’s not like I really use
that or anything.”

She smiled at me and playfully swatted me on the arm. I was
instantly in love with her.

“I’ve heard that one before,” she said. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Twain. I’m fine.”

“Please, call me Shania. Everyone else does – even my husband!”

Oh, that word hurt – cutting deep into my newly enchanted heart like
a thousand razor blades. Husband. What a nasty, disgusting word. I
wanted the man dead at once.

“You dropped something,” Shania said, bending down at the knees,
denying me the pleasure of seeing her perfect ass reaching towards
the sky. I was still plotting how to bump off Mutt Lange when I
realized just what it was she was picking up.

One of the new “business cards” Rose had given me earlier. I’d
stuffed a few into my pockets, intent on leaving them on some
bulletin boards around town to perhaps drive a little more traffic
CSSA’s way. Not that I really thought such an idea would work, but I
had to do something with the cards, and I couldn’t really think of
anything better.

And now, Shania Twain held one of my brand new TRL – CSSA cards in
her hand, looking it over with a puzzled look.

“What’s CSSA?” she asked, “Some new show on MTV?”

“Huh?” I blinked, then realized what she was getting at.

“TRL is the countdown show on MTV, right? Is CSSA a new spin off of
that?”

My mind flushed with any chance to run with that, trying to come up
with new acronyms for CSSA – stuff like “Celebrity Street-Cred
Showdown Awards,” or “Caught Stargazing Super Athletes.” But before
I could come up with anything clever, Shania had already figured
part of it out.

“Wait a second, it says here ‘Writer of Less-Than-Appropriate
Fiction’ – what does that mean?”

“It’s a joke,” I said. I wasn’t exactly lying – the CARD was a joke
gift from Rose, after all.

“So TRL is your initials.”

“You could say that,” I muttered, looking around for any sign of
help. There was none, so I had to tell the truth – of sorts.

“It’s a website I contribute to,” I said. “Fan fiction, mostly.”

“Really?” Shania said, smiling at me warmly. I’d never seen a more
affectionate smile – not even Rachael had ever made me feel so
instantly acceptable just by smiling. I felt my knees tremble again,
as I pressed forward in lying to Shania Twain.

“Mostly TV shows and movies,” I said, suddenly getting inspired. In
a sense I was describing TSSA, CSSA’s sister website. I was just
leaving out the fact that all the stories there were based on sex. I
was suddenly very glad that the cards DIDN’T have the naked woman
logo next to them – that would’ve gotten me into a lot more trouble.

“What kind of shows do you write about?” She asked.

Having been a nerd all my life, I know there are certain subjects
that will turn a woman off and make her just think you sad no matter
how interesting they think you are. Shania was the ultimate
definition of a kind, interested woman who just wanted to get to
know me better, making her the perfect person to seal my little lie
with.

“Mostly Sci-Fi,” I said, smiling as I saw that subtle little change
in her milk chocolate colored eyes. “Star Trek, Babylon 5, a little
Star Wars,” I said, knowing at once that Shania would be loosing
interest any second now, if she hadn’t already.

But then I went one TV show too far, and I screwed myself big time.

“And I’ve dabbled a bit in ’24’ fanfic, too.”

“’24?'” Shania asked at once. “I love that show!”

I blinked hard. “Y-yeah, me too,” I muttered.

“What kind of story did you write?” she asked me.

“Uh, it wasn’t anything, really,” I said, trying very hard to think
of any way out of this situation. “I mean, it was just fan fiction.”

“Come on, you can tell me about it,” Shania said, smiling at me.
Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been doing cartwheels at
the very thought of Shania Twain asking me about my writing.
However, considering that I was talking about a story that I hadn’t
written, and that if she looked too closely at the card she’d
realize the web address was right there, I was a nervous wreck. All
she needed to do was have one of her people look up the website, and
she’d not only discover that I was lying, but that I’d written a few
stories about HER – having sex with Faith Hill, the Dixie Chicks,
and several other country music stars, all women.

It was a good thing I’d gone to the bathroom earlier, because if I
hadn’t, I would’ve been making a mess on the floor at that moment.

“It – it was nothing,” I said, scrambling to back track.

“At least tell me what the story was about,” Shania said, giving me
a cross between puppy-dog eyes and bedroom eyes. It was a deadly
combination, and had she been asking me to do anything within my
power (stop moving traffic by jumping out into it, father her next
child, find a cure for cancer) I would’ve done it. However, I’d
never written at 24 story, and that was what she was adamant about
hearing the details of.

“Well,” I said, scrambling for a plot idea – ANY plot idea. I cursed
Rose for abandoning me like this – I would’ve given anything to be
in that room banging a couple of cute chicks instead of out here
about to make a complete fool of myself in front of Shania Twain.

“Come on,” Shania said. “Tell you what, if you tell me about the
story, I’ll take a picture or two with you.”

“It’s about Kim,” I said instantly, and instantly regretted it.
After watching the second season, I was beginning to think Kim was
perhaps the least important character on the show.

“What about her?” Shania asked, still smiling. Didn’t she have a
concert or something to go to? How did I rank as important enough to
spend several minutes grilling in a hallway with her?

“It, uh, takes place before the start of the second season,” I said,
making it all up on the fly. “It deals with how she got the au pair
job, and how much she misses her mother and stuff like that.”

“Interesting,” Shania said, still smiling. “What happens?”

“What do you mean, what happens?” I said. Christ, one of the biggest
women in music was giving me the second degree in plotlines!
Something was seriously wrong with the world.

“How’d she get the job?” Shania asked.

I took a deep breath, my mind scrambling for ideas. Anything that
might sound like a good story – and all I could think of was Kim
Bauer having sex with Shania Twain to get the job of a roady. I was
spending far too much time writing erotic fiction these days.

Shania was looking at me expectantly, and I finally just leapt at an
idea.

“The father,” I said.

“The father?” Shania asked. “You mean the guy who tried to kill Kim
about a dozen times?”

“Yeah, only at first he wasn’t going to kill Kim. He wanted to sleep
with her,” I said. I almost slapped myself in the head – I WAS
spending too much time writing erotica these days.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Shania said. “In the first episode he was
checking her out like she was his live-in sex partner or something.”

“There you go,” I said, smiling as convincingly as I could. “He did
it all for the nookie.”

Shania giggled a bit at that, and my heart fluttered.

“Well, that sounds like a cool story, ‘TRL,'” She said, smiling at
me and reaching out to take my hand. “I hope writing works out for
you.”

“Me too,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“It was nice meeting you,” She said, waving as she walked off down
the hall. Taking a very deep breath, I watched her go, managing to
marvel at just how shapely her ass was. I’d survived that close call
without getting myself into some deep shit. Now, if only Rose would
open the door, I could relieve some of my tensions by partaking in a
pair of lovely young ladies.

* * *

As I lay tied to the bed, just out of view, I silently prayed that
whatever game Rose was up to, it involved getting Shania out of the
room and setting me free. However, knowing Rose as well as I did, I
doubted this would be the case.

“Where’d your friend the writer go?” Shania asked quietly as she
shut the door behind her.

“He’s around,” Rose said. “But I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Listen, I’m sorry I jumped at you two,” Shania said. “I’m not
really going to press charges or anything – lord knows a lot of guys
probably think I’m sexy enough to fantasize about – your friend just
wrote those fantasies down.”

“That’s a good way to look at it,” Rose said. “Oh, your shoulders
are so tense.”

That last sentence made me blink. What was Rose up to?

“You’re very tight back here, Shania,” Rose continued.

“I get like that after a show.”

“How do you work it out?”

“Exercise, maybe a massage, occasionally I go swimming.”

“Ever masturbate?” Rose asked. I nearly choked to death at that.

“W-what?” Shania stumbled.

“It’s okay, Shania, it’s just you and me. I masturbate. I masturbate
a lot, especially after performing.”

“But-”

“But what?” Rose asked. “There’s nothing wrong with it, and it’s a
great way to relieve stress.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it,” Shania agreed. She was hesitant
though, and I half expected her to cry out for her bodyguard to
remove Rose at once. Finding me – my pants around my ankles and my
hands tied above my head – while lying on her bed with a major hard
on would probably be the last straw. I tried hard not to imagine
what the giant football-player bodyguard would do to me if he found
me like this. I fully expected my manhood to be ripped right off my
body, and the bloody remains tossed to a pack of hungry dogs.

Pushing that image out of my head, I tried to hear what Rose was up
to with Shania. Their voices had gotten softer, and I could hear the
tone of flirting that so frequently filled Rose’s voice when she was
trying to have her way with Rachael or me.

“There’s nothing wrong with it at all,” Rose whispered, her voice
just where I could hear it. “Do you want me to show you how it’s
done?”

“I-I don’t know,” Shania whispered back. “I’ve never done anything
like this before.” I didn’t buy that for a moment – if Shania Twain
had never masturbated in her life, then I’d never had naughty
thoughts about Britney Spears. The chances were next to nothing.

“Here, let me help you out of that,” Rose said. I heard some
shifting – a chair sliding back, a rustle of clothing, a slight gasp
escaping from someone’s lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” Shania whispered again.

“Just put your hand there. Yes, that’s it. Just like that.”

“It feels good.”

“I know.

“What now?”

“Add a finger.”

“Yes.”

“Harder. Press harder.”

“Yes.”

“Harder. HARDER!”

“YES!”

“Faster!”

“Oh god, I never knew-”

“FASTER!” Rose screamed. I blinked hard. Was Rose really supervising
Shania Twain’s first ever masturbatory experience? My rock hard
member stood straight up, the skin tingling and heat pulsating out
of it.

And then she screamed – an earth shattering, orgasmic scream that I
thought would send the guard rushing in. My own member strained hard
to feel any kind of pressure against it, as the sounds had turned me
on more than I’d ever been before.

But it hadn’t been Shania screaming in orgasmic bliss.

It had been Rose.

* * *

I had waited outside that door for another fifteen minutes or so
before Rose finally exited. Her hair was a bit off, and she smelled
of sex. She had a hint of post-coital gaze in her eyes, but she
smiled seductively at me as I blocked her exit.

Rose, though, look positively frigid compared to the two spent girls
laying naked on the floor. Only by seeing their chests rise and fall
did I know they were alive, and both were covered in enough sweat
and cum to look like they hadn’t seen a shower in months.

“Guess I got carried away,” Rose said, smiling at me.

“And what about me?” I said. There was no use looking after the
girls – they were lost to the world, and would be for some time.

“You?” Rose asked innocently. “What ever do you mean.”

“Hello,” I said, pointing at the solid rock in my pants I was now
sporting. “I thought you and I were going to share?”

“You know what?” Rose said. “That’s a great idea. Why don’t you
share that cock of yours with me?”

“What about them?” I asked, jerking my thumb back at the two
unconscious girls.

“They were good, for straight girls,” Rose said, naughtily. “Still,
after all that tongue work, I could use a good stiff one right now.”
She reached down and grabbed my cock through my shorts. “Oh!” She
said in mock surprise. “Here’s one now!”

Never argue with Rose McGowan – especially if she’s got you
literally by the balls.

Five minutes later, we were making out literally underneath the
stage of the concert, Rose’s top already gone, her milky-white
breasts barely visible in what little light there was. My hands ran
over those glorious breasts, manhandling them for all they were
worth. Her nipples poked into my palms, and her lips favored me with
girl-cum flavored kisses.

Rose slid my pants down my legs, leaving nothing but simple cotton
fabric between her and my penis. She had just been reaching for my
boxers, ready to spring my straining manhood when everything went to
hell.

The door to the under-stage area burst open, bright light flooding
over us. Rose covered her chest as two stagehands, and most
menacingly, Shania’s bodyguard came storming in to where we were.

“I told you I saw them go in here,” the bodyguard said over his
shoulder. He caught one look at rose and blinked hard. “Is that Rose
McGowan?”

And suddenly, Shania was in the doorway. Long gone was her friendly
smile, her warm and inviting demeanor, and her enchanting eyes. In
place of all that was the look of a woman who was VERY upset.

“YOU PERVERT!” She cried, pointing at me, ignoring Rose all
together.

It wasn’t exactly the response I’d been hoping for.

“What kind of sicko are you?!” Instantly, I knew what had happened.
Shania Twain had internet access in her dressing room, and had
decided to check out my “24” story. And, when she hadn’t found it,
she’d evidently gone looking for my screen name anyway.

And I was suddenly screwed.

“Calm down, would you?” Rose said, getting between me and the irate
form rapidly closing in on me. Considering that Rose was wearing
next to nothing, my pants were around my ankles, and we had been
literally five seconds away from getting it on, it was perhaps the
most inopportune moment for something like this to happen.

“I’ll calm down when this pervert’s behind bars!”

“Shania, please, calm down,” Rose said, placing her hands on
Shania’s shoulders and physically holding her back from me while I
yanked up my trousers, fumbling with my belt and trying to hide my
rapidly shrinking cock from view.

“What is wrong with your mind?” She said to me. “How can you write
such sick things?!”

My lips flapped uselessly for several seconds before Rose grabbed me
by the arm and pushed Shania back a bit.

“That’s it, you two,” Rose said. “Shania, we’re going to your
dressing room. We’ll deal with this situation there, out of the
prying eyes and ears of the public.”

“Fine,” Shania said, turning sharply, her form hugging dress
highlighting the curves of her ass so well. “But don’t think you’re
off the hook, TRL-boy,” she muttered.

* * *

It had been a long, strange trip to where I was now. I was tied,
half naked, to a bed while Rose McGowan apparently was getting off
just out of my view. Shania Twain was there, too, and the last I
knew, she’d been more than a little upset with me.

Oddly enough, the only thought running through my head at that
moment was that NO ONE, not even the guys on the CSSA board, would
believe THIS story.

The sounds emanating from beyond the folding privacy wall were those
of two women in some state of sexuality. Knowing Rose the way I do,
she would no doubt be turned on to no end, and trying desperately to
get within Shania’s pants. And, from the sounds of it, she might
have been succeeding.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” I heard Shania whisper.

“I have,” Rose said, her voice far more confident than Shania’s.

I knew Rose was playing. She could have Shania on the floor by now,
fucking her brains out. Rose had that kind of power over people. I
consider myself lucky she’ll even accept my penis inside her when
she could have any man she wanted. Shania may have been older, may
have been married, may have been straight, but the more I thought
about it, the more I knew she was no match for a horny Rose McGowan.

Unfortunately, neither was I. I couldn’t remember ever having a
worse case of blue balls in my life – I wanted to cum, I needed to
cum. The sounds of lips kissing behind the screen started to drive
me wild. The occasional lusty moan or erotic gasp made me break out
in a sweat. The fact that I KNEW Rose was savoring Shania just out
of view in order to drive me nuts made me strain at my bonds.

“Its time, Shania,” Rose’s whispering voice wafted over to me. “I
want to make love to you. I want to show you just how sexy another
woman’s touch can be.”

They weren’t doing it yet?! My eyes went wide, wondering just what
the hell was going on. I would’ve thought that the two of them were
all hot and sweaty by now, from the sounds reaching me. Rose had
gotten off, for crying out loud! I knew Rose could practically come
on command, but I’d never known her to do it without at least a
little finger work on her clit.

“I don’t know,” Shania said, hesitantly. “I’m – I’m-”

“No more excuses,” Rose’s voice commanded. I head the distinct sound
of lips smacking, and then Shania moaned. My penis was dying.

Then, everything went silent for several long seconds. If I had
thought being forced to hear Rose McGowan and Shania Twain having
sex was torturous enough, the idea of NOT hearing them was even
worse. It was like knowing the extra lung you needed for transplant
was just around the corner, but you weren’t allowed to have it.

An eternity seemed to pass, with me not knowing what was happening.
My mind ran ragged, trying to imagine any sex act Rose could do
without noise – I came up with exactly none. Rose LIKED to make
noise when having sex.

“I – I’m sorry,” Shania suddenly said, making me jump slightly. “I,
I just can’t do it. I’ve only been with men. I’m used to their being
a penis nearby.”

“What if I told you there was,” Rose asked, her soft voice a combo
of erotic compulsion and nymphish curiosity.

“What do you mean,” Shania asked. It sounded like she was slightly
out of breath.

“It means that if you could have a penis inside you, would you want
to go further?”

“Yes,” Shania hissed.

“Get up,” Rose commanded. I heard some rustling, and suddenly, the
sliding wall was thrown back, revealing one of the most erotic
sights I’ve ever seen.

I knew Rose’s naked form like the back of my hand. The silky soft
skin, the swell of her breasts, the nipples that never got soft. I
knew the way her hair cascaded down her back, I knew the way her
legs stretched when she walked, I knew the way her pussy lips
trapped a cock like vice grips. And despite all that, Rose was still
a sight to behold each time I saw her perfect nudity before me.

Shania, though, was nearly a complete unknown to me. I had seen
pictures, watched the videos, and drooled over her image. Be it in
chaps and a cowboy hat or a Gucci dress that clung to her curves,
she was the perfect beauty. Classy, yet playful. Simplistic, yet
erotic. Warm and inviting, distant and aloof. Shania Twain was the
ultimate woman.

Naked, she was a goddess.

Shania’s breasts, easily a 36 D cup if they existed at all, were
perfectly perky, righteously round, and enticingly erect. Her
nipples, the perfect size to match the rest of her tits, stuck out
like beacons drawing traffic in towards themselves. I had always
wondered how Shania held up some of her clearly bra-less outfits –
now I knew it was because she was more than ample enough to do so on
her own “merits”

The famous midriff of Shania Twain was all it was claimed to be. She
may have had a child in the last year or so, but to look at that
flawlessly tight tummy, you’d never guess it. You could bounce
quarters off her belly, and I wanted nothing more than to run my
tongue up and down it. The skin was completely without marks, and
the way it moved as she breathed was almost hypnotic.

Shania’s legs were the legs of a dancer – tight and trim, with not
one spec of cellulite on them. Her thighs looked like they could
crush steel beams between them. Her arms were beautifully
proportioned, and the skin looked silky smooth upon them. I wanted
nothing more than to feel them wrapped around my back.

But if there was one feature on Shania’s nude body that was sure to
draw attention, it was her crotch.

For her glistening wet pussy lips were crowned by a small,
heart-shaped patch of light brown pubic hair. I was instantly in
love.

And Rose knew it.

“Here’s a penis,” Rose said, ignoring the wide-eyed look Shania was
giving her. “Use it.”

“W-what?” Shania gasped.

“I don’t want to stop, Shania,” Rose said, suddenly pulling the
singer close to her – close enough for their breasts to come into
contact. Shania gasped, but Rose hushed her instantly. “And if the
only way for you to enjoy yourself with me is to include a guy, then
I guess it’s a good thing I brought one along. Now, do you want to
continue?”

“Yes,” Shania whispered as Rose ran a hand through her hair.

“Then hop on,” Rose said with a wicked smile as she motioned towards
me. “Trust me, he’ll enjoy it.”

Shania looked at me, a wide range of emotions going over her face. I
suddenly felt VERY vulnerable, laying handcuffed and gagged on a
bed, with perhaps the hottest woman in the music industry staring
down at my naked body, sizing me up for a possible fuck.

Sometimes, I wonder just how strange my life can get.

“O-okay,” Shania said slowly, moving over to me. She reached down
and placed her hands on my stomach, gently feeling my skin. I went
rigid – my cock twitched at the fingers almost a good foot away from
where it was standing straight up.

“Go on,” Rose said to Shania. “He’s all yours. And you’re all mine.”

Shania looked back at her, then slowly climbed up on to the bed.

It was as if one of my most erotic dreams had come true. A very
naked, very horny, Shania Twain was climbing over my body, prepared
to use me for her own pleasures. As she straddled my waist with her
legs, she leaned down on top of me. I felt her nipples brush my skin
– the heart-shape pubic hairs tickled the tip of my rock hard
member.

“I want this,” Shania whispered in my ear. “I want you to live out
every fantasy you ever had about me while you’re lying there.
Because this will never, EVER, happen again.”

And with that, Shania Twain lowered her steaming wet crotch down on
to me.

It took every possible ounce of self-control I had not to explode
right there. Shania’s pussy was soft, tight, and warm. If she’d had
a child in the last year, she must have been doing some strange
exercise to tighten her vaginal muscles – they gripped my manhood
like gloves just a bit too small. Her wetness – inspired by Rose –
made her effort to slide down over me that much easier. The heat
pumping out of her box was hot enough to melt steel.

It took six small thrusts for Shania to slide my entire length up
into her – six thrusts of pure heaven. Then, once she was settled,
she lay forward once more and kissed me gently on either cheek.

“Now, where were we?” Rose said as Shania pulled up and away from my
head, her crotch still enveloping me perfectly. “I remember,” Rose
said, snapping her fingers. “We were right here.”

With that, Rose leaned forward and started kissing Shania. It was no
small peck of a kiss, like what Shania had given me. This was
passionate, lustful kissing. I could tell their tongues were
mingling inside Shania’s mouth, and I saw Rose’s hands rise up to
Shania’s breasts, squeezing them hard.

Shania gasped slightly, breaking the kiss, but then turn her
attention back to Rose. One of Shania’s hands landed on my chest for
support, while the other reached up and tentatively started playing
with Rose’s magnificent globes.

In retrospect, I should’ve been quite thankful for all the sex I’d
had earlier with Rose and Rachael. After all, their continuous
pumping of my seed during the last day or so had me running closer
to empty, thus allowing me to last longer in the sack. Otherwise,
the mere sight of Rose McGowan making out with Shania Twain would’ve
brought forth a huge rush of cum.

And then, Shania started humping me.

It was slow at first, as difficult as it is for any woman to be on
top with only on hand to support her, while making out with another
woman. Okay, that doesn’t happen all that often, but I knew Rachael
always started slow when Rose started making out with her while
riding me, so to me, it made perfect sense. But after a few moments
of hesitant lifting and sliding back down my engorged member, Shania
started to build some speed.

And once again, it became the best day of my life.

I’d like to say that we went on like that for hours, days even. I’d
like to say I completely satisfied Shania before moving on to Rose.
I’d like to say we brought the singer home to share with Rachael and
Leelee.

But none of that happened. I lasted maybe six or seven minutes
before I could hold back no more, shooting the most desperately
needed load of my life deep into Shania’s eager folds. Rose’s finger
tips brought Shania the rest of the way, as she ran them over
Shania’s clit while my softening cock slowly slipped out of the
country music sensation’s crotch.

Shania and Rose fell to the floor afterwards, where the true lesbian
sex began, Rose taking no more protests from Shania. Rose went down
on Shania like a woman possessed, licking and sucking on the other
woman’s slit until she exploded like fireworks, writhing on the
floor just barely in sight of me on the bed.

It was a good half an hour after that before I was finally untied.

* * *

“Listen, I’m sorry I called you a pervert,” Shania said to me as I
pulled my shoes back on. She was clad only in a simple silk robe
that left very little to the imagination – and, having seen what lay
beneath, I could fill in the blanks quite nicely.

“No problem,” I said, my eyes lingering on the tasty view of
Shania’s cleavage.

“See, you aren’t a lesbian Shania, but you can appreciate sex with
women now,” Rose said. Rose was back into her sultry little outfit,
but she’d lost her bra and panties somewhere along the line – I
suspected they were back in a tangle of clothes with the two girls
she’d done earlier.

“I never imagined doing anything like that,” Shania said. “I’m glad
I didn’t have you two arrested.”

“Me too,” I said. “They use guys like me for currency in the
slammer.”

“You know that joke’s older than you are, right?” Rose muttered.

“What do you want? I’ve had a busy birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” Shania asked.

“Yep,” I said, smiling.

“Well, let me give you one more present before you go, then.”

She walked over to me, allowing her robe to slide a bit open,
exposing her tits to me. As I stared dumbfounded, she gently grabbed
my head and pulled my mouth to hers. We kissed for several long
seconds – long enough for my lungs to burn with need. I could feel
her breasts pressed against my chest, only the fabric of my shirt
between us.

When she finally broke this kiss, she pulled me into a hug and
whispered into my ear, just loud enough to hear over my panting.

“Happy birthday,” she said. “Don’t stop writing about me. It’ll keep
me turned on.”

My eyes went wide, and I stood dumbfounded for several long moments.
I’m not even sure how I said goodbye to her – the next thing I
really remembered was Rose pushing me into the car, saying something
about men only thinking with their little heads.

That kiss and those words were EXACTLY the response I wanted from
Shania Twain.

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