Cindy Inc.: Done In 60 Seconds

The continuing adventures of Cindy Crawford – model,
actress, mother and celebrity bordello owner. Usual
disclaimers apply. (And in this story we meet Cindy’s
continuing rival, Jennifer Lopez. Apologies to fans of

the bottomy one.)

* * * * * * * * * *

As Cindy Inc. bade another satisfied customer goodbye,
the lady sat back and poured herself a little bracer.
Although Cindy herself wasn’t there every night, those
nights she was there were always rough. Thank God
she limited herself to certain hours. And thank God
those hours were over.

BZZZZZZ. “Talk to me,” said La Crawford on the
speakerphone.

“We’ve got a problem down here, boss,” said Rachel
Stevens. “A big one.”

“Yeah, moley,” shouted another voice. “A BIG one.”

Cindy recognised that voice. Gulping down that drink
and thinking she could have used another one, she
steeled herself to have a head-to-head with Jennifer
Lopez.

Ever since Cindy had told “Self” magazine that she
didn’t feel a backside like Miss Lopez’s would suit
her, there had been no love lost between J-Lo’s people
and Cindy’s, the latter having long since given up
trying to explain to the former that Cindy hadn’t
intended it as an insult and that her comments had
been taken entirely out of context. When Cindy had
opened Cindy, Inc., Jennifer had requested to join as
a full partner; Cindy declined, pointing out that she
had already made successful overtures to enough
partners, but added that she was welcome to join
anyway, after she had gone through the usual
recruitment procedure…

Jennifer’s negative response, coupled with a
suggestion that Cindy go to the Kentucky Derby and
perform an obscene act blending necrophilia and
bestiality, launched a heated exchange of words that
had it not been for the timely intervention of Elle
Macpherson and Charlize Theron would have ended in
bloodshed; the upshot was that a signing war had got
underway, with nearly every famous lady in the US now
claimed by either Cindy C or J-Lo. The latter was
determined to put the former out of business and
become the undisputed Hollywood Madam; fortunately for
Cindy, she had yet to succeed. UNfortunately for
Cindy, Jennifer believed in never giving up. Like now,
for instance.

“What do you want here, J-Ho?” snarled Beyonce
Knowles. “You thinking of throwing in the towel and
joining the winning team?”

“No chance,” Jennifer replied. “And tell Slut Club 7
Rachel there to call off the muscle – I just want to
make a friendly little bet with CC here.”

Nothing about her was friendly (or even little), but
Cindy kept silent as Jennifer handed her a sheet of
paper. “See this list here? You pull it off, I lend
you ten of my girls for a month, your choice, no
restrictions.”

“And if I don’t?” Cindy asked as she finished reading.

“Then you work for me for as long as I see fit. How
about it?”

Cindy looked at Miss Lopez for a second before
answering.

* * * * * * * * * *

“You said YES??!” shouted Claudia Schiffer later.

“Are you scared of a challenge?” Cindy asked. “Because
I’m not.”

“Running the Los Angeles Marathon is a challenge,”
Halle Berry pointed out. “Saying ‘OK, I’ll fuck a
hundred guys before midnight’ is madness! Do you
really think you’ll be able to walk after even ten of
them?”

“She’s a SUPERmodel, forgotten?” Elle Macpherson
sniggered.

“Hold it, hold it… she didn’t actually specify
penetrative sex,” Cindy reminded them. “Plus I don’t
have to go to them – we’ll get them to come here.
Elle,” she continued, slapping her hands together to
signify action, “start rounding up taxis, as many as
you can call up. Halle, get together all the available
ladies and send ’em out to get the guys if the taxis
can’t handle it. Claudia, I’ll need you to give me
some support.”

“You aren’t really going through with this, are you?”
Claudia asked.

“What, do you WANT Elephant-Arse Lopez calling the
shots here?” Elle admonished. That convinced the
German blonde.

* * * * * * * * * *

Anton Levoff answered his door an hour later, to find
Cameron Diaz on the other side. Before he even had
time to be shocked at the sight of one of his
favourite movie stars in the flesh, Cameron had
clutched one of his arms and was dragging him to her
waiting car. “Wha-what is THIS?!” he managed to say as
he was hustled along.

“No time to talk – needed at Cindy – tell you when we
get there!” Cameron rapidly told him, shoving him
inside the passenger area, leaping behind the wheel
and driving off at speed, praying she wouldn’t be
ticketed. Luckily she wasn’t, and even more luckily he
was one of the closer people on Jen’s list. She had
deliberately chosen folk scattered in a wide radius,
challenging them to turn up and get themselves inside
Cindy. The first man had already arrived at the
mansion that housed Cindy, Inc., and he was buried
deep within her snatch.

“Better keep pumping, Cinders,” Jessica Biel, one of
J-Lo’s ladies (she had insisted on having one of her
own there to keep time), chuckled as she started the
countdown from the second the first man plunged
inside. “The clock is ticking…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“One of the hundred,” Cameron gasped as she and Anton
ran inside.

“Welcome to Cindy, Inc.,” said the receptionist, smile
unmoving. “Go right in. Miss Crawford is expecting
you.”

“But I’m married!” Anton protested.

“She’s also rich,” Cameron pointed out as they headed
for Cindy’s boudoir. “Every guy on the list gets $200
just for turning up.”

The person Anton really wanted to put his cock inside
was filming in Australia at the moment, but getting to
poke Cindy Crawford and being paid for it was nothing
to sneeze at. “Am I the first one here…” he stopped
when they entered.

The room looked like the queue for a bank teller’s;
the line snaked through the room, with a naked Cindy
Crawford waiting at the end. Team Cindy looked like
this: Claudia Schiffer was giving moral support, Carol

Vorderman (visiting as part of an exchange programme
with the London branch) was keeping count, Stephanie
McMahon-Helmsley and Kiana Tom were getting the guys
out of there and ensuring no one stayed for seconds
(and paying them), and the aforementioned co-star of
“7th Heaven” was timekeeping.

Cindy had received 24 men into her by this time, and
thus far a total of 80 men had been found and brought
onto the premises; the remaining 20 had been found and
were on the way, some by car and others by helicopter.
The rules were that she had to make the guy come, and
the sex could last anything from three seconds to five
minutes, the longest to date. The 24th man, who had
gone the aforementioned 300 seconds, looked not a
little smug, especially as he was the oldest so far.

“Be sure to come again!” Cindy, ever the lady, called
after him.

“Oh, I will…” he laughed, as Carol called for #25 to
step up. This was Anton, who was still a bit
disbelieving about the whole thing.

“Why are you doing this?”

“For a bet, why do you think?”

“Showoff. I think you should know…”

“No time for interviews,” Kiana interrupted. “Tell the
boss how you want to do it and get started; time’s
a-wasting!”

“That’s just it!” Anton pointed out. “I’m gay! I don’t
know how I got mixed up in this but…”

“And your wife knows about this?” Claudia asked, to
which Anton stroked an invisible beard in reply. She
nodded in understanding.

“But you’ve got to let Miss C fuck you!” Stephanie
pleaded. “Otherwise Jenny Lopez’ll win her bet…”

“You’re up against J-Lo?” Anton asked. “That bitch?
Why didn’t you say so?” And he began to unzip his
trousers.

“You know, if you don’t want to do this a quick
handjob would do,” Cindy suggested.

“Hey, I’ve been hot for guys since I was 10, but I am
so sick of that fatass that if this helps you get one
over her I can stand a bit of pussy,” Anton insisted,
cock out and ready. Without even waiting for the OK,
he instantly thrust into Cindy and began grinding
eagerly; were beggars choosers he would have preferred
Ben Browder, but you gotta take what you can get in
this world. He closed his eyes and pretended he was
rogering good ol’ John Crichton, and then moved onto
her ex (Val Kilmer, that is – he had never liked
Richard Gere)…

* * * * * * * * * *

For Cindy, this was a night she was hoping she could
forget. Some of them had stuck themselves inside her
without ceremony, others had at least made a token
effort at foreplay. She was doing a good job of being
enthusiastic, and so far she had made them all come,
but it was so damn fast!

No. 42 had insisted he eat her out first, which Cindy
welcomed, but the others had been so intent on
hurrying them along that Cindy had been forced to fake
an oral-sex orgasm for only the second time in her
life (she loved giving and getting head, so it hurt
her to do it). But as she consoled herself, it
counted; once again, her fine brunette box had made a
guy come.

No. 52 was the first one to butt-fuck her; this had
caused a delay because no one had brought any kind of
oil along (“You mean it never occurred to any of you
that one of them might want to fuck her in the ass?”
Kiana had spluttered. “God Almighty, have you seen
this woman’s butt? Of COURSE they would!”). But once
it had been found, Cindy soon found herself wishing
she could take a slight break… she was starting to
feel the pressure.

It seemed like her cunt was never being left alone –
in something went, jerked around for a bit then pulled
out, only to be replaced by another one. The hands
that pawed her, the men that kissed her, all were
taking their turns on a seemingly endless carousel.
Cindy tried hard to keep her energy from flagging,
aided by Claudia’s supplying her with constant words
of encouragement and nothing stronger than water
(anything stronger and it might affect her breath).
Add to this the constant blowjobs she was giving to
some of them – she had almost gagged on a few of them
(some of them really needed to WASH!” – and Cindy was
starting to think this might not be worth it…

No. 76 shoved his rod into Cindy’s mouth. “Enjoy it,
Cindy!” he laughed, thinking she was the one receiving
the treat. To be fair, Cindy was grateful that this
one, at least, was clean and not big enough to choke
her; she put as much effort into sucking him as she
had the others. As with everyone after No. 54, she
summoned up the only image that had given her courage
to go on; the sight of Jennifer Lopez sitting on her
face, laughing as she forced Cindy to lick her clit.
The idea of being subservient to HER so incensed the
normally gentle woman that it, more than Claudia’s
moral support or that supplied by the rest, spurred
her on.

And that, coupled with No. 76 having the first cock
she had truly enjoyed tonight, gave her new energy.
“Thanks!” she panted after feeling another surge of
come rush down her throat, and thanking the Lord semen
wasn’t fattening. “Great stuff…”

The others looked at each other. Cindy had thanked the
previous people as well, but this was the first time
tonight she’d sounded as if she really meant it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jennifer Lopez’s limousine was parked outside Cindy,
Inc. She was monitoring the proceedings, and she
wasn’t happy. All the men had been found, and were on
their way to the moled one, and an increasingly awed
Jessica Biel had reported that Cindy Crawford was, if
anything, getting MORE enthusiastic – “I think this
lady just might win, boss,” she had called in with
amazement.

“Not if I can help it,” Jennifer muttered. “Let me
know when the 100th one arrives…”

* * * * * * * * * *

No. 87 was riding Cindy wildly, and she was matching
him every step of the way. The others were keeping an
eye on the time – it was 11.41. This one had lasted
longer than anyone else; he was running his hands all
over Cindy’s fine body, and she was tightening her
pussy around his prick trying to get him to come. But
he was really enjoying the time with her…

“You WANT me to take my time, baby!” he cried. “I know
girls don’t like it when guys hurry…”

“But I NEED YOUR JUICE, KID!” Cindy begged. “I love
feeling a BIG STUD LIKE YOU FILLING ME UP…”

She dragged him down and rubbed herself wildly against
him, one eye on the clock like everyone else…

* * * * * * * * * *

The other ladies were gathering forces, watching as
Cindy expressed her enjoyment of it more and more,
roaring to the heavens as No. 93 slurped at her
snatch. “KEEP IT COMING SONNY BOY! MAMA NEEDS SOME
GOOD LOVING!!!” she yelled, almost weeping with
delight at how his tongue felt. She was almost wishing
Jenny L had made it a thousand men instead of a
hundred.

And as the hundredth man stepped onto the driveway,
the end was in sight. Both for Cindy, who felt another
orgasm rippling through her and was in afterglow as
No. 94 greedily kissed her; and for No. 100, who found
his path blocked by a car with the windows down. “Can
I talk to you for a second?” said the occupant.

“Look, I haven’t got any time to…” he started,
before seeing the end in question. Jennifer Lopez’s
famed backside was right in his face, and the owner
was peering round, hitching up her dress, grinning and
wiggling the cheeks.

“How about it?” she whispered. “You can do anything
you want to my ass, all on the house. All you have to
do is not go in there.”

No. 100 was tempted. Drilling J-Lo’s butt would give
him mucho cred with his friends…

* * * * * * * * * *

Cindy was thrusting away under No. 99, loving his
hands digging into her as the ladies and customers
shouted “GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!” This was the
youngest one here, and he was by far the
longest-lasting one; he was hoping to hell his
girlfriend wouldn’t find out he’d fucked someone old
enough to be her mother (his girlfriend was a somewhat
younger woman). They watched as he lost all control
with the beautiful veteran model, exploding into her
and rubbing against her hard enough to start a fire.

Jennifer Lopez was also exploding, but with rage. It
had never occurred to her that there might exist men
who DIDN’T like anal sex. Or big asses.

* * * * * * * * * *

No. 100 squeezed Cindy’s more manageable rump as he
rotated inside her, Cindy clutching him and bucking
back and forth as the ladies and customers not
participating in the fuck-fest cheered them all on.
Her pussy was soaked with the accumulated come, but
still she matched her latest man; the two kissed again
and again as she teased him with her body, begging and
imploring him to let it out baby let it ALL OUT GIVE
IT TO ME HONEY DAMMIT I WANT IT…

Cindy and No. 100 dropped to the floor, her legs
kicking wildly as she felt herself on the verge… it
was coming… “GODALMIIIIIIGHTYYYYY!!!!!!!!” the
supermodel cried out as the customer’s semen joined
the others that night. He came and came and came, as
if someone had saved the best for last.

Jessica Biel stopped the watch and joined the others
in awe. Cindy may not have scored as highly as Annabel
Chong, but she had come in with ninety seconds to
spare. The crowd broke into applause as the energy
that had driven her was replaced by nothing; Cindy
Crawford finally gave in, and fainted.

* * * * * * * * * *

She slept for the next 22 hours, and came to feeling
as if her front and back doors had been used as the
Channel Tunnel; she felt like she wouldn’t be able to
walk for a week. But the face she saw when she awoke
was what caused the real agony.

“Congratulations, moley,” Jennifer Lopez said,
carrying a red book.

“Cindy Crawford, This Is Your Life!” Carol Vorderman
laughed behind her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could use some coffee – think you and Kiana
could rustle me up some while me and Jenny have a
talk?”

“You’re the boss,” replied the other ubiquitous
brunette with a big bottom in the room, and left, as
Jennifer handed Cindy the book. “Let’s get this over
with – which ones do you want?”

“Forget it,” Cindy told her.

“Yeah, what does she want with the skanks at J-Lo’s?”
Kiana shouted from the other room.

“Ears shut, Kiana! And Jenny… I’m willing to pass on
the use of your girls. Except one.”

Jennifer nodded. “And the one would be…”

Cindy pointed to Jennifer. “And it won’t even be for a
month. Just for one night. Shake on it?”

They shook, as Cindy added, “And you have to do
everything I say.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“I am NOT doing this,” Jennifer grumbled the following
Saturday.

“Okay, I’ll just let everyone know that you’re a liar
and a cheat and that you tried to sabotage the bet and
– ”

Jennifer sighed. “I’ll get you next time, Cindy C,”
she growled.

“You know, some guys get turned on by women pretending
to be cartoon characters… how about doing Betty
Rubble or Penelope Pitstop?” Cindy suggested wickedly.
“Hay-ULP! Hay-ULP!”

“Go go gadget fuck yourself,” Jennifer muttered
indistinctly, and took to the centre of the main area,
eyeing the capacity crowd before the floorshow. She
was going to perform three songs while stripping to
the buff, complete with the first display of her nude
ass to the world. But that wasn’t why she was annoyed
(someone had suggested she and Cindy kiss and make up,
to the horror and disgust of both). It was what she
was about to do.

“Hi, everybody,” she said with a happy smile on her
face. “My name’s Jennifer Lopez, and all the girls at
Cindy, Inc. are better in bed than my pussy posse.
Especially Cindy Crawford.” The crowd was enthusiastic
in their response.

“Oh yeah, and Cindy gives better head than I do,” she
added, glaring at Rachel Stevens (it had been her idea
that she add that line). Cindy curtseyed offstage in
J-Lo’s line of vision, and gave her the thumbs up.

“I bet she does too,” the first customer to start the
word of mouth thought.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Cindy stood in for Kathie Lee Gifford on “Live
with Regis and Kathie Lee,” Regis Philbin told her
that she’s always attached to really good-looking men
(thereby providing a clue as to why Cindy has never
been with Mr. Is That Your Final Answer?) – Gere,
Kilmer, and now her present hubby. He forgot to
mention that they all tended to look pretty pleased
with themselves. Not that Rande could be blamed,
especially at this time.

Cindy sometimes wasn’t in the mood for sex at home,
particularly if it had been a rough day at work.
Happily, tonight she was up for it; they were
thiscloseto signing Britney Spears, her kids had been
as good as gold lately, and she was picking up some
new fans from her new Pepsi ad. She always loved
swallowing her husband’s equipment, and as she enjoyed
Rande’s gurgles of delight while consuming his
tingling rod, she felt things couldn’t get any better
than this. Granted, Cindy Crawford blowjobs were
always a pleasure to give and to receive, but the
better her life was, the better the O levels were.

Her gusto-packed fellatio and his panting as his
wife’s soft, warm mouth did its work didn’t quite
drown out the phone ringing, or the answering machine
taking the message: “Cindy? It’s Jennifer Love
Hewitt… I quit.”

“OhmyGOD!!!!!!” Rande shouted to the ceiling as he
felt his cock starting to boil, vocalising Cindy’s
state of mind at that moment. Unlike him, she had
heard and paid attention to the message…

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END