Crow’s Feet

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, have something against non-consensual sex, or are opposed to lesbian sex between consenting women. If you are under 18, you shouldn’t be here anyway. If you are opposed to non-consensual sex, good for you, but you might want to skip this story. 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. Sheryl or anyone else mentioned in this story DOES NOT behave like this in person – but it would be totally cool if she did!

Author’s Note: This story was almost a stream on consciousness type story – I didn’t set out to write what was written, I just started off with a title and Sheryl Crow for inspiration. A couple of months later, this is what I had. I like to think of it as an experiment, though it’s up to you, the reader, to decide if it was a successful experiment or not. I hope you enjoy! -TRL

Crow’s Feet


They were there all right. No getting around them now. Forty years old, and those little lines were forming around her eyes. She didn’t feel old enough to have Crow’s Feet yet. Was forty too young for such things? Her mother hadn’t gotten hers until she was at least five years older than she was right now. Maybe it was the genes from her father’s line.

She was naked in the bathroom as she glanced at the full-length mirror, once again looking over her body to see where time was catching up with her. On the surface, aside from those lines around her eyes, time was losing the battle. Her breasts were still full and ripe; her ass shapelier than it had been when she was twenty. Her long brown hair hid not a strand of gray, and her stomach lacked even the smallest bit of fat. For her size and shape, she was the perfect example of a healthy, vibrant, sexually attractive, forty-year-old woman.

But the crow’s feet were just the start. Already, her fingers felt sore when it was cold out. For a guitar player, that was dangerous. For someone as active was she was, the slight pain she got in her back was problematic was well.

“Are you dressed in there yet, Sheryl?” A voice called in towards her.

Sheryl Crow sighed. Her friend and aide, Samantha, was easily half her age, and looked just as good. Slightly taller, with dark black hair that ran down to her back, Sam was every man’s wet dream. Sheryl had worked out every day for the last six months with Sam, who’s job prior to becoming Sheryl’s assistant had been that of a fitness instructor. Looking as good as Sheryl did at 40 took work, but Sam was willing to work the singer hard enough to keep her that way.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Sheryl called back, looking down at her body again. She certainly didn’t look forty – in fact, if anything, she could easily pass for thirty, maybe even younger. And her male fans certainly didn’t seem to care about her age. Sheryl didn’t go the Britney Spears route when on stage, but she’d definitely sexed-up her image lately, showing off her hot body while she still had it.

And she’d been getting laid a little more often, as well. Two nights ago, she’d taken a 25 year-old guy back to her hotel room and gotten herself off pretty well.

So she had no reason to complain, right?

She sighed again and started getting dressed for her work out. Maybe sweating for an hour would get her mind off her age.

* * *

Sweat streamed down Sheryl’s face as she lay back. Clad in only a towel, the superstar allowed the heat of the club’s sauna to wash away the aches in her joints and muscles. Sam had worked her hard for more than an hour, and then decided to run a few laps around the track out back. Sheryl had decided to hit the steam instead, and now lay about, trying to remember if this was really worth the effort.

Maybe she was trying to hard to look this good. She was forty, after all. She should be settling in to a more laid back lifestyle, touring less, making fewer albums, and just enjoying all the opportunities her fame and fortune could provide her with. She could even quit tomorrow, and see no real decrease in her lifestyle outside of not having to run around constantly to keep people happy.

But that would probably be about as boring as life could get. What would she do if she wasn’t touring, or recording, or playing music? Probably mope around the house, wishing she WAS touring, recording, or playing music.

No, giving up wasn’t an option. But, then again, she could probably work a little less at keeping up with the times. She wasn’t Christina Aguilera, after all, desperate to prove that she was relevant to the music world. Sheryl had four gold albums under her belt these days – she was a proven thing, and could afford to take life a little easier.

Suddenly, the door to the sauna swung open and a young man, no more than 20 years old entered. He was tall, a little over six feet, and was built like Greek God, with muscles where Sheryl didn’t even know there were muscles. Sandy blonde hair was cut close to his head, and he offered her a warm smile as he sat down in the far corner of the steam room.

Sheryl closed her eyes and tried to just enjoy the steam. This was supposed to relax her, make her forget her problems.

Of course, as soon as she closed her eyes, the image of the Crow’s Feet she’d seen earlier sprung into her head.

Mentally swearing, she opened her eyes and looked over at the young man sharing the sauna with her. He was glancing in her general direction, but appeared to be looking at the floor beneath her feet. Figuring he was meditating or something, Sheryl forgot about him and tried again to relax. This time she shifted so that she was lying on the bench she’d been sitting on, careful to keep the towel wrapped around her chest so as to not allow the young man a sneak peek at anything he shouldn’t see.

She lay there for several seconds, trying very hard to feel younger. Maybe she’d try some botox soon. It was supposed to make wrinkles go away. Of course, it WAS a poison she’d be injecting into her body, and if she did too much, she might not be able to blink properly, but a lot of other people a lot younger than she was were doing it.

She opened her eyes and glanced over at the young man again. Again he wasn’t looking at her, but rather to a spot off to the side of her, as if there was someone sitting down by her feet. He wasn’t looking at her face, so she could see his expression, which was a rather intent one. She took the opportunity to give the guy another once over. He was a big fellow, clearly devoted to lifting weights. Probably had a dick the size of three ants back-to-back, and was just trying to make up for it.

Unable to resist, Sheryl glanced down at the towel, right about where his cock should be. She was mildly surprised to see a rather large bulge there. Sheryl actually blinked at that – she hadn’t expected it, and it seemed to be getting a little bit bigger even as she looked at it.

Suddenly, a horrid thought hit her. Looking up, she saw that the man’s eyes were on her own – and he clearly knew what she’d been looking at.

“Sorry,” Sheryl muttered, averting her eyes.

“No problem,” he said. “You have very lovely toes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your whole feet, actually,” he said. His eyes were now riveted to Sheryl’s bare feet, and he wasn’t hiding the fact at all.

And as Sheryl looked on, the towel cover his crotch bulged a bit more.

“Ohmygod!” Sheryl exclaimed without thinking. Looking at her feet was turning this guy on!

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at her cry. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“T-that’s okay,” Sheryl said, clutching her towel around her a little harder as she stood up. Before he could say anything else, she bolted from the steam room, hoping that Sam was back from her run.

* * *

“They are cute feet, Sheryl,” Sam said. Sheryl was lying about her living room, her feet up on the couch, as she and Sam looked them over. The whole event in the steam room was still bothering Sheryl, though she couldn’t figure out why. Was it the fact that a little pervert had tried to hit on her while she was practically naked? Or was it the fact that some twenty-year-old guy was attracted to her FEET?

“But they were my FEET!” Sheryl said. “I mean, I could understand it if he’d been lusting after my ass or my boobs, but my feet?”

“It’s a fetish?” Samantha answered, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. “Some people get off on different things.”

“But feet?” Sheryl asked.

“Why not?” Sam called back. “You want anything?”

“Grab me a beer,” Sheryl sighed. “Feet aren’t that sexy, are they?”

“Depends on what turns you on!” Sam hollered back. Sheryl sighed. Sam had the kind of great hearing only twenty-something’s who’d never spent several hours a day next to a loudspeaker system could have. Sheryl had spent the better part of the last ten years on stage every night, with loud music blasting out around her. Hearing protection helped, but just like birth control didn’t guarantee 100% lack of future babies, earplugs don’t guarantee 100% lack of hearing loss.

A moment later Sam reentered, tossing Sheryl a beer as she sat back down.

Sheryl took a long swig before shaking her head again. “I mean, really, feet are just feet.”

“I think yours are cute,” Sam said, taking a sip of her own beer.

“Cute enough to make you lust after me?” Sheryl muttered.

“Nah, I’m more of an ass girl myself,” Sam said, snickering.

“Laugh it up,” Sheryl muttered. “I suppose it was a one time thing, right?”

“That someone’s turned on to your feet?” Sam asked. “Hardly. There are probably hundreds of guys out there lusting after your toes. Maybe even thousands.”

“You think so?”

“Have you ever had your picture taken with no shoes on?”

“A few,” Sheryl said, thinking back.

“Then somewhere, some pervert’s jacking off to them,” Sam said, taking another sip.

“Oh, now THAT’S an image I needed,” Sheryl muttered.

“Oh, come on, Sheryl, you don’t think guys aren’t whacking off to your pictures, do you?”

“Why would they?” Sheryl asked, taking another large chug off her beer. “I mean, I’m no Britney Spears.”

“Your no Rosie O’Donnel, either,” Sam shot back. “You’re hot, Sheryl. That’s why you did that Stuff Magazine shoot a while back, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sheryl said.

Sam got up and moved to sit down next to Sheryl. “So, this guy in the sauna,” the assistant asked.

“What about him?” Sheryl asked.

“Was he cute?”

* * *

Naked except for the towel wrapped around her chest, Sheryl Crow sat back down in the sauna she’d just been in the day before. She wasn’t exactly sure how Sam had talked her into it, but she was back, barefoot, and hoping to see the guy again.

She was alone, again, and wondered just how long she would be. Sam was working on a treadmill in sight of the sauna’s door. If the guy entered, she’d quickly hit the showers, then come in here, just in time to rescue Sheryl from –

– From what, exactly? Sheryl wasn’t sure. She didn’t know why she was here. But she had to see this through. She had to know WHY her feet turned on this guy. Not just by her, not just by her celebrity, or her music, or her money. By her FEET.

Sam had insisted on Sheryl coming back. She had insisted on confronting the sauna man, and she had insisted on Sheryl doing it alone.

As the steam filled the room and made her drowsy, Sheryl wondered what she’d say when he showed up. What if there were other people in there by then? What if he didn’t show up at all? Sam seemed so certain that he would, but Sheryl wasn’t so sure.

A loud bang brought Sheryl back to the land of the living. Clouds of steam swirled around as a blast of cooler air quickly became assimilated into the air around her. She was no longer alone.

“Oh, hello,” he said. It was him. The same 20 year old she’d seen the other day. He was still tall, still a little over six feet, and still built like Greek God, with muscles where Sheryl didn’t even know there were muscles. His hair was still sandy blonde, and was still cut close to his head. He offered her the same warm smile as he sat down in the exact same spot Sheryl had seen him the day before.

“Hi,” Sheryl said, slowly.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asked.

“N-no,” Sheryl said. She glanced down. His bulge was back, as big as ever.

They sat in silence for several long moments. Hours, days, years could’ve passed. Sheryl didn’t know for sure. Where was Sam? She was supposed to come rescue her by now. How the fuck long did it take to shower, anyway?

“Uh, listen, I’m sorry if I upset you the other day,” he said.

“W-what?” Sheryl asked.

“When I said you had cute feet. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“That’s okay,” Sheryl said. She gulped slightly – her throat was suddenly parched. “Uh, you really think they’re cute?”

“Absolutely,” he said, leaning forward a bit. “I’ve never seen better in my life.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Sheryl said, suddenly feeling quite lame.

“Would you like a foot massage?” he asked carefully.

Sheryl blinked. She did enjoy having her feet rubbed. And really, was there any harm? He wasn’t asking to fuck her…

But feet did turn him on. Was he looking for a way to get off on her without her knowing? He was already up and moving, the bulge in his crotch in prominent display.

“Uh, s-sure,” Sheryl said carefully. It was too late to say much else. And Sam would be here soon to rescue her.

“Lay your head back and just relax,” he said, sitting down near where she lay her feet. Sheryl did as he suggested, half expecting the door to swing open, and for Sam to be calling out.

But Sam didn’t come, and soon enough, her mystery fetish man was giving her the ultimate foot massage.

Sheryl was literally in heaven as his fingers worked over the flesh on her feet like he had been born to do so. Every move, every once of pressure, brought wave after wave of stress relief to the singer. Combined with the heat and steam, Sheryl soon found herself practically in a dream state, unable to think quite right.

She had no idea how long the foot massage lasted. It could’ve been little more than a minute, it could’ve been ten years – she didn’t know. But when she finally felt his hands drop from her feet and allowed her eyes to flutter open, she saw something she hadn’t expected to see.

He was just beginning to stand up, to move away from her, when his towel dropped from around his waist, hitting the floor at once.

Sheryl’s eyes went wide. She’d known his member had to be huge, what from the size of the bulge in his towel earlier. But she hadn’t expected it to be quite that large. Easily eight inches in length, his penis stood out like a rocket, primed and ready to launch.

“Oh crap,” he said, bending over to grab the towel. Sheryl leapt up, and for reasons unknown to her, placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” she said, unable to pry her eyes off his erect cock. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asked. If he was worried about her staring at his manhood, he didn’t let on.

“You’re so big,” Sheryl said, using her hands to position him in front of where she sat, leaving his cock right about chin level with her.

“Thanks,” he said. It twitched in front of her.

Mesmerized by the enormous phallic shape in front of her, Sheryl couldn’t help but reach out and touch it. He tried to pull back, but she shook her head, motioning for him to stand still.

Gently, Sheryl wrapped a hand around the thick staff, feeling the heat radiating off of it. The sauna had been hot, but this man’s penis was even hotter. She studied it with her eyes and fingers, marveling at the veins, the pulsing power held within. Sheryl had never, EVER seen a cock this big in her life.

“You approve?” he asked after a moment.

Sheryl simply nodded. “You deserve something,” she said slowly.

“I do?” he asked.

“For the massage,” she said, her eyes never leaving his manhood.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“This,” Sheryl said, sliding forward and sucking the giant cock into her lips.

Sheryl Crow has been said to have the sexiest lips in the music business. And while her lips were certainly attractive, Sheryl knew there was another reason for the praise – she gave excellent blowjobs. She sucked, licked, nibbled, and drained men dry. She had mastered a talent that had never failed to get a guy off in less than three minutes. She had tricks that could make a man hover right at the breaking point for more than twenty minutes before finally blowing. She could suck fast, lick slow, or combine the both for the perfect combo of erotic oral sex.

Sheryl went with her Three Minute Special here, and for the first time, she hoped Sam wasn’t just about to come in the door. As her red lips slid down the man’s giant cock, she instantly started swirling her tongue around what she could suck in of the shaft. She pulled back slightly, allowing her saliva to coat the massive prick before sucking it in once more.

One of her hands snaked up and started stroking towards the base of her new treat – there was no way she’d be able to get all of it down her throat. Her other hand came up to grip his balls, squeezing them slightly, for added affect.

Sheryl master oral sex got her new friend off in exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds. He groaned suddenly, and shot six hot streams of cum into Sheryl’s throat, forcing her to swallow it quickly. Glancing up for the first time, Sheryl saw his flushed face looking down at her, his face awed.

“There,” Sheryl said a few moments later, having finally pulled off his softening dick. “You’re repaid.”

“And what do I have to do to get you back into my debt?” He asked carefully.

“Another foot massage,” Sheryl smiled, getting up and wrapping the towel around her more carefully. “Be here tomorrow,” she said. “Same time.”

“Right,” the man said as Sheryl walked out of the sauna and headed towards the showers.

* * *

“I can’t believe you went for a drink just in time for him to slip into the sauna,” Sheryl muttered as she and Sam lay about in Sheryl’s living room, drinking beer.

“I can’t believe you gave him a blowjob just for rubbing your feet!” Sam said. “What do I get for rubbing your feet?”

“If you’ve got a dick, Sam, I’ll suck it,” Sheryl said, finishing off the rest of her beer. “But you don’t, and I don’t munch carpet, so I guess you just get your pay check.”

“Damn,” Sam muttered. “No one’s munched my carpet in a while.”

“Come with me tomorrow,” Sheryl said. “I can probably get my new boy toy to do it for you.”

“So you’re using him now?”

“Why not?” Sheryl asked. “I mean, all he wants is to rub me feet and have a blow. Nothing more.”

“You sure about that?”

“He’s a guy,” Sheryl said, waving Sam off. “He’ll be more than happy with blowjobs. Though you might have to let him rub your feet before he’ll munch your carpet.”

“You’re sick,” Sam said, giggling.

* * *

Sam didn’t come along with Sheryl to the gym the next day – she had to run out and run some errands, leaving Sheryl to work out alone, and enter the sauna alone.

Her mystery man was waiting for her.

“Hello,” he said upon seeing her.

“Hi there,” Sheryl smiled back. They were, again, alone. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in giving me another foot massage, would you?”

He smiled. “If that’s what you’d like.”

Sheryl smiled back. “I would.”

“Then lie down,” he said, “and I’ll see what I can do to make you feel even better than yesterday.”

Sheryl lay down on her back and closed her eyes. His hands were on her feet in seconds, and in less than a minute, all the stress of Sheryl’s workout had worn away. The heat of the sauna lulled her nearly to sleep, and she lay aimlessly daydreaming about anything and everything.

She no longer worried about this strange man. He could lust after her feet all he wanted. She trusted him, and wanted to enjoy his efforts. And all he asked for a long, pleasurable foot massage was a simple, three-minute blowjob.

A perfect trade in Sheryl’s book.

Sheryl was daydreaming about opening up for the Beatles, wondering if she’d get the chance to steal John away before he ever met Yoko, when it happened.

Something wet and soft brushed against her foot. Blinking back to reality, Sheryl wondered how long she’d been gone. Her mystery man was kneeling next to her feet now –

– sucking on her toes!

“What are you doing?” Sheryl asked, trying to sit up. He reached out with a large hand and pressed against her towel-covered stomach, pushing her back down.

“Quiet,” he said, his voice kind, but filled with concentration. “You’ll enjoy this,” he said. His tongue ran down her foot again, while his left hand continued to fondle her other sole. The right hand pressed firmly against her stomach, keeping her pinned to the bench.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Sheryl said slowly.

“I can see you,” he said.


“Your towel,” he said, using his hand to separate the edges of it. “When you lie down on the bench, I can see you pussy.”

“WHAT?!” Sheryl said, trying again to get up. But his hand held her steady to the bench, and his mouth engulfed the entire top half of her foot. She could feel him moaning in delight as his fingers continued to separate the towel. Sheryl could feel the warm air flowing over her crotch now, and knew that she was completely exposed.

“Please, wait-” she said.

“You didn’t wait when you went down on me,” he said. “You just grabbed me and started sucking me off.”

“What?” Sheryl said.

“You’re aggressive. I like that. Now it’s my turn.”

And with that, his finger slid down into Sheryl’s pussy, where it was instantly covered in juice.

Sheryl gasped, the sudden intrusion sending a jolt through her entire body. He instantly started stroking in and out with his finger, caressing parts of Sheryl’s pussy that hadn’t been touched in a while.

“Oh my god,” Sheryl whispered. He was still sucking on her toes – something Sheryl didn’t find totally unwelcome anymore. It was starting to feel good – though nowhere near as delightful as the feelings emanating from her crotch.

“You’re so sexy, Sheryl,” he said. “You make me so hard.”

Glancing up, Sheryl saw that his towel had vanished, and his rock hard cock stood out at attention. While he used one hand to penetrate Sheryl’s crotch, the other one held a death grip on his own shaft, stroking away as he sucked on the singer’s toes.

And then, as if he could tell Sheryl was watching him, his cock exploded, sending several shots of hot, white cum flying. Glob after glob hit Sheryl’s feet, making them instantly sticky.

Suddenly, the finger in her crotch was gone, and Sheryl watched as her companion fell back in a daze, unable to stay on his feet, even crouching as he did so. He fell to the floor in a heap, breathing hard and fast, his iron rod wilting just a bit from his release but still standing up from his body.

“Wait!” Sheryl said, suddenly getting up. “Are you all right?”

“Oh yeah,” he whispered from behind closed eyes. “That was the best.”

Sheryl wrapped her towel around her tighter as she stood over him. “You shouldn’t have done that?”

“Done what?” he asked.

“Touched me. Down there,” Sheryl said.

“You liked it,” he replied. It wasn’t a question.

Sheryl stormed out of the sauna, leaving him behind her, completely naked.

* * *

“He practically raped me!” Sheryl said, slamming her third empty beer can down on the coffee table.

“But he was right,” Sam said. “You liked what he did.”

“Hell, yeah! He was fucking stroking me off! You know I like it when guys touch me down there! Of course I enjoyed it!”

“Then what are you complaining about?” Sam asked, still sipping away at her first beer.

“I don’t know,” Sheryl admitted. “And that’s what bothers me.”

“Tell you what,” Sam said. “Tomorrow, I’ll go in there with you. I’ll pretend to be asleep, and if he trys anything funny, I can stop him.”

“You will?” Sheryl asked.

“Sure. Besides, I want to see this guy for myself.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Sheryl said, opening her fourth beer. “You’re a life saver.”

“Don’t say that yet – we don’t even know if he’ll be there tomorrow.”

* * *

He was there, all right. In fact, he’d gotten to the steam room before Sheryl did, making her arrival very uncomfortable.

For one, Sam hadn’t caught up yet. In fact, she was running late back in the shower stalls.

For another, her male admirer was already buck naked, with a full-fledged erection going on. Sheryl caught herself looking at his hard on, imagining the hot, sticky sensation of his cum hitting her feet once more.

And finally, the instant the door closed behind her, she heard it lock, trapping her in the sauna alone with him. Again.

“Damn,” he said, looking at her. “Wish you hadn’t let the door close. I’ve been trapped in here for over an hour.”

“It can’t open from the other side?” Sheryl asked, before the obvious dawned on her – she would’ve have gotten in if it didn’t.

“Uh, would you like me to cover up?” he asked, pointing towards his naked penis.

Sheryl found herself looking down at it. She didn’t like it – it was big, powerful, and probably would fill her pussy up nicely, but it didn’t get off on her pussy. It got off on her feet. Her feet, which were totally un-sexy and just feet. Why did this guy have to have a foot fetish? Why couldn’t he be like every other guy in the world – more interested in fucking her normally? Hell, even taking that rod up her ass would be better than having it blow its load all over her feet.

“No,” Sheryl sighed, feeling more trapped than ever. “Don’t bother. We both know what’s going to happen now.” With that, she let her towel drop to the floor and stood naked before him. “Do whatever you want to me – we both know it’s going to happen anyway, so let’s get it over with.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Sheryl sighed, her head dropping. “Yes. Just, please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Never,” he said.

Sheryl put her towel down on the bench and quickly lay down on her back, her nude body face up, her breasts and toes pointed toward the ceiling.

“You are sure, right?” her admirer/rapist asked.

“Please, just get it over with,” Sheryl begged him, closing her eyes and spreading her legs a bit.

And so it started all over again. He massaged her feet, slowly caressing her into an almost drunken stupor. As she was just about ready to drift off to sleep, his finger slid into her moist pussy, eliciting a whole new set of sensations. His hand danced in and around her folds, hitting every erotic spot she knew she had and a few she didn’t. Her lips, her clit, even her g-spot – none were ignore. Pulse after pulse of erotic heaven shot through Sheryl’s body, bringing back memories of every nasty sexual experience Sheryl had ever had. From her first time at 15, to the time she was “casting couched” by Michael Jackson’s manager. From the night she had six orgasms with her third boyfriend, to the time she had an intense threesome with two hot male body builders under the boardwalk at Venice Beach.

And, naturally, Sheryl remembered every humiliating stroke her newest sexual partner had done to her.

She hated herself.

She loved the feelings.

She wanted to die.

She’d already gone to a sexual heaven.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” a voice asked in her ear.

“Yes,” Sheryl moaned, her mind saturated with pleasure, humiliation, and lust. It was all she could do to speak, let alone think.

“Do you want to feel that big, hard cock inside you?” The voice asked.

“YES!” Sheryl hissed loudly. That was something she was used to – fucking like normal people. She craved the sensations of a man inside her folds. She needed to wrap her pussy lips around his meat, milking it until they both got off.

Suddenly, the hands left her feet and her crotch, and she felt the man’s weight upon her. His large manhood slid into her easily, the copious amounts of girl cum she’d been producing making his passage far easier.

“Beg him to fuck you,” the voice said.

“Fuck me!” Sheryl hissed. “Oh, god, Fuck me hard!”

The penis deep within her started sliding in and out, providing the sexual contact Sheryl had so desperately needed.

“You like it, don’t you?” the voice asked.

“Yes!” Sheryl hissed. “Oh, god, fuckin’ YES!” she screamed.

“Fuck her harder,” the voice said, and the tempo of Sheryl’s violation increased.

“Tell me, Sheryl Crow, what’s the nastiest thing you’ve ever done sexually?”

“This!” Sheryl gasped as the penis within her bottomed out.

“Have you ever had more than one partner?”

“Y-yeah,” Sheryl replied.

“Ever been with a woman?”

“No,” Sheryl moaned.

“Have you ever taken it up the ass?”

“A few times,” Sheryl admitted.

“Fuck her up the ass,” the voice commanded. Suddenly, Sheryl was being lifted up off the bench, turned over, and placed back down on her towel. An instant later, she could feel the needy presence of her admirer/rapist’s dick at her anal entrance.

“Oh, god FUCK ME!” Sheryl screamed.

The dick was coated with Sheryl’s juices, and it slid into her ass like a piston. Sheryl screamed again, this time in pain – it had been quite some time since anyone had put anything up her ass. But Sheryl had been fucked up the ass before, and in less than a minute, she was back into the old rhythm, her fingers fondling her clit while she thrust her ass back to meet every thrust.

“You’re such a slut,” the voice said. “I’ve always known you were a slut.”

And with that, the man in her ass exploded, his cum filling Sheryl’s rear entrance with enough cum to float a large yacht. Sheryl was mere seconds behind in her orgasm, and a wash of pleasure floated over her brain, knocking her out.

When she awoke a few minutes later, she was alone, and a towel was draped over her naked body, covering her up. The door was open.

Sheryl had been seriously raped this time. And what’s more, she knew who had been behind it – who was REALLY behind it.

* * *

The room was dark as Sheryl entered it, expecting to find Sam waiting for her on the couch with a beer in hand. Sam wasn’t there. In fact, from the looks of things, she’d gone to bed early.

Well that suited Sheryl just fine.

She walked over to Sam’s room, and sure enough, heard sounds from within. Sounds of sex.

With a sad little smile, Sheryl tried the door knob. It was unlocked. Sheryl went ahead and entered, knowing exactly what she’d find inside.

Sam lay naked on the bed, her body spread eagle and tied to the posts. Her raven black hair was spread behind her head like some sort of anti-halo, and sweat poured down over her ample breasts. A vibrator was crammed deep inside her naked crotch, clearly turned on High.

And sitting before Sam’s naked body, also naked and masturbating, was her mystery friend/rapist. He had his eyes locked on Sam’s feet, his fist pounding up and down on his rock hard cock, moving in a blur. Sheryl half expected him to blow his load right there in front of her.

“Untie her,” Sheryl said slowly.

Both of them looked up in complete shock. “Sheryl!” Sam said, struggling to get up, but realizing she was tied down.

“You heard me,” Sheryl said, pointing towards Sam’s prone body. “Untie her.”

The man looked at Sam, who nodded slowly. It took him a good ten minutes to undo the straps that held her akimbo, but he did as he was told, and soon Sam was free and clutching a towel to her chest.

“Drop that towel, Sam,” Sheryl said.

“W-what?” Sam asked.

“Drop it,” Sheryl repeated. “I want you naked in front of me.”

Looking at the man, Sam did as she was told.

“Now, mister foot fetish, why don’t you slowly start stroking your meat again. I liked watching you do that.”

“Uh, right,” he said, slowly taking his still hard member in his hands and staring to slowly stroke it.

“Nice and slow, just like that,” Sheryl said. “Now, Sam, come here and undress me.”

“What?” Sam said.

“Do as your told. Take my clothes off.”

Sam looked at the masturbating man, but didn’t argue. She stood up and slowly approached Sheryl. Slowly, she lifted Sheryl’s T-shirt up over her head, exposing the singer’s impressive bra-less tits. As the shirt dropped to the floor, Sam reached down and undid the simple snap on Sheryl’s shorts, sliding them down the superstar’s legs and exposing the tiny thong Sheryl wore underneath.

“All of it,” Sheryl said.

Sam looked at her, but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached up and yanked Sheryl’s thongs down hard and fast, causing the star to wince as her sex was instantly exposed to the world.

As she stepped out of her panites, Sheryl gently took Sam by the hair and pressed her to her crotch.

“Have you ever been with a woman, Sam?” Sheryl asked.

“Yes,” Sam answered, inhaling the smell of Sheryl’s sex.

“Then you’ve gone down on a woman,” Sheryl said. It wasn’t a question.

In response, Sam reached out her tongue and gave Sheryl a quick lick over the singer’s engorged clit.

“Good girl,” Sheryl said. “I’m going to lie down. I want you to do that to me until I climax. Understood?”

“Yes,” Sam said, licking Sheryl’s clit once more for confirmation.

“And while she’s doing that, I want you to fuck her up the ass,” Sheryl said to the man.

“What?” Sam said, shocked.

“Just do it,” Sheryl said, laying down on the bed, spread eagle. “You’re my goddamn assistant, Sam. Assist me in getting off. NOW!”

As Sheryl raised her voice, Sam and the masturbating man got moving. Sam bent over the bed, her head landing perfectly inside Sheryl’s lap, where the younger woman instantly started sliding her tongue in and out of Sheryl’s pussy. Her male counterpart, the strange, foot-fetish man who’d stalked Sheryl all week, got behind Sam and slowly started fucking her doggy style. As soon as he got his cock wet with Sam’s juices, he pulled out and pressed his cockhead against Sam’s sphincter.

“Do it,” Sheryl commanded, her hands holding Sam’s head to her crotch as gentle waves of sexual excitement washed over the 40-year-old’s body.

With only a second’s more hesitation, the stalker/rapist/lover started pushing his rock hard cock into Sam’s ass.

Sheryl had to hold Sam’s head to her pussy as the man worked his way in and out, as the younger woman had clearly never had Anal sex before. Sheryl had – not by choice – and knew that it was painful.

Which is why she was forcing it on Sam.

“You set this all up,” Sheryl said sternly. “You had him wait for me in the steam room all week long,”

Sam nodded and yelped in pain as the man reached his full length inside her, but Sheryl didn’t let up.

“Keep lapping, whore,” Sheryl muttered. “You had him massage me. Molest me. Rape me!”

Sam nodded again, and the man started sliding in and out slowly.

“WHY?!” Sheryl demanded. “Why would you do that?!”

As the man began to increase his pace, tears slid down Sam’s face. Sheryl lifted her assistant’s head up out of her lap long enough for her to answer.

“Because I wanted this,” Sam said. “I’ve wanted to fuck you as long as I’ve known you, Sheryl.”

“What?” Sheryl said. The man stopped, still buried to the hilt inside Sam. “Don’t stop!” Sheryl hissed at him before turning back to Sam.

“I’m bisexual, Sheryl,” Sam confessed. “And you’re straight. I’ve wanted you for more than a year, but you were never interested in me. You’d fuck Eighteen year old boys, but you wouldn’t give me a second glance. I thought if I used a young guy to get you into sexual situations, maybe I could ease my way into them with you.”

Sheryl was dumbfounded. She watched as the man continued to fuck Sam’s ass for several long seconds, unable to speak.

“But why?” Sheryl finally asked. “I’m almost twice your age, Sam. You could have all sorts of girls.”

“But I want you, Sheryl,” Sam replied. “You’re the one I lust after. You’re the one I masturbate to every night. You’re the one who comes to me in my dreams.”

Sheryl shook her head before looking up and the man still grinding into Sam’s ass.

“And you?” she asked. “What do you get out of this?”

He smiled. “A chance to touch and feel and love your feet. I really do have a foot fetish.”

Sheryl shook her head. “Sam, I’m not a lesbian.”

“I know,” Sam replied, tears still rolling down her cheek, dripping off her chin to land on Sheryl’s bare skin, right above her crotch. Even the warm tears seemed cool to the sexual heat radiating out of her pussy.

Sheryl sighed. “All right, boy. Get yourself off. Now.”

The man stroked himself in and out of Sam maybe four or five more times, then went rigid. He’d clearly been holding back for some time. Sam groaned as the man shot his load deep into Sheryl’s assistant’s ass. His load was huge, and he very nearly collapsed on top of Sam. As he fell out of her ass, Sheryl pulled Sam up to her, kissing her gently on the forehead.

“Get out,” Sheryl said to the man. “Get out before I call the cops.”

“What?” He said, struggling back to his feet.

“You heard me,” Sheryl said. “Get out. If I see you in the sauna again, I’ll sue you for stalking.” Sheryl smiled as the boy turned white at that statement. “But I might just fuck you first.”

“Uh…” The boy stammered.

“Get out,” Sheryl said. “I’ll have Sam return your clothes tomorrow. Now GO!”

He ran out without another word, his tight ass jiggling as he went.

“Would you really fuck him again?” Sam asked.

“You know me,” Sheryl said, “I like my boys young, and he does give great foot massages.”

“I suppose you’ll want me to quit now,” Sam said, tears welling in her eyes again.

“That depends,” Sheryl said with a gentle smile. “I can’t forgive what you did, Sam. But I’ve never been with a woman before. And I’m always willing to try something once. For tonight, I’m yours. If I like what happens, you get a raise. If I don’t, I’ll have to let you go – I can’t have you doing something like this again.”

“I’ll never do anything like this again,” Sam promised.

“Shut up,” Sheryl said. “If this works – you and me, having sex – then you can do that all you want. Bring home guys, girls, both. I don’t care. But I can’t have you loving me and not enjoy having sex with you.”

Sam nodded once. “What do you want me to do?” she asked slowly.

Sheryl smiled and spread her arms and legs, exposing her naked body laid out on the bed. “Me,” she said wickedly.

For the next three hours, Sam pleasured Sheryl’s body. Finger after finger found it’s way into Sheryl’s pussy and ass. Sam’s tongue ran from the tip of Sheryl’s lips down past her breasts and through her snatch, until it circled around her anal opening. Sam’s own lips locked on to her beloved’s nipples and clit, sucking for all she was worth.

They tried every position, every move Sam knew. From humping each other’s legs while making out to finger fucking doggy-style, they tried it all.

And Sheryl loved it all.

Six or seven orgasms passed before Sheryl remembered she had to decide if she was even interested in Sam. Three or four climaxes later, she decided to keep Sam on for life.

By morning, both women were asleep in a tangle of sweaty sheets and naked limbs, both confident in their lesbian love.

* * *

They were there all right. No getting around them now. Forty years old, and those little lines were forming around her eyes. She didn’t feel old enough to have Crow’s Feet yet. Was forty too young for such things? Her mother hadn’t gotten hers until she was at least five years older than she was right now. Maybe it was the genes from her father’s line.

She was naked in the bathroom as she glanced at the full-length mirror, once again looking over her body to see where time was catching up with her. On the surface, aside from those lines around her eyes, time was losing the battle. Her breasts were still full and ripe; her ass shapelier than it had been when she was twenty. Her long brown hair hid not a strand of gray, and her stomach lacked even the smallest bit of fat. For her size and shape, she was the perfect example of a healthy, vibrant, sexually attractive, forty-year-old woman.

“Are you dressed in there yet, Sheryl?” A voice called in towards her.

Sheryl Crow smiled. Her new lover and aide, Samantha, was easily half her age, and looked just as good. Slightly taller, with dark black hair that ran down to her back, Sam was every man’s wet dream – and Sheryl’s lesbian lover.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Sheryl called back, looking down at her body again. She certainly didn’t look forty – in fact, if anything, she could easily pass for thirty, maybe even younger. And her male fans certainly didn’t seem to care about her age. Sheryl didn’t go the Britney Spears route when on stage, but she’d definitely sexed-up her image lately, showing off her hot body while she still had it.

And she’d been getting laid far more often, as well. Especially since Sam had become her lover.

So she had no reason to complain, right?

Smiling, Sheryl walked naked out of the bathroom and into Sam’s arms. Kissing her passionately, the singer wallowed in the warmth of her young lover’s embrace.

“Are you ready to hit the sauna yet?” Sam asked.

Sheryl stepped back and opened her arms wide, exposing her naked body. “Do I look ready?”

“Absolutely,” Sam said, kissing Sheryl again.

“So,” Sheryl asked as the two naked women headed out towards the private Sauna Sheryl had just had built on her property, “What surprise do you have in store for me today?”

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