December 23rd, 1999
The heart of Manhattan resembled a souvenir snowglobe at the dawn of a new millennium. A light flurry fell toward Rockefeller Plaza, coating the piney branches of a well-decorated eighty foot-high norway spruce from an upstate village. Dozens of people skated merrily around the iconic ice rink below the iconic golden statues, wearing red santa claus caps and reindeer sweaters.
Britney Spears couldn't care less about that bullshit tourist trap. The 18 year-old pop star was in the nearby NBC studio building, filming her latest music video. Right next door to Saturday Night Live.
"Oops, I did it again!" Britney sang in a seductive Mississippi accent. Wiggling her amazing tits and ass in a red skin-tight jumpsuit, just like the director told her to. Nigel Dick's weird "Lost in Space'' concept placed her on the surface of Mars with ten other sexy dancers in silver jumpsuits. (They were somehow able to survive without food or water in a super-cold hellhole while breathing 95% carbon dioxide.) An American astronaut guy stood nearby in a full NASA spacesuit, ogling the Princess of Pop. She was truly an inspiration to masturbation for the MTV generation.
"I played with your heart / got-a-lost in the game / oooh baby, baby . . ."
Britney kept shaking her heart-shaped ass for the cameras like a barely legal stripper. Nigel's 47 year-old dick got hard while watching that cajun bitch drop it like it was hot. Flames literally shot up behind her, from gas valves on the stage floor. The dancers slowed down for a melodic interlude, and the astronaut gave Britney a huge fake diamond necklace.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" Britney uttered in her sweetest girly-girl voice. "But I thought the old lady dropped it in the ocean in the end."
"Well, baby, I went down and got it for ya."
The ass-shaking suddenly resumed. Britney and her fellow "Martians" strutted all about, then they flopped down on a star-shaped platform inspired by Bob Fosse musicals. Wiggling like worms while looking up at a camera mounted to the rafters. She finished the highly choreographed routine a minute later, shadow-boxing like Mike Tyson and Vogue-ing like Madonna.
"Cut! That's a wrap!" Nigel shouted eagerly. "Great job, Brit-Brit. Your second album is gonna be a smash. I nearly busted my balls just watching you wiggle your ass in that tight latex."
"So I noticed," young Britney giggled, pointing at his crotch. A massive erection pushed his Tommy Hilfiger trousers to the very limit.
"Damn, that's embarrassing. Getting a hard-on in front of all these gay dancers."
"I give lots of men boners without even trying. Gay
and
straight," she mused while batting her long false eyelashes over her big beautiful brown eyes. "Why don't we go to your office and, uh . . . fill out some paperwork?" she added with a sly wink.
He quickly realized what she meant by that euphemism, and his penis quickly hijacked his mind. "Good idea, Britney. No job is finished without the paperwork."
She giggled naughtily, then she took him by the hand and led him out of the studio. The backup dancers sneered at that slutty pop star with a bayou country accent. They walked down a hall and into room A113, right next to Conan O'Brien's office. By the time Nigel closed the door, she was already down on her knees and ready to blow. She pulled down the zipper on his overpriced blue pants and yanked a huge dick out of his blue Calvin Klein boxer shorts. She grabbed the thick veiny shaft real hard, making him groan pleasantly.
"You did a great job directing my video, Mister Dick."
"I'm the best in the business, bitch."
"You deserve a big reward. An early Christmas present, right down my chimney."
She shoved that long dong deep into her mouth, gagging right off the bat.
"Ho-ho-hoooo!" he hooted like Santa. "Keep chugging that cock like a candy cane."
She giggled with a mouthful, then she whipped her head up and down in a blur of brown hair. Slurping and gagging and moaning like hell. Performing frantic fellatio on a man who was old enough to be her daddy. Sigmund Freud would be going bananas over Britney.
"Oops, you did it
again,
" Nigel growled. "Losing all your senses, that is just so typically you."
She giggled with a mouthful of man-meat, then she slowed down and grabbed his testicles with both hands, massaging them thoroughly. Stretching his hairy sack in every direction and hitting his P-spot just right. Teasing him so fucking good. She turned eighteen on December 2
nd
, losing her virginity to Trent Reznor at a star-studded birthday bash. (His nail was a few inches short of nine.) Britney "slept" with fourteen more guys over the following nineteen days. Nigel Dick was her sweet sixteenth.
"Good girl. I love how you play with my balls, getting lost in the game."
She whipped her head back and forth on his throbbing shaft. He took off his shirt and pants, pushed his Tommy Hilfiger boxers toward the floor. She deep-throated that pompous director even more, slurping and moaning theatrically. Making sure Conan could hear her latest sexcapade in his office. All those late night Britney jokes were like rocket fuel for her career.
"Get naked, girl. I want every
inch
