Catherine Mary Stewart: "Selfie"
Hello, working in the film and TV industry, I know many actors personally. Some you will have heard of and some, less so. This tale is of an actress friend who had some success in soap operas and movies in the mid 1980s. This story contains graphic sexual situations and adult themes. It is not appropriate for those under age 18, the close-minded, and the immature. If that's you, or this stuff is illegal in your part of the world, please stop reading now. (If that's you, why are you reading this site in the first place?) I hope you will enjoy the results. Feedback is greatly desired and appreciated.
This story is a work of fiction, even though it is based on real people and events. Grand dramatic license has been taken with the real people and events featured herein, as is the author's way. This tale is written for entertainment purposes only, and not to suggest, expose, or endorse anything. As far as I know, Catherine Mary Stewart and the other celebrities mentioned in this tale do not have sexual relationships with each other in reality, nor are there any actual difficulties in her marriage. Any and all details of whatever relationships they do have in reality are their business alone. While I have met Cathie in real life, it is unlikely she'd remember my name until I reintroduced myself. She spent most of our time chatting with my wife. Please keep in mind that fantasizing and writing about the possibilities is only my sometimes hobby and all readers should know, as I know, that possibilities are not real life.
I thank AchtungNight for his words of advice regarding writing erotica with celebrities. -Emmerson
I had come to the convention to get an autograph from Jonathan Banks, an actor perhaps best known as Mike Ehrmantraut in "Breaking Bad" and "Better Call Saul," but my goal was his signature on a photo from The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai: Across the Eighth Dimension. The line at his table was long, and moving slowly since he was nice enough to carry on a conversation with each fan, which of his roles they liked best and why, etc. When somebody said, "Airplane," his laugh was loud and deep; very non-Ehrmantraut. "What an asshole," he quoted his one main line from that movie.
As I was wondering what role I would pick, Banzai? Wiseguy? I heard a woman's voice call my name. "Jimmy! Jimmy! Over here."
I followed the sound and saw Catherine Mary Stewart standing under a sign with her name, waving to me and jumping up and down in a way that made her breasts bounce enticingly. Her hair shone golden brown and fell to her shoulders in soft waves. She was wearing a white peasant blouse, loose enough, as I said, to allow her breasts to bounce and sway as she moved. Her denim wrap-around skirt hung to just above her knees. The line for her autograph was longer than Banks' and she gestured that I should come around the end of the table and sit next to her.
I had met Cathie, as she insisted I call her, at a party for a mutual friend. She and my wife hit it off, talking for hours like old friends about kids, husbands, life, old projects and new. My wife had lived in New York for many years and Cathie was living there at the time, so much of the conversation centered around The Big Apple of then and now. Her attention had been so focused on my wife, that I was a bit surprised she remembered my name.
I walked past the long line of autograph seekers, mostly men between 20 and 60, the target audience for the '80s queen of low budget sci-fi, herself in her mid-sixties as I was, though her smooth skin, bright blue eyes and perfect smile denied her age. I slipped through the gap at the end of her table. she turned so her arm was over my shoulder, holding up her phone at arms length. "Want a selfie? $25." Then she threw her arms around my neck, pushing her boobs to my chest, and I could not help but rock my hips forward, pressing my growing cock into her groin. She sighed into my ear. "That's the hug I remember."
"I'm surprised you remember me at all." I had to admit.
As we sat down behind the table full of color photos and souvenir postcards from various films, I noticed I was getting angry glances from the men in line. Possibly because I was delaying Cathie's attention from them and possibly because she placed her left hand on my thigh, noticeably stroking it. I was surprised to say the least.
She picked up a marker pen and asked the next person in line his name. He told her and dutifully handed over a $20 bill. Cathie wrote his name, then, "Love, Catherine Mary Stewart" on the photo from Night of the Comet.
"Well, I remember you for three reasons," she said as the next person stepped up with his $20. "The first reason is that our mutual friend goes on about you all the time; how you've been friends since school and how you talked him into going to his first big audition. So, I was looking forward to meeting you to begin with. And your wife was so thoroughly charming. I am sorry to hear she passed." She took $10 from a young man for a postcard. "The second reason is the way you hug. You hug with your whole body. Most men try to keep their hips back to avoid awkward contact. You lean in and we can feel your desire. That confidence is very attractive in a man."
"It's not too creepy or aggressive?" I pulled the stack of photos closer, along with the cash box, and started the transaction with the next person back in line, so everything was ready when they got to Cathie. And it kept her left hand free to continue rubbing my thigh, higher now as I got bigger under her touch.
"I suppose it could be, with the wrong person. But you're... "she rubbed my cock firmly under the table, her fingers following the thick shape... "you! Which brings me to reason 3." She lowered her voice between visitors. "Your wife told me."
"Told you? Told you what?"
"We had both had a few glasses of wine and I was complaining about my first husband, you know, girl talk."
I nodded, like I knew what she was talking about. "I mentioned that he didn't like giving oral sex and your wife just went off," she laughed as she told the story, perhaps too loudly for the close crowd. I saw Banks glance our way. "She went on and on about how much you loved it and how you're so good at it and your," she dropped her voice again, "your dick was so big that she couldn't wait to fuck you when you finished eating her. And by 'finished' she meant an orgasm that she would brag about to a near-stranger at a party."
"I must have missed that part."
"I think it's when you got drafted into the kitchen to wash dishes. She said you'd be embarrassed to know she was telling me."
I shrugged and nodded.
"I think of it all the time. You are my favorite fantasy guy," she had all-but given up being discrete as she masturbated me through my pants. I looked down the line to see if any children were waiting. Again, all I got were angry stares in return. "Once I shouted your name while Richard was sucking my clit. It took a while to explain my way out of that one." Her face was flush and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead and collar bone.
"And now, here you are. Looking great and feeling oh, so, hard." She glanced at her watch. "Almost time. I'm contractually obligated to sit here until 5 pm. Want to get dinner?" All the talk had me hungry for something else entirely. She squeezed my cock. "My treat."
"How can I refuse?"
A few minutes later, a man walked through the room tapping a hand chime and announcing the room was closing and would reopen the next morning at 9:00. There was some grumbling and a few stragglers tried to rush the table. I stood up and stared them down, leaning my 6'2" 250 lb. bulk between them and Cathie. I felt her hand on my back, "Thank you for that." She was gathering up photos and putting them in boxes from under the table. "It can feel a little claustrophobic back here. I sometimes wonder what I would do if there was a fire or earthquake during one of these things."
"I think you'll find," Jonathan Banks walked past us, carrying a box of his own, "that the same fans who tried to crowd you, would run over anyone who got in the way of them getting you out in an emergency." He reached out a hand to me. "I'm Jon Banks,"
