Jennifer Aniston on 'the View'

"So Elizabeth, do you ever help your guests loosen up before the show?" Jen asked.

"I try to make our guests as comfortable as possible, whatever."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear you say, Elizabeth, because you know what? The only thing that helps me loosen up before a television appearance is to have another woman eat my pussy."

Elizabeth gasped, "But Jennifer, I'm a good Catholic girl. I even went to Catholic school, all the way through."

"Then you're no stranger to cunnilingus, Elizabeth."

"Call me Liz."

"I'd rather call you Lez," Jen joked, wriggling out of her tight short skirt to reveal she was going commando for the occasion.

"I can't believe I'm sitting here with Jennifer Aniston in the green room and she's...bottomless," Elizabeth marveled, her mouth agape.

"I can see your tongue hanging out, Elizabeth," Jen smirked. "Why not put it to better use? I know you want to."

Sighing, "I've always wanted to," Elizabeth went down on Jen like an eagle swooping down on a mouse, or rather, a beaver. She licked away, enraptured with the rare thrill of orally servicing her favorite star. Jen spread her legs and closed her eyes. There is nothing like experiencing another woman's first time eating your pussy, she mused. Elizabeth was a natural, exhibiting even more innate cuntlicking skill than both Olsen twins put together. Her tongue was everywhere, ultimately working its way to the border of Jen's asshole.

"Oh, baby, rim my ass. Rim my ass, baby, that's what I really want, oh, yeah," Jen moaned. Just then the green room door burst open and in strode Whoopie Goldberg, clad in a gaudy pantsuit that only she could wear for the show.

"Elizabeth! Can't leave you alone for a minute, child," she scolded gently. "Still, I can understand. After all, how many times in a woman's life does she get a crack at Jennifer Aniston?"

"Hi, Whoopie," Jen said, her legs pulled up to better open her asshole for Elizabeth's intimate attention, adding, "Don't stop, Elizabeth."

"Girl Friend," Whoopie cheered, "I've been trying to get her to do that for me since Rosie left the show. Damn, that white girl can eat ass. She can clean up my back kitchen any time."

"You don't know what you're missing, Whoopie," Jen said, her voice quavering with pleasure.

"You know what you need, Jen? The one thing that would hit the spot right now? Is to be sucking on a big black dick. You ever suck black dick, girl Friend?"

"No, but I'd love to sometime," Jen said.

"No time like the present." Whoopie unzipped her fly and let her distinctly masculine trousers fall to the floor. She was wearing a leopard thong underneath. A leopard thong with a distinctly unfeminine bulge at the crotch, at Jen's line of sight and inches from her face. Whoopie's eyes bulged with desire as Jen reached and peeled down the thong.

Twisting over one shoulder to see, Elizabeth shrieked, "Whoopie has a penis!"

"Damn right Whoopie has a penis," Whoopie said. "Whoopie's what they call a hermaphro-dyke."

"I'd love to suck it for you, Whoopie," Jen sighed.

"Thought you'd never ask," Whoopie replied, offering her big black cock for Jen to fellate. Nearly concealing a sagging bull ball sack, her cock hung easily nine inches limp, but it didn't stay limp for long once Jen went to work on it. Aroused, Whoopie's cock was easily thirteen inches of mahogany.

Pumping her pelvis, Whoopie fucked Jen in the face while Elizabeth ate away, alternating at each woman's asshole. She noticed Whoopie's scrotum tightening down to the size of two prunes, and knew that Whoopie was close to cumming. Wondering whether she should warn Jen in advance, she decided against it. It was less than four minutes before air time.

Moaning and exhaling hoarsely, Whoopie came all over Jen's face and in her hair, a copious flood of cum. At that same moment, Jen came from the combined effect of Elizabeth's ass licking and lucky guess at finding her g-spot with her fingers up Jen's cunt. The waves of pleasure were so intense, Jen failed to notice the cum decorating on her face and hair. Someone knocked on the door and announced, "Three minutes, ladies."

"Oh, shit," Whoopie cursed, struggling to snap her thong back into place and hitch up her pants. "Hate to get eaten and run, Jen, but that's show business."

"Is my lipstick smeared?" Elizabeth bleated.

"Your mouth's been in two women's assholes and you wanna know is your lipstick smeared?" Whoopie said. "Look in a mirror, girl. Clean yourself up, or twelve million housewives gonna know all your business."

"Bye, Jen. And thanks," Elizabeth said as she left the green room.

"I should thank you. Both of you," Jen said gratefully.

"Jen, you're our first and only guest this hour," Whoopie said. "So maybe you ought to take a quick look in—"

A stage manager urged, "Whoopie, you're on!" and rushed her on camera.

After a few minutes of the usual banter among the co-hosts, Barbara Walters introduced Jennifer Aniston. The crowd went wild, standing and cheering for Jen's entrance. Those cheers turned to gasps as the audience members—mostly women—studied Jen's face in closeup on the monitor.

Whoopie's semen, although it had dried and clarified during the five minutes Jen had waited to make her entrance, was still clearly visible adorning her hair and forehead. The audience's shocked whispers mixed with a few nervous laughs at first, then regained intensity into a renewed, even louder roar of approval.

The tabloids screamed THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT JEN!! above cover photos artfully concealing the blots of semen in black patterns that could mean nothing else. Mothers protested and blocked their children's view in the checkout lines, but the "Jennifer Aniston facial" issues sold out everywhere. "Facial Chic" briefly took over in Hollywood, with celebrities as diverse as Sharon Stone, Lindsey Lohan and Corey Haim arranging with publicists to be "surprised" by paparazzi while wearing a facial in public. Even Jane Fonda got into the act, touting a new video and a line of "cum cosmetics" that she claimed would remove wrinkles.