March 4, 2006
An Academy Award nominated actress was fucking me in the back seat of my car. On the day before the Oscars. Or so she told me at my favorite café this afternoon.
She said her name was Amy Adams, but it didn't ring a distinctive bell. If I'd seen that red hair and those big blue eyes on a big screen, though, I probably would have recognized it, but I didn't. She said she was nominated for a movie called 'Junebug' but that didn't ring a bell either.
She said that she was a big bundle of nerves the night before going to the Oscars for the first time. And she needed to unwind. Or at least give herself some hot memory to compose herself before millions of people.
That part I did get. Especially when I drove her to an alley and she started kissing me.
I had enough composure to get us into my backseat first, where 'Amy' got into my lap. She lifted up her light blue shirt, but there was no bra covering her two firm breasts. Once I bunched up her skirt, I did feel underwear on her ass, though.
As I felt her up, she went on to unbuckle and unzip my pants, pulling my cock out into the open. She pumped it quickly, so I tried to distract myself by kissing her tits and feeling around her ass and underwear. Yet her hand and thumb got me way too distracted before long.
This woman seemed like a sweet, kind of mousy girl next door when I talked to her in the open. Now she was a red headed vixen doing wonders with her hand. "You gonna cum for me?" she asked eagerly, seeming to enjoy her sexual power over me.
"Do I have to now?" I asked, trying to buy time.
"I guess I should catch up first," she concluded, taking her hands off me and putting my hands on her below. She gave me room to lower her skirt, then she removed my shirt as I put my hands into her panties.
'Amy' kissed and suckled on my neck and upper chest, as I felt around and inside her pussy. She didn't touch my cock, yet her lips -- above and below -- helped me stay hard and throbbing. Once her upper lips got on mine again, she lifted her hips to line her lower lips onto me.
Relief came when she lowered herself down, although I didn't want to feel that much relief so soon. Then again, if she really was an Oscar nominee, how much free time did she have? Then again again, why would an Oscar nominee need to fuck me to feel ready for the Oscars?
But she was fucking me now. Might as well figure out the rest later.
Before then, I went back and forth kissing her breasts, while keeping a hand on her ass and another into her hair. They both felt smooth and soft, and I gripped both of them harder once she started playing with my nipples.
My head laid back, giving me a full view of her beautiful body riding me. The full view of her filled pussy inspired me to rub it while I fucked her, as my other hand went up and down her back. When it got to her ass, she slammed her hips down on me faster.
"Fuck me...now I want you to cum," she urged. I felt like following her orders any second now. However, she only let me have a few more pumps before she lifted her hips up and came off me.
Once my cock was in the open, she covered it up with both her hands. I was entranced by her as she concentrated on my cock -- then when those baby blues focused like that on me, I was a goner.
Somehow, my cum didn't shoot on me, or on her hair or eyes. It got on her chest and as high up as her chin and right cheek, but no higher -- and nowhere too hard to clean up. After we caught our breath, Amy picked up her skirt and got out a tissue, then wiped her cum off me -- although she rubbed some of it on her upper chest.
"There. That should get my mind off a few things tomorrow," Amy praised. Still not completely believing her, and still in a bit of a daze, I just smiled and nodded.
The next night, when I indeed saw Amy Adams on TV and on the Oscar red carpet, I couldn't even do that bare minimum for the rest of the show. Even when she lost.
February 21, 2009
I never expected Amy Adams to be back at that café, the day before her second Oscars. I just went there as an inside joke on myself. Then again, me fucking her before she took off as a household name -- a fucking live action Disney princess at that -- was enough of a joke.
And yet there she was for the encore. She had sunglasses on and was a bit more inconspicuous, now that she was more famous. But the red hair and the clear shock she had at seeing me gave it away.
Nevertheless, she made herself go to my table anyway, although we obviously had no words at first. I tried with, "I wasn't following or waiting for you, I swear. This was just an inside goof."
"Same here," Amy told me. After that irony sunk in, all we could do is laugh.
With the ice broken, I brought up, "So now you're a Disney princess. And you're back at the Oscars for playing a nun." There were too many jokes I could make about that, considering things, but I had too many ideas to pick from.
"Nothing I haven't thought about already, believe me," Amy jumped ahead of me. "But the audiences buy it anyway."
"Or you make them suspend their disbelief very easily. Trust me," I tried to compliment.
"You haven't gotten married or had kids since...then, right?" Amy asked. I said no -- and didn't bring up her own still ongoing, long time relationship she forgot about that day. "And you still went to see Enchanted?"
"I pretty much had to," I told her -- forgoing the temptation to joke about her lyric that lips were "the only thing that touched." Which would also reveal just how much I had seen that movie -- more than a regular single, childless man in his early 30's would see a Disney film.
"You didn't seem like you recognized me in Junebug. But it was a small movie. Doubt was kind of small, but you saw that?" Amy checked.
"I'll save time and say I've seen all your movies now. All five of them since three years ago," I recalled. "Don't worry. You don't have to return the favor by watching my accomplishments. Once I actually have them, however..."
