Sexgames Ch 15

Mikayla and I had a great time on the virtual yacht out on the virtual Mediterranean Sea. Thanks to Vira, my wife and daughter would never even realize that I was gone. Controlling time has its advantages.

I knew that I was falling hard for Mikayla, and I was hoping I'd find a solution. One that would let me have what I wanted without anyone getting hurt. I was contemplating my choices when another critical question arose. Would I really desire Mikayla above all else for the rest of my life? Or, in my case, possible lives? Or was she just a phase that would burn out eventually?

Having learned about Vira's powers, which can erase someone's memory or embed new ones, gave me more options than ever. I wouldn't even have to hit the reset switch if I didn't want to. I could simply erase Mikayla's memories of our adventures. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I could if I had to.

I needed some time to clear my head. I looked into Mikayla's eyes as I was about to give the command to return to my basement lab. It was at that moment that I telepathically gave Vira the command to freeze time for Mikayla.

"Time is frozen for Mikayla," Vira said.

"Now, send me somewhere," I said. "Somewhere I can clear my head. I don't even care where."

"Understood," Vira said.

Vira worked her magic, and in an instant, I was standing in a large hallway in the bowels of what appeared to be a large stadium. I could hear a buzzing noise that could only be the sound of tens of thousands of fans out in their seats.

"Where am I, Vira?" I asked.

"Dublin, Ireland," Vira replied in my head.

"Am I me?" I asked.

"I'd certainly hope so," the machine quipped.

"You know what I mean," I said. "What year is this?"

"2024," Vira said.

"Am I here for some kind of soccer match or something?" I asked.

"No, John," Vira said. "A concert."

"Interesting," I said as one of the doors close to me opened up, and a tall, leggy blonde appeared. She was wearing black yoga pants and a tight red tank top.

"What's interesting?" she asked, looking around to see who I'd been talking to.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself," I said as I looked into eyes. They were a stunning shade of blue.

"Better be careful. Someone might think you're crazy," she said with a smile. It was at that moment that I realized I was talking to Taylor Swift.

"I can assure you I'm quite sane. Though, I guess that's exactly what a crazy person might say, right?" I asked. "By the way, I'm John. John Stevens."

"Hello John, John Stevens," Taylor said. She looked down at the badge that was hanging from a lanyard around my neck. "I'm Taylor, Taylor Swift."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, taking her in. "So, you're a smartass, huh?"

"I am! You have no idea," she laughed. "You're with the label?" she asked. She was quite beautiful and even warmer than the Taylor from the earlier simulation. All of Vira's vast capabilities started to run through my head.

"You own a large part of Universal Music," Vira said. Of course, only I could hear her.

"Yes, I am," I said. "I figured it was time for me to catch one of your shows. I've heard they are quite legendary."

"Thank you, John," Taylor said. "How have we never met before this?"

"Bad luck on my part, I guess," I said.

"I was on my way to stretch and get warmed up. Care to join me?" she asked, her blue eyes were intoxicating.

"Sure, why not? I'm sure I won't hurt myself too badly," I replied. The idea of spending some one-on-one time with Taylor Swift was surreal. Knowing Vira's bag of tricks, I believed I understood why she put me here.

Taylor led me down the hall and into a private room. The space was spacious yet cozy. It had a plush carpet and a few yoga mats laid out on the floor. A full-length mirror covered one wall.

Taylor dropped to the mat effortlessly. Her body moved with a grace that seemed almost ethereal. I joined her, albeit a bit less gracefully.

"So, what brings you to Dublin?" she asked, leaning forward to touch her toes.

"Mainly business," I said. "And the chance to see one of your shows, of course."

"Flattery will get you everywhere, John," she laughed softly.

"I aim to please," I said.

We continued stretching in silence for a few moments. I could feel the tension building inside me. I wondered which of Vira's powers I should use, if any. Taylor moved through a series of stretches with ease, and I did my best to keep up with her.

"So," she said after a while, looking at me through the mirror's reflection. "How long are you in town for?"

"A few days," I said.

"Same, the tour is here for three nights. Would you want to join me for dinner after the show tonight?" she asked casually. "I'd love to get to know more about the man behind the label."

"I'd like that," I said. Even knowing I had Vira's powers, I was still excited at the thought of spending some time with the beautiful pop superstar.

Taylor finished her stretches and stood up, extending a hand to help me to my feet. Her grip was firm yet gentle.

"I should get ready for the show," she said, her eyes lingering. "You're a bit taller than Travis."

"Just by an inch or so," I said. Taylor cocked her head to one side and looked at me quizzically. "Sorry, I know way too many football stats," I laughed awkwardly. "Fantasy football is an addiction."

"You're an interesting one," she smiled and then headed towards the door. "See you later, John. Don't stand me up!"

As she walked away, I couldn't help but marvel at how quickly Vira had once again turned my life into something out of a fantasy. It occurred to me that I hadn't thought about Mikayla once over the past half hour. It felt good. I resolved myself to continue enjoying the moment. The future could wait. I put my faith in Vira and believed that this adventure was to teach me something that I needed to know.

I stood there for a moment longer and looked at myself in the mirror before heading back into the corridor. There were a lot of people mulling around, getting ready for the show. I walked out into the stands. The atmosphere was electric. I walked up closer to the stage to take it all in.

A guy around my age wearing a tour shirt walked up to me. He looked down at the badge on the lanyard around my neck. "Hi, I'm Mark," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Taylor's tour manager. You want to hang backstage, or I can have someone take you up to the box," he said, pointing to one of the luxury suites.

"Nice to meet you, Mark, I'm John," I said. "The suite sounds great. I won't get into anyone's way up there."

"Get in the way all you want," he smiled. He grabbed the walkie-talkie on his belt and clicked the button on the side, "Hey, Emma. I have a VIP here for you to take up to the suite."

"Oh, I'm sure I can find my way," I said.

"Emma will be happy to escort you," Mark said as a young woman appeared. "Emma, this is Mr. Stevens. Take good care of him!"

"Thanks, Mark," I said and shook his hand.

"Hi, Mr. Stevens," Emma said with a bright smile. She was stunning. She was about 5'8" and slender. Her long dark hair framed her cute face perfectly. It cascaded in soft waves that accentuated her high cheekbones. Her green eyes sparkled with a vibrant energy.

"Please, call me John," I replied.

"All right, John. Follow me," she said, her tone confident as she turned and led the way.

I followed without a word, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Emma moved with the kind of confidence that didn't ask for attention but commanded it anyway. Her black pencil skirt hugged her hips like a second skin, each step measured and smooth. The crisp white blouse she wore clung just enough to hint at her shape beneath, buttoned high enough to maintain a professional appearance but low enough to keep it interesting.

Her heels clicked against the concrete stairs, sharp and rhythmic, with each step echoing through the narrow corridor like a countdown. Behind us, the sound of the crowd surged louder, a living, breathing thing that pulsed through the walls and floor. You could feel it building. It was the kind of excitement that meant the show was minutes away from detonation.

Backstage was organized chaos, a hive of movement and noise where everyone had a role and no one needed to be told twice. Technicians hovered over control panels, eyes locked in concentration as they fine-tuned the gear. Roadies moved like ghosts, slipping between shadows with cables over their shoulders and flight cases in tow. Dancers lined the far wall, stretching, bouncing in place, their bodies already synced to a beat the rest of us hadn't caught yet.

Even when she wasn't in the room, Taylor's presence reverberated through the walls. Every mic check, every whisper through a headset, every second of backstage tension seemed to orbit around her. It wasn't just prep; it was devotion. Every movement, every adjustment, every person here was playing a part in her storm.

And Emma moved through it like she belonged to the rhythm. She was not a bystander. She didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. She walked with purpose, knowing exactly where to go, who to nod at, and how to get my attention.

I watched her, not just because she looked good doing it, but because there was something magnetic about how seamlessly she fit into the current. A different kind of power. Less spotlight and more control room.

She turned just before we reached the final hallway, glancing back over her shoulder. A stage light caught the edge of her dark hair, lighting it up like a halo with sharp edges. Her eyes locked on mine.

"So," she said, "are you excited for the show?" Her voice was casual, but the question wasn't.

And yeah, I was. But not just for the show.

I smiled. "Absolutely. I've heard Taylor's something else live."

Emma's lips curved into a slow, knowing grin. "Oh, she is. She doesn't just perform. She owns the night. Every damn time."

We reached a hallway lined with posters from past tours, blown-up moments frozen in time. Taylor mid-note. Taylor mid-spin. Taylor lit like a goddess on fire.

At the end of the corridor, we stopped in front of a sleek door marked VIP Suite. Emma paused, glanced down at my badge, and then met my eyes.

"You're with the label?" she asked, her voice casual.

"Yes," I said. "It seems I own a decent portion of it."

"Wow," Emma said and paused for a moment. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into an empty lounge across the hall from the VIP Suite.

"What are you doing, Emma?" I asked.

"I want to give you my demo," she said, pulling an SD card out of her phone. "Don't tell anyone, please. I'd get fired in an instant, and I love this job. I really do." She looked me in the eyes and pressed the card into my hand.

"I'd be happy to listen to--" I started but was distracted as Emma dropped to her knees in front of me.

She didn't speak right away. She just looked up, that grin curling at the corners of her lips like she was about to break a major rule.

"What are you doing?" I asked, even though I already knew.

"Hopefully," she said as her fingers moved to my zipper with unapologetic ease, "making an impression."

Her tone was playful, but there was a current underneath, something deliberate. Her eyes never left mine as she eased my pants open, slow and certain. No hesitation. No shame. Just bold, practiced confidence that turned my blood molten.

She freed my cock with a smooth pull, her breath cascading over it as she leaned in closer. The rush hit fast; adrenaline, disbelief, pure hunger. The sheer audacity of it all, we were backstage, behind the noise and chaos, with her on her knees like she was part of the show, slammed into me like a freight train.

"You sure about this?" I asked, my voice low, a half-hearted reach for civility. Emma just smiled, wicked and sure.

"Don't play innocent now, John," she said, her fingers curling around my cock with casual command. "You've been hard since we started climbing the stairs."

Any attempt at restraint shattered right then. Her words sliced through what was left of the façade. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I wasn't about to stop her.

Emma gave me a wicked grin and then leaned in without a word. Her tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, tracing the tip of my cock with a teasing lick that sent a shock straight through my spine. I exhaled hard, my body twitching under the sudden jolt of pleasure.

She liked that.

Her lips parted, and she took me into her mouth. She was warm, wet, and perfect. The pressure was immediate. Her tongue swirled as she slid down my shaft with practiced grace. I groaned as the sensation wrapped around me. She moved with intention, not rushed, not hesitant, just that smooth rhythm that let me know she'd done this before and knew exactly how to ruin a man in the best possible way.

My cock thickened in her mouth, swelling with every pass of her lips. She welcomed it, taking more, pushing deeper. Her hand gripped the base as her mouth worked the rest, and I could feel every nerve light up like it was wired directly to her.

She looked up at me then, eyes full of heat, mouth full of me, and in that moment, I was hers.

Her head began to bob rhythmically up and down as her tongue swirled around my shaft. I groaned and gripped the edge of a nearby counter for support. This was obviously not Emma's first blowjob. The girl knew exactly what she was doing. Her movements may even have been more rehearsed than Taylor's dancers' moves.

She looked up at me, her green eyes hungry with lust. That gaze sent another wave of pleasure through me. Emma was a naughty girl, no doubt about it. She seemed to revel in her powers, taking pride in every moan and gasp she elicited from me.

"Holy fuck, yes," I said as I watched her.

Emma's mouth worked its magic as she increased her pace. Her head moved faster now, taking me deeper in as she devoured me.

"Fuck, Emma," I groaned.

Emma pulled back for a moment, her lips leaving my cock with a soft pop. "You like that?" she asked, then smiled. I had a vivid flashback to Mikayla on the deck of the yacht. I could see myself spending more time with Emma.

"God, yes," I said. "I do."

"Good," she smirked before diving back in. This time, she went all out, taking me all the way to the hilt. Her throat contracted around my cock as she deep-throated my entire length. It was a sensation that was almost too much for me to bear.

My free hand found its way into her dark hair, guiding her movements as she continued sucking my cock. Each motion brought me closer and closer to sweet release. I watched Emma and realized I hadn't used any of Vira's tricks on her. Sure, she thought I could make her a music star, but still, it felt good. It felt real.

I moaned out as I felt my balls welling up. Emma's lips were a vice, a velvety, wet vice that was pushing me to the edge. Her eyes locked onto mine, and at that moment, I knew I was done.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," I moaned, though by the look on her face, it was clear she already knew. She didn't pull back. If anything, she doubled down, sucking even harder. Her well-manicured hand cupped my balls, applying just the right amount of pressure. It felt so damn good. With a deep groan, I let go. I grabbed her hair as I exploded in her mouth.

Wave after wave of hot, thick cum shot from my cock. Emma took it all like a pro, not a single drop spilling from her soft lips. She swallowed, her throat working around my sensitive tip. The sensation was so intense, so exquisite, that I saw stars.

As the last of my orgasm subsided, Emma pulled back, releasing me from her mouth. She licked her lips, cleaning away any residue of my release, and then she smiled. It was a satisfied smile that made me like her even more.

"You're quite the talent, Emma," I said. I took a deep breath and admired her beauty.

"Thank you, John," she replied, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. "I'm a pretty good singer, too," she laughed. "I hope you enjoy my demo, and I hope you enjoy the show."

With that, she kissed me and then turned and walked out of the lounge. I took a moment to collect myself and catch my breath. I adjusted my clothes, still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasm. I took a moment to process the whirlwind of the past few minutes. "Thank you, Vira," I thought.

I stepped out into the hallway, still a bit dazed. I made my way across the hall to the VIP suite. The sound of the crowd's anticipation was growing louder by the minute. As I entered the suite and took in the view of the stage and the sea of fans, I couldn't help but smile.

The suite was the epitome of luxury. There were plush seats arranged to give a perfect view of the stage below. There was a fully stocked bar along one wall and large windows that offered a sweeping view of the stadium.

Maybe the world was a lot bigger than Mikayla. Not that she wasn't a great companion. You all know how great of a companion she has been. But I was a man, and we often find it hard not to give in to our primal urges. There were a lot of things for me to figure out, but I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present. Tonight was about enjoying an incredible performance and maybe getting to know Taylor Swift a bit better.

I stood at the window and looked down at the crowd. It was one hell of a spectacle to take in. The energy of the fans and the enormity of the stage and lighting rigs were beyond other concerts I'd attended.

I should have stayed focused on the moment, on the spectacle that was about to unfold, but my mind wandered to Emma.

The lounge. Her touch. Her lips. The way she had looked at me like she knew something I didn't want to admit.

Guilt hit me in the ribs like a punch I should've seen coming. Mikayla's face flickered in my mind, not angry, just distant. The kind of distance that grows silently, step by step, until one day it becomes a chasm.

Nothing was simple anymore. And maybe that was my fault.

The soft click of the suite door snapped me back into reality.

A small crowd filtered in. There were producers, label execs, familiar faces from red carpets, and backstage handshakes. The kind of people who always looked like they ruled the world. They chatted in tight clusters, glasses in hand, smiles polished but hollow. A few heads turned my way. Nods. Recognition. The subtle sizing up that came with the territory.

Then she walked over.

Sleek black hair, razor-cut bangs, blood-red lipstick that didn't flinch. Her eyes locked on mine like she already knew me. She extended her hand with the confidence of someone used to owning every room she entered.

"John Stevens, right?" she said, her tone smooth but sharp, like glass hidden in silk. "I'm Vanessa, from marketing at Universal. It's great to finally meet you."

Her grip was firm. Her smile practiced. But her eyes lingered just a little too long. And just like that, the room got a little warmer.

I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Vanessa. Enjoying the evening so far?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. Taylor is awesome. Have you met her yet?"

"Briefly," I replied, thinking back to our stretching session. "She seems lovely."

"She is," Vanessa said.

"Excuse me," a man interrupted. "Are these two seats taken?"

"No," I said as I looked at him. I was sure I'd seen him before.

"I'm Bono," he said as he shook my hand. "This is my daughter Eve."

"Very nice to meet both of you," I said. "I'm John Stevens."

As we continued to chat, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living someone else's life. Here I was, about to watch one of the biggest pop stars in the world strut her stuff onstage. There was another massive pop star sitting next to me. I had just had a dalliance with a beautiful woman who thought I could help make her dreams come true.