Wonderful Stranger

Los Angeles can be a terribly confusing place if you don't know your way around. I didn't. I'd been in the city for less than a day, by myself, hoping to find anyone who could tell me where the hell to go. The hotel wasn't helpful; they just told me where all of the expensive touristy places were. That wasn't what I was interested in. Give me the local flavor any day.

I left the hotel and walked. I walked for hours, just trying to get my bearings and figure out where everything was. It didn't work, and by early evening I was hopelessly lost, and getting worried about finding my way back to the hotel. It seemed like a good neighborhood, but I've never been comfortable speaking with people I don't know. I waited as long as possible before approaching someone.

As I made the decision to ask someone where I was, I saw a man walking down the street smoking a cigarette. There were other people around, but none of them had that cloud around them that indicated they had suicide on layaway. I would have killed for a cigarette at that point. LA will do that to you; I think it's all the "no smoking" signs.

I couldn't tell what he looked like; all I saw was a slender figure with short, dark hair walking the other direction, wearing a dark jacket and slacks. I trotted up to him.

"Excuse me sir. I'm very sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could spare a cigarette, and maybe some directions back to the Roosevelt?"

I almost collapsed when he turned around to look at me. I had just asked to bum a cigarette off of Michael Wincott! I thought maybe I was mistaken, but there just aren't that many people who look like him. The second he opened his mouth I knew I had been right.

"Sure, here you go," he said in that beautiful honeyed-vinegar voice, handing me an American Spirit. "The Roosevelt you say?" God, I had dreamed about that voice.

"Uh...um...yeah. The Roosevelt." I couldn't help stammering. I wanted desperately not to come off like a dweeb, and was afraid I was failing miserably.

"Are you who I think you are?" I asked stupidly.

"Yeah, probably." He held his arm out to light my cigarette for me. I couldn't read the look on his face in the light of dusk. The glowing neon of the bar sign next to us didn't help at all. It could have been appreciation, annoyance; I couldn't tell.

"Wow, it's a pleasure to meet you." I said, getting ready to make my escape. I was thrilled at having met him, but he's known for being somewhat reclusive, and I didn't want to be one of the myriad others who have probably bothered him. I've always felt sorry for celebrities in a way.

"You too."

I turned to start walking the other way. "Hey, didn't you want directions to the Roosevelt?" he asked.

"Yes, but I hate to bother you. I know you must get harassed a lot."

"It's no problem. You've been perfectly respectful. I was just going to a jazz club down the road for a drink; you can join me if you'd like." Apparently the look on his face earlier had been appreciation.

"I'd love to, but I'd really like to get back to the hotel before long. I only got to LA this morning, and I'd rather not be wandering around after dark in a city I don't know."

"Suit yourself, but I'll give you a ride home if you'd like. I can afford my own car, you know." A sly smile spread across his face, the strong lines of his cheekbones framing his eyes.

"Uh, sure. Great. My name's Lara, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

He laughed again, gravelly and deep. "You said that already."

Ah. So I had. So much for not coming off like a dweeb.

********

Michael took me to a tiny jazz club located down the street, though I honestly couldn't pay much attention to my surroundings. No, my eyes were on one thing all evening, and all I could think about was how badly I needed to fuck him. This had been a moment I'd fantasized about for years, and I couldn't believe it was real. Still, I had no idea how he felt about me.

I tried to move past my distraction, and we spoke of the mundane, the supernatural, and religion. We talked about celebrity, films, and music. And finally we talked about relationships.

He wouldn't get much into his own past relationships, but asked me a lot about mine. I'd had a few serious relationships, a couple of fuck buddies, and one engagement in my twenty-six years, but nothing came of any of them. I was single, though there was a man I had been interested in back in St. Louis. He appeared to listen intently as I mentioned all of these things, but I wasn't sure he was paying attention. A gleam in his eyes told me he was a little distracted. Two hours had passed as we sat in the club, each of us sipping our beers, before he finally decided to pay the bill and take me back to the hotel.

The conversation in the club had been interesting, but not particularly sexual. The ride home was entirely different matter. From the moment we got into the dark car, the tension levels started rising, and within minutes it was so thick you could hack it into bits and throw it from the windows. Still, I was terrified of misinterpreting his signals. The thought of embarrassing myself like that in front of him was horrifying, and I didn't say what was really on my mind. I wanted to wrap my lips around his cock. He must have picked up on what I was thinking, because he looked over at me as he drove, and the look in his eyes was naked lust, his obvious erection serving as punctuation. That was what I'd been waiting for.

"Michael, this is kinda hard for me to say, and I'm not saying it because you're famous but because you're sexy as hell..." I hesitated, unsure whether I could continue.

"Yes?" That one word came out as a growl from his lips. Of course, most of his words manage to sound like growls one way or another.

I had to say it. "I want to fuck you so badly right now! I want to wrap my lips around your prick and feel you cum in my mouth. I want to feel your hands on my skin, and I want you to whisper nasty things in my ear, and I want to fall asleep next to you after fucking ourselves into exhaustion. And when we wake up I want to start it all again." Once I had started it was hard to stop; I knew if I didn't lay it all out on the table right now I never would.

For the next ten minutes I was terrified. He didn't say a word, but lit two cigarettes and passed one over to me as we drove to my hotel. The mystery was killing me. We pulled into the hotel parking lot and I was unimaginably relieved when I saw him get out of the car and follow me to the entrance.

We made it back to my room without notice, and I was thrilled when he followed me through the door. We passed a mirror, and I was stunned by our reflection. Here I was, twenty-six years old, standing next to a man I've had wet dreams about since The Crow was released. I stared at myself for a moment, unbelieving. I was feminine and pretty, with a decent figure and nice tits, but not the bombshell I'd expect him to go home with. No, I didn't feel worthy of him.

He must have seen it in my eyes. "You didn't let awe get in the way of treating me like a person. I appreciate that." He wrapped his arms around me from behind, both of us now looking into the mirror. God, he was exquisite.

He leaned in and began kissing my ear as we stared at our reflection, and I turned into the kiss. We stood before the mirror, kissing slowly, passionately, before moving slowly towards the bed.

We made our way to the edge, mouths locked, hands fumbling through our layers of clothing. We stripped each other of our tops as we kissed, random bits of clothing dropping to the floor without notice as our hands slid over flesh. It was amazing, his kisses and stroking fingers exciting my skin and emotions wonderfully.

His mouth worked its way across my cheek, reaching the sensitive skin behind my ear. My legs went wobbly as he buried his face in my dark hair, nibbling his way down my neck before sliding his lips over my collarbone, moving his way down to my breasts. His hands reached around behind me to unhook the bra that still bound my chest, dropping the straps slowly off of each shoulder. He looked thoughtfully at my breasts, full and firm but not too large, before taking a hard nipple into his mouth. The sensation knocked my legs out from under me, and I fell backwards onto the bed.

He sucked at my breasts for several minutes while I reached down between us and tried to unbutton his pants, but the hardness of his cock made the fabric difficult to manipulate. I persevered, but found yet another obstacle. I really hate briefs sometimes.

"Hey, take those off, would you? I'd like to see your cock."

"Sure thing. Just one second here..." He fumbled on the bed for a moment, trying to peel off the tightened fabric. "There, is that better?"

Oh, yes it was! His prick stood out in sharp contrast with the plane of his body, and I could feel a tingling surge of wetness between my legs as I looked at him. It was about average in length, six inches or so, and a bit thicker than was common. It was certainly beautiful to look at.

He was lying on his back as I wrapped my hand around it, squeezing gently. I leaned over him, the tip of my tongue gliding down the length of his shaft from balls to tip. I moved between his legs, sliding my hands up his torso to get the feel of his flesh, and buried my face in his groin, licking and sucking at the bit of skin between balls and thigh. He shivered as my hair ran over his cock, and his hands reached down to stroke my hair as I took his sack into my mouth.

"Ohh, damn darlin'!" His groans were appreciative, and grew louder as I took his cock between my lips and began sucking.

"Do you like what I'm doing?" I asked in a low voice between strokes of my lips.

"Fuck...yes!"

I loved the way his prick felt in my mouth, and I took him as far as I could down my throat, swallowing it all. He held my head a little more firmly now, not forcing at all but guiding, and I knew he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer.

"Stop! Stop! I want to fuck you before I cum," he said, his voice hoarse. I pulled my face from his cock with a last flick of my tongue across the head, watching it jump in response.

He sat up on the bed and slid one hand along my cheek and down my neck, stroking the skin, while the other explored between my thighs. I was sopping wet, my pussy lips swollen and open. Waiting for him. He fingered my clit, rubbing the stiff bit of flesh with just the right pressure, and laughing when I squealed from the intense sensation.

He slid his hand further down my pussy, pushing his fingers gently into me, making sure I was ready. I was more than ready; he didn't have to worry about that. I shoved him back onto the bed, ready to straddle his cock, when I remembered:

"Hey, do you have a condom? No offense, I'm on birth control, but..."

"Shit. No, I don't. I don't make a habit of picking up fans off of the street."

God, I was torn. I wanted to feel him inside me so badly, but still, I didn't know him. I didn't know where he'd been. But even then, I already knew what choice I'd made, and when I slid myself forward on his thighs, he did too.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked. His dark eyes glittered with lust, but concern was there too, peeking through the surface.

"Ooh yes..." I said, stretching my body over his, kissing and sucking on his neck. I took his Adam's apple into my mouth and began sucking gently as I rubbed my wet pussy back and forth along his cock, teasing it with my proximity. I leaned back, letting the tip nearly pierce my hole, before pulling forward again and letting the head rub over my swollen clit. Both of us were groaning, dying for the penetration, but enjoying the torture nonetheless.

At last I sank myself down onto his cock, one slow inch at a time until he was buried to the hilt. I could feel his sack beneath me, the hairs teasing my ass, and I ground myself into him, enjoying the exquisite pressure. He reached around me and grabbed my ass, holding me firmly as he began pounding himself into me. He moved fast and hard, nearly bouncing us off the bed with each stroke, and I could feel the head of his dick striking beautifully against my g-spot.

He slowed down for a moment, getting himself under control as he sat up on the bed. His mouth closed over a nipple, sucking firmly as I rode him, while his hands began stroking my hair and back. The combined sensations were too much, and an orgasm slammed through my body, my screams piercing the air. When he heard me start cumming he began slamming himself hard into me again, one hand tangled in my hair. As the last wave subsided, I collapsed into his arms.

He smiled down at me, his cock harder than ever inside of me, and kissed me sweetly on the forehead before rolling us over on the bed. My legs felt wonderful wrapped around his body. He sat back away from my body a bit and gripped my ankles, placing them on his shoulders as he began pumping himself gently into my body. I loved it, the penetration was wonderful, and again his cock head rubbed perfectly back and forth over that tiny spot inside. The orgasm started building slowly at first, but as he quickened his pace it started coming faster, like a tidal wave ready to hit the coast.

"Ohh, fuck, I'm gonna cum again. Oh, please make me cum, Michael! Fuck me harder, please!"

He slammed himself into me over and over again, grunting softly now with each thrust. I came hard against him, my back bowing as I screamed with the pleasure. He was coming close too, and I ran my hand firmly around the base of his cock as he cried out, holding himself tight against me as his cum streamed into my pussy. A couple of tiny, long-held thrusts and he was done, falling against me from exhaustion.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other, his cock softening inside me as his semen trickled slowly from my body. I lay beneath him, worn but satisfied, and I couldn't believe that I had just had sex with a man I'd fantasized about for years. It was amazing. But still, the source of my awe wasn't so much in that I'd fucked Michael Wincott, the sexiest fucking actor I've ever seen, but that he had been interested in me in the first place.

He slid over onto the mattress, staring into my face as he ran his hand lazily across my naked stomach. "Are you going to be in Los Angeles for a while?"

"No, I've got to leave in a day or two. I just needed to get away by myself for a while, and here I am. But I need to go home soon." I hated having to say that after such a fantastic experience.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "I had a great time with you tonight." His eyes showed the words true, and a smile lit up his face. "Thanks." I still couldn't get over the amazing growl in his voice.

I laughed. "Ooh no! Thank you! I will never, ever forget about this! You're a wonderful man, and I'm sorry that we don't have more time."

"Me too." He got up from the bed and started looking for his clothes. "Hey, it's still pretty early, for LA at any rate. Want to get something to eat?"

"Absolutely! I'm starving."

The two of us got dressed and headed out into the city once more. I'd like to say that we went on to have a fabulous relationship, that we fell deeply in love, etc., but that's not the way life works. I left late the next day, discreetly fingering myself on the highway when I thought about what had happened that night, and I knew we probably wouldn't ever see one another again. But that's alright. I got to do something that I had always dreamed of doing, and I can be satisfied with that.