Celeb Fun

A gasp tore from her with a mix of pain and profound, exhilarating invasion. She paused, allowing her body to acclimate, the internal stretch a novel, intense sensation. Then, with a newfound rhythm, she began to move, slowly at first, each thrust a deeper exploration. The friction was incredible, every ridge of her knuckles scraping a live wire inside her. She pressed harder, faster, a frantic energy coursing through her veins. Her breath hitched, ragged and shallow, as the pressure built, an exquisite torture.

Her body hummed with the escalating delight. Her bare ass slapped against the cool floor with each powerful pump, a testament to her uninhibited abandon. Her free hand flew to her breasts, kneading them fiercely, her fingers tugging at the hardened nipples, loving the smooth, taut feel beneath her touch. Her arm became a blur of motion, a piston of pleasure, driving deeper, faster.

The world narrowed to the sensations roaring through her, the primal urge to shatter, to break free. A guttural cry erupted from her as the exquisite pressure became unbearable, a wave building, threatening to engulf her entirely. Finally, with a convulsive shudder that wracked her entire frame, Kelly exploded. "Yes!" The scream was torn from her throat, raw and triumphant, as her body arched, every muscle taut, her release a torrent of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, her juices pulsing forth, painting the skin between her thighs with the sticky evidence of her profound climax. She lay there, trembling, spent, yet utterly, gloriously alive.

The orgasm had been well needed, after a particularly stressful week. She was just starting to gather herself when a sudden, furious thud echoed from the hallway.

Across the landing, the door to Apartment 6F—the source of the earlier sonic assault—flung open. A woman, her sequined top askew and a furious glint in her eye, stormed out, mini-skirt riding high. She was halfway down the hall when a beefy hand snaked out and clamped onto her arm.

“Hey! We hired you for the whole night!” a slurring male voice insisted, pulling her back.

“I was hired to do a strip and perform oral sex on you and your friends, not fuck all twenty of you!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the lingering music. “And if you do not let go of me I will scream the whole place down!”

The man, clearly startled by her ferocity, reluctantly released her. She shot him a venomous glare before turning on her heel and marching towards the stairs, leaving a faint scent of cheap perfume and indignation in her wake.

He shuffled back inside, the door closing with a click that sounded almost apologetic. Kelly, now perched on her knees by her peephole, had witnessed the entire, bizarre exchange. Her eyes widened as she heard the muffled conversation drift through the thin wall.

“So that’s that,” a voice drawled, clearly one of the partygoers.

“Maybe not,” the first man, the one who’d grabbed the stripper, responded, a new note of predatory interest in his voice. “You won’t believe who lives next door.”

A beat of expectant silence. “Who?” came the chorus of voices.

“Kelly Brook,” he announced, as if presenting a rare trophy.

A disbelieving “No way!” erupted from the group.

Kelly, in her apartment, felt a cold knot of dread form in her stomach. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was not in the mood for company, especially not this particular company.

“I’m serious,” he continued, a grin audible in his voice. “Shall I see if she wants to join us?”

Kelly froze. The thought of facing that unruly group, fresh off her own private, very personal moment, and especially after that stripper debacle, sent a shiver down her spine.