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My Biggest Fan

by | erotica | 0 comments

She walked into the bar, and time seemed to stop. She was amazing. Jesus. Tell, a little thin for my tastes, but with a big ass. Her ass was just a fucking bubble. She was beautiful. Face like an angel. Thick pouting lips, big brown eyes, shortish brown hair with little streaks of purple and an undercut. She walked in, saw me, did a double-take, and then walked right up to me. 

“I know who you are,” she said with a wolfish grin. 

Who was I? I just smiled and tried to keep cool. 


She sat down at the stool next to me and narrowed her eyes. 

“I’m a big fan,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. 

I got a little excited. It wasn’t every day I met someone who read my work.

“Are you now?” I said, trying to sound confident.

“I walked in, and I was like holy shit, that’s Guy New York. I am like, your biggest fan. @quickienewyork is like my favorite blog. Disgusting Beautiful Immoral was amazing. I’ve read all your books. And I always said if I met you I’d-” she started, but smiled and blushed.

My heart sank. That’s not who I was. That was the blog of a very good friend of mine. People often confused us. He had much better sales numbers than me.

“Huh. A real groupie, huh? You said if you met me, you’d what?” I asked with a chuckle, faking casual cockiness, drinking the rest of my beer, and calling for another.

“I’d fuck you,” she whispered, boldly looking deeply into my eyes.

“Is that right? And in your imagined scenario, I just went along with that?” I said, starting my second beer.

She looked a little hurt, but then the boldness came back. She leaned closer and whispered in my ear.

“I would make sure you’d fuck me by promising to do anything you want. I’ll suck your cock, strip for you, beg you, be your slave, do any depraved thing you want me to do, pretend to be anyone you want me to be, anything just to get your cock inside of me.”

I tried hard not to choke on my beer.

“Well,” I said, looking around the bar.

“You know I like to fuck in the bathrooms of dive bars,” I said, nodding in the direction of the toilets.

She bit her lip and nodded slowly. Then she smiled again, turned, and walked to the bathroom.

I drank most of my second beer and followed after her.

She pushed me against the wall when I got in the door and kissed me hard as she shut the lock. Her lips were so soft, it made my head spin. She smelled amazing, like perfume and flowers and pot and bubblegum. 

She pulled away and looked at me with ferocity. Then she sank down to her knees.

I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up. She looked disappointed, but also turned on by getting her hair pulled.

“No, I don’t want my dick sucked, I want you to fucking bend over the sink and pull down your underwear,” I said, trying to remember the meter of Guy’s writing.

“Yes, sir!” she said, spinning around and pulling up her dress.

I winced.

“Don’t call me, sir. Did I tell you to call me, sir?”

She looked over her shoulder at me, pouting, as she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them.

“I’m sorry. What should I call you? Daddy?” she said, wiggling her naked ass.

Her ass was even better than I imagined, with a vivid tan line.

I laughed.

“No, no, honey, you haven’t even come close to earning the right to call me Daddy. You call me Mister St-um, Mister New York,” I said, almost blowing my cover.

She gave me the big-eyed sulky look.

“I’m sorry, Mister New York. Do you still want to fuck me? I’m awful wet,” she said, turning around and arching her back.

Her pussy was a perfect split peach between her legs. I slipped a finger into her slit and felt silky wetness. My cock was rock hard.

I fished in my pocket, praying I had a condom in there. I didn’t. Why would I? I know not to keep condoms in my pocket. It’s too hot, and they could get ripped by keys or something and fuck!

“Listen, you little slut, I have to go get something, I want you to stay here and finger yourself for me,” I said in a rush.

She looked back at me in confusion.

“You want to fuck me, don’t you? Well, that’s what I want you to do!”

She looked a little scared. But she nodded, bent back over, and slipped her hand between her legs.

“And-um, take out your tits.”

I unlocked the door, ran, and got my messenger back. COndoms, check. I brought four. The bartender glared at me as she dried a glass. Did that happen in his books?

I got back, and she was moaning and panting and fingering herself.

“You better not come!” I said, opening a condom and pulling down my pants.

“Please, Mr. New York, I need your cock so bad!” 

“Badly,” I thought but didn’t say.

Looking down, I realized she was much taller than me. There was no way I could reach her cunt. 

How the fuck did Guy do this? I put one foot on the toilet seat cover, lifted myself up a little, got a better angle, and then heaven opened, and a choir of angels sang. My cock sank into this ridiculously gorgeous woman, who I just met, who thought I was someone else.

I fucked her hard and fast, thinking it may all be over, she might recognize that I’m not him, she might change her mind. 

She whined and moaned and fingered herself as I fucked her. I saw her tits sway in the mirror and reached forward and grabbed one, almost slipping off the toilet.

“Please sir, I mean, Mister York, I mean, can I come please?” she babbled.

“Almost, one more minute,” I said as I pounded into her.

Someone banged on the door, my foot slipped a little, I felt my orgasm start.

“Okay, come!” I said, and she did, screaming like a banshee.

I held on to her big ass for dear life as I came and came, nearly blacking out as I did.

Then we were panting and laughing and kissing again.

We splashed water on our faces, straightened our clothes, flushed the condom, and went back into the bar.

Everyone was looking at us. The bartender looked pissed. I grabbed my bag and dropped a twenty and a ten on the table, and we left.

“God that was amazing. That was even better than I imagined. I can’t believe I actually did it. I hope I make it into one of your stories,” she said, giggling as we made our way through the Lower East Side.

“We’ll see,” I laughed weakly.

We got to the subway, and I gave her an awkward grin.

“Well, our story ends here, I think,” I said, running my hand through my hair.

She frowned and nodded somberly.

“I understand,” she said, and then kissed me sweetly on the lips.

“But Guy, um, before you go, this is awkward, but, um, I’d do anything, even like, really fucked stuff, be like, your slave if you did one more thing for me,” she said, looking scared and taking my hand.

“Um, what?” I asked, worried, and wondering if I could make it down the stairs of the subway entrance and to a transit cop if she went full-on crazy.

She moved in close and kissed my neck, then whispered.

“I would degrade myself in ways even you couldn’t imagine, if you would introduce me to Writing Dirty,” she said, taking my hand and pushing it up her body to cup her breast.

I stepped away.

“Hah, oh, right, yeah, Jack? Um, message me on Tumblr, I’ll see what I can do.”

And with that, I turned and ran for the train.

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