Britney Story

Having emptied my seed deep into my dream girl for one last time, I now stripped from my crimson bra and panties, leaving them on the bed as I wandered into Britney's bathroom to clean up. I took of the blonde wig and cleaned the smudged make-up from where it remained on my face, each moment making myself less and less Rachel and more and more Rich. Coming back into the bedroom, I found where I had discarded my ordinary, masculine clothes the night before and, regretful at all I was now leaving behind, put them back on, now totally transformed into the man I had been this time the day before, before all the wonderful things of this night, when fucking Britney Spears was just a wild fantasy of mine.

I was walking out of the bedroom, back to my own life, and I turned back to say one final goodbye to my adored superstar lover of the previous night. That stunning blonde scantily dressed creature came over to me, holding out the dark red panties that I had worn before, the panties of hers that I had been holding to my nose when she first discovered me spying from her wardrobe. How much had changed between us since then. Then I was a slightly scary, creepy intruder, but now I had become her passionate girlie lover. The panties that I had once sniffed and then worn as I was femininely deflowered represented how much I'd changed that night and how much Britney had experienced with me.

"Keep these," she said, pressing the lacy panties, both stiff with my cum and soft, into my hands, "Keep them as a memento of me...and Rachel."

I smiled gratefully at her, this was the last time that I would ever be this close to the world's sexiest star.

"I'll never forget this as long as I live," I said, pressing my lips to hers, tasting her taste for one last time.

"Neither will I," were her last words to me as I turned my back and walked out of her hotel suite and out of her life.

It was just becoming light as I crept down the stairs of the hotel and, stopping off only to return the hotel keys that I had stolen from Lydia, the chambermaid, out onto the street. There were a few people out and about but nobody recognised me or even looked very hard at me, quite fortunately I thought, as I hurried back home to my apartment to get a few hours sleep before I would have to go back to the hotel later in the day. I was working the afternoon-evening shift and Britney and her people had already checked out and headed off for the next date of the tour when I got in. My colleagues, naturally, noticed the glow of happiness that I was radiating but were convinced that this stemmed purely from the pleasure of seeing Britney in concert. Nobody even slightly suspected the truth of the matter and, quite frankly, why would they? It was so ridiculously unusual that even I had to reassure myself that it had really happened to me.

A month or so later and my year in America was up and I returned to England to settle into a somewhat more mundane life. I got a reasonable paying office job which I still work and met a new girlfriend, Shelley, who I moved in with after three months. Not long after returning to England, I, along with the rest of the world, read in fascination about Britney's marriage to Kevin Federline, and just as I write this I've recently heard that she's pregnant, I wonder how she'll manage to pull that one off! At first I felt a natural pang of jealousy against the man I perceived Britney had chosen over me, I even hoped that the rumours of their marriage problems were true, but after a while I came to except that a relationship between Britney and me would never have worked out, after all she was the world's greatest pop star and I was a nobody, still am actually. So, I wish her every happiness and success in her marriage and, if it doesn't work out, she knows where to find me. Well, actually she doesn't but I'm sure she could find out.

As you may have guessed, I never heard from Britney again. Shelley doesn't really understand my continued obsession with Britney, she prefers old-fashioned soul and r 'n' b music, and, at her request, the gold hot-pants poster is gone. But I still listen to her albums; they offer me a constant reminder of that wonderful night we spent together. Shelley tolerates this, she realises Britney is a part of me, although she doesn't know just how much of a part. She doesn't know the truth; I don't know how she would react to it so she doesn't need to know. My sex life with Shelley is regular and fairly enjoyable, I can't really complain. Since my night of passion in San Diego, I have never again had the chance to enjoy the pleasures of sucking a firm hard cock or having one thrust deep between my arse cheeks. I like to lap up my cum from Shelley's pussy after sex which she thinks is a little odd, so I can't imagine what she'd think if she knew all my thoughts and fantasies.

As for Rachel, well she does manage to make the occasional appearance. On the nights when Shelley is away from home, anybody looking into my house would see a gorgeous woman who looks just a little bit like me, dressed in one of Shelley's tight mini-skirts with one of her bras stuffed to fill out like breasts. They would see this Rachel load up a store of pictures on her computer of shemales and Britney Spears downloaded from the Internet. They would see her pull up the mini-skirt to reveal a bulging erection inside a very sexy, very special pair of crimson lace panties that may once have belonged to the world's biggest pop star. They would see Rachel stroke her cock through the red panties until she creamed inside them. Then she would take them off and lick the panties clean of her creamy juices and you might see a grin spread across her lips, painted with Shelley's lipstick, and a glow of inner happiness not seen in sex with Shelley.

These stolen moments are the moments when I feel closest to the memories of my wonderful night with a sexy superstar. It was in the trawl through Internet porn sites for some of these pictures to get me off that I came across literotica. I read, and was very turned on by, all the fictional fantasies of Britney sex and suddenly I had an idea. I had to keep Britney's secret to myself, I could never tell anybody and this was killing me. But I could get the story out of my head here. Most people will just dismiss it as erotic fan fiction, never knowing the truth, so Britney's secret is safe. Even if people suspect the truth, if you've read this far in the story you're probably pretty open-minded and so I ask you to keep the sexy secret with me. People may think it's all fiction but for me, reading over my account will always remind me that just for once, for a few hours, all my fantasies of sex with an iconic beauty were fulfilled and well surpassed and that's a memory I will treasure forever even if I never here anything of the name Britney Spears again.

THE END

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