Leering There

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The stories in the "Celebrity" section of Literotica are all fictional parodies - none are true, nor are they approved of by the celebrities named in the stories. Authors write these fictitious stories about famous people for the same reason that Larry Flynt made fun of Jerry Falwell, because they can. The Supreme Court of the United States, the country where this site is located, has ruled that parodies involving famous people are perfectly and totally legal under the United States Constitution. The specific case law on this was decided in the case of "Hustler Magazine, Inc. et al. v. Jerry Falwell" in 1988. No harm is intended toward the celebrities featured in these stories, but they are public figures and in being so, they must accept that they are fair target for parodies by the public. We believe in the first amendment, and more broadly, in the basic principle of free speech and this section may push the boundaries of that principle, but the United States Supreme Court has approved of this type of material. We believe that the Supreme Court was correct in their decision.



It was under gravely unfortunate circumstances that I arrived at the front gate of the Rand estate, for the owner, Ben, had passed on a mere two days prior to my getting the call asking to come back for a second interview for the chief gardener's position. His widow, Eve, had asked that the gatekeeper taxi me to the front door, where she'd be waiting. It took a solid 3 minutes to wind past the babbling brooks and endless rows of green life, the sight of which made me question whether I really wanted to take this job.

But my doubts were assuaged upon seeing the fine broth of a lynx that Eve Rand was. Though of advanced age, Eve was very much in the prime of her womanhood. She began to wave at me, her fiery red hair catching my eye and not letting go. I shouted 'hello' from inside the vehicle as it pulled up to the front door. Once parked, Eve opened the door and graciously extended her fair hand.

"Thank you for coming back," Eve said, staring me straight in the eyes. She smelled of cinnamon and Vidal Sassoon, typical of a well-to-do feminine wonderslice.

"The pleasure is all mine," I replied, stepping out of the car. "I am sorry to hear about your husband."

"Oh dear," Eve gasped, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. Her face seemed swollen from a night of choking down tears and wiping clean runny mascara from her cheeks. "He lived a good life. I will miss him much."

We walked through the main corridor, heading toward the office where we had spoken during my first interview. Inside, a friendly looking gentleman was watching an old black and white television that was inside of a cedar wood cabinet near one of the windows. That was Chance Gardner, who has shacked up at the Rand estate ever since he was forced out of his previous home.

"Anything good on, Chance?" I asked, hoping to reestablish our friendly rapport from last time.

"Yes," Chance said matter-of-factly, his eyes remaining fixed on the set in front of him.

"Right," I said, always feeling awkward when left with such silence. Eve walked in, carrying a pitcher of lemonade.

"I remember you liked lemonade Mr....?"

"Solver. Oliver Solver."

"Oliver Solver," Eve repeated, with a funny grin on her face. "That name has a rhythm to it that I enjoy."

"You like the rhythm?" I inquired, taking a peak at her fine pair of legs.

"She enjoys you," Chance said with a smile on his face that wasn't going anywhere soon. "She enjoys your rhythm."

"I also admire how you keep the hedges trimmed," I remarked, trying to steer the conversation down a flirty path.

"It's a job for several men; I hope you understand," Eve said, keeping the conversation strictly business...for now.

"Why have one hired hand when you can have several?" I said coyly, hoping to see her laugh again like I remembered. She did.

"You can never have too many hands at your service," Eve said with a hint of passion in her tone. "Now I have just a few more questions for you, Mr. Solver, pertaining to your bedside manner."

"Bed..side.... manner?" I replied, not believing my ears.

"Flowerbed... your handling of my plants out in the garden," she clarified, taking a careful sip of her lemonade. "I need a man who knows what to do with his hands once he rolls up his sleeves."

I could see it in here eyes. She wasn't so much interested in my gardening talents, which were marginal at best under my own admission. She was looking for a young buck to pack the soil into her soft earth patch.

"The 'hand,' Ms. Rand, is only one of the tools at the gardener's disposal," I said, feeling the spice in the air. "Fertility requires a man to get down on his knees and put his full body into it."

I could tell she was catching my drift. "Tell me more about the tools at your disposal. I need to know you are well equipped before you get your hands dirty."

That was wealthy white woman talk for "pull out your dong." Feeling a bit self-conscious, I hesitated to reach for my zipper, even though Chance seemed oblivious in the background.

"Oh, don't mind Chance," Eve said over the soft drone of the television set. "He's right where he belongs."

With that bit of assurance, I dropped trou and released my 8-inch throbbing member for all the room to see. Eve's jaw dropped at the site of my special hose, licking her lips in delight. "Does that tool stay on your belt when you work?" she asked.

"That's the ticket," Chance shot out, drawing a confused look from Eve, though I knew he was repeating what was just said on television.

"It never leaves my side," I answered back, seeing that Eve was walking slowly toward me. Her eyes were fixed on my meat lodge, it seemed like she hadn't seen one in a while.

"This concludes part one of the oral exam. If you don't mind, I'd like to take over for part two."

Dropping to her knees, Eve began to massage her fingers through my balls as she pulled her head toward my penis. From my vantage point, I could see down her dress, noticing perky nipples pressed firmly against her bra. Her tongue began to round my mountain, sending a tickle down my spine.

"Cable's out," Chance said, as I turned to notice the television was shut off.

"Then go read a fucking book somewhere," I responded, rubbing my hands through her wild burst of crimson colored hair.

"I don't know how to read," Chance said, his eyes now firmly fixed on the suckfest before him.

"Chance can watch," Eve responded, withdrawing her mouth to kiss my stomach. "He likes to watch."

"I like to watch," Chance reiterated, which didn't bother me as long as I got to plunge my stiff tool into her soil pocket. "I saw this on television once."

"Oh yeah?" I shot back with a cocky tenor to my voice. "You ever see one of THESE on television?"

Just then, I grabbed Eve's sides, her mouth still full of hot cock, and turned her upside down into a piledriver position. I proceeded to rip her pants off and with my hands, slid her panties over her legs to see a carpet that matched the curtains, just as the sage in my dream predicted.

"Little House on the Prairie!" Chance said with some glee. "You're churning the butter."

"Yea, shit, I gotta make enough butter to feed a family of five for the winter, Chance," I answered, burying my face into her well-groomed pussy, still saucy after all these years. "My face just Michael Landin-ed into your muff, Mrs. R."

"Eat me like a funnel cake!" Eve responded, continuing to churn my butterstick with drool running down my cock. "I slaved at the stove all day for you to fuck it!"

"Oh God," I said, letting my tongue savor the flavors of a great Nordic fawn. "You put sugar on top of it this morning, didn't you, you fucking whore?"

"Yes, but I love....your...nutmeg....oh FUCK!"

Just then, I let myself collapse onto the sofa behind us, where I spun her around and proceeded to let her grind her sweet semen trap into my tool. She rode me like the carousel stallion her neglectful father wouldn't buy for her as a child.

"FUCK ME I AM A FIELD!" She screamed, grabbing holding of the window drapes as my manhood shook her to the core. "I HAVE SO MANY SEEDS IN MY SOIL! THEY WON'T...GROW...UNLESS YOU FUCK THEM SILLY!"

"AGH! TILL THE LAND! TILL THE LAND! AAAHH!! I'm FUCKING IRRIGATING YOUR PUSSY!!!"

"FUCK ME OUT OF FALL! FUCK ME OUT OF WINTER! MAKE IT SPRING! MAKE ME CUMMMM LIIKKEE ITTTSSS SUMMMERRR!!!"

That did it for me, as my cock unleashed a flood of love juice inside of her, her vagina walls constricting once they felt the coating. That was, by and far, the best I've ever had, as my sexual moors enveloped me into a state of tranquility. Eve proceeded to kiss my chest as I looked up at Chance Gardener, who looked like he had something to say.

"I think you got the job," Chance said, pointing his remote at the television, turning it on to find the cable had come back. And you know what? I sure did.