Bloggers Assemble!: Your Celebrity Sex Fantasy

jlo

Once again, we have assembled a team of elite bloggers — also known as the bloggers who responded to my email — to present a fascinating “question of the month” roundtable. And the question is: If you had one hour to do anything sexual with any celebrity, who would it be and what would you do?

Pretty straightforward. And I’ll just get mine out of the way right now, because it’s been the same for the past 10 years: My face buried under J-Lo’s ass for a solid hour. If she wants to keep her pants on, I’m fine with it. Hell, if she wants to drive over my legs with a truck and set fire to my balls while she’s doing it, I’m still down.

Yes, the endgame would be to actually put my tongue to work for her, but if she just needs a place to sit to read the latest Vogue or call her personal assistant to complain about a stain on her dashboard, I’m there for her. This is J-Lo’s ass on my face, people; I’ve got no business setting guidelines or expectations. I just lay my face down and take it for as long as she gives it. In this case, hopefully, a full hour.

And now, on to our guest bloggers, who I must say did a fucking amazing job with this:

Stephanie from Crazy Beautiful Life: Let me explain something, I have a very strange taste in men. I’m a blue eyed, blonde hair, typical American girl. You know who I go after? Middle eastern guys. I like dark hair, dark features and repressed sexual drives. That’s why if I had an hour to do anything, with any celebrity, I would pick Oded Fehr, and I would totally have him tie me up and make me feel like a prisoner. And then pleasure me. For an hour. And it would be heaven.


Mylene from Mylene’s Musings: It’s like I’m foreshadowing what you fucking perverts (love you guys!) dream up for us to write about here. In the last piece I wrote for you, I made a reference to sitting on George Clooney’s face.

So to answer your question–George Clooney–he’s the celebrity I’d fuck into unconsciousness. And by “fuck into unconsciousness,” I mean that I’m not sure I’d let him come up for air while I sat on his face, so, yeah, he’d probably be unconscious.

I think it’s safe to assume that George has had more than his share of women on their knees, desperate to please him; however my Clooney fantasy involves him pleasing me. My pussy and ass all over that handsome face. Backwards, forwards, clothed, naked–ON HIS FACE. I’d leave his tongue so numb he’d have to star in silent movies for the next few years.

Oh George. Your mischievous eyes, your sly grin that says “I won’t marry you, but I’ll eat you out,” and your rugged salt and pepper facial hair are clear indicators that you should be exfoliating my inner thighs and pussy lips while I baste your beard in my juices. That’s so poetically cheesy, I just came.

If I had any shame, I wouldn’t tell you that I masturbated repeatedly to that scene of him eating out the hooker (romantic, I know) in “The American.” Hell, the eating out was only implied and I was pressing the “back” button like I had trigger finger (which I did, but that was my right hand).

George, you may be dating a retired wrestler, but I promise you that I’ll always keep your head lovingly cradled in a permanent leg-lock between my upper thighs, like a pro. I’m not retiring from my sport anytime soon.


Erin from Loveofmystery.com: “I don’t think of celebrities very often..but if I did, it would be one hour with Paz Vega and maybe another handsome stud friend of hers, also Spanish.”


HLBB from Her Little Black Book: My choice is Idris Elba. And this is how I’d like to wake Idris up in the morning.

Lucky for me, he’s still naked from the night before. Got home late…and whenever he gets home late, he has to have some.

The combination of working and sex knocks him right out.

By the next morning, I have him right where I want him…

He’s slow to wake, but never slow to rise. Groggy and half-cocked, he reaches over to my side of the bed to cop a feel.

But I’m not there…

He grunts and starts to roll over on his side…

But he can’t.

His arm is tied to the post. So are both his legs.

He laughs to himself and sleepily opens one eye. There I am… right where he thought.

Standing at the foot of the bed holding the last of the four red ties. Pouting because he woke up before I could finish tying him up. He smiles.

I smile.

I tie the last red tie loosely around my neck and start to slowly climb on top of him, never breaking eye contact. When I’m about halfway up, I remove the tie, and gently wrap it around his dick. I then pivot myself around so that we’re no longer making eye contact. I pull the knot on the tie a little tighter, then a little tighter still… it may be silk, but I still have to be gentle, yes?

I move the tie up and down… ever so slowly…

When he’s fully awake, I change up the pace with some serious hard stroking with one hand while using the tie as an added sensation. Just as he’s getting into it…

I get up and head downstairs.

Sure, he could easily slip out of the restraints, but why would he want to? He knows I’m coming back…

When I do, I prop up the pillows behind him and then return to the foot of the bed to start to climb him all over again. I remove the last red tie from his dick and restrain his one free hand. Once that’s done, I head back to his dick and spend the next 45 minutes licking every inch of it every which way I can.

When the hour is up… I leave him there…all tied up…and head back downstairs to finish my morning cup of tea.

He could remove the restraints… but he knows I’m coming back.


Sam from Dirty Knickers: I’d just like a few minutes to lick Henry Cavill’s shoulder. And then a few more minutes in his presence to sit and contemplate it.


LA from Chicks in the Mitt: Any celebrity off of my celebrity freebie list. If you’ve ever seen that episode of FRIENDS where Ross gets shot down by Isabella Rossellini for “that guy over there.” Granted, I’m not dating anyone right now, so IF I happened to see Ryan Gosling on the street, I could go and hump him. But the point of it is that it’s my celebrity list. It cannot just be anyone. The list, last checked when I was still actually in a relationship, consisted of Ryan Gosling, Darren Helm, Adam Levine, Matt Nathanson, and Cristiano Ronaldo).


Our own Lascivious Ariel: I was about to launch into a full-bodied, deep-throated tale of love, lust and several body fluids with a fill-in-the-blank hunky celeb, when I remembered watching Showtime’s “Gigolos”. That show, esp. the Oompaloompa dude, has scarred me for life.

Why, you ask? Because the sex scenes are mind-blowingly, excruciatingly, cringe-tingly awful. WTF does that have to do with having hot fantastical celeb sex, Ariel? I mean, do you think you can stick to one fucking topic, is that at all possible, you annoying, shrieking harridan, you ask? Well, because now that is, unfortunately, the ONLY image/situation that comes to mind when I think of getting off with an A-lister.

Wait, I can ‘splain: for me, it would, in effect, be the same as hiring an escort (right? we only get an hour, it’s not like we can go to Yogurtland and Home Depot together) and I’ve seen too many episodes (well, too many, PERIOD) that show women all excited to be getting an hour with the supposed man of their dreams (unless Oompaloompa shows up, then you’re REALLY screwed).

Now that’s a car I could get used to driving.

And then? It’s just clothes being removed like you’re in the dressing room at Ross, awkward and uncomfortable movements in the bed, bath, and beyond, limited eye contact and forced laughter, bad, bad jokes to break the unbearable tension (not sexual, mind you) and enough banal, witty banter and smarmy sweatiness to make me want to run and gurgle Draino as a mind eraser.

And that, my friends, would be my experience of doing anything sexual with any celebrity for an hour.

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