🍎Applehead🍎

“You don’t think it might be a bit late to be watchin’ our videos, Michael?” Your voice was light, barely loud enough for him to hear you over the music. You agreed to Michael that you would spend a little more intimate time with him after you’d been so preoccupied with the kids and their extracurricular activities.

Tiana in music club, Brandon in basketball, Junior preparing for football season, Mari going into Space Camp, and finally, Jasmine going into cheerleading. It’s been a lot more than you could handle, and Michael wanted so badly to be more present, but he had to be out on the road for press tours and charity events. He promised that it was all for you and his babies; he clearly wanted to make it up to you. You gave Michael the creative freedom to plan what you two would be doing tonight, but you might be regretting it.

“I don’t think it’s ever too late, Mrs. Jackson. It could be the break of dawn, and I wouldn’t ever get tired of seein’ you.” Michael smirked at you after briskly pressing play on the remote. The beginning of the song- those familiar chords initiated. That alluring voice of yours from your youth lifted above the melody:

“There’s something I have to say to you. If you promise you’ll understand. I cannot contain myself when I’m in your presence. I’m so humble. Just touch me. Don’t hide our love. Woman to man.”

Your hands shot up to cover your face in embarrassment after listening to your own declaration of desire for him. Your cheeks burned into a pink hue, blushing adorably. A playful chortle slipped from his lips, high-pitched and soft. Weightless as always, but always affected you. His large and soft palms raised up to your delicate hands, pulling them down gently from your face, uncovering a hesitant smile that was smeared across your face. When he saw your face once again, he was met with your unsuccessful attempt at stopping a smile before it stretched across your lips.

“Why you coverin’ your face from me, Mama? Come on… You promised you’d watch this with me…” He giggled at your bashful reaction to your unapologetic yearning in the song. That same declaration you gave him behind closed doors all those years ago. You grew up so much from that point in time, becoming a little reserved in your older age. Times like these made you wish you were young and free again. When you could be as open with your feelings of intimacy as you wanted, people would just call it growing pains. Now, you had to set those feelings aside in order to put your family first.

“‘Cause, Michael… It’s embarrassin’. I don’t want to be reminded of our dirty dancin’ from when I was…God, I couldn’t be more than twenty-one.” You released a breathy chuckle, your eyes focusing on your image on the video. Those lines of yours were…perfect. When Michael stood up from the bed, you watched him intently.

“Michael? Where you goin’, huh?” Your eyes never left his body as he elegantly graced your bedroom. As he walked, you noticed that silk press sway in the air; you had to sit back and just admire him. He opened up the double doors of the walk-in closet, wandering inside and fiddling with the contents inside. “Hold on, baby. I’ll be right back. Just wait and watch how pretty you look on the screen.”

“Oh, c’mon Michael. I don’t wanna be reminded of how tight and fit I was… now I’m-..” You watched yourself on the screen just as Michael asked. You spoke back to him, not feeling the best about seeing your young self on the screen, but your husband stopped you promptly. Before you could say anything remotely negative about yourself.

Once your husband finally emerged from that huge closet, his hands were glued behind his back. “Now, you just stop right there. That woman up there… this woman in front of me is my wife. You are still incredibly irresistible. I know I can’t resist ya.” You could hear the sound of metal clashing, almost like the sound of chains. A mischievous grin was plastered across his face, that cheeky closed-mouth smile where his teeth were begging to be showcased. But he managed to hold back. He noticed that nervous look on your face upon hearing those chains. “You heard that didn’t you, mama? It’s okay, you don’t gotta be scared…”

“Whatchu got behind your back, Michael?”

“It’s okay… just relax… Just wanna try somethin’ I saw on uh… HBO.”

You laughed, throwing your head back in surprise at his answer. He dropped his shoulders and rolled his eyes at you. You could tell he was growing a bit frustrated at you not taking him seriously as he was taking this. You always did play too much when it was just you and him. Made you feel like a girl again.

“Real mature, baby…” Michael grumbled.

Your hands slid down to your stomach, grabbing at your sides, feeling them splitting because you knew exactly what he’d been watching in his free time.

“HBO, Michael? You been sneak watchin’ ‘Real Sex,’ haven’t ya? I thought I put a block on that channel.”

“Maybe you ain’t blocked it good enough... but there’s some good stuff on there… I just wanna show you somethin’. Just take me serious. I promise you won’t regret it…”

Michael got closer to you; his hands still glued to his back, he leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. That gentle sound of metal clashing against each other caught your attention once again, but you, nonetheless, leaned into Michael’s sweet kiss.

“Mm-… fine. Just because we old now don’t mean we gotta be all serious all the time, bae. But you not gonna tell me what you got behind your back?” You probed once again, and your husband shook his head, waving that silk press from side-to-side. A gentle chuckle escaped his lips upon seeing how curious you were. “Go ahead and close your eyes. Go ahead. And no peeking! I can tell when you are. I’ll do better than tell ya… I’ll show ya.”

You reluctantly closed your eyes, squeezing them tight. There was no use in arguing with him; you were just going to give in anyway. He had that talent to him; there was no such thing as rejecting Michael. He was so alluring that you had the damnedest time saying “NO”.

Once Michael saw that your eyes were closed securely, he crept closer to you, gently pushing you down on the bed. His fingertips brushed against your chest, slowly pushing you down. Your body carefully rolled back onto the plush mattress, a few giggles escaping from your lips as you felt Michael pushing you down.

You felt his large hands gripping onto your wrists, pulling you up closer to the grand headboard he had custom-made. Michael’s hands were soon replaced with the cool steel of handcuffs, his hands clasped onto your wrists, making sure the cuffs were on good and tight. Your eyes instantly flew open upon feelin’ that cold metal wrapped around your flesh. “Mi-…Michael! I know you didn’t-…”

Your mouth flew open, knowing it was a wrap. This was Michael’s fantasy. Him having his way with you, not the other way around as it had been for the past twenty years.

“I did… C’mon, you won’t regret it. I’ll make it feel so good f’ you. Just relax, okay?”

“Okay, Michael, fine. What’s our safe word this time, huh?”

“Let’s make it… PYT. You got that?” You gave your husband a silent confirmation, nodding lightly at his safe word he had set for you both. You finally looked above your head, seeing your hands clasped together. You were completely vulnerable; not only that, but nervous. You hadn’t been in a position like this since trying for your first child on your honeymoon. Over twenty years ago. Right now, Michael was lovin’ every bit of it; seeing you practically under his mercy, it was a breath of fresh air. Something new and unfamiliar. He wanted to get as familiar as possible.

“You look perfect, y’know? Just like that… so maturely beautiful. It’s makin’ me real excited.”

“Mm-… stop it, Michael.” You could tell Michael still had something hidden behind him, resting on the nightstand. His body stayed in front of the nightstand, doing a horrible job of concealing the large family-size bottle of low-fat Cool Whip that you were able to catch in the corner of your eye. Your eyes flickered over to Michael as he reached for the remote that rested on the nightstand, rewinding the video once again of In The Closet. You playfully rolled your eyes as Michael came close to you, nervously chuckling as he invaded your space. His fingertips fiddled over the hem of your muu-muu, gently pulling it up over your thighs. The cool air started to hit the warm meeting of your thighs; a slight hiss escaped your lips as you raised your legs upon feeling the air.

“Now, just watch us on the TV. And relax. Don’t we look s’ good together?”

“I-… at least I know I do.” You teased. Michael laughed and threw his head back, playfully nudging at your shoulder.

Michael’s hand sauntered itself up your body. Allowing his elegant fingertips to trace against the fabric of your nightgown, getting the excuse to feel over your mature curves. Your beautiful, evolved, and curvy matured body Michael so desperately wanted to lay eyes on. His hand found its way up to your face; his warm palm rested under your jaw, holding it so you would look closely at the video. Michael crouched down beside the bed, whispering against the side of your neck.

“You got me in so much trouble behind the scenes that day. You remember? Gave me such a hard-on on the set. Had to re-shoot three times… Gosh, I was so embarrassed. You were so bad.” His voice deepened, vibrating against your skin. His warm breath made you twist your neck in his direction, feeling that familiar tingling sensation between your legs.

You two, dancing so close, a deep and breathy chuckle escaped Michael’s lips as he reminisced. He turned his head towards the TV, watching the video, focusin’ on your grinding, those hips of yours bucking into Michael’s. You remember that day like it was yesterday… him meeting you after the filming, cornering you and not letting you leave until he got a kiss on the cheek from you. He was so shy. It was adorable.

You chuckled at Michael’s honesty as you stared at the tv, thinking about those sexy, although tense days on the set. How sexually frustrated you both were. How bad you needed each other. “I remember… I-uh… went back to my room…thought about how close we were dancing. Feelin’ you through those slacks you were wearin’… I touched myself to you that whole night… came three times. All to you, Michael.” You admitted, muttering out of the side of your mouth. Michael released another deep and breathy chuckle as he stared at the TV, mouthing his lyrics as he listened to you recalling your own side of the story.

“Oh yeah? You did, huh? I’ll bet all those memories of you climaxin’ to me are coming right back to you, aren’t they?”

“I hate to admit it, but… mhm. gettin’ real turned on watchin this. They don’t make videos like this anymore…”

Michael let go of your jaw, seeing as you didn’t need help anymore to stare at the video; you seemed to not get enough of watching. You didn’t dare look away, not wanting to miss anything. While you were distracted, Michael’s fingers pulled the hem of your nightgown back up, allowing the hem to rest against your stomach. Michael stared at your thick and warm thighs; your golden brown skin shone in his big brown Bambi eyes. His fingertips traced around the outline of your slit, resting in your black lace panties.

“She wants to give it, yeah…. she wants to give it…” Michael playfully sang along with the video to you, keeping his middle and index finger focused on your crotch, teasingly caressing your puffy pussy. “Spread your legs a bit more… more… more… that’s good, mama. That’s good..” He coached to you, watching you move your thighs a bit wider outward.

His hands started to trail towards the side of your panties; his fingertips pulled them to the side, looking down at the sticky mess. The material of your panties stuck to the wetness of your pussy lips, and Michael took notice. He giggled and peeked down at the mess in between your legs. The aching between your legs grew harder and harder to ignore. This caused you to yank at the handcuffs, desperately needing to take care of your sexual frustration.

“D-Damn it, Michael… It’s not funny..”

“Aw, you’re so wet. Look atchu… Who’s laughin’ now? Hm? Not so funny anymore, is it?” He giggled as he let go of the side of your panties, allowing you to just seethe in your sexual frustration. Your clit started to ache, feeling your heartbeat in between your legs. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you turned away from the TV, squeezing your legs tightly together, trying to remove the pressure from your frustration.

“Ah-Ah! Keep watchin’ the video. Don’t stop. Or I really won’t take care of you. You hear?”

“Yes, Michael. I’m watchin’… promise..” Your eyes fluttered back over to the TV; your husband followed your eyes closely, making sure you were focusing. “See? I’m watchin’..” He nodded at you and stood up straight once again, sauntering back towards the nightstand, slowly pulling the Cool Whip off of the flat surface.

“You know why I’m makin’ you watch our video? You know what today is, mama?”

“I really haven’t the slightest idea, Michael… what is it?” His lips curled into a smirk; his eyes paid close attention to your own eyes staring deeply at the In The Closet video. He wanted to make sure you were keepin’ your promise. “You get one guess… get the guess wrong… I’ll give you a little pop on your cookie… you understand?” You nervously chuckled once again; Michael popped you a little on your thigh, feeling them tense up close again.

“I-Is it… did I forget one of your brother’s birthdays? Oh shit, It’s Marlon’s birthday, isn’t it?”

“mm-mm.” Michael hummed, his voice vibrating at the back of his throat. Unexpectedly, you were served a swift pop on your puffy cookie; Michael’s firm hand gave you a gentle strike, leaning in and gifting you a slow kiss on your forehead. Soothing the pain of the pop, allowing the kiss to linger. “Wrong… It’s the anniversary of our video, silly… exactly twenty years ago today, we premiered it…”

“Ah-… God… dammit, I’m sorry, Mike. Please just-… take it easy…” You hissed. Although, that pop excited you. Just a bit.

“Should I…? Keep your eyes on the TV, please?” Michael snapped his fingers, making you stare back at the TV, the part in the video where you were constantly stroking your body, gyrating, all while Michael danced beside you, singing his heart out in the song. When you turned your attention back to the TV once more, Michael slowly pulled your tight, sticky panties off of your body, for a brief moment getting stuck at your juicy thighs.

He had to push your legs closed to get them completely off. Once your panties were gone, thrown across the room, he adjusted himself, slinking down onto the bed, lying in between your legs. He was finally met with your pretty pussy, in the flesh. His cheeks grew a bit flushed upon feeling the warmth from her hitting his face. You were incredibly needy, getting used to this domineering version of Michael. He leaned into your thighs, planting fluttering kisses against your sensitive flesh. His eyes closed as his large hands found themselves gripping on your thighs, holding them tightly. All so he could get that easy access to please you.

“Come on, Michael… We too grown for these teasin’ games.. Just-… Just taste it…”

“Never too old for foreplay. It builds tension… You should know that better than anyone… all that tension is how we got five kids, isn’t it?” You gave Michael a nod and smile, keeping your eyes on the TV as you promised, feeling those warm kisses your husband was planting. The kisses started to move closer, further to your crotch. His kisses finally made their way to your dripping cunt. A relieved sigh escaped from the depths of your soul. You needed this. Badly. His kisses grew deeper, planting open-mouth kisses against your clit. He could feel your clit twitching against his lip as he kissed it.

“Mm… after all these years… she still behaves so good.” After the third kiss, you could feel the tip of his tongue teasing the head of your clit, circling your love button. He pushed his face deeper against your slit, inhaling your sexy pheromones that turned him on so much. Suddenly, he pulled away from your pussy, grabbing the cold Cool Whip from the side of the bed, shaking it up. Michael swiftly opened up the top, spurting some of the whipped cream over your clit, watching his dessert, salivating.

He was so ready to taste you, even now with this whipped cream on you. You would whine, feeling that cold cream hit your pussy. He opened his mouth, flicking his thick tongue over your aching button, wiping that sugary dessert off your private parts. His lips clung to your clit, sucking in your pink flesh, keeping those large warm hands on either side of your thigh, caressing them slowly.

You would spread your legs out of instinct, still not looking away from your music video of you and Michael. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair so bad, coach him, and show him how good he was doing. But it was no use. You yanked at the handcuffs; they didn’t budge not one bit. You groaned in frustration at not being able to touch him, but he was doing so damn good. His tongue circled your throbbing love button again while it was still sucked in between his lips.

“Ah-.. Mi-… Damn, Michael…” You sucked air in between your teeth before hearing your clit pop out of Michael’s mouth. His tongue trailed itself down to your slit, lapping up any sweet wetness you were still producing as he ate you. He started to hum along with the music, adding vibrations to you being eaten, sending those vibrations up your spine. “Mm-hmm…” His tongue flattened itself, making sure to collect all of your delicious nectar. His thick tongue started to thrust itself in…. then out… in…out of your pussy.

He was able to really taste you better that way. The large bulge that was sitting in his pajama pants was crazy. He couldn’t help but push his hand down between his legs, occasionally stroking at his length. He emitted a low groan, feeling pre-cum leaking out of his tip from the friction he dealt to himself. He couldn’t focus on himself right now, though, only you.

“I wish you could feel me right now… Your cookie tastes so good….I could do this all day… roll those hips on my tongue… use me.” You didn’t need to be told twice; those hips started to roll, quickly. His tongue stuck open wide, extending his head up and down over your slit, moving his tongue deeper inside your pussy lips. His index and middle fingers found themselves rubbing steadily over your clit, keeping a steady pace. He kept his tongue flattened, widening it to fill you more. He let out deep groans, his warm breath warming up your entire body. Michael’s free hand was stroking himself as he pleased you, thrusting and rolling his hips unapologetically into his hand. No longer shy to show how primal you made him feel.

You tugged at the handcuffs, wanting so much more than to just pinch and roll your nipples in between your fingers, but you were quickly snapped out of that reality once again. You didn’t want to use the safe word, though. Not wanting this to end. His thick fingers focused on your pretty clitoris, making you arch your back, rest your feet down on the bed, and bend your legs. Michael moved his fingers from your clit, finally pulling away from your dripping hole, spitting your own wetness back onto her.

His index and middle finger slowly traced over your slit, seeing how your body was reacting. “Mm-… take ‘em… show me how bad you wanted this-… Still look so pretty takin’ it…” Michael uttered under his breath as he grabbed the Cool Whip that rested beside you, pushing his forefinger deep inside your pussy, thrusting it deep. Allowing you to feel that familiar pressure you’ve been hungry for. His free hand spurted whipped cream over your breasts, covering your nipples in the cold, weightless, non-fat cream.

He gradually lapped up the white cream; every once in a while, you could feel the tip of his warm tongue hitting the very tip of your protruding nipples, showcasing just how turned on you were. All while those fingers of his were pumping in and out. That lewd sticky sound filled the room. You couldn’t even watch the video at this point, getting cross-eyed from how good this felt. “S’ fuckin’… G-…”

“Oh… I thought we were old now? We too old to use our words?” Michael teased, keeping a steady thrust of his finger. He started to come up close to you, kneeling in between your legs. He sat on his knees, pushing his pants down, just below his heavy package. Michael slapped his thick, warm meat square against your pussy, peeking up at you from between his lashes.

“Just… the tip. Okay?” You gave Michael a silent confirmation, nodding as he insisted on just pushing that tip of his in and out. He angled himself to ease his thick tip in and out of your needy pussy. Each time he slid all the way out, a slight ‘pop’ from your wetness filled the room. “Missed this… Missed you…” He murmured, beginning to thrust just his tip more; he collected saliva in his mouth, puckering his lips, spitting out onto your cunt. His main three fingers went back to keeping a tight and focused circle around the area above your clit as he pushed his tip inside you, needing you to release.

“Come on…cum on me… make a mess… better yet, cum to our video, pretty baby. That pretty cookie feels so g-good…”

“H-Here… She’s…ah-…” You purred, yanking erratically at the handcuffs, losing control of your body at this point. Your back seized on you from tensing it for too long, and you gasped deeply at feeling another sensation. “Oh, Mama… I’m about to… to-… Ah-.. Ah-.. Charley H-Horse!” Michael threw his head back, giving you one last thrust before he pulled out of your addicting pussy, ejaculating all over the outside of your plump lips.

Your husband made sure to stroke every little bit of cum he had inside of him, pulling all of it out to the surface. He groaned deeply, chuckling in embarrassment of his old legs givin’ up on him. He still coated your pretty cookie with his own cream, painting you and spreading his sexy mess all over your slit. “Mama-… mmm… I love you s’ much… S-.. Sorry for crampin’ up on ya~..”

“I love you too… I really do… That was so good, Michael. You want me to massage it, baby love?”

“That sounds great… it’s still s-sore…” Michael hissed between his teeth, still trying to self soothe his leg. Feeling his muscles twist in knots.

Michael leaned up to plant a deep kiss against your lips, giggling against you, still embarrassed of his sudden cramping up. “we needed that… dealin’ with all them kids…”

“Hey! You wanted them kids, don’t deny it.”

You kissed Michael back desperately, smiling within the kiss. “Oh, god… I hate to admit this… but… I have a huge cramp right now…Um… PYT?” Michael couldn’t even breathe after his orgasm before you called out the safe word, yanking at those cuffs so that you could get out, quickly.

“Oh lord. Not you too. Hold on baby..” Michael chuckled loudly against your lips, pulling away from you slowly. He pushed his hands into his pockets, fishing for the key that he dropped inside. “Just one second.”

You might have bitten off more than you could chew in your older age. Cramps ran rampant when you and Michael got intimate; if it wasn’t Michael getting the cramp, it was you. Always a gamble. This time, it had to be both of you. Michael finally found the key and leaned up to your hands, unlocking those cuffs so that you could relax your arms and Michael could take care of the Charley horse you both had nagging at your bodies.

“Gah, this is so embarrassing… I hope we still got some Icy Hot in the closet…” You whispered to Michael, joking with him. Alluding to the song as well. He rolled his eyes at the flat joke you made, shaking his head.

“Maybe leave the jokes to Chris, baby.”

“You a hater in your old age, Y’know that?” You said to Michael, plopping your head down on the bed, decompressing from your much-needed orgasm as Michael stood up from the bed, his pajama pants hanging off his hips. He limped across the side of the room, groaning from his thigh lockin’ up. He finally got to where you both kept it. Michael dug around in the desk drawer, searchin for the big tube of Icy Hot. He swiftly pulled it from the drawer, presenting it to you.

“Today’s our lucky day! Just enough for both of us!”

“Thank the lordt!”

Michael rolled his eyes at your statement and shook his head; you only made it worse. He was now even more irritated when you mentioned his blood pressure. He didn’t like being reminded that he wasn’t a machine. Or that he even had that problem in general. His big hands rested square on his hips, sassily staring down at you painting your toes so calmly.

“No. Baby, that’s not it. Don’t you remember that tape I had of Prince trying to one-up me in front of Mr. brown?”

“Yes, Michael.” You say almost robotic, ready for him to bring it up once again. For a week, that was all he ever talked about with you. How much of a fool Prince made of himself.

“And remember that part when he knocked that pole down?” Michael covered his mouth, stifling an adorable laugh of his own. His shoulders rose and fell from how hard he was cracking himself up at the pleasant memory he lived through.

“Yes, Michael. You told me all about that mess when you got home that night. Don’t you remember?”

Michael started to pick up on your tone, you sounding a little irritated that he was bringing this up again. Michael cleared his throat and started to walk around the bed, grabbing your free hand to come stand up.

“Ahem…come with me. C’mere. Look at what this boy done showed me now.”

“Which one this time? Junior?” You began to slowly rise to your feet, spreading your toes so as not to smudge them against the expensive bedsheets you had custom-made for your bedroom. You were on this beige and brown Tuscan kick, and were really strict about keeping this aesthetic.

“Who do you think? That boy is somethin’ else…” Michael muttered as he kissed his teeth. A slight “tsk” sound could be heard slipping through his teeth. His eyes darted over your thighs, seeing your moo-moo rising up as you slipped out of bed. He helped you rise to your feet, guiding you to the entertainment room where the family computer monitor was. His hand never let go of your own, still, after all these years, he immensely enjoyed the times he gets to casually touch you. You kept your toes flexed upward, making sure your nail polish didn't scrap against the hardwood floors.

You were finally met with Junior. He was slouching in the computer chair holding his sides. Your son was laughing at some shaky video with horrible quality, and that familiar humming sound from a VHS could be heard on the recording. You walked into the room, hearing Michael’s young voice on the microphone in the video, singing after James brown called him onto the stage.

Michael led you to stand right behind the computer chair Junior was sitting in. When Junior felt your presence, his head whipped around, his eyes meeting yours from over his shoulder.

“Oh God, Ma! Look at this video I found of Dad and Prince! This is so cringey…”

“I’m tellin’ you, you didn’t find it! Somebody stole my tape! I can’t find the damn thing anywhere…” Michael turns his head to Junior, crossing his arms. A huff in frustration escaped Michael’s lips, and his right hand found itself on the back of Junior’s chair, resting it there to take a little weight off his foot that was bothering him.

“Dad, I already told you. Nobody stole your tape. It should be in that dusty old box with all your other stuff from the nineteen hundreds…” Junior said in his usual smart ass tone. Making it seem as though you two were dinosaurs from your time.

“Hey. Junior, watch it.” You snapped your fingers at him, and he whipped his head back towards the screen.

“Okay… So Ma. Look at this part… when Prince gets on the stage…”

He says as he covers his mouth, seemingly getting secondhand embarrassment of Prince’s jarring performance. Junior starts to skip forward through the video when Michael gets off the stage after James Brown called Prince up.

“Wait-Wait. Junior, how did you get your dad’s tape? Where did you find this here recording? I told you not to go through your father’s stuff again.

Your hands rested on your hips, peeking down at Junior through your waterline as you stood over him. Giving your son that motherly death glare. He had to have taken Michael’s tape. How else could he possibly be watching this on the computer?

“Mom, I didn’t go through Dad’s stuff…at least not this time. All I did was open YouTube. It was on the homepage.”

“What’s a “YouTube?” You musta just made that up.”

“But, ma. I didn’t, I swear.”

“You better start makin’ sense, boy. How. Did. You. Get. This. Video?” You spoke firmly to Junior, still not convinced that he didn’t steal from your husband again.

“No, baby. He ‘splained it to me. He said somebody “boasted” it? Isn’t that what you said, Junior?”

Michael adorably said the incorrect word, causin’ Junior to chuckle and playfully pat Michael’s hand. His own way of saying “Bless your heart.”

“Post”, Dad. But yeah. So somebody had this tape or whatever you guys called it and just uploaded it onto the internet. So everybody with YouTube can watch it.” Junior finally explained to you, but the wires in your brain still couldn’t put 2 and 2 together. Although it had to be true, Junior didn’t seem to be lying. He was calm and could look you in the eye. Definitely not lying…this time.

“So, Junior. Can you delete it for me? I really didn’t want anyone else to get a hold of this. This was supposed to be just for me and a select group of friends.” Michael couldn’t grasp the concept of a YouTube video being undeleteable. Once it touched the internet, it was never truly “gone”. People could easily just re-upload it.

“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t post it. I bet if you DM’ed the poster, you could get them to maybe take it down. But people can just download the video and post it themselves.”

“what’s DM??? Junior, this is not makin’ no sense. Stop playin’, boy, and delete this video.” You groaned at this technical crap. It was beginning to be too much for you, causing you to rub your temple with your thumb and index finger, circling at the sides of your skull. Feeling a migraine coming on.

“Ma, I really can’t. What’s the big deal anyway? It’s a funny video that people need to see! They’re lovin’ it! I mean, look at these comments...”

Junior waved the mouse over towards the comment section, making the cursor appear on the screen. He clicked on the first one, enlarging it. Michael’s hand pushed itself into his pocket, pulling his reading glasses out. He slowly pushed them up onto the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, leaning in closer to the screen. Michael began to read, slowly. His eyes had trouble focusing on the small lettering.

“Michael know…. he wrong for…. tellin’ Prince to come up there. Prince ain’t know what to do with….himself. Hash-tag… HEE-HEE.”

As Michael read the comment, he began to snicker halfway through. His hand shot up to his mouth, covering that adorable smile. His eyes darted to another comment, getting excited to read another. He mouthed the next comment to himself, although it read:

“What’s a Prince to the King?”

You leaned up towards the monitor, feeling your eyes frantically scanning over the teeny tiny words that littered across the screen.

“Ooh, look at this one. It says… “Michael knew he ate that… “Ate?” How do they know I went out to dinner before I went to the event?”

“Oh, I skipped that comment. I don’t know what “Ate” means.” You admitted, still staring at all of the two thousand comments that people left on the video. Michael swatted Junior’s hand off the mouse, taking control of it. Michael’s fingers began to scroll down the screen, reading more of what the public had to say.

You twisted your head to Junior, ready for him to give an explanation of what this unfamiliar term meant and if it was more nonsense. What you were expecting it to be.

“Ma, Dad. “Ate” means that he bodied Prince. It means you did good. Like tore him up.” Junior laughed, shaking his head at your ignorance. He twisted the chair around, facing the two of you finally.

“Oh. Hell, I ain’t know. I’m gettin’ too old for this. Why didn’t they just say that? Makin’ things so damn difficult.” You uttered as you shook your head. You seemed already tired of this internet stuff, but Michael wanted to watch more. He was getting enveloped in YouTube, wanting to watch more viral videos.

“Junior, get out of the seat. Lemme sit. Now go read your book. You owe me my chapter. I let you have your hour of computer time. That was our deal, son.”

Michael snapped his fingers, signaling for Junior to stand up. Your son huffed sharply, standing from the computer chair. He sauntered off, hopping back up the stairs, going back to his room.

“Baby, did you take your medication today? You seem tense…”

You watched as your husband plopped himself down on the computer chair. You walked over to him, laying your palms around his shoulders, gently massaging them. A deep sigh escaped his lips.

“I took ‘em alright. Them big ass pills almost killed me… Just gimme an hour of internet time, Angel. I need to check somethin’. I’ll be in bed in a little bit.”

“You had better. You promised to gimme a massage. My feet been killin’ me. And you better not be readin’ them clogs!”

You shouted to Michael the incorrect name once again as you began to sashay back up the grand staircase. Your toes stayed pointed up towards the sky, making sure the polish properly dried as you walked throughout the hallway, back to your large bedroom.

“I won’t read… too many.” He uttered under his breath as you walked away. His lips released a cheeky snicker as he began clicking through the links.

“Michael! Come to bed now!”

You yelled down the stairs, which made Michael scatter. He clumsily clicked off the blogs, dropping the mouse. He nervously rose up from the computer chair, scratching the back of his head, knowing you probably heard him with those canine ears you possessed. After havin’ five kids, you started to develop super-hearing. Go ahead. Have five kids and see for yourself.

Your hands were submerged in warm, bubbly dishwater, cleansing off any stubborn dried-up spaghetti sauce that hadn’t soaked off in the hot water prior. You were humming some old Rihanna songs as you rinsed off the stuck-on marinara sauce, looking out in the grand backyard as you washed. Your hips swayed to your own humming as you admired the family dog grazing in the thick, dark green grass. As you were washing, you felt a familiar presence enter the kitchen behind you. You didn’t even have to turn around after sensing those careful, elegant footsteps effortlessly gliding across the kitchen floor. You slowed scrubbing at the porcelain plates when you felt the soothing touch of that familiar figure. His hands found your round hips, gripping onto them lightly. His groin found your bottom, pressing up against you, just so you could feel the curved mound resting in his jeans. His neck craned into the crook of your own neck, planting gentle kisses against your skin as you kept scrubbing. The silence in the kitchen was cut short as the sound of his pecks interrupted it.

“Baby?” Michael cooed, peeking up at you as he swayed his hips with your own, breathing deeply into your neck. He filled his nose with your sweet vanilla scent as he caressed your lovely hips.

“Yeah, Michael?” You swiveled your neck, tilting your head to the side, just enough to see him in the corner of your eye. You kept a steady pace of scrubbing at the stubborn sauce on another porcelain plate.

“Why are you washing those dishes, hm? This is what we got Deborah on the payroll for, remember? Give yourself a break..” He whispered against your skin, his lower lip brushing up against the nape of your neck.

“Deb’s upstairs vacuuming and she needs a break. I’m just taking care of these lil’ dishes. There ain’t that many left anyway..” You finally concluded the very last dish, laying it in the now full dish rack.

Michael noticed you had finally finished, and he planted fluttering kisses against your neck, moving up to your cheek before he pulled slowly away to speak. “The kids came by to watch some videos with us. Junior found some old tapes of mine I had stored in the studio from my heyday… Come watch with us.”

“Oh, Michael. But,I got all these chores to do…” You uttered hesitantly as you turned your entire head to face him, meeting him eye-to-eye.

“C’mon! Say you will. Please, Angel?” Michael gently yanked at your arm, pulling your hand out of the dishwater. You released a deep chuckle from the back of your throat, pulling out both of your hands from the warm water. Once you finally got both hands out, you dried them with the worn-out rag that was resting against the side of the kitchen sink. 

“Alright, Alright. I will! Lead the way, Mr. Jackson!” You giggled as you followed Michael through the expansive kitchen, shuffling your feet throughout the home. You and Michael skipped down the stairs into the home theatre; the scent of freshly popped popcorn filled the air. As you entered, all five of your children’s heads turned to face you, giving you a very loud applause. 

“If it isn’t the woman of the hour!” Michael Jr twisted his head around to face you, scooting to the next seat down so that you could sit right between him and Michael. “You caught us right in the middle of Dad’s newest stuff. We got done with all the “Bad” stuff.”

Your youngest daughter, Jasmine rose her head up from her reclined seat, getting ready to speak up in opposition to Michael Jr’s statement. “Nuh-uh! None of Dad’s videos were bad! I liked all of ‘em, Jr! Don’t call MY Daddy’s songs bad!”

“No-No… Jasmine, Dad’s album was called “Bad.” Your oldest daughter, Tiana, replied to Jasmine’s misunderstanding of Michael’s album. It was quite comical seeing how different the times were between then and now. You settled yourself down on the chair, allowing Michael to rest his arm around the back of your neck.

“Daddy? Why did you call it bad? I liked almost every song on there! It wasn’t bad at all!” Jasmine crossed her arms, demanding an explanation. Her being so puzzled at the concept of Michael’s album was so adorable. You could have sworn you’ve explained all of this to Jasmine… Or maybe it was Mari you told it to… You lost track of what you told whom. You and Michael couldn’t help having so many damn kids.

“Hey! What do you mean “ALMOST ALL”? Which one didn’t you like, ya applehead?” Michael chuckled deeply, tilting his head over to face Jasmine. He playfully shoved her shoulder with his large palm, and she emitted a loud, high-pitched cackle. 

“Dirty Diana! Whoever that lady is, she sounds sooo mean…” She playfully shoved Michael back; her weak strength didn’t even make him flinch. Michael chuckled at her imagination, tilting his head over to face you. 

“Sure was…” Michael whispered only to you, giving you the reminder of who the song was really about. You rolled your eyes at the woman his song was referring to, not even wanting to go there.

“But pop? Why did you call the album “Bad” Anyway? I thought it was tight.” Brandon, your youngest son, inquired, truly not knowing any slang that existed before cell phones. His whole life revolved around knowing all the latest trends, the newest fresh sneakers, and the hottest threads that hit the streets.

“Bruh, back in them olden days, bad meant good. Like how wicked means cool now.” Mari, your middle child, responded. He reached forward to Michael Jr’s popcorn bucket, scooping out a handful to hold in his own palm.

“Olden days? Really? It was only twenty-some years ago…” You retorted to Mari after his slick comment about the “olden days.”

Michael Jr stood up, jogging up towards the complicated set-up of the CD player and tape player. “Shh! Alright y’all, I’m puttin’ in another one!” Michael Jr swiftly popped another tape into the deck before he ran backwards into his seat, plopping right back down. It was the “You Rock My World” music video, starting off with Chris Tucker and Michael entering the building. Michael and Chris had a rapport about a woman they mutually thought was very attractive, and the kids rolled their eyes at the woman in the video. Not believing it was you.

“Daddy? Who is that lady you’re droolin’ over ? I know that’s not mama…” Jasmine raised her voice above the music while everyone else watched closely at the chemistry between the video vixen and their own father.

“Actually, Applehead. That is your mama. Years before you were born. Tiana and Junior were barely outta diapers. Isn’t that right, Honey?”

“Mhm. That’s right. Tiana was two… and Junior was…. four.” You placed your index finger on your chin, tapping at it so that you could concentrate and think a little harder on the ages of your kids from when the video came out. 

Michael couldn’t help but lipsync his song, tapping his fingers against the leather material of the home theatre seats. His neck started to swivele and bob at the rhythm of the song. He seemed to be reliving the music video all over again in his head. You loved seeing him like this, like the music revitalized him. He couldn’t sit still now. When it got to the part of him giving you a gentle tap on the ass, he covered his eyes in embarrassment. Mari noticed this instantly, and so did Brandon. Their mouths flew open, and a loud giggle escaped both of their mouths as they playfully patted their father on the back.

“I see you, Dad! That right there is the reason you got so many kids now!” Mari laughed and pointed up to the large screen, keeping his eye on Michael’s shy disposition. 

“Oh, Mari, cut it out. I forgot I did that in this video. Kids, close your eyes!” Michael laughed nervously and reached over to cover Jasmine’s eyes with his own large hand. She easily pulled his hand away from her eyes, not wanting to avert them from seeing the on-screen chemistry between you and Michael.

“I think it’s cute. Mom, you and Daddy look so in love. Like-.. Like you two wanted to have more of us behind the scenes. I bet you could have had sixteen kids if you tried.”

Michael cuts in, leaning his head towards his daughter. "Well, we were married. I couldn't wait to put a ring on that finger. Isn't that what Beyoncé says?" He smiles widely, trying to connect with his eldest daughter as best as he can.

“Tianaaaa…  Y’know, honey. You aren’t too far from the truth. A couple of years after you came… Mari followed not far behind..” You chuckled at your own words. You seemed to start reliving these good times all over again in your head as well. Reminiscing next to your husband, reaching for his hand. Michael’s fingers intertwined with your own, and he gradually raised your delicate hand up to press his lips against your knuckles. Giving you a kiss. You twisted your head over to face Michael, probing a question in his direction. “Michael, tell them what made you do that dance down them stairs. Y’know the part? When you meet me in that room with the one spotlight?” 

Michael tilted his head to the side, resting his head in his jaw. He slunk his head down in thought, trying to remember the story of that dance move, and his mouth released a hearty chortle when he started to gradually remember the story. “Oh boy, so kids, the story is that the director kept tellin’ me I was walkin’ down the stairs too fast. We had to keep redoin’ it over… and over… and over again. Until I just got fed up and danced my way down. If I couldn’t walk right, I know what thing I can do right, and that’s dance.”

All of the kids laughed in their own way. Jasmine giggled, Brandon released a coarse snicker, Mari guffawed roughly, Tiana chortled, and Michael Jr. howled at his father’s very low patience, doing the take in his own way. It ended up being way better the way he did it anyway. 

“Now, that’s my dad…” Junior tilted his head towards Michael, reaching his hand out over your lap to give him a crisp dap-up. When it got to the 6:13 mark of the video, where you and Michael danced in the dark, spotlighted, and empty room, the room grew silent. Apart from Michael’s light muttering, singin’ along to his song.

"Just beautiful. Takes my breath away every time. That dance is what let me know you were the one, y'know that?" Michael whispered to you, not wanting to interrupt everyone's time watching. His eyes stayed glued on your own. His hand, which was around your shoulder, gently started to caress your skin.

 Everyone paid attention to your lovely frame, the way you danced in those heels. It was unmistakable that you had a serious talent. “Whoa, ma. You really danced s’ good. Its like-… hypnotizin’. I bet Dad taught you everything he knew, huh?” Brandon asked, peeking down at you in the seats.

“Pfftt yeah right! I was on tour with your Auntie Janet. She found me first. Michael needed a… video vixen in his video, and your auntie told your dad about me. After that-… little Junior came along.” All of the kids flinched a bit, disgusted at your anecdote of Junior being born not too long after you met Michael. 

“Mama! UGH!” Jasmine gagged, covering hear hears upon hearing that come from your mouth.

"What? It's true! Rest was HIStory.” You chuckled to Tiana from over your shoulder, feeling her presence behind you. You grabbed onto Michael’s hand, holding the one that was wrapped around your shoulder. You planted a gentle kiss against his knuckles, and he turned his head towards yours, gazing deep into your eyes. Gettin’ lost in ‘em.

“Mm… Exactly. Kids, your mother was… and is already very talented. She didn’t need me. I’m just… lucky she finally decided she did. And then to bless me with all of you...” Michael noted, loud enough for all the kids to hear. He didn’t avert his eyes from your own, still speaking at you as the kids watched contentedly at the large screen.

“Mom, you said you were a “Video Vixen?” What’s that?” Jasmine probed curiously, tilting her head in confusion, waiting for an answer from you impatiently, needing to know exactly what the definition was. She was your most curious child. Always asking the most pressing question, whether it be uncomfortable or not. 

“Ya see, Jasmine. Video Vixens be them super fine honeys that show up in them tight bikinis and be dancin’ all up on the man. Man, I wish I had me a video vixen.” Mari replied, slouching back in his seat, closely watching you and Michael together in the video.

You rolled your eyes at Mari’s answer. Your head swiveled behind you, peeking over at him from over your shoulder.“Remind me to put that parental lock back on your Wi-Fi access…” You growled at Mari, still allowing the kids to enjoy the video. You sucked your teeth in frustration at Mari’s ridiculous answer. Junior leaned forward in his seat, snickering at Mari still having a parental lock. “Nice goin’ dummy.”

Tiana and Junior stared deeply at the two of you on screen, just gazing at the tension there was between you two. There was no surprise that you two were going to have so many children, given the talent you had between the two of you. Brandon started to speak up, peeking over towards Michael.

“Hey, Dad? You think you can find me a Video Vixen? I need you to find me a girl to look at me like Mom looks at you." Brandon and Mari snickered, both of them covering their mouth as they cracked themselves up.

“Yeah! Call up Auntie Janet! See if she got more backup dancers my age!” Brandon agreed, throwing his head back in laughter. Junior just rolled his eyes at their obnoxiousness.

“You both need to focus on those books. Stay in school. You’re too young for somethin’ like that right now. You’ll know when it’s time for you, I promise.” Michael spoke up, as wise as always. You turned your head to face Brandon as he kissed his teeth at Michael’s “lame” fatherly advice. 

“Amen! Hallelujah!” You agreed hysterically with your husband, giving him a gentle kiss against his cheek. Michael’s hand rested against your thigh, tapping it along with the beat of the music. 

Today, you were dreading this meeting with Michael after that explicit phone call you had the week before. The only time you called him for an extended period was for a very sleazy reason. Ever since that evening, you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror before heading over to his studio. You finally arrived, clutching the demos tight in your palm. You rang the doorbell outside his studio, your feet shuffling against his welcome mat. Your fingers fidgeted with the discs in your hand, thumbing over the cover art of you and your band. Michael finally answered the door, leaning up against the doorframe.

He seemed to be sulking before you arrived, listening to his new song, “Give In To Me,” over the speakers. He was wearing his favorite red-and-white letterman’s jacket with his own Initials on the chest and some acid-washed blue jeans. His hair was perfectly quoifed as always, curls moisturized and hydrated. He looked… perfect. You wore a skirt on purpose, to expose those thick legs that Michael admitted to enjoyin’ the sight of. His eyes traveled over your body, analyzing your new look. Gone away were the cardiagans, baggy jeans, and clothing that made your figure disappear. You also donned a tight purple cheetah print t-shirt with a deep cut at your cleavage. There was no question that the shirt hugged your shapely body perfectly. 

“Oh, hi. I wasn’t expectin’ you to show-…” Those Bambi eyes traced your curves, his heart accelerated upon laying his pupils on your thighs. He was so lost in your look that he stopped himself from speaking. His tongue was suddenly tied like shoelaces. “-…up”

You scanned his body language, watching his chest rise and fall from the sight of you embracing your figure. He reached his fingers down to the buttons on his letterman jacket, fidgeting with them. A self-soothing technique in order to calm himself down. You chuckled at his reaction, waving your hand in his face as an attempt to wake him up.

“You okay, Michael?” You snorted, covering your mouth. You were trying to stifle a laugh as you watched his mouth practically fly open. His eyes were finally done scaling your entire body, and he met your eyes once again.

“Y-Yes. I like your new look. Love it. You’re embracing your body. It’s a good look on you, y’know?” Michael gestured at you with his right hand, moving it up and down towards your body as he spoke, removing his hand from inside his deep pocket. 

“Yeah, well. Your designer gave me these clothes. She took your ideas into consideration and sent them my way. Ya like the skirt? They show my… um… thighs just like you like.” Your fingertips yanked at the hem of the skirt, enjoying how short and flouncy it was. As you tugged at the hem, it gave him a better look at your upper thigh.

"I-... I don't know what you're talkin' about.." Michael darted his eyes away from your frame, feeling his face warm with embarrassment.

"Michael... don't act like that... You know you remember that time-..."

“Mhm.” Michael cleared his throat, interrupting you from going any further in your sentence. His lips pinched together upon hearing your voice get slightly suggestive. Michael's throat closed up, needing to make sure it didn't go all low in pitch, indicating that he was nervous. He positioned his fist against his mouth, fluttering his eyes shut. He turned his head away from you, clenching that fist so hard you could see the veins popping out. He made sure to bite on his knuckle, holding back on any lewd comments he had prepared for you. His mind finally settled, and he found the right words to speak up, finally. “You look perfect. I just didn’t think you were gonna show.’”

“‘Course I was gonna show. You haven’t given up on me, so I’m not givin’ up on us.”

“Oh, now you’re not givin’ up on us, huh?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Michael?”

“Nothin’…” Michael shook his head at you, sucking his teeth as his frame stayed propped up against the door. His smirk at you never wavered as he finally stood up in the neutral position, stepping to the side so you could proceed inside the studio. Even though you two weren’t in the best place right now, he couldn’t help but grin at you. His arm extended towards the hallway, giving you the sign of “right this way.”

You cautiously walked inside, looking around at all of the records hanging up. The awards Michael had garnered over the years prompted you to stop and stare at them. He couldn’t help but smile at your enamored gaze, standing right up behind you. He attempted to reach out and hold your shoulder, but the need to touch you went away. That smile gradually disappeared upon remembering that night with you two on the phone. You disappearing off the phone from his whiney begs for you not leave.

That intimate phone call, the sound of your desperate whines for attention. Whimpers for passion most of all. He turned away from you and sauntered away from your general area. Michael sluggishly plopped his bottom down on his studio chair, resting his jaw against his palm. His other hand reached out towards you, beckoning you to come sit.

“C’mere. Let me listen to those demos you recorded so far.” He said to you lazily; his voice seemed strained from recording on his own time. You meandered into his space after being beckoned by him, plopping down in your signature spot as well. You handed one of your demos over, one of an unfinished title. 

It started off as a soft ballad; soft cymbals rippled, initiating the song. Your beautiful voice began to vocalize along with the overlaying beats. Michael rose up from resting his jaw against his palm, rising just a bit in order to really feel the music. He wanted to listen to your voice more closely, leaning into the vibrations of your harmonizing. Every once in a while, he would glance at you from the corner of his eye. Monitoring your face at certain parts of the song. That adorable smirk started to appear while listening to your painfully relatable lyrics. Specifically with your particular verse: 

“Where were you? When you said your love was true? I pray to god for the sake of us; there isn’t someone new.”

A very strong ballad containing topics of yearning and pining for a love that will never truly belong to you.  He would nod his head along with the lyrics, truly resonating with it. He closed his eyes, enjoying your angelic voice, simply losing himself in the music. Your eyes would take small glimpses at Michael leaning back into his chair, exhaling deeply at the very last note you sang.

As the song concluded, his eyes fluttered open. Once they opened, you both just stared at each other. Both of you gazed into each other’s eyes while the song faded into nothing; just the soft buzzing of the studio lights filled the room. He was speechless. He released a deep, breathless chuckle at how brilliant your song was. 

“Pure escapism… I’m very impressed. You really proved yourself. You’re-… I-… you sound beautiful on this track.” Michael remarked to you, not even trying to hide how starstruck he was. He was sitting completely still in his seat, just enjoying your company after hearing your voice. 

“Thanks, Michael. Learned from the best..” You retorted. You leaned over, playfully bumping your shoulder against his own, On your side, you weren’t able to sit still. You appeared to be very proud of your lyrics. Michael taught you well, and you exhibited your vulnerability perfectly in the song. He seemed to have finally gotten through to you.

“Oh boy… thank you. This gonna be a single? Or is it gonna be on the album?” Michael questioned, leaning onto his desk, getting closer to your general area where you sat.

“I think-… It’s gonna be a single. A song like this needs to stand alone. Make it one of a kind… if that makes sense.”

“It does-… I hate to break up this moment… but… I really need to talk to you about somethin’.” He muttered, his voice getting lazy once again. You could tell that after listening to the song, Michael’s mind went elsewhere. Your lyrics seemed to be very reminiscent of a significant moment in time. Specifically, a moment you had with Michael.

Especially hearing rumors of an emerging marriage, it gave you the steam to write about how you really felt about it. His voice grew deeper, shakier. He was trying to find the best words, but you made the poor baby incredibly nervous.

“Yeah? What is it?” Your voice seemed desperate and breathy. A critical need to know what he could possibly be wanting to talk about.

“That other night. On the phone? You-… You started moanin’. Asking me to keep talkin’ in your ear…it made me very aroused. Made me want you that night. You bein’ wrapped around me… real close…  now after hearin’ this song… *sigh*… I might have feelings for you. I might. You see-… I have a-…” Michael’s voice was unsure and shaky. His eyes never met yours, almost as if he was trying his damnedest not to catch your overly concentrated gaze on him. He didn’t want you to see his eyes.

“Michael, I’m real sorry. That night was truly-… I really do apologize. I just wanted y-…” You tried your best to start explaining yourself. Your voice was rushed and sounded desperate once again. You were desperate to get him to understand you. If anyone would, it would be him. 

You were suddenly interrupted by Michael forcefully tapping his pen down on the desk. His nerves were on the highest setting with having to break this news to you. The CDs clattered from the force of his strong hand tapping at the pencil. A faint red blush began to cover the surface of his cheeks.

“I have a fiancé.” He finally spoke up. It was the clearest thing he said this whole evening. His lip quivered with anxiety. His whole demeanor turned into something more apprehensive. 

“I-..Oh..” A faint ringing started to ping in your ears. Your eyes seemed dull, a clear indication that you were dissociating from reality at this point.

He said it so fast, you were still in the middle of explaining yourself. You couldn’t even wrap your head around what he said.  He could see the disappointment looming in your eyes, although you had to save face. Act like it didn’t bother you as much as it wrecked you inside. You started to come to while Michael was still explaining his situation.

“…Been engaged three months now. I think it’s best if… we just put a pause on this mentorin’ between us?” He seemed tentative, his voice still low. A clear indication that he was nervous. His eyes suddenly found yours again. Trying to map out your emotions at this point. 

“Oh.. I-…I guess… But-..” 

“I just can’t have you around. You’re too temptin’. You’re dangerous to me. This needs to be our last meetin’. Just for a while. I need to…figure out my emotions. My feelings for you.”

“But Michael, let’s just talk about thi-..”

“I’ll be there for your concert… and you’re more than welcome to come to mine. I’ll see to it that your whole band gets tickets, okay? Just talk to my team.” Michael kept cutting you off. He had to. If he didn’t get this all out in the open right now, it was never going to happen. He had truly grown fond of you; this alone was killing him. 

Your shoulders dropped, and you nodded lightly to him. Kissing your teeth in frustration, turning your head away, just thinking quietly. You felt ashamed for even initiating that phone call. You felt cretinous for even feeling this way about someone; putting your feelings out on the line never served you. This just proved it. You felt a certain heat surge through your body. A very familiar feeling of hot anger came over you. You still wanted to keep it together for him. 

“So, Michael. What’s her name?” You probed finally. The only time Michael hasn’t cut you off. It was a clear, simple question, but Michael found it hard to answer. Michael let out a very deep sigh, rubbing the area where his nose connected with his forehead. He kept tight circular motions as he massaged.

“Don’t do this.” He spoke to you while shaking his head. A deep and nervous chuckle was released from the back of his throat, covering his mouth with his large palm. 

“What, Michael? Do what? All I did was ask the girl’s name. So tell me.” You gave a light chuckle back, resting your jaw in your palm. Your elbow was resting back on the desk once again, waiting for him to answer.

“Fine. Fine. You’re right. Her name is Giselle. You happy?” He retorted. His voice trailed off when he asked if you were happy, looking down at his loafers. He started to kick at some random fabric thread that was discarded on the wood floors.

“No, not really. I’m more confused… You were wanting to get filthier in that phone call. You wanted me to describe what I was wearing… You wanted me. YOU wanted ME back. YOU did. I can’t believe this-…” You snapped, feeling your throat start to close. You felt your emotions getting the best of you. Michael was feeling that, kind of enjoyin’ it. Seeing you so passionate about something…about him. Made him want to only rile you up more.

“That was my mistake…before that night, you hated my guts. Always pitched a fit at me.” Michael spoke to you calmly. He didn’t lose his cool; he couldn’t. If he did, it would not serve him in this argument.

“I did not hate you, Michael.” You shot back while crossing your arms. Your head tilted, an inquisitive indicator that you wanted proof of this serious accusation. 

“So then what do you call it? You only showed up ‘cause your manager made you. Never liked any of my ideas. You only called me ‘til you wanted somethin’ from me…somethin’ dirty.” 

“O-Okay. Maybe I did. But it wasn’t personal. I was just jealous of you, Michael. And I apologized over and over. And I’ll say it again. It was wrong of me to do that… I’m very sor-..”

“Wait-.. Wait. Jealous? What do you mean jealous? Jealous of what?” Michael probed back at you. He moved his body closer, pulling his chair closer with his legs and core muscles in his abdomen, scooting up to face you. His hands were resting on his knees, those large brown eyes focused on your own. Your eyes were half shut, beginning to get exhausted from this conversation.

You stayed silent for what seemed like a century. You wanted him to just forget you ever said that. You couldn’t go any further than that. Be any more vulnerable than you already were. You see what that got you. Absolutely nothing. All you could hear in the room was your own heart beating loudly, pounding in your ears. At the same time, you could hear the sound of your stomach swirling as it twisted itself into knots. 

“Look. I apologized, I just-… I guess since we’ve spent a lot of time together-…” You trailed off towards the end. To you, it didn't even matter what you could possibly say next. You were wrong for that phone call, but it felt so right in that moment. It was hard to feel too bad about it. 

“You can stop apologizin’. I said I liked it. That’s the problem; I’m not supposed to. You should probably get outta here. I better see you and your band at my concert, okay?” Michael said softly, gently grabbing your hands after he remarked that he'd better see you. When he grasped them, your body stiffened. You didn’t want to seem too eager to finally feel his skin on yours.

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you. Giselle gonna be there?” You boldly questioned, pulling your hands away from his own. Your back rolled into the chair, leaning into the leather material. 

“You’re a piece o’ work, Y’know that?” Michael gave another sigh. Soon afterward, a breathless chuckle slipped from his mouth. His shoulders rose and fell from how hard he was chuckling. He covered his face and shook his head, not believing you even asked. He knew you were trying to start somethin’.

“What did I do now? I’m just asking a simple question. Tell me. She gon’ be there, huh? Yes or no?” You interrogated once again, giving him a playful nudge on his leg with the tip of your shoe. 

“She said she may fly down to see me. She’s been missin’ my shows so… this would be her first. If she shows.” 

“Mm-… I haven’t missed a show of yours since I’ve been bussin’ down tables back when I lived in Indiana at fifteen years old, just to afford your tickets. But-.. I hope to meet her.” You slowly stood up and snatched your bag from the floor, positioning the strap to lie smoothly upon your shoulder. Michael stood up along with you, ready to walk you out to the door, but he froze. His eyes never left yours. That last remark that you made caused him to kick himself after saying all those things about his fiancè he told you. Your tongue swiped across your lips, not taking your eyes off him. He noticed.

The smirk on his face only intensified as he stayed quiet, scanning your body. A curl was situated perfectly in the middle of his forehead, giving you the excuse to stare, just to admire. You wanted so much just to reach out and caress his face. Make him feel your cravings for him, surging all the way through your fingertips. You could feel your “heart” beating between your legs again, picking up on this tension between you two. He could feel it too.

His cock twitched in his jeans, making him reach down and yank at the material just to free up space. Michael tilted his head to the left, feeling his self-control slowly slipping from his body.  He started to become curious as to what you were planning in your pretty little head. You seemed to be schemin’ somethin’. 

“Giselle is a really lucky girl. I’ll see you at the show. Goodbye, Michael.” You mumbled to him, shaking your head at your own words. 

“Goodbye.” Michael responded. He didn’t know what to say to you that would give the indication that he desperately didn’t want you to leave. He knew that he couldn’t trust himself if you stayed. As much as he didn’t want you to. You had to. 

Michael gave an adorable wave at you as you began to sashay to the door; he followed closely behind you. His hands stayed wound tight behind his back, easing his eyes down your body, staring at how your ass sat in your skirt. He had to keep his hands fixed behind his back because if he didn’t, he couldn’t trust himself. Just to touch the small of your back. Once you made it to the door, you gave a gentle wave to him, twisting your back to face him for a brief moment.

You caught his eyes shifting back up to meet yours after having them focused on your behind. You just let it go, not saying anything more. You’ve said your piece, so you left his studio, going back to your car. Your driver started getting the car warmed up upon seeing you, helping you into your seat. Michael shut the door to the studio and placed his forehead against it, letting out a deep groan from his lips. Feeling worse than he did before. He began repeating a mantra to himself, trying to snap himself out of his lovestruck daze because of you.

“I have a fiancè… I have a fiancè… Her name is-… G-…” His temptation for you was beginning to be so unbearable that he couldn’t remember his fiancè’s name. Stammering incoherently, trying to remember the damn girl’s name. He gave up, realizing he felt silly. He twisted his back away from the door, meandering into the studio again. 

……………….

It was a month later. The day of Michael’s concert, and just like you told him, you would be here. You were here. You, as well as your band, were standing in the backstage area, where you could watch him on the TV they had set up to tape his performance for the history books in music. The concert was for his new “Bad” album, and you thought he was crazy for naming it a “bad” album. Although everything you once knew was now completely turned upside down. This could allude to many things, but one thing rang true in your mind. The stage was completely hazy with smoke filling the air.

The crowd was electric. You could swear the air was buzzing with static. Vapors from the large smoke machines allowed the smog to cascade down the stage, into the crowd that was still going absolutely apeshit. The audience was completely overcome with emotions, grabbing onto the gates that separated them from the stage. Attempting to completely destroy that separation in general from the talent. You couldn’t see Michael, but you could hear an electric guitar screeching so much from the amps that you felt your teeth practically vibrating in your mouth. The types of music made you uneasy, but from the audience’s outpouring of love to the sound, there was a point made. The point was that rock and roll was in, new and improved. And most importantly, here to stay. That’s the point Michael has been trying to make to you throughout all of your sessions.

When Michael finally made his appearance on stage, it was a different view of him. You were seeing him as a beast, hungry to please all his fans. When you were in the studio with him, it was just you and him, two people. Just regular people. Seeing him in this way, being such a magnet to his audience, made you not despise him anymore. Made you want him even more. His stage presence gripped you in an instant; you felt your heart skip a beat upon seein’ him in his silver get-up. His updated version of human nature caused you to cross your eyes in delight. It was that good. His moves were so articulate, so precise. He knew what he was doin’ movin’ those hips like that. Thrusting the air and puckerin’ those lips…

You couldn’t believe you had that man in front of you before. You had him right in your grasp, and you were kicking yourself seeing him up there on that stage. Even more so that you couldn’t have done anything about him being in your grasp. A financè…you still couldn’t believe it. Knowing he was makin’ some other woman happy, it made you sick. Although you enjoyed his performance all the same. His fingertips wrapped in tape fluttered in the air along with the music; his voice simply floated over the melody. His calculated dance moves made you lean in close to the TV as if you could touch him. Your band member started teasin’ you at how closely you were watching. Your guitarist, Jennifer, leaned in your ear and whispered to you.

“You look like such a fangirl right now. I thought he was gettin’ on your nerves…” Jen spoke, and a clear giggle was emerging from the back of her throat.

“Was… but now-… somethin’s different.” You spoke to her, almost in a whisper. Your voice seemed dazed, as if you were watching one of your dreams playing on TV. In a way, you were. You left it at that, not wanting to say anything more about your current feelings you had about Michael. You just wanted to be left alone, just to enjoy watching Michael become an entirely different entity on stage. You could tell he truly enjoyed his job, being an entertainer. His built-up sweat would fly off his curls every time he spun, hitting an audience member on the forehead. She would scream in delight from his perspiration, reaching up towards the stage, seemingly to collect more sweat. What other entertainer could do that? You couldn’t think of anyone else. 

……………………………………….

When his concert finally concluded after two hours, your band members stood from their seats. On the TV, you could see him skipping off the stage, the camera following him to the back. His manager met with him behind the curtain, handing him a large plush towel to wipe off the sweat and Jeri Curl product from his glistening forehead and neck. You could hear his entourage speaking to him loudly. Between all of those voices, you could hear Michael’s. His soft and gentle voice got closer… and closer. Until you could physically feel him on the other side of the door.

Once he walked in, he raised his arms at you all. A playful signal for you all to clap for him. Not like he needed to signal that to you all; as soon as he walked in, you all clapped for him loudly. Your drummer started hooting at Michael and his electrifying performance. You were giving a gentle golf clap, still sitting, while everyone else stood for him. Michael made eye contact with you, smirking as he watched you still sitting. He felt that there were still some hard feelings. 

“Thank you all. Thank you. And thank you for comin’. I made sure to really give my best for you guys. What did you guys think?”

Everyone started to speak up about what they thought of the performance. His energy from the stage seemed to just transfer into his audience. Especially your bandmates, they seemed incredibly hyper upon being in Michael’s space. He felt like he had heard enough from everyone else, but not nearly enough from you. Your opinion of him mattered the most in your band. He started to approach you, still wiping at the sweat and product from his forehead and neck. You just watched him. Desperately wanting that sweet sweat to drip on your body. He finally met with you, and you stood up to his level, wanting to be eye-to-eye. 

“So, what did you think of my show? You haven’t said nothin’. I hope you enjoyed it.” He playfully nudged his broad shoulder against yours. He didn’t move, didn’t want to, until you answered him. He knew you were in the crowd and wanted to give you a magnificent show.

“Yeah, Michael. It was… amazin’. I couldn’t stay still. And I love the new look with the fingertape…I see you ditched the glove, huh?” You asked, leaning in to touch his hand, holding it up. You examined the bright white tape, analyzing his callused palms. Inside, you were jittering, excited to touch him again.

“Yeah, thought it looked cooler… do you think it looks cooler?” He wondered. As he spoke, Michael’s fingers fluttered between your faces, showing off the white tape to you. His fingers looked so good with that tape. His fingers were long and slender, perfect for reaching in tight places.

“I like ‘em… I really do. Say, Michael, would you like to go get a bite? Me and the band were gonna go to Fatburger. I bet after that performance you’re stavin’.” You gave a slight grin, pulling on your cheetah-print fur coat, which you purchased from the shops while in London.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Giselle didn’t show up… we just have to make sure we get to the airport by 2 AM. I have another show in Germany.”

“Of course, c’mon.” You started to briskly walk in front of Michael; your band members were way ahead in front of you both. Skipping out the backstage, being met with blinding lights of the the paparazzi. The vultures making sure they pictured Michael closely.

Michael smiled at you, happy that there were no hard feelings but still curious about why you invited him to tag along. He looked behind him at his head of security, Bill Bray.

“Hey, Bill? Can you give me my coat, Bill? Please?” He asked, reaching his hand out to pull it from Bill’s grasp. He grabbed his coat from Bill and gave you a nod, slipping it over each arm. He shrugged his shoulders in order to allow the material to flow and sit smoothly on his frame. He started to walk with you and your band to the large van you all arrived in. Michael stayed especially close to you, reaching out to hold onto the sleeve of your jacket. 

………..

Thirty-odd minutes later, you all had finished eating your entrees. You and Michael were stargazing, lying in the empty trunk on your backs . You both were just staring at the stars through the sunroof. Your bandmates sat outside on the plastic benches under the umbrellas, drinking bootleggers and havin’ their own fun. You and Michael were in the middle of talkin’ about why he started wearin’ the tape on his fingers for his “Bad” era. Something so minuscule, so overlooked, yet you leaned in, acting interested in it anyway. To Michael, it wasn’t small. It served a bigger purpose than most people would realize. He took notice of your intrigue. Your pretty eyes never wavered from his own as you took longer sips of your Orange Creamsicle Milkshake, and Michael watched your lips as you drank.

“-…Most of all, the tape’s so that the people in the far back can see my hands… So they can see my movements. The glove was good for the time, but with the tape… See look. They can see both my hands.” Michael said as he fluttered his fingers at you, showcasing those long and slender fingers. Your eyes followed his movements closely, enjoying just how passionate he seemed to be with you. 

“I kinda think they’re cooler than the glove; I’m not gonna lie.” You said to him teasingly, just wanting to see his reaction to you saying such a thing.

“Wha!? C’mon. The glove was a classic! You sayin’ that like you thought the glove was corny.” He laughed loudly, reaching over. He closed the small gap, playfully slapping your shoulder.

“Mike-… I was just kiddin’. Keep your pants on, alright?” You let out a quiet chuckle and took another bite of your burger. Michael rolled his eyes at you and took a bite of some leftover fries he brought out of the restaurant. He enjoyed seeing you joking and in good spirits again. He liked seeing you like this; he had never seen it before. It was as if you were getting closer and becoming good friends. He wanted that more from you than anything, to get on your good side, finally. 

“Yeah, well. I take my craft seriously. Don’t joke like that.” Michael giggled heartily. His shoulders rose and fell from how hard he was giggling.

“Never. I love getting you riled up. So diddya end up giving Giselle a call?”

“No. She’s stuck in Milan. She told me that she most likely wasn’t gonna show, but it’s okay. I get that she’s…really busy. I just… can’t help but feel like there’s somethin’ more…” His voice trailed off, just resting his hand underneath his jaw. He started to feel the need to speak with you more openly about where his mind was at the moment.

“What do you mean, Michael?”

“She’s never been to any of my shows. All I think about when I’m up there on stage is, “How does she think I look? How does she think I’m doin’? But… I feel like she doesn’t think of me at all. I love her, but she’s never present. What do you think I should do?” Michael stared down at the little space in between you both; your hands were folded up against your chest. You didn’t peek at him, but you could feel him staring at you. Your eyes focused on the large white star on the northeast side. 

“Well-… I think… You should just express how you feel to her. Start off by saying you understand that she’s busy… but… she is a big part of your life now. She signed up for that. It is now up to her to maintain that space. In other words: Get in where you fit in. If she can’t handle being with you and listening to your concerns, she just isn’t the girl for you. I mean it. You-…As much as you put into yourself, your performances, your lifestyle… You give people so much. The least she could do is be there for you. You’re an incredible person, Mike. You deserve someone just as incredible.” You mumbled out the last part, feeling that you were getting too vulnerable again. Your face grew hotter; warmth grew across your cheeks. 

“You’re so right. That means a whole lot to me. Thank you.” 

You just silently shrugged as a way of saying, “no problem.” His eyes trailed up to the deep, black, and infinite sky, filled with dancing stars. He bit his lip, finally breaking the silence again, feeling his self-control completely slip from his body. Michael went silent for a little bit, as did you.

"So... You gonna tell me what you meant back there? In the studio? About you bein'... jealous of me?" Michael probed, raising an eyebrow. His eyes fluttered over to the corner of his eye, peeking at how you'd react to the sudden question.

Your eyes fluttered as well over to Michael's, seeing that he was already staring at you. His eyes were almost begging to be seen by yours. He wanted to be caught staring. Once he was caught, his chest rose and fell from his heavy breathing.

"I-... I don't remember sayin' that. Like at all..." You muttered coarsely. Your eyes found themselves shyly peeking up at the stars again. The roles now being reversed, your eyes not meeting Michael's just like his couldn't be seen by your own.

"C'mon! You did say it! About a month ago, I'm pretty sure."

"What's crazy is that you even remember that... I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday."

"Well, it stuck wit' me. I was just thinkin'.... Why would a pretty girl like you... Be jealous of a guy like me? If anythin', I'm jealous of you. Michael admitted, crossing his feet over one another. His boots squeaked from his movements.

"I know why I'm jealous of you, but why are you jealous of me?" You absent-mindedly admitted to Michael, twisting your head around to face him, noticing his eyes weren't facing you, but towards the moon.

"AHA! I knew I wasn't crazy! You did say you were jealous!" Michael chortled and closed his eyes tightly, catching you in a lie. He held his stomach, feeling his abs clench in pain from how hard he was giggling.

"Oh hush! Fine! I said it. I'm jealous of you because-... of your stage presence. The way you demand attention from everyone. You're so...magnetic. I just wish I was like that. Like you. I-... I hate you for it. Sometimes... I wish I were you. You rested your head down on the floor of the van, averting your eyes from his direction. Michael just stared down at you laying all the way down, feeling his heart warming up a bit more.

"Y'know... It didn't happen for me overnight. It took a lot of practice. A lot of prayin'... affirmations to myself. Sometimes I still don't feel confident about myself, my abilities. Michael admitted, leaning down to your level, resting his head next to yours. He was so close to you, you could smell his Jeri Curl product and the light saffron fragrance on his neck.

"I know-.. I think I just... Wanna always be around you. So you can rub off on me..."

Michael's eyebrow raised, and he took a soft breath, still peeking at you from the corner of his eye. He took in a deeper breath, nibbling on his lip in apprehension. He was trying so hard to control himself in this moment, but with you bein' so close... after being so vulnerable... he finally asked:

“You wanna know what I think?” Michael mumbled. He started tilting his head, beginning to lie on his side to get a better look at you. He propped up his arm, positioning his elbow down, resting his head in his hand. 

“I do. What's up?” You felt pensive upon asking. You kept your eyes focused on the twinkling lights, sometimes seeing a helicopter fly by. The energy kind of shifted in the van, though. You could tell there was something he desperately wanted to say to you, the longer he stayed quiet. Just starin’ at you. His eyes narrowed, not just focusing on your face. They trailed down your body, taking a glimpse at your black leather pants, hugging your hips tightly. He couldn’t focus on one aspect of your body. You were the complete package. His eyes finally met yours again and stayed there. Not truly noticing how beautiful the color of your eyes were. Once he realized, they never left them. You could feel there was some underlying tension there. You were just listening to his shaky breathing, monitoring his chest rising, then falling. You could tell he was attempting to get himself worked up to make a ballsy move. 

“I think-… I want to try that orange creamsicle milkshake you got back at Fatburger.. It looked so good.” Michael looked away from your eyes, feeling rather silly. He still felt a surge of adrenaline, unsure of what would lead to his set-up here. His eyes once again met yours, making sure you could see his hunger for your “Orange Creamsicle milkshake.”

“Oh-.. Yeah, it was good. I think I still have some left up in the center console if you wanna-…”

“No. I want to try it, right… Here… There's some left on your tongue, isn’t there?” Michael purred, leaning in closer, making your chest press up against his own. He felt your heart beating against him, showing how nervous you both were. A hot rush of electricity flowed through your body, and a vibrating feeling was coursing in the space between your legs. Michael reached out to you, wanting to touch your face, needing to feel your skin on his fingertips. He fluttered his fingers at you, beckoning you to get close. 

“Michael, you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean. I know what I want. I’ll deal with the consequences… Just want some of your Orange Creamsicle, that's all.” His thumb found your cheek, slowly trailed up to your lower lip, slipping itself in between your plump lips. You slowly parted your lips, allowing him to get the access he needed. The tip of his thumb felt your hot and wet tongue. He made sure to get his thumb completely soaked in your spit, wanting as much as he could get. He gradually drew back his thumb from between your lips, staring at how your mouth took his thumb so well. Once it was fully outside your mouth, he raised his thumb up to his lips, angling it to easily slip inside his own mouth. His eyes fluttered shut, and he moaned at the taste of your saliva, using his other hand to reach down and yank at his pants, feeling his cock ache from this gesture. He sucked his thumb dry, pulling it out with a soft pop. 

“Mm-… Orange is my favorite. You taste-…” Your eyes were fixed on Michael's lips, taking his thumb all the way in his own mouth. You were gasping for air; it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in this van. You hadn’t ever seen something so hot in all your life. That loud ringing started to ping in your ears again; you couldn’t hear anything Michael said to you. You were just trying to focus on your breathing. 

“-… It's just us here. Nobody has to know what we did. Nobody has to know how vulnerable you can get… As long as I know…” Michael leaned into your ear, whispering seducively in your ear. His lower lip was brushing against the shell of your ear, and his hand that was propped up began running through your curls, brushing them out of your face.

“So then kiss me. What’s stoppin’ you, huh?” You whispered to him, reaching your hand out to touch his cleft chin with your thumb, tilting his head.

“You what’s stoppin’ me. Show me that you want me. I’ve shown you. C’mon. You don’t still hate me, do’ya?” Michael chuckled breathlessly, fluttering his eyes shut. While they were closed, you used this to your advantage. You didn’t want him to see it coming. Your hand found his chest, just pressing your palm against the material of his fur coat. When your lips finally collided with his, he didn’t think it was possible for him to feel this much desire for a person. He felt as if he was baptised, being born again.

After feeling your soft lips on his own made him open his eyes, just to make sure this was truly happening. They quickly fluttered shut again, his large palm cupping your jawline, trying to close the little bit of space that was left. The kiss started with slow and gentle pecks at first. Just a trial run to see if either of you would stop or pull away. The sound of your lips together was intoxicating, so you couldn’t pull away. He couldn't bring himself to do it. There was still that faint taste of the Orange Creamsicle milkshake on your tongue that only enticed Michael to get deeper.  

“Mm..-..” Michael released a low groan, tilting your head with his own hand that was against your jaw, angling his lips to get deeper, making things more messy. His tongue swiped against your own, causing him to get rougher, more excited. This sent a jolt of energy through your spine, making a moan rumbled from the back of your throat. You kept your thumb against his chin, feeling a mix of your saliva start to drip down against his skin. Your thumb got slick as you wiped away the spit from his chin. Attempting to clean him up.

You could taste his breath, his tongue. The taste immediately put you under a spell. You parted your lips to suck on his pink muscle, bobbing your head from the tip of his tongue to the near base, teasingly. You could feel his large hands yanking at your leather tights, giving you the signal to climb up on top of him. You nodded in the kiss, giving him a silent approval. Your lips didn’t dare disconnect, not even for air. The only air you and Michael needed was each other. Your body found itself on top, straddling his thigh. At this point, the car was hellishly hot. Between the two of you, the moans and whines intensified. Your hand accidentally banged against the window, pressing your palm against it so you could lift yourself up. Your handprint could be easily seen from the outside of the fogged-up car.

Michael teasingly sucked your bottom lip in between his own, playfully nibbling at it. His hips firmly landed on your hips, just making you ride the belt buckle he had on his thigh. Unfortunately, he had to pull away, just watching you enjoying yourself. He positioned himself so that the friction of that thick metal buckle was situated right up against your cunt. You instinctively moved your hips back and forth, rolling your hips desperately. Your technique was sloppy, but you were so pent up, you couldn’t give a fuck.

“Mm-… You look so pretty. So vulnerable. All for me. Ain’t it? C’mon, let me hear you.”

“Mhm… Y-Yes…” 

“Yes, What?”

“Yes, Michael. It’s for you…” You purred proudly and nodded your head slowly, still moving your soaking wet pussy against his thigh; he could feel the warmth practically seeping through your clothing into his own. Your hand found itself against his thick, aching bulge, throbbing for some attention from you. Your own hand yanked at the hem of his leather pants, pulling them down. His hips thrusted up into your pussy, just trying to give you better access to pull those pants down. His thigh accidentally thrusted up against your pussy, making you gasp sharply in shock. That thrust caused the buckle to hit your aching love button perfectly.

“Ah-… Ah… God..”

“I’m s-sorry..” Michael muttered softly to you. His curls started to fall in front of his face. Every time he spoke, a curl would flutter against his mouth, blowing the strand of hair.

“D-Don’t apologize. Felt… real good.. you’re good at this..” you whispered with a slight giggle escaping you. In truth, you were pleasantly surprised he was so good at foreplay. He was aiming for all of your pleasure points, all while looking so good, effortlessly. Once his pants were pulled down just a bit, you could feel that he was still growing against your touch. You drew back your hand, pulling it up to your mouth. You spit out a dime-sized glob of your own delicious saliva into your palm. You hand finally found his blistering hot dick, making you stroke that spit into his incredibly hard shaft. A soft groan escaped his lips, causing him to buck his hips into your hand. 

His head was spinning on its top, and he couldn't get enough of you. His hand found the waistline of your tights, moving away from your hips. He angled his hands to slowly sink into your panties, searching for where your love button sat in your underwear. He finally found it, releasing a deep sigh from his lips, feeling your slickness. He kept slow and deliberate strokes against your clit, using the tips of his fingers to rub it. You released breathy moans from your throat, grinding against his big fingers, needing them inside. Your hand still stroked Michael skillfully. Keeping long and slow strokes, going up and down. From tip to very thick base. 

His fingers wandered all the way down to your willing hole, gently teasing and circling his fingertips around your opening. He started to slowly push his middle and ring finger deep inside your hungry pussy, sucking him in so well. Your moans gradually grew louder, less breathy. You wanted to make noise, seeing as Michael celebrated it.

“That's it. That's the idea… That feel good, baby? How good?” MIchael spoke to you, his voice still soft and clear. His elegant fingers kept a gentle rhythm, slowly pushing them in... out... in.... out...He knew how to work those fingers perfectly for a woman's pleasure.

“So fuckin’ good. So good. I’ve been wantin’ this… so bad..” You couldn't help but to sob out into the confined air of the van. You sounded so desperate, finally admitting this to him. You needed this, and he could tell. All that "hate" was all a front for what you truly wanted from him. The pressure of his fingers filled you up so good, you felt the need to lean down and grip onto the back of his head for leverage, rolling your hips against his long and slender fingers.

“Oh yeah? For as long as you been hatin’ me?” Michael teased; a hybrid of a moan and chuckle escaped his lips. He was overcome with lust; every word that escaped his lips was breathy, sensual. Even while he was teasing you, you felt the urge to just reach down and envelop him in your embrace. He wanted to coax you into getting rougher with him. Use him just for your own pleasure. Bring out that passion he knew you had. Use him as your muse.

“Can’t tell you that…” You whispered to him, seemingly out of breath. You were using all of your oxygen to moan, not so much to talk. You moaned and cursed under your breath, rolling your hips faster against his hand, feeling his thick fingers filling you more intensely. Michael bucked his hips twice, feeling his base flush against your palm. The windows got foggier as you were getting closer to your climax. Your mouth parted slowly as you felt yourself reaching your peak. 

“Oh god…. I’m…gonna…” Michael stammered as he thrusted a final time, spreading his legs. His toes curled while he felt his thick white cream oozing from his thick tip. His lips parted to groan out into the hot cabin of the van, puffing his chest in and out. While Michael rode out his orgasm, he stayed focused on his task: making you cum all over his fingers. His thick thumb pressed up against your clit while his fingers remained deep inside.

“Ohh-… fuck…” That whine from you was unmistakable; you were close. You arched your back forward, feeling your curls fly back out of your face. One last roll of your hips did it. You finally released all over Michael’s fingers, making him groan in satisfaction.  Feeling your delicious cream on him only excited him more. He would pick you up and fuck you right on the floor of this van if he could, and he was just about to, grabbing your hips to sit right on top of his cock. That was until his eyes wandered up at the clock on the car, reading 1:03 AM.  

“Oh lord… I gotta get to the airport… It’s gonna be 2 soon. Baby… We gotta stop. I’m sorry.” He absentmindedly stuck his fingers in his own mouth, sucking your sweet nectar from his finger, running his tongue all the way down his palm. He collected as much of the cream as he could, and you just watched, feeling your knees get weak again. Michael’s eyes were fixed on you as he licked you off his fingers, peeking at you through his eyelashes. You completely zoned out, staring deeply at his mouth. The webs of your wetness lingered between his lips, making him lick it off. You felt your throat get as dry as desert sand. You finally swallowed, moistening your vocal cords so you could speak.

“O-Okay. It’s okay… Maybe we’ll keep this goin’… One of these days.”

“I think I can make that happen.. What if… You just came with me to Germany, hm? You and your band? You all can just open up for my tour. We have so much unfinished business between us after all.” After he asked you, your eyes went wide. Michael started to shuffle up to the center console, reaching for the napkins you all took from the restaurant. He started wiping himself off, fingers and cock. He chuckled at how much cum he was covered in, not minding at all. Just happy to be used for your satisfaction.

“Oh, Michael, but your fiancè-…” You didn't try to rationalize this idea of his, reaching for a napkin from Michael. He graciously gave you several, giving you the chance to clean yourself off as well.

“I can’t think of her right now. I can’t. You’re so much more beautiful. Inside and out. I knew I saw something in you..” He whispered to you, finishing up. He balled up the napkins and leaned in closer to your lips, giving you a soft peck. The sound of your lips connecting was once again…intoxicating.

“I know you didn’t... Baby. You know you don’t need all this stuff.” He spoke to you gently, almost as if he were gentle parenting you. His voice was not tense, still maintaining his soft demeanor even while he was feeling rightfully agitated with your shopping habits.

“I’m sorry, Mikey… But you know when I get with my girls, we just can’t stop our flow. And baby, I promise most of these things were on sale. Imma smart shopper, you know that.” You reached out your hand that held Michael’s black Amex card, attempting to give it back. He shook his head at your statement and swiped that card back from you, swiftly pushing it into his back pocket.

“But, baby. That’s not the point. I better see you wear all of this. AND more than once, you hear?” His soft nature wavered a bit; a little crack in his voice was audible. He cleared his throat just a bit, noticing the veins protruding from the side. You gave Michael a nod and turned your head away in shame, just staring at all those bags. He started to make his way closer to you, pushing the bags aside with the tip of his loafer shoe. 

“Michael, I promise I can make it up to you… I did something crazy…” You whispered against Michael’s neck as he came in closer to you, craning your head up to rest it on his shoulder as he embraced you.

“You always doin’ somethin’ crazy. What’d you do this time?” He teased and chuckled heartily against your cheek, planting gentle, fluttering kisses against the side of your face. You laughed along with him, throwing your head back. It was hilarious because it was true. 

“Follow me upstairs and come find out, Michael.” A sultry whisper against his ear made the hairs on his neck stand on end. Feeling your juicy bottom lip brush against the shell of his ear caused him to bite his lip. You gently pulled away from his embrace, gradually letting go of his hand. He kept his grasp on yours until you practically had to pull him off. You swayed your hips up the stairs, allowing him to enjoy the show. Those thick hips rocking from side to side had him reminiscing already. He walked a few steps behind you, digging his hands in his pockets, still biting that lip of his.

“You know what you do to me. Movin’ them hips like that…” You chuckled and just kept on walking. He made sure to sneakily grab his cup full of ice. It was previously full of ice AND water, but that hot sauce he had with his chicken made him down the last little gulp he had prior. Your hand reached behind your back to hold onto his, and he did just that, using his free hand to grasp your own. The walk to your shared bedroom felt long and slow, just needing to be skin-to-skin with each other, quickly. Once you and Michael finally made it upstairs to the bedroom, you playfully pushed Michael down on your shared California King bed with his grand wooden headboard that he had custom-made for the room. Michael still had the ice-cold glass of ice gripped in his palm, almost dropping it from your force.

“Hey! Take it easy, sweetness. I’m not goin’ nowhere. I can promise you that. C’mere.”

“Ah, ah, ah. Not yet. I gotta get dressed for the occasion. Just gonna slip into somethin’ more comfortable, Michael. I’ll be back.”

“Take as much time as you need, Angel.” He said breathlessly as he watched you rock your hips all the way back into the large connecting bathroom. You were inside, slipping yourself into a brand new lace, see-through Victoria’s Secret neglegè. It was incredibly flattering on your body, showcasing that shapely figure that had Michael crumbling every time. You also rolled on some of the Arabian perfume oil that Michael had bought you while he was overseas. The smell of Saffron against your body heat was immaculate for him. It made him absolutely devour you. 

Once you exited the bathroom, Michael was lying on the bed with his popped collar. His leg was propped up, and his chest was on full display to you, exhibiting how quickly his breathing got when he laid eyes on you. His mouth opened in shock, already feeling that familiar throbbing between his legs. 

“Oh boy… You look absolutely-..”

“Michael, close your eyes for me, baby. I’m gonna get closer to you. Show you the surprise I’ve been tellin’ you about..” You cut him off, not wanting to see you up close just yet.

“O-Okay..” Michael would scoot up a bit closer so that he was sitting right on the edge of the bed. His eyes fluttered shut, and you ambled slowly to his space, the smell of your oils invading his nose.

“Mm-… You’re wearing that oil I got you. Come closer.. I wanna smell it on your skin, sweetness.” Michael muttered softly, shifting a bit in his spot. His feet couldn't stay still, tapping his loafer against the finished wood floors. Your hand connected with his own, intertwining your fingers with his long, elegant ones. Your hand sauntered down his wrists, making his hands palm your own breasts. 

“You feel anything different, Michael? Anything hard?” You probed. Michael’s hands instinctively started to squeeze your full breasts, his large thumb circling over your erect nipples.

“Mhm-… your nipples are really hard, baby. Or is it just chilly in here? Y’know you can tell me. I can just turn down the air conditioning.” Michael stated as he kept rolling that focused thumb across your protruding breasts. 

“I’m not wearing a bra…” You whispered to him, slowly straddling his lap. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel the weight of you, your warmth invading his chest. His hands never left your chest, still trying to figure it out. 

“You’re not? Hmph. Well, Baby, I’m outta ideas. Tell me what I’m feelin’. Michael pouted as his fingers started to pinch at your metal bars, licking his lips. You could feel his bulge getting hotter underneath your crotch, and his heart rate was accelerating. His hips absentmindedly start rolling against your bottom, needing your touch.

“Open your eyes, Michael.” 

Michael's eyes opened slowly, looking down at how your juicy breasts rested in your slip. His breath hitched as he admired the way the lace would lay against your flesh. You looked so feminine, so sexy. You radiated a certain energy that he couldn’t help but want to not only to tame, but to work alongside. Be your guide in reaching your deepest desires.

He couldn’t help but to notice those little silver bars embedded in your skin. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, seeing them peek out from the lace fabric. He gently started to hike up your slip, wrapping his fingers around the hem. 

“Can I-.. Can I see?” He peeked up at you from underneath his eyelashes, asking you bashfully if he could pull your slip up to see your pretty, suckable titties. Any excuse to see your breasts was an excellent one. He was already getting excited, sliding those hands of his up your sides. His warm palms started teasing at the hem of your slip, waiting for your consent. As he was waiting, he shifted his hips a bit in his seat, feeling an emerging hard-on growing between his legs. He couldn’t sit still. Not until he got the chance to see your new breasts.

“That depends. You still mad at me?” You teasingly asked, leaning in closer to his body. Your hands found themselves trailing over his chest, feeling his deep breathing against your palms. Your hand pressed forward to caress his bare chest, feeling the thin hairs rising from your own delicate touch. 

“N-No!” Michael exclaimed, sounding a little too eager by accident to respond to your question. Just tryin’ to get on your good side at this point. “No, I mean-…I can’t stay mad at you, baby. Y’know that. Now, can I please see ‘em?” 

You gave Michael a gentle nod, a silent sign of consent, allowing him to slowly hike your slip up. Just enough so that he could see your full breasts on display. He never got tired of them. ever. Once your lace slip was no longer hiding those breasts, his eyes went wide, seeing the silver bar penetrating through your suckable nipples. He absentmindedly licked his lips and pouted his lips, already leaning in to suck them. Instead, he stopped himself and reached his index finger out to feel over the cool silver metal.

“Mm… wh-… What are these? What do you call these?” Michael curiously quizzed you, removing his hands from your breasts. He didn’t want to hurt you, so he just stared. His head tilted cautiously. Something about them, though, seein’ them on you. It turned him on a tad bit more.

“They’re nipple piercings. It's just a little metal bar they poked into my skin, making my nipples look more pronounced. You like ‘em, baby?” You playfully shook your chest at him, making his pupils follow every bounce and shake you dealt to him.

“I-… I think so… Not if they hurt you though… D-Did they hurt you, gettin’ ‘em done?” He asked seriously, wanting to know if you were in any kinda pain while going through this… sexy transformation.

“Well-… you know me, baby. I like a little pain every now and then. It didn’t hurt too bad.” You remarked to him softly, giving Michael a seductive grin. 

“They are very sexy on you. I wasn’t expectin’ to like ‘em as much as I do. They make me really… um… riled up. I’m so lucky…” Michael muttered softly to you, his eyes left your chest rarely, if only to stare in your pretty eyes. Your head craned down to his neck, leaning in to give him gentle kisses against his skin. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feeling of those soft and juicy lips flat against his skin. You gently extended your tongue past your lips, lapping at his flesh with the tip of it. Michael’s lips released an intimate gasp at your sudden display of affection. As you leaned in, though, he could smell the strong scent of alcohol heavily dancing on your breath.

“Mm-… and how much have you had to drink, baby? I can smell the liquor on your breath,” Michael questioned, leaning in closer to your kisses, not wanting to be ripped away from you. He always made sure to add a bit of sass with his way of interrogating you. His hands palmed the bottoms of your juicy chest, causing another groan to be released from his lips.

“I only had three, Michael. I promise.” You whispered against his neck. Your lower lip dragged against his earlobe, making goosebumps gradually grow against his flesh.

“You promise?” 

“I do. I swear, baby. But-… I need something from you.”

“Anything. I’ll get it done.” He whispered back to you, still caressing the lower part of your breasts. His hands would occasionally wander down your sides again, massaging them gently. Your lips parted, allowing a soft whine to escape them.

“My titties are a little sore, Michael. You wanna give me some help with them?” You slowly pulled away from Michael’s neck after laying fluttering kisses against his skin. He wanted to return the favor. His head slunk down into your neck, inhaling your scent he so wanted to suck in. His eyes rolled back upon taking in that Saffron that paired perfectly with your natural aroma. 

“I-.. I’d love to, baby. ‘Course I’ll help you… Can I suck on ‘em, mama? They’re callin’ my name...” His voice lowly rumbled against your neck, beginning to pull away from your skin. 

“Yes, Michael… P-Please..” You purred, whispered against him. You were so close; your lips brushed against his own. He beckoned to you with his index finger, a signal for you to get closer and trade places with him. Once you got closer, he yanked you down to his level, pulling you to lie on his spot on the bed. When you finally got comfortable, he got down to get on top of you, straddling his legs on either side of your frame. His knees rested on either side of your waist as he craned his head down to plant gentle kisses against your tender nipples. You hissed at the sensation, shutting your eyes swiftly. 

“I know, baby. It’s okay… I got you..”Michael hummed against your skin, feeling you start to get a bit of discomfort from his touch. He wanted to make it feel better, just like you asked. He reached out to the nightstand next to the bed, drawing the glass of ice up to his lips, sucking an ice cube between them. He allowed the ice cube to swish around his warm mouth, getting it chilled for you. Once he felt it was cold enough, he kept the ice cube in his mouth, slowly extending his tongue out. His thick pink muscle landed on your aching nipples, making you emit a deep whimper in relief. Your head nodded as an affirmation that you needed this, desperately. His lips wrapped themselves around your left nipple first, carefully swirling his tongue around the metal bar that was embedded in your skin. You could feel a moan escaping from between his lips, sending vibrations through your body. 

“Ah-… Mi-.. Michael…” A high-pitched whimper escaped the back of your throat. He gave you a slow nod upon hearing your voice. An indicator that he heard you, but he couldn’t speak right now. His mouth was too busy with helping that nagging pain you brought to his attention. He kept swishing that icy tongue along your erect buds, groaning at your taste. His tongue traced along your chest, going towards your right nipple, allowing the icy sensation to be felt all over at this point. His tongue kept moving in deliberate circles around the piercing bar, cooling your blistering hot nipple on the right. When Michael kept you distracted with the calculated movements of his tongue, he pushed at your tight panties trying to get them off your hips, having some trouble. 

“Lift those cute hips up for me… C’mon. Don’t keep me waitin’, princess.”

You did exactly as he told you, lifting your hips so that he could slide those panties off. He chuckled against your breasts, muttering softly against your skin.

“Good. Good girl. Jus’ relax.” His hand pushed itself between your legs, spreading your legs with ease, using his knee, wanting to feel over your wetness, see if you were ready for him. You had him waiting around for hours on you; he needed to prove to you how much he needed you here on time.

“You want me as much as I want you, Angel?” The ice cube in Michael’s mouth finally melted all the way down, but his mouth stayed cold all the same. His mouth stayed wrapped around your left nipple, drawing your bud deeply between his lips. When he probed that question to you, you moaned deeply into the air. Feeling your back arching forward, wanting to feel his entire mouth more deeply against you.

“Yes, Michael. ‘Course I do, baby..”

“Then get here on time next time… Don’t keep me waitin’… Missed ya.” He muttered against your skin. His hand carefully rubbed at your cunt, feeling you get stickier from his gestures. His fingertips were completely soaked with your cream while he caressed your throbbing clit. 

“Gah-… y-yes Michael…” you purred lowly to him. Feeling so dazed, you could feel a line of drool escaping the side of your mouth. He was doing so well… you couldn’t help it. You lazily kicked your panties off your ankles, feelin’ the material pool around your toes. At this point, you needed him deep inside you, touching your very soul. You knew he could get that deep. Only he could.

He drew his fingers back from between your legs, needing to glance at your wetness for him. He analyzed his fingers, spreading his fingers apart to stare at the web of your sexy wetness that connected between his fingers.

“What’s this, hm?” Michael teasingly asked, fluttering his slender fingers between you two. He chuckled deeply at your reaction, showing that beautiful, wide smile of his. “You got some nerve bein’ so wet for me. Only good girls get help with that. You think I Should I help you?”

“Yes, please. Please. I’ll be good… s’ good. God, Michael…” You hummed to him; desperation finally took over. You were completely undone.

“Spread your legs.” Michael asserted, nodding his head up at you, waiting for you to follow his request. His hand rested on your thighs, gently positioning himself right in between your legs. Michael fidgeted at his belt; the sound of the metal buckle filled the room. He yanked off his belt, pulling it off and throwing it down on the wood floor next to the bed. His pants easily slipped down after he removed his belt, pushing his briefs down to his own thighs, easing himself down to your level. You already had your legs spread for him, wrapping them around his waist. Michael held his base firm in his grasp, rubbing his tip around your aching hole, allowing you to feel every ridge of his round tip. Your head tilted back in anticipation, ready to feel him fill you all the way up.

“You’re so slick…. So wet… You look so beautiful from up here, y’know that?”

He slowly slid his way deep inside your hole, groaning at the way you feel, gripping him tightly around his shaft. There was a bit of resistance, but your pussy opened up fairly quickly. She needed this bad. Needed him more importantly. He breathed sharply through his teeth, giving you soft and rhythmic thrusts, making the bed creak rather roughly. His eye contact never wavered, not wanting to miss your face for anything. He could feel you holding your breath, not letting out those adorable moans he so loved. Your head slunk down, trying to hide your gaze from him. Michael reached his hand down to your lower jaw, pulling your head to sit in its neutral position, making sure you were looking at him.

“Hey, look at me. Breathe, angel. Breathe. It’s just us… That feel good, huh?” Michael nodded at you, making sure you would nod back. Once you did, he pulled all the way out of your sopping wet pussy, before slowly forcing himself back in. A gentle “pop” could be heard each time he entered you and pulled himself back out. Showcasing how wet and needy your cunt was. 

“Ooh… Michael… yes… f-fuu-..” You whimpered out to him, hooking your ankles tightly together around his back. He took that as a hint to stop pulling all the way out, but instead to stay deep and thrust with a little more force. You could feel him right in your stomach; a light groan released from you. 

“You feel me deep inside, don’t you, baby? Tell me where. Hurry.” Michael uttered breathlessly, pumping his hot cock even deeper. The way she held onto him made his eyes cross. Sweat started to appear on his forehead, causing him to reach up with his arm and swipe at it.

“Right there, Mikey.. I feel it right.. h-here..” You whimpered, pointing towards your stomach. Your index finger pressed gently against the intoxicating pressure you felt.

“Right here, baby? Yeah? You sound so cute-… give it to me.” Michael chuckled as he listened to your love-drunk voice, how it got so high-pitched when he dug into you. 

Your own mouth opened in shock because you could still feel him growing, his shaft swelling up in girth. He nodded at you, figuring you could feel it. His growing love for you. He started to thrust with a bit more effort, placing his hands on your thighs, gently lifting your legs up a bit so he could get even deeper. He held both of your ankles up with only one of his large hands, slamming his hips right up into your pussy. 

Your feet were now leveled with Michael’s face, and he didn’t mind. He loved looking at your pedicured toes. His hand descended lower on your ankle, massaging the sole of your right foot. The sound of your skin was blaring against each other’s skin. Beginning  to fill the room, low groans escaped from Michaels pouted lips. Those thrusts of his started to get more sloppy, less deliberate.

While Michael was looking down at you, he couldn’t help but stare at those breasts jumpin’ for him. Up and down, his eyes followed. Your pierced nipples were hypnotizing. His free hand angled itself down to gently squeeze the sides of your left juicy breast, loving the feeling of his palms being enveloped by your flesh.

The slapping sound grew louder, but his rhythm didn’t change a bit. Michael threw his head back, giving you one last thrust, which served as a warning. He was close to making a mess all over you.

“I’m about to-… God, baby take it…”

He pulled himself out of your warm and intoxicating pussy, stroking himself slowly with his sizable hand, allowing his warm white cum to cover your stomach and lower abdomen with his icing. A long, stretched-out whimper escaped his mouth as he came all over you. Shivers coursed through his spine, and goosebumps covered every inch of his body. 

“ ‘M sorry. You feel so damn good. Couldn’t help myself-…” He mumbled lowly, but he still wasn’t done finished with you. His hand reached for the ice-filled glass one last time, pulling it off of the nightstand where he had laid it. He threw his head back again, allowing an ice cube to slip past his lips once more, cooling down his hot mouth. Once his mouth was near freezing, he leaned his head down, lapping at your tender nipple bars once again. Michael’s hand pushed itself down your slick body, using his ring and middle finger to rub your puffy pussy steadily, keeping a tight circle against the area above your pretty clit. He moaned against your erect nipples, sending those familiar vibrations through your body again, soothing your fresh piercings. 

“Give me that cum, lovebug. You gonna give it to me?”

“Yes, Michael… God, yes… yes… just don't stop…”

Michael kept a steady rhythm against your pussy, not getting faster. You seemed to be responding perfectly to this touch, so he kept going. Your back arched against his touch, being hypnotized by that sticky noise that was popping in between your legs. The sound of Michael's cool tongue lapping against your tits echoed in the room as well; it was so overstimulating. You spread your legs wide, rolling your hips against his touch, finally releasing your hot cum all over his fingers.

“Mi-… Oh… Michael.. I’m there! Baby! I’m-…” You were cut off by your own desperate whimpers, alluding to your intense orgasm. He slowed the deliberate strokes of his fingers, gently drawing them back from between your legs. He examined the wetness between his fingers and looked you deep in the eye as he extended his tongue, swirling it around his fingers, moaning at your sweet taste. His eyes fluttered shut, focusing on your taste. 

“Mm-.. I can’t get over how sweet you taste. Can-.. Can I give you some, Angel?”

“S-Sure, Michael..” You hummed sensually and leaned up closer to him. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth, leaning down to your face. His mouth connected with your own, allowing you to taste your essence against his lips and tongue. Michael’s tongue swirled around your own, and he still hasn’t stopped moaning yet. Neither did you. His hand found itself cupping your lower jaw, tilting your head so he could make the kiss even deeper. His big hands cover the entirety of your lower face. Your tongue forced itself inside his tongue, yearning to taste his saliva. Slowly, Michael pulled away from you, getting a full look at your filthy image.

“Mm… Such a perfect picture. You and them little piercings you got. Don’t come home late again, sweetness. Or I won’t take it easy on you next time…”

“Fine… I’ll see what I can do.” You teased him, beginning to rise and sit up on your elbows. Michael chuckled at your teasing as he plopped down on the spot that was empty right up next to you. He propped himself up with his elbow, staring deeply at your curvaceous frame, those Bambi eyes glued on your titties.

“I’m growin’ real fond of those piercin’s. So sexy… God. I love you… so much. You spoil me, gorgeous.” Michael reached over to you, pressing his lips against your cheek. His warm breath hit you, warming you up because of those ice-cold nipples. 

Another late night, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. After he promised he would be home on time, you knew he was lyin’. You knew not to hold your breath. You got into your old, oversized Aaliyah T-shirt that was stretched beyond comprehension from a laundry mishap. As well as some lacy dark red panties with black lace on the hem. You had your hair wrapped up in a scarf, a bonnet overtop, protecting your silk press.

You were eating popcorn, sitting on the couch, slouching. A sign that you were relaxed, just watching Bad Girls Club, albeit a little loud on the television. There was an ashtray in front of you, another sign that you were lighting up a blunt while you watched. You crunched on the popcorn in the middle of picking up another piece until you heard the locks undo themselves. Making you drop that piece of popcorn you fiddled into your hand. You heard a collection of mutters, hums, and beatboxing that broke the near silence in the room.

“Angelface! I’m home! Where’s my girl?”

“I don’t know, look for her.”

You said in a bothered hum, just rolling your eyes while staying seated on the couch. A little irritated that he was late coming home once again. You leaned forward, angling the blunt to rest in between your thumb and index finger, lighting the end with your hot pink bedazzled mini lighter. You sighed, hearing the faint crackle, giving the indicator to release your finger on the lighter. You opened up your lungs to inhale, holding it in, then releasing the white opaque smoke into the air in front of your lips. Michael finally found you, pushing off his large fur coat, hanging it up in the coat closet.

“Aw, someone’s in a boo-boo mood. C’mon. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“You’re late again, Michael.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I went to visit the children at the Saint Jude’s treatment center… and it ran over a little longer than I thought after rehearsal for the new video. But I’m here now, baby. I’m all yours…”

Michael smiled softly, slipping out his loafers easily, playfully moonwalking over to you, knowing that would make you smile. He finally reached you, planting soft kisses on your cheeks, holding your jaw in between his index finger and thumb.

“Mm… I’ll tell you what… I missed you. So. mwah. Much.”

He spoke to you in between kisses. You finally started to feel a smile stretch across your face, a giggle trying to break free from your throat.

“I-… I guess I missed you too. A lot. I just… hate when you’re late. We barely have time to do anything now.”

You said with an adorable pout replacing that smile you adorned previously, and Michael shook his head, grabbing the blunt from your fingertips. He gently placed it down on on the ashtray before grabbing you by your cheeks with one hand, pulling you gently up to his lips.

“I got a few ideas…You know you don’t need to be smokin’ that stuff to relax you, pretty thing. That’s my job. Don’t you get that? Give me a nod if you do.”

He smiles at you, showing off all those perfect white teeth. His thumb found your chin, just rubbing over it, staring deeply into your eyes. He still hasn’t taken those aviators off, but tonight, you didn’t mind them. They can stay on for now. You were finished looking over his face deeply, seemingly stuck in a daze. You nodded your head goofily, your mouth opening, hungry for a kiss.

“Awh, you want a kiss? I knew you missed me! C’mon, stand up for me. Show me what you got on tonight.”

“I-… I did. O-Okay.. standing…”

You uttered awkwardly, uncrossing your legs from your criss-cross-applesauce position, rising from your comfortable spot. You stood up in front of him, his hand reaching for yours to help you stand. He sat down, replacing you in your spot on the couch. His legs spread themselves, manspreading as he watched you intently. He leaned forward, stretching his arms forward to swiftly pick up that same blunt that was between your lips. He angled it to sit comfortably between his index and middle finger, smoking it like a plain cigarette.

He brought the moist tip of the blunt up to his own lips, opening up his lungs to inhale as well, breathing in. His eyes fluttered shut feeling his high reach his head. Michael released the blunt from his long drag. Opening his mouth and released a large white cloud of smoke, blowing it teasingly in your direction.

“Mm… that’s better. Very good. Whatcha wearing, my baby?”

“I got on my old Aaliyah shirt…”

“Aw… I just love Aaliyah. Bless her heart. You look adorable. Whatcha got on underneath?”

“Just my panties…”

“I see…”

“I just got my T-shirt and my panties on… just how you like it..”

You sang the song effortlessly, humming the melody sweetly. You teased and playfully pulled up your shirt, showing off your perfect figure. Those lovely breasts and lace red panties on display for him. Michael leaned in, beckoning you to come closer into his space with his index finger. He kept the blunt resting in between his lips, taking shallow puffs, allowing the smoke to bellow from in between his lips.

“C’mere. I need you. Y’know red’s my favorite color. didya do that for me?”

“Maybe I did-…”

You found yourself straddling Michael’s lap, his lean legs holding you up. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, your hands hooking around the back. You pulled the blunt from between his lips, twisting your back to face the ashtray on the table. You laid the half-smoked blunt there, twisting your back into its neutral position to face Michael once again.

“How you gonna tell me not to smoke, then you do it?”

“Do as I say, not as I do, youngun.”

“Oh, that's so unfair.”

“You better respect your elders. That is… If you want the little gift I brought back for you.”

“Mm… fine. It better be that new juicy tracksuit I wanted s’ bad.”

“Maybe it is…Maybe it isn’t… you’ll just have to see later.”

Michael’s fingers found themselves teasing at the hem of your T-shirt. Gently pulling it up. His ice-cold knuckles brushed themselves up your abdomen to your chest, making you hiss in shock.

“Argh… Mi-…Your hands are freezing…”

“They’ll get warm soon, watch.”

He was finally able to wrap his hands around your full breasts, massaging them gently. His bottom lip disappeared with his top lip, biting down on it. Michael licked his lips, swiping his pink tongue across his mouth, leaning in to plant gentle kisses against your neck. His kisses were soft at first, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from his breath. His lips grew to be more firm, opening his mouth wider, making you feel his tongue against your skin. He started lapping at your flesh, tasting you, suctioning his lips to your neck. Michael moaned at your taste as he began muttering against your skin.

“I’m sorry… so sorry… I was late… I love you… You love me?”

His hands were still steadily massaging your breasts; the relief started to melt over you and cascade down your body. A groan escaped your juicy lips.

“I do…”

“Say it to me..”

“I love you. I do.”

He felt your nipple erect fairly quickly from his cool fingers, making him lean into your chest and hold your breast easily in his large palm. His lips latched onto your nipple, his hot lips wrapped around your areola. You groaned a bit louder, tilting your head back in satisfaction. He was right; he was starting to warm up, as were you.

As you were sitting on his lap, you could feel the material of his jeans poking into your ass. His growing erection started to prod at your panties; it was almost painful for you. You could feel how hard it was; you could only imagine how it felt for him. You took the initiative to quickly release him from this fabric prison: those jeans. You unfastened the copper button first, then swiftly unzipped his zipper, gently lifting his heavy bulge so you could yank those jeans down.

“Need you…” You mumbled, hardly above a purr. It was as if you spoke in a gentle whimper, not intending for him to hear that.

“What’s that, baby? Speak up for me.” Michael whispered with a sultry tone against your breasts. Not wanting to lift his head up right now and separate from those perfect breasts.

“I need you so bad, Michael.”

Michael smiled softly, leaning his head up to look at you. His mouth finally released your nipple from between his lips, and a faint smile was painted across his face, just staring at your perfect chest. He snapped out of his daze, leaning up to your mouth. He circled the tip of your nose with his own, teasing you. He grazed his lower lip against yours, allowing you to feel his breath right up against your face.

“Stop teasin’…just kiss me already... please?”

“Gee Whiz… You’re so strict today…”

Michael chuckled and locked his lips with your own, his tongue immediately invading your mouth. His hot and thick tongue wormed its way inside, collecting as much of your saliva as he could, groaning against your lips. His hand absentmindedly found itself up your thick thighs, getting closer up to your ass. His large palm finally found its way, planting a soft smack on your skin. A grunt escaping his lips, a moan escaping yours.

His hands slipped their way into your panties, pulling them to the side. A large mound is now visible from his big hand resting in your underwear. You started to feel those skilled fingers focusing on your clit. He caressed your wet cunt, just listening to it, affirming that it missed his touch. He started to add his ring finger, keeping a steady pace as he spread your legs with his own. His moans got deeper, vibrating against your lips. Michael’s mouth opened a bit more, his tongue flicking against yours, swirling that thick tongue with your own.

“Mm-… You really did miss me.. I feel her….”

He chuckled deeply against your lips, feeling that you were wet enough for something more. His fingers easily glided against your stickiness, moving down to that pulsing hole. His fingertips teased your tight opening, circling around it.

“Y-… You’re such a tease, Michael… You drive me crazy…”

“Mmhm… Tell me what you need from me.”

“Give ‘em to me. I missed you bad, Michael. Please?”

“You sound so pretty when you beg. You really do.”

He giggled once again against your ear, slowly thrusting those fingers inside your pussy. She immediately sucked his fingertips in, rolling your hips against his lap. He felt you get hotter in between your legs, the warmth seeping through his jeans and boxers. His left hand pushed itself into his boxers, stroking himself off, staring up at you deeply. He pulled away from your lips, sitting back and watching you ride his fingers, focusing on your pleasure.

You reached down, smacking his hand away from his cock, making a soft laugh escape from his lips. Your hand replaced his own, making your hand move up and down, while keeping a half-circle motion with your wrist. You leaned over his thick tip, collecting saliva in your mouth, filling your cheeks. You gradually rolled your tongue out of your mouth, allowing your spit to drip past your lips, right on his dick. The view alone made him moan, just watching you.

“Get on top ‘a me..” He uttered breathlessly while still thrusting those long fingers in your hungry pussy.

“You don’t have any condoms? Do ya?”

“I-… I-… fu-… I think… we ran out… Please… I need you around me. Please… Please lemme in.”

You leaned into his ear, holding his cleft chin with your thumb, whispering very faintly.

“You sound so pretty when you beg… First tell me… Is it the Juicy Tracksuit in that bag?”

“Yes, princess. I got it in all of three of the colors for you…”

“Ugh, gemme pregnant already!”

Michael laughed loudly, covering his mouth. He leaned up and began covering your neck in fluttering kisses once again. His deep laughter started to fade against your skin as he gripped onto your hips, lifting you just enough so that he could angle himself deep inside your needy cunt.

After your performance two months ago, the public’s reception of you was… mixed. To say the least. Your voice was amazing; you had soul, that’s for sure. But your style and your image needed adjusting. Your sound was too tame for the 80s. And critics believed you needed more of an edge, something more risky in your lyrics. Despite your mild performance, it made the newspaper in Hollywood. Your updated take on Disco made people curious and definitely garnered attention, prompting them to listen to you and what you had to offer in terms of stage presence. The attention came practically overnight after you and your band found yourselves in the newspaper. Your band started booking venues left and right; most, if not all, of the critics were talking about your image. Everyone could feel the potential from you guys, but… something was missing. You needed something…someone to help you reach your highest potential. 

At about 4 in the morning, your manager got a phone call on her bedroom landline. It woke her up in a cold sweat. She wasn’t expecting to be working so early/late. When she answered, she dropped the phone, then screamed out into the empty room. It was the team of Michael Jackson. THE Michael Jackson.

Ever since that call, you had been working with Michael routinely. Your manager demanded it. Today’s lesson: Passion. Michael could tell you really wanted this as your future. But you weren’t willing to take any constructive criticism to change anything. Three sessions in, and you still wouldn’t give in to his plans for you. Always having to rewrite it and flip the script. Right now, you are in his expansive studio, practicing new sounds for your band and recording new tracks you could show them later. Michael was writing down some ideas with you in his notepad, tapping the pencil against the spine of the pad as he spoke to you, his voice carrying softly in the studio.

“What risks are you really willing to take in your lyrics? 

“I’m sorry?”

“In music, you have to really just feel the music and let it pick you up… and take you anywhere… Pure escapism. Does that make sense?”

Michael pivoted in his chair to face you after his inquiry. He gave you a slight nod at you, a subtle way of telling you to chime in.  “Mm… I don’t know. I like to have a more structured take on it. I don’t want to exactly be “carried”, Michael.”

You pondered on his statement, not even looking him straight in the eye when you answered. Your eyes seemed more focused on your number two pencil, twiddling it between your fingers. You felt very intimidated by his way of making music, the way he talked about music as if he knew more than you. You two could never seem to get on the same page with anything. You started a music career seriously so that you could be your own muse. You were your own passion. You didn’t need that advice from someone else. 

“Well, of course it would be structured but… I don’t think you’re quite understandin’.”

Michael shook his head at your own answer, getting irritated that you didn’t even want to understand where he was coming from. He took music very seriously, and seeing that you didn’t want to consider it from another point of view frustrated him. But he still hasn’t given up today. Every project Michael starts, he sees it through. Michael was sitting next to you in the booth after recording a track, swiveling a bit in his chair. His foot was tapping impatiently, just waiting for you to come to your senses.

“Y’know, I’m gettin’ real tired of you sayin’ that.”

Once gave him that response, clearly showing you were peeved, the tapping stopped. He sat up in his chair, raising an eyebrow. His jeans rustled against the material of his studio chair as he positioned himself to really focus on your words.

“Sayin’ what?”

“That! That right there.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“THAT. You’re always sayin’ I’m not quite understandin’. You know how condescending that sounds?”

“That’s not what I-..”

“You seem to think that you’re the only one who knows how music works. There is no right way to do it. Have you ever thought about that?”

“Look. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. All’s I’m saying is that you’re not gettin’ how I’m explainin’ it. Why are you pitching a fit?”

Michael swiftly stood up, walking over to you. He leaned up against the wall, getting closer to your surrounding area, analyzing your body language. His eyes wandered over your physique, noting how closed off you seemed towards him. It was killing him that he wasn’t getting through to you. He had never met someone who gave him such resistance. He liked it. He liked that challenge from you. In his words to Quincy, he liked the grindin’. His arms crossed over themselves, releasing a huff in exasperation.

“Tell me somethin’.. Do you even want my help? Don’t you know I’m on your side? I’m not the enemy here. I can promise you that.”

“I-…*sigh* … I just-… feel like you don’t give me room to learn on my own. You’re-.. crowdin’ me.

“Okay… that’s why I’m askin’. What risks are you willin’ to take? Are you willin’ to-… to be a little vulnerable? Talk about whatever you’re yearnin’ for?”

You turned your face away from Michael, a horrible attempt to conceal your facial expression from his question. You let out a breathy chuckle from your diaphragm, your shoulders rising and falling from how deeply you were laughing. 

“C’mon. It’s not funny. It’s serious stuff. Quincy taught me that the more people can really feel how much you want whatever you’re singin’ about, the listeners can really feel it too. It makes ‘em want it just as bad as you.”

“Okay… Makes sense.”

“Yeah? See! How about we give it a try? Just look at me and tell me what you really want your listeners to feel. Express to me what you want your listeners to feel about you. Are you a lover? A fighter?”

You felt your cold gaze gradually getting warmer. When Michael forced himself into your field of vision, you had no choice but to soften your expression. You started to really see him, how gorgeous he was. Michael had such an air to him that would grip the attention of anyone. You were finally starting to take notice of this fact. You, at the same time, despised him for it. It came so easily for him. He demanded presence not only on the stage, but off of it. And he got it, effortlessly. You were jealous, obviously. So, you weren’t going to make this an easy task for him.

“Michael, I really can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? What’s stoppin’ you?”

You found yourself enraptured in Michael’s eyes, just as he wanted. His body moved in closer, so close that you could smell the laundry detergent emanating from his clothing. He made sure that you could feel his energy, needing you to feel him. His eyes twinkled in the studio’s soft lighting. You tilted your head, just a tick. Your mind went blank as you focused on the light reflecting in those large, dark pupils. Your body released a deep and longing sigh. Michael’s eyes followed yours, not taking his attention away from you. He wasn’t ready to let go. He felt deep in his heart that he was close to a breakthrough with you.

“You’re just-…look. We been at this for hours. Isn’t our session up? I just need some time to think.” 

“Oh, C’mon, we were gettin’ somewhere. Just a little longer?”

“I said no. I just need to go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you later, Mike.”

You stated to him promptly, standing up from your chair. You leaned down, grabbing your backpack that was resting by your foot, slinging it over your shoulder. You seemingly closed up completely, needing to just run away from your problems. Rather than confronting it.  Your voice was firm and solid. Nothing Michael could say would make you change your mind or make you think twice. He watched you packing your things up, very disappointed that you were leaving. 

“Okay, I guess. Be safe goin’ home then.”

……………..

Later that evening, you were lying in bed. Not being able to rest, even though that’s why you left in the first place, to get rest. You couldn’t even shut your eyes without seeing Michael’s face burned into your eyelids. That perfect smile, those eyes…You couldn’t process how a person could be so perfect. Even when being met with your tough demeanor. He was so patient with you, so caring. You thought back to the moment when your eyes met his, if only for a moment. You’d come to find out that when you thought about him late at night, your skin would grow goosebumps; your skin seemed to be reacting to some invisible touch, or just the thought of his touch excited you. You ached to feel his breath against your neck, telling you what to do or even just explaining how much music meant to him. You hated yourself for it, but you picked up your bedroom landline hesitantly. Your fingers wrapped around the cord of the phone, still with hesitation. You grabbed your Rolodex that was sitting on the side of your nightstand, flipping through the unimportant, irrelevant names. You finally landed on the M’s. Michael’s name was there. You carefully dialed his number, making sure not to land on the wrong digits, because you weren’t going to try this again. With the final number you pressed, you tapped on the small image of the phone, starting a phone call. You laid there on the bed, listening to that muffled ringing in your ear. Your fingers absent-mindedly fiddled with the cord, just waiting to hear that soft and light voice. You bit your lip in anticipation, just listening closely for the crackling noise of the phone being picked up off the hook. You finally heard that crackle. You could hear faint breathing on the other end, as well as a quiet yawn. 

“Hello?”

“Yeah, hello? Is this Michael?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“It’s your protegè. From the past few days. We’ve been workin’ on music together?”

“Oh! Yes. I didn’t know you had my number. You’ve never called me before.”

“I know… I just wanted to call, and I guess… say sorry for how I was actin’ earlier.”

“Okay…”

Michael’s voice resonated with a dubious tone. There was a silence on his end, just listening in for what more you had to say. You could hear the rustling of his clothing against the speaker as you waited on your end for him to say something else.

“Was-…Was that your apology?”

“It was. I hope it was good enough for ya. ‘Cause there’s no re-dos!”

You heard a faint giggle on the other side of the phone; you could feel him smiling. 

“You bug! You’re so silly.” You imagined those perfect white teeth being displayed to you. Those dimples…god those dimples. They nearly melted your heart in that studio. You almost bent to his requests and orders for you, keyword ALMOST. You still had your dignity intact. Mostly. 

“It’s good to hear you’re in a better mood. Didn’t mean to… drive you off.” On Michael’s end, his skinny fingers were fiddling with the cord on his landline. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and make you end the call. Hearing your voice outside of work was nice. He suddenly wanted to hear more and get you to talk to him more openly.

“I know you didn’t. I just wanted to hear from you. Are you busy right now, Michael?”

“I’m not… at least… not really. Just writing down a hook for a song. Next time I see you, I want to sing it to you. Then you tell me what you think about it. You like that idea?

You felt your lips press together, just listening to his soft and gentle voice. Your ear couldn’t get any closer to the speaker of your phone. Your fingers found themselves tracing over the curves of your body, keeping Michael’s angelic voice in your ear. Your fingers finally landed on your lower abdomen, teasing the hemline of your pajama shorts. 

“Hello? Y-…You still there?

“Yes! Yes. Sorry. I’m still… That sounds like a good idea, Michael. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. There’s somethin’ I wanted to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Well-… I noticed that you were so close to really talkin’ to me about-…what music was to you. What you were willing to risk. I could see in your eyes. You wanted to tell me s’ bad. But somethin’ stopped you. Do you not trust me?”

Your fingers finally slipped themselves inside of your shorts, gently caressing your mound to the sound of his silky voice. 

“’Course I trust you. I just need somethin’ from you. Help me tap into my desires…My yearnin’ for…”

“For what, huh?”

Your lips shut themselves before you gave away too much information. You finally had this man on the phone after you were kicking yourself for it. At this point, you were cautious. You couldn’t seduce him. After your behavior back in the studio. He would have every right to shoot you down then, drop you as a protegè. You felt you were making a fool of yourself over the phone, self-conscious about every word that was escaping you. Your hand shot itself up from in between your legs. Your behavior turned from one of a flirty nature to being more pensive. You were incredibly frustrated at yourself for trying to stoop this low. 

“I guess… my yearnin’ for success? Help me be more passionate?”

“‘Course I can do that. Next session… We’ll work on your entire stage presence. Okay?”

“My stage presence? Whatchu got planned for my stage presence, Michael?

“Oh, y’know… get you into some… seductive clothing. You have a beautiful figure. It’s just a matter of using your assets that were given to you by God. I got my costume designer to make some sketches…”

You sat up in your bed, resting your head against your headboard. Your mouth was agape in shock after hearing that he thought your figure was beautiful. Your mind couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that he wanted to see you in sexier outfits on stage. You still couldn’t stand the man and his…perfectness. But, at the same time, you wanted to make him like you. You wanted to make someone so perfect be absolutely captivated by you.

“What kinda things did you want to see me wear on stage, Mikey? What parts of my body would you like exposed?”

On the other end of the line, Michael’s cheeks grew flushed. His eyes squeezed themselves shut while he smiled wide, feeling very bashful. His muscles tensed up from the sound of your voice, that nickname you gave him. His hand squeezed around the phone, those veins on full display. You started to give him a more suggestive tone, which made him want to shoot one back. When he responded to you, you could hear that smile in his words, making you smile yourself. Another soft giggle lifted above the silence after your question to him.

“TSK. That’s a good question. Well-… You got some nice, thick legs. Amazing hips. They’re almost distracting. Sometimes I don’t know how we get any work done. Never seen a girl with curves like yours…”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. I…I really like lookin’ at you. I was sad when you stormed out. Couldn’t look at you no more.

You went absolutely quiet and still on your end; all you could do was look at your phone in disbelief. You pulled it away from your ear, not believing he just said that he liked looking at you. Not only that, he said he REALLY liked looking at you. 

“I-…um, I really like looking at you too, Mike. You’re very handsome. You make me really nervous..”

“I make YOU nervous? You’re very intimidating. You’re beautiful; then you’re very confident…You know exactly what you want.”

“What if I said that… I wanted you? I really do. I wish I hadn’t stormed out this afternoon. You just… grew on me. I can’t explain it.”

“You’re kidding. How do you wan’ me? You wan’ me just holdin’ you? I love cuddlin’. I could just…hold you tight, sing my new songs in your ear… tell you all my dreams I have planned for you.”

“Oh, Michael...”

“You like the sound of that?”

“I do… God, I-… Can you just keep talkin’?”

“Mmhm… Sure. Tell me what you’re wearin’ right now.

“A low-cut tank-top… Some tiny shorts..”

“Mm..”

“Tell me how you’d cuddle me. Would it lead to… anything else?”

Michael licked his lips, surprised that the call went in this direction. He spread his legs to get more comfortable in his studio chair. Instinctively, his fingers landed on the zipper of his jeans, pushing it down slowly. His fingers rushed up to the copper button on them as well, unfastening it. His large hands found themselves on his boxers, stroking over the hard tent, developing in his underwear.

“I’d cuddle you by keeping my arm around you. Keep my head on your breast, the perfect pillow. I would just want to hear your breathin’. Focus on that. Then I would… I would slowly pull your tank top down, exposing those gorgeous breasts of yours. Hold them in my palm and just wrap my lips around your nipples. Mm…Listen to your breathin’ get faster.”

Your hands found themselves slipping right back into your shorts, rubbing over your mound, slowly. Your breathing grew louder over the phone, and moans were beginning to escape from your lips. Your eyes rolled back, just imagining those lips were wrapped around you right now.

“That sounds… s’ good. You wanna know what I’d do?”

“Definitely.”

“I’d run my fingers through your hair, stroke your head while you sucked my breasts. I’d pull your pants down and stroke you off, while cradlin’ your head… keepin’ you close. Make you nurse from me for as long as I want.”

You could hear soft groans on Michael’s end; this was painful for him. Now you really got him going. He was stroking himself off over his boxers, breathing heavily into the speaker. 

“Oh, baby.”

You melted at the sound of his voice, needy and whiny. His calling you ‘baby’ made your night. You needed nothin’ else after that. Your hands found themselves finally in your panties, focused on the area above your clit. Giving you just enough pleasure. Your moans excited him, made him want to never leave this line. You suddenly heard a ringing on the other line, groaning at the sound. You usually did get a lot of calls, but tonight was not the night for this. It could be somethin’ important for your band. You had to hang up and answer that call. 

“Hey, Mike?”

“Yes?”

“I gotta let you go… I-… I got a call comin’ in. I have to hang up, okay? I’ll see you next week. Promise.”

“You-… sigh …. Please don’t go…”

“It could be somethin’ important for the band. I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I missed it. I promise I’ll see you soon.”

Michael groaned over the phone, looking down at his twitching bulge. His loins were throbbing painfully. You were killing him; he needed to make you ache in the way you were making him.

“Okay.”

“Michael, I’m sorry.”

“I told you it’s okay. Just hang up. I’ll speak to you later.”

You could hear Michael’s voice get cold and firm, just like yours was in the studio. You knew you messed up. He was completely undone just for you, even though he begged you not to go. You disconnected the phone. From his point of view, all he heard was the faint click and then the muffled dial tone. 

He was irritated, immediately fastening up his jeans once more. When he was done fastening up his jeans, he rested his jaw on his palm, staring blankly at a random corner in his studio. His gaze was tense, the sound of your sensual moans on repeat in his brain. Tattooed there. At this point, he couldn’t get back to his love song but decided to start a new one. One that expressed his lustful anger towards women. Even though you started this phone rendezvous, you were the first to conclude it. You felt awful. Though, he wouldn’t know it. Once you hung up the phone, it was your manager, calling you to schedule a meeting for the new outfits that Michael’s designer had sketched for you and your band. You agreed to a set time and the location of the meeting, all while thinking about the sound of Michael’s voice. In hindsight, you don’t even remember what you agreed to. Your mind was completely elsewhere. All you could think about was…

It was a chilly and yucky autumn evening. Rainy and dark. Gloomy night, perfect for getting into some trouble. It was two days before Halloween, and all of your online friends were in the spirit. Most of your online friends changed their MySpace backgrounds to Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason Vorhees, or even the SAW franchise. But you changed yours to a song. A very specific song. The song Thriller. You dedicated your page to the whole aesthetic of thriller, since it was your favorite song this time of year. You even created your own, handmade jacket that very closely matches Michael’s original one from the video. It was going to be your costume for the hottest party of the year. You created your own “spin” of the Jacket, which you termed the “Thrill-her” jacket. A more risqué version of the original. It was more of a cropped cut, showing your lovely figure. It was also meant to be worn with a very skimpy tank top underneath. You were anticipating this party just to show off to your mates. 

You finally arrived home from the subway, collapsing into your computer chair, absolutely exhausted from your agonizingly long day at your university. A two-hour lecture along with a surprise test. You needed to completely relax… by getting into some mischief. You finally entered your safe space, your own little cocoon, smelling very strongly of pumpkin spice from your candle. You dimmed the lights in your room as you sat down on your computer chair, logging onto the chatrooms.

You thought it was time that you found some like-minded people who would appreciate the craftsmanship of your jacket. You searched around the chatrooms, looking for an MJ group that shared their experiences with Michael, their own memorabilia, and other miscellaneous things. You found one that caught your eye, making you join it instantly, coined: “Angelface luvrs<3”. 

You clicked on it promptly. This chatroom wasn’t like any other you’ve ever seen. These women were simply untamed in this chatroom, explaining the freaky things they would do with Michael Jackson, the things he could get away with, and also how some of their first times meeting him in person. You had never been in a chat like this; it made you feel completely and utterly seen, knowing that you related to all of these different women and their stories. Once you clicked onto the chat, your fingers started enthusiastically clacking against the keyboard instantly, talking about your Michael jacket that you made yourself. 

All of the women requested to see you immediately; they needed to get a glimpse of a fellow Michael lover, and they wanted to add you as a club member. You felt like you truly found a community; you felt seen, and your interests were suddenly validated. So, of course, you stood from your chair, walking briskly to your closet door, yanking a clothes hanger out, the jacket hanging on it.

You took off your hoodie so that the jacket could rest smoothly on your body, your lace black bra on view. You were so centered on your excitement for presenting your jacket that you didn’t even notice. You got the confidence to adjust your webcam, taking a close photo of your homemade “thrill-her” jacket. You had a small glimpse of your bra in the photo, a small mistake on your part. Although the photo still came out very hot. There was even a bit of the flesh from your breast in frame, making a small appearance. 

The women in the chat teased and complimented you on your breast that was peeking out, as well as the very impressive replica of your MJ jacket.

You knew there were people out there who loved Michael as much as you did. It felt very fulfilling getting as many compliments as you did; you felt as if you’d never want to leave this chatroom. 

All of a sudden, you got a faint ringing sound emanating from your computer speakers. You looked in the top right corner of your monitor, noticing a new notification from your inbox. There was at first a friend request. You accepted the friend request from the user, excited to have a new friend from the server.

Once the friend request was accepted, you received a message. A user named “Dr. Black”. Three text bubbles showed up, seeing that the user was beginning to type in your own personal chat.

Dr. Black: “Hi there.”

You: “Hi! Are you part of the Angel Face Lover chat?”

Dr. Black: “Oh, yes. It’s my favorite chatroom. I’m in these kinds of things all the time.”

You: “Yeah, I’m really starting to like it there. All of the girls are so nice. And they love Michael just as much as I do!”

Dr. Black: “You love Michael?”

You: “Oh, of course I do. No, question.”

Dr. Black: “Tell me how much you love Michael.”

You: “So much so that I created his thriller Jacket. Didn’t you see it in the chat room?”

Dr. Black: “Boy, did I? You looked fantastic.”

You: “Thank you, girlie!”

Dr. Black: “Oh, darlin’. I’m not a young lady, haha. I’m a gentleman. I can show you. Don’t you have a camera on your computer? I have so many of ‘em’.”

You: “Oh! I apologize, I thought it was all women in that chat. And you’re so lucky. Those things are hella expensive. Were you wanting to videochat with me, Dr. Black?”

Dr. Black: “Yes. Very much.”

You: “That sounds fine. You seem pretty chill. I’ll turn my webcam on first- that cool?”

Dr. Black: “That’s perfect.”

You were still riding on a high from this newfound chat group, so you thought you would still go for it. Enjoy the ride. What’s the worst that could happen? You felt your heartbeat banging against your sternum, even still. You had convinced yourself you were about to be met with a freak. Some creature or ghoul that would use these chatrooms to escape their boring life as a misfit. You started to reel your fingers back from the keyboard, yanking yourself away from your monitor. Your home-made jacket rustled and scratched against your skin; the silence was deafening in your room. You seemed to be taking quite a while to turn on your camera. Dr. Black began to message you once more. Getting desperate to see you in front of him. You peeked down at your private chat, seeing three bubbles appear, then a new message.

Dr. Black: “You still there, sweetness?”

You: “Sorry, yes. Turning it on now, one sec.”

You collected yourself again, clearing your throat. Your fingertips swiped at the curls resting on the sides of your face, getting them out of your way. You nervously licked your lips, feeling your mouth drying up. You were too much in your head; you had to psyche yourself out. Whatever was going to be behind your screen couldn’t hurt you. You let out a quiet groan, laying your palm against your mouse, clicking on that dreaded button that turned on your camera. Your face appeared in the corner of your monitor. Your lovely smile is on full display. Not just your face, but your open, handmade jacket. Your jacket was a bit oversized for you, but it still showed off your lovely figure. Your curls were messy, falling at your shoulders. “Dr. Black” had the perfect view of your upper body. Your full breasts, sitting behind your jacket, made Dr. Black quite excited. You waved to the camera, tilting your head at it, confused about when this mystery man was appearing. After the very ominous warning, you couldn’t be met with a no-show. Your fingers slipped back down from the camera, beginning to type once again in the chatroom, your eyes facing down towards your keyboard. Dr. Black never took his eyes off you. His body physically reacted to seeing you, his breath catching in his throat. Although you didn’t notice, since he didn’t turn his camera on just yet. 

You: “I don’t see your handsome face, Dr. Black. At least, I’m sure you are. C’mon, now you gotta show yours. That’s not fair.”

Dr. Black: “I’m sorry, love. I’m just nervous. You’re just so gorgeous… Very good fish. I’ll turn my camera on now.”

You reeled back after hearing that nickname. “Fish.” Who says that? You could swear you knew who would say such a thing. Your heart accelerated even more upon reading that nickname; your head soon lifted to the camera once again. Your big brown eyes focused on the camera lens, waiting to see another fellow Michael Jackson fan like you. Finally, something flickered on your screen. A figure there. You could tell he had black hair. Straightened, it appeared. The hair was tied back into a ponytail. You took note of the black wispy bangs that framed the face before you. That jawline, that chin, those cheekbones. His eyes were hidden by large aviator glasses. The figure was chewing gum; you could tell from the jaw muscles flexing over and over. Chewing rather hard while staring at your frame. It could be a nervous tic, or it could be the overwhelming feeling to say something he may regret, wanting to save it for later. You noticed a grin gradually stretching across Dr. Black’s lips. He chuckled deeply, noticing how hard you were staring at his image. This figure was also sporting a loose-fitting white t-shirt. His thin frame was practically swimming in the material. You began to speak up, puffing out your chest in confidence. “You like what you see, don’t you?

Dr. Black nods very slowly. Those lips of his suddenly disappeared, being replaced by a pink tongue, swiping itself across his lips. He didn’t say a word, allowing his body to speak for him. That was until he spoke up, voice low, yet shaky. As if he hadn’t done this before, but was still trying to maintain confidence.

“How long have you been in the angelface chatroom? I’ve never seen you in there before. I’m there almost every night.” 

“Oh, not long. Tonight was my first time. It’s a stupid story… anyway-..”

You were cut off, completely. Dr. Black shook his head and raised his hand, a sign to stop right where you were in the middle of your sentence. 

“C’mon, tell me about it. It’s okay. My ears are yours.”

The man’s voice was low, but still recognizable. You knew for sure who it was, but you didn’t want to scare this alleged mystery man away. You allowed him to stay anonymous, but…but you knew deep down in your soul who this man was. It had to be. It only excited you even more, as if you were playing this game with this man. 

“Well… my ‘friend’ Ashlyn put down my Michael jacket. She said I need to let Michael go…dress up as something hotter. But Michael is pretty hot to me. So, I wanted to dress up just like him.”

Your statement is met with a deep chuckle. Dr. Black covered his mouth and shook his head. He adjusted himself in his large computer chair. He reached forward towards his desk, wanting to get closer to your image on the monitor. It was as if he could really touch you, feel your skin if he leaned in just a bit more.

“She said that? Really? But you look adorable in the jacket. Who cares what she says? Always be true to yourself. Isn’t that what Michael always says to his fans?”

“You’re right. That’s why I love him so much. He’s so wise. You know, you sound just like Michael.”

“You really think so?” 

“Yeah… Not just your words, but… that voice.. I was imagining what you’d sound like, but this is way better. Your voice oozes with sex appeal. Do you sing, Dr. Black?”

The mystery man blushed deeply. He didn’t want you to catch a glimpse of his smile, so his large hand covered his lips. He seemed to be insecure about his smile; he wanted to seem more nonchalant than how he was presenting to you in this moment.

“Oh, cut it out, you’re embarrassing me. But yes, from time to time. I try not to sing on these things, though. I just like to talk, get to know some strangers. Meet pretty girls like you. I’ve never gotten this far with any of them.”

“I guess I’m glad to be your first, Dr. Black. You aren’t what I thought you were going to be. I like surprises, though. Do you mind? This jacket is just a little uncomfortable.”

Mr. Black watched you adjust and get yourself more comfortable. You opened the jacket just a bit. Every inch of fabric from the jacket creased back, bringing every lovely piece of skin into view of the camera. Your collarbone presented itself; your soft and youthful skin glistened against the monitor of your computer. Dr. Black adjusted his glasses, watching you closely. You could tell his frame was getting closer to the camera. Close enough that you could now see that perfect pointed nose. He didn’t take his eyes off you, scared he would miss something he wouldn’t forgive himself for missing. His head tilted curiously as he stared at you, fidgeting with your homemade Thriller jacket.

“Oh boy, you’re… you’re very, very sexy… You’re gettin’ me uh… riled up. Your boyfriend’s really lucky. Be with a girl pretty as you…” Dr. Black appeared to look at you from the corner of his eye, peeking from his glasses to hear what you'd say. He was slyly hoping that you didn’t have one. But it didn’t seem to matter in the end. He just needed to see that gorgeous body of yours.

“Would you believe me if I said that I didn’t have a boyfriend?”

“You’re kidding…A pretty girl like you is single? I don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. Dating men these days is like dating a brick. It’s like they’re just… not present mentally. These men don’t want girlfriends; they want mothers, most of ‘em. I wish you could be my boyfriend…”

“You do? You seem too young… I’m sure I have socks older than you, pretty thing. What would you even do with an older man like me? hm?”

“Well, the first thing I would do is… kiss those lips of yours. You like kissing, Dr. Black?”

“Oh, I love it. I’d uh… I’d give you kisses all over… if I could.”

You could see Dr. Black adjusting himself, his stripped pajama pants getting tighter around his crotch. The fabric stretched as much as it could to contain his insane package, but in the end, he had to yank his pants down just a bit, releasing some of the tension the fabric was putting on his bulge. He hissed a sigh of relief after adjusting himself in his chair. A smirk never left his lips, just watching your body carefully, every curve to him was a magnet for his eyes. He loved your plumper shape, needed a woman with a little more meat on her bones. 

“You’d kiss me all over, Dr. Black? Where would you start?”

“Right there… on your titties… They’re so full… so gorgeous..”

You chuckled and pulled your jacket back, slowly releasing the strap of your bra on the left side. Your eyes stayed on Dr. Black, goosebumps appearing on your skin. You could tell he was breathing heavily from how his chest was rising and falling. You could sense something else was going on behind that camera; his left hand had disappeared from the frame. You heard the slick silk fabric of his pajama pants rustling from his touch. His hand had disappeared inside his pants. 

“Could you… Take your bra off, pretty please? Please, doll?”

“O-Okay, sure…”

“But, keep my-… your jacket on… it’ll look so sexy. Do it for me?”

Dr. Black slipped up, almost calling the Michael Jackson jacket his own. Almost giving away his “secret.”

You gently pushed the right bra strap off your shoulder. You used both of your hands to push your bra off your chest, allowing your breasts to pop out from the cups, one by one. Your breasts jiggled as the cups inside the bra lost their support. You held both of your breasts in your palms, massaging them slowly while staring at the man. He leaned in even closer, his left hand seemingly preoccupied with something. He groaned at the sight of them, subconsciously pouting his lips as if he were attempting to wrap his lips around your perky nipples.

“Wow… they’re so-… god..”

You seemed so close to him yet so far. He was still getting accustomed to this technology thing. He adjusted his camera, sloppily. Zooming his camera out and showing you his entire body. His shirt was very low-cut, showing off his bare, smooth chest. He leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs once again. He pushed those pajama pants down, slowly, analyzing those breasts. You knew he was watching you, very closely. You started to massage your breasts together, moaning deeply while you stared deeply at those aviator glasses. Wishing you were seeing those eyes. Dr. Black began to stroke his shaft, moving slowly at first. His groans grew louder, and his right hand started to move up towards his face. He hesitated at first, but used his index finger and thumb to pull his glasses off his face, finally getting a good look at you without the glasses dulling his view. 

“Are you… touching yourself, Dr. Black?”

“I am…. I’m imaginin’ I’m deep inside. Feelin’ your walls tightening around my shaft… makin’ you so… so wet. So filthy. You feel so good, sweetface.”

“Mm… I wish you were here bad. I’d love to make you cum. I’d love to taste it. I bet you taste so good.”

“You can. You’re so gorgeous, I’ll bet I could climax just starin’ at you. I’d give it all to you. You’re getting me so…worked up. Touch yourself for me. With me. Take off those naughty panties for Dr. Black.”

His deep and hypnotizing voice could convince you to get completely naked in front of this camera. Your arousal for this man built up, more and more. Those panties of yours stuck to your pussy lips like honey on skin. You leaned into the camera, adjusting the direction of the lens, to focus on that dripping pussy between your thighs. You slowly peeled your panties off, lifting your leg, flaunting your thick thighs to Dr. Black, teasing him, and it was working. He pushed his pajama pants down, off his hips, rolling his back slowly in his chair, watching you.

“Show Dr. Black those panties, please? Bring it up to the camera. Show me how wet they are, princess”

Your skin was completely flushed. You absent-mindedly nodded at his request. You leaned in closer to the camera, holding your lace panties in your hand, and the computer monitor’s screen allowed the wetness to be illuminated. Dr. Black moans at the sight, puckering his lips once again. He was imagining the sweet taste, just yearning to lick your mess off those panties.

“Now, rub yourself… nice and slow… Just like that, baby. Sounds so eager for me.”

“Mmm… Yeah… She wants you s’ bad, Dr. Black. I want you. So bad.”

“Show me how much she wants me, pretty baby..”

You nodded slowly, spreading your legs as you reclined back in the chair. Your shaky hands found themselves gliding down your abdomen, your hand landing right against your clitoris. Your middle and ring fingers began to slowly rub your slick flesh. Your fingers moved in a tight circle around your clit, and Dr. Black groaned at the sight. He began stroking his long shaft. He brought his big hand up to his mouth, spitting his hot saliva into his palm. He stared deep into your eyes, allowing his spit to messily drip out of his mouth. The strings of his saliva landed on his thick and rounded tip, making him continue with his faster, more deliberate strokes.

“Oh, you’re… You’re perfect…. keep it up, princess. Make an adorable mess all over your chair.”

Your middle finger moves faster, circling the area above your clit, making you arch your back into your touch. You could hear the sleazy noises on the other side of the monitor from Dr. Black. His deep groans and the loud slapping of his balls hitting his thighs while stroking with his large palm, up and down. His legs spread, allowing you to take in every inch of his deviancy. Not wanting to hide anything from you. His head rolled back, imagining your tight, gushy pussy, milking him steadily.

“Angle your camera down a bit. Let me see her better. See her open up… see how bad she wants me..”

He wasn’t shy about being assertive with you over this camera. With this internet pseudonym, Michael became a different person. More dominant, more bossy. More demanding. You quickly angled your camera just as you asked, spreading your pussy lips so he could see just how much you opened up just from talking to him. A pool of your wetness collected below your hole.

“God, you’re sexy. Dr. Black is going to pay you handsomely for this. Wouldn’t you like that? You deserve it. Go ahead and slowly enter yourself with just the tips of your fingers. Just the tips for now.”

“Mm-… yes, daddy.”

Dr. Black reacted physically to your calling him that. He had never been called such a thing before. His head tilted back, beginning to massage just his thick and glossy tip, watching you use just the tip of your fingers. Imagining that it was his cock, inside you, not those fingers gettin’ all messy. It should be him getting messy, filthy for you. 

“I'm shocked... dirty girl, callin’ me daddy. Where’d you learn to talk like that? You need to be punished talkin’ like that.”

“I’d love for you to punish me. I need you to get behind me, grab me by my hips, and force yourself inside me. Make me your good girl, Dr. Black.” 

“Lord knows I will. I just need to get my hands on your precious body… keep on usin' me. Faster. Please don’t stop. She sounds like she’s close to cummin.’ She wants to cum doesn’t she?”

“Yes, Yes. God your so big. You’re stretchin’ me out so bad… Fuck, Michael.”

You slipped up calling Dr. Black, Michael. A spur-of-the-moment made you see through his alias. He was pleased you still could tell it was really him, nodding to himself. He pouted his lips, feeling himself reach his edge, thrusting his lean hips up into his large palms. He groaned out loudly, listening to the sloppy and wet noises your pussy was giving to him. 

Finally, you pushed your fingers in as deep as they could, moaning and whimpering into the air. You tilted your head back, the sudden jolt from your body made your breasts jump, right into the camera. Dr. Black could see your naughty hole, leaking out that thick and hot cream, he so desperately wanted to see and taste. 

“F-Fuh… baby, here it comes… take it… take- hoh-…”

He was cut off with one last heavy thrust into both of his palms, his thick cum spurting in heavy strings from his thick tip. You could see his length pulse and throb from his intense stimulation, just by watching you. He let out a sigh of relief, still man-spreading on camera. His tip was leaking out onto the floor, palms and chest were covered in his potent, thick cum. He deeply chuckled a bit at his own mess, as did you. Faint chuckles escaped your lips at how long it took him to shift his attention back to reality.

“Hah-.., I’ve made such a mess... You’re laughin’ at me. huh? You like the sight of this?”

Michael chuckled and shook his head at his own lewd mess he had made. All over himself. He covered his face in embarrassment and reached forward, grabbing a white towel, wiping himself off.

“I’m sorry. God, you musta really needed that… It’s cute. You gonna call me again soon?”

“I did... But of course I will. I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you want to talk or need someone to talk to… I’ll be there, sweetness. Until then, how does five hundred sound for tonight? Just for your troubles..”

“I-… I can’t accept that..”

“You can and will. A pretty thing like you needs compensation. So when I call, you had better answer me.”

“I’ll answer you. Promise.”

The grating bright lights from the studio beamed down on your skin; it felt like you were being cooked alive. There was a ringing in your ears. Your temple is pounding with a searing headache from this interview. In truth, you were nervous. These questions were incredibly intrusive, making you devastatingly uncomfortable. You could only imagine how your husband felt. Most of the questions are targeted towards his recent activities. You despised being here, sitting in this chair while being grilled not only by these harsh stage lights, but also by your interviewer, Barbara Walter. This entire menagerie felt like a circus; you and Michael were put on display. It felt like a scripted performance; none of it felt real. Not only was your skin on fire, but your blood. Boiling from these difficult questions. With each passing moment, your blood pressure rose, and every muscle tensed. That was until you felt the warm and bittersweet touch from your husband. He could pick up on your energy fairly quickly. He felt you needed to keep yourself collected for this trivial interview. His touch felt like a miracle, cooling you off from how hot and pressured you were feeling. He knew you were scared. He could just…sense it. He couldn’t have you scared; journalists can smell fear. 

He made sure not to avert his concentrated gaze from Barbara, or else the attention would be shifted to you. He made sure that you would be spared in this interview. Your brain finally caught up to the conversation after feeling the grounding touch from Michael, taking a breath. Barbara directs a question at you, Michael twisting his torso in his chair, his military jacket and rhinestones making a slight crunching noise from his sudden movement. 

“Are you two intimate? Do you both have separate bedrooms? As you might remember, there were serious rumors of Michael being homosexual in his younger years. Your fans would like for you to truly, put those speculations to rest. What do you say, Mrs. Jackson?”

Michael licks his lips in anticipation of your answer, gently nudging your knee with his own hand. His hand instinctively palmed your thigh as a reminder of his touch. How he would touch you while you two were intimate. Slyly giving you flashbacks. He carefully leaned in, getting ready to speak up before you could, trying to protect your privacy. His light and weightless voice rises above the silence after her question. “Um, Barbara, I don’t remember circling that question. Do you-.. Are you comfortable answering this, Mrs. Jackson?”

“It’s fine, Michael. Well, Barbara, if it is the FANS that would like to know if Michael and I are intimate, I will say this: Michael is a grown man. He loves women…he appreciates women… he respects women. I can assure you that Michael is not a homosexual; he makes love to me regularly. Even if he was, what would it matter? If that is what the FANS would like to know. What we do behind closed doors has nothing to do with his music. So focus on what really matters. Not…that.”

“I can see that you feel very strongly about this. Do you get tired of Michael’s constant controversies?”

You’ve been waiting for this question all day. Ever since you perched yourself in this chair. “Yes, Barbara, Michael and I are very tired. It’s hard because he tries to do so much good for people, donating to charities on his off days, visiting children in hospitals… but it goes unnoticed; only the awful things that the press puts out. It’s tiring.”

Michael shifts his hips in his seat, the sound of his rhinestones crunching, the noise being picked up in his mic that was taped to his chest. He felt satisfied with your answer, a half smile slowly surfacing across his lips while keeping his hand on your thigh. A light squeeze was felt, a deliberate signal for a “well done.” He spoke up once more, turning his torso back into its neutral position, so he could face Barbara. “Exactly. That’s exactly right. It is very tiring.”

“Okay, fair enough. We are about out of time here in the studio today. Michael, is there anything you would like to end tonight off with? Anything you would like to tell your fans? Something for your fans to take away from this interview?”

At the time of this final question, Michael took a quick sip from his glass of now lukewarm water. The water, slightly heated by the harsh and grating lights. He cleared his throat and rubbed the palms of his hands against his knees, preparing for something meaningful and grandiose to say. You would turn your irked gaze back towards Michael. Just the view of his genial exterior made your face soften.

“I-…Yes…I would like to tell my fans to not believe everything you hear…really pay attention to what is in front of you. Or else you’ll miss something very important. And don’t let people convince you that you’re something you’re not. Stay true to yourself.” You would nod as Michael spoke, he always knew just what to say at certain points of pressure. You truly admired how he remained calm even while people were actively trying to attack his character and destroy his reputation. 

“Very insightful. Thank you, Michael and Mrs. Jackson, for your time here today. We here at the studio appreciate you coming down and speaking with us tonight. And thank you, viewers, for watching. I am Barbara Walters, and this was Barbara and the newlyweds. See you next time.”

The cameraman behind the camera signaled to Barbara that the cameras had stopped rolling. She tugged at her skirt, yanking the fabric down as she slowly stood from her chair. To you and Michael, while you two were taking a well-deserved breath, she offered her hand out to both of you. 

“Again, thank you for coming. Thank you both. Hopefully this is not goodbye. I hope to see you both again soon.” You walked right past Barbara, massaging your temple. Michael glanced at you with a nervous smile. He understood why you walked away from her, but he could tell this would be a problem when we both got home.

————————————————————————————————————————————

The car ride home was long. Painful. Painful because of the searing headache you were still experiencing. The soft music in the background was the only thing filling the silence between you and Michael. That, and the low rumbling of the car against the pavement. Both of you still needed time to decompress and wrap your heads around that shitstorm of an interview. You were sitting across from Michael in the limousine, resting your head in your hands. He’s never seen you so zoned out. So focused on your own thoughts. He could tell you needed some time to be reserved. You both entered the home, still on edge. The air was thick between you two. Heavy. You needed a stiff drink and an Advil just to get rid of this agonizing strain on your skull. Michael followed behind you, quietly, seemingly needing you near so he could decompress.

He took off his military-esque jacket, which he wore as a way to promote his HIStory tour that was at its final stretch, throwing it on the nearest couch. You had already sauntered yourself to the kitchen, your body sluggishly resting itself against the counter. A brief remedy for your prolonged exhaustion. You poured yourself some dark liquor, as that was all Michael had in the cabinet. His brothers drinking any other possible choice in his selection. You opened the container of Advil, screwing open the top and shaking out the remaining two pills that were left. You allowed the tablets to fall into your palm, throwing them back to the head, the half-full glass of liquor following suit. Michael found his way to you, meandering into your space. His hands found your hips, gently rubbing them. His large and focused hands massaged your curvy sides. Your lips omitted gentle and hushed groans that escaped from the back of your throat, a sound that meant relief was finally melting over you from a nagging pain. Michael validated your groaning, leaning in closer to you, burrowing his face in your neck, still holding you from behind.”

“I know… It’s okay. I got you.”

He whispered against your neck. His breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, making them stand on end. His real voice was one of low and urbane nature. You could smell his skin, rich and woodsy. The faintest scent of Beurgemont invaded your nose. His calculated touch kept massaging your tense hips, moving those palms in a deep, circular motion. Soft groans escaped the back of Michael’s throat as he kneaded your body. His elegant fingers running themselves up your sides, manipulating your body to press firmly against his. His head slung down to plant fluttering kisses against the back of your neck. They were so soft, you instinctively closed your eyes. Trying to focus on feeling them more deeply.

“Look, can I help you? I’m trying to drink here.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… You did a good job, baby. I can tell you really spoke from your heart.”

“I had to. I would have said more. Y’know I can’t stand Barbara. Some points I was seein’ red.”

“I know, baby. We can’t let them see that side of us, though. You know that..” You could feel Michael’s kisses becoming deeper, heavier. His lips lingered more against your flesh, just groaning at your delectable scent. He gently pulled his hands off of your hips, intertwining his fingers, lazily with yours. You felt the pull of his hand behind your back. Those feathery lips of his pressing on your knuckles. Those kisses moved up further on your arm, gentle pecks were littered over it. His voice began to rise above the silence again, the air not so heavy as it was before. 

“Can you tell how much I wanted to kiss you?”

“Michael, I’m just… really tired…”

“I’m tired too, but never too tired for you.” He chuckled breathlessly against the side of your neck. He had let go of your hand, hesitating. His bottom lip grazed against your ear as he spoke. Pressing himself firmly against your ass, letting you feel his growing love for you inside his pants. The tempting tent that was forming made you raise an eyebrow.

“You feel…? It really doesn’t take me much… just bein’ close…”

“C’mon, Michael, go on ‘na. I’m not in the mood. That was a very irritating interview for us… I just need-..”

Michael interjects, cutting you off, pressing his large hand on your lower abdomen, simulating what he does to you while he’s deep inside, pressing down on your tummy to make you feel him inside you better.

“I know whatchu need. I just wanna give that to you. You did so good f’ me out there. Just wanna show you I’m proud. Please?”

His focused kisses against your neck never ceased as he spoke. His lips began lapping at your skin, dying to taste you. His lips clung to your neck, proceeding to suck your flesh between his teeth and lips. Small pink declarations of his lust for you appeared across your neck and jawline. Still lazily thrusting himself against your body, slowly pulling up your skin-tight skirt in the process.

“Mike-.. I have a headache. I’m really not for the games tonight.”

“C’mon, I’ll make you feel better. And my desire for you is no game; you looked so sexy defendin’ me, Mrs. Jackson…”

He carefully grabbed your jaw closer to his face, needing to at least feel your faint breathing against his face. His large palm covered the bottom half of your face as he gripped you closely. His nose weakly traced against your own, his own lips circling around your plump, pouty bottom lip. He gradually inched into your lips, opening his mouth upon kissing you. His kiss was at first gentle and cautious pecks. Checking if you’d pull away. Once he knew he had you, he caressed your jaw in the kiss, moaning at the taste of your lips. He pulls away from your lips, staring into your eyes, still holding your jaw in his hand. 

His long fingers teased at the hem of your skirt, lazily pushing it down with light force. The fabric colliding with the marble floor, a soft thud could be heard as the material fell. 

“Are you and Michael intimate? Do you share separate rooms? What do you think, Mrs. Jackson?”

Michael puts on a goofy voice, mocking Barbara and her ridiculous questions. You couldn’t help but throw your head back in a hearty giggle. 

The sound emerged from the back of your throat, a sign that you needed that laugh so bad. He knew that.

“I can assure you, Michael fucks me like the slut I am. Is that a good enough answer for you, Barb?”

“Mm.. is that right, Mrs. Jackson? Say that again. I don't think I heard you right..”

Michael swiftly lifts you; a soft grunt slips from his lips as he does so. He pushes the glass of liquor to the side, making you sit in its place on the counter. His hands found their way around the lining of your panties, gradually yanking them all the way off your thighs. He picked them up, letting the lace surround his fingertips. His eyes marveled at the lovely fabric, slowly inching those panties up to his nose, holding them in his palm. He took a deep inhale of your smell, moaning lustfully at your scent. “Missed this-..”

“Michael, you’re such a perv.”

You teased and gently shoved him by his shoulder; a slight guffaw escaped his lips. “And you love every bit of it. Why else would you protect me so much earlier? Hm?”

“touchè… continue..”

He placed those panties on the counter, laying them right next to your palm. His lips clashed against yours once again without any warning, this time. His sloppy tongue found yours, worming its way into your own hot mouth. His moans and desperate whines grew louder, his bulge thrusted against your now bare pussy. A warning to unbuckle his belt for him while his hands were busy holding you. You got the message, fidgeting at his buckle, the soft metallic noises of his belt excited you. It was the sexiest sound. 

His zipper was next, carefully pushing it down. His pants fell around his ankles into a soft thud. His hands found their way to his boxer briefs, pushing them down briskly. You could hear the heavy breaths of his, his heart banging against his sternum, as was yours. Your hand grabbed onto his girthy cock, pulling him closer to you by his hard flesh. Your hand shot up to your lips, spitting twice into your palm, using your saliva as lube for you both, not that you needed it at this point. Your hand found his dick once more, stroking it firmly, staring deep into his eyes. His soft groans filled the kitchen while his large Bambi eyes never left yours. “You make me out to be such a pervert. But you’re just as bad as I am. You know it.”

“I don’t know, Mike… I don’t recall ever sniffin’ your panties.”

Michael slowly pulled your hand away from his aching rod, slowly shuffling himself closer, teasing your tight hole with his own slippery tip. His hips made his cock inch inside; gradually, the pressure got heavier and heavier.

“You’re perverted in other ways…like how you call out to God when I get deep. He isn’t gonna save you from me, lovely.”

You opened your mouth in shock at how he was fillin’ you. Your hand shot up to your mouth, covering it. You whimpered out into your palm, nodding softly. The nod was reassuring yourself that you needed this. Badly. His lips found themselves against your neck once again as he thrusted, slow…real slow inside your tight cunt. His flesh being milked and coaxed from you. His deep and needy groans filled the kitchen as his fingers dug into your thighs, causing deep red marks to appear on your skin from his demanding touch. He kept pulling your body closely to his own, making you feel him, really feel him hitting your spot. 

His hands moved back to your hips, holding you in place. The sheer force of his thrusts made your body jolt and flinch. Small droplets of sweat materialized on Michael’s forehead. Your arms reached forward to hold onto him, holding him tenderly resting onto his shoulders. While your hands were up and out of the way, his own hand relocated to rest in between your legs, and his hand gently pushed your legs apart. You felt that familiar touch, his thumb moving in a focused circle on the space above your clit, taking care of your slick button. 

“Ooh… Mi-Michael… You-… gonna make me cum… don’t stop. Don’t you dare.”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on stoppin’, baby. Take it…”

His thrusts grew deeper, harder; you could feel his thick cock head kissing your sensitive spot roughly. Your eyes would roll to the back of your head as he kept that thick thumb above your clit. The pressure was beginning to be too much for you to handle; you tried to stick it out longer, to no avail. 

“F-ah… Wait-Wait-… I’m close… Stop. S-..

“Nuh uh, come on. Give in to me..”

You whimpered out loudly, falling apart onto Michael’s shoulder, convulsing from your orgasm. Your head slung down into the crook of his neck, groaning softly. He gave your forehead a passionate kiss. Holding his lips there for what felt like a minute. His hips reeled back, gently pulling out of your slick, sticky pussy. A slight popping noise audible in the quiet kitchen. 

“I bet that headache gone, huh? Came so quick this time…”

“Yeah, Michael. T-Thank you.”

Valentine’s Day. 1983. Michael was so new to this kind of thing. A real relationship. With a really beautiful woman, you made him incredibly nervous. His palms would get all cold and clammy. His usual high-pitched voice would deepen, just for you. He wanted to express you, prove to you that he could be suave, like the Old Hollywood men he’d watch in the Golden Age of Hollywood movies. Studying them so he would behave in a way you couldn’t ignore. Michael dressed up especially for you today, wanting to give you the very best for this special day. Wearing a fitted black tux that fit like a glove on him. An adorable red bow tie, adorned with red rhinestones, flat against his neck. He had his hairstylist make a house call for him, making sure his jeri curl was extra moisturized for you. Not a curl out of place. He wanted light to bounce perfectly off his coils. Those famous black loafers tied tightly on his feet, and those long white socks, the iconic combination of footwear you loved on him. Michael was sitting in the backseat of his Mercedes, Bill Bray in the driver’s seat, of course. Giving Michael a lecture on getting past second base. “Look here, Michael. You don’t have to feel pressured into doing anything. Nothin’. But, she might be expecting… something. I just don’t want you to be too surprised.”

“I know, Bill. I told her that when the time is right… It’ll happen. And I know it will. She’s so pretty.”

“Do you think today will be it? You two been three weeks apart, Michael. Been together five months. The poor girl might think you’re leading her on.”

“You really think so? Well, we can’t have that. Can we?”

“No, sir. I say, tell her how you feel. How much you been thinking about her. Then, see how she responds to that. You follow, son?”

“Yes, Bill. Thank you for the advice. You saved me a lot of time and confusion.”

“Don’t worry about it, Michael. She’s crazy about you. You got this. We’re here now. Go ahead.”

Michael took a deep breath, holding his palm to his chest. Every time he got dropped off at your house, he got goosebumps. His hands got sweaty, his mouth dry and cracked. His long fingers fumbled around for his peppermint-flavored Chapstick, unscrewing the top and firmly twisting it up out of the tube. He smeared it over his lips, pressing his lips together, moistening them once more. He pushed his hands back into his pockets, dropping the chapstick back in place, then reached to his left side, grabbing his bouquet of red roses for you. His steps were shaky, unsteady as was his breathing. He loosened up anyway he could, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck, popping the joints between his fingers; nothing really worked. He arrived at your front door, ringing the bell and waiting patiently to be met by you. His fingertips grazed against the petals of the rose, a nervous tic as he stood there. His weight shifted on his feet, his loafers shuffling across the concrete. Once you finally arrived at the door, you smoothed your dress, caressing any wrinkles that may be present. Your throat cleared itself before you released the locks from the door; the clicking caught Michael’s attention. He stopped shuffling his feet, standing at attention like he was in the military. A smile was plastered across his face as the door peeled back, revealing your curvy figure. You looked as if you were truly poured inside your dress. Michael didn’t even greet you for a minute. He just wanted to stare at you, quietly. You knew his ways at this point, so you let him, until he finally snapped out of his daze. 

“Hi, beautiful. I love that dress on you. You look so…sorry. I-.. got these roses for you.”

“Oh, Michael. They’re lovely, thank you.”

“Just like you. I have a fun evening planned for us this Valentine’s. I hope you like to dance as much as I do.”

“I love to dance, baby. What kind of dancing we gonna be doing?”

Michael grabbed your hand, gently pulling you close to his body. You let out a squeak in shock. His light voice emitted a cackle at how startled you were, always finding any excuse to catch you off guard. His lean body pressed up against your warm embrace. His large hand pressed against the back of your head, caressing your curls, twisting them around his fingertips. 

“How about I give you a preview? Something like this, just dancing closely. Really feeling each other… y’know? Feeling the electricity buzzing against our bodies. The warmth being an excuse to keep our bodies closer. You like how that sounds?”

“Of course, being close to you sounds… perfect. After these weeks without you… mmm… I’ve missed you.”

Michael gently pushed your head into the crook of his neck, allowing his woodsy Burberry cologne to flood your nose. You shamelessly took in a small whiff. He could feel the air filling from your nostrils, knowing what you were doing. He gently swayed with you, holding your hand in his, cheek to cheek now, dancing closely. 

“I’m here to show you just how much I missed you. I’ve been sulkin’ all week. Just missin’ my girl. C’mon, Bill’s waitin’ on us in the car. I got a new Mercedes, don’t you just love it?”

“I do, Michael, it’s so nice. You must’ve gotten it while you were out of town, hm?” Michael responds to you with a nod, his grin still plastered across his lips. He purposely held his hand out in front of him, a sign for you to go in front.

“Ladies first.” He said to you in a sing-song way. He snuck slick stares at your backside. Your lovely, round ass, completely poking out in your dress. Especially when you knelt to sit on the black leather seats. He wanted to remain a gentleman, immediately averting his eyes when he saw you turn your head to face him. Although he would want nothing more than to feel every curve of you against him. He still wanted to wait for the perfect moment to take you. 

Michael closed the door behind him after he sat in the backseat with you, resting his hands on his knees. He started another self-soothing technique for himself, rubbing his palms against the fabric of his tux, just staring forward, planning about how he was going to romance you this evening. Michael was entirely in his head; he didn’t even notice you scooting closer. Your hand nervously stretches closer to his, fingertips just barely touching. You could feel Michael’s nervousness, seeping through his pores. Sweat covered his forehead. He finally looked up to you, getting out of his own head. A warm smile came back, not the focused and zoned-out look he had so often. You finally spoke up, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “You look very handsome, Michael. Are you gonna tell me where we’re going? Why we had to dress so fancy?” 

“Sweetheart, I already told you over the phone. It’s a surprise. It’s a place that requires fancy dress attire. That’s all you need to know for now.”

“Fine… Well, are you at least allowed to tell me how your tour went?” Michael laughed at your sudden sassiness. Crossing his arms in a teasing manner. He nudged his elbow to yours, the bump of his elbow making you flinch and do it back to him. He kissed his teeth in annoyance upon hearing that response. “Don’t get fiesty, now. The tour went just fine. I was so sleepy all the time. I just wished you were there the whole time to see me up there. I wish I could have talked to you on the phone more. The time zones were just-..”

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now. No more of you wishing things were different.”

“But, I do wish things were different.”

“I know, Michael. But it’s okay.. trust me.”

“Okay. Tell me how school’s been going? Still on the honor roll, smart girl?”

“Mhm.. You know it. Studying is hell. I wish we could switch places and I get up on stage.”

Michael exhaled through his nose, a subtle breathy laugh. He looked at you from the corner of his eye, grabbing onto your hand as he shook his head. “I can assure you, you’d hate touring. But, I’d love to see you up there, sweetness. in those little outfits…” Michael’s mind went elsewhere, imagining you in skimpy outfits on stage, stroking his peachfuzz he had growing above his lip, thinking about the image. 

“Speaking of skimpy outfits…I may have something special for you later. When we got some alone time together.”

“Oh yeah?”

Bill teasingly looked over at the two of you from over his shoulder, really looking at Michael. He was right, you were expecting something from him tonight. Michael looked back at Bill from the corner of his eye, quickly averting his gaze back to you.

“I’m excited to see what you have in store for me, baby.” As soon as Michael uttered that to you, Bill parked the Mercedes in front of a large and grandiose building. You pressed your face up to the window, reading the sign written on it. 

“Is that the new rhythm and blues restaurant? You got us in?!”

“Absolutely, I thought it would be romantic. An excuse to get close to each other after being apart for so long.”

“Oh, Michael, I’m so excited. C’mon!”

Bill Bray had already gotten out of the car before either of you even touched the door handle. He made his way around the Mercedes, moving briskly to get the door open for both of you to exit. When Bill opened Michael’s door, he stepped out, holding his hand out for yours. You grabbed onto his hand, pulling yourself up to your feet to stand right beside him. He gingerly put his arm around the back of your neck as you two strolled up towards the front door. Bill Brayed stayed close behind you both, following you into the establishment. You both made it inside, soft and slow RnB music played above your heads on the speakers. Mostly love songs for this important day for lovers. Michael started to feel the music immediately. Shuffling his feet across the floor. His loafers effortlessly slid across the wood floors, smirking at his own inability to stop dancing. Even on his off days, he had to. It was like a drug to him. But you loved him for it. You started to realize something as you were walking, though. You had literally entered a restaurant with THE Michael Jackson. People should be rushing up to you both and bombarding him with autographs and pictures.

“Michael, baby? Where is everyone? Why is it so empty?” 

“I bought the restaurant out for the evening… just for us two. To dance as close as we want. C’mon, let’s meet with the owner.”

Bill stayed behind, right by the door, sitting at the table closest to the exit, keeping it secure. You both walked up to the front counter, meeting with the owner. He shook both of your hands, greeting himself, then requested Michael for a photo to put on the celebrity wall. He got his photo, then escorted you both to the VIP seating area, where the music was louder, easier to feel. Michael never let go of your hand, leading you up to the table, allowing you to sit down first. He sat across from you, resting his long arms across the table. The owner placed laminated menus in front of the two of you, allowing you to look over what you wanted. 

“What looks good to you, princess?”

“I’m afraid what looks good to me isn’t on the menu. You look fantastic under this light. I could just eat you up instead.”

His melodic voice conjures up a chuckle, pressing his large hand against his chest. His eyes shut from how hard he was chuckling at your sudden forwardness.

“You’re so cute. I think I’ll go for the Fried chicken and spicy mac and cheese. I’m famished tonight.”

“That does look good. I think I’ll just go for the Shrimp and Grits.”

Michael looked up at the owner, giving him a slight nod that you both have made your orders for the night. He smiled and nodded back to Michael, taking the menus from you both, swiftly.

“How about we go and head on that dance floor while we wait for our dinner, huh?”

You didn’t respond with words, but with a nod. Michael stood up first, holding his hand out to grab you close to him. After he pulled you up to your feet, he hooked his arm with yours, getting you on that lit-up floor finally. After all this time, you two finally felt like a real couple, on a date. You just felt… normal. “Only You” by the Commodores played softly as he placed his hands on your waist, feeling every curve against his large palm. He couldn’t help but caress your sides as you two started to sway closely. He reached down to grab your arms and place them on top of his shoulders, making you clasp your gentle hands around the back of his neck. You got closer, resting your head in the crook of his neck again, sighing softly against him.

“What’s wrong? Is that a sigh of relief?”

“Yes, Michael. I’m just… happy to be here with you… You went through all this trouble…”

“Baby, it was no trouble at all. You’re worth it. For dealing with me and my touring… you’ve stayed with me through all of it. This is my thank you to you.”

Your head leaned up to kiss Michael square on the cheek. You finally did, planting those juicy lips against his flesh. You could feel his cheeks begin to warm up in real time, his lip biting. Your kisses moved down to his neck, making him unleash a soft whimper that he attempted to cover up with a nervous laugh. He gently pushed you off of him, a close call of getting him too turned on. You didn’t like that he pushed you off, though. It was quite obvious that you wanted him badly, needed him badly after this long distance, but he wasn’t showing the same sentiment. 

“Gee, sorry for pushin’ you but… You were gettin’ me… riled up, baby”

“That was the idea, Michael, c’mon… let me kiss on that neck some more, baby. Please?”

“We have plenty of time for that later… I told you, I want it to be perfect. Just keep dancin’ for me. You were doing so well.”

Michael grabbed your hand and spun you around, watching your curls bounce as you were back in motion. A giggle seeped from your lips as he spun you, taking your mind off of him, totally pushing you off. But you knew why, he hated getting a hard-on in public. It was completely embarrassing to him. But you loved it, being the exact reason he had a large tent in his pants made it worth it every time. When Michael stopped spinning you, you stopped with your backside pressed up against his body. A complete accident, but you two went along with it, happily. Feeling your ass pressed up against his crotch. He bit his lip at this new, foreign friction you two were engaging in. He gripped your hips with a bit more force than usual. Sinking his fingertips into your thick hips. He made you roll your hips against his developing bulge, groaning very faintly at this stimulation. He was desperately trying to pull himself out of this dirty dancing, but it was too intoxicating. He made you roll your hips against his, his hips following suit. His hand traced up the curves of your back, feeling your skin against his fingers, making you bend your back just a bit into an arch. 

“You’re really good at dirty dancing; you definitely didn't learn this from me. Who taught you this?”

His tone sounded a bit put off. Maybe a sense of jealousy that he was learning this just now. Someone must have had this experience with you before, he thought in his mind.

“I taught myself. Never had the chance to do it with someone who loved to dance as much as I do…”

Michael sighs in relief that he seemingly was the first you were doing this with. He chuckled at his own territorial behavior. He spun you once again, making you face him this time. Michael focused on your big brown eyes, and yours never left his. The tension was increasing, feeling each other’s faint breathing, beginning to deepen the longer you two danced so sensually. It took you back to when you first met at Studio 54. 

“You want to see what I learned tourin’? I don’t do dirty dancin’ but… just watch this…”

He swayed with you even closer, if that was even possible. He bent his leg just a bit, gripping onto your back. His hand was resting against the area where your ass and lower back connected, making your crotch press against his thigh, rolling his knee up to stimulate that space in between your legs. You released a slight gasp of air, suddenly feeling Michael’s knee rolling against your sensitive spot. His eyes followed you, the bottom lip of his mouth disappearing as he bit on it. He was watching you sway against his knee, rolling it more. He wanted to see how needy you were exactly, so he knew just how to handle it later. 

“Oh, Mi-…Michael… that’s-.. actually very sexy…it’s turnin’ me on, if you can believe it.”

“Mmhm… I can tell. You started makin’ that face you always make when you get like that. Was it feelin’ good for you, mama?”

“Very good. Michael… I-..”

You were suddenly cut off by the owner coming back with your plates. He announced to you both, holding the large tray of food for you both to come back and enjoy. There was also a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses of still water. The owner laid out the plates of food, waiting for you both to come and sit.

“What were you gonna say, baby?”

“Nothin’ c’mon, let's go eat.”

You both approached the table, and Michael let go of your hand, allowing you to sit across from him once again. You both began to indulge in your delicious meals. You two occasionally started to sing to whatever was playing over the speakers. RnB had a soft spot for both of you. Not being able to ignore the sensual beats and suggestive lyrics. 

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable with that dancin’ back there. You were teasin’ me so I thought-..”

“Don’t worry, I enjoyed it. Quite a lot. It made me really want ya… You really know how to work my hips, Michael. I’ve never seen that side of you.”

“I could show you that side more often.. I just like to make sure the moment is right.”

You gave a nod to Michael, biting your lower lip. He adjusted his shades, feeling them shift from their previous spot sitting on the bridge of his nose. Michael reached down, picking up his spoon, scooping a bit of mac and cheese onto his spoon. While Michael was preparing himself for another bite of his spicy mac and cheese, you slipped your foot out of your black stiletto heel. Your pantyhose-covered foot reached up to Michael’s hard-on, grazing your toes against his thick bulge before he could take another bite. He dropped his spoon in shock and chuckled deeply, feeling your toes, teasing his shaft. You gently stroked his cock with your foot, making him groan and nervously look around the surrounding area. Making sure the owner was nowhere near your table. He reached his hands down, wrapping his hand around your foot, holding it in place. Right against his pulsing cock.

“God. You drive me crazy. You know what? You really want me to act out of character, don’t you?”

“Yes, Michael… I really do… I want you s’ bad. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.. I want to return the favor…”

“Bill was right-..”

Michael uttered very faintly, his voice hardly above a murmur. He remembered Bill’s advice from earlier that you may be especially horny for Michael today. Intense desire for stimulation because of how long it’s been.

“Whatcha say, lovey?”

“N-Nothin’… Nothin’”

Instead of you moving your foot, Michael did it for you. Holding it there by your heel, making you stroke his length firmly with your foot. He exhaled a soft chuckle, not thinking this would make him feel this good. The space between his legs started to get warmer, until you could feel that warmth transferring to your toes. The heat from his skin is absolutely coming through his fitted pants. He groaned a little louder, tilting his head back. Still holding your foot in his hand as he used it to satisfy himself in the middle of this restaurant. “I-.. want.. You too. Let’s get out of here. C’mon… get up.”

Michael stood up quickly, holding his hand out for you to hold. His hand dipped into his right pocket, pulling out a one-hundred-dollar bill, leaving it on the table as a tip. He held your hand tight in his palm, using his free hand to playfully land a smack on your ass. He headed towards the door, looking up at Bill sitting in the corner. Bill stood up from his seat, opening the door for you both. You could see Michael giving Bill a look. A look that indicated that it was on between you two. Once you two arrived at the car, Michael opened the door for you, scanning your ass closely as he watched you bend down to sit on the leather seats. Not daring to hide it this time. He planted himself right next to you in his seat, wasting no time to pull you up on his lap. His fingers found themselves inching up your thighs. His fingers danced against your legs, needing to know how every inch of you feels.  “Uh-… Bill? Can you raise the partition, please?” Bill nodded, a grin appearing across his lips. He raised the partition promptly, looking at the two of you getting comfortable. Michael’s lips found the nape of your neck, planting those soft, fluttery kisses. You could tell from how his kisses lingered that he was inhaling your scent every chance he got. 

“Mm.. You’re wearing that perfume I bought for you in London?"

“Mmhm.."

“That’s a good girl…you’re such a good listener, love that smell on you...” His palm grabbed the lower half of your face, holding your mouth so you don’t make too much noise. Also, keeping your neck tilted to the side gives him the access he needed. Your whines filled the backseat, biting on your bottom lip, a bit roughly. Your fingers found themselves preoccupied with the buttons and zipper of Michael’s fitted pants, fumbling with the stupid buttons. You groaned at the feeling of his hot and slick tongue warming you up even more. You wished that his tongue was deep, very deep somewhere else. Michael’s tongue fixated on your warm skin, suckling at your neck, finally tasting your skin. When you got the pants undone, you slipped your hands against his boxers, stroking over his shaft. You could feel a strong pulse against his girthy shaft, the feeling clearly felt against your palms. 

“mmm…” He whimpered against your neck, rolling his hips against your palms. He pulled away from your neck, needing his lips on yours. He licked his lips, moistening them before he fluttered his eyes shut, gripping your jaw in his hand. His lips clashed with yours while he stroked your cheek with his big thumb. His tongue wrestled with yours, sucking on his tongue. Your saliva mixed with each other’s, making a mess of spit. You and Michael’s chins got shiny from your aggressive makeout session, the moans growing louder in the backseat. You could hear a growl escaping Michael’s lips, becoming incredibly primal at this point. You both arrived at the hotel, which he booked for you both tonight. Bill parked the car right at the entrance while you two were still busy with each other, panting into each other’s mouths from kissing so deeply. 

Bill knew you two were busy in the back, so when he got out of the car, he knocked on the window so that you two could become decent once again. Michael pulled away from your lips, slowly. His eyes peeked down at his pants undone, buttoning them up once again. You both exited the car, hair messy, clothes disheveled. You both needed to feast on each other, get up in that hotel room. Michael jogged with you to the elevator. He already checked in, so you made a beeline for it. Once you two arrived inside, you two connected back together. His fingers found themselves twisting around your coils, pulling you close to his aching body. He stared down into your eyes, stroking your cheek tenderly.

“You havin’ a good Valentines so far, Michael?”

“Very much so. It looks like you missed me, just as much as I missed you.”

You would nod in agreement, hearing the elevator ding overhead, giving you the signal that you have reached your destination. The doors opened, and you both walked out of the elevator in the direction of the King suite Michael bought for you both tonight. You both jogged up to the door, laughing at yourselves for how badly you wanted to be on top of each other. You couldn’t keep your hands off Michael, constantly stroking his thigh, running your hands down to his supple ass, squeezing it in your palm. He jolted and flinched upon feeling your forceful touch. His hand reached back to playfully swat your fingers away from his ass, chuckling at the action.

“Babyyy… C’mon, let me unlock the door! You’re not lettin’ me focus.”

“Fineee. Hurry please. I need you so fucking bad….” Michael fumbled with the key to unlock the hotel room door, cursing under his breath at how hard it was to get doors open this way. 

“F-.. Hate these things.” When he finally swung open the door, he groaned in anticipation. He looked up at you once again, grabbing your hand through the expansive hotel room. The room was heavy with the scent of lavender, and rose petals littered the marble floors. There were bouquets of red and white roses resting on the dining room table, with an oversized Valentine’s Day card resting on top. Teddy Bears covered the main living area, all different colors of white, brown, purple, and pink. Michael also had a couple of bottles of your favorite champagne, resting on ice within a tin bucket. “You know I don’t drink that often, but… It’s a special occasion. I thought it would help us loosen up. Clearly, we don’t need it, do we?”

“All I need is you, Michael. I’m gonna go get into somethin’ more comfortable. You can go ahead and put some music on for us, ‘kay? We can do some dirty dancin’ of our own.” Michael gave you a meek smile and nodded, covering his mouth in shyness. He turned his body away from you, feeling his body start to vibrate in anxiety. He wanted to make you feel good tonight, make it a night to remember. He should be over the moon right now, but all he could feel was…unsure of himself. Maybe he needed some Champagne to loosen himself up. He walked around to the dining room again, yanking one of the ice-cold bottles from the bucket, grasping it in his palm. He rummaged around the silverware drawer for the damned bottle opener, knowing he should have had them open already. His hands were shaky, inattentive to the subject at hand. He finally got the bottle of champagne opened, not even pouring it into a glass, but drinking it straight from the bottle, wrapping his lips around it.

He took two long swigs of that sparkling drink, clearing his throat after feeling it burn from drinking so fast. The alcohol hit him after drinking for ten minutes, feeling more relaxed. He felt a bit calmer. He was in the mood to dance now, swaying his body to his song, “The Lady in My Life.” He did his signature move, moonwalking to the record player, setting the record on the needle. He moved the needle directly to that song on his album, perfectly starting it from that track. The soft cymbals of the drums filled the main living area as he swayed to his music. You finally walked out upon hearing this lovely song start to play. Michael’s voice was unmistakable; you knew it from anywhere. He stepped back, taking in your thick body. You walked out, wearing your deep red bra and panties. Red leg garters around your thick thighs. You walked out slowly to this beautiful song. Michael said nothing, letting his song speak for him. 

“Listen to my heart, lay your body close to mine, let me fill you with my dreams. I can make you feel alright.” Michael held his hand out to you, ushering you to him in front of the record player. He pulled you against his body, making your backside rest against his crotch once again. His elegant fingers traced themselves against the material of your leg garters, pulling at the elastic. He bit his lip, using one hand to hold your hip in place, making your hips roll in one particular spot.

“I hope you don’t mind, I had a bit to drink, I needed to… loosen up. Truth is, I’m very nervous. Scared.”

“Why are you scared, Baby?”

“It’s been my dream to make you feel good. You’re my destiny, I can feel it. I want to make you happy. Make you really desire me.”

“Let me show you just how much I desire you, Michael. If that’ll make you feel better?”

“Well-…I… o-okay.”

You got an idea in your head, smiling warmly to yourself. You pulled Michael by his hand, yanking him over to the loveseat. You pushed him down on his new seat, allowing him to just soak in your curvy frame. You got down on your knees in front of him, crawling to rest in between his legs. He reached up to stroke your cheek as you fiddled with his buttons, yanking his pants down. Letting the material pool around his ankles. Your head tilted up, allowing your hot, wet tongue to teasingly lap at the naughty wet stain on his underwear. His pre-cum seemed to have seeped into his boxer-briefs. You flicked your tongue against the sensitive area, listening to his deep whimpers. He covered his face in shyness, not wanting you to see him make these pathetic noises. Your hand wrapped about his girthy shaft, stroking over the fabric as you sucked the tip, still over the fabric.

“Please… stop teasin’… put your mouth on it. Actually, on it…You’re drivin’ me crazy, mama.”

You listened, yanking his underwear down, around his ankles. He hissed at the cool air, hitting his hot skin. His cock was rising in temperature. He was putty in your hands, still reaching out to touch you. To caress your face as your tongue landed back against his hard flesh. He nodded to himself upon feeling your warm breath hit him. You collected spit in your mouth, allowing it to finally release from your lip, landing on his shaft. Your mouth found his tip, that was until you bobbed your head slowly up and down. Finally tasting his sweet skin, you so desperately wanted. His hand never left your jawline, making you go up and down, slow. Real slow. He loved hearing the wetness of your warm mouth against him, the slight gagging noises you had omitted excited him. Your mouth enveloped his length, attempting to scale the entire length, ultimately gagging loudly from the sheer length of him. He groaned, hearing that noise that he loved. His thumb circled your cheek as a sign that you were doing perfectly.

You raised your head back up towards his tip, planting soft kisses against the very sensitive and hot head of his dick. He flinched and groaned from this teasing of yours. Your mouth went back to work upon hearing his sexy noises; his little voice was uttering. You spit loudly against his tip again, allowing the spit to drip down his aching cock. Each movement from you made it twitch in your direction. You started to stroke him off once more, staring deeply into his eyes, keeping his shaft pressed against your warm cheek, moaning at the feeling of his pulsing meat.

“Cum for me, Michael. Right on my tongue. Need to taste you.”

“Oh, lord. Here it-… it’s coming out-.. ah..” He whimpered against his hand, holding his palm close to his lips. He jerked his hips up into your palm, allowing his hot and thick semen to ooze right on top of your tongue, allowing you to taste. He jittered and convulsed from this release, right against your slick pink tongue. His forehead was soaked with sweat and Jeri Curl product.

He curled his lips into that duck lip that he does, reaching down to grab you and pull you up to his lap. His thin fingers pushed those panties off, spreading your legs rather roughly. Four of his fingers landed where he thought your clitoris was, instead on top of your mound. He didn’t seem to know exactly where it was, so you showed him. 

“You lookin’ for my clitoris?

“Y-Yeah. Is it that obvious?”

“It’s okay, I’ll show you.. It’s right… T- There… ah…There”

“Right here?” You responded with a nod, rolling your hips against his fingers. Your pussy started to react, producing a symphony of wet and lewd noises. Your hand remained right on top of his, feeling his fingers get creamy and slick from your honey getting soaked onto his knuckles. Your fingers massaged the tops of his fingers, feeling over the veins of his hand, as he began planting soft kisses against your neck. He moaned in your ear, teasing his bottom lip against your earlobe. He gently sucked and licked at your ear, sucking your skin between his lips. His finger stayed focused on your pulsing clit, thrusting his cock into your thigh, feeling like he could release from this stimulation alone. His fingers found your slick and creamy hole, starting with one finger, HIs middle finger, allowing the slight pressure to come. His finger was sucked in immediately, your pussy behaving so well to his touch. He thrusted his thin finger deep inside you, curling it right against your spot.

“Mm-… how does that feel? I’m doin’ it right?”

“That’s perfect, baby. Nice and steady.” He nodded to himself, adding another finger inside, stretching you out some more, preparing you for more to come. He kept the steady motion, allowing his fingers to just sit inside you at some points, just so you felt full. Your hand reached down, helping yourself in this stimulation, rubbing your own clit while Michael kept a steady pace with his fingers, moving just a tic faster. His rhymn kept with his song in the background, not missing a beat. The stimulation of your own fingertips circling your clit, Michael fucking you with his deliberate fingers, you couldn’t take it. 

“So wet. You’re so-… slick… Take it. Take it.”

You moaned increasingly loudly, a sign that you were. He was right. Michael reached up with his free hand to pull your bra down from your chest, releasing your breasts from the bra cups. Watching them lie against your soft skin. This image only made his fingers slam faster. Going all the way down to where his palm met with your mound. His lips found their way around the side of your breasts, suckling them from the sides at first. His hand palmed your breast, pulling it gently up to his lips, sucking at your nipple, lapping at his own saliva, tasting your flesh against his buds. He slowly pulled his fingers out of your tight hole, reaching down, replacing his fingers with his thick and lengthy cock. He gently grabbed you by your sides, holding you up, slowly sliding you back down on his dick, making you open up. He whimpered against your breast, having to pull away from it. His large and controlling hand found the side of your jaw, making you tilt your head to his lips, and his mouth connected with yours. 

“I need you.. I need you… I love you. All mine..”

“I… love you too... Oh, god. Michael..”

He sucked your tongue, sucking off his own essence from earlier, moaning at the taste of your mouth. He rolled his hips into your pussy, making you feel every inch, going deeper. One hand of his rested on your jaw, the other on your hip, keeping control and deep thrusts. The sounds of your skin slapping against each other, sweat keeping your bodies stuck to each other. The slickness of your pussy made the friction of his dick easier to go quickly in… then out. He felt himself reaching his edge, trying to pull you off of him, so he wouldn’t finish inside. You grabbed his hand, stopping him from doing anything of the sort, feeling yourself reaching it as well.

“Baby, I’m about ta… oh God…”

“I know, but don’t stop. Don’t you dare. I’m sorry… I’m sorry. Please just keep going.”

“I’m sorry… for finishin’ so… fast… You’re so perfect. God, I’m gonna make you my wife..” You gasped loudly, grabbing onto your breasts, feeling his thrusts speed up inside you. He gripped you harder, his fingers burrowing themselves in your flesh. He carried you to your hilt, listening to your sloppy wet noises, until… You felt it. His warm and thick cum, invading your pussy hole. You tilted your head back, groaning at the feeling, climaxing along with him. He felt your thick and creamy mess melt all down his thighs, dripping down to his empty, perfect balls. You both sighed in relief, collapsing right on top of him. While you were decoimpressing, you could hear whimpers; the whimpers turned to sobs. His waterline began to be swollen with tears. His long lashes stuck together from the tears, clumping up. 

“Michael? Baby? You okay? Aw, honey..” He sniffled and reached up, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tux, nodding his head at your question. He couldn’t believe he broke down in front of you, collecting himself once again.

“Mhm… You just made me feel so good. In so many ways… They’re happy tears… Promise.” He said in a soft whine. His voice almost regressed back to a young boy, sounding as if he had just gotten in trouble. His red cheeks were suddenly caressed by your palm, wiping away the single tear that rolled down his face.

“It’s okay, baby. I feel the very same. I love you so much, Mikey. How about we go get all clean, then we can watch Charlie Chaplin. Would you like that?”

“Absolutely. That sounds perfect...”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Michael.”

He told you he was coming to get you, remember?

Jackie staggered out of his bedroom; his head was still foggy from his drunken state earlier. All he had on his mind was where you could be, and that Michael was yards away from you. Knowing that he wanted you all to himself. “Mike… my girl… where…”

The aroma of barbecue chicken, hot dogs, and fried fish filled the outside air. The album release party was in full swing and was a great success. Michael’s Off The Wall album was still playing overhead on the speakers as the family danced closely, drank excessively, and indulged in the fried food. All of the family were enjoying themselves, especially you and Mike. Jackie stumbled past some of his family members, trying to sober up the best he could before he got to you, just as you asked. Jackie found himself stumbling back down the stairs of the large Havenhurst mansion. His muttering and rambling filled the space as he sauntered down the stairs. Finally, after moving in what seemed like slow motion, he arrived at the loud backyard. Sliding the glass door briskly behind him, he reached the loud pool, with kids jumping in the water, raucous laughter, and the heavy smoke from the grill filling the air. Jackie’s elbow bumped the shoulder of Marlon, getting his attention while he was scarfing down a hot dog. “Marl? Where my lady? It’s been an hour and she ain’t came up to me yet.”

“I dunno, Jack. Ask ‘Toya. That’s her best friend or somethin’. Ain’t it?”

Jackie shook his head in anger, not finding Marlon’s sarcasm helpful at all. He ended up finally making his way over to Latoya, where he should have gone in the first place. She was soaking up the sun, holding a sunbathing reflector to get an even tan. She had her large glasses on, eyes closed, until she felt a figure covering her sunlight. She rose her head up, nudging her glasses up to her forehead with her forefinger and tilted her head back, being faced with Jackie’s large and intimidating frame. “Oh.. hey, Jackie. You feeling better? You seemed a little out of it earlier. You okay?”

“Yeah-… yeah I’m… Look, where my woman go ‘Toya? She and Mike… where they go? Tell me, na. I don’t got time for this.”

“Hmm-… oh! When we were playing Marco Polo, he stopped playing all of a sudden, said he was sorry, and then she ran after him. I think they went into the pool house.”

“The pool house!? You let my woman go into the pool house with Mike?! Dammit!”

Jackie gained a little speed in his walk. Knowing what that could possibly mean. The two of you alone, it only accelerated his heartbeat in fear. His blood pressure rose as he huffed large volumes of air through his mouth and nose. He felt all the blood rushing back up into his head, seemingly sobering himself up pretty quickly in this moment. He was already bracing himself to walk in on his little brother completely defiling your body. Jackie arrived at the pool house, his heart nearly escaping his chest. He already knew you were as good as Michael’s if you even decided to follow him inside the pool house.

Jackie placed his ear against the door, listening to the slight shuffling, fabric ruffling, occasional mutters, and lastly, the frequent moans. He clutched the handle of the door, slowly pushing it open, allowing it to slowly give way. The more the door opened, the louder the moans and groans amplified.

Jackie laid his eyes on Michael from the back, staring as he would grind his aching bulge into the cot while he helped you ride out your powerful orgasm on his tongue and fingers.

Jackie stared at the two of you together, eyes wider than flying saucers. He couldn’t help but notice the technique Mike was using. Jackie could have sworn he taught Michael all of those tricks. He taught Michael how important it was to focus on the clitoris. Michael remembered Jackie’s own words, “Fingerin’ helps in a chick’s climax, but that love button… that’s what’ll make her see stars. I’m tellin’ you.” Michael heeded his advice, penetrating your slick hole with his elegant fingers, while sucking that lovely clit between his two shiny lips. Jackie didn’t even announce himself, just analyzing you two. Your bodies became one, and he hated to admit it, but it was hypnotizing. Michael made you reach an ascension you didn’t think was possible. It was positively addictive. You and Michael looked as if you were made for each other in that moment. Couldn’t be more perfect. So, Jackie couldn’t even be mad at Mike for making his woman feel so good.

He felt so bad for doing so, but he started stroking himself over his shorts. He bit down hard on his lips, leaning up against the wall, and keeping himself quiet. The slight rustling sound of his fabric grew a bit more intense as he stroked off his bulge, staring at you lying there. Your moans seemed to cover up any noises his fabric was making. At this point, Jackie couldn’t stand it, and he had to make himself known before Michael was able to thrust himself inside, making it official. That you were claimed. At least he was here to watch this very special moment. When Jackie crept closer inside the room, he collected himself, threw his shoulders back, exclaiming towards you two. “What the fuck? Mike!” Michael quickly turned his head to look over his shoulder, knowing it was Jackie behind him.

He smirked to himself, knowing he finally won and this “battle” of the girl being his. He knew it, and Jackie knew it. Michael didn’t even seem embarrassed; if anything, he seemed proud of himself, cool and collected. Not at all hot in the face as you were. You grabbed one of the pool towels on the cot and covered yourself up, essentially vibrating in fear of being caught this way. “Jackie! Jackie, baby! This isn’t what it looks like, we just-…”

You proclaimed this wasn’t what it was, but Michael rolled his eyes. He didn’t care to hear your desperate pleas about you absolutely NOT cheating on Jackie. It honestly was insulting to Michael, and he would tell the whole neighborhood about this infidelity if he could. Michael put his index finger up to your mouth, placing it firmly against your juicy lips. He didn’t seem scared at all in calling it what it was. Michael stole you from Jackie, fair and square. “Don’t lie, princess. Lying makes it worse. We’re caught..”

Michael stays cemented in his spot, just holding himself up on top of you. He glanced up at Jackie, looking him up and down. Jackie was walking hesitantly up to the two of you. It was as if he still hadn’t completely made up his mind about what he wanted to do with the two of you yet. His mind was blank, yet still completely crammed with having to wrap his head around this…mess. At the same time, he was still massaging his bulge. Slowly. The rubbing was assisting in running his train of thought, thinking about what he would do with you, seriously. Jackie got closer, the room was still very quiet, awaiting Jackie’s answer. Instead, he reached his hand out, slowly caressing your jaw.

He noticed slight hairs out of place, sticking to your forehead because of the sweaty state he caught you in. He graciously began tucking the wispy hairs behind your ear. The large hand of his slid its way down to your jaw, gripping onto it tightly. Forcing you to tilt your head up and look at him. Jackie searched for an answer in those adorable doe eyes of yours before he pulled you up to his lips, enveloping your plump lips in his. His grip around your jaw moved to your throat, holding you closely. His thick and wet tongue slithered its way into your mouth, fully invading your throat. His tongue collided with yours, roughly. He ultimately won his fight for dominance with you. You were immediately lost in his extremely lustful kiss. His grip around your throat grew tighter. You and Jackie were here. Together still. You even reached up to lay your hand against his warm cheek, grazing your fingertips against his stubble. You two escaped into your own world, that was, until his presence pulled away.

“I’m not mad at you, mama. Not too mad anyway. You said you wanted it bad, right? So, show us how bad you want it..” Michael couldn’t help but stare at the two of you. His mouth was half open, completely at a loss for words. He wasn’t expecting Jackie to kiss you with such passion. Michael was frozen with confusion, as you were as well. When you two pulled away, Michael just stared at Jackie in disbelief, although he still had a desire for you that needed to subside. He snapped out of his own thoughts after hearing Jackie’s last request to you. “I-It’s only right if you do it, beautiful. You gonna make me and Jackie proud, aren’t you?” 

“I-… Yes, uh… Yes Michael. Jackie? You’re just gonna… watch us?”

“What? Oh, don’t tell me you scared now? You wasn’t scared when you had Michael’s tongue deep in your pussy. This is your punishment. And Michael’s. Now, you two better put on a good show. Make it up to me.” Jackie explained to both you and Michael, standing right beside him.

“Okay, Jackie, we get it. Fine. You want to watch? I knew you were perverted like this. You can watch your girlfriend get stolen all over again. How does that sound? Hm?” Michael spoke to Jackie with such fire inside him. Only Jackie could do that to him. Michael’s eyes were laser-focused on Jackie and his next move, beginning to slowly stand up, seemingly preparing for a physical confrontation. You groaned in frustration; your chance of being thoroughly fucked was once again taken. You weren’t going to let it go, not this time. You grabbed Michael by his jaw, moaning at just the sight of his eyes on yours. You were still hungry, panting heavily from the throbbing need that was in between your legs. You interrupted the heated argument between him and his eldest brother as you still needed extra attention. “Mike, just focus on me. Please. I-I need you. You really got me goin’… I want you badly. Don’t you want me? Yeah?” 

“‘Course I do, but Jackie-.. He-..” 

“Don’t focus on Jackie… just on me… let him watch. We know he a perv, huh? Focus on our pleasure. Me and you… c’mon. Give it to me.”

“But-.. Princess…”

“God, Michael.” You pulled Michael down to your plump lips, forcing your tongue into his mouth. His large hand slid up to your cheek, caressing it as you two passionately kissed. Erasing the essence of Jackie’s saliva that was still strong with the taste of whiskey. That was all Michael needed, a little convincing from you. You could feel a smirk begin to stretch across his lips in the midst of your delicate kiss. He groaned against your lips in the kiss, getting back up on the cot once again. He mounted your lovely body, having to pull away to stare over you deeply, soaking in your beauty. “Gosh, I-… I’m ready, baby. You ready for me?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Oh, you his baby now!?”

“Shut up, Jackie! If you’re gonna be here, you’re gonna have to give us some quiet. Now watch, watch me satisfy MY woman.”

Michael grinned after his statement to Jackie. He peeked down at you with a smug look, holding himself up with his palm by the side of your head. His thumb on that hand had instinctively reached over, stroking your cheek as he slowly pushed his long, girthy cock deep inside. All he could do was bite his bottom lip, focused on your pleasure, just as you told him to. A light chuckle escaped his lips, one of relief, one of embarrassment as he felt a slight resistance from how tight you were.

“I think… I might be too big, huh? How about I try this?” As soon as Michael suggested to himself that he would be too big for you, he stared up at Jackie with a wide smile, almost rubbing it in with proof that he had the tools to satisfy you, perfectly. 

“Don’t get cute, Mike. Make her open up for you… You know what I taught you, huh?”

Michael looked down between your two connecting bodies. His mind went back to Jackie’s words, the memory staying burned inside his head. His other hand slowly inched down your thighs, feeling the slickness of your sweat. His thumb found your cute little button, once again circling your clit slowly. Your adorable whimpers began to fill the room with his needed touch. Your hips bucking in the direction of his focused touch, moaning in desire, needing more. “That feel good? She’s makin’ that sticky noise I like. It’s drivin’ me crazy..”

“Michael… c’mon… she’s ready for you. Try it now.” You purred. You said it so quietly, hardly above a whisper, even Jackie had to lean in to listen. It was intimate, just for Michael to hear. Your little hole wouldn’t accept his request to be inside at first, but after some coaxing, some gentle words, Michael was able to finally ease himself into you. Very slowly. Allowing those pretty sounds from your lips to escape. His hips moved precisely at first, keeping a steady pace. Matching the sound of your shaky breaths. He kept a hand on his hip, giving him some support as he thrusted his hips forward. Making you take every satisfying inch. 

“Gee, I just wanted to say I’m sorry I got us into this mess. Really, darlin’. I-I…couldn’t see you with Jackie no more. You’re just so lovely. Jackie has nothin’ in common with you. You were just a-… a piece ‘a ass to him. I’d take you… to museums… the theatre… things like that.” Michael begins to thrust a bit faster, quickening his technique. It appears the idea of you two going steady excited Michael even more. Courting you turned him on, spending his money on you, calling you his girlfriend, made his body go warm all over. His breathing got faster, heavier, searching for what you thought in your eyes. His brows furrowed in determination of making you his tonight, making Jackie a distant memory.

“I-Is that true, Jackie? I was just a lay to you? Huh? You weren’t gonna take me out, were you? S-speak up.” Michael’s thrusts began to get sloppy; your sweet and sticky hole was enticing him to completely come undone. Those thrusts caused almost every word to come out shaky and unstable. The cot started to rock, creaking noises erupted from underneath you two, and Michael heard nothing but your angelic whimpers for more. Not even Jackie’s voice could infiltrate his thoughts of you. The lewd slapping of your skin and Michael’s started to grow louder within the pool house. His thrusts were sloppy, yet confident. Knowing he had you now. Jackie was a horrible liar, and Michael knew that fact well. As you peeked your head up to get a look at Jackie, he was already staring at you, manspreading. He focused on you, your pleasure, mostly on those perfect tits of yours, bouncing rhythmically from those deep thrusts that were dealt to you. He began nodding at what Michael said about him.

“Yes, mama… You were. I can’t lie to you. I would have taken you out and all… but…then it’d be official. I needed to see how you’d be in the sack first before I… ya know..” Jackie’s statement only made you shake your head in irritation. Your eyes focused back on Michael as they should have been a long time ago. Michael’s eyes never left yours, even while you spoke to Jackie. Once you came back into your own little world with Michael, he smiled at you, almost innocently. As innocent as one could while currently in the act of making love. You reached up, caressing Michael’s cheek, starting to fuck yourself on his cock. You moved your hips with his, syncing up with his body.

“That’s it, baby… That’s it… she sounds so good… You’re so perfect.” Your back is arched forward, and soon, your fingers found themselves coiled within his afro once again. Michael’s Bambi eyes kept perfect eye contact with you, nodding at your satisfaction. His hips started to slow back down again, wanting to tease you just a bit, needing to ramp up your pleasure for a big finish. He used just his slick tip to slither its way in, then out. Listening to the sexy clicking noises your pussy had to offer. He was so lost in that noise, he wanted more. Need to get you wetter. He collected some saliva in his mouth before slowly sticking out his tongue, allowing the spit to slowly roll off the tip. The string of spit landed right against your pulsating clit. His elegant fingers went back to rubbing in a slow, calculated fashion. He bit his lip, listening to HIS pussy proudly speak to him. 

“kiss… m-..” You sounded so desperate, you couldn’t even talk underneath those beautiful moans. It sounded almost too good to be true, something out of a movie. Michael leaned, leaning his ear to you. Still biting on that bottom lip of his.

“What’s that, sweetheart? Use your words for me. Tell me exactly what you want.” 

“Better yet… I’ll show you, I-I’ll show…” You interrupted yourself by kissing him. Deeply. He held your face with the free hand that was resting on his hip. His mouth opened, allowing you to take control and completely overtake his tongue in the fight for dominance. A foreshadowing indeed. He’d let you take until there was nothing left. He was so desperate for you that he was willing to take you, feel you, be connected to you to the highest degree, even in front of his oldest brother. Michael flicked his hot, thick tongue against yours, groaning in pure need. He could feel himself reaching his edge, having your lips on his was the kryptonite that almost made him finish in his trunks earlier. He had to pull away and think of something quickly. So, he tried something different. He pulled away from your lips and stood up at the edge of the cot. 

“M-Michael?” 

“Flip over, mama.. c’mon, D’you trust me?”

You gave him a weak nod, doing as he asked, lying prone on your stomach. He smirked, finally taking a good look at your plump backside, your perfect back, those beautiful thighs that seemed to get thicker as he adjusted your position. 

“Now, just… uhm… arch your back… like the game Leapfrog? Like you’re playin’ that.” You once again did as he told you, getting on all fours. He did the rest, gently pushing your back down into a deep dip. He made sure to worship you while using you, massaging your back deeper and deeper to get you to poke that lovely ass out for him. He slung his head down, planting gentle kisses all over it. Beginning from all the way up to your shoulder blades, the center of your back, down to your hips, then finally a gentle kiss over the dimples of your ass. His kisses felt like little individual warm butterflies fluttering across your body. They were so delicate that it made you feel better about doing this position that seemed so new and foreign to you.

“That’s perfect, love. Y-You ready? I’m about to go inside you again…” 

“G-Go ahead, please…” Michael nodded, easing his hips up forward, allowing his cock to easily glide back inside. He whimpered from the sudden warmth, you squeezing him once more. He was so hard for you; he didn’t even need his hand to guide its way back in, solely using his hips. He placed his large and slender hands onto your hips, pulling your ass back onto him. This position made it hit your stomach even more, causing a guttural noise to escape you. One of relief since he was hitting your spot so fucking good, you spread your legs just a bit, letting him completely take control of you. He gripped your hips a bit more deeply, an impression of his fingers being left on your skin. 

“Jesus, Mike. I didn’t know you had it in you. Where you get that?” 

“S-Shut the-… Shut up, Jackie. Just hush… and watch.” His voice was demanding, firm, tense. This new side of Michael was so sexy and unfamiliar. Michael’s hand reached up your back, tangling his fingers in your curls, gripping your hair tightly in his fist. Your head jerked back, neck stretched so you could see Michael’s face perfectly, gazing lazily down at your gorgeous body. The sound of your plump ass repeatedly slamming against his hips were deafening, and so were those pretty moans and squeals. 

“Mikey, baby. You… You’re hitting my spot. I’m so close… You got me…” 

“Let it all out, give me that honey like I told you. You tasted so sweet on my tongue, let him get a taste of that. He wants it badly. Can’t you tell?” 

“Yes, Mikey, here it comes, shhhitt..” You poked your ass out more than usual as you fucked yourself against Michael’s cock, faster. The clapping sound of you and Michael skin to skin increased as you gripped onto the sheets of the cot for leverage. Michael let go of your hand, planting a faint smack on your ass, watching it jiggle and wobble from his force. After feeling your thick and creamy mess flood over his length, one last deep thrust from Michael until he slowly pulled himself out.

“Oh, Lord… I’m about to… make… such a naughty mess all over you, pretty… Jackie, get a towel for us, please.” Michael held his cock in his hands as he shot out thick white ropes of sperm all over your back, your beautiful ass, and the outside of your puffy pussy. Michael whined loudly, his toes curling so hard they might just cramp up, he wouldn’t have noticed anyway. His head was thrown back, the afro sheen product in his hair, sliding down the sides of his face. Mixing with his sweat. Jackie actually walked away from the two of you, grabbing a clean blue and yellow beach towel, and throwing it over to Michael. Michael caught it perfectly, nodding up to Jackie as a way of saying “Thank you.” He began gently wiping off the speckles of cum from your body, whispering to you in the process.

“I hope you can forgive me for such a mess. I-… I lost all control. You have that effect on me.”

“Mmm… You’ve told me that line already, pumpkin.” 

“Did I? gosh I’m-.. Sweetie. Thank you for such a nice evening… Hopefully I’ll be seeing you more often. Just, in different circumstances, like… You and I… going steady. Wouldn’t you like that?” You laid back in the supine position, on your back once again, staring up at Michael. Your eyes flashed over to Jackie, seeing his reaction to all of this. All you were met with from Jackie was a shrug. A sign that the ball was in your court, officially. Michael flashed his eyes over to Jackie again, shaking his head at how he didn’t even try to fight for you.

“What a dim-wit.”

“Michael, that sounds divine. I’d love to… officially go steady with you… You’re amazin’.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course.” Michael reached his hand out for yours, pulling you up to stand right in front of him. Your nude body pressed right against his, feeling his swollen cock throb against your thigh. He held you by your hips, leaning into your face. His eyes flutter shut, and so do yours. The tip of his nose circled yours, teasing you just a bit. You could feel a smile from the way his cheeks were stretching a bit. Michael’s lips met yours, playfully tracing his bottom lip with yours, then sealed this infidelity with a lingering, longing kiss. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as he held you. He pulled away from you, just so that he could look at you one last time before you two left your own little cocoon.

“You ready to go out there, sweet pea?” 

It was summertime, 2002. July 23rd to be exact. The Neverland Ranch was stunning this time of year. The orchids by the entrance were in bloom, and the smell of fresh tree sap filled the air. The sweet, sugary scent of cotton candy absolutely flooded your nostrils. You were the mother of the birthday boy, the mother of an up-and-coming child star. Michael noticed the new talent of your son in acting and wanted to get closer to you both. Perhaps be a mentor to him amid his newfound fame. His father had left you around the time he was born so he never had that strong male figure in his life. Michael believed that it was most important in a young man’s formative years. Because of this, Michael formally invited you and your son, Bradley, to celebrate his ninth birthday at the famous Neverland Ranch. 

You were standing in front of the merry-go-round, watching all of the kids. A blur of colors, all meshed together, going in a circle on the polished wooden horses. More importantly, you watched your son with a brimming white smile smeared across his little face. You haven’t seen the dimples on those cheeks in ages. You couldn’t help but grin at his smile, getting lost in the moment. Nothing else mattered but your son’s joy and the warm glow he possessed while being here at Neverland. 

Suddenly, you felt a presence enter your space. The energy was shifted almost instantly. You lifted your head in the direction of that energy, getting a glimpse of silky, straightened, black hair. It looked incredibly soft in person. The kind of hair that your fingers could run effortlessly through. An upturned nose peeked from underneath the silky black hair, all of his features finally coming into view. The large hand of this man rose up to his forehead, brushing away at the stray hairs from in front of his face.

The moment was nice, just two parents enjoying the view of their children enjoying the ride. The sound of the kids hollering with joy allowed a soft laugh to escape his lips. The deep octave of his laughter made you instantly turn your head to look at who was managing this melodious sound. Michael swiveled his head to face you, just as you turned your pretty little head to gawk at him in his attentive gaze.

“Which one’s yours?” Michael teasingly cooed, the smile never leaving his lips as his gaze finally met with yours. His eyes quickly went back to watching his children on the ride. “You know which one’s mine, silly.” You playfully nudged Michael’s shoulder with your elbow, making him release a slight cackle from his mouth. “Seriously, He’s having such a good time, Michael. Thank you so much for having us.” 

“Don’t mention it. Please don’t. Your son… he deserves it. He works so hard on that show. A child needs fun like this. I’ve been in his shoes before… never had anything like this.” Michael’s face softened; the wrinkles in his face started to appear as he reminisced on his childhood. Shaking his head at the memories. Seemingly trying to shake off the negative thoughts. You could tell his mind went elsewhere; the once-lively eyes turned dull, and the large smile began to fade away. 

“Oh, Michael. I’m-..sorry.” That was all you could muster up to say. Your eyebrows furrowed in worry as you watched him suddenly regress after just seeming content. “How about this? When the kids go to bed tonight, you and I can come back here and have our own fun on the rides? Whaddya say?”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. You’re on. We’ll see who shows up first. I’m excited to see you tonight already.”

“I’m excited to see you, too, Michael. I’ll be here around 8:00. I’m sure all the boys will be in bed by then. Be here or be square.” 

Michael allowed a light chuckle to escape his lips as he covered his mouth at your teasing words, shaking his head.

“You’re fun. I’m gonna like you.” Michael said to you softly, tilting his head in your direction. He licked his lips as he said those words, and you noticed. But didn’t want to jump to any conclusions about the implications of what that could mean. Maybe his lips were just dry? Get your mind out of the gutter. But you couldn’t help but think…

………….

Later that evening, you were the first one to arrive in the backyard. You made your way down the cobblestone path, following the sounds of the animals. Your feet dragged against the rough stones; maybe you shouldn’t have worn sandals. You were met with one of the tan brown llamas, looking in your direction with those big black eyes. “Well, aren’t you just a cutie? Michael sure knows how to pick ‘em. And you’re so sweet..”

You reached out to pet the llama, your fingertips grazing against its soft fur. It leaned in closer against your hand, not wanting to leave your touch anytime soon. While you were lost in seeing the pleasure of the llama, you had completely zoned out, not noticing your surroundings. Michael appeared from behind you, giving you your space, not wanting to startle you as you pet his llama.

“I see you’re starting to like Louie, huh? He’s my first-ever llama I've ever bought. Most of the moms stayed away from the animals. You’re the first one that actually came over to ‘em.” Your eyes fluttered open, being sucked back into reality after you heard that soft voice suddenly appear from thin air. You picked your head up to finally get a good look, seeing Michael standing there in a pair of black joggers and a white V-neck t-shirt. His hair was braided back in a fishtail as well, a look he soon took to. 

“Well, those other mothers are boring then… they all bore me half to death anyway. Louie is a little angel.” Michael walked up closer to you, pushing his hands in his pockets, feeling slightly bashful. a grin beginning to plaster across his lips. “Oh yeah? They are?” 

“Yes, Michael. And would you look who’s late to our own little party?” You say teasingly, playfully wagging your finger in front of his eyes, another laugh escapes his lips, making him a bit shy, having to cover his face. “I’m sorry… Prince did not want to go to bed. It took me over an hour to get him to lay down. Let’s go on the Ferris wheel; maybe that’ll make it up to you?”

“Hm, maybe it will. But you still have a ways to go, Jackson.”

Michael looks at you mischievously. As if he were planning something in his head. One of his perfect brows raised, walking closer to you, grabbing your delicate hand into his. Your hand was so small compared to his; it practically disappeared in his palm as he held it, guiding you further down the cobblestone path. 

“C’mon. Let’s go— Ferris Wheel’s my favorite.” Michael stared up towards the setting sun, analyzing the different colors in the sky swirling together. Michael’s steps were precise and careful. Making sure to walk in a straight line, not trying to bump into you. Once you two arrived at the Ferris Wheel, you both stared at the colorful lights bouncing off the ride. The purples, blues, and reds danced against the faces of you and Michael. Michael shifted his gaze towards you, watching the lovely colors bouncing off your face, showing you in a different light.

“Just beautiful. No, really. You are. Let’s get on that ride.” Michael never let go of your hand, keeping you close to him. “Ladies first.” He hums to you while he guided you up into the entrance, opening the gate, allowing you to sit on the seat. Michael nodded his head up to the ride operator, signaling to start the ride. Michael sat down next to you, putting his arm behind your back, gazing up towards the night sky. The stars were so bright that you could see them reflecting off Michael’s big brown eyes. “It’s a really nice night, Michael. I really want to thank you again for inviting me and Bradley. You’re so generous.”

“I told you, don’t mention it. You and your son deserve it. I told you that already. You have such a beautiful son. Any child that came from you would be.”

When Michael said that, you felt your cheeks instantly get warm with a desire that you hadn’t even felt for Bradley’s father. Being a young mother yourself, it’s been a while since you felt this kind of touch from a man. Physically, emotionally, who cares? It was something you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. 

“Speak for yourself. Your children are adorable, Michael. They’re just like you. Full wonder, just like you are.”

“You really think so? I get that all the time from Janet.”

“It’s the truth. You’re really a great father to them.”

“Speaking of fathers, what ever happened to Bradley’s dad? He should be so proud of him and where he is now, the places he’s goin’.”

“Oh-…his dad. He um… he left a bit after Bradley was born. Couldn’t handle being a father. So, I let him go. Who needs him?” You kissed your teeth at the mention of Bradley’s father. It still seems to be a touchy subject for you to talk about. Michael turned his head to face you, taking your delicate hand in his, the skyline reflected off of his sharp jawline, showcasing that otherworldly face of his. “That person is no man at all. You’re amazing. That guy is an idiot for not sticking beside you and Bradley. I mean that. You have such a beauty that you couldn’t keep for yourself; you had to share it with Bradley.”

His hands started to feel hotter in your hands. Like lava. This wasn’t his hands, but yours. Your whole body was yearning. Burning up from his declaration. You were so enamored with his eyes that you didn’t even notice that you were all the way in the air at this point on the Ferris wheel. Michael leaned in against your ear, holding your hands, then pulled you closely to his lips.

“You know what I first thought when I saw you in front of that merry-go-round?” 

“And what’s that, Michael?” 

Michael smirked and started a light chuckle as he began to whisper into your ear. His hand had let go of yours, gently moving up to cup your jaw, almost as if he were pulling your head closer to his lips. He wanted you to hear him closely because he wasn’t going to repeat himself. His hand was so big that it covered the entire lower half of your face. “I thought you were some good fish… I just had to talk to you. I didn’t know if you were married, getting married… at some point I didn’t even care… just needed to-…get closer to you.”

You could feel your heart instantly drop to your toes. You couldn’t believe his words, not just any man, Michael Jackson’s words. His statement hit you like oncoming traffic. Your mouth was as if it were sewn shut. You had no voice at this moment. You had no idea what to say to him; all you could manage were sudden stammers and stutters. It was too adorable.

“M-Michael, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anythin’. We can just enjoy each other quietly. If that’s what you want, princess.” Michael’s voice started to get lazy. No longer the elegant and poised voice you’d hear at press conferences or his album signings, but relaxed. He spoke more slowly and less precise. 

He gently traced his long thumb over your soft, warm cheek, staring deeply into your eyes. Those big brown eyes. Staring deeply into your own. This time, his eyes were low, and the bottom of his lip suddenly disappeared, his teeth biting down on it. It was quite obvious he wanted to kiss you. His eyes never left your plump lips. He was just a bit too shy to make the first move on you, needing you to inch just a little closer. Show him that you needed this too. 

Your breathing grew heavier and heavier, to the point where Michael could feel your shaky breaths against the tip of his nose and lips. The blood from your head rushed away from your brain, going down to the space between your legs. The tension was getting to be too much, his gentle hand cradling your face, the sexy, dazed look he had, the both of you just waiting to see who would make the move first.

“Michael, I really, really want to kiss you, but I think I know where it’ll lead.”

“Well, why don’t you just show me where it’ll lead, hm?”

“But I thought-.. aren't you… Married?”

“C’mon. You know I got divorced. And you’re nothin’ like I've ever seen before. I just gotta have you. It's insatiable. Now, I gave you a challenge. Show me where a kiss from a sweet thing like you would lead.” As soon as Michael gave you that challenge, you started to inch in closer, your eyes fluttering shut. Michael leaned in along with you. Your hand found his inner thigh, leading up closer and closer to that thick pulsing bulge he had resting in his black joggers. Your touch had him whining for more. You almost pulled away in shock at hearing those needy whines, but you fed into it. Your lips finally connected with his, and slow and deliberate pecks were just the beginning. The kisses got wetter, louder, the breathing grew stronger, and you were both hungry to taste each other’s mouths.

Michael slowly pulled away, but not too far. Still being able to talk against your lips. “What’s that on your lips that makes ‘em taste s’ good? You have gloss on or somethin’?” His bottom lip gently grazes over your own as he spoke.

“Mhm. Cherry.”

“Mm… cherry. I like that a lot. I need you to always have this one on when I see you. You think you can do that for me?”

“‘Course I can. You had enough to taste? Don’t you want more?”

“Of course I want more. I’ll always want more. You taste so sweet… that tongue is-…”

“You want it?”

“I do. Very much, lovely”

You instantly sauntered yourself to a half-standing position, only so that you could allow yourself to straddle Michael’s lap. His lean thighs held you up with no problem as he placed his large hands on your hips, making sure to keep you in place. He thrusted his hips up against your crotch, making you feel the large bump in his joggers. He inadvertently made you grind against him, using one large hand to easily grip you in place. He used the other hand to beckon you closer with his index finger.

That’s all you needed from him, that signal. You gave him a wide smile as you leaned in, grinding your plump ass against his bulge, planting your sugar-coated lips on his. Michael was the first to add tongue in the kiss, making yours swirl with his, exchanging your sugary saliva with his own. Michael couldn’t take it; his loud groans and whimpers for your sweet spit made him practically hold your jaw in his hand, making your mouth hang open.

“Mmm open that sweet mouth, pretty baby...”

You stuck out your sopping wet tongue, letting it drip down your cleavage. Michael noticed this immediately, leaning into you. His head slowly slung down towards your chest, lapping at your sweet saliva with his hot tongue. Swirling his thick tongue against the skin on your right tit. A light moan escaped your lips. This action from him made you want more. You were starting to get greedy. You took the liberty to push your shirt up above your head, showing off your lovely, full breasts sitting inside your lace pink bra. Michael’s eyes grew wider, and so did the tent in his pants. He stared at you for what seemed like a lifetime. 

“Oh geez… stop starin’ at me like that, Mike. You’re makin’ me nervous..”

“I-I couldn’t help it. I'm sorry, mama. You’re just… gorgeous.”

You could feel the constant twitching as you revealed your chest to Michael. His hands slid back up to your hips, holding you firmly against his throbbing cock, whimpering out for more friction from you. He didn’t mind keeping you bouncing against him, watching those untamed breasts going up and down. He wanted to see those gorgeous tits without that bra restricting them. He was a seasoned vet at this point with women, using one swift hand to unhook your bra with his thumb and index finger, allowing it to fall between you two on his lap.

“Gosh, Michael. Quite impressive.”

“I’ve had some practice… got tired of girls laughin’ at me for not knowing how to get ‘em off..” You couldn't help but giggle at the image of him from the past, having trouble undoing bras from back in his day, and most importantly, being laughed at about it.

“I get it, you're just full of surprises, aren't ya?”

“Well, you look s’ damn beautiful. No surprise about that. You look s’ good up there. And you feel even better.”

The Ferris wheel squeaked into a stopping point at the very top of the wheel, screeching to a halt. You two were so engrossed with each other that you didn’t even notice. You needed him inside you, had to feel that pulsing meat inside you. “Take ‘em off.” You muttered softly against his lips. The sound was hardly above a purr.

“W-Whatcha say?”

“Take off your pants, Michael… please?”

Michael quickly did as you told him, with a slight hesitation from how insistent you were. He liked it. A lot. Most of the women he had been with never ordered him around as you did. He pushed his joggers down, revealing his long but girthy cock. His pubic area was completely smooth, shaved down to nothing. And you didn’t mind. He also had no underwear underneath his joggers, seemingly hoping this was how the night was going to go with you. Michael also took the liberty of slowly yanking down your leggings before you asked. Showing how much he wanted your skin on his. Your matching pink lace panties completely told your biggest secret, the wetness on full display to him. 

“She’s purring, huh? She so needy, isn’t she?”

“God, Michael, yes. I'm so needy… for you only.” As you spoke, you reached down in between your bodies, stroking him off slowly. Feeling every vein against your palm, the throbbing only got worse as his groans filled the air. Michael sucked air through his teeth, tilting his head back, feeling your soft and slick hand going up and down his length. “God, that feels perfect. Go ahead and take a seat. Sit up on it. What are you? Scared?” Michael whispered against your lips. A large and teasing smile started to stretch across his face. 

“Scared is the last word I’d ever use. I’m never scared of you, Jackson. I’ll prove it. C’mere..” He watched you as you slowly anchored yourself down to his already polished tip. Dripping with his premature semen. He kept his hand on the base of his cock, allowing you to easily glide yourself down. Once you finally felt Michael invade your slick and hot opening, the both of you gasped into the air. He was a bit larger than what you were used to, feeling a sharp pressure reside within your belly. But all of that soon went away. Between his reassuring whimpers and his firm, yet delicate touch, he turned your pain into pleasure. Michael gripped tightly onto your waist, holding you firmly in his grasp. He would rather die than allow you to let go of his touch in this moment. Your pussy was gripping onto him so tightly; the milking from you was incredible. Your moans only increased his hunger for you, making him whine for you deeply and grip onto you tighter. Pretty soon, you began riding him harder, rolling your hips against him, making him hit every wall inside you. 

“Oh my god… look at you go… You feel s’ good.. you’re doing so good for me, baby..” Michael whined very softly, his big hands making you bounce against his lap, the wet and sloppy noises filling the air around you both. You reached up to Michael’s shoulders, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Your hands found their way tangled in his fishtail braid, twirling your fingers around his strands of hair. You kept moving your hips in a circle while he made you slam down harder each time you came down. Every slam down against his length shook you to your core, almost knocking the wind out of you. He wanted to get so deep inside. Deep for a reason.

“You’re in so deep…god, Michael.”

“Oh yeah? You feel me? Tell me where… Right there? Is it right here, baby?”

“Yes, Michael. That’s my spot… this is a dangerous game we’re playing..”

“It's a good, dangerous, isn't it?”

“I-I agree… truly.”

“You make such beautiful children; I want one of our own. You gonna give me that, baby? You want to have my babies? Tell me that’s what you want. I’ll give it to you right now, sweet thing.” Michael coos to you unexpectedly. This one escapade of yours made him want to have all your babies. You could tell he meant it by the way he was holding you. 

“Oh, Michael. I-… I’ll do it… I want your babies. I’ll gladly have ‘em…Please give ‘em to me?”

“Mm. That's a good girl. S’ good for me. So perfect..” Michael nodded slowly at your request as he reached up to one of your breasts, gently suckling on your nipple. He held it with one hand, easily palming it. His hot and thick tongue circled around your areola before he started to flick his tongue vigorously up and down against your diamond-hard nipples. The crisp nighttime air hit your breasts, making you shiver. That was until Michael warmed your skin quickly. He whimpered as he suckled on your breasts. As if he were nursing from you, not stopping until he left faint red hickies across them. Michael peeked up at you from under his brows, enjoying the view of you using him for your pleasure. You kept your arms around his shoulders, feeling the pressure build up more and more inside your pussy. It took one final sloppy thrust, Michael gave from beneath you that made you tilt your head back in ecstasy. 

“Mi- Michael! Fuck, I’m coming! I’m there!”

“Mm. I feel it. Ride it out, baby. I got ya. I’m right here.”

Michael lifted you a bit, then slammed you back down deeper against his lap, forcing you to roll your hips and ride your orgasm out. The final slam made you reel back. And finally, you felt it. Your back arched deeply, unleashing your sweet sticky mess all over his lap, down his unbelievably heavy wood. 

“I hope you meant you wanted those babies from me, sweet thing. ‘Cause… here they-..”

Michael couldn’t even finish his sentence; his words were interrupted by his hot and thick cum completely painting your walls white, invading your pussy. His potent sperm reached deep inside you, fertilizing your eggs, just as he said he would. You collapsed on top of Michael, panting loudly as you gripped onto his shirt tightly. Michael held onto you just as tight, kissing your cheek, still emptying himself inside you. The twitching was hard to ignore, but you allowed him to. It was satisfying at this point, feeling him succumb to his desires and thirst for you. God, he was so thirsty.

“You feel that, don’t you?”

“Mhm..”

“You know, I’d love to be there for you and Bradley. He needs a good male role model. I’d love to be that for him. If you'd let me..”

“Oh, Michael… there's plenty of time to figure that part out. We got the time, don’t we?”

“I-I suppose so… I just see great promise in him. I want to take him far.”

Michael allowed his back to relax and roll back onto the seat, gripping your hips close to him, making you roll his hips against his sticky mess. He made sure his baby batter was never escaping that hole of yours. You both started to slow your breathing down, slowly coming back down onto earth. Leaving this otherworldly place that was populated by just you and Michael. 

“Did this make up for me being late, pretty girl?”

“What do you think? You just rocked my world..” Michael chuckled at the call-back to his own song, tilting his head away from you, trying to conceal his smile with your hair that was resting against his face. 

“It might be too early to know now, but would you believe me if I said I was in love? Better yet, do you believe in love?” 

You couldn’t help but burst out in a hearty chuckle, covering your face from your bashfulness. Your chin rested against Michael’s shoulder, whispering into his ear while allowing your bottom lip to graze against his earlobe. “Let's get off this Ferris wheel, then we can talk allll about it, hm?”

Michael nodded, feeling that was fair enough. A smile never left him while he was by your side. He was incredibly excited to discuss his newfound love with you in his mansion.

“D’ya think the ride operator heard all that?”

“Who cares? I’d do it all again in a heartbeat, you hear me?” He said while laughing. His laugh made you do the same as he held you close to him. He banged his palm against the side of the carriage that you two were lying in, signaling for the operator to lower you two back to the ground. Just enjoying the view of the skyline on your descent back down.

Michael wanted to keep the relationship a secret from the public eye, tabloids always nippin’ at his heels. You were quite the bombshell, but the paparazzi would never leave you alone if they ever caught wind. An evening at the 1989 AMAs, you were invited by Michael as his plus one. Finally, an appearance will be made by you. Your heart was full and hopeful of this new beginning for you and Michael. He still seemed uneasy about this whole thing, insisting that you keep your face covered with a veil. You followed his request, wearing a sheer red veil to go along with your silk backless red dress. You did so much to impress Michael, doing your toes his favorite color, red, and your nails, which he picked out the color for. You followed everything he asked of you, all to make him happy. All for him to still introduce you as his “friend” while being approached by the paparazzi. Not even a “dear friend,” as he called his actual friend, Elizabeth Taylor. 

You knew he was still emotionally and physically scarred after his accident; and you did everything you could to pick up the pieces, but you needed care as well. As of late, with touring, his dancers making advances toward him, and the tabloids pointing out every other possible match for him but you, the flame was ignited. You and Michael arrived at Neverland Ranch after the awards ceremony, and it was the silent treatment all the way home. Once parked, you held up your dress, hopped out of the limousine, and stood at the front door, waiting for Michael to open it up with his master key. Your back was turned to him. The backless dress exposed the shallow, shaky breaths in an attempt to hide the tears desperately trying to break through the waterline in your eyes. Your heart was full, still, but not of hope. Of disappointment.

“You are really somethin’, you know that?”

Michael muttered, sounding rather cold to you. That was the final nail in the coffin. The tears broke free from your waterline, rolling down your now sizzling hot cheeks. You couldn’t believe that after a night like this, he would say such a thing. All you could do was follow him into the house, wiping your hot tears quickly so he couldn’t see. You sniffled from behind his back, which caused him to finally turn around and face you, looking closely at your face, your cheeks now slightly puffy from tears rolling down.

“Oh, no, baby. Don’t start this tonight. Not tonight, please.”

“Well, when Michael?! When can we start this? When will be a good day for you? Because there sure as hell never will be a day on this great green earth that will be good for you. We are having this conversation right now, Michael.

Michael seemed stunned at your sudden outburst. So much so that he physically reacted, stepped back. Making his shiny black loafers drag against the marble floors. It seemed as if this was bottled up over the course of months. He truly didn’t believe where all of this intensity came from. You had your disagreements, sure, but never to this magnitude.

“What did you want to talk about? Can’t you see I’m spent after today? I have no energy to fight tonight.”

“You know exactly what I want to speak to you about. Introducing me as your “friend”? Being asked by reporters if you had a lady in your life, you said, “No, not at this time.””

You mimicked Michael’s soft, high-pitched voice, the one he puts on when he does interviews. You walked away from him, allowing his frame to stand there wearily by the front door. His shoulders dropped as he gave a subtle nod towards Bill Bray and giving him the signal to head off on his way home and let him deal with this for the night, shutting the door softly behind him. Your nerves were so shot, you needed a stiff drink to calm yourself down. Your Christian Louboutin stiletto heels rhythmically clicked against the marble floor as you made your way towards the kitchen, reaching up to the cabinet he had stocked with alcohol for other visitors. He didn’t like you drinking, and tonight, you couldn’t care less. You wanted to drink in spite of his preferences. 

“Baby, you already know why I say those things. This shouldn’t be a conversation. It’s to keep you safe. Y’ know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, Michael. But what about those dancers? Hm? Those dancers who claim you? You don’t say a word to the press; you never claimed me! If this is your way of keeping me safe, you are doing a poor job.”

Your eyes flickered across the kitchen, searching for the cupboard that held the glasses. This was until you groaned in frustration, realizing there was a glass right in front of you. Your palm met the bottle full of scotch and you sighed deeply, gazing at that liquid gold pour itself into the glass. Michael picked his head up at the sound of the “glug, glug, glug” from the bottle echoing in the kitchen. At the time, he was loosening up his tie and yanking his military-esque jacket off of his broad shoulders.  He stood up from hearing that familiar sound, known all too well from his father. Finally, he met with you in the kitchen, standing across the island. His jaw was tense, biting down on his bottom row of teeth, a loose curl swaying against his forehead. His jeri curl was slick already, but his sweat from tonight only intensified the slickness. 

“You really gonna drink that in front of me right now? Y’ know how I feel about that drinkin'. Don’t do that. Just-… baby. Put the bottle down.”

“Mike, why should I? Just answer the question. Why won’t you talk about me? At least make it known that you have someone important in your life? Are you just using me as your therapist? One day I’m your baby; the next I’m hardly a “dear friend”. You should know, I have feelings too, Michael.” 

“I hear you, I do. But please don’t drink that. We can talk about it without the scotch, please. Just-… put the cup down, baby. I promise you’re my baby.”

Michael gently laid his large, vascular hand on top of yours. His big, black aviator glasses peered deeply into your large brown irises. You reached your hands slowly up to his face, unhappy that his eyes were being covered from you. Instantly, you ripped those glasses right off his face; he didn’t want you looking into his eyes when he got this way. His doe-like eyes finally met with yours, searching for an answer in his own mind. He thought that after all of this time, you would understand him, but his judgment was never sufficient.

“It’s ‘cause I care about you, sweetheart. I care about you. I don’t want to give those vultures any indication that I’m with you ‘cause… 

‘Cause if somethin’ happened to you and they were the cause of it… I wouldn’t want to be Michael Jackson. I’ll be one of my disguises, some other guy for the rest of my life. With the tabloids, the tours, the constant harassment from dancers… there’s no other person I would want to come home to. It’s you. It’s always gonna be you.”

You looked down at Michael’s hand against yours, feeling the warmth against his fingertips. Being reminded that he isn’t the robot he presents himself to be on the stage. Slowly, you pulled your hand away from his touch, walking away from him, leaving him by the kitchen island. Your steps echoed in the kitchen while Michael watched you intently; every moment of silence was like icy daggers penetrating his heart. He could feel you detaching from him, the distance, your coldness this evening; he knew this relationship was in substantial danger. His big brown eyes were longing for you to turn around, to look into those desperate windows straight into his soul. 

“Michael, I just… don’t know… I’m really tryin’. I just feel like… I’m not even here. Like I’m just a… a ghost waiting to be recognized by you. I’ve been thinkin’; it would just be easier if I wasn’t even here. Truly a ghost.”

You marched away from Michael, allowing him to soak in the sensitive moment. His shoulders drooped as he spun his body around to follow you out of the kitchen.

His smooth and large hand grabbed onto your smaller hand, stopping you from leaving his space. He needed you to feel his desperate longing for you before you walked away from him; he couldn’t go through this heartbreak again, not again. He needed you. If it meant breaking the one single promise he had made himself in order to protect you, then so be it. 

As soon as your hand was tangled in his, Michael dropped to his knees, staring up at you, crawling closer to your legs. His eyes never left yours, making sure you were gazing upon him.

He planted soft kisses with his warm lips against your legs, making sure the kisses lingered against your satin skin. He wanted to envelope your skin between his lips, inhaling your aroma. His nose grazed over your silky legs, still holding onto your hand.

He began reaching up, planting fluttering kisses across your knuckles up to your fingertips, staring up into your eyes through his long lashes. Slight whimpers and whines escaped his lips, like a begging puppy who needed its treat.

“Baby… we can’t be done… You can’t walk out on me. I need you. Now, more than ever. Just stay. I’ll do whatever I can to make you stay, make you happy. I love you more than any song, any award, any project; you are my music, my greatest work of art.”

You dropped down to your knees in front of him, seeing him beg and grovel at your feet like this. It only made you want to comfort him and make him feel your warmth as well, just as you have before today. You held onto him closely, feeling a deep sigh escape his lips. You were here, and he had you. He had you. His long arms wrapped around you, keeping you close to his thumping heart. You could take in a slight scent of his own sweat mixed with his favorite cologne. You couldn’t miss it. Bal à Versailles, the rich and powdery scent filled your nostrils as he squeezed you tightly.  

“I promise, Michael. I’m not leavin’. We gettin’ through this. I love you too. You know that. But you know what you got to do, Michael?”

It was a hot summer day in Encino. August 11th, 1979. You and Jackie were so close to finally getting to that last base, but there was a little interruption. Michael. The way Jackie was so delicate with you that night, the way his deep voice sounded so focused on you and your pleasure, cemented the idea that today was the day you decided you and Jackie were going to go all the way. You and Latoya were still very good friends, all the way from elementary school. She invited you to a pool party to celebrate Michael’s album release for “Off The Wall.” You had heard some of the songs, and loved every one of them, even buying the vinyl the day it came out. Although you kept all of this a secret from Jackie. You thought you had to.

You carefully packed for this little rendezvous planned with Jackie, thoroughly. The night before the party, you and Latoya had done your nails, painting yours a seductive red that looked eye-catching with your skin tone. You also bought a foxy, cheetah-print string bikini that held up your full, perky breasts, and a thong that showed off your perfect, round ass. Tight and plump like a peach. You shaved completely everywhere, except leaving a landing strip on your soft and smooth mound. Your legs appeared as if they were dipped in honey. Slick and smooth with a shea butter lotion after you hopped out of the shower.

You smelled of a sultry scent, a spritz of your warm vanilla perfume. The intoxicating aroma trailed behind you as you strolled down your driveway to the Jackson’s family driver. Once you made it to the Jacksons’ house, there were not as many people there as you assumed there would be. They still managed to maintain a sense of privacy even upon the release of Michael’s very successful album. It seemed to be exclusively friends and family. They had his album playing in the background, and as you arrived, “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” was playing over the speakers. Latoya was standing in front of the gate, waiting for you, squealing when she saw you exit the driver’s car. She pulled you in for a tight hug, gushing over you.

“Girl, you look so good! Jackie is going to love this look. The rest of the family is inside in front of the pool. Come on in! Come on in!”

She giggled as she skipped inside with you, her hand holding yours. Once inside the gates, all of the boys picked their heads up from their game of spades to say their halfhearted hellos. Jackie stood up smoothly with a clear glass full of whiskey in his hand, greeting you personally. He was wearing his black swimming trunks and shades that hid his eyes from tracing your body.

His frame was rippling with muscles, in the best shape of his life, one could say. His pectorals would twitch and bounce with each step, especially as he hugged you closely. You could tell he had a couple of drinks before this one; his breath was thick with the strong whiskey. Michael looked up at you as well; his gaze held a little longer than the other boys’.

The longer he looked, the more he focused those big eyes on those thick thighs, that round ass, and most of all, your beautiful face. He was so entranced, he didn’t bother to say hello; he didn’t say anything. His body said it all, feeling his guard go up after seeing how Jackie was interacting with you. He definitely didn’t like it. He had the pinging urge to make you his. But how?

Jackie wrapped his arm around you, feeling over your waist, hugging every curve. His hand slowly saunters down towards your ass, his large and demanding hand, cupping it rather roughly. All while he leans in to give you a slow, sensual kiss on the lips in front of the other boys. Marlon, Tito, Jermaine, and Randy all chanting, “Jackie! Jackie! Jackie!” as if they were cheering on their favorite sports team. All of them, but Michael. Michael sat there and looked up from his novel about the Wizard of Oz, scanning you two as a couple. After Jackie was finished making out with you passionately, he made sure to make eye contact with Michael. Reminding him of who you belonged to. Michael’s jaw tensed, showcasing that strong jawline of his, his acne nearly gone.

The party proceeds as normal, with you talking about your relationship with Jackie, other boys at school, and the adult parties Latoya has been to since Michael’s success. All while Jackie continues to drink heavily and pour himself shots of whiskey, not really paying you too much mind since you had your girl talk. Jermaine started to notice Jackie beginning to nod off from his drunken stupor, slurring his words when he spoke to his brothers. Jermaine announces that Jackie has had enough and suggests that he go inside to rest.

“Mama! You gonna let ‘maine kick me out like that? You gonna come inside with me?”

He spoke to you rather roughly, something you did not like. It turned you off, and you shook your head at Jackie’s request to follow you. “He was just going to fall asleep on you anyway,” You thought to yourself. So, you nodded in agreement with Jermaine.

“He’s right, Jackie. Just go up to your room; I’ll be up there in a bit, okay? I’m enjoyin’ myself. Just try and sober up ‘fore I get up there.”

“I’d better see your foxy self up there, mama. I’ll come down and get you if you don’t, you dig me?” He said with a joking smirk.

You just rolled your eyes and nodded to him as Jermaine walked him up the stairs into the mansion. Michael and Marlon also seemed to be displeased with Jackie’s behavior. Looking at each other from the corner of each other’s eyes. Marlon stood up from his lounge chair and walked towards the pool, yelling out “Marco Polo!”

You were, of course happy to play, standing up and stretching out your body. Trying to get the slight crick out of your neck, Michael stood up next to you. Just needing an excuse to be near you.

“I-.. I could play too. I’m really good. I’ll bet I could catch you in ten seconds flat, beautiful.”

“Oh yeah? We’ll just see about that, Mikey.”

This was an innocent nickname to you, although he could feel his heart accelerate a little faster at this innocent nickname. Even more so when he stared, watching you walk away. The way your hips swayed made every step from you result in another jiggle or ripple arising on your perfect bottom. Michael shyly tugged at his shorts, pulling at them a bit to make room for his pulsing cock.

“Oh god, give me strength.”

Michael whispered under his breath as he yanked at his shorts, sneakily staring at your gorgeous backside. As you walked to the water, you could hear Michael utter something under his breath, making you twist around to ask him to repeat it.

“You say something, Mikey?”

“N-No, I didn’t say nothin’”

Once you finally reached the water, getting acclimated to the rules, Michael started the game off. He was nominated to go first, since he was the reason you all were gathered here today.

“Marco!”

He said with a large smile plastered on his face as he stumbled and tripped at times under the water, listening to all of the different voices calling out.

“Polo!”

You all responded in unison. He knew he was listening for your voice the most, though, following you closely. You had to hand it to him, he was pretty good at the game. Or maybe just good at listening for you. Just as soon as he finally caught up to you, he reached his hand out to touch you, sensing he was close to you. That vanilla scent of yours grew stronger and stronger inside his nostrils. The scent only enticed him to get closer, anticipating the warmth of your body right in front of his.

You could feel his large and slender fingertips land right on top of your chest. His elegant fingers rested right on top of your cheetah print fabric, gently cupping your full breast. Suddenly, his smile wavered and dropped. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, circling his thumb around your erect nipple. That feeling sealed it for him. He didn’t want to believe what he was touching, but he had to.

Once he opened his eyes, they went wide, wider than usual. The poor thing looked like a deer in headlights, but he still didn’t seem to want to pull away.

Suddenly, he yanked his palm away from your breast, feeling his head reeling, more dangerously, feeling his length grow even larger in his black swimming trunks. He had to get out of this water, or else you would possibly brush up against him and feel what had been growing for you for so long.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed. Oh gee... I-… I have to go...You all just keep playing without me, alright? I’ll be right back, promise.”

He beamed a wide smile at you, obviously a nervous one, as he chuckled in his usual high-pitched melodious tone. He stuttered and slipped up his words; it sounded so adorable.

You didn’t even get the chance to explain to him that it wasn’t a big deal. He immediately thought he ruined the entire game because of his slip-up.

You decided to give him a bit of space to run into the pool house and settle down from this small incident. Although you couldn’t help but feel the need to follow.

You all went back to playing for at least five more minutes, and Michael still hadn’t come out yet. You decided that enough was enough. You needed to go and comfort him. So, you lifted yourself out of the water, body dripping wet, bikini sticking to your skin, clinging to the curves on your hips. You began wandering towards the pool house that was just on the other side of the yard and planted a firm knock on the door, waiting for Michael to answer you, but no response.

“Mikey? You in there?”

You peeked into the peephole in the door, but not a thing could be seen. So, very slowly, you pushed against the door, and it gave way. Michael was inside, standing in the middle of the room, stroking his long, girthy cock before you. His soft, high-pitched whimpers filled the pool house, along with the lewd and sloppy noises of both of his large hands moving up and down his rock-hard dick. Sweat began to collect on his forehead, his curls sticking to his sweat-coated head. He must have misjudged how incredibly pent up he was from working in the studio day and night. Your seductive voice, your gorgeous body, and his impure thoughts got the very best of him. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, thinking about having the pleasure of digging deep into your intoxicating hole. His bottom lip disappeared under his top row of teeth, biting down so hard, it could draw blood.

You could tell his dick was heavy, hearing it slap against his slick and flat stomach each time he let it go from his grasp. Once he opened his eyes and picked up his head to face you, he didn’t stop. If anything, he just stared at you. His desire for you finally bubbled over. Michael continued satisfying himself, using your body for reference this time, just staring.

His thick tip was polished with his own pre-cum, and began dripping down on the floor beneath his feet. Flashing a half-innocent smirk at you. He thrusted his hips into his hands, showing you what you could have at any time if you just said the word. His large doe eyes never left your gorgeous brown irises.

“You… You found me-… You enjoyin’ the show? Mm… Seein’ you and Jackie like that…”

He sucked air through his teeth as he began to thrust into his palms, peeking up at you from under his lashes. You could feel your mouth practically going dry, just shocked at the sheer length of this scrawny boy from Gary, Indiana.

“I’m not as experienced as Jackie, but… I can learn… I can make you feel better than Jackie… Any man… What’s he been doing for you? I bet-…”

“Me and Jackie haven’t had sex, Michael… not yet… truth is… I’m not that experienced either.”

You cut him off, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking and let you finish for once. You were closing the space in between you two, feeling the heat of his body as you got closer. He was obviously trying to act like such a hot shot that he didn’t take into consideration that you, as well, were inexperienced.

“Well… I thought if he got a gorgeous girl like you…He must be doing something right… I guess I’m just jealous. You must think I’m a schmuck, huh?”

Suddenly, you began to close the space between you two. The closer you got to Michael, the more you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His cock twitched in your direction as he beckoned for you to come closer with his index finger. He made sure to keep that boyish smile for you as he watched his temptress get closer and closer to him.

“I don’t think you’re a schmuck at all, Michael. If anything… Y’know I do want you too.

You’re so much different than Jackie. A good different…

I-… please make me feel good. Show me how much better you are than Jackie, Mikey.”

“Just watch me. I’ll show you, dollface... You sound s’ pretty when you ask me like that. C’mere.”

You did exactly as he said, inching closer and closer to Michael as he beckoned for you. You allowed the tension to build as the inches turned into centimeters, and the centimeters turned into no space at all. Michael traced his elegant fingertips across your jaw, staring deeply into your gorgeous eyes. He groaned, feeling his cock twitch from just looking at you, really seeing you. His breath caught within his chest, leaning gently into your lips, allowing his breath to linger over your lips as he spoke.

“You’re just beautiful. I’m hard just lookin’ atcha.. Can I kiss you? I want them lips on mine s’ bad, princess.”

“Of course you can, baby. Please, Mikey, kiss me…”

Your voice broke, sounding almost pathetic as you desperately called out for Mike to kiss you. You knew what this kiss would lead to. The both of you stated what you wanted from each other, or, rather, your bodies did it for you. Michael crashed his lips against yours, holding your jaw in his sizeable hand. He caressed your cheek with his thumb as you both toppled over to the cot in the poolhouse, falling right on top of him.

You must have lost your footing as both of you became distracted, engrossed in each other’s sweet taste.

Michael chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of you finally on top of his lean and wet body. His slick tongue trailed against yours, just needing to exchange as much saliva with you as he could, needing you to taste all of him. Michael’s hand wrapped around your throat as he swirled his wet and hot tongue around yours, lightly squeezing the sides of your delicate neck. He loved how delicate you looked; it only made him want to get you all the more dirty for him.

“I wanna taste you, lemme get a taste a’ you, pretty baby. Your lips taste so sweet… I can only imagine that kitty…”

That sentence he uttered in your ear made you blurt out a chuckle. A hearty one at that. You would never have assumed Michael had the ability to speak this way. He smiled at your adorable laugh, flashing you that adorable boyish grin. He didn’t care about making a fool of himself at this point; he just loved making you laugh. Listening to you laugh made him melt. He was at your mercy.

“Just need you to fuck me, Mike.

C’mon…she’s ready for ya…”

“And I’m ready for her… Lemme prove to you how ready I am… lemme try somethin’… make her feel good…”

You slowly rolled your back down onto the cot as Michael gently pushed you down by your stomach. As you did this, he gently raised your legs so they would easily wrap around the sides of his head, resting on his shoulders. He loved feeling those thick, warm thighs against his ears, feeling you tense up as he teased you. Michael started by seeing how you would react to him, running his fingers up and down against your bikini bottoms, noticing the damp, needy spot around your hole. You were leaking that honey he wanted to taste so damn bad. He circled his tongue around the wet spot of your crotch, allowing you to feel his wet muscle against the thin fabric, his breath felt warm and welcoming. Your own whines filled the room, anticipation creeping out throughout your body. As your breathing slowed, you prepared yourself to feel Mikey’s warm fingers pressing against your skin. He slowly hooked his fingers around the sides of the bikini bottoms, finally pushing them to the side, and finally laying his eyes on your beautiful, leaky pussy up close and personal.

“She’s so pretty… You were gonna let Jackie have this pretty kitty? He don’t deserve it. Use my tongue, mama… It’s yours… I’ll worship her… just watch me.”

He couldn’t help himself but to plant a soft kiss against your pretty pussy, the hungry kisses were masked by his inhales, just taking in your sweet scent. His nose circled around your clit as he began planting soft kisses against your hole, all while his hands reached up between your thighs just to slowly yank that cheetah print bra down, exposing your full breasts.

His thumb once again circled around your right nipple. Needing to present his love towards your warm and full breasts. He wanted you to feel him all over that perfect body of yours. The very body that had him whining and calling out to God just from witnessing it from afar.

“Shhhhit… sss… Mikey… Stop teasin’ me…”

You gripped the back of Michael’s head, fingers twisting around the coils in his afro. Suddenly, you spread your legs, allowing Michael more access. You must’ve wanted this man so bad, you gripped the back of his head, yanking him closer to your pussy, needing his tongue fucking your slippery hole. You felt yourself stick out the tip of your tongue, subconsciously, lost in how you’d like him to move his thick tongue against your flower.

He could tell you were getting antsy, so he obliged. Sticking out his tongue, moving his wet pink muscle up towards your deliciously sweet clit. He puckered his lips against your adorable button, sucking and producing saliva to get you even more slick. Gripping onto his coils tighter, you began arching your back against his lips, needing to grind against them.

The wetness between your legs began to run down his chin and jaw, pooling at the bottom of your ass as he lapped up your wetness. As he was doing this, he tried to stealthily grind his bulge against the cot, trying to satisfy or release any pressure from his cock. Your begs earlier for his dick suddenly started to mesh into his own inner thoughts. “Just slip it in. It’ll feel so fuckin’ good.”

But he had to keep tasting you, needed it. He wanted you to release that delicious cream all over his fucking mouth right now before he even thought about slipping his pretty mauve cock in that tight pussy.

He traced his long and skinny finger around your tight hole, gently adding pressure and slowly pushing them inside as he sucked that pulsing clit. He hummed a low melody against your pussy, adding rhythmic vibrations against it as he ate you. Moving his fingers to the rhythm of his hums. In and out. In and out. Slowly, so he could hear that sticky clicking noise he loved, it drove him up the wall. Because of how wet you got for just one finger, he added another, curling two fingers up inside you as he watched you squirm and gasp for air.

“That kitty talkin’ ta’ me… Whatchu think she wants, huh? Tell me in that pretty voice..”

“She wants you… only you… give it to me… please”

“Cum on these fingers first… Fuck yourself on my fingers… then let me lick you clean… Come on, pretty thing. I feel you at the edge… You’re so close, dollface.”

These words from that soft voice made you whimper out loudly in the air. You arched your back and pushed Michael’s head back in between your thighs. The signal for him to eat you like he hasn’t before. Your legs shook as you started to ride out your orgasm on his pretty face, clutching those curls.

You needed to make such a mess on his face, and you felt proud about being able to give him the creamy dessert he wanted so badly. His fingers stayed consistent, not speeding up, but keeping a steady in and out stroke. He only went deeper, slamming his two fingers in and out. He curled them sharply, hitting that spot, feeling the pressure build. His groans grew louder as just watching you, made him leak pre-cum through his swimming trunks, right onto the cot.

“God, baby. Take those fingers… ugh… You doing s’ good…”

Your breathing hitched as sweat started to run down your forehead, breasts, and down those scrumptious thighs. Michael switched his fingers, moving them to your clit, rubbing three of his finger tips around it in a tight circle. That thick tongue of his traced down your slit, finally being engulfed by your wet pussy hole, thrusting it in and out. He caressed your clit fast, then slow, allowing some variety in his technique.

“Fuuu…ck… Mike! Mike! I’m there! Here it comes… take it all…”

You groaned out loudly in the air as you arched your back into his ready mouth. He managed to collect all of that sweet honey on his tongue, moaning at the sweet taste of you. He pulled your ass cheeks closer, making you slide your entire body up to have that pussy suffocate him. He sucked you clean; the sound of him suctioning onto your clit rang so loud in your ears. At this point, the overstimulation was driving you crazy. You still had it in you to take that thick meat of his. Finally, you were clean, and he rose up from your legs, his lips and chin glistening with your mess. All ready to make you dirty again. Your chest heaved up and down as you watched him begin to crawl up on top of you, littering small kisses all over your skin. Beginning with your thighs, your stomach, and lastly your breasts. He made sure to cup one of them gently, circling his tongue around your nipple, watching it slowly erect as he sucked it between his lips. His lips finally found yours, gripping your throat as he made you taste yourself against his tongue, flicking it against yours. He truly did taste incredible, knowing that his tongue was deep inside your flower. He pulled away, leaning his head down to whisper deeply in your ear.

“Ugh… you tasted so fuckin’ good. You ready? I’m about to make you mine, darlin’

You ready to be mine?”

You nodded slowly as Mike pushed his shorts down, cock springing out instantly. He was already slick with precum, needing no lubricant to enter inside you. Holding the base of his dick, tracing his tip against your clit and needy hole, ready to claim you as his in missionary, until…

“What the fuck?! Mike!”

Jackie was suddenly at the door, holding it open with his back, watching as his brother was climbing on top of his woman, Michael’s neck covered in your red lipstick, jaw glistening with your cream, his trunks in the middle of the floor, along with your bikini top and bottom. He must have slipped through without you two noticing, since you were both in your own euphoria at the time.

“Jackie! I can explain! This isn’t what it looks like…”

But it was- don’t kid yourself, dollface. Just as you were about to explain yourself, Jackie closed the door behind him, smelling the scent of you and Michael. The smell excited him. Jackie smirked, walked up to you, gently running his large and callused hand over your jawline as you stared up at him. He must’ve also been standing there a while, just watching you two in your moment. There seemed to be a large, prominent bulge very visible inside those black swimming trunks of his. He slowly stroked at it, biting his bottom lip as he stared at you. His eyes were low and stayed on you, groaning as he stroked himself off at this sight of your legs spread and ready to receive this package of his brother. A bewildered look was still plastered all over your face. He didn’t seem mad, yet turned on seeing you like this, completely undone and needy for dick.

“You better take it, mama. You wanted it so bad… show us how bad you want his dick…”

“It’s only right if you do it, beautiful.