The Tori Story

Brett first lost his virginity when he was fifteen, working as a
prop-boy for Atlantic record's photo department. He would help set up
shots for album covers, or would occasionally get to help with make-up.
Usually these were tedious jobs; he usually got stuck with the other
boys haulling about the heaviest furniture, or smearing spirit glue over
some middle-aged, washed-out punk singer's shining head so that they
could get the toupee to stay on his head. Mostly only the older people
got to do the artistic work (Like powdering Mariah Carey's bustline.)
This was not to be the case this day. If Brett had been learning the
ropes before, in the next few hours, he would scale ropes to orgasmic
heights he never even believed possible.
This day they were doing a Tori Amos shoot. They started work at
seven, setting up a dreary-looking Southern diorama consisting of a
rickety wheelchair on the worm-eaten porch of a well-weathered southern
hovel. The heaviest things to be set up were the walls and the base of
the porch, and even those were done in a few minutes.
At nine the photographers haulling their heavy equipment came along
with an animal trainer who bore with him in dog carriers a few boa
constrictors and a piglet.
At ten, after the boys were allowed a brief break, a few of the
company executives showed up, and at twelve Ms. Amos herself. She was
the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. A whisp of orange hair above a
gorgeously curved face with full, crimson lips and large eyes. Her
sleeveless shirt and cutoff jeans complimented the gorgeous curve of her
body, and left bare a bit of the lush, folded valley between her
breasts, and her navel --a luscious jewel laden in fresh, opaline milk.
Between her army boots and her cutoffs were two gorgeous legs. She came
in perfectly nonchallant, with purse, sunglasses and a Taco Bell cup.
"When do we start, boys?" She asked, walking up to the manager.
"As soon as you're ready, Ms. Amos." He replied. "We have your
costume waiting for you in your dressing room."
"Cool." She said, already on her way backstage. They waited around
for nearly half an hour until Tori returned in a simple andrather drab,
but still revealing grey bare-shoulders wrap-around and purple skirt,
equally drab which, when parted, though not pornographic, revealed the
greater part of her lower body. The almost colorless material sort of
fit into the rather overcast scene, Brett thought.
"Okay" The executive said; "Now just sit down on the chair. Drape
your legs over the armrest there. There, now that's good! Can someone
give her the gun please?"
Tori looked at the shotgun they passed to her.
"What the hell do I need with this?"
"It's for, how do you say, genre, for the mood, Ms. Amos. Can I call
you Tori? Tori, then. Now, we're almost ready to shoot... but, oh, can
you take off your boots please?"
Tori looked, nonplussed, at her army boots. "What?"
"Can you please take off your boots?"
Dubious, she kicked them off. "And my socks?"
"Of course."
She slid these off too, revealing perfectly shaped, lush feet. A
lackey from wardrobe took the boots and the socks away.
"Hmmm..." The executive said; "No, still not quite right. They
should be a bit more... you know, dreary, forboding. Perhaps someone
could smear a bit of mud over them?"
"Mud??" Tori growled.
"Don't worry, Ms. Amos. It'll only be make-up." A wardrobe higher-up
placated.
"Yes." The executive said, tapping his index finger against his
rolex; "That will do."
Tori sighed and shrugged reluctant surrender.
"Make-up boy!" The higher-up, an ornery woman he knew as O'Donnel
shouted, pointing to him; "Go smear some umber number nine over Ms.
Amos's feet and legs!"
Brett started... HIM? On HER?
"Get going." His supervisor prodded him.
He stumbled forward, taking a bucket of #9 from a wardrobe girl. She
looked at him with a pitying shrug. He walked up the stairs of the
set-porch, right up to Ms. Amos. He noticed for the first time that she
was very short and petite, about five or six inches shorter than he. He
slowly picked up her foot, placing it in his shaking palm. It was very
beautiful. The toes were large, but not stocky, the nails painted with
a sort of fused pink. They didn't smell at all either. He sort of gave
it a few massaging strokes before the executive called out; "Go on! Use
enough too!"
Tori looked down at him with a smile and a wink. "Looks like we're
in the same boat, boy." Her voice was as beautiful and melodic when she
whispered as when she sang.
Umber #9 was a thick, powdery brown, and it came in a tin with a
large glove for smearing. It was usually used for dramatic productions,
to put dirt on weary soldier's faces or to insinuate refuse on beggars
or prisoners.
He donned the glove in his right hand and began to run it over Ms.
Amos's foot, getting it between her toes and rubbing it all the way up
her gorgeous leg. God her feet were divine; all ripe, soft white
flesh. He wanted to sink those toes into his mouth and ram them in and
out like they were a swollen...
Did her other toe just rub up against his rock-hard boner? It was
all he could do to keep himself from either blushing or cuming. Maybe
both. Slowly, as his job was done, he backed down the steps. The
animal handler set up the boas around the chair and around the dry grass
about the porch, and the camera men shot away.
The executive instructed Tori to take a number of different poses,
each one rather strategic to get her to show a bit of leg or cleavage,
but she was smarter than him, and almost always countered him with a
quick turn or a tuck of the cloth.
They replaced the gun with the piglet, and had her coddle it like a
child. Finally, the executive said, they were done for the day.
"Hang on." She said. "Load in another roll, boys. I've got a shot
for you."
The executive looked surprised.
"Does anyone have a bit of milk or cream?" One of the older set
designers held out a cream puff, which she took. With one quick tug,
she pulled one gorgeous tit free of her fabric, and lavished a pinky
full of whipped cream over the large, round nipple. She handed the puff
back with a smile.
THe executive couldn't take his eye off. Brett, and probably every
other cock-barer in the house, wished she'd ask them to lick it off.
Instead she guided the piglet's mouth to the nipple, and sat back
satisfied as it nursed away. Slowly, the cameramen shot their poses.
She'd won. The shoot was over, and she sat up, her breast restored
to her wrap-around, on the rickety old chair, defiant. THe executive
left, red-faced, followed by a convoy of wide-eyed and half-disgusted,
half-intrigued photographered and wardrobe people.
"We'll, uh, take care of the set tommorow, boys." The supervisor
said. "That's a.. a wrap."
"Hold it, boy." Ms. Amos said as the others took off; "you're not
done yet."
"M... me?" Brett asked.
"Yeah." She said. "You made the mess, you clean it up."
He walked in a daze up the steps. Slowly, he extended his hand and
she put her foot in it.
"What do you want me to wash it with?"
"Lick it clean."
"What?" He couldn't believe this was happening.
"Lick it clean, boy." She said. "You know you want to."
He didn't need to be told twice. He went after those toes like a
piece of meat, digging his tongue down into the little crevices while
Tori moaned and sighed.
Finally, she lifted him up on to her, giving him an ample taste of
those full lips.
"I imagined whem I was doing that shoot that maybe you were the
piglet, or maybe that I was." She pulled Brett's shirt over his head,
chomping at his nipples, which sang with electric glee. "I've had a lot
of girls before, and a lot of guys." She said. "But young guys always
please me the most. They want so much to make me happy."
"Yeah." Brett said, trying to catch his breath. "Oh yeah."
He head his pants unzip. He could feel the pressure of her hand and
the fabric of his underwear as she stroked his dick. She had his dick in
her hands now. She stroked it lightly, running a finger around the
glistening head.
"This deserves to be loved... to be worshipped." She said. In one
single, fluid movement,she shoved his dick up to her mouth and sucked it
in. He almost screamed with exhilleration as she coyed it with her
tongue and teeth.
"You're a virgin, aren't you?" She asked, letting his dick rest on
her chin.
"Yes." He said. "Oh yes."
"Then let's do this memorable, boy. LEt's do it on the floor."
She nimbly lept down, while he stumbled to the floor. She forced him
to a lying position, and filled his mouth with a tit. It was a
wonderful, soft texture, and a soft, perfumed flavor.
"Use your teeth." She said.
He nibbled first on all the tit he could fit into his mouth, and then
on the nipple. She gasped for air. Suddenly, her mouth was over his
dick again, pounding it in and out.
"Suck my feet." She gasped. "Lick my feet, you cock."
He did as he was told, lapping at her waiting toes like a dog.
Suddenly, his balls filled with fluid and he spewed all over her mouth.
He made it with Tori Amos.
She gathered him up in her arms and held him for a little while next
to her breast. Finally, she said she had to go. Reluctantly, he got
up, and watched the sacred bulk supporting his head walk towards the
door.
"Want to do it again later?" She asked.
"Yeah!" He replied as quickly as the words would get out of his
mouth.
"Good." She said. "Meet me at the Hilton. Room 302 at 8:00."

PART 2

Ms. Amos was already buck nude and waiting for Brett in the giant
suite. She instructed him to don the appropriate clothing (Being none.)
and to meet him in the bedroom.
Brett tore off his clothes, and walked towards the bedroom. As he
turned the knob, he was surprised to find it was locked. Was this some
sort of joke? Was Tori a man-hater after all?
"I've got a favor to ask you, Brett."
"Anything."
"I need you to turn me on."
"Sure!"
"I want you to make love to another person while I watch!"
Wow! Hadn't she said she was bi? He would get to make love to not
only her, but some other celebrity!
"Are we agreed?" She asked.
"Sure!" He insisted. She opened the door. Before him was a Brian, a
young coworker from the studio. He stared into Brian's equally confused
eyes.
"Go on." Tori said; "Get on the bed together."
Brett complied, climbing into bed. A wave of cold sweat passed over
him as he looked at the equally bewildered boy.
"Try holding hands first." Tori suggested; "Then kiss."
Experimentally, he put out his hand, which Brian took. My god, they
had worked together! This was happening to fast. Instinctively, he
kissed Brian's hand. OKay, no problem there. Slowly they moved
together, and kissed one another full on the lips. Fireworks. Their
mouths meshed, and their tongues tangoed between their throats. His
hands roamed over Brian's hips and buttocks. He bucked down and kissed
Brian's nipples, and swung himself back to massage Brian's feet. They
were perfect. Brian was tan, with small feet and tiny toes. In no
time, Brett was simulating with his mouth on Brian's big toe what he
wantd to do with his cock. Brian doubled over, placing passionate
kisses on Brett's asshole, dangling his tongue inside. Suddenly, things
became too hot, and the boys wrestled for dominance.
Brian, glorious, stuck his cock in front of Brett's mouth.
"Suck, you slut."
Brett examined the cock. It was slightly smallet than his own, but
not entirely unlike it. It was stiff, uncircumsized, and glistening at
the top with pre-cum. At its base was a little tuft of darkish-blond
pubic hair, just starting to grow.
Brett conceded and sucked in Brian's cock. It swelled up a bit in
his mouth, and though he wasn't expert, he could keep a decent rhythym
with his thrusts.
Suddenly, Brian pulled out, and, dabbing his prick with a bit of
vaseline at the edge of the bed, plunged into Brett's exposed ass.
"Oh yeah." Brett said as the joy filled him. "Fuck me. Sodomize
me."
Brian was only too happy to comply, riding him like a stallion. He
bent down, his thrusts becoming stronger and deeper. He bit into
Brett's neck as he fucked his virgin asshole. He grabbed on to Brett's
dick, jacking him off.
Brian looked over to see Tori, her legs spread apart, her hands
diddling deep in her firey bush.
Suddenly, Brian bucked and exploded deep inside Brett, and fell
forward on to his friend, exhausted. Tori climbed on to the bed, pulling
Brian's cock out of Brett's pink ass.
"Ah, is my little purple-headed soldier tired?" Tori asked. Her
tongue dipped out, and she licked the shit off his prick, and tarried
around his balls. With steady sureness, his dick began to rise.
"THere we go." Tori said. "Now, my boys, why not feed for a while
from mother Tori?"
She offered them her breasts, which they gladly took, one each. She
sighed as they sucked and nibbled, and guided each cock into her
glimmering cunt. It was a snug fit, but it was a good fuck.

  • More sex stories