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This
is a work of fiction, loosely based on the real person, Russell Crowe. No
insult or injury is intended, this story is for entertainment purposes only. This story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.
Fantasy
Revisited by: Darrin Lee Hutton ©03/2003 You're at a concert in your hometown (and no, it's not a TOFOG concert - just some other favorite local band you like )... it's at a small club/hole-in-the-wall type place. The band is between sets, so you go up to the bar to get another drink. You're there with a couple of your friends, but they all decided to leave early, so you're now alone. You're dressed very casually, since you weren't there to pick up guys - just blue jeans, t-shirt.
So,
you go up to the bar, order a beer (or whatever you like to drink). The bar is
pretty crowded, and as you stand there drinking you suddenly feel someone bump
into you, causing you to spill your drink. Angrily, you turn around to give
whoever a tongue lashing, when to your surprise (and delight) you find yourself
face-to-face with none other than a very apologetic (and downright gorgeous!)
Russell Crowe. So you...
“Russell
goddam fucking Crowe,” I say, just a tad peeved.
It’s not my best outfit, but hell, vodka ain’t exactly easy to get out. “Hey,
luv, no worries, let me get you another drink.”
He motions to the bartender and soon enough there is a fresh vodka tonic
in front of me, and a Shiner in front of him.
Meanwhile, he has been “helping” me mop up the mess. “Hey,
there’s no vodka there, mate,” I say firmly. Truth
be told, though, I’m already a tad heated from his ministrations. His
giggle gives me butterflies, but I try to maintain my composure. “Sorry,
luv, thought it spilt a bit further down than it did, I guess.” “Uh
huh.” “So,
you like these guys? Or are ya here
for another purpose?” “My
sister’s the lead singer, I’m supporting her.” “Good
onya, luv. She’s a fair talent.
Kinda reminds me of someone I just did a duet with.” “Yeah,
we’re still waiting on your next album. What
gives with all the delays?” “You
wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” “Bet
I would.” “Seriously,
luv. Long story.
Don’t feel like talking about it.” “I
can respect that. So what are you
doing in town?” “Post-production.” “Ah,
the life of the jet-setting Lord of Lust. How
fun for you.” He
splutters into his beer. My turn to
mop him up. “Hey,
there’s no beer there, luv.” I
giggle. He laughs with me and takes
hold of my hand, returning it to where I was drying him off.
“Well, maybe a little spilled there.” “Nothing
little ever saw it’s way to that
part of you,” I say breathlessly. ‘Kay,
he was getting to me after all. “Yer
not one of those barmy sheilas, are
ya?” His eyes are pleading with me
to say “no”. “No,
I’m not. But you are one fucking
gorgeous hunk of male and as a woman, I appreciate you.
Got a problem with that, Crowe?” I give him a snarky grin, daring him
to join me in my game. He
does. “No
problem at all, luv. I respect your
right to enjoy the male species as you see fit.” “Just
so,” I reply. And
I feel the mood shift slightly. Like
now that we’re respecting the hell out of each other, it’s okay to flirt
outrageously. “So
how deep does your appreciation of, uh, me
go, luv?” “You
know that diamond mine in He
laughs very loudly. “That
deep, huh?” “Probably
a tad deeper.” He
gets serious and leans in to whisper in my ear.
Shivers run down my spine as I hear, “Wanna find out just how
deep, luv?” Bet yer
fuckin’ ass, I do,
I think to myself. Aloud, I say,
“Sure. I’m not busy right
now.” “Snarky
little shit, aren’t you?” I
grin. “You have no
idea.” I
see an appreciation in his eyes that I’m not falling to my knees to suck him
off right there in the bar. An
appreciation for the fact that I’m treating him like just another bloke,
fucking gorgeous, but a bloke all the same. “My
car’s outside.” “’Kay.” We
walk out of the bar and get into his SUV. Before
you can say “Bob’s yer Uncle” we’re at a nearby hotel and heading to the
Penthouse Suite on the top floor. My
heart, were it pounding any harder, would be audible.
I’m finding it difficult to breathe.
Even more so when he leans me up against the elevator’s wall and kisses
me soundly. Five alarm stunner?
Shit, call the entire LAFD’s battalion.
I’m in trouble. The
elevator doors open and he propels me towards his suite’s doors.
He barely gets the keycard in the slot and us inside before we’re
tearing at each other’s clothing. Pushing
me up against the door, he undoes my bra and lets out a relieved sigh as he
continues kissing me and massaging my breasts. Fuck
me swingin’. Holy Hanna.
Russell goddam fucking Crowe. I
hear his rumbling growl in my ear, “I’m gonna fuckin’ do you right
here,” he says menacingly. “’Kay.” “Agreeable
snarky little shit. I like that in a
sheila.” “There
goes all that respect I was hoping to retain for the morning,” I pant out. He
gives me a look, then laughs. I’m
torn between loving the laugh and aching for the menacing growl.
What a devilishly dichotomous man. His
hands push my jeans down along with my panties and I reach for his fly, undoing
it hurriedly. Fuck romance, I need
that cock. And
oh my fucking Christ, he’s in me up
to his root right there against the door, fucking pounding me so hard I can’t
breathe, can’t think, just open to him, just fucking taking him, oh fuck! “Bleedin’
Christ, you’re wet,” he grunts in my ear. I
can only moan. Loudly. “Any
sheila who wants me this much deserves more than a rooting against a hotel room
door,” he says and with heated groan he pulls out of me. I
yelp. “Shh,
it’s all right, luv.” He picks
me up and carries me to the bedroom. He
throws the comforter and sheet aside and crawls with me in his arms into the
bed, placing me gently in the middle of it.
He pushes my legs towards my chest and thrusts in again.
Harsh and driven, he ruts into me, still heated, still rooting me and
fucking me raw, but there’s a different feel to it.
I don’t care what it is. That
cock is taking all my focus. I
come hard around him, squeezing him until he groans loudly.
He slows down. In.
Harsh breaths. Out.
Long sighs. In.
Soft whisper, “Come again, luv.”
Out. Loud whimper.
In. “Just for me, luv,”
growling in my ear. Out.
“Oh Christ!” And
I come, just for him as asked, as he thrusts in again, ramping up his speed,
fucking me harder, now wanting his own release.
Pulling me up onto his lap, driving into me as he pulls at my hips.
I’m trying desperately to keep up, riding him hard, sweat pouring down
both our bodies. With a rough grunt
he comes. Shooting jets of what
feels like molten lava, hit the back of my womb as I clutch at him desperately
with my arms and my cunt. “Fuck!
Christ! Fuck, yes!” he
cries out amidst my loud moans. We
collapse back onto the bed, completely out of breath.
As my eyes close, he whispers, “Don’t sleep, baby, I’m gonna need
you again in a few.” Russell goddam fucking Crowe.
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