Date: Sun, 1 Oct 2000 01:08:46 -0700
From: Terrie P Stentz <divakitt@juno.com>
Subject: Not Just Anyone (1/1)

	Hi all. Long time no see. I've been getting my inspiration back, I
think. It has eluded me of late. But the words come back to me. It all
comes back to me eventually. I feel so insanely cryptic tonight. Shit,
I'm feeling fucked up. Could be the case of Mountain Dew that I've had
today . . . actually, I'm not sure how many I've had so far. I'm thinking
that I'm somewhere around 10 or 11. Not that it really matters or that
you even care . . . I simply thought to explain myself.
	To my peeps. . . Ian, don't read this. Sarah, this one's for you baby!
It's a little more fucked up than you might like it (not quite True Love
style), but you've been begging me and pestering me and I love you for
it.

	Okay, this is a one time thing. There will be no sequels. There will be
no updates. This is just sex. If you like it good. If you don't fine. I
don't really care (TERRIE'S A LIAR! A BIG FAT LAIR! SHE LOOOVES
FEEDBACK!).

	All right . . . let me see if I remember how this goes. There's that
disclaimer thingy right? Woo, let me see if I can give it a go.
	DISCLAIMER: This is fake. It came straight from my fucked up head,
right this second. I don't know the hot bodies within, but if I did, let me
tell you I wouldn't be here. They aren't gay, and I wouldn't want them to
be, considering I'm a mostly straight female. So, if you take any part of
this story seriously . . . um, don't.
	(Okay, 'cause I don't want David to be upset with me, a little more
serious disclaimer will be inserted here: I don't know *NSYNC. They are
not gay to my knowledge. This is fiction. Don't stay here if you're A.)
Offended by homosexual anything B.) Too young to be reading this OR C.)
Not allowed to read this by local law. Otherwise, enjoy)

				   *****

	"Fuck me."
	"What!?"
	"I said 'fuck me.'"
	"No way!"
	"Why not?"
	"Because."
	"That's not a reason."
	"Yes, it is."
	"No, it isn't."
	"I'm not going to fuck you, Josh."
	"Why not?"
	"Because you're drunk. You don't really want to fuck *me.* You just want
to fuck."
	I stared at my best friend. Okay, so I was a *little* drunk, but that
didn't mean that I was stupid. I knew what I was talking about. I knew
what I was saying. What he said *was* partially right: I did want to
fuck, but not just anyone. I wanted to fuck him. I had for a long time. I
wanted to feel his lips pressed against mine. I wanted to feel his tongue
in my mouth. I wanted to feel his body beneath mine. I wanted to see his
eyes roll back in his head and I wanted to watch his eyelids squeeze shut
when he came. I wanted to feel his muscles quiver underneath me. I wanted
to fuck my best friend.
	"Yes, I do."
	He looked up at me.
	"No, you don't, Josh," he said shaking his head, then turning back to
the book which was propped up by his knees.
	We were sharing a hotel room. We always did. One hotel room, one
bathroom, two quantized beds, and a millibar. Justin sat on the right
side of the bed, like he always did (he always slept on the fucking right
side of the bed. He was so predictable sometimes), with his legs pulled
up to his chest, his book laying open, propped against his knees.
	I pushed myself up into a semi-sitting position from where I had been
laying, sprawled across the bed by his feet. Leaning onto one elbow, I
lifted my other hand, containing a bottle of Crown Royal, to my lips. The
amber colored liquid burned merrily on its way down my throat.
	"Who says I don't want to fuck you, Justin?" I asked him after
swallowing, swaying slightly in my half sitting position. He looked at me
over the edge of his godfather, reading glasses (not very many people
knew that Justin wore glasses. He didn't like them. He thought they made
him look like a dork. I thought they were cute. They made him look
smart). He sighed at me, turning his book over and setting it on the
nightstand. He flipped over onto his stomach, facing me, and took the
bottle of alcohol out of my hand. He took a long drink, wincing as the
whiskey scalded his throat.
	"Listen, Josh. I know you're lonely, but don't take it out on me. Go
find some hot girl down in the bar. I'm sure even in your condition you
could find someone decent," he said gasping at the intoxicating fumes of
the liquor.
	"Don't you want me, Justin?" I pouted, laying back down, so that I was
looking up into his bright blue eyes. He smiled that perfect smile at me
(the one where he shows, like, all of his teeth, and his lips look so
soft and inviting), and I couldn't help but wonder what he'd say if he
knew that I really did want to fuck him.
	"Josh, you're not gay," he laughed, his voice teasing.
	"How do you know?" I asked indignantly. He rolled his eyes.
	"Wouldn't you have told me before now?" he inquired. I reached for the
whiskey, but he pulled it away from me. "Or were you trying to drown your
sorrows before bitting the bullet?"
	I frowned. I didn't ask much of my roommate. Probably, because I didn't
want very much. But here's a few things that I *did* want right now:
		1.) I wanted Justin to stop asking so many God damned questions.
		2.) I wanted that whiskey.
		3.) And I wanted to fuck my best friend.
	And, yes, maybe I was slightly drunk, but I still knew what I wanted.
And, personally, I didn't think I was asking all that much.
	"Just fuck me. We can call it an experiment," I pleaded. Justin laughed.
	"Josh, go down to the bar and find some girl to "experiment" with," he
replied.
	"I don't want to a fuck some God damned woman, Justin. I want to fuck
you!" I yelled, sitting up onto my elbows again. I blinked twice, cursing
my slightly blurry vision. He stared back at me, shock painted all across
his face (almost like graffiti, my intoxicated mind thought). I glanced
down at his lips, slightly parted with surprise, and I couldn't help
myself. I licked my lips and leaned down, planting my lips roughly
against his, my hand tangled in his wild, curly hair, guiding his soft,
supple lips against mine. A whimper left his throat when my tongue dared
enter his mouth, dancing circles around his.
	I rolled him onto his back, climbing over so I knelt above him. I
continued my assault on his mouth. His hands timidly reached up, his
fingers just grazing my waist, but I understood the request. I slid down,
stretching my body out over the top of his, laying between his slightly
parted, scantly clad thighs, our chests pressed together. Mmm, it was
delicious. I moved my kisses down his cheek, taking them across his ear,
and down his neck. I sucked vehemently at the lower part of his neck, the
place where your neck and your shoulder meet. The gasp which escaped his
lips only aided my lust.
	I sat back, slipping my legs outside of his so that I could kneel above
him easily. I planted my butt firmly against his erection, smiling as he
moaned softly. I reached up, pulling his glasses gently off of his face,
I folded them up and deposited them onto the nightstand, next to his
book. I then reached down, pulling his soft, white undershirt easily over
his head. Tossing it carelessly to the side, I let my hands roam his
naked chest, running down his sides, then back up his stomach, across his
heaving chest. I let my fingers toy with his nipples, teasing them erect.
I leaned down taking on of the hard buds between my lips. I sucked
softly, running my tongue around it gently. I was surprised to feel
Justin's fingers tangle tightly in my hair.
	I made my way up his chest, kissing up his neck, across his Adam's
apple, until our lips finally met again. After a few moments, he pushed
me away, holding me slightly further than an arms length away, and we
studied each other for a few moments, before he took a shaky breath and
spoke.
	"So . . . do you really want to fuck me, Joshua?" he breathed, his words
unsteady, whether from lack of oxygen or from nervousness, I wasn't sure.
 Either way, I shook my head. I could see the hurt in his eyes and felt
the need to explain myself.
	"I could never fuck you, Justin," I told him. He tried to push me away
enough to sit up, but I wouldn't let him. I brought my hands to his face,
cupping his cheeks between my palms. I forced him to look into my eyes.
"I could make love to you though," I finished with a smile. I could see
the doubt wash out of his beautiful blue eyes, and all that was left was
an overwhelming mixture of love and lust.
	He pushed me off of him, rolling over on top of me this time. He
unbuttoned the few buttons I had carelessly thrown together, pushing the
black silk shirt off my shoulders. I helped slip my arms free of the soft
material, then brought them up to surround his shoulders, pulling him
down on top of me. He slid down between my legs, letting his fingers lace
behind my neck. I thrust up against him, feeling his hot erection through
the layers of fabric separating us. God, I wanted him so badly.
	I rolled us back over, placing me on the top, then moved down, hooking
my fingers into his boxer shorts, I pulled the soft, flannel material,
down, around his hips and off his body. I gave him no chance to respond
before I took his beautiful cock between my lips. Glancing up, I watched
his eyes grow wide, before squeezing shut, his mouth open, though no
sound escaped.
	I let my lips surround his throbbing dick, creating a suction I knew
would be just enough to make him feel crazy with desire, but not enough
to get him off anytime soon. My lips moved up and down, my tongue working
small patterns into the underside of his cock, the likes of which, I'm
sure he'd never experienced before. Let me tell you, the best head you'll
ever get, will be from another man.
	I removed my mouth from his penis long enough to wet my first two
fingers. As I slid my mouth back down his cock, I slipped one finger into
his tight hole. He moaned softly and I knew from experience that it was a
mixture of pleasure and discomfort, but as soon as my finger grazed his
prostate, the moan was nothing but pleasure. I slipped a second finger
into him, widening him a bit, although, it really wouldn't do a whole lot
of good. A dick is a lot bigger than two fingers.
	I slid my fingers out of him and pulled off his cock. Leaning back, I
slipped off my loose fitting black pants, along with my black
boxer-briefs, tossing them to the ground with the rest of our clothes. I
climbed back between his knees, kneeling over him. I gave him a bright
smile, hoping to ease the nervousness in his eyes.
	"Let me know if it hurts too bad okay?" I requested. He nodded slightly,
biting his lip. Leaning back onto my heels, I spat into my palm, rubbing
my saliva along my throbbing erection. I lifted Justin's legs slightly,
positioning the head of my dick at his entrance. I gave him one last
glance, making sure he was okay, before slipping the head of my cock into
him. He cried out sharply, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. I saw the
tears creep out the corners of his eyes.
	I leaned down over him, pressing my lips roughly against his, before
leaning up and kissing away his tears. I leaned close to his ear, giving
it a soft kiss, then speaking.
	"You can bite me, okay?" I told him. He laughed slightly, a short choked
laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. "No, really. I'm serious. Bite my
shoulder," I insisted. He nodded and leaned up, sinking his teeth into my
shoulder lightly. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded barely. So, I continued,
pushing more and more of my cock into him until the pain in my shoulder
was too much to bare. Then, I'd stop, and wait until he lightened the
pressure before continuing. Finally, I was all the way in, and I felt him
relax a little. I stayed still, being patient, waiting for Justin to
adjust to my size. I wanted him to enjoy this too. I suppose a waited a
little longer than necessary though, as he began wiggling beneath me.
	"You ready?" I asked him with a slight laugh. He nodded, grinning back.
I pressed my lips against his, pulling out slowly before, pushing myself
back in at just about the same pace. The tension in Justin's brow faded,
and I continued on, pulling out and pushing back in at a constant pace.
Justin's teeth came away from my shoulder, his lips moving up my neck and
across my cheek, to meet my own lips.
	"Jesus, Josh, you feel so good," he murmured against my lips, his words
interrupted by a soft grunt as I thrust into him. I smiled, feeling his
legs wrap around my waist. So sweet, so enthusiastic, so flexible. Damn,
I loved this boy.
	I moved faster, pounding into him now. He was so tight, all of him. His
arms tight around my shoulders. His legs tight around my waist. His ass
tight around my cock. His muscles quivered beneath his taught, tanned
skin. I tried to hold out. I tried to prolong things as much I could, but
when I felt Justin's warm cum spread between our bodies, and the muscles
in his ass spasm around my dick, I knew I wouldn't be able to last much
longer. And I was right. It was only a few seconds before I felt my
orgasm overtake me. I thrust into him as deep as I could, and let loose.
	I collapsed on top of him, catching my breath. After a moment, I pulled
out of him, climbing up so that we were laying sideways. I kissed away
the beads of sweat on his brow.
	"You're wonderful, Justin," I whispered, letting my kisses drift across
his face. He rolled away from me suddenly, sitting up on the edge of the
bed. I propped myself up on an elbow, watching his back curiously.
"Justin?" I inquired softly. I heard him sniffle quietly, and I quickly
moved over to the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms around him from
behind. He tried to shrug me off, but I held on tight.
	"Justin, baby, what's wrong?" I asked worriedly. I thought he'd wanted
that as much as I had. He'd consented. I thought he had enjoyed himself
even. He sniffled again, then took a shaky breath.
	"I . . . I don't want to be another fuck, Josh," he sobbed, the tears
streaming down his cheeks. I grabbed his face with my hand, turning him
to look at me. He tried to squirm away, but I held him steady.
	"Justin, baby . . . look at me . . . please?" I begged. He finally
looked up at me, his eyes red and, oh so sad. "Justin, you are not just
anyone to me," I told him. He sniffled, another tear rolling down the
path made by previous tears. I leaned forward and kissed it away softly.
	"W-well then, what am I to you?" he asked, his voice scared and quiet. I
thought for a moment, then smiled.
	"Special," I stated simply, then by way of explanation, "I love you."


					THE END . . .

	Tada, and there it is, the beginning of my refound inspiration.