Celebrity Juices: Holly Quinn & Maleficent
Celebrity Juices: Holly Quinn & Maleficent
Disclaimer: This is a fictional story for adult entertainment purposes.
Now, to the story...
Standing in her private dressing room at the ITV studios, Holly Willoughby was preparing to record the annual Halloween episode of Celebrity Juice. After the recent release of the Suicide Squad movie, she'd made the decision to dress as Harley Quinn. Having seen the film, she'd loved how sexy Margot Robbie looked, and was excited to dress in the same way tonight.
Hair gathered in twin bunches, the ends were dyed red and blue. Matching eye makeup had been applied as well as a rich red lipstick, enhancing an already beautiful face. Getting dressed, the TV presenter had put on a thong of red satin, the tiny underwear pulled tight over an already damp twat. Cradling the impressive bust was a matching bra, pushing the feminine charms together and up. Covering her legs was a pair of fishnet tights. Crotchless, they perfectly framed the thong.
Over the top a "Daddy's Lil Monster" t-shirt had been donned. One size too small, it clung tightly to Holly's chest, enhancing their voluptuous form. Disappointed she couldn't find a pair of shorts just like those in the movie, the former model had chosen a pair of denim shorts, dyed one half red the other blue to match her inspiration. However, they were exceptionally tight, figure-hugging. As the short lacing in the front had been pulled closed, they'd drawn the shorts tight to the woman's crotch, forming a salacious camel toe. They also clung to her shapely backside, pulling taut over the wonderful buttocks, especially whenever she bent down.
Although she really wanted to wear high heels, the reality of playing games on the show meant she'd had to put on a pair of black Sketchers. Around each wrist were wide purple bracelets and circling her neck was a large choker, the word "Puddin" displayed. A studded belt sat on her hips.
'Fuck, I feel fucking sexy,' the blonde said, a little slurred, as she admired herself in a full-length mirror. Every way she turned, the outfit hugged her womanly form, exaggerating her curves. In her hand was a glass a vodka. Something of a routine now, Holly enjoyed a tipple or three before recording Celebrity Juice; a little Dutch courage to loosen her up for the suggestive show. Alcohol combining with a growing arousal, Ms Willoughby had a good buzz going.
Downing the remainder of her drink, she was fascinated by the movement of her bosom. Shoulders pulling back, she giggled as the mirror showed her boobs rising higher, jutting forward against the restraining t-shirt.
'Daddy's lil slut, more like,' she giggled again to herself.
Dropping the strong vodka onto a table, nearly knocking it onto the floor in the process, Holly continued to admire her reflection. Slowly twisting and turning before the mirror, one hand cupped a full breast, fingers gently digging into the pliant flesh beneath. The other made its way to her crotch, a finger tracing the route of the camel toe. Back and forth, the digit slid along the grove, stimulating the moistening slit with increasing pressure.
'Ooh, that feels nice,' she murmured, letting out a hot gasp as the long manicured finger curled against her covered clity.
Suddenly the door burst open. Standing in the portal was Fearne Cotton, Holly's best friend and captain of the show's opposing team. Seeing what was going on, the daintier blonde quickly stepped into the room, hurriedly shutting the door behind.
Dressed for the Halloween episode, Fearne was also wearing a movie inspired outfit: Maleficent. From neck to ankle she wore a long black dress of faux leather featuring pairs of oversized twin lapels and large bell sleeves. Cinched at the waist it positively emphasised her smaller hips and bust, the former peaking from a plunging neckline. Atop slicked back hair was a skullcap in black sporting two long horns. Strappy heels shod her feet. Cosmetics had been applied to make her fair skin appear paler, the effect enhanced by dark eyes and luscious red lipstick.
'Jesus, Holly, you don't have time for that,' she proclaimed, watching her friend play with herself. 'Come on, we're wanted on stage.'
'Fearne!' exclaimed Holly. Spinning away from the mirror and turning to the visitor, she wrapped the flaxen beauty in a warm hug, planting a kiss on her cheek. Taking a step back she took in the figure before her. 'You look amazing! Wow, you look so sexy tonight!'
'Thanks, Hols,' the radio host replied. It was clear how sauced her BFF was. When her cheek was kissed, she'd easily picked up the smell of vodka. 'You're drunk,' she added a little exasperated. Although she found "Drunk Holly" to be a great laugh and fun to be around, Fearne had readily seen in the mirror she was also feeling frisky. Drunk Holly and Frisky Holly. Great. Throughout the years, Fearne had found herself having to intercede when her friend was both tipsy and horny, saving her from wrecking her public image on numerous occasions.
'Yup. And I'll let you into a little secret. I'm really horny tonight,' she revealed the obvious secret. 'See?' she added. Trying to point out the stiff nipples poking through her tight clothing, her fingers actually pressed them, obscuring the hard teats. Holly giggled.
'And why are you horny?' Fearne asked in a put-upon tone. It's going to be a long night.
'I feel so sexy! Don't you think I look hot like this?' Holly asked, drunkenly twirling around so her guest could take in the outfit stretched over her curvy body. Fearne nodded, unable to deny it. 'I've been looking forward to wearing this,' the inebriated blonde continued. 'And I've been wet all day,' she stage whispered, eyes flashing wide at the admission. Crossing to a pile of clothing carelessly left on a chair, she pulled out a pair of purple panties. Chucking them across the room, she said, 'Check those out.'
Automatically snatching the underwear out of the air, the other blonde looked at the gusset. An abundance of female fluid covered the cotton panel, the creamy-looking substance encrusting the inset. Jesus.
'Want to know something else?' Holly slurred.
'Go on,' Fearne replied, knowing that going along with her friend was the quickest way of getting her out of the dressing room and onto the stage for the evening's show.
Again the statuesque starlet reached down to the chair. Under the clothes sat an open bag. Reaching in, she withdrew something small and rounded. Open hand held out, she revealed what it was.
'A love egg,' Fearne identified the white plastic object. 'They come in packs of two usually, don't they?' After a brief moment, realisation set in. 'Let me guess. You've stuffed the other one up your minge.'
'Yup. And it feels fucking amazing! Here, you take this one.' Looking at the proffered toy, the DJ wasn't sure how to reply. Despite the headaches protecting Drunk/Frisky Holly could present, she also got Fearne hot. Under her dress, inside the black latex panties she'd chosen to wear tonight, a low throbbing made its presence felt, partnered with a sexual warmth. Shifting on her heels, she also felt a certain dampness against the rubberised underwear.
A sudden knock rattled the door. 'Ms Willoughby? You're wanted on stage. They're ready to go.' It was the voice of the floor manager.
'Be right there,' Holly called. Attention returning to her visitor she said, 'Here, let me.'
Dropping to her knees in front of her friend, Holly grabbed the hem of the dark dress and raised it up. Despite its heavy appearance, the garment moved easily enough. Looking under the woman's skirt revealed a pair of seamed stockings, the nylon a second skin to the shapely pins, ending in lacy tops. Above a short expanse of inner thigh was a pair of black latex butterfly briefs. Fearne had rather large labia, giving her pussy a full rounded outline, an outline the tight undergarments snuggled up against and bulged around.
Slipping fingers into the briefs, the flesh of a cleanly shaven snatch teased them as Holly pulled the knickers aside. Between thumb and forefinger, the kneeling woman parted the long pussy lips, felt a slick varnish. Love egg tucked in the palm of her other hand, slowly Holly slid a finger into her friend. Giggling once more, she savoured the enwrapping clasp of the sweet tight hole, the warm moist passage welcoming the intrusion.
A few gentle pushes had the finger was buried to the third knuckle. Making tiny circles, Holly stimulated the delicate membranes, stirred up the feminine honey. Withdrawing the finger, the love egg was switched on, the little toy buzzing away as it was positioned at the glossy opening. Pressing from below, the orb slipped inside. Easing the hanging labia closed with her other hand, the tipsy model ensured the egg was well seated. Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on the fleshy lips, inhaled the sweet fragrance surrounding them.
Tugging the panties into place and pulling the dress back down, This Morning's anchor remained on her knees, looking up at her friend. Tongue moving slowly, sensuously, she licked up the juices gathered on her fingers, smouldering eyes locked on Fearne's. 'All done,' she beamed once she'd finished.
Jesus, she's horny tonight, thought Fearne. Dammit, I'm not far behind, she silently added, feeling the little toy vibrating strongly inside.
'Come on, we've got a show to do,' a blushing Ms Cotton said, helping the other woman to her feet.
'Hang on,' Holly said. 'I'm not ready.' From the pile of clothes she scooped up a small jacket, half red, half blue, wide gold trim down the sleeves. Throwing the garment on, she also retrieved a single glove, red and blue just like the rest of the costume.
'Ready now?'
Looking around, Holly was searching for something. 'Ah, there you are,' she purred stepping to the end of a long white sofa pushed up against one wall. Bending over to pick the object up, the clinging shorts pulled taut over firm buttocks, camel toe deepening. Straightening up she presented a large rubber baseball bat, the final accoutrement to the evening's getup.
'That looks like one of Keith's sex toys,' Fearne burst out laughing.
Lifting the end of the large rubber toy to her face, Holly sniffed. 'Nope, he's not used it yet,' she said laughing.
'You might want to put these away,' Fearne said handing over the dirty knickers that had been thrown to her. 'If Keith gets in here he'll pinch them.'
'Wouldn't he just,' the buxom drunk laughed. Rather than tucking them in her bag, she slipped the used undies into her jacket. Hearing the noise of the audience beginning to fill the building, Holly said, 'Better go. Showtime!'
Guiding her friend out onto the Celebrity Juice stage, the BBC radio host couldn't help but admire the full backside swaying in the ever-so-tight shorts. When Holly turned to give her a smile, her breasts were perfectly outlined, their shape glorious under the clinging t-shirt. It was a sight soon enjoyed by the baying audience as Keith Lemon introduced himself, the team captains and the contestants.
For his Halloween costume, the show's presenter was dressed as the Australian singer, Sia. Wearing only a single garment, it was a large white dress. Buttoned down the front, it reached to his knobbly knees, billowing widely in the process. Perched on his head was a large wig, the bangs hanging down to cover his face. One side of the hairpiece was black, the other white. Atop this sat a ridiculously oversized white bow.
Unable to help herself, especially in her stupored condition, the faux Harley Quinn was wiggling and twisting around the stage, flinging her rubber bat around as she played up to the crowd. Obviously enjoying herself, it was clear to Fearne that Ms Willoughby was turned on by the attention, not to mention the little devil of an egg stuffed up her twat, buzzing away just like its twin was doing inside Fearne herself.
Amongst the guests lined up on the stage, she felt sexy in her dark costume. Loving the appearance the makeup had rendered of her features, she felt seductive, powerful. Although Holly was getting the lion's share of attention, Fearne wasn't without compliment. Numerous wolf whistles came her way, leering eyes roaming all over. If they could see what I've got on under this dress, she thought, considering the sultry stockings, slutty latex panties and the peep-hole bra, also in black latex.
Although the unusual choice of knickers was something she'd always been tempted to try, she had to admit that wearing them tonight may not have been the best idea. With the egg working its magic, Fearne's pussy was drooling, literally. Moving to take the captain's chair, she could feel hot sticky juices gathering in the briefs. With no cotton gusset to soak up the discharge, it was spreading about, coating the smooth material and Fearne's crotch, smearing against the shaved snatch. It excited her.
'Let's meet our team captains. First of all, it's Holly Willough-boozy!' Keith Lemon played to the crowd and the recording cameras.
Seated behind the team desk, the tipsy star waved at the camera. Recalling something from the Suicide Squad movie, she grabbed up the rubber baseball bat she'd brought along. Raising it to her shoulder and looking down its length as if it were a rifle, her gloved hand slid along the soft surface, like she was pumping a pump-action shotgun. Fingers moving on the rubber surface, she realised it felt like one of her dildos, but an exceptionally large one. Inside her thong womanly sap bubbled out from her twitching sex, urged on by salacious thoughts taking root in her mind, the big toy in her hand and the little vibrating egg within.
'Or should I say aka, Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad,' Keith amended.
'No, I'm Holly Quinn,' she answered back with a sloppy salute to the camera.
'Do a split-screen. Down camera two, Holly,' the show's host said. 'I know you're pissed,' he clarified.
'I a little bit...I'm a little but...' Holly couldn't get the words out, befuddled by the vodka drunken earlier and the effects of the egg. Ripples of delight coursed through her dripping fanny. 'I'm gonna take this jacket off,' she said, feeling hot from more than just the studio lighting.
'You can take off whatever you like,' Keith declared, half joking, half lecherous.
Knowing the camera would be focused entirely on her at that moment, the beautiful model pulled the jacket from her shoulders. In doing so, Holly made sure to thrust her chest out towards the zooming camera and the studio audience beyond. The home audience is gonna like that as well, she thought, pulling the jacket off and further pushing out her bosom. A twinge made her pussy contract, caused by her salacious actions.
As the other guests were introduced, Holly couldn't help but continue to play to the audience. Plenty of the male attention remained on her, as did a proportion of the females. Blatantly looking out at the stacked rows of people, eyes looked back at her hungrily. It was like something out of a survival movie, the eyes of predators peering at a lone victim from the dark. An exciting tingle ran down her spine, causing her back to arch. I'm really fucking horny tonight.
The first game was called and involved fly-tipping. One of the contestants on Fearne's team was tasked with dragging a dirty mattress outside the studio. He had to find a wall and throw the bedding over it. Appearing from behind the studio cameras came the stage manager.
'Holly, could you move your bat? The cameras are catching it,' he said, leaning over to speak to her. As he did so, it was obvious he was taking a good look at her chest, enjoying the view even without the usual cleavage.
'Of course, not a problem,' she replied with a deliberate jiggle.
Atop the table were her jacket and the bat. Picking up the red and blue garment, it was quickly draped over the back of her seat. Bat in hand, she wondered what to do with it. Dropping it under the desk was the only real option. Gripping the thicker end, she was once more came to the realisation that it greatly resembled a large dildo. A very large dildo.
Teammates distracted by the action on their monitor, watching the contestant playing outside the studio, Holly moved her sports bat under the desk. Bracing the small end against the bottom of the privacy panel, she positioned the thicker cap at her crotch. Scooching her seat closer, the rubber implement impacted her tightly clothed fanny. 'Ooh,' the blonde mumbled, managing to make it appear to be a reaction to the activity on the screen.
Adjusting her position settled the bat against her heated cunny, the wide end pressuring her sweltering cleft and stiff clitoris. Wriggling about in her chair enabled Holly to grind against the toy. Delicious frissons of pleasure encompassed her female groove, sending sparkles racing along her spine and limbs. Standing proud against her tight t-shirt, her nipples were hard. Thighs closing around the rubber shaft, the sexpot could control where the rougher edge of the bat touched her, allowing Ms Willoughby to masturbate on national TV without anyone being any the wiser.
As the evening drew on it became harder for the broadcaster to concentrate on the games. Arousal and drunkenness was a powerful concoction, loosening inhibitions as well as her ability to play. Usually a gamer intent on winning, Holly quickly crashed out of the next game, "Don't Show Keith Your Teeth". Grinding against the rubber pole under the desk, humping her aching little bud against it, Holly was creaming her knickers. A rich gush of scented honey soaked the satin thong. When Keith called her name, the team captain accidentally flashed her white teeth, bright against her red lipstick.
Ooh, it doesn't matter, she thought as a small orgasm stole over her. Cumming is always better than winning anyhow. Reaching under the table her fingers wrapped around the rubber toy as much as they could. Holding it at the right angle allowed her to grind the harder edge directly against her clit, drawing out the climax. Convulsions rippled along her birth canal, forcing another trickle of cum into sodden panties.
"Haunted Corridor" was the next game for the teams to have a go at. After a contestant from Fearne's team had a turn, Keith called on Holly. Believing she hated the dark, was scared of being alone when everything was pitch black or spooky, he thought it would be a good laugh. Stepping off the Celebrity Juice stage, the comely vixen made her way backstage to a corridor darkly lit in red. The hallway was full of shadows, cobwebs strung from the ceiling. Doorways were darkened, where anything could be hiding. Only a single cameraman accompanied the team captain.
'Ah shit! Hold up, Ms Willoughby,' the camera operator said. 'There's an issue with the cabling. Caught up somewhere. We'll need to run a new one.'
'Tim,' greeted the voice of the floor manager, a spool of cable in his hands. 'Ms Willoughby,' he added with a nod. 'Tim, plug this into your camera, would you,' he said, handing off the reel. As he spoke his eyes remained on the British star, once more drinking in the curves of her luscious body.
Eyes of a predator, thought the TV host. A delicious tingle of frightened excitement made its way along her spine. To her disappointment, the floor manager retook the spool and walked off, reeling it out as he went.
'Shouldn't be long,' the cameraman reassured, putting the bulky recording equipment on the corridor floor. 'You look hot tonight, Ms Willoughby. Very sexy,' he said abruptly.
Casually reaching out, he placed his large hand on the buxom chest. Fingers pressing into the pliant female mound, he groped the celebrity through the stretched t-shirt. While his hand switched to the other tit, his free hand slapped her rounded ass, the clap of the sudden contact resounding down the enclosed passage of the corridor. It was well known on the production that Holly Willoughby was a "good time girl", and would let you get away with all sorts of things. All you had to do was catch her when she was in the mood which usually involved her being sauced. Just like now. There was a reason why the woman's dressing room was always well stocked with booze.
Painted eyes closed, red lips slightly parted, the blonde stood still, letting the man whose name she couldn't recall grope her. Hands by her sides, she didn't object as his roamed over her body, exploring and squeezing arse and boobs. Identifying stiff nipples through the costume, fingers pressed them, one at a time. As if he were trying to ring a doorbell he pushed them into the warm pliant flesh of Ms Willoughby's glorious knockers.
Sliding down and behind, the other hand cupped the cheeks of the heart-shaped rear, gliding from one to the other. Forced to squeeze harder due to the shorts the sexy minx wore, the fingers pinched the firm backside and followed the lush curvature. Moving to the hidden butt crack, a finger aggressively traced along the crevice.
A low hot moan rolled around the woman's throat. 'Feel my pussy. Please,' she murmured, enjoying being touched up by a near stranger.
Only too happy to oblige, the cameraman's hand fell from Holly's boobs, ran over the undulating tautness of her flat stomach. Skipping over the studded belt, the rough fingers quickly found the woman's camel toe, the shorts seemingly sucked in by the wanton slit beneath. A definite heat greeted the groping touch, Holly's hips humping forward, trying to strengthen the contact.
'You feeling hot tonight, Ms Willoughby?' the man asked in a knowing tone as he continued the molestation.
'God, yes. Keep touching me. Yes, like that. Yes. Mm, finger me.' The words came out breathy, searing in their sexual demand. Holly was indeed feeling hot tonight, libido only encouraged by the earlier orgasm. Unknown to the man, his pressing was driving the woman's g-spot into sharper contact with the ever buzzing love egg. Feels so good.
Left hand changing from ass to tit, squeezing the bountiful bust, the other worked the panting woman's crotch, fingers pressing harder along the twitching minge. Unskilled in his own excitement, the man repeated his doorbell technique. Fingers reaching the top of the enticing crease in the clinging shorts, he would press against the blonde's erect clit, somehow managing to hit the right spot. And each time he was rewarded by another lustful moan. Further down, he would dig into the camel toe, following the increasing heat indicating the entrance to her sex.
Letting her hand wander it quickly brushed against a tell-tale bulge. Flipping over, the long fingers of Holly's hand traced the outline of the concealed erection, taking the measure of the endowment. Satisfied with the discovery, the fingers curled around the protuberance, squeezing the rigid pole through the man's trousers.
'Yeah,' the guy hissed as he was now groped. Although he'd worked on Celebrity Juice for a long time, this was the first opportunity he'd had to get with the "good time girl". Part of him had been positive the other guys had been full of shit, their stories of taking the golden-haired slut nothing more than BS. Turns out its true. "You want that dick, Ms Willoughby? Maybe you want to put it in your sexy little mouth? Maybe your tight little box?"
"I..." A squawk from the radio at the crewmember's waist interrupted the reply. Reluctantly he had to stop groping the hot bint.
'Yeah?' he asked into the walkie-talkie. 'Oh, ok. Alright.' The radio clicked off. 'Fuck,' he added under his breath. 'They're ready in the control room, Ms Willoughby,' he told the panting celebrity, his hand reluctantly falling away from the generous tits after one last squeeze. Opportunity gone, he thought. Retrieving his equipment from the floor he hoisted it onto his shoulder. 'Are you ready?'
'Mm, okay,' she said, just as disappointed at the interruption. Things were just getting interesting.
With the cabling issue sorted out, the game of "Haunted Corridor" commenced. Gingerly making her way down the red-lit space, back to the wall, the TV star tried to look out for jump scares as much as she tried to ignore the itchy wetness permeating her sodden thong. She'd enjoyed being touched but had been left feeling frustrated.
'What the fuck are you doing?' she squealed as a midget dressed in white came out of nowhere, making her jump. Progressing along the corridor there was another attempt at a jump scare. This time a tall grim reaper failed to surprise her. Most of her attention was taken up by the pulsing heat between her legs. Christ, I need a good hard shag.
Moments later the captain re-joined her team. Settling back on her chair, she considered replacing the rubber baseball bat against her steamy crotch, wanting to grind against it some more. However, the next game was called.
"Shouting One Out" was the next contest. A series of three toilet stalls were rolled onto the stage. Each stall featured a porcelain commode. There were no doors, ensuring the audience could see the teams seated on the bogs. The aim of the game was to pass along a message from Keith Lemon. Glory holes were cut in the plywood partitions, allowing the contestants to pass the message down the line. In the meantime Keith would run to stand behind the last wall to receive the message back. Each contestant wore sound-cancelling headphones, music blaring in their ears so they couldn't actually hear the message to begin with. Instead they had to rely solely on lip reading skills.
Often suggestive, if not outright salacious, the messages were humorous, but never arrived intact. Instead garbled communications would be returned, baring little similarity to the original. It was a fun game, made all the more entertaining by the celebrities having to sit on the toilets, underwear wrapped around their knees or ankles.
Getting up to take her place in the stalls, an idea came to Holly. Tucked away in her jacket were the purple knickers she'd worn for most of the day. Crusty panties, she thought, devilish glint in her blue eyes. Quickly pulling the underwear from the jacket she walked out onto the stage. Directed to the middle stall, the inebriated star took her place. Where the others pulled on garments provided by the wardrobe department, Holly Willoughby pulled up the encrusted briefs. Letting them hang around her knees, she sat on the commode, put on the headphones and waited for the game to begin.
Music blaring in the headset, waiting for the game to finish setting up, her mind wandered. Sitting on the toilet in front of a full audience she began to feel hot again. Beneath her seated body, the red thong she wore was glued to her furry snatch, an abundance of womanly cream filling the soggy gusset. Something of an exhibitionist, although curtailed by the need to protect her public image, she fantasised what it would feel like if she were to pull down her tight little shorts and have a piss right there, right in front of everyone and the watching cameras. Jesus, that's nasty. But that would be so amazing, she thought, no stranger to pee games away from the cameras. Hell, I've wet myself on the show before. During previous episodes of Celebrity Juice, on a couple of occasions, a few drops of pee had escaped her bladder as she partook in some highly entertaining and physical games.
Turned on once more, the golden temptress couldn't help herself. Knees tightly pressed together, her thighs worked against one another, lean muscles flexing and relaxing in synch. Clenching and unclenching her firm arse in time with her legs, Holly was able to massage her seated cunny, putting a wonderful pressure on her swollen vulva, which in turn worked the sensitive bud under its protective hood. At the same time she was able to manipulate her pelvic floor, pressing around the hard egg-shaped vibrator she'd inserted earlier in the evening. I'm such a slut, she thought, masturbating on stage in front of everyone.
'You doin' a piss?' asked Joey Essex, the teammate situated in the first cubicle. Peering through the glory hole he could see the team captain squirming but was too dumb to realise what was actually happening next to him.
'Yup,' Holly answered, her lip reading skills up to the task of understanding the question.
Watching from behind her own team's desk, Fearne Cotton was familiar enough with her friend to realise what was going on. Right there! Fucking trollop, she thought with a chuckle. Tucked up inside her juicing quim, her own vibrating egg continued to keep her in a heightened state of arousal. But at least I'd fight the temptation, she believed. However, watching as Holly essentially played with herself on the stage, the thought of doing the exact same thing left Fearne feeling all the hotter.
In the meantime the first round of the game had concluded. With the message having partially survived its travel through the glory holes Holly's team was awarded points. Still perched on the porcelain bowl, panties around her knees, the sexy exhibitionist smirked at the camera, managing a seated curtsy. Very deliberately she pushed the purple briefs down, ensuring the crotch was trapped between her calves. Turning inside out as they were drawn further down, the gusset and its crusty contents were briefly exposed for all to see. The smirk remained on Holly Quinn's face the entire time, knowing exactly what she was doing, excited by the nasty salacious act.
Now her team's turn, Fearne led them to the stalls. Taking the middle cubicle, she half expected to smell Holly's pussy in the enclosed space. Did she even manage to cum? Unlike her mate, a clean pair of knickers was wrapped around her ankles. As the game commenced she was inexplicably tempted to follow Holly's example.
Shifting around on the toilet, pretending to bop to the music playing over the insulated cans, the radio host rhythmically squeezed her thighs. However, she couldn't manage to get the desired pressure. Rather than give up, she changed tactic, unknowingly mimicking the bustier blonde. Having good control of her pelvic muscles, she was able to squeeze the little round object in a slick velvety grip. Fuck, that feels nice. Aided by its positioning and her contracting muscles, the insistent vibrations were perfectly placed to stimulate both g-spot and clitoris.
A rush of heat grew between Fearne's clenched thighs, accompanied by a powerful throbbing rebounding through her entire crotch. Managing to maintain an outwardly calm exterior, she was seething within. So close to climax, her pleasure was brought up short by the game. Not willing to let anyone in on her secret, Fearne relaxed her muscles and the pressure surrounding the devilish plastic orb torturing her. Diminishing the intimate contact allowed the slim lady to concentrate on the game and hide her sexual activity.
It was a lost cause though. The message relayed back to Keith was nothing like the original. No points were awarded to the team and they returned to their desk as the prop toilet stalls were rolled off stage.
With the completion of the final game the show came to a close. From his personalised desk situated between the two teams, Keith Lemon did his usual shtick of teasing Ms Cotton with a win before announcing that Holly's team were in fact on top. As the winning scores were called out, Holly was waving the rubber baseball bat around, delighting in yet another victory. However, the smile on her face was only partly due to the win.
Held in her grasp, she was once again reminded of just how much it resembled an obscenely sized dildo. Under her hands the rubber felt like a dong and the distinctive smell was exactly the same. All night long she'd felt horny, the orgasm she'd experienced had been nice but she desired more. Swinging the rubber toy about left behind images of large cocks, cocks she wanted in her mouth, wanted fucking her hard.
God, I want dick, she decided. Leaving the Celebrity Juice set behind, Ms Willoughby went looking for some.
Not having noticed her best mate disappearing, Fearne Cotton was about to leave the set to check on her. Knowing Holly was horny, there was a need to ensure she wasn't caught doing anything that would jeopardise her public image and career. But something stole her attention: Keith was trying to break away from the other guests and it was clear he wanted to get to the desk of Holly's team.
Suspicious of the ginger top's intentions, Maleficent beat him to it. Lying atop the desk and draped over the monitor were the used purple panties made funky and crusty by Holly's overactive fanny. Pervert, thought Fearne, knowing the show's host likely intended to make a grab for the underwear. Subverting his plans, she scooped them up before he could. She then went in search of Holly Quinn.
After checking the green room where guests and crew were partying, and then the dressing room and finding it empty, Holly's whereabouts remained a mystery. Passing down the still red-lit corridor, ducking past synthetic cobwebs, a noise took Fearne's attention. Turning a corner she found her friend, and she wasn't alone.
Partially hidden under a flight of stairs the golden-haired beauty's arms were wrapped around a guy's shoulders, aggressively snogging him. For his part the guy was groping Holly, one hand holding her close to his larger frame, squashing her large boobs against his chest. The other was cupping and fondling the pert ass through the too-tight shorts. Heads moving side-to-side, Fearne could see their tongues dipping into each other's mouth, the agile appendages tangling around the other. In the enclosed space under the stairs the sound of kissing was loud, wet smacking noises as they made out.
'I'm gonna suck your cock,' the tipsy costumed model said breaking their snog.
'Yeah, go for it,' the man said. Fearne recognised the cameraman, Tim Parker.
Falling to her knees, Holly knelt before the guy she barely knew. Manicured fingers pinched the zipper, pulling it down. After a bit of fumbling the jeans were unbuttoned, the fly pulled wide. Tugging trousers and shorts downwards uncovered a good-sized member. Wrapping fingers around the shaft, they peeled the foreskin away from the concealed helmet. Holding the rod by the base, Holly's mouth moved to the crown. Lips parting, a pink tongue emerged, the tip delicately brushing the underside of the male prong. Slowly, languidly, Holly licked the sensitive string she found there. An experienced cocksucker, she knew what she was doing.
'You like that?' she asked, large eyes looking upwards, dirty grin plastered on painted lips.
'Fuck yes,' Tim moaned, happy that he'd finally gotten the chance to take Holly Willoughby like so many others on the show had.
Leaning forward Britain's favourite TV presenter took the man into her mouth. Rouged lips closing, they slid down, more male organ disappearing into the celebrity's sucking oral cavity. Maintaining eye contact, Holly Quinn began the blowjob in earnest. Head bobbing along the rigid stem, bunched hair swinging the rich red lips travelled up and down. As more dick moved in and out of her mouth, Holly laid down pink marks, lipstick staining the veiny stalk.
'Oh, fuck yes,' Tim moaned, eyes locked on the woman's, seeing her cheeks hollowing as she suctioned him off. 'Yeah, that's it Holly, suck that dick.' Gasping, he felt her response, a moan reverberating around the helmet lost in the wonderful warm mouth, a talented tongue bathing it with saliva.
Peeking from the end of the hallway, Fearne Cotton watched her friend giving oral sex. Concealed by the dark outfit she wore, there was little chance of being spotted. I doubt either would care if they knew I was here anyway. It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed Holly being intimate, and just like then it aroused the slim voyeur. It was tempting to raise her dress and touch herself, but the design of the garment wouldn't easily allow for it. The latex knickers beneath contained a soggy mess, fresh trickles of arousal slicking the already slippery pants. I probably smell worse than these, she thought squeezing the marked purple knickers she'd rescued from Keith Lemon.
Knowing who Holly had picked up, that Tim was part of the Celebrity Juice crew, Ms Cotton was mollified as to the threat to Holly's career. It was well known that she was somewhat easy, a secret they all kept well guarded. But doing it in the open? Anyone could just wander by. However, enjoying the show kept Fearne planted where she was, continuing to watch.
Under the stairs Holly had adjusted her position. Now on all fours her mouth shuttled back and forth along the tasty prick, shining with spit and shaded with lipstick. Back arched, she could feel eyes on her backside, knew her heart-shaped bum looked great in the clinging shorts. Entire body moving with each head-bobbing suck, her bunched hair was whipping about, dyed ends flashing.
Tim had been unbelievably randy since he'd first managed to get his hands on the blonde. Feeling those stunning tits, that succulent ass, tracing the deep camel toe, feeling Ms Willoughby's sexual heat had been a real treat. And now here he was, dick sucked on hungrily, bright red lips dragging along the sensitive pole as the celebrity slut rocked on the floor, juicy ass jiggling, her eyes staring up at him and full of wanton lust. Add in her being dressed and made up as Harley Quinn...
'Uh...Holly... I'm going...going to...'
Abruptly a torrent of rich salty spunk erupted in Holly's mouth. Viscous fluid pumped out in spurts, drowning the lapping tongue. Moaning encouragement, she sucked all the harder, determined to accept every drop. Hand pumping the stem, she could feel it throbbing, more spunk rushing for her to eat. Releasing the rock hard member from her lips, Holly continued to jerk the man off. With a deep-bellied groan he let out one last shot. Splashing on her beautiful face, it left a searing line of wet juice on a flushed cheek.
From the dark Fearne watched on. What a slut, she thought as Holly swiped the errant sperm from her face and into her mouth, salaciously sucking the finger clean. Clearly she saw her friend's sensuous mouth open for the man standing over her, displaying its pearly white contents, tongue swirling it. A twinge between her legs, Fearne heard Holly swallow, loudly consuming the cameraman's salty load.
Swooping down like a large raven in her Maleficent costume, the Top-of-the-Pops host grabbed Holly's arm, hauling her to her feet. Ignoring the man and the wilting prick hanging from his open jeans, she pulled her friend away. Stumbling down the corridor, Holly Quinn looked back over her shoulder, obviously wanting more. 'Come on, Hols,' Fearne said. Sometimes you really need protecting from yourself. Seconds later they returned to the dressing room. Closing the door behind them, the woman, still wearing her horns, chucked the worn panties onto the nearby sofa.
'Oh, Fearne! That guy's cum tasted so nice,' Ms Willoughby enthused. 'I want to suck him off again.'
'No,' the word came as a definitive reply. Stepping close to prevent the drunk walking back out, Fearne could smell booze and cum on Holly's breath. Turned on from the public display and the prolonged stimulation of the love egg, she couldn't help but ponder having a taste.
Without warning Holly grabbed Fearne's head, pulling them closer. As if she'd been mind reading, Holly kissed Fearne, pressing their lips together, forcing her tongue into the other woman's mouth. Taken utterly by surprise, the BBC DJ kissed back. Snogging, the pungent flavour of vodka and cum passed between them, the concoction tingling on the slighter woman's tongue.
'Tastes good, doesn't it?' Holly giggled, breaking the kiss. 'Told you so.'
You're not wrong, the younger blonde silently admitted.
'I really want some more dick,' said Holly with a tone of longing. 'I want a shag and I want to cum.'
It was clear from the somewhat drunkenly thoughtful expression on Hol's face that she was giving some serious consideration to going in search of more cock. In your state we can't risk letting some rando fuck you, Fearne thought. There was only one way to prevent that: Holly needed to cum. I'll have to do it. Exceptionally close friends, it wouldn't be the first time the pair had indulged in some same-sex satisfaction.
Hands on shoulders, Fearne spun the other woman around, guided them to the couch. 'Bend over the sofa, Hols,' she commanded. Slapping the pert backside she delighted in the way it jiggled. Feet together and long legs held straight, the giggling harlot complied. Straining as they already were, the red and blue shorts pulled even tighter, snuggling up to a world-class arse.
Kneeling behind on the floor, Fearne had the perfect view of a deep camel toe. Grasping the waistband she tugged the shorts and fishnets down, only then realising the studded belt was missing, the denims already unlaced. Apparently a little more had happened under the stairs before she'd arrived. At first it appeared the giggling hussy had gone commando apart from her tights. Then Fearne saw the tiny thong.
The red satin underwear appeared from between the firm backside, encasing the hot vagina beneath. Moulded to the female, they did nothing to hide the enticing curves, creases and feminine shapes of the quim. Outlined in the panties were the outer labia, puffy and swollen, forming the deep channel which seemed to be sucking the satin inwards. And there was no missing the large wet patch that had formed in the rich cloth. Fearne could detect the sexy aroma of her friend's arousal.
Pulling on the thong, she had to tug it from the twin cheeks, and exposed the gusset. They're absolutely soaking! Streaks of girl cream covered the tiny cotton inset, even parts of the little panel making up the front of the panties. Peeling the underwear down, it was obvious Holly's pussy had been dribbling all night long, laying down a ton of her personal nectar.
Feeling her clothes dragged down to her ankles, the panting TV host stepped out of them. Giggling drunkenly, her feet spread wide, opening before her kneeling playmate. Shoulders dropping to the padded seat of the sofa, face pressed into the cushion, Holly reached behind. Hands gliding over the rounded ass, they moved towards her crotch, fingers inching closer to the exposed snatch. Contacting the puffy outer lips, they pulled, spreading the hot flesh. Pulling further, Holly peeled the smaller pussy flaps open, revealing the livid pink of the inner flesh, the twitching entrance to her sex glossy with aromatic juices.
'Slut!' Fearne laughed at the wanton display. She loved her best friend and everything about her, including this oft unseen side to her wonderful personality, despite the trouble it could sometimes present. Still wearing the horned skullcap, she leaned forwards. Making an inspection of the offered twat, the BBC star delighted in the way it moved as Holly's breathing became heavier. Heat washed over her made-up face, the scent increasing as Fearne inhaled through large nostrils.
'Watch this,' the words muffled against the sofa. Twitching, the entrance to Hol's birth canal gave a tiny contraction. Then another before something moved within. Jaw dropping at the sight, Fearne watched as Holly Willoughby pushed out the still vibrating love egg. Slipping from the succulent inner flesh, greased with girl cum, the white egg fell from the open snatch to land on the floor where it rattled and spun about.
Seeing the appearance of the object served to remind the kneeling woman of its twin still gently working inside her own hot body. Pleasure growing in the depths wrapped around the hard little toy, a shiver of lust ran the length of Ms Cotton's spine. Stiffly erect, her nipples and clit were aching points. In particular, Fearne's nipples poking through her peep-hole bra were being stimulated by contact with the material of the Maleficent dress she still wore.
Moaning with desire, the radio luminary leaned forward on her hands, pressed her face into the wet heat of Holly's hole. Slick warm flesh greeted the intrusion, smearing viscous honey on the pale makeup, the lustrous red lipstick. Dark eyes closed, the woman's long tongue burst forward, delving straight up the exposed passage. Rich flavour enwrapped the questing appendage, velvety walls closing around and sucking at the lapping tongue. Curling, it withdrew, taking a sample of the feminine juice. Moaning again, Fearne savoured the taste, running it around her palette. Then she really went to town.
'Oh, fucking...yes,' Holly groaned against the lounger, voice muffled. Keeping herself spread, she held steady as she was eaten out. Alcohol still coursing through her, she was barely aware of who was sucking her minge, lost to the pleasure being heaped upon her. A very talented tongue was everywhere all at once, tracing along her flaps, curling around her jumping little bean, lapping at her vulva and slipping in and out of the twitching hole. And it wasn't just the tongue. Full lips and a suctioning mouth were also at work, tugging the labia, closing around the hooded nubbin, sucking in a lesbian blowjob.
Eyes opening as her mouth continued its ministrations, tongue lapping away at the tasty flesh, Maleficent spied Hol's bum hole. Knowing the other woman's predilection for anal sex, it came as no surprise to see the sphincter ever so slightly dilated, the ring of muscle twitching. Without thinking Fearne moved her tongue to it. Gently circling, the agile muscle probed the open backdoor, teasing as it traced the crinkled fissures, the tip digging inward. Horns of the skullcap waving back and forth, the slim blonde lavished the little butt hole, returned to the aromatic sweetness of the sodden snatch before circling back. Neck craning, she licked and sucked at the moaning Holly, bringing her closer to the desired orgasm.
Knees bending, the buxom wench was able to push her rear aggressively towards the wonderful cunt sucker. Still holding her exposure wide she cried out, 'My clit! Suck my clit. Suck it and make me cum. Please!' Obliging, plump lips enclosed the highly sensitive bud and its protective hood. 'Oh. OH!' A strong suction pulled at it, forcing it to swell further, a tongue lashing the very tip. 'Ooh, fuck. Fuck!'
Face buried in the pungent crotch, sucking at the distended clitoris of the English broadcaster, Fearne Cotton could feel her best mate cumming. Shudders ran through the voluptuous frame, muscles in spasm. Heat radiated out, washing over the suckling lesbian lover. Then something else happened. For a second all movement ceased as if a pause button had been hit. A pitched keening wail came from the climaxing Holly Willoughby, fortunately muffled as her face once more pressed into the cushions, and a sudden torrent of hot viscous girl cum geysered from her splayed cunt.
Distracted by the unexpected pause, Maleficent had pulled back. Unsure what was happening, it was a complete shock when Holly squirted. Mouthing gaping, chin and face already shining with delectable juices, they were inundated by the spurting vagina. Opulent aromatic cream splashed against Fearne, entered her mouth, even her nostrils. It covered her. A further squirt splattered the faux leather dress, ran down the trim body, and flowed along the channel formed by kneeling legs to pool on the floor around the still rumbling love egg.
'Jesus, Hols,' she gasped as a final weaker spurt dribbled out, the flavoursome nectar dripping from hanging flaps. It was too much for Fearne. 'My turn,' she declared.
Regaining her feet, the randy author hurriedly unzipped her dress to her small waist. Drawn from slim shoulders it fell to the floor in a creaking rush. Stepping from the discarded garment, Fearne Cotton stood in strappy heels, clad only in lacy seamed stockings, latex butterfly briefs, her well formed breasts in a matching bra, nipples poking through the peep holes. Choosing to keep the double-horned skullcap on, she lay on the couch, legs spread, knickers pulled aside to present her sodden snatch to Ms Quinn.
'Right, you sexy bitch. Now you can eat my cunt,' she said, demanding glint in her dark eyes.
Still bent over with the armrest supporting her weight, the golden-haired sexbomb reached forward. Hands sliding down the nylon covered pins, her fingers once more reached for a wet pussy, only this time it belonged to her BFF. Palms on the slim inner thighs, thumbs eased forward to peel the long muff curtains. A couple of attempts had the fleshy lips splayed, the pink inner core exposed.
'Fearne, still got that egg shoved up this nasty flange?'
'Uh huh.'
'Push it out for me, Fearne. Let me see you birth it!'
Acquiescing to the request, inner walls worked a peristaltic action, forcing the humming object down the tight birth canal. Every centimetre of its travel was a delicious sensation. It then wedged at the taut opening, sending vibrations shocking around the quivering orifice. Between her spread legs, she saw Holly's eyes, bright and wide, decorated with red and blue makeup. Totally focused on the show, she was panting, breath rushing through parted lips. Eyes flicking up, she grinned, white teeth flashing.
'Please, Fearne, I want to see you pop it out,' she pleaded, eyes returning to their hot vigil.
I swear you've got a pregnancy fetish, Hols. All the same, she was more than happy to indulge. With a strong contraction of the pelvic floor the white plastic egg breached the female opening, popping straight out and dropping to the cushion.
Grabbing the pussy juice covered toy, it was too much a temptation. Opening wide, the egg slipped between Holly's lips, leaving a shine as it passed through. Glazed look taking over her features, the This Morning anchor sucked at the droning little thing, savouring the flavour of fresh fanny. After a moment it was spat out, clattering to the floor, the impact turning it off. Once more spreading open the sex in front of her, Holly dove in.
Obscenely wet slurping sounds emanated from the opened crotch. On a mission, the blonde's head was in constant motion, red and blue strands swishing about, tickling the stocking-clad thighs on either side. Broad curling swipes of her tongue brushed over the supple flesh, like an animal drinking from a watering hole. Each time it made contact with her erect clitoris, Fearne would moan, the sound coming from flushed cheeks and parted lips.
'Oh, fuck yes, Hols. Suck my twat.' Cotton's moans became louder as she was licked and sucked aggressively. Horned skullcap thrashing against the padded white sofa, she was so close to climax already. After an evening's worth of stimulation from the recently departed egg and voyeuristically watching her slutty friend's antics had her at the boiling point the moment Holly began eating her out. 'Oh. Oh, yes. YES!'
Just as had been done to her, the costumed woman encircled the sweet little root atop the slick slit. Red painted lips nibbling, her tongue lightly battered the very tip, torturously motivating it to course pleasure into the writhing Maleficent, slim body rocking on the seat.
Not a squirter herself, still a rush of buttery juices flooded from the moaning fem. Dribbling in runnels from the convulsing birth hole, what didn't coat Holly's lesbian chin ran down Fearne's bum crack to stain the white cushion her arse was grinding against.
'Oh, Holly. That was... God, I needed that,' she gasped.
'You and me both,' the busty minx said, finally rising off the sofa's arm. Noticing her underwear still wrapped around her ankles, she kicked the black Sketchers from her feet and rolled off the bundle of fishnets and thong. Absently she picked up the undies and took a sniff. Holly enjoyed her own personal brand of perfume. 'Actually, I could still do with a good hard fuck,' the half-naked woman mused. Dropping the garments onto a chair, she tottered over to a nearby table leaden with bottles. Collecting a half-empty glass, she took a large swig of vodka.
'You're joking,' the companion scoffed as she closed her long legs, tugged her knickers over her lippy snatch and stood.
'Nu huh. Come on, Fearne, you know what it's like when all you can think of is a good dicking?' Downing the rest of her drink, she said, 'There's gotta be a cock around here I can use. Maybe that Tim guy is still about?'
She's not joking. Christ, I was sure making her cum would satisfy her. She can be such a whore sometimes.
'You really want a fuck?' An emphatic nod came in answer. Not sure what to suggest, there was one option that came to mind. It was well known that Keith Lemon kept a collection of dildos in his dressing room. Occasionally used for gags on the show, there were rumours... But it would raise too many questions if she were caught taking one. Besides, I don't want to leave Holly unsupervised in her current mood. She's just as likely to go looking for some real cock if I left alone for even just a couple of minutes. But glancing at the well-formed strumpet, it was clear Holly was about to take matters into her own hands.
'You want to get fucked, you tart? Get your ass back over that sofa.' Issued in a deep commanding tone, it made her sound and feel like a dominatrix. The skullcap, underwear and makeup served to enhance the impression. As the Quinnessque performer complied, Fearne slapped her arse again. A resounding crack filled the room, the naked flesh jiggling under the impact. 'Now wait there and I'll find you some dick.'
Hanging on the back of the door was a fluffy robe. Easier than struggling back into her custom dress, she pulled it from its peg and pulled it on. Full-length, it readily disguised the saucy lingerie beneath. Head peeking around the door jam, there was no one about in the corridor outside. Glancing over her shoulder revealed her frisky friend bent over the armrest once more. Feet wide apart, a hand moved about the dripping crotch, fingers languidly running through the fleshy vulva. Shaking her head, Cotton slipped through the doorway.
It was only a short walk to Keith's dressing room, leaving little time to concoct an excuse for her visit. Still with no idea what she would say, she knocked on the door. After no answer came she gambled on simply entering. Relieved that the odious man was absent, she cast about, taking in the entire room.
It was as bold and colourful as one might expect. Elaborate hats were strewn about, as was a vast array of clothing. Just as varied, shoes and boots littered the floor. Against the rearmost wall stood a large drinks cabinet festooned with enough bottles to stock a bar. And standing scattered amongst the mess were several dildos.
While a couple were plain if realistic, most were larger in size, bloated ropes of bulging veins coursing the fake lengths. Some were straight as a die, some curved. Only the pair of normal-sized dongs were flesh coloured, the rest representing a rainbow of faux cock.
Which one? Fearne pondered.
Still afflicted with the afterglow of her recent orgasm, the toys were fascinating her. Examining the available dongs, she picked each one up in turn. Hands testing them, she squeezed and stroked, fingers tracing the rubber stalks, the rounded crowns. As the investigation continued a throbbing returned to her shaved minge, a wave of excitement joining the mess in her already sticky panties.
'Come on, girl. Get a hold of yourself,' she reprimanded herself. 'What the hell?' she exclaimed. Propped against the side of the room's settee was a large rubber baseball bat, the very same prop Holly Quinn had been twirling about all night on the show. At some point Keith had pinched it. Most likely when he went for Hol's knickers.
'Perfect!' An evil grin worthy of the real Maleficent spread across Fearne's rouged lips. Despite being made of flexible rubber, the bat had the dimensions of the real thing. Grabbing the phallic toy she walked back out, returning to the private dressing room and the desperately waiting Ms Willoughby.
Before the robbed woman even stepped foot inside she was struck by a distinctive smell. The air was infused with the funky scent of two hot pussies, the musky aroma swamping her flaring nostrils. Partly responsible for the feminine odour, she'd not noticed it until her return. Stepping into the room, another shock awaited: Keith Lemon was fucking Holly.
Still wearing the white dress from his Sia costume, gone was the ridiculous bow and monochrome wig. Dress pulled up at the front revealed both a lack of underwear and a surprisingly sizeable pink prick jutting from a nest of ginger pubes. Hands gripping the blonde by the hips, his butt cheeks bunched and flexed, groin slamming against Holly's upraised arse, dick ramming in and out of the wanton pussy, eliciting the nastiest of wet squelching sounds. Pulling a number of strange faces, Keith was clearly having the time of his life. Finally, after dreaming of it for so long, he was getting to shag Holly Willoughby.
Bent over the sofa's arm, Ms Holly Quinn was moaning like a working whore, pushing back against each thrusting impact. Between her legs was her hand, fingers scrabbling at an engorged clit, rubbing the little button in tight little circles.
There's no way Holly would fuck Keith!
However, the proof of the lie was right there. Big tits jiggling under the clinging "Daddy's Lil Monster" shirt, dyed hair whipping about as she moaned with sexual release, the X-Factor presenter was climaxing around the appendage schlepping in and out of her.
'What the fuck is going on?' Fearne almost screamed.
Shocked by the abrupt interruption, Keith stumbled backwards, prick slipping from the warm embrace. Jumping in time with the man's racing heart, it was greased with a coating of Holly's abundant cunt cream, churned into a rich froth by an energetic screwing.
'Oh, hi, Fearne!' Keith beamed. 'Who'd have thought, eh?' he said. Taking hold of his member he clearly intended to continue the fuck.
Despite the immediate desire to swat the creep with the rubber bat, the Radio 1 DJ kept it hidden behind her. Instead she stepped closer, grabbed Keith's arm and yanked him away from her friend.
'What the hell is this?' she demanded, bewildered by what she'd just witnessed. 'Get out, you ginger perv!'
'Ah, Fearne, you're no fun,' the Juice host cried. 'All I did was pop in to say "Hi" when Holly begged me to smash her back doors in.'
Glancing towards the couch again, she saw the busty woman continue to masturbate. Shaking her ass, it was almost as if she were trying to entice someone to fuck her some more. Even so, it was hard to accept that even Drunk/Frisky Holly would let the ginger wanker take a ride on her.
'Well you've said "Hi", so now you can piss off,' Fearne said angrily. It was clear from her demeanour that Keith wasn't welcome and wouldn't let him continue his fun.
'Can I at least keep these?' Keith asked, pulling a wad of purple cloth from a pocket in his oversized dress.
'No,' Fearne said, snatching what she recognised as her mate's crusty knickers.
'How's about a quick motting?' he asked, miming cunnilingus. 'Let us have just a quick taste, yeah?' he begged, looking towards the juicy slot, the groaning scrubber still fingering herself.
'No. Now, fuck off.' Channelling her inner Maleficent she made it sound like a command, one that brooked no argument. Standing tall, height enhanced by the twin-horned skullcap, she fixed the intruder with a piercing glare. 'And you better not have cum in her.'
'Didn't get the chance to finish, did I?' he bemoaned, dropping the dress to cover a still erect cock. Taking one last look at the stunning MILF, Keith Lemon tucked his chin and fled.
'Wanker,' Fearne hissed at the closing door.
'Fearne?' She turned to see Holly peering over her shoulder. 'Where's the cock gone? It was so nice,' she said wistfully.
Despite herself, the scene that had greeted her return had gotten Cotton hot again. There was something so utterly perverse about Hols letting Keith have a tumble. And still she was frigging, still wanted - no, needed - more.
'You still want more cock, Hols?' she asked. In reply, her buxom friend remained bent over the armrest but spread her legs wider. Once more her hands reached over the firm backside, fingers opening her sopping pussy, peeling the slick flaps back, exposing the entrance to the pink depths. 'Alright, Hols, I've got something for ya.'
Discarding her robe, Fearne stepped behind the perfectly shaped backside. How best to pillage the slapper? Inspiration struck. Fingers slipping into the latex briefs clinging to her own dripping quim, she pushed the gusset down, creating some space. Hefting the rubber bat, she passed it through the gap, the end appearing behind, a little bob tail. Knickers pulled tight, she wasn't happy with how unsecured the weighty instrument felt, the heavier end drooping. Reaching behind she took the back of the rubberized knickers. Twisting the latex around the base of the impressive object, she tied it in place. Yanking up the front of the pants left the bat feeling much more firmly secured, the barrel pointing straight out from her crotch.
Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror she marvelled at the vision there. With her outfit whittled down to the black underwear, skullcap and heels, she looked tall, regal in domineering way, enhanced by the severe makeup. Jutting from her body was the huge phallus, girthy with an obvious weight. Damn, it looks like I've grown a giant's cock. She wasn't the only one to notice.
'God I want that. Fuck me, Fearne,' Holly begged.
Hauling the baseball bat up, Fearne placed it at the wantonly open hole. With so much viscous fluid shining on the ruddy flesh there was no need for additional lubrication. Perceiving the impending impalement, Holly adjusted her feet, pulled her snatch even wider. Barrel rubbing along the slick vulva, it was quickly slicked by the abundant wetness.
'You ready, Holly Quinn?'
'Yes!'
Supporting the huge dong with both hands, Maleficent set her own feet. Braced, she began to press forward. Made of flexible rubber, the baton bent, unable to make penetration. Adjusting her grip, the domineering figure increased the pressure. Using her bodyweight she forced the tip of the large club through the vaginal opening. A loud groan rising from the sofa met the intrusion.
Pausing, she held the mammoth stick crammed into the struggling twat. Through the length she could feel Holly's inner muscles straining around the staff. After a moment, she judged enough time had passed. Holding her bi lover by sensuously wide hips, Fearne eased the tip out until it barely nudged the slowly closing hole. Abruptly slamming her crotch forward, she jammed several inches inward. Knowing something of her friend's explicit adventures, even she was surprised with how much sank into Hols.
Easing the outsized toy out, fighting the clutching grip of the sucking fanny, she suddenly threw her hips forward again, managing to insert another two inches. Wrapped around the girthy implement, it felt tight inside. Settling into a steady rhythm, Fearne began screwing her moaning friend, using her entire body to shag her with the large baseball bat.
'Oh... Oh... Oh...' As the large phallic object ploughed her pussy, Ms Willoughby was in heaven. Feeling far too horny, she'd actually let Keith fuck her. Better hung then she'd believed he'd be, his dick had felt good slicing through her squelching muff. But the orgasm he'd given her hadn't been enough to satisfy her carnal needs. But this bigger intruder? 'Oh, fuck yes!'
Thrusting hips smashing back and forth, the rounded mass attacking her friend, pleasure rolled through Fearne. She'd quickly realised that by tilting her hips just so, tilting her body at the right angle, she could press her pussy against the slimmer end of the weapon trapped in her knickers. With every thrust forward her clit grated against the rubber, bringing herself closer to orgasm even as she did the same for her friend.
God, I'm so close, she thought. Giving a particularly hard shove into Holly, the stocking-clad woman was grinding her own little bud, causing waves of pleasure to fill her pelvis. Everything that she'd seen and done tonight took her to the edge of a powerful climax. To her surprise it was picturing Holly and Keith fucking that sent her over the top.
A keening screech announced Fearne's cumming. Fingers digging into the pliant flesh of Harley Willoughby's ass, marks were drawn against the fair skin as they squeezed. Body juddering, rhythm of the jabbing fuck thrusts destroyed, Fearne creamed against the bat. Cunt contracting, the fluid dribbled from her, staining the rubberised toy and the black latex entrapping them.
'Cumming! Cumming! Cumming!'
Dressing room already filled by the stink of hot snatch, it was further crowded by the repeated cry as pleasure engulfed Fearne Cotton. Without thinking about what she was doing, not really able to in her blissful state, she redoubled her efforts. Slamming back and forth she pummelled Holly Willoughby, was rewarded by an increase in the other woman's lustful moans as she continued to hold herself splayed, was even pushing back, meeting the savage pounding.
Holly was chasing her own climax. Forcing her own needy hole repeatedly over the massive implement, she was rocking against the armrest of the sofa, face flushed, hot moans sounding from glossy red painted lips. Eyes glazed, she didn't recognise her hair flying about, dyed bunches swinging with each rearward thrust she gave, each forward impact she was took. But it wasn't enough. Holly wanted something else, needed something else.
'F... Fearne? I want... I want you to... to fuck me in the ass,' the panting blonde said, throwing a demanding, lust-filled look over her shoulder, her words interrupted by the impacting collisions of the filling truncheon.
With a step back, the bloated toy withdrew from the puffy, swollen hole. Looking down it was clear to see just how much had been shoved up the sexpot. From the wide barrel tip, and for several inches of the broad shaft, a coating of rich cream marred the smooth surface, evidencing the depth of penetration achieved. The smell of pussy increased, wafting from the toy and the gaping hole between Holly's legs.
And it's not just Hol, Fearne thought. Large nostrils flaring she savoured the enticing odours, detecting her own musk mixing into the air.
Movement from the couch captured her attention. Releasing the distended labia, the faux Harley Quinn's hands slid over the succulent cheeks of her shapely ass. Fingers pressing into the enticing crevice, they pulled, Holly exposing the fissured entrance of her own asshole. Glistening in the room's artificial light, it still held a varnish of salvia from Fearne's earlier rimming. A finger closing in on the winking orifice, it easily passed through, sinking to the second knuckle, then the third. Soon a second finger joined it.
Knowing her BFF was an anal girl, it was no surprise to see the index and middle digits working together, Holly butt fucking herself, preparing the way. Passage relaxing, a third finger slipped alongside the others, ring finger disappearing. Licking her lips, it was an arousing sight for Fearne. Although no stranger to butt stuff, she was under no delusion that she was in the same league as Hols. The thing's I've seen shoved up there over the years. Still... she thought, considering the phallus protruding from her crotch.
'All I've got is this bat. You still want it up the bum?' she asked, already knowing the answer.
'Yes. God, I want that to feel that massive bastard up there!'
'Spread your bum for me,' Fearne said.
Peering into the crevice, the little hole was already closing, well trained after years of taking cock. Returning to her kneeling position behind the displayed rear, Fearne pressed her face between Holly's cheeks. Having gathered a generous quantity of saliva, it drooled down the extended tongue, pooling around and into the little gape. Using the tip of the agile appendage, the saliva spread about, coating the muscled ringpeice.
Darting around the rectal iris, it rolled and lapped, laying down more of nature's lubricant. Running round and round, it rimmed the quivering entrance. Turning to a probing action, the pink tongue explored the textured surface, tip tracing the crinkled walls of the valve. A sweet enticing flavour encouraged it further. Beautiful face pressing deeper into the sexy butt crack, Fearne stiffened her tongue, sent it delving inward, passing through the outer sphincter to lap at the inner one, coaxing it in preparation for the intrusion to come. Contractions compressed around the appendage, squeezing the delightful intruder.
A few playful moments later, Maleficent emerged from Quinn's ass, cheeks flushed from the heat. A red-painted finger moved to the moistened rim, gently caressing the loosening ring in half circles. A slight push and it slipped inside, following the path Holly herself had forged. A second finger followed and together they massaged both inner and outer sphincters.
'More,' Holly moaned. 'Give me more, Fearne.'
Obliging, a third finger joined the party. Held in a parallel line, they moved together through the rectal opening, reshaping it. Having already accepted triple digits, there was little resistance. Adding a fourth finger saw Fearne's hand surge forward, stopped only by the thumb. Evil grin quirking her mouth, she pulled the hand out until just the fingertips remained in contact with the slackened entrance.
'Oh!' Holly gasped as the hand abruptly charged up her happy rear, felt the impact of the forceful entry arrested at the thumb. 'Oh!' she gasped again as the action repeated, the open palm slamming forward, anus stretched into an elongated profile. An avid fan of anal play, there was something special about taking anything up the bum for her. It was a practice she'd partook of for years, had become accomplished at accepting all sorts of objects and many lovers. 'Do it!' she cried out, knowing what was planned.
Tucking her thumb for the next pass, Fearne pressed forward. Effortlessly overcoming a token resistance, the closed fist enforced its will and passed through the slutty blonde's asshole, filling the rectal passage beyond. Without waiting for the loudly moaning woman to concede the penetration, Fearne started to anally fist Holly Willoughby.
Pumping in and out she worked Holly's ass, attacked and abused the struggling cavity. Whole arm driving like a piston, she fisted her friend, knew how much the celebrity whore craved it. The first time she'd seen fisting in real life it had been Holly, flat on her back, legs in the air as a hand filled her fanny. The first time she'd experienced it herself, it had been Holly who'd buried her whole hand in Fearne's tight cunt.
Hand remaining closed, she watched as the sphincter strained, made to stretch around the bony interloper. Careful to only withdraw so far, she kept the fist packing the orifice at its widest point. Strong contractions tried to expel it but weren't enough. Twisting, the bunched knuckles scraped the over-stimulated rim, felt the muscular ring ripple its response. Cotton brusquely shoved her entire hand back along the rectal depth, the stretched ring loosely closing around her wrist. Over and over she repeated the deed, smashing Ms Willoughby's backdoors in.
Holly herself loved it, gasping and panting as bliss shimmered over her body and mind. Barely able to catch a breath, the sensations assailing her were overwhelming. Shapely figure juddering with the continual impacts, she'd let go of her bum, hands now braced against the sofa propping her up. Feeling an anal orgasm quickly building she pushed against the cushioned couch, forcing her backside onto the intruding arm. Knees bending she fucked against the fisting, chasing her pleasure through her wrecked anus.
Sensing the change in her friend, knowing Holly was almost at the peak, Fearne yanked her hand out. A disappointed wail issued at the loss. Between the spread cheeks, the vacated rectum was a gaping hole, hugely distorted. It was flushed from the friction, greased by a combination of spit and sweet smelling rectal mucus. Jumping to her feet Fearne wrested the baseball bat dong jutting from her latex panties. Quickly guiding it to the destroyed rectum, she shoved the large rubber toy through the portal, sending thick inches to refill the passage beyond.
'Yes. Oh, fucking yes!' the crude words erupted from Britain's favourite host. 'Fuck my ass, Fearne. Wreck it! Ruin it! Jesus, that's huge. Huge!'
Devolving into guttural sounds, Holly Willoughby fucked back, physically demanding to be shagged hard; hard, fast and unforgiving. Tightly gripping the well formed buttocks, her best friend slammed forward, hips thrusting rapidly, burying the immense instrument over and again. It was a brutal sodomy, the girthy length never left its victim, battering through the twin sphincters, surging deeper, more rubbery inches sinking into to depths.
'Too deep!' Holly groaned after a particularly deep thrust.
Gathered from its adventure in Holly's other hole, a rime of fanny butter coated the thick shaft. Pushed down the stem when travelling through the stretched anus, it now marked the depth the bat had achieved up Hols bum. Noting the creamy clot encircling the implement, Fearne tried not to repeat the same measure.
For several more minutes Fearne Cotton vigorously buggered Holly Willoughby, hips driving the jumbo-sized staff in an out of the writhing, moaning ITV star. Obscene noises rose from the colliding crotches, feminine sounds of pleasure building, demands for more, to do it harder, to go faster. Heat lifted from the rutting pair, sweat set their flawless skin aglow. The stench of aromatic pussy intensified, pungent and musky.
Relentlessly screwing her friend, Fearne humped the rubber toy tied into her knickers. Having learnt the perfect angle, she was able to grind her aching clit against it, chasing her own release even as she drove Holly to hers. For her part Holly had stopped moving. Holding still as she was taken up the arse, she thrust a hand between her legs, feverishly rubbed her own little bean.
Throwing her horned head back, dark eyes closed in an expression of ecstasy, Maleficent's painted lips parted, releasing an ululating cry. Spine arching, she buried as much of the bat as she could into the accommodating tunnel. Screeching loudly, she announced her orgasm, waves of pleasure swamped her whole body, rising and frothing from curling toes to crawling scalp. A familiar buzzing sensation ran along her limbs, surged through her torso, sparking from the stiff nipples poking from her latex bra. Pressed tightly to her lover, pulling her tighter still, she felt hot liquid splashing over her black stockings and heels.
Holly was squirting again. A torrent gushed from her empty snatch, splashing loudly onto the floor. Further eruptions spurted out, spreading the mess and painting the legs of her friend, ruining her hosiery. Ringing filled her ears, heat suffused her flushed skin as her orgasm rumbled on. Contractions rocked her body, caused her anus to tightly clench the baseball bat lodged up her bum. The two women remained together as they rode the waves of their mutual climaxes, groaning and moaning in turn.
Finally sated, Fearne took a step back. Drawing the gigantic dildo from Holly's asshole, it left behind a devastated yawning wreck, worse than the fisting had made of it. But she knew it would recover, would return to its former snug glory. Until next time, anyway.
End of story.
In the midst of her preparations, Holly wondered aloud, "I wonder if any of the celebs tonight have a fetish for 'mf' or 'ff'."
Later on, as they waited backstage, Fearne teased Holly, saying, "Looking at that outfit, I bet you've got a few 'mf' and 'ff' admirers tonight!"
