SHYING BOYFRIEND

In this fictitious piece, PJA Woode imagines the lead up to the moment when Zac met Stella.

It was like walking past a fenced off area at a festival.  Or like going through a door marked private.  There was clearly a sense of exclusivity about it – like entering an executive club lounge or turning left at the top of the steps at the top of the entrance to an aeroplane.

He was buzzing even before he reached the hotel door.  Now inside, even though he had yet to utter a word, he could feel his head getting hotter and he was sure his cheeks were reddening.  He was conscious of his heart beating and he knew that as soon as he spoke, something rushed, garbled and unclear would emerge from his lips.  The excitement was almost too much to bear.  And yet it was also intoxicating.  Moments like this, he sensed, would be very, very rare.  It was probably a once or twice in a lifetime moment.

To complicate matters – and perhaps a reason for the intensity of the moment – there was a nagging doubt about what he was doing.  The moment he had stepped through the door – the very instant he had crossed the threshold – he knew he was doing something that his parents wouldn't have liked.  Well, rather more than that.  They would have been livid.

He was a good boy.  He always had been.  He had never been sent to the headmaster at his prep school, nor his senior school.  He had never even had a de-merit.  He got straight As in his GCSE exams (well, apart from Art, but he was never really able to draw) and straight As at A Level. He had been a prefect and head of his boarding house.  And he was studying at a very respectable university.  His chosen subject could not have been more appropriate for someone like him: Law.  Actually, it was Law with Italian (he had done two languages at A Level – French and German – and he liked the idea of studying a new language at university). In short, Zac had always done the right thing.

That was until right now when he had entered the room and the door had closed behind him.

His path to this moment of heady expectation had been a long one.  Zac had always enjoyed sampling the pleasures of nubile women when surfing the net.  And the more he surveyed the online beauties, the more certain faces kept cropping up.  One face, in particular, appealed more than the others (though it wasn't just her face, she did have absolutely amazing breasts, a cute butt, great legs – well a pretty stunning everything).  This was Stella Cox.  She appeared so homely.  She had a classic 'good girl' face.  Needless to say, looks can be deceiving, and Zac had seen that she engaged in rather a lot naughty activities – both with men and with women.  All of which made her that much more attractive, especially to a 'good guy' like him.

He started to follow Stella on social media – along with a few hundred thousand others.  He liked her posts, replied to some of them, and tagged her in his own posts.  Just like several thousand of her followers.

Zac, like everyone else who adored this buxom brunette, often imagined what it might be like being with her.  God how he envied the guys on screen who actually got to run their fingers through her long hair, and who got to cup those wonderful breasts and kiss her nipples; and those who were able to handle her tight arse and touch her smooth pussy. Every time Zac thought about any of this he would very quickly get hard.  It was his all-time favourite fantasy.  And the thought of putting his rigid cock inside her pussy, mouth or butt never failed to bring him off when he was wanking.

Fantasies were one thing, but seeing Stella in the flesh was something else.  It was a thought quite beyond all others.  Of course, the chances of it happening were miniscule.  Zac had tried to make direct contact with her on social media.  But she had never replied.  He could hardly expect her to.  She had nearly two hundred thousand followers for heaven's sake. But that had not put him off trying.

He had always been told at school to persevere – even in Art.  If he kept at it he would succeed.  So he didn't give up.  He would try to think up a novel response to one of her posts – a joke, perhaps, or a witty remark.  But he would never over do it; he didn't want to appear a bore or a bit too intense.  Yet, despite these efforts, he remained unnoticed.

It was Zac's perseverance that led, one January, to Stella replying to one of his posts on Twitter.  It was in response to a rather naughty photoshoot she had shared with her followers.   She had just finished a rampant sex scene and had tweeted a photo of herself, with a splattering of cum across her mid-riff, suggesting a liaison with more than one bloke.  Zac tweeted in reply: Looks just like you could do with a cup of tea.  Happy to bring it to your room.

All Stella had tweeted in response was Ha! Ha!  But that had been enough and every now and again she had responded to something he posted.  Gradually, the dialogue continued, and there must have been about fifty or so messages exchanged between them.  The messages become more jovial and in a sense more real.  They shared a bit of detail about themselves: Zac said that he was on his year abroad in Tuscany; Stella said that she was part Italian and was often in the country either visiting family or filming.  But nothing more personal than that was mentioned.  Their tweets, after all, could be read by everyone.

A few weeks later, after seeing one of her films set in front of a log fire with a Christmas tree in the background, and feeling desperately envious of the guy who had fucked all her three openings in one session, Zac tweeted:  I see you are already in Christmas mode. I have your Xmas present here.  Would you like me to bring it round?

To which Stella had replied: Of course.  Great.

Zac then did something he had never done before.  He had thought it rather poor manners.  Etiquette had been drilled into him at school. DM-ing someone like Stella was just not the done thing.  But now he felt very alone.  Christmas was a fortnight away and his parents had flown off to the Caribbean leaving him with no reason to go home.  The combination of loneliness and sexual frustration now fuelled him.  So Zac messaged back: When and where?  Realising this was a step too far, he quickly added, in a separate message: Only joking, of course!

And then Zac received the message that he simply could not believe.

BTW – would you be interested in being one of my 'clients'?  They are a bit like followers, only a bit more 'intimate'.

Zac wasn't exactly sure what this meant, but before he had time to tap out a reply on his mobile, another message came it:  Filming at a hotel near Firenze. Aren't you near here? Why don't you call in once I have finished a set? You can bring the present! Ciao.

He went straight back: Quando?

18.30 she replied and then gave him the name and address of where she was filming.

That was a couple of hours ago.  And here he was, entering the hotel room.  The anticipation was massive, but he was also fighting back feelings of guilt. He really ought to make his excuses and head back to his student digs.  This was such high risk.  In the next few minutes he could blow his whole future career as a lawyer.  What if someone knew where he was and who he was with?

But he rationalised: who could possibly know?  This was a private meeting and so what if she was an adult movie star?  No-one would find out.

The producer of the film had let him into the room.  She had been very reluctant to do so.  She did not like disturbances during films, and she was not aware that Stella was expecting a visitor.  She had turned to Stella to check that it was all right to let the young man in, and Stella – who had been reading a magazine in between sets, looked up, smiled and said 'It's Zac.  He's one of my newest clients.  I never thought he would actually come round. That's great'.

So here he was. About five metres from this woman he idolised.  She was perched on the edge of a bed wearing a golden silk pyjama blouse.  She looked sensational – every bit as sensual as he had seen on screen.

He walked towards her, trying to slow things down in his mind.  But that was impossible.  He was holding a brace of presents in his hands, which he had rushed out and bought on his way here.  He had gone for chocolates (partly because the Italians always wrap them so beautifully) and a book – a first edition Man Ray, which he had seen in an antique bookshop near his university.  This was high risk, he knew, but probably not what she was expecting so potentially a clever idea.  But would it work?

As he moved closer towards her, Zac began to think about what might happen next.  Would they just sit and talk?  What would they chat about?

Stella stood up, kissed Zac lightly on both cheeks in that European way, and – sensing his nerves – said 'Are these for me?  Thank you!  Come and sit down here.' She patted the bed next to where she was sitting.

Zac mumbled a 'Hello, nice to meet you', awkwardly handed Stella the two gifts and sat next to her.

'Can I open them now?' she asked, and ripped off the paper on the book before Zac had time to reply.  'Man Ray!  I love his work.'  She flicked through the book.  'This is the one with the woman whose back looks like a double bass. '  She looked inside the front cover. 'Oh my God – it's a first edition. Thank you. Thank you so much.'

The risk had worked.  She gave him another kiss and also a hug, and then opened the chocolates.

'I am afraid that I haven't bought you a present," she said.  'But I do like to look after my clients and I do have something to give you…'

Zac's mind started to race.  What was it? Surely she wasn't going to take her top off? And if she was to put this proposition forward, would the camera crew and producer leave them alone?  Surely they wouldn't hang around.  God forbid, what if they filmed any interchange between them?

And would she let him touch her amazing breasts?  Or kiss her lips?  And were tongues going to be out of the question?  More importantly, what about himself? Would she take his clothes off?  And if she did, what about his cock?  Would it rise to the occasion?  It always did when he wanked, but would it stand to attention with someone else's hand?  Would it feel too different?  Would he come too soon?  He had only every done it with a couple of women, so would it all prove too much and would he ejaculate within the first few seconds?

'Well,' said Stella, 'I think it's your time for your present, now.  So why don't you take your clothes off?'

Zac simply could not believe her request.  He quickly complied and noticed Stella looking approvingly at his well-toned body.  'How about you take a quick shower first?' she said,  'I'll wait here until you are ready. I was thinking about giving you a very special wank.  What do you think?  Are you up for it?'

Ends