I Kissed A Girl (And She Fucked Me) 2

Katy shook with her surprise and her offense and her sheer incredulity at what was happening, from her aroused and disobedient body to, well, her aroused and disobedient Rihanna.

“Riri, hey, c’mon,” she said, as softly as possible. “You shouldn’t—don’t…”

Rihanna was already kissing her way down Katy’s body, driving small, eager sounds from Katy like she would raise welts with a whip. Before Katy knew what was happening, Rihanna’s lips were traveling over the softness of her rounded belly, leaving her straining tits feeling like they were bereft somehow—in need of the same lambent attention Katy was getting, however unwillingly, elsewhere.

Katy arched her back… she didn’t know why… and her legs opened, yawning, beckoning, to Rihanna’s inevitable answer. Rihanna lowered her head down to Katy’s hot cunt, but she didn’t touch it. Her mouth landed even lower, her hand drawing aside Katy’s halved costume to show the tight wrinkled opening of her anus. Rihanna pushed the tip of her tongue into the searing hot rosebud and Katy rose off the floor like she was levitating.

“AHHH!” she wailed. “Riri, no, no, it’s… oohhh!”

She meant to protest. She had to protest. It was so far beyond the bounds of the teasing, salacious display she had hoped for. This was something debauched, wicked, something only a pervert could enjoy. If her fans saw her enjoying a tongue in her ass, that was it for her. She wouldn’t be a temptress anymore. She’d be an outright slut.

But she couldn’t tell Rihanna no. The breathless pleasure of being sodomized—the start of being sodomized, because Katy knew it wouldn’t end there, this was only preparing her for the real thing, the true sensation of being ass-fucked—was overwhelming. Rihanna knew her too well.

“Still keeping that asshole nice and clean for me, huh?” she laughed nastily. “Yeah, ain’t nobody fucking this thing but me, but you still got that sweet little bidet giving you a little somethin’-somethin’ to keep your appetite down… keep you thinking ya ain’t a total FREAK. But I’ve heard you begging for it up the butt too much not to know what an anal whore you are. How many times we had to go home early, or duck into a janitor’s closet, because ya just couldn’t go another minute without me treating your asshole right?”

Before Katy could answer—and Rihanna knew the answer wouldn’t matter, it’d just be more bullshit Katy came up with—she shot her slick tongue as far into that sphincter as she could, poking and prodding until she ran out of tongue. Katy panted and whimpered, unable to feel anything but those incredibly succulent strokes inside her. Neither could she escape the knowledge, staring forward at the webcam and the livefeed, that her tender asshole was being reamed and tickled on a direct line to the entire internet.

When Rihanna finally drew her tongue out of Katy’s grommet, Katy just lay there, wide-eyed with disbelief. She’d practically come all over the place, all while the world wide web watched.

“That was a good appetizer,” Rihanna declared, actually smacking her lips. “But now I’m giving your ass the main course. And you’re gon tell all the nice folks watching at home how much you love it.”

***

“Go on then,” Rihanna cooed, pulling at the vacuum seal over one and only one of Katy’s buttocks, making it come away from the fine, fully rounded flesh to reveal the gently curving pathway to her anus. She let go and the glorified panties snapped back into place, holding tight to Katy’s ass, only a little off-center. Showing Rihanna just a little of her pink little sphincter. “You came. Admit it. Or I’ll stop.”

Katy glanced at the camera, moon-eyed, but what choice did she have? Already she’d gone too far to pretend there was nothing between her and Rihanna. Already the whole internet had seen the look on her face as she came, came from being rimmed, and by a woman no less. It would be cowardly if she tried to back off now. She’d be a quitter, a hypocrite, a flip-flop. Her only hope was to try and lean into this lesbian angle Rihanna had drove her to, without going so far that she ended up nothing but a Pride Parade act.

She forced a laugh. “Kissing is so much fun, isn’t it Riri? Yeah, we messed around some… why not? Nothing wrong with it. I think a lot of girls are curious about other girls. They experiment like we did. It doesn’t make you gay. I mean, I banged Left Shark—that doesn’t make me a furry.”

“Yeah?”

Rihanna ripped her belt open and clambered out of her pants, letting out a strap-on into fearfully trembling freedom. She was done waiting for Katy to get right with her publicist. The sight of that one huge moon, gone without good fucking for too long, inflamed her. Lust was in Rihanna like a fever, demanding that she fully use this prissy white princess who thought her asshole was too precious for another woman.

“You can pretend this belongs to a man if you want, but it’s going in you either way. And everyone’s gon see you don’t care who’s fucking you, so long as they get you off. And a big cock up your ass always gets you off.”

Katy faked a smile for the camera, even though worry at what Rihanna would do worked away at her like a dull knife twisting in her flesh. “Riri, you’re such a kidder! I think you’ve had one too many pharmaceutical supplements… could we get a nurse in here to check Rihanna’s medication list? Or anyone?”

“Why? They can watch perfectly well on their phones.”

Rihanna dropped to her knees and slowly rolled the half-outfit over the curved roundness of Katy’s hip, the very plushness of her ass now keeping the skintight material from returning to position. Breath rasped heavily through Katy’s flared nostrils as Rihanna rearranged her onto her hands and knees, facing the camera. It was a small mercy that they couldn’t see her bare ass. The only way they’d be able to tell she was really being sodomized was from the look on her face.

The only way—that was it! Katy would play along, act like it was one big gag, treat the whole thing like a publicity stunt. And it would come off like a publicity stunt. Who would believe that Rihanna had really ass-fucked her and livestreamed it to the entire world? They would dismiss it as fake, but Katy would still get all the attention of being Rihanna’s lesbian lover. It was genius! She wondered how much pot Riri had smoked to come up with it.

“Let’s see,” Katy cooed, wagging her big ass in the air. With her head down on folded arms, the camera could see it as well as Rihanna. Well, not as well as Rihanna. She had a front-row seat. What the audience got to see was Katy’s winky facial expression. “Is this the part where I back my hot little ass up to you?”

“Ain’t no thing little about that cake, baby. Right now it’s close enough to spank. Better bring it closer if you don’t want me making waves all up and down that white booty.”

Katy felt Rihanna’s hands, passionate to the point of brutality, digging into her hips. She was forced back, as fast as she could crawl, her nakedly quivering asscheeks feeling the air on them as they moved without concealment.

For a moment, Katy experienced a thrill of panic. There was no way out. Rihanna would have her way with her. She wanted her to, her new plan depended on Rihanna doing so, but the thought that she would do it whether or not Katy wanted—or, worse, that Katy wanted it whether or not she thought she did—brought the night into sharp relief.

All she could hear was the hushed stillness of the webcam in operation. It didn’t hum or flash like any other kind of camera. It just watched, like there was nothing in it except space for Katy to fill up with this audacity.

She felt a taut arousal at Rihanna’s tightly pressed fingers. Turned on even though she was angry at Rihanna, furious with her, terrified of her. Well within her rights to loath the very thought of her. But her body responded like there were no mixed emotions at all. It had no compunctions; it remembered how good it had felt back when Katy let Rihanna do this all to her.

“How do you like being teased?” Rihanna asked. “Yeah, you’re all about the teasing, ain’t you? Going around in your little outfits, getting photographed, getting videotaped. Making everyone want to fuck you and then acting like you never fuck. And now all these goddamn outfits! You dress up like a Hollywood hooker, that’s what you do, girl. Well, that’s how I’m gonna fuck you. Like you’re one of those street hookers you dress like! Here, baby girl—”

Rihanna tossed a wad of cash onto the keyboard of the laptop.

“Keep the change. I’m gon fuck you for every last cent of that. Starting with that sweet pussy. Ooh, I love me some official Katy Perry nail polish!”