Thread: Ariana Grande's Only Sex Tape {darkest_fate&Joshua Sankt Johannes}

It was the stuff of dreams getting paid a ridiculous amount of money for a couple of hours' work, and that work being shooting a private blowjob video with the hottest little starlet dominating the radio stations and video channels of the moment, Ariana Grande. There had to be easily ten million men in California, a hundred million in America, a billion across the world, who would have chewed their right foot off to be presented with that opportunity. And so it was strange that the one man to whom the chance actually fell had actually required some convincing before allowing himself to be talked into it. It wasn't like Manuel Ferrara wanted for opportunities to have beautiful 18 year olds pleasure him on video it was quite literally his day job. Nor did he need the money, having acquired the status of one of the most sought after male actors in the highly selective adult entertainment industry. And in general, he hated this kind of offer. Every so often some celebrity or rich housewife would discreetly contact his agency and try to set something like it up, a private little shoot to spice up their life. They were usually more trouble than they were worth entitled divas who were prissy and demanding, not like the pliant, easily bought girls he worked with. So when Ariana's agent had contacted his and offered a substantial sum, he'd hardballed, driving up the asking price with a lazy indifference to whether he ended up overbidding his hand. But the dollars kept rolling in, and eventually the sum was such that he couldn't afford not to take it clearly, they weren't going to take no for an answer. He'd accepted, laughed his head off when the contract clearly stipulated there was to be no sex, passed off the details to his assistant, and more or less put the whole thing out of his mind for a week or so until the day arrived. The house he pulled up at was fairly nondescript, a pleasant but bland little suburban shell in the sort of unassuming, sleepy neighbourhood that would have no conception of what kind of depravity was taking place behind the white shuttered windows. He rang the bell and waited and waited. These celebrities always liked to keep the little people waiting, he sighed. He rang again, and re-checked his bag. He looked like a door to door salesman toting a bag of merchandise a clean, smart suit, a crisp white shirt open at the neck, polished black shoes a confident, worldly bearing, the vaguest smile, long stubble, casually wavy hair. But the contents of the bag a weighty black carrycase were not anything any salesman would be seen with. The most important items were the camera, microphone, and tape, but he'd brought along enough accessories to start a small porn studio. Some of the more exotic items came to the forefront of his mind as he still waited on the door they would be useful in punishing and correcting such tardiness. Yet when the door was opened, he was instantly glad he had answered the call, taken the job, waited so long all of it suddenly seemed worthwhile, even without the money. Standing before him was not just some pretty girl, some 18 year old with make-up slapped on, some piece of ass, but an absolute vision, a stunning, beautiful young woman, a divine petite figure encased in a hugging black dress, and a face that already spoke of so many qualities, such fragile innocence, but the hint of something so raw and powerful and sensual that he could not wait to awake it. His grin widened and he took her hand, instead of shaking it raising it to kiss. He had probably a foot of height on the girl so he stooped slightly to do so, yet his dark eyes never left hers, twinkling with delight. Miss Grande, he said, his thick French accent immediately apparent. It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I'm so glad we were able to arrange this meeting. May I come inside? Yet he didn't wait for an answer, instead sweeping through the door. Straight away, he was keen to assert himself he didn't like anyone else calling the shots. Half of it was professional pride he was technically the director here, as well as the star and half of it was the delight he took in unsettling the sort of precocious diva who might think her money bought authority over him. His hand still lightly clasped hers, so he set down his bag to allow his other hand to move to her waist, spinning her lightly on the spot as he raised her arm aloft, such that he could admire the view from all the way around. You look quite lovely, he complimented her. He wanted to keep the mood light and friendly too intense too fast and she would likely chicken out but his playful smile hid a wicked moment of amusement as he remembered the no sex clause of the contract. Yeah, right .