Nick Carter fell against the backrest of his chair, panting, his blood racing through his veins. His hand sticky with his own juices. Jesus, how did this woman do it? There were no pictures of anything remotely sexual on her site and yet he kept coming back week after week. The words she used, the images she painted filled his mind and he became like a junkie. He was the resident king of masturbation according to all who knew him and even more so since he discovered this woman Becky's site. If he didn't know better, he'd think he actually enjoyed reading. Not just anything of course, this woman wrote sex hotter than most of his extensive porn collection! He'd stumbled upon her site by accident, on a lark searching the interent for the latest 'news' about him. He always got a good laugh out of those. He clicked on the link and fought a groan of dismay. A fan site. His own face staring back at him.

Admittedly, not a bad shot, but geez. He was about to hit the 'back' button when he spotted something called 'Vignettes' His eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. What the fuck was a 'vignette'? Sounded like a salad dressing. Out of curiosity, he clicked on the link. Oh holy shit. The woman had a whole collection of detailed stories about most inanimate objects in his possession. He laughed at a few of them. His tongue. He'd never had anyone write about his tongue before! He'd nearly fallen out of his chair laughing, until he actually read it. His cock stirred in his pants to his amazement. For heaven's sake! He had known girls liked his tongue and all its talents, but it had never turned him on before! His boat was next. Okay, he admitted it. The woman was good. The wash cloth one did it though. He was hard as a rock after that one. He saw that she wrote visuals too, and decided to take a peek. He knew what visuals were and usually marvelled at the energy these girls gave him. Hell, he'd even admit to thinking about a few while fucking this or that girl.

As he read this Becky's stuff he had to adjust himself a few times, and finally admitted he just wanted to keep touching himself while she painted the hottest scenes in his head. He'd come three times the first time he stroked himself while reading her stuff. After that, he was a goner. He had to keep checking if she had anything new for him. She never dissapointed. He discovered this one story she was writing with this other woman, Sarah, who apparently wanted to fuck Howie's brains out. Mother fucker, talk about hot sex! 'The Dance' was filled with it. He stayed home all day one time reading what was written so far. The next day, he had been horny as hell replaying the sex scenes in his head and asked out this one girl, fucked her.......and made the mistake of calling out Becky's name when he came.

He wondered what this Becky would say if she knew he had read her stuff, jerked off to it.....fucked to it..... Her e-mail link was right there. Nah.....he didn't dare. What if she was just some crazy obsessed pervert? What if she would put her body where her brain was and he could fuck the real thing? One e-mail wouldn't hurt. Hell, she probably would call him a poser and tell him to fuck off. His cock twitched back to life in his pants and made the decision for him.

Heidi was gonna kill him. She didn't like it when the guys found the women on their own cause they almost always picked low class groupies, and that was bad for her service's reputation. Heidi liked to run the show and only women who met her standards deserved to have their Backstreet fantasies fulfilled. Nick would tell her about Becky tomorrow. For today, he clicked her e-mail addy.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Becky scrolled down her e-mail inbox when she came to a name she didn't recognize. Assman69@yahoo.com. Who the hell? The subject line simply read 'Your Site." She could see no attachments to speak of, so she hoped that it was okay and not some moron sending her a virus. Opening it, she smiled at the contents.

"I just wanted to say that you are an amazing writer and the sex you write is amazing. I'm always 'cumming' (Ha Ha) to your site for more. Hope we can chat about your work sometime."
Nick

Becky rolled her eyes. If there's one thing the BSB internet community had its share of, it was posers. This shmuck must really think she was gullible to believe that he was really Nick Carter. Her eyes fell on the P.S:

I know you don't believe it's me, so I'm leaving my cell number. I'm counting on you not to share it with anyone. Call me this Tuesday night and you'll see I'm legit.

Becky felt her stomach give a funny leap. Oh come on! she scolded herself. There's no way in hell it's him. Still, she was intrigued that he would leave his number. If she called, this poser would laugh his ass off at her. And it'd be no more than she deserved. She turned off her computer and stood up but remembered that she hadn't deleted the message. The arrow was over the delete button but a giddy impulse had her reaching for pen and paper to write the number down. If it wasn't him, she could always advertise his number on the internet as a gay phone sex line in revenge. The idea made her laugh and she was satisfied that Nick or not, she could always fight back.

Next ... Heidi

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