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From: MICKIE MARKS <celebritysexnews@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} BRITNEY HAS A DIRTY THOUGHT THAT WONT GO AWAY
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Date: Sun, 02 Feb 2014 04:10:04 -0500
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THE FOLLOWING IS A TRUE ACCOUNT.  IT IS POSTED IN THHE NEW
"CELEBRITYSEXNEWS" group designed for friends of celebs and past friends of
celebs.  I've been a close friend of Britney and Jamie Spears for many
years and saw this group and thought I'd drop it in here.  Those of us who
are trying to get the group going are looking for other celebrity friends
or just fans who enjoy hearing the sexual secrets we have at our disposal.
Hope you enjoy the story.  You can share your thoughts by joining the
googlegroup CELEBRITYSEXNEWS or by emailing "celebritysexnews@gmail.com

   **********************************

   It started as things often do with temptation and a thought.  In this
case, the thought took root after perusing the internet, sifting through
the porn written about her by fans -- if you can call them that.  She found
herself reading about herself with a "snake" of all damn things which -- if
nothing else -- was original compared to all the routine stories written
principally by male fans who fantasized about somehow crossing paths with
her and ending up fucking her.  And, unlike most of the porn (which was
written so amateurishly, in which her personality was completely absurd,
the ease with which she fell under the spell of some anonymous loser,
ridiculous...) this porn creation was reasonably well-written.  She wasn't
going to read the entire thing: she wasn't much a reader and with little
time for such head-shaking nonsense, she went on through an hour of other
internet activities and fundamentally forgot it.

   It would be a few weeks before she had the dream.  The dream that -- as
you'd expect -- anyone would wake up from breathless and panting, "what the
fuck?!?" In the insane dream -- probably more than a little precipitated by
a Boston Pizza bruschetta with a few too many peppers -- she was rehearsing
with the albino Burmese python she had to shoulder in the MTV performance
of 'SLAVE' being shown how to bear it across her yolk and hold up the two
extremes.  Her memory of the experience was fresh in both her conscious and
subconscious because of the considerable fear created by even having to
touch the thing in the first place.  The weight of it and nature of it had
given her more than a handful of dreams at the time of feeling
claustrophobic among other things.  But in this dream it was as clear and
vivid as the rehearsals themselves.  "BANANA" wasn't actually a threat in
the dream or the actual performance itself but people being how they are,
Britney being just like anyone else, wasn't gung-ho to handle a snake.  But
in this dream things took a turn much more bizarre than the irrational
fears we typically have about reptiles who kill by constriction.  Instead,
in the dream -- undeniably inspired by the little she read of the
preposterous porn she'd skimmed -- the trainer and his partner went from
helping the snake off her shoulders to holding her down on the leather
futon in the dressing room so they could tear the crotch of her costume
open and -- while she begged and fought and was kept from screaming for
help and cursing and biting at them -- desperately tried to jerk her body
enough to keep them from handling the tail of the huge python and pushing
it between her popstar "lips" between her seizing thighs and inside her. 
As they wrestled against her terrified response, leaving her with eyes
wider than she thought possible, mouth now gaping open with nothing more
than a stream of "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH JESUS CHRIST!!" they did their
simultaneous best to incite the snake to use its natural undulation and
muscles to work with them as they pushed the tailend of the serpent as
fiercely in as possible.  The struggle looked ridiculous but from Britney's
view she was mesmerized by her fear and horror as she could see where the
snake ended at her crotch and vanished inside her.  Her eyes were
tear-filled but open like saucers, her jaw so widely agape that it was
hurting her ears; and unable to scream, she simply found herself lost in
the deep sense of pressure she could feel with several inches of the mighty
snake inside her, it's muscles pulsing down the length of itself into her,
the sensations writhing against the walls of her vagina, the tail flicking
ever so slightly but enough she could feel a slight tickle within
herself..."OOOOHHHH MY GGGAAAAAWWWDD OH GOD OH GOD!!!  STOP!!  PLLLEEASSEE
NO!  OH JESUS FUCKIN CHRIST!!" The men were ignoring her almost completely,
as though she were not even a person, raging with each other over how to
hold her, how to coax the snake, how to handle the snake itself now that it
was almost 9 inches inside Britney Spears.  Her muscles everywhere were
seized and exhausted and it seemed futile to keep resisting but her horror
mustered enough to give several more lunges of resistance, one of which
enabled her to bite the shoulder of one of the attackers.  But her eyes
could not leave the sight of the snake inside her, and her mind could not
avoid firing the neurons that allowed her to feel the pressure of the snake
inside her, it's undulating muscles slithering, it's tail now flicking
slightly up inside her deeper than she could have imagined was possible, as
though it were in her womb, attempting to make a home where she had bourne
two babies.

   It was here she woke, laying panting almost chanting her "what the
fuck!?" For roughly a minute before sitting up, then turning on the bedside
light, then the tv by remote, then opening a window, then fetching the
coldest FIJI she could find and guzzling it faster than she'd ever done
before, going out to the pool, wading in to her knees and -- still unable
to really shake the images -- dropped into the water, empty bottle and all,
desperate to clear away the residue of the dream.

   It would be a few hours before she got back to sleep.

   That's how it started.  Just a bad dream brought on by any number or
bizarre circumstances that gelled in her subconscious enough to give her
the craziest dream she'd ever had and leave her off-kilter for a week,
nervous about going back to sleep.

   But she was fine.  Dream was gone.  Thank God!

   Unfortunately, as it often is with such things, though the dream was
gone, the thought was not.  Awake, conscious...it was just behind her
everyday life, like a smell you can't rid your pillow of or an ex you can
never really stop wondering about.

   And just at the tail-end of every orgasm she had for the next 3 months
she found herself inescapably seizing the image in the dream of looking
down where her legs had been held open and the snake abruptly ended and she
abruptly began; and, as her orgasms took hold, she clutched hard at that
vivid memory of the dream in such a way that she felt a combination of
horror, self-disgust, confusion, bewilderment, and fiery -- almost
masochistic -- pleasure that sent her entire body into convulsions and
spasms so intense she could hear vertebra popping and tendons in her legs
twinging in pain as the orgasms lightninged through her, making her scream
and shake with a climax she'd normally criticized as being "over
dramatized".

   And so the thought became more than a thought.

   And within 3 more months even the internet knew that Britney was
tweeting " Sometimes a I wonder what that snake is up to these days,
anybody know where it's at haha?"

   Life for Britney Spears is both as complicated as people think, and not
nearly as complicated as they think.  Most fans are clueless to how much
time celebs have, and then how little.  Like waves, busy-ness comes and
goes, in with simultaneous floods of projects and associated necessities,
out with the finishing of handfuls of chaos after which days can be spent
laying in bed catching up TIVO and lounging around the pool while
helicopters and RF devices manned with wireless microcams drift above the
yard in hopes of catching this or that starlet doing the infamous.  I've
always been delighted how someone like Britney can walk down a street or
order bruschetta at Boston Pizza with me and no one even looks twice,
primarily because they don't expect to see someone like that and secondly
because they're so ego-centric that their little world of themselves rarely
really sees other people let along recognizes them for who they are,
especially when their celeb status blinds them by the preset of
impossibility.

   Britney told me about the dream...and the after-shocks.  And when she
pulled into the parking lot of PETSMART, I laughed and said, "Oh no you
aren't!" And though I giggled a bit, I was also more than a bit weirded
out. "Shut up, " she said, half-smiling, then pointing her finger at me and
saying, "Just don't say a damn word I swear!" and half blushing, half
smiling, half turning away, got out of the car, leaving me to decide if I
was going to linger and let her go in on her own or follow in with more
than a measurable degree of unease.

   I've been to PETSMART dozens of times in my life, mostly just to swoon
over the adorable puppies and see if any of the parroting birds have
learned or accidentally picked up any crazy words or phrases.  I usually
end up wanting some tiny dog that'll end up home alone too much of the time
so I resist the urge and walk out empty-handed.  But never have I even once
gone anywhere near the reptile section of the store because -- like most
people including Britney -- I find them creepy as hell.  I couldn't imagine
why someone would want one as a pet and even the little boys who are
themselves sometimes creepy or weird seem to be worsened by their
attraction or ownership of them.  Yet there we were, wandering through the
"habitats" of various slithering samples with both of us arms crossed,
muscles a little rigid, expressions probably a little dreading. 
"Seriously...you're not gunna actually do this right?" I said and repeated
some variation of it several times as we wound through the aisle, Britney
assessing what I could only estimate was possibility?  Size?  Length? 
Creepiness?  The nearest attendant saw what he assumed were two 'hot girls'
and without really recognizing her whatsoever, approached us with his
gracious, officious smile.  We assumed he worked on commission.  Was he
going to try to sell the most expensive thing they had in stock?  "It's
unusual to see women looking at snakes," he said casually.  Brit failed to
even turn in his direction.  "I'll take this one..." And as she tapped on
the glass of the habitat, she turned, started to walk away (obviously
trying to avoid as much opportunity for recognition as possible) and said,
"wrap it up Ill meet you at the cashier." I stood there speechless for a
minute while he stammered, searching for what I assume was a way to
comprehend and also deal with the fact that his paying customer wasn't
about to stand around for the predictable pitch they give when it comes to
asking if you properly know how to care for the animal and an assortment of
other things they typically do when someone's buying an exotic animal. 
"Trust me, she's serious...just go along", I said, trying to hide my
embarrassment but also wanting to catch up to her as fast as possible.  As
was her usual style, she took a seat at a bench near the exit doors and
left me with a money clip of cash to deal with all the protocols.  The
snake was a bronze-colored 15-inch Northern Rubber Boa which not as heavy
as I expected!  'Evan' explained how he included some "food" which
basically a dozen mice, a booklet on care and feeding and recommended a
good "habitat" he'd circled in one of the pamphlets he dropped in the bag.
I didn't even want to carry the damn thing but Britney did as she so often
does and was out the door 2 feet in front of me heading straight for the
car, beeping off the alarm, opening the trunk and ushering me to put the
eerie purchase there before we got in the car and pulled into traffic to
head for her place.  The drive home was a noisy one.  There's really no way
to describe how two old friends -- one of which is a wealthy, powerful
legend in her own time who's sexual appeal rivals Venus herself -- discuss
something so.................bizarre.  On the one hand, as women we have a
rapport that might seem to outsiders to be half-crazy; but on the other
hand, there's also a familiarity and respect that needs to be protected
even when one or the other is BEING half-crazy.  It's not an argument but
its hardly peaceful and acquiescent either.  It's not insulting but it's
hardly flattering.  It's not dismissive but it's not cooperative either. 
It's simply the yin and yang of at least one of us playing devils advocate
to ensure that whatever happens there won't be some 'morning after' of
horrifying regret with Britney hammered laying on a pool-lounge with a
mostly-spilled grapefruit screwdriver in her hand and some self-effacing
vomit choking the filter.

   That leaves the inevitable to happen and discussion as long as the drive
home after which everything's been said.

   It is something to credit for her success -- she does what she decides
to do and doesn't let people tell her no.  Some say its an ugly trait,
others laud it for being the foundation upon which every giant has built
their castle in the clouds.

   So there's Britney standing behind the bar, drinking RedBull, waiting
for the ice maker to drop a batch of cubes, watching the SLAVE performance
on the big screen, me sitting uncomfortably next to the gumball machine
turning the coin mechanism back and forth and her saying every thirty
second or so, "I gotta...I gotta do it...I know it's insane...I know I need
a shrink...I'm not stupid...but it's not gunna just go away..." Then
finishing the can, eating 3 peanut M&Ms and washing it down with FIJI
before covering her face with her hands, rubbing it thoroughly and saying
"stop looking at me," without even looking in my direction.  I wasn't, at
that point, looking at her but it seemed useless to say so.  "Ya gunna help
me get dressed?" She asked, leaving the room expecting me to follow as
though it wasn't a question.  As we we found and fiddled with her outfit
from the SLAVE performance, she went on about the horribly-written porn. 
"Yknow it'd actually be kinda flattering In a backasswards kinda way if
they actually didn't write my personality like I was a Martian or
something. I mean who talks like that?!?  Ever?!" As we got her top on and
the glitter-sequined hot pants, she was running her fingers through her
scalp complaining how she needed a better conditioner and balming her
chapped lips which always happens when she's eating too much citrus and
returning again to, "my god if I do this and all these fans writing about
me actually knew, especially that guy that wrote the snake thing, OMG how
funny is that?" It wasn't easy trying to duplicate how every "veil" was
originally fitted and attached but Brit waved me off saying "it's fine it's
fine, we're not shooting for perfect, it's just sort seems common sense
right?" And she obsessed at the fitting in the mirror more than her
indifference suited.  "Jesus I'm not even gunna touch my hair,"
half-laughed then rooted around for the appropriate jewelry leaving drawers
open as she went.  She put two doses of lotion on her shaking hands and
said "gimme yoga or something!" She decided the logical place to even
attempt this was in the theater, a several-rowed home theatre room with a
huge projection screen and more than enough space in the front row with
just the right kinda padded love seats.  She sent me to get the video setup
in a loop and fetch her new pet from the car while she worked her moves and
had some grapes (which for those of you who don't know she's emotionally
addicted to -- she uses them to balance her moods).

   When I brought the snake into the theater she was at the bottom, sitting
in front of the screen facing me, face covered, and the bass of the
speakers vibrating the room.  As I approached and she parted her hands she
said, "OH MY GOD!...  I CAN'T BELIEVE IM DOING THIS!" Loud enough to hear
over the booming music, not yelling but a firm volume.  And now with the
pet in the room she was aimlessly wandering around coming close enough to
nervously open the box but then moving away, "JESUS!..." Handling a snake
for the first time is sort of like trying to cut your own hair.  You don't
really know what you're doing and you're terrified that even one small
mistake could end in disaster.  It doesn't matter that you know it doesn't
bite and its not interested in eating you, there's just all sorts of
irrational mythical and "icky"-related obstacles you have to get passed. 
Easier for Brit who had gone through most of that before, but not
necessarily easy.  But once beyond the initial familiarizing, it doesn't
allow you to be mentally comfortable, just comfortable enough to handle the
thing as you need to.  With Britney in the first red padded seat in the
first row, arm up between seats and legs open and the two of us laughing
our asses off at how ridiculous we are, trying to handle the snake and how
more ridiculous it is what she's about to do with the damn thing, there
didn't seem any reason to drink the wine I'd fetched when I also got the
scissors.  It seemed like that would be more of a christening or
celebration than a motivator.  "Just cut across the crotch itself...and
don't fuckin cut me," she joked, slightly nervous I might inadvertently
poke her.  "Hey I'm more fuckin scared of hurting you than you are!" And
with that she bit her bottom lip and watch me cut the two inches of
material that set the cloth free from going from her ass to her pubis.  I
had the tail of the snake in my hands and we were both nervously giggling
and trying to work up the necessary impulse.  "Ok....ok......ok....I'm
ready...I am...just do it...I swear...I'm ready..." And with that I began
to do something I would never have considered doing even in my freakiest
dreams.  I held the rounded reddened end of the boa to the lips of the most
famous, sexiest popstar of all time and tried to delicately, but firmly
push it inside her.  As you'd expect I'm thinking, 'what the hell am I
doing?!?!  I shouldn't be enabling her like this,' and for the first time I
started to realize I might be the one who ended up hammered in the pool,
floating around in unsalvageable regret.  But it was too late.  Britney was
already mouth wide, eyes wide, hands gripping the hand rests she could
reach, knuckles whitened and unbelievably sexy voice saying "OH MY GOD!! 
FUCK!!  NO WAY!!  NOOOOOO FUCKING WAAAAYYY" as I pushed the first two
inches into her without nearly as much finesse as I thought would be
needed. I could feel the creepy muscles of the snake undulating in my hands
unable to tell if it was attempting to move away and out of my hands or
into Britney; but as I carefully inched my hands and fingers backwards to
coax the snake forward I realized whether it was the snake or me or both of
us, at least 4 inches of the snake was inside Britney Spears and I was
equally wide-eyed, equally open-mouthed, equally aghast, horrified, turned
on, confused by my ability to find this as arousing as it was and my now
fiery eagerness to get as much of the snake inside her more than
exciting...it was simply urgent.  And yes unable to avoid thinking of her
fans and what they did or didn't think about her -- good and evil, unable
to rid myself of the images they write of her in their porn I couldn't help
but think 'JESUS IF THEY COULD SEE THIS IT WOULD SIMPLY BLOW THEIR MINDS!'
It would simply be the most jaw dropping secret unleashed in Hollywood. 
Ever!!  And whether they thought it insane or not they wouldn't be able to
help themselves they would all fall over themselves to watch it...again and
again.  But for the moment, I'm also unable to deviate from the thought,
'HOLY FUCK SHE'S ACTUALLY DOING THIS!!!......and what's more....SHE IS
LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT!" And with that mantra in my mind I'm watching as
I'm thumbing and pushing the rubbery boa into Britney and Britney is no
doubt watching it unable to stop staring aghast, horrified, turned on,
terrified and at the same time her eyes locked on where the snake ends and
she begins.  "Oooohhhh myyyy ggaaaaawwwd!" She's chanting, moaning slightly
mesmerized by the snake hanging out of her, half of which is now up inside
her guts, it's muscles undulating its tail slightly flicking as she tells
me so..."OHMYGOD!!  IT'S MOVING!  It's MOOOOVING!!  OHMYGOD IT'S MOVING UP
IN THERE!!  OMG I CAN FEEL IT SLITHERING OR WHATEVER YOU FEEL IT!!  I can
feel its tail!  It's tickling me or whatever!!  OH MY GOD!!  SERIOUSLY IT'S
LIKE RIGHT HERE!!!" And she put her fingers of her right hand on to her
lower stomach and pushed slightly.  "Right here!  There!  Oh my god!" I can
feel it!!  OH MY GOD IM SERIOUS I CAN FEEL IT WITH MY FINGERS!!!  OH MY GOD
!  JUST LIKE A BABY!!  OH MY GOD SERIOUSLY OH MY GOD THAT'S FREAKY AS
HELL!!" And as I coaxed the snake deep and realized more than half of it
was inside my popstar best friend I started to wonder how much a snake
could coil up in there, where it could go, if it could do damage, if
Britney cared, if I should even dare or bother to ask.  "OH MY GOD!!  THIS
IS SOOOOOOO FREAKY AS FUCK!!" She said squirming around uncontrollably. 
"I'm like 'pull it out OHMYGOD get it outta me!'...but I'm like
'Ohmygoddont you dare!!!'" and with some more squirming and the two us
slightly giggling uncomfortably she added, "IT'LL FEEL TERRIBLE PULLING IT
OUT!!!" And with that for the first time she let go of one armrest and
grabbed my wrist and urged me to push more aggressively and feed more of
the serpent into her.  Eyes wide, mouth wide sight fixed on the amazing
image of the majority of an entire snake into her hole, her hips began to
jerk and squirm and buck slightly as though doing so would somehow usher
the snake into her with speed and intensity.  And the "OH MY GOD!"s never
stopping, like a crazy chant or crazier broken record of horror and shame,
mixed in with arousal so intense it was sending her body into shivers and
her free hand now pushing around on various areas of her stomach trying to
locate not just the snake inside her but where elements of the snake were.
Starting to digest the snake was capable of compacting and curving itself I
think we both realized it might actually be possible to get the entire
thing inside Britney.  She started rubbing her lips and clitoris, slowly at
first, too distracted by the awesome view of the snake being gradually
pushed inside her filling up various areas of her insides, fascinated by
the ability to push against various areas of her stomach and feel it there
inside her, moving, undulating, twitching, her horrified and excited gasps
and exclamations of "OH MY FUCKING GAAAWWDDD JEEESSSUS CHRIST" quickening,
slurring, punctuated by quick whimpering "YEEESSSSSSSSSSSS"es and drool
escaping from the mouth she barely closed to even swallow, eyes still
fixated on the precipice where she and snake became part of each other, the
snake invading her, intruding into her deepest female recesses and she
unable to resist the horrifying psychological pleasure of imagining inside
her, picturing it deep within her organs, slithering, twitching, retracting
into Britney Spears as though she were a warm haven to burrow and lay its
eggs, hibernate.  The snake was almost entirely inside Britney.  Only a few
inches hung out, the head of the boa moving this way and that, Britney
simply expressing the most horrified, shocked, amazement possible to a
human face, still chanting "OOOOOHMMMYYYYGGGAAAAAWWWDDD!  It's all the way
in!!  OMG NO WAY!!!!  NOOOO WAAAAYYY!!!  ITs right up inside me all up in
here!!!" And her hand moved around pushing down, relishing the feel of the
hard rubbery serpent inside her as her fingers rubbed her clitoris
ferociously, an enormous roar erupting out of her wide open mouth as her
head meant back and then right and left, her entire body seizing while she
yelled and thrashed, her right hand rubbing, her left hand feeling around
where her opening gave way to the tube of snake filling her! 
"FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKKKKKYYYYEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!" She shrieked! 
"IT'S RIGHT UP INSIDE ME!!!! 
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!  FUCK
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK GAAAAAWWWWDDDDDDDDDDDDDAMMIT!!!!!" And as the
peak of the orgasm left and she continued to jerk and twitch herself,
snapping all sorts of expletives, she shouted, "GGGGAAAAAAWWWWWWDDDDDDD!!!!
PULL IT OUT!!!  OH MY GOD GET IT OUT OF ME!!!!" And her orgasm and
excitement moved aside just enough for the horror of what she'd done and
was doing to win out so that even though she was still bucking and her
orgasm was still in force, waning by the second, she was looking down
almost panicked, "OH MY GOD GET IT OUT PULL IT!!!" And both of us pulling
the animal who seemed more than eager to go forward, emerging by inches
from inside Britney and her cries, "OOOOOOOHHHMYYYYYYYGAAAAWWWDDD!!! 
EEEEWWWW,,,AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!  FEEEEELS HORRIBLE!!  JUST GET IT OUT!!!" And
the two of us in the midst of all the sexual horror and thrill and disgust
removing the snake as fast as 4 hands and the snake itself would allow. 
Until the last of its red round tail came out with a horrifying "pop".

   It started with a thought.  Not a good one.  Without going into the
emotional aftermath which you probably don't care about anyhow...you're
likely to think its hot for no other reason that its Britney and she's hot
as hell.  I'm embarrassed to say I agree.  

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

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