Pornography. It seems that ever since the invention of the camera and flash photography in the 1840s, there have been people willing to take their clothes off in front of them. Under the right circumstances, if you’re in the right place at the right time, just about anyone will get naked in front of a camera. And for the girl in this story, an innocent ad in the newspaper gives her an afternoon she’ll never forget. (Double Trouble! This story not only features Michael Jackson, but also his brother, Marlon Jackson!) Featuring one of the longest love scenes I’ve ever penned!
“Double Trouble”
(Based Very Loosely on an Episode of Miami Vice)
A Michael Jackson Erotic Short Story By:
MJsLoveSlave
Miami, Florida
Autumn, 1984
I wanted to be a model.
That was the entire reason I found myself in Miami to start with.
It wasn’t for a lazy vacation, where I would spend my days decorating various beaches, getting sand lodged in my ass crack and soaking up enough rays to give ten people skin cancer.
No, I wasn’t in Miami for pleasure. I was there for business.
And to try to find my fortune.
It had taken me all the summer after graduating high school, working triple shifts at a local diner to be able to afford the airfare to Miami and a decent apartment where I could live alone and not have someone crawl in through the air vents to rape me.
I was going to be a model. It was my mantra that I woke up with every morning. After the preliminary yawn, I’d whisper to myself,
“ Monique, you’re gonna be a model. ”
I told myself that every single day, as I got up and went out to all of the local agencies looking for work.
For an entire month, I went to all sorts of agencies.
And I heard every single, goddamned excuse for why no one wanted me.
I was too tall--I was five-foot-nine in my stocking feet.
I was too short--I was STILL five-foot-nine!
I was too fat.
I was too slim.
A whole bunch of bullsh*t.
And then there were the ones who didn’t really like my hair color. I was a strawberry blonde, my hair was too red to be a full on blonde, and too blonde to be a full on redhead. I had been told to cut my mid-back lenghth hair into everything from a bob, to a spiked pixie cut.
And to dye it every shade under the rainbow.
(Both of which I flat-refused to do!)
So, there I was, hanging on to my last ten-dollar bill, to the point that President Hamilton was suffocating, and trying to get by on a Ramen Noodle a day.
I had to do something. If I didn’t come up with some money, and some money fast, everything was going to unravel for me.
I needed to eat, and pay for my apartment.
And even if I did get a job at a drive-in or a store somewhere, it still wouldn’t have been enough to cover both.
I’d have to get some serious money--hopefully from a modeling job--or I’d have to call my parents in defeat and go home with my tail hanging between my legs.
I needed a miracle.
That’s when I saw it.
I had been pacing the hallway of my apartment complex, just outside of my home away from home, trying to make a bowl of Noodles last longer than they ever had before.
And that’s when I saw it.
A half-mangled newspaper, haphazardly shoved into a trash bin.
The little ad in the paper all but jumped out at me:
Even though I had never heard of the Starlight Agency before, I went on ahead and threw caution to the wind and sent in my resume and photo. Lord knows I had done it a hundred times before. The worse I could hear from this agency was what I had heard from all the others--NO.
Really, I never expected to hear Word One from the Starlight Agency.
You can imagine my surprise when a mere three days later, my phone rang.
On the other end was a soft-spoken man who introduced himself as Mr. Jackson.
He said he’d perused my resume, liked my look, and wanted to meet me as soon as possible--the very next afternoon if I could manage it.
I don’t know how I managed to remain so calm, but I think I had told Mr. Jackson yes, because he was then giving me the address to meet him.
I still remember it to this day: 18562 Marina Court.
I was ecstatic. This could have very well been the start of my career. My modeling career. I could have possibly been the next Brooke Shields, or Gia Carangi.
It was all so exciting.
Truly, I was so excited, I barely got any rest the night before. I remember, I was up until the pre-dawn hours working out, trying to knock whatever fat I believed to be clinging to my bones off, so I appeared as svelte as possible.
Then there was the hour I spent washing my hair, and another two conditioning it. (Sure the container said to leave the conditioner on only fifteen minutes, but what harm could have come from that?)
Then about a million tiny curlers went into my hair, everywhere except for my thick bangs, which I preferred to leave straight.
I tried to go to bed, but every five minutes, I was on my feet again, digging through my closet doing my best to come up with a nice and stylish outfit. I had to impress Mr. Jackson.
I needed to be signed with the Starlight Agency and make me some money.
At four in the morning, I finally decided on a simple ensemble of an off the shoulder, white sweatshirt dress, the waist cinched with a bright blue woven leather belt, that I paired with matching pumps and clutch purse.
Even though my appointment with Mr. Jackson wasn’t supposed to be until two the following afternoon, I was up and in front of my vanity, starting to apply make up and style my hair at seven in the morning.
I had to look perfect. I had to be perfect.
I couldn’t go into this half-assed and looking like who did it and why.
Everything had to go just right.
As I set out that day, in my little Hyundai, destined for Marina Court, I had no idea just what laid in wait for me.
Marina Court was not exactly what I had thought it would be.
I had expected the Starlight Agency to be in an office building, like all the other places I had tried to get signed to.
Instead, I found myself way out in Biscayne Bay at what appeared to be an upscale harbor where about a twenty yachts of varying extravagance were bobbing in the water.
I mean, seriously, who ever heard of a modeling agency that was in a yacht?
I should have known something was amiss, but I was so determined to make a success of this venture, I went on a head, down the mosaic tiled harbor, looking at the little mailboxes aside the ostentatious boats, until I located it.
18562 Marina Court.
Looking up, I had to admit, I was starting to lighten up about the idea of agency being in the yacht.
Hands down, that yacht was easily the largest one in the whole harbor.
It was absolutely massive and was a floating mansion that went on for three stories. Completely white with four large sails swaying in the cool breeze, I saw the name of the boat painted on the hull in dark red letters.
The S.S. Starlight.
Yes. I had the right place.
Unsure of just where to board the boat or try to knock, I gazed up, trying to find any signs of life on that ship.
I saw a sign of movement on the top deck.
I could just make out a Black man, with what appeared to be a glass of some sort in his hand, leaning against the railing with his back to me.
“Excuse me! Sir? Sir!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted to be heard.
At my yelling the man turned around and called back.
“Yeah?”
“I’m Monique Seaver! I have an appointment to see Mr. Jackson!”
At the mention of who I was, and whom I was seeking, the man instantly left the railing.
A moment later the same fellow appeared on the first deck and was coming over towards me, waving.
He was a handsome man, with smooth skin the color of cocoa. He had wonderful, almost delicate features, with his lips being the most noticeable to me. Large and plump his lips were, glossed just to a dull sheen, and accentuated with a pencil thin mustache.
His hair, thick, black and styled in a Jherri-Curl bounced as he came to the stern of the ship and was flipping down a small set of steps, built into ship.
Coming down them, I got a closer look at him.
I found that the man was several inches shorter than me and as he got nearer, the white wine in his glass sloshing, I noticed his eyes.
In the sunlight, they weren’t exactly brown but more of a dark honey color.
He was dressed sharply in a stylishly loose grey silk suit over a red and grey striped tee-shirt. In true Miami Vice style, he wore his grey alligator loafers with no socks.
“Mr. Jackson?” I questioned, timidly, as the man was extending a hand to me, a golden wristwatch glittering at me as I took his hand.
“I’m one of them.” The man laughed and was grinning at me broadly, white teeth flashing. “I’m Marlon Jackson. You must have spoken to my brother, Michael. He mentioned something about meeting with a prospective model. Please…” Marlon was indicating I follow him back onto the yacht.
I hung back a moment, a bit apprehensive about the whole affair.
“Is your agency really run from a boat?”
“ Lord no! ” Throwing his head back the man cackled. “It’s a Sunday afternoon; our offices are closed. We don’t typically see potential models on the weekends, but Michael must have really liked you to bring you out here. You are very pretty, Red.”
Marlon paused and was smiling at me again, with a warmth that was starting to put me at ease. Normally I didn’t like to be addressed as “Red” because of my hair, but for some reason, when Marlon said it, it was alright.
“Follow me, unless you plan to be reviewed right here in the harbor.” I was winked at before, Marlon turned and was going back up the steps.
He was a flirty little son of a gun.
Shrugging to myself, I started after him.
“I’ll place you in my brother’s office and go get him. I think he’s having a late lunch.” Marlon was explaining as he led me up onto the middle deck and to a set of French doors accented with doorknobs made to look like a ships’ steering wheel.
“Thank you…” I replied, loosening up, but still guarded.
I was quiet as Marlon opened the door, revealing Michael Jackson’s nautical themed office.
The room was dressed in shades of navy blue with golden accents and cherry wood all over the place.
The centerpiece of the office was the large oak desk in which I was seated in a tufted arm chair in front of.
On top of the desk was a large bottle, in which a tiny replica of the RMS Titanic had been erected in.
“Michael will be in shortly, Red.” Marlon informed me, and was gone before I could reply.
Sitting there twiddling my thumbs, it was then I noticed I was being watched.
I don’t know how I managed to miss it, but on the wall behind Michael’s big, blue leather chair, was an oversized portrait of the man himself.
Michael Jackson, matching the theme of the room, was dressed like a captain, in a navy, crested blazer, over a red sweater and white shirt.
Like Marlon, Michael was just as handsome, but there was a difference to Michael.
While Marlon had delicate features, Michael’s were even more fine. Almost at the hint of femininity, he was so pretty. I don’t think Michael and Marlon were twins, perhaps, just close in age.
A slightly lighter shade than Marlon, everything about Michael seemed a bit more fine tuned than Marlon. His nose was slimmer, cheeks more hollow, lips a mite slimmer. Even his hair, in a curl like Marlon’s was looser, a bit longer and more perfectly arranged.
Hell, it even looked as though Michael were wearing make up, as his cheeks seemed redder than normal for a man, and I was sure he was wearing eyeliner.
He was just stunning and I wondered if he’d dabbled in being a model himself.
Anyone with eyes could see he and Marlon were extremely attractive men.
“ Monique? ”
At the sweet, high-pitched mention of my name, I turned my attention from the portrait and saw that the real thing had arrived.
Advancing towards me, with a jolly smile on his face, was Michael Jackson.
Dressed down considerably more than his brother, Michael wore a simple black mohair sweater over a white oxford shirt, with black slacks, white socks and shiny patent leather loafers.
Attached to his chest, a gilded brooch fixed with onyx stones was gleaming.
“Yes? Mr. Jackson?” I rose from my seat as he got to me and was eagerly shaking my hand.
“Please…call me Michael--I’m only twenty-six years old. Mr. Jackson makes me sound old!” He chuckled good naturedly and was leaning against the front of his desk as I took a seat again.
Michael was only twenty-six? And he really owned a legitimate agency?
God, I hoped I hadn’t just stepped into something I couldn’t get out of.
“I’m so glad you found the place okay. I know it’s a little unorthodox, trying for a modeling agency on a yacht, but our main offices are closed.” Michael apologized and I nodded.
“Yes, your brother told me you were closed.” I replied, before adding.
“Marlon mentioned you didn’t usually see people on Sundays.”
Michael was nodding emphatically, the hair all over his head swaying. I noticed a few strands fell across his forehead in the most becoming way.
“That’s true--but I really did like your look--” Michael trailed off as Marlon suddenly entered, carrying a tray boasting three glasses of white wine.
“Care for a drink, Monique? This is some of that private stock--1976,” Marlon bragged and was holding the tray for me to take a glass.
Not intending to drink, but wanting to be polite I took a glass and set it on the top of the desk.
The Jackson brothers each took one of the remaining glasses, with Marlon taking a seat in the other guest chair, and Michael was taking his place behind his desk.
“Now, Monique, when I got your resume and photo, it really did catch my attention…” Michael started and was digging in a drawer on his desk.
I watched as he placed several toys--a G.I. Joe figure, a pair of chattering teeth and yo-yo on the desk top before coming up with the manila folder I had sent my papers to him in.
I watched quietly, as he opened the envelope and came out with my typed resume and color headshot.
“Let’s see, I just want to confirm some things…” Michael was squinting at the paper.
I noticed Marlon appeared bored, slumping casually in the chair beside mine and was sipping his wine, silently.
“It says here you were born in ‘65...you’re nineteen years old?” Michael questioned.
“Yes, I turned nineteen in May.” I replied and tossed my hair nervously.
“Five-foot-nine in stocking feet…110 pounds…” Michael was murmuring over the paper. “Redhead. I like your red hair. There’s not enough Gingers in fashion or entertainment for my taste.”
He informed me as he brought his head up, face serious. “All I’ve seen is that little, pout-mouthed, angst-ridden b*tch-- Molly Ringwald? That’s the only redhead I’ve seen in years. And your hair’s a unique color. Not really, really red. What exactly do you call that color?”
Michael inquired and was squinting between me and my photo.
“Strawberry blonde…” I heard myself squeak, still full of nerves. I was at least relieved he found my hair color a strong point.
“Is it naturally curly, or set it with rollers?” Michael was rubbing his chin in thought.
“Rollers--”
“What color are your eyes? They look green here.” Michael was observing my photo closely.
“They’re hazel.” I was saying as Michael suddenly rose up and was looming over me, staring into my eyes.
“They’re hazel-flecked. Not fully hazel.” I was corrected, as Michael once again sat against the front of his desk.
“What kind of modeling are you interested in, Monique? Runway, print?” Michael was absently picking at the pin on his chest.
“I’m…I’m not sure…” I admitted timidly. “Where do you think I’d go best at?”
“Um…” Michael grew quiet and began nibbling on his bottom lip. “Marlon and I represent about seventy-five women at the moment, and about six men, all of whom do various forms of modeling. I can show you some of the work.”
Once again Michael was behind his desk digging in another drawer. This time several toy cars were placed on the desk top, before Michael came up with a large leather bound book.
Waving me over, I stood at Michael’s side as he opening the book, showing a woman in designer jeans ad. In Japanese.
“You see, we have ties to a lot of foreign commercial markets. We do all sorts of things. Jeans, sneakers, cosmetics, hair care products…” Michael was flipping through the book and showing more, tastefully done, wonderfully orchestrated photographs. “Runway…overseas, the wholesome look, like you’ve got sells big time. Americana, apple pie. Typically a blonde, but I wanted a redhead specifically.”
The more I was seeing, the more I was liking. The more I was getting to the idea that yes, I wanted to sign with the Starlight Agency.
And then the page was flipped and I put my hands to my face in shock.
Draped across the hood of a white corvette, was a topless woman, wearing nothing more than a pair of polka dotted panties, looking more hooker than high-fashion.
“Er…um…” Michael quickly did damage control, explaining. “I take care of the higher end of modeling. Marlon handles this sort of thing.”
He was turning the book and showing his brother the photo.
“Yeah, I handle things like glamour modeling and the chicks you see working bikini shoots and car shows. I work with those sort of girls. Michael and I dabble in all forms of modeling.” Marlon spoke up and was polishing off his wine. “We’ve supplied quite a few girls to the adult market to grand success.”
Adult market? Did he mean porn stars? My head was swimming. Was I going to be turned into a porn star? I didn’t want that!!!!
“I’m not into posing topless or anything…I just want to do high-fashion. Like in Vogue.” I spoke up immediately, quite certain I didn’t want to appear in anything that would shame my parents.
“Eh…” Marlon ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I wouldn’t recommend you for glamour modeling or porn anyway. You’re too small-busted.” He commented and stung, I went to say something spiteful.
“ Marlon! Damn it! ” Michael grunted, exasperated and snatched the glass form his brother. “Don’t insult Monique. She could be an asset to us and you’ll run her off! Shut the hell up! ”
A thick, arched brow went up, and stony-faced, Marlon rose from his seat.
Glancing at me, he coolly asked of me,
“Why won’t you pose topless? You scared? Afraid of shaming someone? Got a crazy boyfriend tucked away somewhere? You’ve got a decent body, even if your titties are a little on the small side--”
I stared down into Marlon’s face as he was peering up at me boldly, not exactly sure if I should have replied, as much as given him a back handed slap.
“ I’m warning yo’ ass! I’ll throw you outta here! ” Michael was threatening through gritted teeth. “ Why the f*ck I let you in the wine in the first place? ”
Honey eyes drifted from me and to Michael who stood over bother Marlon and me.
“Can I have a word with you-- privately ?” Marlon wondered and was moving to a far corner of the room.
Setting his book down, Michael gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before stalking over to join his brother.
I was quite certain that the two of them had planned to keep whatever words that were exchanged between the two of them, but I heard every single thing that was said.
And it quickly became apparent at least what part of their game was.
“ Marlon, are you outside your f*cking mind? I’m five minutes away from signing this girl and you want to go off pulling this stunt--again? I won’t let you! ” Michael was saying stubbornly, arms crossing, finely arched brows flexing in defiance.
Hand on hip, Marlon patted Michael in his chest rather hard.
“ Don’t go copping out on me with that innocent ass sh*t. You’re only fourteen months younger than me. We both got the same blood in us. And I know the minute you looked at old Red over there, your d*ck got so hard you near about had a stroke! ” Marlon pointed out and I saw Michael become visibly shaken.
I was shaken myself. Were these men really saying what I thought they were?
I watched, starting to feel drained as Michael was wildly waving his hands over his head.
“ No…no! We can’t do this! Not to this girl…Marlon she’s nineteen! She’s probably never even had a man…We can’t just go jumping on her!”
The mention of my age seemed to agitate Marlon more and he leapt on the defensive.
“ Why the hell you keep harping on that nineteen sh*t? Yo’ ass acting like we’re some old ass N(bad words)! We’re twenty-six and twenty-seven. And that girl is a legal adult. You need to calm the f*ck down. She ain’t a baby. That’s a woman over there. And as fine as she is, maybe she wants to be jumped on.” Marlon was reasoning., putting his arm around Michael and both were openly staring at me.
Were Marlon and Michael really discussing, having sex with me? It was strange and I knew I should have been scared because I was alone on a big boat that could easily set sail anywhere on the planet with what could wind up being a couple of perverts!
But even stranger, I was finding myself flattered, believe it or not, at the idea that these two men, who were so good looking it was ridiculous for attractiveness like that to be contained all in one family, seemed to be into me.
“ I don’t want that girl to think she has to sleep with us to get a modeling contract, cause it’s not true. You know good and damn well I don’t work like that. I’m legit. I am legit-- ” Michael swiftly shoved Marlon and he slammed into a wall, a painting of a duck falling to the floor.
“ And your little horny ass should be too! ”
Michael was punched in the shoulder and spun, landing on a couch on the opposite end of the room.
No longer trying to mask his voice, Marlon shrieked,
“I am legit, b*tch! As legit as you! Even more so because I’m up front with my sh*t. Watch.” Marlon wagged a finger, before turning to me.
“Hey Monique, don’t know if you realize it or not, but you make both me and my brother get hard--”
“ You want to do me?” I spoke over him and was shyly twirling a lock of my hair.
“Well, hell yeah--”
“Am I guaranteed a contract? Like Michael said--regardless if I sleep with you or not?”
“ Yes--you don’t have to do this! I want you as a model. Not a plaything! ” Michael was staggering to his feet, seeming to be in a daze over what was going on in that office. Right then. Right there.
A strange sexual notion with a Twilight Zone twist to it.
I should have been the one in a daze. At least I had to have been to say what I said next.
“If you guys sign me, to a legitimate high fashion contract, with good steady jobs and good steady pay…then…” My hands were nearly bleeding I was wringing them so hard. I couldn’t believe what I was saying myself. But I had to survive.
“ Then…you can have me .” I barely heard myself mumble the last line.
But it was all Marlon needed to hear.
“Hot diggity damn!” He fairly yelled before rushing over and wrapping his arms around me, kissing wildly at my throat.
Hanging off the couch, I could see a soft, yet pleased smile easing onto Michael’s pinkish mouth.
Had I really just agreed to have sex with not only two men--but two brothers at that?
What had I gotten myself into?
“… the hell you want man? Heads or tails?”
Marlon Jackson was demanding as he was digging into the pocket of his trousers trying to come up with a coin.
I had been led below the decks of the yacht, to what I assumed were where the bedrooms were located. I found myself in a long, wood-paneled hallway, three closed doors on each side.
Finally, Marlon came up with a silver half-dollar piece.
“Tails…I want tails.” Michael was deciding as I leaned against the wall, watching.
I knew I should have been offended at the idea that they were flipping a coin to see who got me first. But I was wasn’t. I was actually kind of excited. I had been with men before, but never this quickly. And yet it felt right.
The only thing that had offended me was that, before they resorted to coin tossing, they had played Rock, Paper, Scissors upstairs.
Both Jacksons each wore a light bruise on their cheeks as they squabbled about who had won the game. And me.
“One toss b*tch. None of that two out of three sh*t. I ain’t got time for that. ‘Bout to explode here!” Marlon was rubbing at the coin in his hands.
Tossing his head, Michael growled, “Man, toss the f*cking coin and quit fondling it!”
“I’m doing it! Don‘t make me toss you!”
“I wish like hell you would and see won’t I break your ass!”
The coin was a slice of silver in the air as Marlon flicked it.
We all held our breath as the coin twirled before coming down and rolling to a halt, bumping against my shoe.
“What’s it say? What is it?” Michael and Marlon were both clamoring over to me, both trying to get a glimpse at the coin.
Marlon was hooting with glee when he saw the coin had come out as “Heads”, meaning he’d won.
“Oh yeah! Hot ass!” Marlon, obviously aroused, was clapping his hands before making his way to the door in the middle of the hall, on the right side and letting himself in, leaving me out with Michael.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Michael wondered as he gently patted my cheek with a soft hand. “Because I can stall him long enough for you to leave.”
Looking up into Michael’s dark eyes, I noticed there was a sweetness there that his brother seemed to lack. I think I like him better than Marlon.
“ Yes, it’s fine. I don’t mind. I want to.”I whispered, feeling warm near him.
“Take this…” Michael was pulling his sweater off over his head and handing it to me. “He’s gonna get you naked…and it gets kinda cool this time of the year--”
Michael stopped abruptly, as I leaned over and mashed my lips to his, kissing him and silencing him.
Our lips lingered a moment dancing across each other. Michael’s mouth was so soft and sweet, tasting of the wine he’d been drinking.
Pulling my mouth away, I confessed,
“I’ve wanted to do that since I met you.”
Eyes wider than ever, Michael was breathless.
“Me too.”
“ Red! ” I heard Marlon call impatiently.
“I’m going to him, but I’ll come to you…soon enough I vowed to Michael, as I turned and went into Marlon’s bedroom.
The last thing I saw as I closed the door behind me, was Michael leaning against the wall, watching me with the same smile I had seen him wearing in his office.
So sweet and kind.
Marlon on the other hand was an unchained beast.
In a room of reds and golds Marlon Jackson was practically already nude when I entered.
Standing atop a bed, with it’s satin sheets thrown back Marlon had stripped down to his underwear, if you could call it that.
Marlon, though on the short side, boasted a wonderfully muscular and toned body. Smooth, tightened pectorals and well-defined abs greeted me.
As my eyes washed down the surface of that lovely body, a fire quickly igniting within me--(and perhaps about to burn my panties to cinders)--I took notice of Marlon’s groin.
The man was just barely contained in a tiny pair of red and black zebra print bikini underwear.
Seeing the large bulge protruding from him startled me a bit. I hadn’t expected him to be that big…
“Come on Red, Baby…” Marlon was urging, licking those plump, sumptuous lips, as he leapt down off the bed and was sauntering towards me.
Marlon went to kiss me, and I ducked out the way, amused that he was sticking his tongue out at nothing but air.
“Do you even remember my name? Or do you keep calling me Red, cause you can’t recall it?” I teased as Marlon was wrapping his arms around me, hugging me to his body, which smelled of a bright, and crisp citrus cologne.
“Your name is Monique Seaver. I remember. I just like Red better.”
Rough hand gripping my chin, Marlon was pressing those, incredibly tender, big lips of his against mine, with such force, it took all the strength right out of my knees, causing me to sag in his arms.
I was pushed against the closed door as Marlon placed a hand on the back of my neck, forcing my face harder against his, and was plunging his tongue, warm and damp into the depths of my throat. Wrapping my arms around his own neck, the wetness of all the product in his hair rubbing off on my arms, I clung to him, accepting his mouth, the taste of him, and how he felt to me.
How wonderful.
I’m still not quite sure, but I found myself undressed, completely bare in front of Marlon Jackson.
To this day, I can’t recall how my clothes came off and were draped over the back of the chair at the small writing desk in the corner of the room, with Michael’s black swear tossed on the top of the heap.
Marlon’s hands were instantly on my breasts and I banged against the door as he began kneading them like little mounds of pink dough.
“ Sh*t. I hate I made that remark about you having little titties …” Marlon chuckled, his voice dropping a few octaves as he leaned and was smooching at my left breast. “ These are just fine. ”
“I’ve heard all kinds of sh*t about them, trying to get into modeling.” I shrugged as Marlon was brushing my hair off my shoulders and out the way.
“You don’t have to worry about that…” Marlon pinched my nipple and I jumped as a little shock ran the length of my spine. “You’re gonna be signed. Michael’s probably pulling the papers up now….” Marlon traced my lips with his fingertip. “You’ve got such a sweet mouth--yes.”
Leaning in close to me our eyes locked, and one low command flowed from his mouth.
“ I…I want you to suck me, Red. You have to…I liked to be sucked before I f*ck something as sweet as you.”
His hand gripped mine and he was leading to the bed, indicating I get in.
Crawling into the bed--which turned out to be a sloshing waterbed--I started to sit on my knees for Marlon.
“No, lie on your back, with your head towards the foot of the bed.” Marlon was telling me and as I laid down, he stood off to the side, sliding his underwear down his thick, thigh, allowing me to catch a glimpse of his private area for the first time.
(Author’s Note: I had a giggling fit trying to figure out how Marlon should look and this is what I came up with.)
A patch of trimmed triangular patch of hair adorned his groin, right above his d*ck. A d*ck that was no gripped in Marlon’s hand and was being stroked at, though it was already stiffened and full of life. That long, brown lump of meat dangling between his legs, was uncircumcised and as he toyed with himself, the tip, a few shades darker than the rest of him in his arousal was peeking out at me the little foreskin flicking back and forth over it.
It was one of the largest c*cks I had ever seen in my life. I just hoped I didn’t choke on it.
I went to grab after him, feeling almost hypnotized by that stretch of flesh, but my hand was slapped away and instead, Marlon was shoving his girth past my lips and trying to force it down my throat.
As he rocked his hips, gently as first, against me, easing himself in and out of my mouth, having intercourse with my mouth in a way, I clutched after his hips and eventually his hard, toned buttocks. Those lovely round globes of pure muscle.
“Yes…Yes. That’s it Red. Oh sh*t. That’s it right there. Yes…suck me.” Marlon was urging in a hushed tone, and looking up at him, I saw he had his head thrown back, those perfect lips of his puckered nearly a foot away from his face.
He was tweaking his own, little brown nipples in ecstasy as I was leaning on my side, going after him, sucking hard, pleasing him as best I could.
He was so sexy.
“Oh…Red…god damn…you suck so good. Suck this d*ck. Suck it Baby…”
Marlon said, and I felt his hand on my abdomen.
“[I] Marlon !” I quite literally spit him out, when I felt his fingertips touch my cl*t.
“ Wait--stop! ” I begged as he was leaned over me, playing between my legs, one hand rubbing after me and was forcing fingers on the other deep into me.
“I don’t know the word stop.” Marlon said simply and I found myself with him forcing that c*ck back into my mouth. “Such a nice little p*ssy. Damn if Michael can’t pick’em! Oooh, sh*t!”
I half-moaned, half-sucked as Marlon continued fingering me, my toes curling in an effort to control myself.
“I want you to get nasty…I need some nastiness today.” Marlon confided, pulling his hands from me and gripping the sides of my face, now flipping his hips back and forth, pushing himself in and out my warm, waiting mouth.
“Harder! Suck it harder! Harder, b*tch!” He was demanding, now bumping himself against me so hard, his balls, round and fuzzy, were bumping my chin.
Marlon was staring down at me, his lips, now wet, were curled back into a snarl as he was watching me going down on him.
“ Eat me….eat me, Red. Eat me…oh! Oh! Oh! ” Marlon had been exclaiming, when suddenly, he started trembling. What I was doing was getting good to him. Too good, too quickly.
“ Oh! Oh my God! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Marlon ripped his meat from my mouth, glimmering with my saliva and was stroking at himself with one hand.
“ God damn! I’m gonna come! I’m gonna come! Holy f*cking sh*t!”
Head bobbing back and forth, hair going wild, Marlon was trying to control himself. Reaching out, I began tickling at Marlon’s balls, causing him to shriek at the top of his lungs.
“ Don’t touch my nuts! AH! AH! OH! OH MY GAWD! OOOOOOOH!”
With that one last howl escaping those blubbering lips, Marlon began to ejaculate.
“ Oh! Don’t--stop!” I gasped as the droplets of white warmness were hitting me directly in the face. I tried to turn my head, but Marlon made a point of holding my face directly under the leaking tip of his. I was scratching at his wrists, drawing blood. I didn’t wanted to drown like that under him!
“Oh god damn…help me…damn…” Marlon was whispering as he was milking himself, before patting his moist mushroom-head tip against my lips.
The minute he let go of me, I was up and delivered a stinging slap to his face.
“Don’t ever do that again! I almost inhaled that sh*t!” I cried, and was trying to wipe him from my face..
I whirled and landed on the bed, as without warning, Marlon slapped me back and I sprawled on my stomach on the bed, hand clasping my cheek, which was stinging violently.
“If you don’t like the way I take “head”, then you should have never let me put my d*ck in your mouth.” I was told and I felt Marlon put his hand on my back. “But you were good, Red. So, so very good.”
I laid there stunned and was aware of the sound of Marlon walking away from me. Behind me I heard the sound of running water.
Marlon returned, and pulled me into a seated position. He had a small, damp, green towel in his hand and began wiping my face off. Cleaning my face.
Cleaning the sexual residue from my face.
“My brother likes to kiss…I know he doesn’t want to taste me anywhere on you.” Marlon was chortling as he lifted my bangs and was wiping my forehead. “I like you, Honey.”
Tossing the towel down, Marlon came up with a shot glass that contained a blue liquid. Tilting the glass to my mouth, he instructed of me.
“Swish this, then swallow it. It’s Listerine. All the little Marlon germs will die off.”
That tickled me so much, I almost spit the mouthwash back into his face, I was laughing so hard.
“{I] Marlon germs! ” I repeated and was doubling over as Marlon was retrieving Michael’s black sweater for me.
As I slipped it on, he lamented,
“There’s only three of us on the whole damn ship and you can’t run around naked. Michael‘s room is across the hall.”
I was hugged against Marlon again, and he smacked my lips.
“We should do this again, don’t you think?” He questioned, his gorgeous eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. and being flirty, I said nothing, only giving him a wink as started out the room, jumping as he clapped my behind. Hard.
Crossing the hallway, I leaned against the closed door to Michael’s room, feeling guilty for a brief moment about what I was doing. Just what I was doing. It was so taboo. So dirty.
Yet, I was really getting pleasure out of what I was doing, probably because it was so bad.
I was weird like that.
It was about to get weirder.
Raising my hand, I knocked on the wooden door.
“ Entrez-vous! ” I heard Michael call to me in French, and opening the door, I found myself looking on into Michael’s Jackson’s room.
Like his office, it was done in shades of navy, with white accents. The centerpiece of his room was the large, canopied bed, covered from bow to stern in white silk.
In the center of the bed, with the sheets covering his lower half, Michael Jackson sat, propped against about a dozen plump pillows.
Oh he was so beautiful, much slimmer than Marlon, but just as toned. More toned than muscular really.
He really did appear like something out of a dream, lying there, one hand to his soft, smooth chest, long finger stroking over his left nipple.
“You’re finally here. I’ve waited for you, Monique.” He stated in his quiet way and was flipping the covers back, revealing his perfect and delicate nude body to me.
Unlike his brother, Michael had no body hair on his crotch at all, just a smooth, unadorned pubis. Like Marlon, Michael did possess an inhumanly large p*nis, that was also uncircumcised, and limp, it swayed between his hard thighs as he strode over to me.
Hands on trimmed supple hips, Michael asked as he loomed close to me,
“My brother didn’t hurt you, did he? Sometimes he gets kind of rough with the girls.”
“No…” I began and my eyes drifted from Michael to an apparatus positioned next to the bed.
I squinted a moment, not sure what I was seeing was real.
“Is…is that a camera on a tripod?” I wondered, still not sure.
“Yes--” I interrupted Michael.
“No, you’re not filming me. I’m not a porn star! I’m here to model. Not do porn man--” I started to flee, but Michael was gripping my arm with such pressure, I could feel blood vessels starting to burst and leave bruises.
“ No one will see this. This is for my benefit. I wanted to try something different…and I wanted to see how it looked on film. No one will see this…please Monique. The only porn stars here will be us.” The man whispered, nearly pleading.
“What…what did you want to try?” I wondered, not fully convinced.
Putting his hands down at the hem of the sweater, Michael was yanking it off over my head.
His mouth, hot and moist bumped my earlobe as Michael continued to whispered.
“You’ll see…”
“Mike!” I screamed as he took my arm with both hands and literally threw me across the room.
I landed in the bed with a thud, bouncing as it was a water bed, too, the mattress waving wildly.
Running his hands through his hair, Michael was taking his own sweet time coming back to the bedside, watching me carefully with those large, dark eyes of his.
Climbing into the bed, he rolled onto his side and was grabbing me, kissing me. His kisses were gentle compared to Marlon’s but he was a fan of Frenching just the same and was stroking his tongue over mine earnestly.
His hands were gliding all over my body, and I swear one of his fingers entered my ass more than once.
I embraced him, enjoying the taste of his mouth--he had to have chewed some bubble gum or something as it tasted so damned sweet.
“God, you’re so pretty…” Michael gasped coming up for air before putting his head down and trying to suck my areolas right off my breasts.
“Such cute titties…oh my god…” He was mashing after my chest with one hand, and with the other he was starting to pinch on the flesh that were his engorged testicles.
In response to the sensation, Michael’s p*nis was going hard and growing by a couple of more inches--that man was truly mammoth. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with me, but I was pretty much game for anything.
“I love little pink, p*ssies like yours…” Michael commented and with the open palm of his hand was rubbing at my c*nt.
“ Oh…Mike …” I whimpered, still high off of Marlon, the feeling multiplying as I laid beside him allowing him to rub me in that way.
Unwillingly, I was shifting my hips as he continued touching after me.
“Did Marlon f*ck you?” He inquired, still fondling me.
“ No…oh! Oh Michael!” I buried my head into his musky-scented shoulder as he continued playing with me.
His curls brushed my cheek as he told me, his voice heavier,
“ I want to eat you, Monique…and I want you to give me a blow job at the same time.”
My head came up in an instant and I stared at him curiously.
Did…did Michael Jackson just tell me he wanted us to “69” each other?
Michael’s eyes were so heavy-lidded with hotness, they were nearly closed.
I could only look on as he was sliding down in the bed, off the pillows, so that he laid flat.
“Come on, now. Right now. Now, Baby.” He was motioning me with one hand, while rubbing on that throbbing hunk of manhood that passed as his c*ck.
It was a bit awkward with the two of us trying to get situated into position, with Michael on the bottom, large hands grasping my ass, leaving my p*ssy open over his face.
“Great view…beautiful view…” Michael was cooing and looking at the space between us, I could see him staring up into me, pink tongue wetting his lips in earnest.
(Author’s Note: I can’t stop laughing and I don’t know why!)
On my end, I was face to face with Michael’s thick, quivering d*ck, and his slim legs were flexing back and forth in anticipation.
Somehow, I brought myself to allow Michael’s big c*ck into my mouth and was starting to suck on him.
At the same time I nearly his the ceiling as Michael, hands pressing down on my ass cheeks, was forcing me down onto his mouth.
Straightaway, I felt Michael plunging his tongue past my inner folds and deeply inside of me.
Under me, Michael was thrusting his hips, making his p*nis flip back and forth in my mouth, and so far down my throat, I gagged several times.
I couldn’t get away from Michael to save my life, or what he was doing to me.
He had his arms wrapped around my waist, holding me in position.
Michael was so deep into me it was a wonder he could even breathe.
And was he was doing. I couldn’t really tell. The way that man’s tongue could move, it was killing me.
One moment it was flashing in and out of me, like a small pink d*ck of its own, and then it was stabbing right in the dead center of my cl*t, causing me to scream around Michael, all before going back inside of me.
Finally I couldn’t take it, and let go of Michael’s meat, my hands to my face, groaning into his crotch.
“ Oh…Michael….Michael, stop. Please stop! Stop it!” I begged as I was swiftly becoming overwhelmed.
Taking his mouth from me, I caught sight of Michael sucking on his three middle fingers before they were used to penetrate me.
“ Yes! Yes! Yes! Look at that! Look at that! Come, Monique! Bring it home! Come! ” He was urging over and over, almost like a chant. He was almost craving an orgasm.
And at the rate he was going, he wasn’t going to have wait long for one either.
All at once, I was racked.
“MICHAEL! AH! AH! AH! AH! OH! OH! SH*T! OH!”
I screamed and was hugging his thigh as I began hitting my peak and my lustful liquids were squirting from me.
“ God damn! ” I heard Michael sputtering as he was becoming drenched. “ What the f*cking hell?”
I was shoved away from Michael and I saw the extent of the damage I had done to him as he sat up, completely covered, his hair, face and chest dripping.
Was he angry with me? I couldn’t control how my body reacted when I was that turned on.
Michael spit a stream of the fluid across the room before using the sheets to wipe at his face.
“Holy sh*t that was awesome. I’ve never had a girl do that. Power P*ssy!”
He laughed and clapped his hands, pointing at his still hard c*ck.
“Finish me.”
The mood lightened as Michael was pulling me down onto his manhood, holding my hair up and out the way as I went back to going to town on him.
“ Get it girl. Get it Monique! That’s what I like, that’s how I like it. Hee! ”
I felt Michael rubbing his hand against me again as I sat on my hands and knees, suckling him.
“ That’s it. That’s it! Go! God! Go!” Michael’s rubbing became intensified and unable to control myself, I was spraying his bed sheets a second time, turning my head to scream in sexual agony.
“ Michael! Damn you!”
“You’re my own little sprinkler system. I love it!” Michael gasped and took hold of his d*ck.
“Suck on the tip. Just the tip. I’m gonna show you something.”
Doing as I was told, I kept my lips on just the tip of Michael’s thang, like he was some fleshy lollipop.
Hands on his thick shaft, Michael began stroking himself rapidly.
I became aware of his other hand on the back of my head.
“I’m about to come…I’m gonna come. And you’re gonna swallow it. I know you didn’t swallow Marlon--he likes for girls to wear it. I like to watch them swallow it. Oh ****! ” Michael grunted and his c*ck was squeaking he was stroking it so hard.
Body beginning to lurch, Michael began swearing a blue streak so loudly, I was sure the entire harbor heard him.
“ YEAH! YEAH! THAT’S WHAT I;M TALKING ABOUT! AAOW! AAOW! AAOW! HEE! HEE! HEE! SH*T! SH*T! GOD DAMN! AAAAAAH!”
Rapidly my mouth began filling with Michael’s hot seed, as it was squirting from him.
So much so that I began strangling on it and fighting against Michael, I pulled free of him, as more semen continued pouring from him.
Automatically Michael’s hand was over my mouth, to keep me from spitting.
“ Swallow it…swallow it, Monique, damn you.” He said so calmly it frightened me. “I wanna hear you swallow it. You spit it out and I’ll make you do this again.”
Somehow, someway, I managed to take in that salt-tinged fluid, and satisfied, Michael Jackson released my head, hugging me against his damp body.
“You have to learn what pleases me. What I like.” He was stroking my hair as he spoke. “You have to know, because this isn’t the first or last time this will happen. You understand?” He questioned seriously, and without waiting my answer, was kissing me with a fiery passion.
I stayed on the S.S. Starlight that night. In Michael Jackson’s room.
The next morning, as promised, I was signed to the Starlight Agency.
Not as a glamour model, or pornographic model. But as a real, high-fashion/runway model. As I signed my contract, Michael told me just knew we’d be a success together, both as professionally and romantically.
I stayed on with the agency for the next fifteen years. A fifteen years that included a strict and solid relationship with Michael Jackson.
I never had another encounter with Marlon Jackson after that first night on the ship.
And that was probably for the best, as I am no longer Monique Seaver.
I go by Mrs. Michael Jackson these days.
And I never had to eat another Ramen Noodle as long as I lived!
The End
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