Star Dust
Copyright© 2015 by Sumner Night
Chapter 1
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Star Dust is a world famous recording artist but she's always lost out in the love department. Ian Astor is a renegade Hollywood director with a romantic reputation to match. When these two team up for a music video, sparks fly. Can they make a long distance relationship work? Find out. read their story, access their private emails, voicemails and texts.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Oh myyyy. I can't believe I'm admitting this. Can't believe I'm going to let you see it. Please, promise me. You won't tell anyone. Promise?
Thank you!
Why am I asking you to keep this on the dl? I mean, anyone's life might get torn apart if certain things were leaked to social media, right? It is out of control. Look at James Franco's Instagram scandal? Poor Jimmy. {{{Just so you know, he's even dreamier in person!}}}
You've heard it before, right? According to PR gods, any publicity is good publicity. That doesn't mean it feels good when your personal life, your torrid mistakes, are spread across magazines and laptops for everyone and your mom to see. And heaven forbid horrible pictures. Double chins, drunk face, or some photo taken out of context. Did anyone ever post a terrible pic of you online??
It's the worst!
I know about big scale media stuff because, the plain truth is ... I'm kinda famous.
Okay, that's an understatement. I'm really famous. You know who I am.
I'm not being conceited, it's just that if you listen to the radio, you've heard my music. If you watch MTV award shows or youtube, you've seen me perform and my vids. Who knows? Maybe you've downloaded my music or you've been to one of my concerts? If so, I hope you had fun. I heart my fans!!!
I performed last night.
Wanna see what it looked like?
Yes
no
Look at this gorgeous crowd!
This was snapped right before I came out. I'm in India right now, doing surprise pop-up shows to promote my new album. I performed for an Indian awards show in Goa, last night. The stage sat right on the beach. It was humid, sticky and hedonistic, just how I like it.
A good concert is like delicious sex. The audience and I come together, we exchange energy on an orgasmic level. My musicians, dancers, and I whip everyone into a frenzy, teasing them with stories and songs. By the time I play my most popular tracks, the stuff everyone wants to hear, they go insane and I'm dripping, giving them everything I've got.
Music is my life. My obsession. I don't do it for the fame. Not for the money. Not for the clothing (well, maybe a little for the clothes you haven't lived until you've felt the crush of a Valentino Red).
Have u worn valentino??
Valentino makes you feel like the most powerful femme fatale alive!
I looooove the clothing. My wardrobe, makeup and hair is like protective armor. It shields the inner me, the part I don't share with my fans.
Right now, my hair is a shiny, purply, black, cut razor sharp at my shoulders. Underneath, it's plain old brown.
I'd sing for free even if no one paid me. Music consumes me. It literally reverberates under my skin and pumps my blood. Singing is the only way to exorcise it. Then I find peace.
To read this story you need a
Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In
or Register (Why register?)
