Lust, as Webster defines it, is a strong sexual desire without idealized or spiritualized feelings.

Lust is inarguably the most dangerous feeling a person can harbor. Lust, a very humanly emotion, can turn inhumane, turning average men to savage beasts. That was exactly how I was feeling. It was late at night. Perhaps 3:00am. I had no idea. I had just capitalized on an opportunity that came knocking on my door. Just a little after midnight, I heard a knocking on the door. I opened the door and was delightfully greeted by a charming blonde. Nick Carter would inevitably become one of my greatest conquests.

Having a job as the popular Total Request Live Host had its perks, among them, the easy access to young stars. To this date, I had been blessed with the opportunities to fulfill my sexual desires with such names as Jeff Timmons, Drew Lachey, Brian Littrell, Kevin Richardson, AJ MacLean, Usher Raymond, Leonardo Dicarprio and now Nick Carter. As I etched Nick's name on my little black book I often passed as my bible studies book, desires of ravishing his body suddenly washed over me. Although both boys were very alike, Nick came no way near Justin. Both boys were the "babies" of their respective groups. Both boys were blonde with blue eyes. Both boys stood at six foot. Whereas Nick was a bit fleshy, Justin was blessed with the body of a modern-day adonis. Having Nick in the bedroom sound asleep was convenient as I popped in the video. I must have watched "Tearin' Up My Heart" for the one millionth time. Still, it never got old. I had the volume turned down. I could care less about his talent or lack thereof. Honestly, I found his voice annoying. I could never listen to him sing without cringing in pain. I hated his voice that much. If I had to choose a boyband to hail as the most talented, it would be 98 degrees and even 98 degrees were of mediocre level. I was more fond of the likes of Korn and Smash Mouth. Of all boyband members, I could honestly say for a fact that I admire JC Chasez's voice. His voice is that of an angel. But my heart was set on the boy with the face of an angel. Justin Timberlake.

I first heard of 'N Sync during my first real year of being the popular MTV host sometime in March. Within weeks, "I Want You Back" soared to the top ten of the popular show. I remembered seeing the dewey eyed youth for the first time and instantly found myself drowning in his deep blue eyes. Having been brought into the world as a good Catholic God-fearing young man, I've been successfully thus far in repressing my intense infatuation for this young star, but I was finding myself less able to control my urges as the day of our first meeting neared.

He was lying suggestively in a large bed in only his wifebeater. If you looked closely enough you could see his nipples underneath the thin undergarment. Oh, how I would love to just tease his pin-pricked nipples...just to bite them with my strong teeth. I imagined chaining him to the bed post- it had been a fantasy of mine for sometime. Before long, my manhood was begging for relief. I unzipped my pants. Using my bare hands, I stroked my dick until I ejaculated in my hands.

The following morning, I discovered my feet soaked in my own cum. I dragged my feet through the thick semen to my room. Nick was coming out of slumber when I entered my room. I gathered his clothes from the floor and tossed them to him. Without saying a single word, I left for the bathroom to take a quick shower. I had exactly two hours to prepare myself for this interview.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked as I made my way out the door.

"Going to work." I answered.

"You're not going to have them on your show, are you?" He inquired.

"Of course, I am." I answered him.

He always asked too many questions. I could see his nostrils flaring in the corner of my eyes.

"What's wrong? I read somewhere that you guys were friends."

"That's all bullshit. We hate them with a passion." Nick paused for a brief moment and then continued, "Is that why they've been at No. 1 for seven weeks now?"

"Nick, how many times do I have to tell you that I have no control over the videos. Fans vote for them and I play them according to their votes." I explained and then walked away for the door.

Again, he stopped me in my tracks.

"Then I'm leaving you." Nick threatened.

I laughed out loud. He wasn't serious, was he? I returned to face him.

"Nick, you and I both know that this was never to last. I have too much fun. And you, my dear, have too much pride to stay with one person when you know you can have so many more."

I told him and then left once and for all. Unlike the veteran MTV VJ's, I was not greeted with a stretch limo waiting to take me to the studios. I walked out of my apartment complex and had to walk for several blocks to enter the subway that would take me to my workplace. Upon my arrival, young teenage girls swarmed me. They had loitered around the studio since 5 am this morning I was told. When I managed to slip through the crowd, I was greeted with a memo from my boss. I was ordered to do additional research. Apparently, just knowing their hair color, eye color, and favorite color was not enough. With only an hour left, I barricaded myself in my office, researching further. From my quick research, I was able to uncover enough tidbits to prolong the interview to an hour long TV segment. Nothing too spectacular. Two of them met on the Mickey Mouse Club set. Two met while working at Universal Studios. They decided to form a singing group one day and got together. Of course, they needed a bass voice to complete their so-called "harmonizing" ensemble. Lance Bass, yes, that's his name alright, fitted the criteria perfectly. The most surprising tidbit I found was that Justin was merely 15-years-old in the "Tearin' Up My Heart" video. Just 15-years-old and he looked that delicious. I could only imagine how he would look now.

When the show finally ended at 4:30 pm eastern time- yes, the show is live, they made their grand appearance. Right away, he caught my eyes. Wearing yellow shades and a vibrant red sweater, his charisma not only caught my attention, but that of many others in the room as well. I couldn't help it, but want to hold him, touch him. And that I did after hugging the other four, I let my arms reached around his waist and gently picked him up off the ground, grabbing his ass a bit. I put him down to let him readjust himself after JC directed a cold stare at me. That guy always bugged me.

After a few minutes of interview, they performed to their hit smash, 'Tearin' Up My Heart'. They were surprisingly good live. I thought they would come out and lip-synch. I was wrong. You could tell they were a harmonizing vocal group when they sang the cheesy 'God Must Have Spent A Little More Time on You'. I know who God must have spent a little more time on and apparently from the signs outside the studio, I wasn't the only with the same thought. That was encounter one if you didn't count the time they stopped by the studio to entertain the VJ contestants in April. After the show ended, I was called in by the Big Brother. He informed me that my work was great with the minor exception that I was too close to Justin and appeared too eager to have him on the show. He reminded me that Justin was still 17, a minor, and that if I ever attempt anything, I would be solely responsible for my own actions. He further added that one time last year, his mother sued a well-known hotel in Germany because someone had managed to sneak inside his room and walked in on him in the shower. She had a reputation for taking things to the extreme and she would have no mercy upon me if she felt her son was in danger. He finally ended the conversation by telling me that my assignment to go to Orlando to interview the fivesome had been terminated and that Jon Norris would take my place. Like he was any better.

Throughout the next year and a half, every time I saw him, I wanted more to have him. He was so tempting, always smiling, always fooling around in the studio. It was as if he was teasing me. Taunting to me. Daring me to take the next step in his pursuit. So when the next opportunity at Big Bear arrived, I took advantage of it.

"You are so beautiful." I proclaimed in front of hundreds of adoring fans.

He smiled back and brushed it off as a joke. I was sick of this cat and mouse game. What many didn't see behind the camera was the constant flirting between Justin and I. The touching. The rubbing against each other's bodies. What message was he sending me anyway? My winter ended with a sour note. I returned home to New York the evening they took the winner to dinner. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't be in the same vicinity as he was without feeling stupid by the way he made me feel. He belittled me. Turning on the computer, I decided to vent at some random chat room. Of course, the room was not so random when I purposely selected the chat room for 'N Sync. It was late in the morning so of course, the teenyboppers were now sound asleep in the comfort of their beds when I met two men in the chat room. Both with the same obsession over the same Adonis. One man named Paul was a lawyer at some firm in Orlando. He first saw him when the group was first signed to Trans-Con. He and his firm were trying to sell themselves to this group, but of course, they rejected them and moved on to a more popular firm. The other man was a photographer for several years until the cops had busted him for the possession of child pornographic pictures- among them a picture of Justin at 14 with his group mates posing in some lagoon type of setting. He was not wearing a shirt, but still had on his jeans until good old John decided to strip him of that, too. Now, he was enjoying his life as a school janitor at some elementary school in Cleveland, OH.

Paul had gotten his hands on a new drug with the chemical name of Gamma-Hydroxybutyrate or better known as Scoop, G, Everclear, salty water, Liquid E, or Liquid X. When mixed with sweet drinks, it is tasteless and odorless- the perfect antidote to get Justin Timberlake in bed. I asked if he would be okay after taking the substance and they assured me that nothing would happen to him except for some nausea and vomiting. Nothing more. As the chat progressed, we had developed a plan to finally lay our lust for the young superstar to rest. We all agreed that once we fulfill our sexual desires, we would be able to resume our normal daily lives once again.

September 9th, 1999, the night of the MTV Video Music Awards, Paul and John both flew into New York that same night. They booked rooms at the nearest hotel to the Metropolitan Opera House. After the show finale, all the celebrities were invited to an exclusive MTV party at the Lotus, where they would intermingle among each other and exclude losers like myself from their niche. Justin had slipped into the night with his mother, not attending the better half of the night's party. Some said that Britney was with him as well. How I envied her. What was so special about her? Nothing. However, to my fortunate surprise, he arrived ten minutes before midnight to join his groupmates. He looked very haunted as he entered. Something weighed heavily on his mind. He met up with his bandmates and within minutes he was himself, again. I could see him from the second level of the club as he chatted with his groupmates, as he laughed at another one of Chris's stupid joke. He and JC exchanged smiles before departing ways. Some thing in their eyes told me that they were more than just best friends. After the group had disbanded, Justin was seen walking to his corner of the club. Shortly, thereafter, a mob of fans- mostly females, converged upon him. I quickly leapt across the floor to break the mob. They soon left him alone, enabling me to see him. He was a bit shaken up. Fear still evident in his eyes. I signaled the bartender to order him some drinks, but he insisted on a Pepsi-cola.

"I promise mom not to drink tonight." He said.

Perfect.

I watched as the bartender filled up a glass to the rim. The cola fizzed as I dropped two tablets worth of drugs into the soda before handing it to him. The constant ringing of my cell phone against my thigh was driving me insane. I told them that I would have Justin by the end of the night. Still they would not leave me alone. The music of Moby's 'Porcelain' drowned the ringing sound of my cell phone. Justin was talking. Not to me, to himself. I wasn't listening. I didn't care to know what he had to say. He was mumbling something about leaving. Leaving Trans-con, I think. He was in near tears as he eluded to the fact that he might have to reveal some secret of his. I didn't know what he was saying. My focus was on the glass that soon became empty.

Within a few minutes, the drug had taken effect. He wasn't feeling good. He felt nauseated. He asked me to help him to the bathroom. I looked around to see if anyone was watching, before I slipped my arm around his waist. I held him off the ground as I led him to the bathroom quietly. He collapsed onto the floor, crawling to the nearest toilet to vomit. I rubbed his back a little, glided my hand over his glistening face. I couldn't help it. I ran the water in the sink and dipped a towel in the water. I took the wet towel and began to wipe away the sweat off his face. He was not feeling too well. I knew what caused this sudden illness.

"Carson."

"Yes, Justin." I uttered, absent mindedly, running my hands through his curls.

"Help me out of here."

"Yes."

I scooped him up in my arms. That was the only way to get him out of here. Through the back doors, I took him without a hitch. Immediately, a limo arrived at our feet. I deposited him in the back, taking a seat by him. He collapsed onto the seat. He shifted around on the back seat, breathing very heavily, moaning a bit. Poor thing. He was so sick. The limo ride eventually ended in front of a cheap motel several miles away from Times Square. I remembered this motel because I once lived in it for several months when I first arrived in New York. The motel had quite a reputation for attracting losers like myself and was for lack of better words- a whore house. Men would bring their whores to this motel. It was cheap and no one cared around here. Paul and John personally hand-picked this motel. Justin would be our whore tonight. We walked past the same desk clerk that I had seen years ago. She was filing her nails as usual. She only stopped to hand us the key to our room. She didn't even notice the unconscious boy hanging onto my arm.

While Paul and John readied themselves for tonight's event, I was given the task of getting Justin prompt for his part in tonight. I lay him down on the bed. I walked around the bed, relishing the moment we had alone. I sat down beside him, tousling his wavy curls. I gently ran my hand along the side of his face. So smooth. They say you lost the baby soft skin when you become a man. Justin still had his. He was still a boy. I rubbed his full lips with my thumb before leaning over to steal one kiss. Just one. His eyes began to flutter open. He was trying to wake up from his sleep.

Just go to sleep. It would be so much better for you.

I slid my hand underneath his shirt, underneath his wifebeater to feel his heart. The beating was irregular as was his breathing. His body twitched a little, otherwise he remained quite still. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Tore his wifebeater with my bare teeth. I unbuckled his belt and yanked it off of him. As I worked on removing his khakis, he sat up surprisingly.

"Carson, what's going on?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What are you doing?" His voice child-like.

His lips were trembling as I silenced him with another sealed kiss. I held him close to my chest while my hand found its way past the waistband of his boxers to find its prey. He pushed me off when he felt my hand violating him. He pushed me to the floor and scrambled for the door. I quickly got up from the floor and slammed the door shut before he could escape.

"Please, Carson." He begged.

However, I took no pity on him. I slapped him across the face. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to the bed despite his weak resistance. He started to pound on my chest fiercely with his clenched fists. And I pushed him back onto the floor. He continued to cry, recoiling away from me as if he was afraid of me. I approached him and tilting his head backward, I shoved down another two tablets down his throat. Five minutes later, I scooped up his body. I tossed him onto the bed before getting on top of him. I removed his khakis successfully leaving him in only his boxers. But not for long. I sat up in a straddling position as I stripped away my clothes. His eyelids drooped over his eyes. I knew he could see what was happening. I lay on top of him, kissing him on the neck as I reached inside his boxers to grab hold of his dick. I gave his dick a tight squeeze. He whimpered at my invasive grip. That was for flirting with me. I dug my fingernails into his balls and pinched them hard. That was for teasing me. I twisted his penis until I couldn't anymore. That was for taunting me.