Archive of Our Own ^beta

1

“Hey Justin. My name’s Steve Baldwin. This is my daughter, Hailey.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Justin Bieber says it with his perfect smile. His lips are soft and supple, glistening with moisture and molded into a luscious pink pout. His skin is youthful and radiant, unblemished by the years of bad decisions that are still yet to come. His body appears altogether innocent, untouched, though beneath the surface he’s already begun to indulge his depraved sexual cravings.

The encounter is familiar. He’s had this encounter a thousand times before, and this is just another girl in a sea of faceless girls with the Fever. The Fever for him and every inch of his naked body and sex. He won’t remember her in the morning. He won’t even remember this moment an hour from now. Years later, he’ll be presented with a video of this moment, the moment that he met his wife, and he’ll pretend that he remembers every second of it, that it was love at first sight. But for now, he laughs and smiles and shakes her hand.

If only he knew what the future would bring.

2

They’re kissing softly. They’re tucked away in a fluorescent-lighted cement hallway, one of the many composing the backstage labyrinth. Every several minutes, someone might pass by: a janitor perhaps, a member of his crew, or if he’s particularly unlucky, a wandering paparazzo.

His mouth tastes like peppermint. It always tastes like peppermint. He knows how to kiss. It’s slow. It’s tender. His fingers dancing across the side of her neck. His satin lips embrace her. His tongue explores.

He’s on tour and though the scenery is always in constant flux and he could not even tell you what city he’s in right now, the hunger that girls have for him and the hunger that he has for sex is the same everywhere.

On the surface, Hailey isn’t much of an anomaly. She’s just another girl. One of the many that he’s juggling. He’s not even sure how she got backstage. But she’s here now, and soon she’ll be on her knees.

Justin enjoys talking to pretty girls. It’s a sport. Mastering the art of seduction. How to flip his hair just the right way. How to disarm them by staring deep into their eyes. How to kiss them with a tenderness that most men couldn’t dream of matching. How to explore their bodies with soft but daring fingertips. He manages it all with a youthful arrogance and a virility that will only grow with time.

To him, Hailey Rhode Baldwin is just another conquest. Of course, he doesn’t even know her name. At least not in this moment.

Though he’s not entirely aware of it, Justin Bieber is already an exhibitionist. He tends to seduce girls in circumstances that aren’t entirely private, whether that means in the dark corner of a party, in the backseat of a chauffeured vehicle in the presence of friends, or backstage a short walk away from his dressing room where anyone might pass by, just as he is right now.

Truth be told, a piece of Justin always hopes that someone will walk by in the middle of the action, as he’s relaxed and leaning back against the wall with his penis in some girl’s mouth. So far, it hasn’t happened, but he enjoys the thrill of the possibility. It’s like a drug.

Even illuminated by the harsh fluorescent light, Justin looks incredible, covered in a light morning dew of teenage sweat. Soon, his hands are beneath her bra and he can tell from the way that she squirms under his touch that she’s ready for the next small push.

He whispers to her. The words sound like a question, but it’s never really a question when Justin Bieber says it. Like dozens—no, hundreds—of women before her and countless that would come after her, Hailey falls to her knees.

She looks up at him. Stares into his eyes. They’re gentle, but also slightly pink. He’s high. His sweat has sharpened his locks of hair into thin spikes which dangle down over his eyes. He unzips his pants and slips his penis through the flap in the front of his underwear.

Unlike every other girl ever offered Justin Bieber’s penis, she refuses to take it into her mouth. “I want to see your body,” she says. He’s clearly irritated, but at the same time her face is innocent and the way she says it sounds so undemanding. He can’t imagine that there might be something more to her request than simple desire, but then again perhaps he should suspect something because it’s not dissimilar from the way he pushed her down to her knees just moments ago.

He lifts his shirt up a little. The flickering fluorescent overhead casts a living shadow over his abdominal muscles, eight in total. They’re smooth, his happy trail shaven clean. He figures this should be enough for her.

He’s wrong.

“Can you take it all the way off?” she asks.

Why not, he figures. He lifts his t-shirt up and over his head and drops it carelessly on the concrete floor next to him. In seconds, her warm mouth envelops his penis. He tilts his head back to rest it against the wall and shuts his eyes. That’s it, he thinks. She must be in heaven right now. Sucking Justin Drew Bieber’s cock after all of this time.

When she unbuttons his jeans, he thinks nothing of it. When he feels them slowly sliding from his waist, he figures that they are falling of their own accord, not that her fingers might be purposefully easing them off of his body.

There’s a brief moment when he realizes that he’s standing in the middle of the hallway in plain sight of potential passerby wearing nothing except for a pair of olive green American Apparel underwear—before the days of Calvin Klein Justin—the waistband tucked beneath his smooth ball sack.

The realization turns him on even more. His heart starts to race. His breathing becomes ragged. She begins to pull his underwear down his thighs and now he feels exposed. He’s about to nut.

This time, someone does walk by in the middle of it. Scooter.

Justin never gets to come.

3

I love Hailey Rhode Baldwin. That’s what Justin Bieber told himself.

He told himself because people assumed that he loved Selena, that she was his first and only love, but they were all wrong. Fuck them.

I love Hailey Rhode Baldwin.

He told himself because he tried to love Selena, but love is a two-way street, and she wouldn’t love him back. Sure, they’d broken up how many times now, and most of them—all of them—had been his fault. But it wasn’t his fault that he had a problem with sleeping with other women. He needed to nut and there were beautiful around him all the time. Endless oceans of them who deserved some time with Justin Bieber. Right? After all, he tried to commit to her, and that’s what should have mattered.

I love Hailey Rhode Baldwin.

He told himself because when Selena finally ended it with him for good, he decided that he would show her how wrong she really was about him. Justin Bieber could stop fucking other women. Justin Bieber could remain faithful. Justin Bieber could remain chaste. He even vowed to stop masturbating.

I love Hailey Rhode Baldwin.

He told himself that because the sex with Hailey was good. Really good. You might think that he was just telling himself that too, but he wasn’t. The sex was mind blowing. You might also wonder why he started fucking Hailey less than a week after he and Selena broke up, but that’s because he was in love.

I love Hailey Rhode Baldwin.

Never mind the fact that he had emptied his balls in a few other girls since being with Hailey. It just wasn’t the same now that he was with Hailey. Nobody knows how to work Justin Bieber in bed like she does.

That much is true.

4

I met Hailey in 2009. I remember that her dad introduced us. I could tell she was obsessed with me, but what girl wasn’t back then? Hell, what girl isn’t right now? I couldn’t hold that against her, even though I did.

You see, I like girls that are hard to get, and Hailey wasn’t hard to get. It wasn’t long before she was on her knees backstage after (or before?) one of my concerts choking on my cock.

I remember that she wanted it so bad that she couldn’t even wait until we got into my dressing room. She had to have it in the middle of the hallway. I remember because Scooter caught us. I was embarrassed, but at the same time it felt kind of good to get caught. And if it had to be by anyone, it might as well be Scooter. At least he knew I was getting some.

One taste of Bieber Cock was enough to get Hailey addicted. Yeah, I talk about my dick in the third person sometimes, but I didn’t start it. Hailey did. She always whispers shit like that in my ear. Destroy me daddy. Destroy me with that big fat Bieber Cock.

Sometimes I wonder if she secretly just wants to get double-teamed by me and my dad. It makes sense, right? Two big fat Bieber Cocks for Mrs. Bieber. Except mine’s bigger, Hailey.

Bieber Cock. It turns me on. It gets me off. I’m a sexual object that everyone wants but can’t have. Except Hailey. So, let her dream about Bieber Cock.

I’ve fucked a lot of women. Hundreds of women. Maybe even thousands. I don’t remember most of them, but I did learn some things. Sex with women is about more than bending a girl over and fucking her doggystyle. You have to know how to be sensual and tender with them. That’s what they want. That’s you rack them up. I know how to romance a woman. I know how to seduce her and get her out of her clothes and touch her in all the right places and kiss her in all the right places and fuck her in all the right places. I know how to make her moan and make her come. Most importantly, I know how to teach them to get me off. That’s where the pleasure really is for them. They want to serve. They want to serve Justin Bieber. They want to serve Bieber Cock.

Hailey is different, though. She doesn’t need me to lead or show her what to do in bed. She knows where to touch me and how to touch me and when to touch me.

Tonight, we’re spooning on our knees on the bed and my arms are locked beneath her armpits and my hands are wrapped around her tits. It’s not a position I would have chosen, but it’s doing the job. The sound of her quiet moans and the feeling of our sweaty skin grinding against one each other is turning me on. I can hear my Bieber Cock pumping in and out of her wet ass pussy. I’m so close to busting my nut.

Her mouth wanders to my neck and sucks on my skin. I like leaving my mark, so I understand, but I usually don’t let women do it to me. My life is too public for that. But I let her do it tonight, and I can feel the hickey forming.

Hailey turns around and starts to kiss me. My mouth tastes like peppermint; I always make sure of that. Her kiss is soft at first, but then it grows violent. Our tongues wrestle for a few minutes, even though I know that I’ll win in the end, but then I feel her teeth close on my lower lip. I audibly breathe fuck because it legitimately hurts like fuck. I taste blood before I realize that my tongue has surrendered and that she’s won.

She grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off of her breasts and pulls them behind us. Behind my head. I feel vulnerable in this position. Like my whole body is exposed. Like she’s using my body for herself. This isn’t right.

There’s a mirror across from the foot of the bed, and I can see our reflection. My cock is sheathed inside of her pussy and her tits are gyrating with the rest of her body. I realize that it’s not me fucking her anymore; it’s Hailey fucking herself on my Bieber Cock. She’s grinding much more slowly than I was fucking her just moments ago, but it feels incredible.

Every time she sinks all the way down, I can feel my load ready to explode from my balls, but it’s almost like she can feel it too, because she seems to anticipate it every time and slow down right when I’m on the edge.

I kind of don’t like it. I like being in control. But I go with it. My eyes wander down to the foot of the bed. Her black lace bra and panties are sprawled out on the floor. They should turn me on, but instead I find myself staring at the pile of clothes lying about a foot away. My clothes. My corduroy Drew pants and my white Calvin Klein underwear, turned inside out and bunched on top of them.

When I was still a teenager, I realized that my underwear were a sex object. They weren’t just underwear. They were my underwear. Justin Bieber’s underwear. There were people out there that dream about my underwear. They want to stare at them. They want to smell them. They want to kiss them and lick them just because my dick and balls and ass were in them.

I wonder what they smell like right now. I mean, I can imagine. They smell like my ass. And that’s not such a bad thing. Bieber Ass.

I bust my nut while thinking about it.

5

They’re on a hike in LA. The cameras followed them up the trail at first, but eventually they made a run for it. They finally found a stretch of abandoned trail. There’s a bench bolted to the ground in the middle of a large clearing, large enough that hundreds of yards are visible in either direction. It’s quiet.

Justin is sitting on Hailey’s lap. It’s hot as hell outside, so he left his shirt in the car. He enjoys walking around shirtless, especially in front of the paparazzi. He knows people like it. He knows Hailey likes it.

His sneakers and socks lie discarded on the ground a few feet away. He’s wearing blue athletic shorts, sagging over two inches past the elastic waistband of his white Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

Justin can feel the cameras watching him and Hailey. They’re hundreds of yards up the trail in the distance, too far for the shutters to be audible, but Justin has developed an instinct after all of these years.

Justin tilts his head slightly to the right and gazes up the trail. He can’t make out the paparazzi. But he knows they’re there.

Hailey is sucking on the side of his neck now. She loves to leave her mark on him, and he’s long since tried to stop her. Her fingers toy with his abdominal muscles as she devours his neck. He can feel himself starting to get hard.

He reaches down to cover himself. You might assume that he’s covering himself because of the paparazzi, but he’s not. He’s pretty certain that they’re mostly obscured by the bench, so he’s not worried about that. He just doesn’t want Hailey to realize that he’s sporting a full hard-on just from her kissing his neck.

That’s not very alpha.

She wrenches his hands away from the front of his shorts and moves to rest on the bench at his sides. She knows. She knows everything about him. She doesn’t want him covering up.

Justin’s body is tingling. He doesn’t know if it’s because he can feel someone watching them or because they haven’t fucked for over a week—a week he thinks to himself, Justin Bieber hasn’t had sex in a week—but he’s horny.

Come on, babe, he thinks to himself. Get in my shorts. Grab that Bieber Cock.

He’s completely drenched in sweat, and he vaguely realizes that it probably isn’t too pleasant inside of his underwear right now. For all of the things that people say about him, he looks smelly or he looks homeless or he looks like he belongs at a gas station, Justin Bieber is actually a clean freak, and he didn’t want his wife digging in his wet, sweaty, underwear. That was for his whores.

But he wants Hailey on his cock so bad right now.

But she ignores his dick. Instead, she starts to play with his nipples while she kisses his neck. Holy shit, he thinks to himself. It’s involuntary. He can’t control it. His head rolls back and he lets out a guttural moan.

Hailey discovered the hot spot recently. Justin Bieber loves having his nipples played with. Justin Bieber, a slave for nipple play.

Not very alpha.

Her fingers tease his nipples. She circles each one with her nails, rubbing and flicking and pinching them. Bieber’s head is tilted back, and his mouth is slack, and his eyes are closed.

He’s so absorbed by the assault on his smooth, hairless chest that he barely even registers the moment when her hands slip delicately down to his thin waist and begin to drag his athletic shorts down his hips and to the ground.

Now Justin Bieber is sitting on her lap in nothing but his underwear. His white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. A walking advertisement for underwear if there ever was one.

It’s not the first time that he’s been in public in his underwear, not even close. But it’s the first time that he’s ever been sexed up like this in public. His seven-inch hard-on is bulging from the front of his white underwear. But before he can even protest the fact that his wife has him laid out like this in public, her nails close around his nipples again and he moans.

He feels her fingers slip beneath the waistband of his underwear. She starts to pull them down his waist. It takes his breath away, but he’s not sure if it’s because he’s terrified or excited. Maybe both.

A light breeze begins to air out his musky pubic hair. He can smell himself, and he knows his wife can smell him too. The smell is intoxicating. The smell of his naked, sweaty body. It turns him on even more.

He unconsciously lifts his ass so that Hailey can slide the underwear past his sweaty butt. The head of his hard cock latches onto the waistband and then pops out violently. His cock bounces up and down a few times before coming to a rest at a ninety-degree angle from his body. The trademark of a thick cock.

She releases her grip on his underwear and they quietly fall to the ground.

Justin Bieber was just fucking stripped in public. Hailey is fully clothed, but Justin Bieber is butt ass naked on her lap while her nails are playing with his nipples. Aren’t his hands supposed to be playing with hers? But instead he’s moaning and kissing her like he’s riding her cock.

He lets out a moan. Then a hand starts to stroke his cock.

In the distance, the shutter of a camera can be heard. But they can’t see anything. Surely. Right?

Bieber can feel the camera taking pictures even though he can’t hear it. He’s close. “Shit, I’m going to come,” he whispers.

Her hand immediately leaves his cock. Now both hands are on his nipples again. Pinching them. Flicking them. Abusing them.

“Fuck!”

He can’t stop moaning. Her hand is back on his penis. It only takes a few strokes.

“I’m about to nut!”

Her hand is gone again. His stomach is drenched in pre-come.

It goes on like this for several minutes. Each time, it takes less and less to bring Justin Bieber to the edge, until she barely has to touch that big Bieber Cock at all to bring him to the brink of orgasm.

So, she stops touching it altogether and just claws at his tits.

“I’m gonna nut. Fuck, I’m gonna bust! Here comes my nut!”

He’s about to bust it hands-free, but then her hands leave his body entirely. His Bieber Cock bounces up and down, bulging, desperately trying to finish, but without stimulation he can’t finish. The feeling begins to fade.

He’s open-mouthed and breathing hard when her finger slides past his lips. It tastes wet and salty. At first, he assumes it’s sweat. But it’s bitter too. It’s his own sweat, he realizes, and his pre-nut. He’s tasting his Bieber Nut.

“Let’s go fuck,” he whispers.

“No.”

That’s all he gets.

6

Hailey is riding his big Bieber Cock. He’s lying back, hands crossed behind his head. Letting her do all of the work. His upper body is smooth. It always is. But he hasn’t manscaped in ages and his pubes are wild and overgrown. Her pussy bounces up and down on the bush. A man, he thinks to himself, as he watches his wife fuck herself on his enormous cock.

They’re in the sack. That’s what he calls it: the sack. The room where Justin Bieber gets ass. The room where Justin Bieber and his big fat Bieber Cock busts every last drop of its Bieber Nut. The place where he can be completely and entirely (and lazily) butt ass naked at all times. No exceptions.

The sack is drenched with Bieber. It smells like him. Its musty and humid. It smells like sex. Dirty sex. Which smells like Justin Bieber. Because sex is all he thinks about. All he cares about. Fucking. And more importantly, nutting.

If you know Justin Bieber well enough, if you know his body well enough, then you can isolate each of his scents. That humid air is the evaporated sweat from his body. That familiar smell of body odor, even though it smells cleaner than your average boy, is the smell of Justin Bieber’s sweaty underarms. That heavy pungent aroma, the one that almost smells spicy, that’s the smell of Justin Bieber and his pubic musk, the smell of his sweaty bush and his sweaty balls and his sex-soaked Bieber Cock. That tangy smell is the sex juice from his conquests. That ammonia is the smell of his Bieber Nut. And layered somewhere in the warm, humid aromatic soup is the distinct smell of butt sex. Don’t worry: Justin Bieber isn’t taking it up the ass yet. He’s still the fucker. But that smell is the aroma from between his ass cheeks, the smell of Bieber Ass accumulating in the air as he fucks and farts and masturbates all day.

The room is littered with dirty pairs of white Calvin Klein underwear. Justin Bieber never wears the same pair twice. He drops them to the ground the moment he walks into the sack. He loves being fucking naked. Every once in a while, someone cleans up his underwear from the floor (who?), but in the in-between they just accumulate and fill the room with the stench of his sex.

She’s riding his cock. She’s almost fully clothed, her shorts and panties pulled down just enough to ride his cock. But he’s ass naked. As always.

He reaches up to touch her tits, or at least to unbutton her shirt and pull her bra off so he can watch them bounce while she fucks herself on his dick, but she pins his hands down on the bed just like before.

I can feel her getting wet, he thinks to himself. She’s been wanting this cock all fucking day long, been hungry for this big Bieber Cock. I can feel her getting wet. Hell, I can hear it. The sound of my cock fucking her pussy getting wetter and filthier as she gets closer. Then she screams. Then I can feel it. My dick tensing. Ready to blow my load. I’ve been waiting all day.

“Oh, god. Fuck. Ride that Bieber Cock. I’m going to bust my fucking nut!”

The semen begins to empty out of his balls, but before he can blow, she slides off of his dick and her lips press against his. She thrusts her tongue deep into his mouth and kissing him, deep and messy. She’s breathing hard. She’s still coming down from her orgasm. But Bieber isn’t. He can feel a few drops of semen ooze out of the tip of his penis, his orgasm ruined. The read of his load starts draining back into his balls.

He opens his mouth. I need to come, he prepares to say.

But she speaks first: “What if I told you that you couldn’t come?”

“Huh?”

“I said that you’re not going to come. Not in my pussy. Not jerking off. Not at all. Until I tell you.” She smiles. “Would you do that for me?”

She leans down to kiss him. He smiles back: “Fuck no.”

Rather than respond, she leans down and kisses his chest. Her tongue finds its way around his nipples. He moans. And five short minutes later, he’s restrained. His four limbs tied to the four corners of the bed.

She leaves him like that for the rest of the night. Justin Bieber. On his back. Balls bursting. His big hard Bieber Cock leaking nut into his hairy bush.

In the sack.

7

The sun is warm.

He feels her soft hands on his lower back. He’s on his hands and knees on the upper deck of yacht in his pink bathing suit.

Not long ago, the paparazzi were watching him, snapping photographs. He felt them first, as he always does, but he also saw them in the distance: there’s nowhere for them to hide on the open water.

Now, though, he’s looking down at the ground, and he can’t tell if they’re still watching him or not. But she’s rubbing his lower back and he has a feeling of what’s coming next and surely she wouldn’t do it if they were watching.

Right?

Her fingers grab hold of his bathing suit and start to pull it down. It’s a slow, teasing affair. The bathing suit slides down from his waist. His tan-line comes into view first. Then the beginning of his ass crack.

She stops there for a moment and kisses his lower back. Then she presses down on the cleft of his back. He arches it in response.

Then she goes back to work. Even though the air is warm, the rush of the wind feels cold when it blows between his exposed butt cheeks. And then his bathing suit is crumpled around his knees. He shaved recently. His smooth balls and big Bieber Cock are dangling between his legs, blowing in the wind.

The sun highlights every detail of his pink asshole. The small beads of sweat dripping between his ass cheeks. The seventeen small hairs that speckle his rim, some blowing in the wind, some clumped together from the sweat. The tight little ass-lips which are scrunched together in anticipation.

He still feels a bit awkward when his ass is on display like this. He had never even looked at his own butt hole until Hailey had taken a picture of it for him. She’s been obsessed with it lately. He didn’t find it weird. There had been countless others before her obsessed with his ass. They wanted to eat it and he was more than happy to oblige. Often without showering beforehand.

She ran her finger along his rim. He moans involuntarily.

Recently, she had talked him into having sex toys made out of his parts. Literally. As in she had an exact replica of his penis made. A Bieber Cock dildo. That was understandable. But she hadn’t stopped there. She also talked him into getting a replica of his ass made. They made it with a caste, an exact copy which captured every nuance of his puckered butt hole. Like a fleshlight, except it even included a carbon copy of his butt cheeks. The entire Bieber Ass.

He still isn’t sure why she needed that.

The thoughts slip from his mind as she starts to stroke the big Bieber Cock hanging between his legs. She masturbates him just like this, on his hands and knees. She plays with his hole as she does it, eventually slipping a finger in, but just the tip. Once she does, it doesn’t take him long to get close.

“I’m going to nut,” he whispers. It’s not a declaration. It’s a warning. A courtesy. To make her job easier. Because she doesn’t let him come.

Justin Bieber only gets to come in the sack.

But she teases his little Bieber Butt and big Bieber Cock just like that on the deck of the yacht for a while. Hopefully, there’s nobody else watching.

8

Justin Bieber is in the sack. He’s ass naked and tied down to the bed.

A blindfold covers his eyes. Hailey has been into blindfolding him before they fuck lately. At first, he missed being able to see her tits bounce up and down as she rode his cock, but the loss of control has grown on him.

A camera hangs down from the ceiling. They had it installed a few months ago so that they could record sex videos. Perfect content for Justin to use to masturbate to when he’s alone. And let’s face it: he’s usually alone in the sack.

He spends almost all of his time in here. And where else would Justin Bieber be? He’s horny all the time. He’s a sex addict. Sex is all that he can think about. It’s all he cares about. For the most part. So, the camera is perfect. He even uses it to record himself sometimes. More than sometimes. A lot of times. He loves to masturbate to himself. Jerking off to Justin Bieber and his big Bieber Cock.

Bieber Cock. He still thanks Hailey for that one.

He can’t see it, but he can feel it. He can feel the tight ass riding his big cock. He can hear it too. A tight, smooth ash smashing against his pelvis. Bottoming out. Balls deep. It’s not quite skin-on-skin. He has a forest of pubic hair today, so with each descent he can hear his sweaty pubes crunch beneath the weight.

The weight. Hailey feels heavier than normal as she rides him. If Justin Bieber weren’t so far gone, he might even feel some ass hairs tickling his shaft.

But he doesn’t notice. He only cares about one thing.

“Oh, fuck! I’m going to nut!”

This time, he isn’t denied. That ass rides his cock and milks every last fucking drop of warm Bieber Nut out of his big Bieber Cock.

If Justin Bieber knew, would he even care that Hailey isn’t the owner?

9

Justin Bieber’s cock.

Eight inches long. Spaced an inch beneath the head is a brown circumcision scar. The skin between the scar and the head is a delicate shade of pink. The rest is a tanned creamy white. The skin of his entire shaft is smooth and unblemished aside from the scar. No wrinkles. No veins. Just beautiful cock. And it’s fucking thick. Thicker than you would expect. One of those fat dicks whose shaft is just as big as the head. His big fat dick typically hangs down from a tangled forest of pubes. So overgrown that his balls aren’t even visible.

Justin Bieber’s ass.

Perfect. It’s a pasty white. Fairer in complexion than his dick. His body is lean, but he has a tight little bubble butt which protrudes outwards from the incline of his lower back. Skinny though he is, his ass isn’t bony. It has just enough meat to bounce and jiggle and absorb the impact of, well, whatever. Something that might come in handy someday. Between his ass cheeks, it smells like ass. Like Bieber Butt. But not in a bad way. Just like musk and sweat and sex. Like Bieber sex. His ass is mostly hairless, but at the very center are a hodgepodge of small brown hairs surrounding his moist pink hole.

Bieber Cock. Bieber Ass.

Those words were dirty talk. Things that fans though about day in and day out. And ever since Hailey first whispered it in his ear—he’d gotten off to it too—Bieber Cock. In fact, a lot of times when he was in the sack alone, he wasn’t jerking off to his videos of Hailey or women at all. He was jerking off to himself. His Bieber Cock. Or the thought of all the people out there that wanted it. Sometimes he would stare down at all of the discarded underwear littering the room and jerk off to those. Sometimes, he would pick a pair of the dirty underwear up off the floor and fuck into them with his cock. Or drape them over his face and masturbate to his own dirty smells. His own sex.

But now Bieber Cock and Bieber ass mean something else too.

Bieber Cock. The eight-inch precise replica of his manhood. It’s smooth and flesh-toned and spongy, and it bends slightly upwards just like his own.

The dildo is lying on the bed a few feet away from him next to his pillow.

Bieber Ass. A perfect replica of his own butt. Butt cheeks included. Sure, it captures every nuance of his tight little puckered hole. They’d even managed to get the flesh tones to match, down to the seamless transition between ass cheek and glistening pink hole. Glistening, because it always appears just a little sweaty, just a little wet, just like Justin Bieber’s real hole.

He’d only seen his own butthole a half dozen or so times when Hailey sent him pictures of himself on all fours, ass cheeks spread, cock hanging down between his legs, and so even he can’t fully appreciate the photorealism of the inside of the Bieber Ass. But he can appreciate the rest of its realism. Even the color tone of the butt cheeks themselves is photorealistic.

And even more impressive: it feels real. It feels exactly like his own ass. When it isn’t being used, the butt cheeks naturally close back up and seem to clench together just like his own. And when you did use it, spreading those squishy ass cheeks felt exactly like spreading his own. That much he could confirm.

It feels and looks so real that he half-expects it to fart sometimes. Just like the real Justin Bieber ass.

Actually, it basically is farting right now as he fucks it. The farting sound is the sound of his own semen being pumped in and out of the sphincter. He’s already blown five loads in it today. It’s tight. Just like the real Justin Bieber ass. But unlike the real Bieber Ass, this one will remain tight forever.

The fake Bieber Ass is pinned down right in the center of the bed. Justin Bieber is on his knees fucking the shit out of it. His left hand is planted on the left ass cheek of the sex toy, and his right hand is position behind his head as he fucks, leaving his underarm hair on display. He can smell the scent of his own underarm, but it mixes in with all of the other smells of sex in the room.

His eyes are closed, and his head is tilted up towards the ceiling in ecstasy. His pubic hair is overgrown but drenched in a disgusting mix of his own sweat and come, which is squirting out of the tight hole he’s fucking. Unbeknownst to him, someone is watching him fuck his own ass right now. The camera hanging from the ceiling looks down on him from above and captures it all.

This is what it feels like to fuck Justin Bieber, he thinks to himself. Fuck, my ass is nice. This is what it feels like to fuck myself in the ass. That’s it, Justin Bieber. Take it, he thinks to himself. Take that big fucking Bieber Cock up your tight little Bieber Ass. Except now he’s saying the words out loud.

“Take it! Take that big fucking Bieber Cock up that tight Bieber Ass. You fucking love that Bieber Dick, don’t you? You want the nut, don’t you? That’s it. Take it. Take it! I’m going to fucking nut! Fuck!”

Just like that, Justin Bieber busts his nut. It spews into the toy. His sixth load of the day. It’s only two o’clock in the afternoon.

After he finishes riding out his orgasm. His body comes to a rest, his dick still lodged inside his fake Bieber Ass. He’s catching his breath.

It’s an intimate moment. In some ways, watching Justin Bieber play with himself feels more private than watching him have sex. Because nobody is watching. As if to highlight the point, he farts.

Except someone is watching.

10

Justin Bieber has some nerve. Walking around in public with no underwear. Freeballing. No white Calvin Klein cotton in sight. Instead, his shorts are pulled down and a forest of pubic hair is visible.

His shorts barely cling to his lips. His cock is right there. The Bieber Cock. So big and so sweaty and so tantalizingly close. Someone—anyone—could walk up behind him and pull his shorts down and expose him to the world.

He wants it.

He’s practically begging for it.

Drop those shorts, Justin Bieber.

11

Twenty minutes later, Justin Bieber is in the sack.

Those shorts which were clinging so precariously to his thin waist have long since been forgotten on the ground amidst his dirty white Calvin Kleins.

He’s ass naked. He’s blindfolded. He’s tied down to the bed. A red light blinks overhead, signaling that this session in the sack is being recorded.

He’s moaning, but the sounds are muffled. His mouth is stuffed full of Bieber Cock. His own penis has been shoved down his throat as far as it will go. Or at least a replica of it. Maybe one day he’ll learn to self-suck his eight inches. But for now, he’s sucking on eight inches of fake Bieber meat. The spongy balls pressed against his lips. The long shaft buried deep in his throat.

He’s already busted six nuts today. A sex addict who’s well on his way to his seventh. He may be sucking (fake) dick, but at least he’s about to get off.

That’s all that matters.

What happened to the Justin Bieber who was in control? The tight little piece of twink ass who walked around in American Apparel underwear and fucked countless women? At least Justin’s still the one doing the fucking. At least someone is riding his big Bieber Cock right now.

That may not always be the case.

For now, though, that someone is Shawn Mendes.

He was reluctant when Hailey first introduced him to the idea. His ex-girlfriend. Justin Bieber’s wife. Trying to convince him to fuck her husband.

“It’s big,” she had told him. Referring to his dick.

“Hailey…I’m not gay,” he had said.

“Shawn…you went on television and joked about wanting his dirty underwear. Except I know that you weren’t joking.”

“I was.”

“I watched you sniff them after I gave you a pair, Shawn.”

He had been silent then.

“I’ll give you as many pairs of his dirty underwear as you want, Shawny. Plus, if you do it, you could smell the real thing. Any part of his body you wanted.”

His face had been red with embarrassment.

“Just try it. You’ll fucking love it. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll get to fuck his tight little ass. Until then, you’ll be addicted to Bieber Cock.”

Bieber Cock. Is that how she referred to her husband’s penis? It sounded so obscene to him. So filthy. He felt uneasy just hearing the words.

But she had been so fucking right.

If Justin Bieber weren’t blindfolded right now, he would see that creamy Mendes ass being split it in two by his thick cock. It’s more muscular than Justin’s, and fairer in complexion, but right now it’s stained red from the impact of fucking itself on Bieber’s bony hips.

Blinded, Justin can only feel it. And hear it. The squirting sounds. The sound of his come being fucked up into Shawn’s hairy hole. The shaft of Justin’s penis, standing straight up as Shawn’s hole devours it, is foamy and white, covered with a thick paste of the fucked remains of the last load he blew.

Shawn is addicted to it. Addicted to stretching his hole on Bieber Cock. He’s been riding Justin’s dick for months now. Bareback.

It’s always the same routine. Hailey times Bieber down and leaves him on the bed. Then, she lets Shawn in. He’s free to ride it for as long as he wants. Free to ride it as many times as he wants.

If Justin weren’t so stupid—or perhaps the term is “blissfully unaware”—then he would have realized that he’s been fucking man ass for months. Shawn Mendes. But there have been others too. Lots of others—unbeknownst to both Shawn and Justin. Every single one of them: Bareback. Taking that Bieber Nut.

Would Shawn even care if he knew his ass was just one of many asses being used by Justin Bieber? Probably not. He’s addicted. He’s fucking himself on Bieber’s dick. His hole is stretched and loose now, long since acclimated to being stuffed with eight inches of penis.

He’s riding Bieber reverse cowboy style so that Bieber doesn’t feel the dick slapping against his stomach with each descent. That would be an obvious sign that he was actually fucking a dude, right? Justin Bieber is straight.

Instead, Shawn’s dick slaps the mattress, streaking it with semen, each time he falls down onto Justin’s body. His ass slams down so hard against Bieber’s overgrown pubic hair that Justin’s body sinks several inches down into the mattress and then bounces back up, his flimsy, restrained body reverberating in a flaccid S-like shape, like a fish out of water.

Here it comes: the Bieber Nut. “MMMMMMM!”

It’s the only sound Justin can make. Because he’s choking on dick. On his own dick. He feels the realistic curve of his shaft stretching his throat.

He continues to moan. Because he’s no longer being denied by Hailey. Because she’s giving him everything he wants. Because she’s giving him all the ass that he wants. That he needs. Because he needs his nut.

His dick is overstimulated. He’s already blown his load. And now his penis is burning with sensitivity. He’s about to pass out from the intensity of the sensation. He’s struggling against the restraints, trying to break free. At the same time, he’s screaming: “Stop! Stop! I can’t it anymore! It’s too sensitive! It burns! I can’t it take it anymore!”

But all that comes out is: “MMMMMMM!”

Shawn ignores him. Instead he inhales the smells of Justin Bieber. His sweat. His musk. His nut. His ass. It’s the smell of his dirty underwear, but stronger.

He’s so close. But he’s not done milking that big Bieber Cock yet. He wants more. He wants the feeling of that warm Bieber Nut painting his insides. His ass has only taken two loads so far today. He needs more. And he has all day.