A deafening roar of thunder reverberates throughout Justin's spacious kitchen and a few of you and your friends all almost jump out of your seats before laughing at each other. There's nothing particularly funny about a thunder storm, but the fact that you all were dressed up and ready to go out, only to end up staying here and ordering entirely too much food while breaking into Justin's liquor cabinet has got you all a little goofy and bored.

Licking your pointer finger, you lightly touch the salt on the edge of your margarita glass with it before letting it touch the tip of your tongue. You're almost disappointed that you're sitting here in your little skirt and heels, make up all done, hair teased, all ready for a night on the town; disappointed, only because you guys aren't going out anymore.

If you had known that you were going to have a rainy night in, you would have dressed in something much more comfy. Something more practical for around the house, like a tank top and comfy pants, perhaps. Then again, you aren't the only one dressed up so it's not all that bad. And besides all that, there's always the fact that you can't help but let a tiny part of yourself hope that maybe, maybe what you're wearing will impress him. I mean, even if you don't get to wear it to the club you guys were planning on attending before; at least he got to see you in it.

And God, does he look amazing tonight. Really. He's not even that dressed up, he's just wearing a plaid button down shirt and jeans, but hell does he looks good. That's nothing new about though, Justin has always been easy on the eyes.

With this thought in mind, you look around at your friends, noticing how only you, Bri, Megan, Roz, Heather, and Meredith are left at the table. The guys all chose to segregate into the entertainment room a little while ago and it's left you ladies alone in the kitchen to fend for yourselves. Not that you guys really care much anyhow. Surely they're off doing stupid guy stuff anyways, while they take straight shots of whiskey or something else gross like that, something not as girly as cranberry and vodka, or the strawberry margaritas you and the girls are all sipping on.

"Let's do something…a game," Heather suddenly suggests, causing your head to snap up in interest.

"Like what?" You chip in, ready to take another sip of your drink and occupy your time in other ways than entertaining the useless thoughts of how fucking sexy your close friend Justin Timberlake happens to be.

"Let's get the guys and…" Heather pauses, gulping down the rest of her drink in one swig. She wiggles her eyebrows and then finishes her thought, mirthfully suggesting, "…and initiate some strip poker!"

Your heart immediately begins to pound, eyes widening at the thought of getting to see Justin strip, you in the audience. Fuck, this game could be good…

"Okay…"

And you're not the only one who seems to think so, as you and the girls all giggle and nod in mutual agreement to Heather's idea.

Shit.

So much for occupying a different set of thoughts for the night.

----------

It's been thirty minutes since you went off to bed and you still can't fucking fall asleep. The loud thunder doesn't help, and the fact that you can't get him out of your mind definitely, most certainly doesn't help your case any. So you're just laying here in his guest bedroom, tossing and turning, your thoughts running rapid.

After going through a few liquor bottles, a sloppy and silly game of strip poker, and a shamefully drunk group of friends, you and Justin somehow managed to be the last two awake of the night. You two had even played mom and dad, escorting everyone to their respected rooms, some of the couples passing out on each other, some friends just staying to crash on the living room floor, not caring where the fuck they were, as long as they could sleep off their hangovers.

God, and it had been torture sitting across from Justin all night! Especially when the stupid game didn't get anyone very fucking far. Sure you guys had got down to the bare minimums, bras and boxers and panties, but when it came down to it, everyone either let the game die out or went off to do something else. Except for Meredith, who was so drunk, she flashed the entire table, even when she won her hand, laughter bubbling out of her at all the male cheering, hooting and hollering that followed.

You had just looked up at Justin and shook your head, blushing, laughing a little at the craziness of it all. God, your friends were insane. Some horny, psycho, insane bitches-but you loved them. And you couldn't complain. You had gotten to watch him all night. He had had started off kind roughly in the first five hands, and so he had sat there, in just his jeans for almost the whole night. It was a pleasant, pleasant view to say the least.

But now, now you're kinda miserable. He had dropped you off at your room last, kissing you on the cheek, wishing you a good night. It was kinda awkward actually. I mean, you guys had flirted the whole night and you had kinda thought you were getting somewhere with him. Maybe he would stay up and talk with you, just the two of you alone, all intimate and quiet while everyone else slept.

But no, he had just said goodnight instead. You wanted him to make a move, but maybe he just doesn't like you like that. So instead of being with him like you wish, you're stuck here in his his guest bed, the stupid loud thunder and bright lightening ruining any chance of you ever joining your friends off in dream land anytime in the near future.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a spontaneous and stupid, stupid thought.

I mean you can't just…what if you… but would it be too bold of you? To just go up to his room, say fuck it, and sneak up there, knock on his door, telling him you can't sleep?

But then what if you woke him up? It has been thirty minutes, he could have passed out by now…

You could always say you're afraid of thunderstorms and you didn't mean to wake him, but you were terrified. Oh God, that would sound stupid. Real, real stupid and childish. He'd think you were a dumb little girl.

There's only one choice. You tell him you wanted to talk. And I mean, so what if you want his company?

He's the only one up and it's just Justin.

Justin. Your friend Justin. Justin, who you have a massive crush on, and Justin, who you'd like to do in a thousand million different positions.

Oh god, no, no.

You can't sleep and it's making you think crazy, think crazy things.

You couldn't possibly bother him right now.

It would just make you look pathetic…

------

You're paralyzed in this beautiful scenario, this insanely intense experience of yours. It's too damn good to turn away from and you don't think you could look away even if your life, even if your very fucking existence all depended on you leaving right now.

No, you couldn't walk away. Never. Not from this. Not from him.

You're gripping onto the frame of his bathroom door, trying to force the very act of living to come out of your mouth …yes, your breaths are coming short…short and very, very fucking shallow. You're finding it hard to breathe at all right now, let alone at a smooth rate, and it's all because of him.

Him and…and what he's doing right now.

Jesus fucking Christ…

When you snuck up the staircase to his room tonight, you couldn't sleep and you thought he might be awake. You thought, maybe--maybe you could talk with him some more. So why then, why, when his door was closed and he didn't answer your knock, why didn't you just turn away? It's a good question, simple in form, and yet, you really can't explain why you cracked his door open and slipped inside, even when you thought he was probably asleep.

You guess…you guess, maybe, maybe you weren't really thinking…maybe you were just doing. Yes, you were just doing, and not thinking at all. Not fucking thinking at all.

'Cause logically, if he wasn't answering, that would of meant he was asleep, and so he wouldn't be having any sort of further conversation with you that night. Basing this all on you're original motive to go see him, you should of just left right then. And logically, you should have turned away and headed back for his guest room in a rejected, disappointed state instead.

But shit--you just couldn't help yourself. You wanted to see him again…you had to see him again tonight. Even if it was just to catch a tiny glimpse of him, dead asleep, snuggled all cozy and comfy in his bed--you wanted to see him again.

But fuck, never, ever, in a million-gazillion-trillion years, never once did you think you could of found him like this as you entered his room.

Here, with his adjacent bathroom door cracked open, wide enough so you can peek in and see him, in his shower, in his fucking glass shower, doing things to himself, things you could only dream of him letting you do to him. God, what this man is doing to his body right now, …

…To his body; his sexy, toned, muscular, wet, ripped fucking body. ..

Your eyes are unmistakably, painstakingly glued to every inch of him. Yes, you're taking in every single inch of this scene, savoring every inch of it all. You want to remember this very moment forever.

You'll never forget this; you'll never forget the way his left arm with that cross tattoo of his is bent just slightly, pushed outward, his palm resting flat against the cool tile of the shower; the way his head is tilted back, the water from the shower sprout running down his hair, his neck and his Adam's apple, disappearing in thousands of droplets, all slowly sliding down his chiseled chest; and then there's his breathing, the way his chest is rising and falling, and his mouth is opening and closing, where you can tell…you can just tell, his breathing is slow, deep and shallow… probably just like yours right now….

And then, fuck--fuck, you shouldn't use the Lord's name in vein--, but goddammnit, there's his other hand. His right hand, which is meticulously working on his rock-hard- fucking cock, pumping it, stroking it, and sliding on it all torturously and sexy and hot. His strokes are slow, real slow, seemingly painfully slow, but rhythmic, and you wonder --you wonder if he has that same restraint in bed as he does on his dick right now.

Shit, your knees feel weak, literally motherfucking weak, to the point where you could collapse, as all of a sudden this low, sexy growling sound escapes his throat. His strokes quicken. And, God--that was--the sexiness. Fucking. Moan. Ever.

And you shouldn't even be hearing it. Hearing him moan like that. In fact, now that you think about it, this is borderline stalking. I mean, what would he think… if he knew his friend was in here, leaning against his door, watching him jerk his cock off like this?

He probably wouldn't be too pleased.

And you know you're wrong.

As much as you hate to admit it, you are.

You're not his girlfriend.

You're his friend.

His fucking friend, and as his friend, you shouldn't even fucking be spying on him like this.

You're his friend, but, but….It's so hot--the way the fingers of his left hand are curling inward and outward as he continues to pleasure himself, almost as if he's trying to hold back for all he's worth, like he can't stand it for much longer. And the water that keeps flooding all down him, with his hair darker than usual because of it. It's grown out a little longer, and he's got his face clean shaven, and … and he looks simply to die for.

Gulping, you feel the wetness in your panties, seriously, literally soaking through the layer. You have never been this horny and bothered before, and you don't think you've ever wanted something so bad in your entire life as you want him right now.

Watching him like this, it's like a fucking Catch 22. If you do the right thing and you turn away, you miss out on seeing the rest of this beautiful man, doing this most erotic thing. But if you stay…and if God forbid, you get caught--you'd be--God, that'd be bad.

And then there's always your conscience, which kind of, it's too late to turn back now anyway, so…

No, you can't leave. It doesn't fucking matter. You can't...you can't turn away at this point. You don't have it in you.

Most of all, you can't stop watching his hand.

His big hand, his long fingers, gripping his big, hard dick…stoking himself, long and hard, thrusting in and out…Jesus…

…Jesus, it's like you're…it's like you're mesmerized by his actions; every fucking stroke, every swipe, every breath, every move he makes, you're mesmerized.

I mean, sure you know guys jack off all the time, and sure you've had an ex do it in front of you, but you've never…you've never actually seen them do it in the flesh, watched them like a fly on the wall, not knowing you're there, just soaking it all in.

And then, then… to watch someone like Justin, someone as gorgeous as him do it, god, it's all the more breathtaking, all the more knee-weakening, all the more your little pussy aches with need and desire…

You gulp when he bites his bottom lip right then; his strokes are coming quicker now. Still with a rhythm, but quicker along his length. He seems like he could be getting to that point now, that brink where there's no turning back. His hand moves smoothly and swiftly over his hard dick, squeezing it, his thumb swiping over the head every so often.

And every now and then he'll let out a little cry, a cry that makes you want to cum in your pajama bottoms. The open door is starting to do little or nothing to help the steam fogging and clouding up every mirror, every glass surface in that bathroom of his.

Shit. You want to just touch yourself, right here, right now…'cause you're going to go insane watching him like this for much longer, not being able to do a damn thing about anything. But hell, you're afraid if you stop, if you even stop long enough to think about doing anything like that, you'll miss it.

You'll miss that moment where he lets go, that beautiful moment, where everything in his world stops, where for one fucking, intense, earth shattering second he…

Oh - fuck. Oh-god no, this--this can't be happening to you right now.

No, no, no!

But yes, yes, it can.

And it is. Yes it fucking is.

You just…you just fucking let the door crash against the counter, as you got caught up in your haze, and barely noticed the way your body was leaning all heavy against the door, your weight becoming more dead and fucking heavy as the seconds went by. ..

Your heart reaches an all time level of erratic as you quickly pull the door shut, closed, barely noticing his head snap up and to the side.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…you have no idea if he saw your or not, but if you don't get your fucking ass out of his room and back to yours in the next 10 seconds…you know, God you don't even know what he'll do.

You're sitting here, freaking out, with the bedside lamp on in the room, darting your eyes all around the manila walls, wondering if he fucking saw you or not. A part of you wants to say there's no way in hell his head snapped up that quickly; and so he's gonna just have to chalk it up to strange events with that whole door thing happening and everything. But then, then another part of you, the part that knows you're just not that lucky--it's got you thinking that you're in big trouble. You don't know quite what kind of trouble you've gotten yourself into this time, but you know something is going down.

Shit.

Your brain is just a mess, traveling about a mile and a half a minute. You don't think your heart has stopped pitter-pattering in your chest at all since you hauled ass out of Justin's bedroom and hurried your way back into the guest room, you know, the one you were supposed to be at the whole entire fucking time tonight to begin with?

Damn it.

Hell, you've been in here again for about all of five minutes by now, and still, still you just--you just can't believe it. I mean, you're still in shock over what you saw.

Justin. In the shower. Fucking beating his dick.

God…It just, it kills you! It was one of the most exhilarating things to watch in your life, and yet…yet here you are, feeling entirely all too guilty for what you've done...

A loud knock suddenly sounds on your bedroom door, and you could swear you almost have a fucking heart attack at the unexpected noise. Seriously. So much for your heart rate slowing down any time soon. In fact, you think it has just picked up tenfold.

You knew it. You fucking knew it. He did see you and now he's here, probably ready to kick you out of his house and tell you how much he hates you for being so pathetic.

Shit.

What do you do? What do you do now? You need to think fast.

And why did you turn the fucking lamp on? Really, why are you so stupid? You could have pretended you were asleep….you could have…

Shit.

Another knock comes, this time a little more persistent, a little louder in volume. So you do the only thing you can think of in this moment and you quickly reach over to the night stand, grabbing the Bible that happens to be lying on the surface. Yeah, so…you know it's not the most appropriate book for a sinful girl like yourself, but shit--you have to pretend like you've been doing something in here for the past hour or so!

Opening the book to a random section, you force yourself to utter your next words. "Come in…" you say softly.

You look over to your left as the door cracks open a little, and sure enough, it's Justin, hesitantly sneaking his head inside at first, trying to get a feel of what you're doing. A courtesy in a department you're totally lacking apparently. When he sees that you're just reading, he slides the door open further, stepping inside and closing it behind him.

You notice he's gotten dressed since the shower, as he stands before you in some gray sweats, a white t shirt, and freshly showered hair, still wet, a dark brown, and god--can you seriously smell him from over here? Damn it, why does he have to be so good looking?

"Hey…"

Gulping, you try your best not to look at him all wide eyed, or act too suspicious or anything. That was a nice enough greeting; and maybe, just maybe he doesn't know you were spying on him tonight. Fuck, this whole being in the dark thing is really killing you here. "Hey...uhh, what's up?" you ask, sitting up a little stiffer against the pillows, absent mindedly flipping through the next thin page of the Bible.

Justin scratches the back of his neck, chuckling softly, shaking his head, " Well…umm, I guess I couldn't really sleep and umm… I was going to down to get some water, but I saw that your light was still on, and I figured maybe we could talk a little…" he trails off, obviously waiting for your permission to stay.

Okay…so you need to assess this real quickly.

He's acting normal, and he's visiting you in the middle of the night. I mean, this is good you think. It must be good if wanted to see you again enough to stop at this late of hour, and, he hasn't said anything about what happened in his room and that's really good news.

So maybe he really does think it was just some freaky occurrence with the doors and maybe he has no clue about what you did tonight! Thank God if that's the case!

Either way, you need to just get yourself together and appreciate the fact that he's in here, looking that sexy and wanting your company for a while. Scooting over, you pat the now vacant spot on the bed next to you and say, "Yeah, cool…come sit down by me."

-----

So Justin wants to know why you're so jumpy.

You two have just been talking and chilling causally for the last fifteen minutes or so, but it's like you're a lost cause. You're a fucking lose cause tonight, and you can't pull yourself together at all. You just can't act like nothing fucking happened tonight. No--no matter how hard you try it--you can't seem to shake your guilty feelings; you can't shake the images of what he was doing in the shower to himself out of your mind.

And it doesn't help that he's been sitting by you, smelling all manly and fresh and clean, acting all cute and flirty and shit, and now concerned. It's torture. Pure torture.

"Girl, seriously--are you ok? You're all jumpy and shit…" He laughs, placing a comforting hand on your bouncing leg.

Oh god, oh god, he's got his fucking hand on you now!

You should be happy. You should be consumed with utter ecstatic feelings, but no. Instead, you're guilty conscience is eating away at you.

Bringing his hand away from where you seemed to have been staring at it, he quickly puts it back into his own lap apologetically. "I hope I'm not making you feel uncomfortable or anything like that, girl."

Great. Now he thinks it's his fault.

And now you feel even worse. In fact, you know right in this second that the only way you're going to ever feel okay around him again is if you just admit it. You need to just fucking come out with it, get it over with, cleanse yourself of your actions. Right here, and right now. Tonight.

Because if you don't just come out with it now, you're going to chicken out in the long run, and for some reason, you just have this gut feeling that you need to tell him. You have to.

"No, no," you quickly shake your head, shooting down his worries. "It's not you, it's just…well, well there's something I kinda wanna tell you, but…"

But how do you fucking try to explain that you caught your friend wanking and didn't exactly bother to turn away at all? Yeah, not so fucking easily, right?

He gives your shoulder a little encouraging squeeze, obviously perceiving your nervousness. "Okay, what is it?" he questions you sweetly.

"Well um…" You trail off and laugh a little, a habit of yours when you're nervous, and then you bring your hand up to bite at your nails some. "Well, umm…" You start again, trying to think of the best way to just force the words out of your mouth, but still coming up short.

You're just drawing blanks. A bunch of fucking blanks and Justin is just leaning into you further, all interested, all sexy, all perfect, all waiting for you to tell him something…

Damn.

Grabbing your hand, Justin stops you from biting on your nails and then chuckles at you a little. "Jesus…stop it woman. Just tell me what's up already!"

You shake your head, mentally scolding yourself for being such a moron. Why do you have to be the type that giggles and stutters and acts all goofy when you're nervous? Why can't you just be the smooth type, the type that is eloquent and knows the way to tell someone anything that's on their minds?

Dammit, and he's still waiting. "Right. S-sorry about that," you say, at last. Gathering all the strength to tell him what you can, you try this again and mutter, "So um, Justin…umm, well umm….there's something I kind of have to tell you," you fail, repeating yourself again like the idiot that you are.

As if he didn't already understand that part or something.

Your quiet and erratically stalling sort of behavior is getting him a little flustered you notice, and exasperatedly, he tells you, "Yeah…what is it…why are you nervous girl...Just tell me…" he demands out all in one short breath.

"But, but you're gonna think I'm such a jerk-off… " you explain, wanting to smack yourself upside the head when you realize what you've just said. Oh shit…wrong use of words. Really, really

'great' use of words. Way to go. You're brilliant.

"I mean…" You take a deep breath, giggling nervously and stalling only for another few seconds, "Oh god…this is so hard….ugh…umm, shit…" You bite your lip at all the suggestive words you're using and he doesn't even seem to realize it; he's just looking at you blankly, probably thinking you've lost your damn mind. "Oh god, Justin… This just…this isn't coming out right at, at all…"

Taking another deep breath, you groan, covering your face in your hands in utter humiliation. It takes you a few seconds to compose yourself, but when you do, you look up and you're determined to tell him finally. You're just going to come out with it once and for all.

"Listen, the thing is, I um-I was going to see if you were awake, and like somehow I don't know how, but I just I ended up walking into your room a little and I.."

He doesn't say anything, doesn't try to fill in the blanks for you. Fuck, he's not making this easy at all, especially with him looking at you like that.

You force yourself to continue, "And then I, I saw you in the bathroom and you were…" You gulp, closing your eyes and wishing you were done telling him this last part already. But you're not. "And you were in the shower and you were-- you were--"

You're trying to squeak the last bit out, but you just can't. You open your eyes to try to take him in and for a second you see he's indifferent. You know he knows what you're trying to say by now, and finally, a look of embarrassment washes over him. You feel so, so bad and so, so low in this moment that you just want to crawl into a hole and freaking die.

It's completely fucking awkward in the room, as Justin chuckles nervously, reaching back to scratch his neck and shaking his head at you. You feel like a little girl, who's about to get reprimanded for stealing the last cookie before supper or something. You haven't felt this pathetic in a long, long time.

"So you just…wow," he chuckles again, breathing it out harshly, "I mean, just…wow…how, how long were you there?" he finally asks, kind of as jumbled as you are for once in his words, biting hard on his bottom lip when he asks the last part.

You ring your hands together and wish, wish to everything you could say just for a second. You just saw it and you left. But, but you can't lie to him. You just can't. Not when he's looking at you, right in the face, waiting for you, his deep blue gaze killing you on the inside. God, you wish you could say you saw it on accident and then ran off, but no--no, you're a fucking stalker. And now he's gonna hate you for it.

"For a… umm, it was a while…" you even wince as you admit it aloud.

You can see something flicker in his eyes, and you're scared. You're scared to death of how he's reacting right now. He's calm, but, is he really? Good God, you need to break the silence. You can't take this agony. "I mean I didn't turn away at first…I just, I was going to but then….then I…I don't know," you ramble nervously, knowing you're not redeeming yourself, not one freaking bit.

He might be angry, he might just be embarrassed; you're not quite sure. You STILL can't read his emotions exactly. He's stoic when he questions you next, "What, so you lost the sense to walk, you lost your two legs and you couldn't just leave…" he asks somewhat sarcastically, trailing off after he says it.

"I-I don't know, I just….I couldn't turn away." You admit, lamely, staring him in the eyes, feeling yourself tear up a bit. "I mean, it was like a train wreck, you know, you're not supposed to look, but you just do..."

"Oh?"

You wince at your choice of words once again, way to insult him… way to be a fucking idiot even more so. "No, no, I mean…not that it was bad on the eyes or anything…umm…well, Justin, like I wanted to turn away but….well …"

If you haven't stuck your entire foot in your mouth and down your mother fucking throat by now, you don't know when you ever did. You sure as fuck are starting to regret ever telling him in the first place. What the hell were you thinking anyways? You could have just fucking got over it and forgotten about it. He didn't know. But no, you just had to open your big, guilty mouth instead.

"Jesus." You whisper under your breath. You feel embarrassed, dejected tears surfacing under your eyelids again. Yes, they're about ready to fall at any minute now. You try to hold them back though, 'cause really, if anything, he's the one who should be crying right now.

But really, you're humiliated, you're an idiot and he probably thinks that too now. Any of your chances with him are fucking GONE, not that you had any chances with him other than being friends to begin with. But he's your friend still, at least you hope he is, and here you are, babbling like an idiot, basically insulting him in the midst of admitting you spied of him while he wanked!

Wow.

Just wow.

You really just want to go to bed now and forget this night ever happened.

There's a moment. And a few more moments of silence, and the silence is stressing you out completely. He looks kinda pissed now maybe, tapping his fingers on his leg, staring off ahead into the front of the room.

Once again, you don't know why you don't keep your damn mouth shut, but you don't. "I'm sooo, really sorry Justin. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I will," you promise. "Like…I understand I totally invaded your privacy and …I just, God, I'm really sorry…"

More silence, that's what you're left with.

You bite your bottom lip and feel it tremble.

And just when you are starting to lose all hope, waiting for him to get up and flip you off or something, finally, finally Justin whispers out softly…

"Anything?"

Your hopes are up at once; maybe your friendship isn't damaged for life, thank god.

"Anything," you repeat in solid confirmation.

----------

You're nervous. You're entirely fucking nervous right now. You should've known what he would want before you even offered to do anything. You should've fucking known. I mean, after all--it would only be fair. You saw him, so he should get to see you, right?

Shit.

In a way, you're kinda excited-nervous though; not necessarily a bad nervous, it's kinda nice, having his eyes roam all over you, propped up on his elbow, laying on his side as he just watches you lay there in your little black boy shorts and lavender camisole.

You know you're supposed to give him a little show, but what if he doesn't like it?

I guess that's really why you're freaked out.

Looking over at him, you give him wide eyes and whisper his name, "Justin…"

A moment of guilt washes over his face when you say it, you think, as he reaches out to touch your jaw. "If--if you don't think you can do this," he pauses, shaking his head, "No… you know what? This--this isn't fair of me….I mean, I shouldn't… I shouldn't of asked you to do this." He quickly pulls away and says, "Just forget it girl…ok…just, I'm gonna go back to bed."

Shaking your head in protest, you frantically grab for his arm, turning him around before he can get too far. "Justin, wait."

He glances at you in the dimly lit room, the light from the bedside lamp the only thing allowing you two to see each other right now. "Just…just stay. I wanna do this for you, okay?" you tell him softly.

"Are you sure?" he asks you. "I mean, I want you to, but…"

"Justin just…just let me do this," you interrupt all his doubts, coercing him back into the situation.

And just like that, the moments seem to blur all together, as he lies back down next to you, same position, sideways, still propped up on his elbow, watching you all eagerly and concentrating on you so deeply.

You feel his gaze burning into you as you slowly manage to lose your top, reaching down and crossing your arms before arching your back up and throwing it to the side of the room.

You look over to see Justin staring at your exposed breasts, licking his lip in what you hope is appreciation.

"Niiiicee," he finally breathes softly, more to himself than to you maybe.

You smile and sigh, sucking in a breath.

You know what's next, and soon you'll really be putting on a show for him. You let your eyes quickly fall down to his crotch that is beginning to strain, and you take comfort in the fact, ready to keep your promise to him.

---------

"…Girl, I--I swear you--you have no idea, no fuckin' idea what you do to me…do you…" he whispers against you.

You're breathing deep, rubbing your clit in small circles, wishing to God you had his hard dick inside you by now. Shit, you want him in you so, soo bad. You don't know how long you've been touching yourself for him, but damn, he's gotten a little more and more involved in it by the second, and it's starting to kill you.

Mmm, you bet he'd feel so good, so big, filling you up completely, making you feel him real deep…. and you bet he fucks real nice, real hard, and he just makes you feel real, real good.

Because you know he's that good. He's just gotta be.

You feel his breath against your ear again, his words all low and seductive.

"…The whole time I was touching my cock, god, I was so hard, and I just-- I just kept thinkin' about you…"

You can't believe you're fucking hearing this. As each second passes, his words get more and more bold. Who would of known? He was thinking about you? Little ole' you! His little friend, his little friend who watched him get off tonight and now who he's watching much the same way. Shit when did you get so mother fucking lucky?

"….the way you sat across from me all night, biting your bottom lip and lookin' up at me all sexy…fuck your little skirt and then when you took your top off…remember that girl? God, I was so glad you lost that hand… I wanted to see it all…"

He doesn't stop, pays no mind to the things he's doing to your head, as you lay there, pleasing yourself as best you can, breathing raggedly, soaking in every little touch he passes your way, every single little word that comes out of his mouth. You don't miss the way his hands lightly trail all over your body, rubbing against your collar bone, your face, your neck , your jaw, one of his large hands stopping to tease your hardened nipples while you touch yourself.

" and fuck, you had on that sexy black bra…and then you were fucking just sitting there… smiling all innocent and good girl at me…how good are you really though? I mean, would a good girl like you, would she like watching me stroke my shit, all long and hard for her…did you like that girl? Did you like what you saw? You wanted to see me come, didn't you?"

You moan when he says this; just…good god you're gonna lose it. He's turning you on so, so bad. You keep stroking your little clit, rubbing yourself, hoping for a release. A goddammn, fucking release. Any second now, any fucking second…you could cum, please…you need this, you need to cum for him.

"..…mmm, god baby…." He says softly to you, "I just wanted to take you away and push you up against a wall and, and…"

Fuck it all to hell… his voice, the things he's saying, him, he's just… it's just, it's driving you crazy! Up until now you've been kinda shy about what you've said with him tonight, all tongue-tied and nervous, but now-- dammit --now you wanna know, you wanna hear him say this. Finally you breathe something out, not giving a shit about how you're sounding to him at all, "And what--what would you of done to me against the wall J?"

"What would I have done?" he laughs, low and husky beside you. "To you? God girl, to you, to you--I'd do everything with you…I'd wanna do anything and everything, but…"

He's seriously, seriously got you all messed up, and you're about to just--

"But, I'd take you against the wall….yeah, and I'd just fuck the hell outta your little pusssssy, all hard, slamming up into you right against that wall, baby…"

You whimper a little when he roughly pushes your hand away then, replacing it with his own just like that. He strokes you nice and good, continuing to ear-fuck you with his words…. "yeah and,I bet it's realll tight, isn't it girl? And I bet you'd feel real amazing around my cock… wouldn't you baby?" he demands softly.

You don't answer though.

So he pulls his hand away again, and his fingertips go up to play with your nipples, cupping you in his hands, as he licks up your neck, gently biting down onto your earlobe. You waste no time, starting off with what you are damn well determined to finish. You put your hand right back down to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously, while he continues to assault your upper body in the most pleasurable of ways.

You knew he'd be good at what he did. You knew it. He's good at fucking everything, but shit, shit, it feels soo, soo good and…

Justin whispers lowly into your ear next, breaking you out your admiration of his many talents as he says to you, "God baby, do you know…do you know I've wanted to see you like this for so long…?"

You shake your head 'no', biting your bottom lip, pressing extra hard down onto your clit at his words. You almost wanna cry. This feels good, so good hearing him say all this; everything you could of dreamed of hearing from him while you're touching yourself, and he's not--he's not even inside you yet and it feels this good. You wonder then, is he going to fuck you tonight? Will you even get to feel inside you? Or is he gonna…

"For so, so long…I've wanted to see all of you, every bit of you, and now…now here you are, so beautiful...and doing…" He pauses, pulls away from you just stares down at you for a second while you continue on your brink of pleasure.

The way his blue eyes are staring down on you, as if he's memorizing every inch of your body, every fucking single inch. It's much the same way you were engrossed in watching him stroke his dick earlier in the shower, and oh shit, you just can't take this much longer. "Justin…I, oh god," you breathe out shortly, "I- I think I might be almost…about to…"

"Fuck that." He reaches down and takes your hand away and you're in a little bit of shock at his change of voice, and fuck--the way he stopped you from cumming just now! Really, who the fuck does he think he is?!

"What…what the…what do you think…"

"I think you needed to stop," he demands sternly, wasting no time for apologies.

You would get mad, but…but all you can do is pout at his authoritative tone. You look up at him and you seriously have a little pout on your face. You're afraid this is it. You're afraid he's gonna just leave you here like this, kinda like that fucking song he sings, that shit about What Goes Around, Comes Around and shit.

I mean, what if…what if he's just gonna leave you here, and he's gonna pay you back for how you watched him tonight? How you watched him without his permission, which is what might of made him want to watch you, but that's just it--nothing less, nothing more.

That's just gonna be fucking it…

Oh fuck. You don't know what you'll do if that's the case.

You're just die. You'll just fucking pass out right here in his guest bedroom!

And with these kind of thoughts in mind, for the second time that night, your senses all on fucking over load, you can just feel the frustrated tears about to spill out. Desperately, you weakly try to protest to him, grasping at anything, "Justin, please, please don't…"

"Shhh…" Justin takes his hand and cups your cheek, shushing your lips with his pointer finger. He leans down over you and kisses your forehead, your eyelids, silencing your body. You relax underneath his touch, instantly reassured that this isn't all some fucking game to him. "Shhh," he coaxes against your lips again. You feel him hovering over your mouth, and you realize, you haven't even fucking kissed him yet. After all this, and still you haven't felt those lips against your own lips yet.

It seems like forever, until finally, you feel the pressure of his mouth softly merging against your own. You sigh into his mouth, as he pries your lips open, slipping his tongue inside. He kisses you softly at first, but soon your kisses become more urgent, more passion-filled, as you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him until he's straddling you, his hands pinning you against the bed on either side of you.

He kisses you and kisses you until you feel light headed, dizzy, fucking weak in the knees, his hard dick pressing into you through the cloth of his gray sweatpants. Shit, he's way overdressed! Pulling your lips away from him, your turn your head to the side, struggling to catch your breaths much the same way he's doing above you, trying to bring his breathing down steady as well.

Despite all this heavy breathing, you want nothing more than to forget about your need for oxygen, and to just satisfy your need for him instead, to continue this all with him some more. Right now, what you want to do is, you wanna reach down and go into his sweatpants and touch his cock. His fucking cock…God, you want to stroke it for him real good, real good, just the way he was in the shower, but maybe, maybe even better…

And just as you've gained your courage, your ability to be bold with him, and you try to push your tiny hand down , he catches it, leaning all his weight on one arm and looking down at you kind of reprimanding. "Don't you want me to touch you?" you ask him innocently, disappointed with him for stopping things again.

Is he ever gonna let you get off? Dammit, you want to feel him. You want to grip his thick length in your hand, and you want to pump his hard dick, just stroking it and torturing him some the way he's been doing to you forever now.

"No…I just want you to take it," he answers you in a rough voice, pushing a strand of sweaty hair off your face. Suddenly, dirty, seductive Justin is back, and you can't say you want to complain about this. "Just take all of my cock, and hold onto me tight girl, real tight, 'cause now…"

"Now you're gonna fuck me hard?" You giggle, interrupting him uncharacteristically smooth for the night, if you do say so yourself.

He gives you that little half-way smirk of his when you say this, looking down at you, shaking his head in amusement. He's looking at you like he thinks you're adorable, sexy, and like he wants you like-yesterday. It makes you thrilled inside. "So the good girl wants it hard…" he chuckles, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He sucks at your bottom lip for a second and then he pulls up, leaning into your ear, whispering all sexy to you, "Yeah that's right, you're gonna it, you're gonna get fucked real hard, just like a good little girl like you needs to get fucked."

His words have got you almost twitching in mother fucking anticipation. You've had enough of this dry humping, bumping and grinding, jacking off and fingering yourself in front of each other bull shit. You want the real mother fucking deal and you want it now. You want his dick inside you, fucking you for all your worth.

Tugging at his white t-shirt, you waste no time in helping him strip himself down till he's just as butt nekkid as you. You'd love to take the time to examine every fucking ridge and perfect inch of his toned body up close, but fuck it, you don't have time for all that right now.

Justin's mouth is pressing against your own lips frantically, and he pulls back, you breathing deep, looking up into his eyes. He chooses that moment. This moment, and he rubs his hard dick right against your soaking wet pussy.

You push your hips up, trying to take him in. But he doesn't let you just yet. Instead, he pulls his hips back and grabs your hands, placing them above your head so their pinned against the pillow, spread out behind you. "Would you fucking just…. fuck me…?" You cry out desperately, caring little to none on how coherent you sound right about now.

"Hmm, like…" he fucking sinks his hard cock right up in you then, rough, filling you fucking more than adequately. "…like this girl?"

You feel your breath hitch in your throat; nothing would have been able to prepare you for this. Nothing. The feel of him, stretching you, God, just inside you all deep like this, it's…it's perfect. "God, fuck--yes…" you moan, moving your hands wildly about you.

You're desperate to meet his thrusts as he starts a steady pace, fucking sliding in and out of you, making you feel amazing. Your knees are bent, touching on either side of his hip, as you wrap one leg lightly against his ass, trying to get him to go deeper, faster. He continues to fuck you, slow and deep, leaning on his elbows for leverage, one hand touching your bent arm, pinning you down on the bed, as you let him fuck you.

You squirm beneath him, you're trying to touch the top of his head, but he's too strong above you, got you all twisted while he fucks you nice and good. "Shit, Justin," you moan, his face descending till he's sucking on one of the tips of your breasts. He doesn't stop torturing the peak as he fucks you and you glance down with heavy eyelids, meeting his eyes just for a moment as he pulls back with a smack and little satisfied smirk. He moves his hand away from your arm and takes it to roughly grip your other breast, paying it some attention with his mouth to, as he slides over to suck the next one into his mouth.

You've never had a man fuck you like this, and God he feels good. He's got this wild animalistic way about him right now, and it fits, it fucking fits just as well as he fits inside you. You fucking love this.

When he's paid your breast the attention he thinks they deserve, you have to cry out as he quickly sticks two fingers into his mouth, smoothly, swiftly pulling out of you and then sliding down just enough so that he's got his head leaning against your stomach, his arm bent out, and finger fucking your clit and pussy.

"Oh my God…" Your hands are digging into the sheets, clutching, pulling, grasping, desperately grasping at something as he attacks you with his hand.

"Shit, girl…" He breathes out, amazed. "You're so fuckin' wet and, and…."

Oh fuck me you, you cannot take this. You can't handle him doing this to you again, his words, his long fingers torturing you, and only to not let you cum after all is said and done. No. You can't. You just can't.

So roughly and crazily, you grab onto the little hair on top of his head, wanting to shut him the fuck up and get his cock back inside you again like now. You're sick of his fucking torture. You're sick of him giving you a little bit, only to make you wait. No, no, no. You've waited enough. You want it now. You want it all, his everything, all he's got to give you now.

Breathily, you tell him, "Goddaminit Justin, I don't care what you have to say, but you say it after you get your ass back up here, and once and only once you're fucking me again…"

Your mouth goes dry as something seems to click inside him at your needy demand. He pulls his fingers out of you immediately and charges back on top of you like an animal on its prey. He wraps his strong arms underneath your ached back, rubbing near your rib cage and lower back, all over, thrusting his cock right back into you in an instant. "Is this what you fucking wanted?" He hisses, roughly. "Is this what you thought it would be like? While I was strokin' my hard dick for you to watch, is this what you hoped it would feel like in your little, tight pussy?"

Yes, yes, and mother fucking hell-yes to all of the above, Justin Timberlake.

He's fucking you uncompromisingly and his upper arm is hitting right against your chest, his face mere inches away from your mouth, just hovering above it after he speaks, almost like he actually expects you to fucking formulate words when he's doing you like this.

"Huh girl, answer me, is it?" he asks again, pounding into you harshly, waiting for your answer.

He must be out of his god-damned mind, but...you try to speak anyways. "No…" you force out, breathlessly, barely able to continue before he interrupts you menacingly, obviously not satisfied, not once relenting in his fucking you…

"No?" he demands, harshly.

You take a second to weakly shake your head and then you clarify. "No it's…it's even…it's even fucking better," you grit out, squeezing yourself as tight as you can on him as you say it.

He smirks against your mouth, you can feel the pleased smile against your lips, and he gives you a little peck at least. He slides his hands up beneath your back, up to the back of your head, tangling them into the damp strands of your sweaty hair. "Fuck, girl, I--"

You just wrap your arms around him, lightly fisting them against his back as he hits all the right places deep inside your depths, still, over and over again. You reach your head up and place a little kiss to the side of his face, right below his ear.

He moans against you and you can tell he's losing it this time. He's fucking losing it. He's not going slowly anymore; he has no mercy, and he's fucking you hard. His brows are knitted together, his face contorted with the look of someone who's having some gosh-damn-amazing-fucking-sex. The friction of his cock diving into you is mind-blowing, as in and out, in and out, and over and over again you feel his hard dick thrusting into you, his breathing sweet and heavy against your body.

God, he's incredible.

You cry out his name, and you rub your hands along the sweat-sheen skin of his back, scraping your nails up and digging them into his smooth, hot skin as he goes so deep it hits you just the right way. You don't even know when or how it built up to this, but before you know it, you're shaking, withering beneath him, clutching his dick inside your pussy walls as they contract around him.

Justin groans and keeps thrusting, and thrusting, leaving you sore and limp, until finally you feel him hit the edge to, reaching his orgasm, shooting himself inside you deep. He dick twitches inside of you and he collapses on top of you, weakly supporting his weight against you, breathing heavy and quick paced.

You run your hands over his back, soothingly, a little smile on your flushed face as you let him calm down. You can't believe--you can't fucking believe--this just happened. The man of your dreams, your friend Justin, just fucked the hell out of you and it was damn well amazing.

Eventually he finds the composure to pull out of you and he rolls over, so he's laying on his back. "Baby," he breathes out shakily even still. "Oh. My. God." He pulls you against him and your heart flutters when he places a kiss on your forehead. He rubs your arm and you rest your cheek against his chest.

You lay like that for a moment, against him, taking it all in, wondering when the hell the storm stopped. Everything in the room seems to go calm and it's just ya'll breathing, when all of the sudden, you have the urge to let out a delighted giggle.

Oh. My. God. was fucking right.

You giggle some more and finally, Justin inquires, leaning his head down and raising an eyebrow at you. "Do you usually giggle after mind-blowing sex?" He asks and you laugh some more, rubbing your fingers gently against muscular stomach.

"No it's just….we'll I guess you know my secret now."

"Your secret?" He ponders aloud. "I thought you already admitted to being a good girl who likes to watch her friends jack-off every now and again without them knowing and shit. Kinda kinky, but…who am I to judge anyone?" he laughs.

You lightly smack his chest, hiding your eyes against him for a second. God, you're never going to live that one down. Never.

And shit, you still can't believe you did it! But hell, look where it got you? If you could do it all over again, you would in a fucking heart beat.

"Nooo," you explain, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes, growing serious again. Nothing could be more embarrassing than what you were already caught doing tonight, so why the hell not? You're gonna just go for it with him. "I meant…my other secret. The one about me being…like, you know…crazy about you," you whisper, shyly.

Justin smiles at you when you say it, kissing the tip of your nose which definitely does a lot to reassure you in this confessional sort of moment of yours. "Ya know baby girl," he tells you in quick response, "I've got a few secrets of my own…"

"You do?" You say, not missing the mischievous glint in his eye as you question him.

"Yeah…I do."

"Like what?"

"Like, that I'm crazy about you too…"

You would squeal, but you're going to contain yourself…

"And like…and like, you're gonna think I'm such a jerk-off…"

"Justin!"

"What?" he laughs.

"So not funny…"

"Okay, okay…but…" He takes a deep breath, pushing his words out jumbled and quick next, "but, I kinda-sorta- might-of-knew-you-were-watching-me-when-I-was-well-heh-heh-you know…" he pauses in amusement, "I mean, you were there and all.…."

Yeah, yeah, yeah! Dammit! You just can't believe it though! I mean, your jaw has fucking dropped. Literally fucking dropped. Is he…is he saying what you think he's saying? No, it's not possible. But, then again, dammit, it is…

"Justin…no, I mean that can't be…but how…" you stumble for an understanding.

He smirks , explaining to you, "I mean, baby, really, come on---there's mirrors in the entire fucking bathroom, on every wall--and I do have peripheral vision that comes quite in handy at times…heh heh, get it? Handy?" And he laughs out loud at his own joke like a big freaking dork.

Seriously, your jaw is on the floor. The fucking floor.

Why that little….

He thinks he's funny…

And that little...

Sneaky…

Well, shit, ok, so you're not Miss Perfect yourself.

But shit!

"Justin!" you squeal. "And--and you let me sit there, like an idiot, babbling, all embarrassed and you already knew! You already fucking knew! The whole entire time!" you continue, exasperatedly. "Oh my God….Justin Randall Timberlake…. I, I am sooo gonna pay you back for that!"

Justin just laughs and sticks his tongue out at you goofily. "Heh heh heh…what you gonna do, huh, what's the good girl gonna do about it…" he teases back lightly.

"I don't know," you huff in resignation. You really don't. You think about it for a second before finally adding, "I'll think of something," in a noncommittal way.

He just smirks, not at all fazed by what you're saying. "Yeah?" he asks. "Well, whatever it is, you just bring it on, okay, you just bring it on…"

"Uhuh…" You laugh and roll your eyes, laying your head back down on him again in total defeat.

Damn him.

Damn him and his goofy, fine ass.

I mean, you kinda wanna hate him and all, but too damn bad he gave you a little show tonight and an a-fuckin-mazin' encore. It's enough to get over it, not to mention, yeah, yeah--it's too bad, it's too bad you kinda fucking love the little shit…