This short story takes place a few months after CLOWN Chapter Four
SHORTS NO. 1: ‘BIEBER’S WORSHIP’
Bieber almost seems excited to not be locked in stocks, where his soles and armpits would be stroked and manhandled by not one, but two Clowns at a time.
Instead, he sits calmly on a chair in my studio with his beautiful bare size nines on the foot rest, their fragrant scent and silky smooth exterior almost bewildering to acknowledge.
They were right.
Bieber is a God.
He’s different to the others.
As he looks at me, with a smirk and a sparkle in his, dare I say it, flirtatious gaze.
That is something I recognise immediately.
Unlike Holland, Chalamet, Lerman, Bassett or Orlando, Bieber is entirely aware of his levels of attraction; his good looks, his global fame, his success, what being this ticklish can do to people around him …
People like me.
He owns every fibre of his desirability; he’s cocky with it, confident, assured and above all else, he is astutely mindful of how gorgeous his feet are.
He curls his toes, scrunches them, wiggles them with a grin; tucking his hands behind his head, further more exposing those furry pits, well shaped biceps and detailed tattoos …
He knows what he’s doing.
I try to hide the blush forming across my cheeks by placing the camera closer to my face.
I take one, two, three photos as I circle Bieber; zooming in on his soft soles, his long toes and his bulbous looking heels.
“Your feet are incredible …” I admit, “… Are you one hundred percent sure tickling is off the cards today?” I enquire.
Bieber shakes his head slowly, crossing his legs at the ankle.
“No more tickling,” he whispers, relieved that his time as a ticklee with The Clowns had now come to a contractual end, after winning his mini tickle tournament against Mendes, “Just pictures, man. As many pictures as you like.”
I feel my cock stiffen beneath my chinos as he says those words.
‘As many pictures as you like’.
“And in any pose, with as little to no clothing as I require, correct?” In my mind, I breeze past the paper work Miller showed me earlier this morning, recalling specific bullet points within the document …
Bieber nods just the once, uncrossing his legs and placing his feet side by side.
“Whatever you want, man …” Bieber speaks quietly, his eyes closing, as if finding comfort in my admiration, “… Just no tickling …” he reinforces that point a second time, which makes my cock twitch harder …
Man, this guy must be pretty ticklish …
I continue to take photos of Bieber’s body, from his toned shirtless torso to his denim clad legs, all the way down to his feet; feet adored and lusted over by millions of fetishists all over the world …
“I’m one lucky sonovabitch,” I recognise, my camera clicking and flashing, my stance now knelt as I position myself mere inches away from Bieber’s soles, “Scrunch your toes for me,” I ask, “Nice and tight …”
Bieber does as he is told, curling all ten of his toes into a tight scrunch, their shape now causing my mouth to water.
I slowly and carefully place by camera at the base of the foot stool.
“Can I?” I look at Bieber with raised eyebrows as I curl my hand around his right foot and place my lips near those scrunched up toes.
Without having to gather more information, Bieber nods with a smile; he knows what I want, without me even saying it - the desire is clear, it’s obvious, it surpasses the need for simple communication.
Bieber unscrunches his toes as I begin to breathe in his right soles scent, moving my nose across to his left sole, burying my face between both of his feet as I close my eyes.
My god, I think.
They smell incredible.
I start to lick at his right second to last toe, before consuming his middle toe with my mouth, where I suck on it as if it were a lolly pop.
He grins; I feel his foot pull a little - only a slight tug - but enough to inform me that this tickles the twenty nine year old pop star in more ways then he’d like to admit.
I tighten my hold as I continue to suck, my tongue curling around Bieber’s index toe before my lips consume both of his big toes all at once, his feet stiffening up under the wet sensation of my mouth and its attempt at devouring what is, in my opinion, Bieber’s most attractive body part.
I purposefully glide my teeth across the pads of his big toes, to see what he’ll do—
—He sits up, reaches across with both hands, pulls his toes out of my mouth and then uses his fingers to conceal the bottoms of his feet as he glares at me playfully.
“… No tickling,” he reminds me.
I hold my hands up in surrender, my lips puffy after sucking so hard on Bieber’s toes.
Bieber relaxes, sitting back down, his hands landing in his lap.
His dominant smirk informs me I can continue.
I close my eyes and begin to kiss Bieber’s soles, my pecks landing on his heels, the sides of his feet, his soft, flawless arches …
He bites his lower lip and begins to massage his cock beneath his jeans, watching my worship from his seated position, now taking his right foot away from my kisses where he decides to press it against my face.
I breathe in his sole, feel the force of his foot against my nose, eyes and mouth, god this boy is something else …
My heart begins to race when I realise Bieber is getting off on his worship.
He’s rubbing his right palm across the growing bulge under the denim, his teeth are biting down harder on that lower lip, he’s taking in every kiss, every breath I take, every impassioned suck or lick I deliver to his index toe, his second to last, his pinkie …
I open my mouth wide and take all four of Bieber’s right toes between my lips, allowing his big toe to stand free and twitching as my tongue devours and curls around all four toes at once.
I hear Bieber gasp; his surprised reaction at the skills I proudly display turns me on so much that I can’t resist in rubbing my own erection, both of us now suddenly caught up in a moment that was meant to just be photos and some small talk, a moment that had now transformed into a reality I had fantasised about hundreds of times before; in the morning, in the shower, whilst driving or before I head to bed …
Suddenly, the excitement is put on pause as Bieber’s feet shuffle away from my mouth.
Dread fills my stomach as I look up at the twenty nine year old pop sensation.
“Lemme take off my jeans,” he whispers.
I nod quickly, licking my lips, trying my hardest not to let my relief express itself in the scream of joy I so desperately want to release.
Bieber unbuttons his jeans and then lifts his butt, pulling them away from his waist and down to his knees, still seated in the chair.
He doesn’t fully remove them, leaving the denim gathered around his ankles, his semi erect cock displaying a clear outline under the thin white cotton of his Calvin Klein underwear.
He flexes his toes and closes his eyes, tucking one hand behind his head as the other hand goes back to stroking his cock, the communication between us both once again not requiring words or sounds, just body language and an unspoken understanding.
I hold onto his jeans, curling my left hand around the denim between Bieber’s feet; the way they’re positioned around his ankles works as a form of bondage, keeping his ankles secure, his legs unable to kick or move much, if at all, as I decide to go against his wishes and gently stroke his soles with the fingertips of my right hand.
This time, Bieber doesn’t reach forward or sit up in a fierce jolt; he holds back giggles and opens his eyes, glaring up at the studio ceiling, his feet twisting and writhing a little under my touch, all ten of his toes curling into a tight scrunch.
I flutter my fingers over the fleshy landscape that makes up the bottoms of his feet, blown away by how easily I’m getting away with this, every single movement Bieber’s ticklish feet have to offer thickens my cock in ways he’ll never understand.
He squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands, pulling his feet away from me, my hold on his jeans remaining firm.
“Okay, alright, stop, stop —” he mutters breathlessly, “—no tickling—” he repeats, for the third, fourth, fifth time? I’ve lost count.
I play it safe and turn my toying touch into something more pleasurable; I begin to massage Bieber’s soles whilst kissing each toe gently.
Bieber’s grin fades as he bites his upper lip, massaging his cock into a fully formed erection; it’s shape is so huge and stiff that the tip is teasing the possibility of poking out of the elastic waistband of Bieber’s underwear.
I suck on Bieber’s big toes, both at the same time, wedging them in my mouth as Bieber, without asking, pulls down his underwear so that it sits around his thighs, his throbbing hard on springing free, his juicy balls now plump and snug beneath his cocks hairless base.
With his toes still in my mouth, my eyes widen at the sight before me; this unbelievable dream that has become my very expensive but absolutely astounding reality …
I can’t believe this is happening …
I can’t believe this is happening …
I can’t believe this is happening …
“I can’t believe this is happening …” I say my thoughts out loud.
Bieber chuckles, a little entertained by my disbelief, his right hand now holding onto his erection as if it were a gear stick; he is proud of its size, he shows it to me like its some well kept secret that he only lets those closest to him know about, “Wanna suck it?” He asks, his left eyebrow lifting, his tongue rolling across the roof of his mouth, “If you think my toes taste good, you wanna get your tongue around this …”
Bieber’s big toes pop out of my mouth as my jaw hits the floor.
I waste no time in exploring his offer, but not in the way he thinks I will …
I hold onto Bieber’s jeans, still caught up around his ankles, and then I stand.
I move forwards, taking Bieber’s feet with me, so that I now overshadow him in his seated position.
I get back down on my knees and I plant his soles against my chest.
He is reminded that he isn’t in control, even if he thinks he is; I’m in charge, I paid for this, I’m the one calling the shots.
I kiss his toes, I lick the side of his right foot, I even bite down on his right big toe, causing him to wince.
He still strokes his cock, a little harder, a little faster than before; maybe me putting him in this position turns him on, maybe me moving in this close intimidates him, after all I am now causing the young pop star to be wedged into the back of his seat, his knees bent up to his chest, his feet planted against my torso …
I use my right hand to hold onto the jeans gathered around his ankles as my lips brush against his toes, my left hand journeying down to Bieber’s cock and balls where they intentionally breeze past, instead landing in a gentle stroke around his taint …
Bieber’s mouth opens into the shape of an O, his nostrils flare, his eyes begin to water.
He stares at me with a look that says, ‘You’re the first person to do that’.
He is alarmed, aroused, allowing, all at the same time, his now swollen lips pressing together as he feels my fingertips stroke his ass, their presence nudging closer to his hairless, tight hole.
His butt is almost off the seat, his knee caps now resting under his chin, the softness of his soles laid out over both of my nipples causing my cock to twitch, my left hand to tremble as I extend my middle and index finger …
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Bieber nods quickly, his eye lids falling shut, his free hand behind his head, his right hand stroking his erection at a speedy rate …
I press gently.
He inhales sharply.
I press again, this time increasing the pressure.
His eyes open.
He looks at me.
He is entirely overwhelmed, a frown arriving over his forehead as he tries to understand, tries to compartmentalise all of his thoughts, his feelings, the physicality of my fingers now entering him slowly, carefully, with respect and attention to his levels of comfort.
His lower lip quivers.
I slide my fingers out, just for a few seconds, allowing him the chance to breathe before I slide them back in.
“Oh—” Bieber’s eyes widen as I arrive at his prostate, “Mnn—” he can’t believe that I’m able to make him feel this good so quickly, so expertly, so professionally, “—Holy shit,” he whispers.
I go back to kissing his toes as I finger him, my lips brushing over the lengthy, fleshy digits as they curl and scrunch beneath my stubble, Bieber’s stroking hand bringing him closer and closer to orgasm as my fingers slid in and out, never fully leaving his hole, teasing the suggestion of an exit before going back in, the inside of the pop star now feeling warm, wet, unbelievably smooth and soft …
Bieber’s already watering eyes begin to glaze over.
His vision blurs as he raises both eyebrows and looks at my face, his mouth now wide open, a look of complete shock taking over his handsome features as the visceral meaning of pleasure arrives around his hips, it tightens his brain, his sends goosebumps over his neck and shoulders, it shoots like lightning past the base of his cock, up his shaft and out the shimmering, throbbing tip of his erection where it erupts all over his tanned, tattooed torso in the form of creamy white gushes of cum …
He arches his back, hissing, cursing, still watching me as I keep my fingers inside of him, “You fuck,” he narrows his eyes, “You, you fuck—” he growls, his toes still curling around my licking tongue, “—You mother fucker—” he huffs, a line of sweat forming over his upper lip.
I blink.
I find myself standing there with the camera at my face.
Bieber is seated in his jeans and pink beanie, his feet crossed at the ankle, his impatient eyes shifting over to the clock nailed to the studio wall.
“You only paid for fifteen minutes, you’ve got like, ten left …” he says, “… Make the most of your time, man.”
I smile.
I place the camera by the base of the foot stool and slowly take hold of Bieber’s right foot …
… Where I decide to try to make my fantasy become a reality.
YOU CAN FIND MORE JUSTIN BIEBER CONTENT IN ‘CLOWN’