Ariana Grande

Your prick is even more so erect as you gawk at the small figure standing in the doorway. Your eyes caress her smooth, tan skin. Her brown hair is tied tightly in a ponytail. She's wearing only a white bra to cover her torso. You remember reading online that she was a 32A, incredibly small. The bra is lace, and possibly slightly translucent. You can quite vividly imagine her nipples, the peaks of her small mounds. You look lower. Her belly button is covered by the hem of a baby-pink miniskirt, which also does little to hide her gorgeous thighs. If it were an inch higher, you'd see her panties.

"Hey," she says with a smile, and then bites her lip.

You greet her back, still immensely confused and lustful.

"I'm free for like—fifteen minutes—if you want to do something quickly," she tells you.

Your boner is aching as you listen to her words. You're not quite sure what she means, but sex is the only thing on your mind.

"... Like what?" you ask her.

"I dunno—like—something fun," she giggles. "Let me take care of your stiffy, like yesterday."

"Yesterday?" You ask. Your heart is beating a thousand times a second.

"Nooo ... Don't tell me you don't remember?" Her mouth is open as she mocks you. "We fucked sooo haard!"

You can't believe it. You had sex with Ariana Grande and you can't even remember?

"Well then," she whispers. "We'll just have to make up for it right now."

"For real?" You ask.

She sits on the edge of the bed, her ass touching your toes. "Fifteen minutes. I'll do anything, within reason."