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Chapter 6 by fantaseer fantaseer

Who will you choose?

Brie Larson

Your mind drifts as you consider the hundreds of options in your head, and you remember the last movie you watched: The Marvels. Brie Larson in her tight suit grabs you for a second, as the room immediately responds to your imagination. Within seconds, you find yourself planted on firm asphalt, standing adjacent to a row of trailers on a bustling set.

The one directly in front of you has Brie's nameplate, so you shrug and let yourself in. Going up a small set of stairs, you find what almost feels like a house on wheels with a small table to your right, alongside a small nook with a television. To your left is a kitchen, fridge, and a small couch. Standing in the doorway to what you assume is a bedroom, Brie Larson has her back to you, bent over at the waist in a pair of tight pink boyshorts. You can see the curves of her ass poking out, a perfectly heart-shaped peach enticing you to take a bite.

You stare for a few seconds as Brie continues to stretch, enjoying the view, rubbing yourself through your sweatpants, before coughing lightly. Brie snaps to attention, clearly unaware she had an audience. Turning to face you, she's wearing a black sports bra, hair up high in a tight ponytail. She looks none too pleased to be interrupted, or made to feel so ****.

"Who the fuck are you? A PA? You can't knock?" she asks, crossing her arms to cover her visibly sweaty cleavage. "Did you get a good look?"

"I really did, yeah" you reply, confidently. She rolls her eyes dismissively. "I bet, you fucking perv." What should be an insult just made your dick even harder. You did always love her more dominant personality - speaking her mind with confidence. And it made the fantasies of her being made to petulantly suck your dick that much hotter.

"Well?" she continued, looking you up and down, clocking your erection, but saying nothing. "Do you need something? Am I supposed to be on set?"

"Oh, no. We've got time," you say, without any earthly idea if that's true.

"What? Time for what?" she asks, hands on her hips. Her tight abs on full display, you're shocked that your knees don't go weak. But you focus your energy on the task at hand and grab the waist of your sweatpants, pulling them down swiftly.

"Well, I could use some help with this," you say, gesturing at your dick as you step out of your pants. You are hard as granite, erection pointing at the Oscar-winner like an arrow. "And I figured you wouldn't mind helping me out."

Brie's mouth drops, aghast. "What do you expect me to do with that?!"

Well, what do you expect her to do?

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