after the big Oscar SNAFU

"I don't need to tell you what happened at the Oscars." Emma says, clearly intending to tell you anyway. "I won, which was awesome. Then my movie won Best Picture and then they were like 'No. Nevermind. Your movie sucks.'" She seems upset, aggressive now as she retells the story, her hand works wildly at herself inside her panties. As if there's something about the anger that turns her on. "And I was pissed. I mean in front of the press I was all happy and stuff, but afterward at the after parties, I was just pouring champagne down my throat."

She slides her hand out of her panties and holds it up to you, spreading her index and middle fingers, letting her juices stretch out between them. You lean in and slick them clean with your tongue, as eagerly as you've ever done anything in your life.

You're not sure where this story is going. But Emma has promised something good. And even if not, you're enjoying this moment right now.

"The more I drank, the more I realized that the only way I was going to feel good that night was if I did something drastic. Have you ever had a moment like that, where you were like 'fuck everything, I just need to do something crazy like I've never done before?' Emma asks, returning her hand down into her increasingly wet panties.

You watch her rub for a moment. You take in her pretty face, her big eyes, her small pointy nipples poking out of her black tank top. Yes, you think. You know that feeling.

"But I thought what I was going to get into was, like, a night of crazyness. I didn't realize that it would totally change me." She hisses a bit, as she rubs herself. You really enjoy how much she's enjoying telling you all this.

But your cock throbs and your heart pounds. You want to know what came next. "So... what did you do?"