The Secret Celebrity Orgy

Author's note: This story features real people in situations that are completely fictional. All characters are over 18 years old and any ages not specified should be understood to be over 18 years old

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You moved to LA six months ago with Becca, your aspiring actress girlfriend, a fun, goofy, pretty thing who you’re madly in love with. Who you care for so much, you were willing to upend your life, move into a shithole apartment and take a crappy data entry job while she pursues her dream.

It hasn’t been easy but three months ago there was finally a small sign of progress. She got a gig in a commercial for potato chips.

For the most part life is boring. There’s not much money to enjoy the city. In six months you haven’t seen anyone famous. Not that celebrities often visit your part of town.

Then one day Becca comes home with unexpected news. She's glowing with excitement. “Have you ever heard of the Marion Davies Gala?” You haven’t. “Well I got invited to it.”

“Really?” You respond. “That’s great. I guess there are going to be lots of industry people there.”

“Uh huh”

“It’ll be good for your career.”

“Definitely.”

“How did... how did you get invited?” You hope that doesn’t seem like too cruel a question, but it doesn't quite make sense that she's getting this opportunity at this point.

“I guess some producer saw my commercial and really wants me to come.” She shrugs. “I’ll need a dress.”

Still feeling a bit suspicious, the next day at work you ask your friend Mac about it. “Ever hear of the Marion something Gala?”

He laughs. Hard. “Who’s fooling ya, dude?” You don’t know what he means by this and your confused face conveys as much. “It’s fake, dude. It’s a myth.”

It’s still not making sense. “Why would a gala be a myth?”

He can’t believe you have no idea. “It’s a... dude, it’s an orgy. It’s the fake name for the big orgy that all the famous people have every year. But it’s bullshit. When you grow up in LA, you hear about it when you’re a horny teenager. Then you grow up and realize it doesn’t make any fuckin sense. There’s no way hundreds of famous people could all get together somewhere and no one knows about it.” He notices that while he’s enjoying your ignorance, you’ve gotten even more concerned. You wonder, does Becca know about this? Did she know what this supposedly was when she accepted the invite? “What’s wrong?” Mac asks

“Nothing it’s just that... Becca got invited by some producer.”

Mac winces. “Yikes. Well you don’t have to worry about her going to an orgy without you, but that producer is definitely trying to fuck her.”

That night you sit on the couch with Becca watching garbage TV, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

“So... I heard something weird today about this gala.” She says. Turns out you don’t need to bring it up. Turns out she didn’t know either. You feel better about that.

“So did I.” You say. “Too bad it’s not a real gala. For your career’s sake, you know”

“But I was thinking. What if it is real?” Becca asks

“A real gala?”

“A real orgy.” Becca smirks. “It could still be good for my career.” You can’t believe she’s saying... what is she saying exactly? “We should go.” She says “You should come with me. No one goes to a gala without a date anyway. What’s the worst that can happen?” You don’t really have an answer to that. Nor do you have an answer to her next question. “What’s the best that can happen?”

Five days later you’re doing it, heading down to some swanky loft in Brentwood, you in a suit, Becca in a tight green strapless dress and thigh highs.

You’re dubious “What kinda gala is in a loft?”

“Not just one loft. The whole complex” Becca explains. “And the type of gala that’s an or...”

“I get it.” You interrupt with a little grin.

You get there. The building is indeed huge and swanky. And dark. You’re supposed to go to the northwest side door. Directions are written on a card that Becca’s been given. You find what you think is the door and try to open it. Locked.

So you try another. Locked too.

“We should go.” You say, starting to feel weird about the whole thing. Realizing that even if it’s real, do you want to spend the night watching your pretty girlfriend fuck a bunch of guys?

“This door opens.” Becca says, at what looks like an outdoor storage closet. It can’t be right.

But it’s not a closet. It leads down a long hallway. Your heart thumps as you and Becca walk down it. The thought another unlocked door. Still dark.

“Hey!” A voice shouts. And light flicks on to reveal a big night watchman. “You folks lost?” He asks. “There’s no trespassing here.”

Becca, bold as always, steps up and hands him the card. “We’re looking for this.”

He looks at it, then looks at Becca, giving her a good ogle “yeah, there’s a problem here.” He says with a frown

“What?” Becca asks.

“There's no clothes for first timers” the guard says. Becca hesitates. If she wants to leave, you’re fine going. You can still bolt.

"Is it that obvious that we're first timers?" Becca blushes.

The guard doesn't seem amused. "C'mon. Strip or go. You can keep the stockings on”

You think there’s no way Becca is going to strip for this dude. You know her well enough to know she has too much self respect for that. But by the time you’re done having that thought, Becca has already pulled her dress up over her head. No bra. No panties. The guard is smiling, looking right at her trim pussy.

Then the attention turns to you. “I don’t have a card” you say. “I thought maybe hers included a guest” which is bullshit but better than “I’m trying to sneak in so my girlfriend isn’t getting pounded while I’m sitting at home.”

“It doesn’t.” The guard says.

Becca reaches out and places a hand on his chest “we can still get him in right?” She licks her lips.

At first you can’t believe it. Is she really offering to suck him off? Then you realize something. What are you doing here? Sure, curiosity over whether this even exists. But part of you has to know it might. And if so, both you and Becca are going to do some prolific fucking tonight. So why are you being so uptight?

“That won’t be necessary.” The guard says to Becca. “But he should strip.”

Embracing a new attitude, and suspecting you’re being asked to strip to prove only one thing, you pull off your clothes, knowing that that one thing should be impressive enough to get you in.

The guard can’t help but look at your impressive hanging cock. “Damn. Alright you can get in. For first timers I suggest you start in room A104. Vanilla room. Nothing scary going on in there.”

“Are there scary things going on in other rooms?” Becca asks.

The guard laughs. “Oh there’s some shit going on. A103 Projection room and A110 Confession room are pretty tame too.” And with that he opens a door for you and you step into a long hallway with lights flashing like a rave.