*This celebrity fiction is not based on real events and is for entertainment purposes only. All characters involved in sexual situations are 18 or older. This content is for mature audiences only.*
I pretty much have the best job in the world. I get paid to make drinks for rich and fancy people. They can be needy and have ridiculous requests, but for the most part, they’re happy to be on vacation and have someone that feels like their personal tropical bartender.
The tips are fantastic, and there’s more than enough hot bodies and smiling faces to look at.
Among the hot bodies and smiling faces was someone I’d seen a few times live in concert but didn’t expect to see so closely. Freshly married pop goddess Dua Lipa. Her name was every bit as beautiful as she was.
Her husband, Callum Turner, was a lucky fucking guy. And based on the way his new wife was looking at him, he was definitely fucking, and doing her well.
To say I was envious would be the understatement of the century. I wouldn’t say I was jealous because I wished them the absolute best. I was happy for them. I just wanted to watch her take his cock. Was that so wrong?
I’d absolutely do nasty things to Dua if I ever had the chance. But I also loved the way Callum and Dua loved each other. I’d pay a pretty penny to watch them do nasty shit to each other, too.
I had to force myself to do my job and not just watch them be in love with each other. They weren’t just some celeb couple that formed a “power couple” for clout and clicks. The way they looked at each other was real.
The way they looked at each other when they thought no one was watching stopped my heart. The touches they stole when they thought the coast was clear. It was all real. I wanted to give them their peace, their privacy. But part of me just couldn’t let them be. It was almost obsessive.
I had seen all kinds of couples and semi-famous people come through here. I’d slept with a number of lonely patrons that didn’t come here with anyone but didn’t want to spend their vacay nights alone.
I haven’t been star struck before. It just doesn’t happen to me. But these two were just… so fucking perfect.
Dua was tall, dark, and carved from marble. She was lean, sleek, and deliciously muscled. Her voice was meant for audiobooks when she wasn’t singing. Those dark eyes of hers went from laughing, to observing everything around her, to becoming “come to bed” eyes only meant for Callum.
I’m straighter than a flagpole, but Callum Turner was a handsome guy. He was even taller yet. I didn’t have a yard stick, but he felt like he was 6’2-ish. Broad backed and chisel faced. He wasn’t action star cut, but he wasn’t a slouch. His confidence and demeanor, plus his Englishness, made him a shoo-in for James Bond.
All that to say, these two together were stunning. Stop and make you look gorgeous.
And then they approached my bar for the first time. They were both still dripping wet from the ocean just a few hundred feet from my bar. Water still ran down their bodies, and I wanted to watch Steven lick the drops of salty wetness from Dua’s tight abs.
“Buenas tardes,” Dua said pleasantly. Her eyes were hidden behind giant sunglasses, much to my dismay. She spoke a perfect Spanish, which made her even sexier.
I had the pleasure of knowing English, German, and Spanish. “Buenas tardes, buena mujer. Caballero apuesto. ¿Qué puedo hacer por ustedes? [Good afternoon, good woman. Handsome sir. What can I do for you?]”
I knew they both spoke English. I was white as fuck. But this was funny. How often would I get to speak with Dua Lipa in fluent Spanish?
“Do we want light beers, or do we want the poor man to make cocktails?” Dua asked her husband, turning to face him.
“Our ‘Miami Vice’ cocktail has been particularly popular this week. It’s a layered combination of a Hurricane and a Pina Colada. Pain in the butt to make because it’s making two drinks for one, but they taste great and the presentation is really pretty,” I said, switching to my German-accented English.
Dua turned back to me, an embarrassed blush on her face. “My apologies for assuming you speak Spanish,” she said bashfully.
I chuckled. “I do speak Spanish. But I also speak English.”
Callum laughed. The way he snorted a bit at the end told me he tried but failed in an attempt not to. I liked that. “The Miami Vice, is it? Sounds delicious.”
Dua frowned. “Darling. He just said they’re a pain to make!” She hissed and playfully swatted his arm.
“Just don’t ask for seconds,” I joked. “So, what brings you two out here?” I started to treat these two heart throbs like they were anybody else, and it made my job easier. It seemed to ease them as well.
Dua’s face exploded in bright white veneers and sparkling eyes. Fuck was she ever in love. “It’s our honeymoon!” She beamed.
“We’ve been to Ibiza before, but it’s our favorite place on Earth.” Callum expanded the explanation. “We haven’t been to this resort before.”
“I think I would have remembered seeing you if you had been here on my shifts, but I haven’t been here all that long.”
“What do you mean, you’d remember seeing us?” Dua scrunched her black brows together. Her detective face was charming as all.
I shrugged, trying to keep up the act of not knowing them. “You’re a striking couple. That’s all.”
Callum smirked as I fired up the blender with the Hurricane portion of their drinks. “You’re a heck of a tip-getter, aren’t you?” He put his arm protectively around Dua’s shoulders.
I didn’t blame him. I’d guard her jealously too if she was mine to guard.
I smirked, matching his own. But then his faltered. “I don’t flirt with customers. A lot of the bar staff here do. But I don’t think stating facts counts as flirting. Do you?”
Callum’s face sobered and Dua’s mouth slacked a little. Funny how they responded so in opposite.
“No. I don’t.” He swallowed, and his Adams apple bobbed in his lightly stubbled throat. The married man recovered with a scoff. Was it a chuckle? “So, you’re saying my wife and I being a stunning couple is a fact?”
“Callum.” Dua whispered, putting a hand on him.
I couldn’t tell if he was getting defensive, or peacocking.
“That’s what I’m saying,” I confirmed. I turned my back to wash out my blender before assembling the Pina Colada half. When I turned back around, Callum had Dua pulled close to his body, lips on the middle part of her raven-black hair.
It would have looked like any happy couple if her cheeks weren’t so flushed, and there wasn’t a predator’s steel in his eyes. They were newly married. They were a famous couple that the press and fans hounded relentlessly, and neither of them were wearing much.
I didn’t take the performance personally. Especially because I fucking liked it.
“Here you are, friends. Felicidades [Congratulations].” I handed over their red and white drinks, an orange-wrapped cherry on each of them.
“Gracias,” Dua said. Her usual smile returned. She lifted her glass in a quick toast, and Callum steered the two of them away, but not until he tucked a few notes into my tip jar.
It didn’t escape my attention that he had a large hand palmed over her succulent ass as they walked away. And Dua did nothing to dislodge it.
This could be fun.
Dua and Callum didn’t come back for seconds. The only two I wish would have.
The rest of my shift was utterly boring. No other guests had my attention at all. I could just think of those two. Together.
I had no interest in small talking with other people, so I pretended to only speak Spanish. It made me laugh. And think of her.
When my shift ended, I couldn’t help but feel like I needed a cold shower. All I could think of was those two. His hand on her ass. His lips on her hair.
I pictured where else those lips could kiss on her body. What her warm flesh would look like dimples under her black bikini bottoms.
Something shook my core as I shook the images from my head.
I wasn’t picturing what I could do to her.
I was picturing what he could do to her.
For the first time, I was picturing another man with his woman instead of me with another man’s woman. And it felt… transcendent.
I headed towards the resort-use rinse-off shower just off the end of the marked swimming area. Using the shower and the beach was free for employees, and it was a perk I used regularly.
It was stress-relieving and a good free way for me to stay in shape while interacting with other people.
After changing out of my semi-casual khaki shorts and resort polo, I was happy to be in a tank top and swimming shorts. Next stop was the shower to rinse off before heading into the ocean.
The shower runs cool, which makes going from the cool shower to the warm ocean a tingling sensation. Like a milder version of running from a sauna to a pool.
But when I got to the shower house, one of them was occupied. And the door wasn’t entirely closed.
The doors don’t lock, and you’re not supposed to strip to use them. The couple sharing the shower were still clothed… but they were all over each other.
And it wasn’t just any couple making out, getting handsy under the shower. It was none other than Callum Turner and his horny new wife, Dua Lipa.
Their hands ran all over each other; through hair, over shoulders, backs, toned stomachs. And their mouths. I had never seen two people devour each other like that.
It was like watching a porno, the way they clicked teeth, sucked each other’s tongues. The way he sucked her pulse point, and she licked the column of his throat.
I was already fucking bricked in my swim trunks just from watching them kiss and fondle. And then she grabbed his junk.
Dua ran her palm over the outline of his length, curled her fingers around it and squeezed.
He sighed into her mouth, and I realized he wasn’t going to stop her. Callum wasn’t going to move her hand away. Wasn’t going to tell her they shouldn’t.
I wasn’t going to tell them. Far from it. I stayed where I was and watched the show. If only I could reach into my trunks and give myself a tug. Unfortunately, I was more discoverable than they were. Anyone could walk into the shower block and see me. It’d be obvious what I was doing. That I had just dipped my toes into being a voyeur. And I didn’t want to blow their cover.
They were mine to watch.
But their shower stall door… it was nearly half open. Did they really not notice?
A smile split my face like a bolt of lightning. Did they want to be watched as much as I wanted to watch them?
I remembered the way Callum behaved just hours ago; the kisses, grabbing Dua’s ass so openly. And she didn’t push him away.
Dua shoved her hand down Callum’s shorts and kept massaging him. Callum tipped his head to the rock wall behind him, eyes closed.
Had he opened his eyes, he would have seen his bartender watching him get worked over by his drop-dead gorgeous missus.
But he didn’t open his eyes. His jaw slacked, and he groaned a deep, guttural sound as his wife kept touching him.
I shook my head, trying to make sure I was seeing what I was seeing. But the vision was still there; Dua Lipa dropping to her knees in front of Callum Turner.
She pulled his black trunks down to his knees and pressed his thick, hard cock to the side of her face. Dua was nuzzling his manhood, getting his scent, his precum, all over her beautiful face.
“I want to suck it,” Dua said breathily. She ran her open mouth up and down the shaft, her warm, dark eyes up at him. “Can I, baby? Can I suck this perfect, married cock in this shower? Please?”
Callum looked down at Dua like a king, and in that moment, she was happily giving him that crown. He pushed down on her chin with a thumb, and she opened her mouth, tongue out. He spit right on it, and she curled it to hold the saliva there. She was waiting for the order and wouldn’t do it a moment early.
“Suck.”
His hand moved from her chin, her jaw, to the back of her head as she moved forward and took the head of his cock into her wet, waiting mouth.
Callum groaned again, his throat muscles straining with his fight to stay quiet. Dua bobbed back and forth like her continued survival was dependent on how well she smoked her lover’s cock.
In my humble opinion, Callum Turner was the luckiest son of a bitch alive. And I was the second luckiest because I witnessed this raw, carnal display of sexuality, love, and lust.
Dua moaned with her mouth full, lips stretched around her husband’s fat dick. She worked what wasn’t in her mouth with one hand and reached in front of her to pull her bikini cups away from her modest breasts.
A lot of comment sections said they were too small, but I think they were perfect for her incredibly athletic frame. Everything about her was perfect.
“I love your tits, babe. These nipples.” Callum and I seemed to share a brain cell. He reached down and pinched her nipple, rolling it and tugging it.
Dua moaned around his length and leaned forward as he tugged, sliding more of him into her throat. She was slurping and gurgling now, and I was hard as hell.
Callum’s eyes were focused on his wife, on the way her throat bulged with his meat. The mix of hunger and adoration was enough to make me groan.
Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened. It slipped out of me, and all I could do was hope they didn’t catch it. I had to hope the sound of the shower hitting the rock floor under them; their own sounds of need would hide my slip-up.
It didn’t go my way.
Callum slowly lifted his head, eyes tracking me. He made eye contact and then looked down. I looked down. It was pretty fucking obvious that I was more than a little erect. It was the kind of hard-on that took a while to get that size. He had to know I had been watching.
Dua stopped, sensing the shift in her man’s body language. She slid her mouth off him, but kept slowly stroking, and craned her neck over her shoulder.
She and I connected. Her cheeks flushed and I swallowed. Callum’s hand tightened in her hair.
The air turned thick and heavy, like the atmosphere just before a thunderstorm.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out scratched and cracked, and I felt lucky they came out at all. “I’m going to… I need to go.”
“No.” Callum’s voice came out measured, even, and stronger than mine had. “Don’t go. Don’t report us. It’s our honeymoon.”
Dua twisted her body, letting me see her peaked, dusky nipples. She stroked Callum faster in front of me. “If we let you watch…” She licked her lips. “Will you promise not to report us?” She had clearly seen my erection. She had to know I liked to watch.
I licked my lips as a wave of anxiety rushed me. I had to play this exactly right. There was no way I’d report Callum and Dua, but if I said that, my show might be over.
“Keep going, babe. Give him a reason to stay silent.” Callum helped Dua up, and they shifted their bodies, giving me a side-on view.
Dua squatted down, looking back up at her betrothed. And he looked at her. “Are we sure about this? That he won’t tell?”
“I won’t.” It was all I said. I didn’t want to be a part of the moment. I didn’t want to affect the way they did their thing. I just wanted to watch. That was all. “I’m not even here.”
“Good.” Callum put his hand on Dua’s drenched black hair and led her mouth back to his lightly twitching prick.
I dared to step closer, leaning against the shower doorway, but not crossing the sacred threshold. I didn’t want to push my luck, and I wanted them to know I recognized a boundary.
Callum’s head fell back again and his hand in Dua’s hair tightened as she stuck her tongue out, letting it run over the bottom of his cock as she took him back in.
I felt like I was watching the world’s greatest VR porn. They never looked at me, completely ignored me as Dua worshipped her husband’s cock, and he groaned in appreciation of her warm and wet throat.
“You suck me so good, baby girl. Don’t stop. I want to cum in your mouth, okay?”
Dua kept his cock in her mouth like his good girl as she nodded, ready for his load whenever it was ready. She didn’t spare me a glance as she fondled Callum’s heavy balls, like she could churn out a heavier payout.
I crossed my arms, trying to fight the all-too human urge to whip my own cock out and beat on it. As much as I wanted to, that’s not what this was. I told myself that wasn’t okay. An invite to do so from Callum would be different. But this already felt like a hell of a gift.
“Go ahead, baby. Be good for me and touch yourself, okay?” Callum’s words were a command, but so soft and loving. I was enamored with the way he told her what to do, but did it so softly, and for her pleasure.
I hoped to God Dua would untie her bikini bottoms and let me see the bare round of her ass. Her angle would have kept her pussy shielded from me, but knowing it would be perfectly exposed made me twitch in my trunks.
I was denied that tease but was still given the gift of watching Dua rub her pussy over her black bikini bottoms. Her eyes rolled and she started to rhythmically fuck into her own palm and fingers.
I bit my lip, watching two of the most sensual people I had ever seen being so filthy, but so unashamedly embracing their lust for themselves and each other.
“Don’t stop. I’m close.” The strain and urgency in Callum’s voice told Dua that he wasn’t bluffing, and she’d have plenty to slurp down.
“Yes! Do it! Come in my mouth, baby. I want to taste it on my tongue. I want to swish it around before you watch me drink it!”
“God, you’re filthy.” Callum tried to laugh, but it was cut off by a hiss of breath.
Dua was twisting both of her hands over Callum’s slobbery cock, just the tip in her mouth. She sucked and licked his sensitive cock head until he was pulling on her hair so forcefully I imagined it had to hurt.
And then with a strangled grunt, Callum’s back arched, his hips pulled forward, and I knew he was unloading.
Dua didn’t stop milking his cock for a second as she hummed around the fullness in her mouth. Her eyes smiled because her lips couldn’t. She braced and began to suck harder, and I knew Callum was filling his wife’s mouth with cum.
Callum groaned, and I could see his thighs quivering as he pressed himself against the back wall. “Shit! Oh my God!” His hands left Dua’s head and pressed firmly against the rock wall of the shower behind him.
Dua kept humming contentedly, hungrily, as she kept sucking the ball milk from her lucky husband. Her hands kept massaging his nuts and his shaft, getting every last drop he had to produce for her.
When she was done, Dua opened her mouth and rolled her tongue around, playing with the warm, creamy, beautiful mess she and her husband made. She broke the fourth wall by turning to me and letting me see what he gave her.
My cock twitched. I had never been aroused by seeing someone else’s cum before, but seeing Dua Lipa’s mouth dripping her husband’s cum was just… mind breaking.
She looked back at Callum, closed her mouth, and swallowed all of it down. Her still-glossy tongue swiped out and licked her lips from corner to corner. With one last kiss to Callum’s reddened tip, she pulled his trunks back up and stood to her full height.
The happily married couple turned to me, arms around each other. Callum’s eyes went down to my trunks. I was still inside my trunks, still hard. I hadn’t touched myself despite how much I would have loved to.
“Our secret’s safe?” Callum cocked an eyebrow at me.
“Dude, it was safe the whole time. You could have told me to fuck off the moment you knew I was there, and I wouldn’t have said shit.” I chuckled anxiously and allowed myself to adjust my trunks but made sure I didn’t have contact with my neglected boner.
“What’s your name?” Callum asked.
I blinked. We were still talking. And between the bar and here, I had never given my name. I thought me saying the secret’s safe was going to be the only words exchanged. “Uh, I’m Fynn. Good to meet you two. Big fan.” I laughed anxiously, rubbing the back of my head.
“So, do you do this often?” Dua asked, running her hand over Callum’s stomach. “Watch people get intimate in the showers?”
I shook my head. “Nope. Definitely not. Your shower door was open quite a bit. I would have completely ignored the sight if you were, well-”
“If we were anyone else?” Dua finished for me, a proud smirk on her face.
“Yeah.” The admission was a guilty whisper. If I had the physical ability to blush, I probably would have been. I genuinely didn’t know, but it was a blushing situation if there ever was one.
Callum shifted his weight but didn’t seem to be in a hurry. The shower still running was entirely ignored. “You’re not usually a voyeur, are you?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “First timer.”
Dua giggled. “We took your voyeur cherry. Lovely.”
Callum and I laughed together. She was completely collected, even though her gorgeous little tits were still out. I wanted Callum to pleasure those nipples of hers the whole time we talked.
She was his wife, and I would absolutely respect that, but I still wanted to watch her in sheer pleasure.
“Have you two ever done this before?” I asked. This had already gone further than I expected, and I kept pushing the envelope while I was given the chance.
“Should we have this talk over some libations if we’re going to keep chatting?” Dua asked her husband, her eyes on his jaw. She still hadn’t fixed her top, and it made me smirk.
I loved how casual they were being about just having put on a blow show for a mysterious bartender.
“Care to join us for a drink, Fynn? Perhaps in our suite? If this conversation continues, it won’t be one we want overheard.”
*Part II coming soon!*