The following is purely a work of fiction. I don't know the celebs in it nor do I know their sexuality. If you are under 18, you cannot read any further.
The Miseducation of Slim
Chapter 3: P.I.M.P.
Marshall Mathers jerked awake, his naked body covered in sweat. He threw the sheets off, and let the cool air of the hotel suite hit his skin. It had been a week since his encounter with Nelly, Justin Timberlake, and Nick Cannon and each day made Slim more and more paranoid that someone would find out about what happened.
Climbing out of bed, the white rapper went to the bathroom and decided that since he was already sweating, he might as well hop in the hot tub. The warm water melted away the chills and tension that wound him up. He had spent the past couple of days in a fearful state around his daughter while she visited, afraid that somehow she would find out what her daddy did with other guys. But now Haley was gone and Slim could relax a little.
In fact, now all the hot water was causing a stir below the waist as Eminem's thoughts drifted back to Nelly. The St. Lunatics rapper had been the first to initiate Slim into the ways of brotha on brotha love, and in lust for more, Slim had returned the next evening and that's exactly what he got... from Nelly, JT and Nick.
"Mmmm... fuck yeah," Em mumbled to himself as he wrapped his hand around his cock. As he realized that he hadn't shot a load since that night, his dick began throbbing even more insistently. Slim threw his head back and looked at himself in the mirrored ceiling. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tight body with tats all over... no wonder so many other dudes were into him... over 30 and still hot as a motherfucker.
Slim changed hands from right to left, and then reached behind him and started rubbing his pucker with his middle finger. Now, with his dick harder than steel, Eminem began to finger fuck himself.
And that's when the phone rang.
"FUCK!" Slim yelled, releasing his still throbbing rod and removing the finger from his sphincter. Reaching the phone on the wall behind him, Slim hit the "Talk" button and yelled into the receiver, "What!?"
"I'm in the elevator on my way up, nigga... wake yo ass up!"
CLICK.
Curtis Jackson made his way through the hotel lobby absorbing all the attention that was coming his way. He was wearing his pimped out, G-Unit gear, black bullet-proof vest, low-riding jeans, G-Unit baseball cap, and had some major bling on, including his diamond encrusted crosses and G-Unit belt buckle.
A group of teenage girls recognized him immediately. "Oh, my God! It's 50 Cent!" They mobbed the rapper with pens and paper wanting autographs all around.
Curtis was more than willing to oblige; these were some cute little white bitches and having the number one album in the country had him higher than the blunt he smoked in the limo. He was horny as shit after his smoke, but he had other plans right now. "I gotta run, ladies," he said. "Got to take care of my shit, know what I'm saying."
The girls thanked him profusely and 50 Cent made his way to the hotel elevators. Once inside, he flipped out his cell and hit the digits to Slim's suite.
"What!?" the white rapper yelled after the phone rang ten times.
"I'm in the elevator on my way up, nigga... wake yo ass up!"
The elevator came to a stop on the floor that housed Eminem's suite. He got out and walked down to the door and knocked harshly until the white boy opened the door.
"What up, Boo Boo?" Eminem said using Curtis's old street nickname as he opened the door wearing a white bathrobe.
50 Cent entered the hotel suite without being invited, slamming the door shut behind him. "What the fuck, nigga?" he demanded.
"What?" Slim protested.
"Where the fuck you been all week, bitch?" 50 shouted. "You left me hanging on the album. You was supposed to be promoting it with me!"
"Aww, shit, bra," the white rapper said. "I'm so fuckin sorry, bra... I got hit by some heavy shit this week, son. And I had Haley for the past three days. I ain't seen her in a month. I didn't even call Dre' to find out the sales last week."
"900 thousand, bitch!" 50 announced. "Without your bitch ass!"
"Holy shit, Fiddy, that's fuckin killer."
"I know! What the fuck was you doing, anyway? You're all wet."
Marshall blushed. "Umm, you know... just sitting in the hot tub."
"No shit... you got a hot tub up in here. Shit, why didn't you say so nigga?" Without another word, Curtis Jackson began to undress right there in front of Slim. He kicked off his boots and released the Velcro on the Kevlar vest. Unbuttoning his jeans, he pulled them and his boxer briefs in one smooth motion. Soon, the only thing that 50 had left on was his diamond crosses and baseball cap.
Slim Shady had to restrain his jaw from falling open in front of the black superstar rapper. The dude had the tattooed body of a god and was obviously unashamed to show it off. Of course there was nothing to be ashamed about, especially that dick that hung down six inches soft, curling over a set of bull balls unlike anything the white boy had ever seen.
"Come on, motherfucker...," 50 said. "I ain't done nothing but business all week thanks to you so now I'm gonna get some release."
Slim quickly turned and headed to the master bathroom, more to hide the enormous boner that had quickly risen, than to get back to the hot tub. He disrobed and quickly submerged back into the hot tub, before his young protégé could see that he gave him an erection.
Curtis slowly lowered himself into the warm water, almost like he was showing off his built-like-a-brick-shithouse body. "Damn!" he shouted. "That shit feels good. Been runnin round non-stop cause of you."
"Shit, I'm sorry, Boo Boo. You deserve better, man."
"Damn straight, son! I'm runnin all over this bitch making you richer and you ain't done shit, bra. That ain't right!"
"Fuck, Fiddy," Slim shouted in frustration, "I can only say I'm sorry so many times, yo. What you want me to do? Suck your dick?" He said it before he could stop himself, realizing that he really did want that black fuckpole down his throat.
"Damn, Slim..." Curtis said. "I never thought you'd ask." With that, 50 stood up out of the water and sat on the edge of the hot tub, legs spread to reveal that what was six inches soft, was now an almost impossible twelve inches hard. "Well...," he said after Slim stared at it for almost thirty seconds. "You gonna get you bitch ass over here or what?"
Shaking his head, Eminem made his way across the hot tub to where 50 Cent was sitting. Crawling between the black stud's legs, he reached out and grabbed the biggest cock he had ever seen. He wrapped his right hand around the base and wrapped his left above that and still had almost three inches of dick left. Opening his mouth, he started working his mouth down the foot-long black pole. He's lack of dick for the past week, caused Slim to practically inhale Fiddy's cock.
"Goddamn!" Curtis yelled. "You suck cock better than a bitch, Slim!"
Eminem moaned at the compliment and worked more of the massive meat into his throat, but, like with Nelly's ten-incher, he couldn't reach the base. Slim backed off of the cock and grabbed 50's balls with his left hand. Unable to resist the temptation, he opened wide and took those mammoth balls into his mouth.
"Ooooh, yeah, baby," 50 said approvingly, "suck them mutherfuckin balls, bitch. I ain't nutted in over a week, so they nice and full for ya."
Slim moaned with the brown man sack filling up his mouth nearly twice as much as Nick Cannon's had. He jacked his black protégé's veiny dick with his right hand and reached up and grabbed his brown man-tit with the other.
"Naaah," 50 Cent said. "It's bout time ta fuck that ass, Slim."
Eminem knew this and agreed. The young white rapper stood and turned around leaning over the side of the hot tub, spreading his legs apart. The black stud came up behind him and spread his asscheeks. He spit at Eminem's brown man-pussy and worked his fingers up in there. The warm water had helped loosen Slim's hole, also.
Curtis Jackson placed his gargantuan dick at Marshall Mather's threshold and pushed in. Slim screamed in pain as the head pushed in, but once that was done, he experienced the most filling sensation he ever felt. He thought that Nelly's dick had been huge, but even Nelly would have to bow in respect to 50 Cent's massive man pole. Fiddy just kept pushing further and further in until Slim thought that the bitch would pop out his mouth. Finally, he felt the tight, black torso hitting his ass and he knew that the black rapper was all the way in.
"Fuck, Slim... nice ass!" 50 said beginning to piston in and out of the white boy's ass. After almost ten minutes of fucking, his body drenched in sweat, the black stud pulled out. "Damn, bra... I'm still doing all the fucking work, here. You need to fuck my dick, Slim."
"Damn, I'm sorry, Boo Boo." Marshall Mathers turned, looking around the bathroom. He saw that there was a towel bar over one side of the hot tub. He sat 50 with his back to the towel bar. Slim got out of the hot tub and, grabbing the towel bar, lowered himself onto 50 Cent's twelve-inch joystick. Using the towel bar for leverage, he pumped himself up and down the black cock, one hand on the towel bar, the other on his own eight-inch boner.
"Yeah, that's it, Slim... ride my dick, you little pussy white bitch. I knew I'd get to take out my problems on yo ass. Ha!"
Slim gazed down at the bullet-scarred body of the black god he was riding. "Oh, yeah... fuckin big dick mutherfucker. Awww, fuck, nigga... yeah fuck my white ass!"
"Who's yo pimp, bitch? Say my name, mutherfucker!"
"Fiddy... awww fuck... Fiddy! Fiddy! Ahhh... ahh... ahhhhhhhhhh!!"
Eminem couldn't hold back anymore and shot ropes of white cum all over his newly signed rapper, which contrasted drastically with 50's glistening black skin. The contractions of Slim's ass as he shot, sent Curtis over the edge.
"I'ma unload in yo ass, bitch...ohhhhh.... Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!!" 50 shouted releasing his load deep inside Eminem's bowels.
The two rappers peeled apart, both sticky with sweat and cum.
"So," 50 Cent said, still panting, "you wanna talk about what's been on yo mind all week?"