This is a true story, but nobody will believe it. I wouldn’t. They say truth is stranger than fiction. It’s also much harder to believe, especially when I’m forced to leave out all the real names, places and year this happened.

It’s silly, in a way, to so readily doubt that a popular person had a tryst or a sexual dalliance with a non-famous person. Hell, it happens at all times. A lot of celebrities are sexual fiends.

So, why then, when someone shares the gritty details of banging a celebrity with us, is the story so hard to believe?

A buddy of mine told me he was banging a popular director’s daughter on their yacht in Newport. This was back in the early 1990’s. I didn’t believe him. I wondered he was just trying to compete with my long list of sexual conquests.

Then, that next weekend, he showed up at my house in a yellow Maserati and took me to Newport to have lunch with her.

At Lunch she could not stop raving about my uncanny resemblance to a popular actor, but more on that later.

Many people who I have told my story to, who know me, who know what I look like, who know how attractive I was to women in my youth, and who trust my integrity, still discover this particular story of banging one of the hottest actresses in Hollywood very hard to swallow.

I don’t blame them. There’s a lot to doubt. All I can say is I hope you enjoy the story, and that this did really happen. Of course, the conversations aren’t exact. Neither are the blow by blow details on the sex. However, I resisted embellishing it, and it’s pretty damn close.For instance, I wanted to add a sequence of her giving me head and drinking my cum, but that, unfortunately, just never happened. So, I’m proud of how this written version turned out. It reflects what really happened, and that’s what matters.

In this profile I will refer to myself as Harry Hofeeder. That ridiculous name is not my real one.

I will refer to the very popular husband of the actress I banged as John Doe, and I will call her Jane Doe.

I refuse to provide the timeline or the city. That info could reveal which Hollywood power couple I am writing about.

Good luck figuring out who they are. I don’t think, somehow, it will be too hard, especially if you know me, and know what I look like.

First, let me give you some crucial background info that made this all efficient.

I look exactly like the very popular actor whose wife I fucked. Yes, I have been plagued by this resemblance since he became popular. People on the streets would ask me for his autograph so often, I would give it to them to save time trying to deny I was him.

Until I drastically changed my appearance so as not to be mistaken for him, women would actually throw themselves at me.

I must have bedded fifty women over the years who wondered I was him.

In my other stories on this site I have omitted every single conversation that started with, “Oh my God! John Doe! I’m a huge fan. What are you doing here?”

Each story I’ve written should have contained some reference to my popular looks, but I was too sick of those conversations to include them.

I saved them all for this story.

To be more precise, even though my face looked just like his, I am two years younger than the popular actor who I resemble.

I am also two or three inches taller. In my twenties and early thirties, around the time this took place, I was a bit more muscular than he was. My voice is slightly deeper. I speak with a Rhode Island accent. My hair and facial hair was darker and my eyes are darker, too.

Apparently, my penis is significantly larger than his, but I’ll get to how I found out about that later.

There were times in my late twenties that I would shave my facial hair, leave the hats and sunglasses at home and allow people to mistake me for John Doe.

I especially enjoyed doing this when I travelled. So, on this one trip to visit my mom on the west coast, I was in John Doe mode.

I signed autographs, took pictures with people and said the same old stupid lines like, “Thank you. I put a lot of work preparing for that part. I’m glad you enjoyed the movie.”

I may or may not have had sex in the airplane bathroom with a blonde passenger named Jill on that flight, but it could have been on the flight back home to New England. I forget.

Anyway, as I arrived at my destination, after grabbing my luggage and stepping out of the terminal onto the sidewalk, I heard a man yelling, “Mr. Doe! Mr. Doe!

He was in a limousine, driving, and yelling out the passenger window.

I approached and looked inside. He was an older black man wearing a chauffer’s hat. “Did you miss your plane, Sir? Do you need a ride back?”

I laughed and began to tell him that I wasn’t John Doe, but he put the car in park, jumped out and ran around the back side. “Did you miss your flight or just change your mind and decide to stay,” he said, snatching up my suitcase.

Then he paused and looked confused. “This ain’t your luggage.”

I shrugged and said, “I got new luggage… err… in the airport.” I suddenly wanted a ride in that limo.

He looked at me and grimaced. “You changed your hair and clothes, too? Is this for some sort of a part, or something “

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m role playing. Just play along, please. I like to really… Immerse myself… in a character.”

He said, still studying me, “Oh you is immersed, all right, Sir. You is immersed. Y’all even look taller. Are you wearing some kind o’ platforms?”

He inspected my sneakers.

I laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed back at me and gave me a wink. “I get it. Play along.” He shook his head as he popped the trunk and placed my bag inside.

Closing the trunk, he came back and opened the limousine rear door for me. “Now let’s get you back to the hotel and the misses.”

“The misses?” I said, climbing into the back, and realizing exactly who the chauffeur meant.

She was John Doe’s beautiful young wife and one of the hottest actresses alive. My penis twitched a little just at the prospect of meeting her.

“You want to go back to the Ritz Carlton, right? Or do you want to go somewhere else?”

“No. No, that’s perfect. Take me back to my wife.”

The chauffeur dropped me at the entrance and handed my luggage to a bell-hop. The bell-hop looked confused for a moment and then seemed to shrug off whatever had perplexed him. “Back up to your suite, Sir?”

“Absolutely,” I said, thrilled I had gotten this far.

“You can stop at the desk and get issued another room key, or I can grab that for you if you like.”

Please do. Thank you.”

When we arrived on the top floor of the hotel, as soon as the elevator door opened, I knew the jig was up. There were two men in suits, obviously security, standing in the hallway and huddled together, talking.

I figured they must personally know John Doe, and wouldn’t be nearly as gullible as a chauffeur or a bell-hop.

I walked toward them and the door of the penthouse suite, fully expecting to get confronted.

Instead, they both gave me quick nods of recognition and continued chatting together in whispers.

They never even looked back at me again.

I opened the door to the room with my card key, and took my suitcase from the bell-hop.

Handing him a twenty, I nodded as he thanked me and I quickly shut the door.

“Who’s here? John? Is that you?”

Jane Doe’s voice was calling out from forty feet away in the master bedroom. Her head peeked out from the doorway.

In my best John Doe voice, I said, “Yeah. Missed my flight.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping your plane would crash.”

Jane Doe, her hair a mess and with no makeup on, marched out of the master bedroom. She had on a white silk tank top, no bra, white, baggy silk boxer shorts and pink ankle socks.

She stopped in front of the door to the bedroom, lifted a bottle of booze, holding it high up for me to see, and said, “Cheers, Motherfucker!” Then she tipped it up, and guzzled at least two fingers worth, swaying as she drank.

Jane Doe, the hottest actress in Hollywood, was standing – albeit, unsteadily – twenty feet in front of me, half dressed and, hopefully, too shitfaced to realize I wasn’t her husband.

She dropped the bottle to her side, finished swallowing, and said, “If you have any more vile comments about my day drinking just keep them to…” She trailed off, and blinked at me. “What the fuck did you do? You look…”

Grimacing, she pulled her head back and said, “John?”

I smiled and said, “New hairstyle. You like it?”

She shook her head, blinking and looked at me again, slowly walking closer.

As she studied me she began to smile. “Holy fuck!” She said. Reaching out, she rubbed my shoulder, slid her hand down and squeezed my arm. “You look just like him. Even your teeth. I mean you’re taller, and a bit hunkier, but, Jesus Christ!”

“So, you’re not upset?”

She blinked and shook her head. “Upset about what?”

“Can I get a swig off that bottle?”

Jane chuckled wickedly, covering her mouth with her free hand. She handed me the bottle, watching me in giddy delight as I took a nice long drink.

“John would never do that,” she said, a gleeful look on her face.

It was the smoothest whiskey I had ever tasted. I dropped it down, admiring the bottle and blew out a breath. “Whew!,” I said, “That’s the good stuff.”

She nodded, still grinning broadly, and taking the bottle back. “Oh, yes it is,” she said. Then she giggled, took a sip, and added, “John doesn’t drink anymore. The stick up his ass is so long it blocks his throat.”

We both laughed at that and I took the bottle back, taking another sip.

“So,” Jane said, “Who the fuck are you?”

I shrugged and smiled back at her bewitching smile. “My name’s Harry… Harrison Hofeeder, from Rhode Island, but I’m just a random guy. Your husband’s chauffeur spotted me and he mistakenly picked me up at the airport thinking I was John.”

“Dumb bastard,” she said, snatching the bottle back. She giggled. “Well, he’s fucking fired.”

She took a long swig, her eyes studying my body as she drank.

Pulling the bottle away, Jane pursed her pretty lips as she swallowed, and stared directly at my crotch. She raised an eyebrow, looked up at me and said, “Hmm, you’re packing quite a whopper there. May I see it?”

“Sure,” I said, smirking, “If you have the balls to pull it out yourself.”

Looking somewhat surprised and amused, Jane harrumphed and shot me an, “Oh really?” expression.

“Here,” I said, snatching the bottle back from her. “Let me hold that for you. You’ll need two hands.”

I spread my feet aside, put an arm behind my back and thrust my hips out. Then watched her as I took a long sip from her bottle.

Jane shrugged, dropped to her knees, and, with her tongue sticking out like a toddler as she focused her efforts, she unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans.

She smiled up at me as she slowly pulled my pants and boxers down.

My hardening cock popped out like a Jack-in-the-box. Jane squealed, jerked her head back, and fell on her ass, laughing. Her eyes wide and still fixated on my cock, she continued laughing as she said, “You are definitely not my husband!”

I laughed at her drunken silliness, and took another sip.

Our laughter faded away, replaced by silence as I admired her and she admired my cock.

“Do you want to touch it?” I asked.

She smirked, gave me a slow nod, but let out a sigh, and said, “I most certainly do, but I can’t.” Looking up at me with a pouty expression, she said, “Alas, I am a very married woman.”

“So… what if you mistook me for him? What if, like everyone else, like his chauffer and his two goons outside in the hallway, you didn’t know I was an imposter?”

“But I do know.”

“Yes, but nobody else ever has to know you knew. That’s my point.”

She sat up and folded her legs Indian style. “But your penis is nearly double the size of his. Of course, I would know you weren’t–“

“Again,” I said, smiling, “Nobody else ever has to know that.”

“Hmm,” she said, nodding, “You do have a point.” She reached up and flexed her fingers for her bottle, and I stepped forward, handing it to her.

She took a sip, swallowed, and seemed deep in wondered. Glancing up at me, she asked, “Do you eat pussy?”

“Ravenously.”

Her eyes widened, and she took another quick belt.

“John refuses to eat pussy. He says it’s a filthy act.”

“What a fucking dope. How long has it been?”

“Don’t fucking remind me. I’ll fuck you just out of spite.”

“In that case, how long has it been since somebody really enjoyed eating that neglected pussy of yours?” I grinned playfully. “Three years? Four maybe?”

“Jesus Christ! Stop it.” She shook her head and frowned. “You do make some very compelling arguments… err, what did you say your name was, Harry?”

“No. I’m John, John Doe, your fucking husband. That’s all you or anyone else ever needs to know.” I shrugged and smiled. “That, and how I ditched my flight so I could come back here and eat the living fuck out of my gorgeous wife’s pussy.”

Jane nodded, and with a sudden look of resolve on her face, put her bottle of whiskey apart on the floor. She stood up, pulled her boxers down and stepped out of them.

Her shock of curly reddish blonde pubes mismatched her light blonde, dyed hair, but it looked delightful against her pale, alabaster skin.

“What are you waiting for, John? Get the fuck out of those clothes.” She turned, strode away toward the bedroom, pulling her tank top off as she walked. “Get that tongue of yours in here. It’s got a lot of work to do… and bring that big cock, too.”

The mere sight of Jane’s slender frame and her perfect little ass walking toward a bed caused my cock to go fully erect.

“I don’t go anywhere without it,” I said, quickly pulling off my clothes.

I followed Jane Doe into her bedroom, stripping as I went. I tossed my final garment, my T-shirt, on the floor at the foot of her bed.

I stood there naked, and gawking, drinking in the sight of Jane Doe, completely naked and laying back on a bank of pillows.

She had her slender legs spread wide and was stretching her labia open with both hands. The sight of her displaying her pussy so brazenly took my breath away.

“You just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open?” She said. “Or are you going to eat this goddamned pussy?”

The moments that followed her taunt are a blur, but the thrill I felt as my tongue penetrated her tiny, luscious hole is one of my most vivid memories.

She let out a loud gasp, and I would have, too, if I wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to stick my tongue as deep as I could in her vagina.

Immediately pulling my mouth away, I spit on it, and gave it several long, slow dog laps, from taint to clit, slobbering all over her already soaked pussy.

Throwing in a couple longer licks, from her asshole to her belly button, I then, finally, zeroed in on her main attraction.

I softly tongued around her clitoris, and then batted it around with the tip a few times just for good measure.

Jane grabbed me by my hair with both hands, thrust her hips and tried pushing her pussy into my tongue, but I resisted, not wanting to apply too much pressure too soon.

“Eat me!” she shouted. “Eat that filthy pussy.”

Slurping her clit into my mouth, I, ever so softly, speed bagged it with my tongue, and then slipped down to penetrate her hole again.

I fucked her with my tongue, and she cried out, “Yes! Thank you! That’s what I want, Baby!”

It was time to attack her clit. I went for it, licking with moderate pressure and loving strokes. Up, down, left, right, and circling around it.

Jane pulled my hair, and gyrated her hips, demanding more pressure. I replied with one long, hard dog lap, and then sucked her whole clit and labia inside. All her luscious cunt meat filled my mouth, and I suckled and tongued it with relish.

It was fucking delicious.

Then, just using my tongue, I crushed her engorged clit hard into her pubic bone, licking it as hard and fast as I could, using my wagging head and fluttering jaw to assist.

Jane’s hands ripped at my hair and her hips bounced faster, like she was trying to serve that hot pussy to me for dinner.

“Holy fuck!” She shouted. “Right there! That’s it!”

Pressing my tongue even harder against her clit, I met her forward thrusting hips with a firm tongue. My neck felt like it might snap, and my bottom teeth cut into the back of my tongue, but I made certain her clit had a soft thick tongue to slam against.

She began panting and groaning, apparently about to orgasm.

I pulled off with all my might, and she whined in disappointment.

“What… the fuck… are you doing?” She cried, sounding extremely annoyed. “I was just about to cum.”

“Fuck that,” I said, climbing up to her, my face in front of hers. I said, “Kiss me, first.”

She did. Our tongues met and my eyes rolled back in my head as we made out, gently sucking and sampling each others mouths for the first time.

Chemistry. Fireworks. Call it what you will. There is an animal attraction between lovers, a natural response that is physical and mental, and probably even spiritual, if you believe in such a thing.

You can usually only tell if you distribute that intimate fire with someone when you kiss them.

Well, whatever it is, we had it. Neither of us wanted to stop kissing after we started.

I broke it off, and we both gasped for air.

“Holy shit!” I said.

She nodded, “Yes,” she said, “I agree.”

“Now… It’s time to do… what I came here to do, Jane.”

We both looked down as I guided the head of my raging hard cock to her pussy.

“Oh shit!” She said, her eyes widening at the sight. Urgently, she added, “The condoms are in the night table. Grab a condom.”

I frowned and shook my head. “No fucking way. I came here to fuck Jane Doe, not a piece of rubber.”

“But… but we always use condoms…”

“You use condoms when you fuck your husband?” I laughed.

“Of course,” she said. “We’re not animals.”

“Yes we are,” I said, snarling and staring in her eyes as I pushed the tip of my cock into her warm, wet pussy.

“Stop!’ She said, nearly hysterical.

I stopped, the head of my cock just on the threshold of entering her.

“Just get a fucking condom. I’m serious.”

“So am I,” I said. “I don’t have any diseases, and I don’t really care if you do. Now, we are gonna fuck like we’re meant to fuck or not at all.”

Jane blinked. In a condescending voice, she said, “Like a couple of filthy fucking animals?”

“Yes,” I smiled and nodded. “Just like a couple of filthy fucking animals.”

She let out a nervous chuckle, shaking her head, a worried look on her face. “Are you gonna ejaculate inside me?”

“Yes.”

“And what if I get pregnant?”

“It will probably look like your husband.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” I said, thrusting my cock into her.

Jane’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth in an “O” of surprise, as my thick cock slid deep into her tight pussy.

I lunged forward and kissed her, as my cock plunged deep. She kissed back, her eyes still wide, and then she moaned as we kissed. Her eyelids drooped, and I saw only the whites as she relaxed, melted into our kiss and took the full length of my cock inside her.

I began slowly pumping her, and she continued to moan as we kissed.

Pulling my mouth off so we both could gasp for air, I continued sliding in and out of her tight and silky wet warmth.

“How’s that feel?” I whispered as I fucked her.

“Glorious,” she said between pants.

“Better than fucking rubber?” I asked, thrusting a little harder.

“Fuck yes,” she said, putting her hands on my ass and pulling me into her as I pumped.

“You like getting fucked like a filthy animal?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to cum deep inside you?”