Sandra gets into Character

BY : BookerD
Category: Celebrities - Misc > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 1596
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Fandom, nor do I know Sandra Bullock, nor do I make any money off this. It's fiction and all just for fun. Maybe in another life.

I serve beer at a shithole pub in the back end of the Lake District. At least, we call it the Lake District in the UK. Americans who come here often marvel at the tinyness of our lakes, the sheer, cute darlingness of their size. The sweetness of our shops and towns. The quaintness of our turns of phrase and the oddities of our heritage. They come here expecting vast inland seas and end up pedaloing across what they see as green brushed ponds.  
    When American punter comes into my work and gives us that sort of shit, they're usually frozen out aggressively sworn near until they leave. We're not a tourist establishment. High up on the valley instep, the clientel are mainly locals, men working on the lake, hospitality people, the poor assholes that work on the campsites. We're usually too off the beaten path for a tourist to find their way anywhere near us. But when they do, they're sat at sticky wooden table in the corner where the warm lager flows and the food comes out cold, and they're on their way out the door with an uncertaon "have a great day!" before they can fuck up anyone's good mood. 
      There was no-one's good mood to fuck up that day, luckily. It was early afternoon on a Tuesday and the pub was dead as it always was when the tourist season was up. While the bars in town hosted families covered in ice cream and noise, I sat in the dark up the slope of the hill, reading behind the bar and occasionally cutting up limes no-one was going to have in their drink. 
       Like I said, it was dark inside, like any self respecting pub is in daytime. For once it was relatively clean, we'd had no-one in for lunch again and although a lazy piece of work, I don't like reading in filth. It was hot out, dust hung in the air as sunlight reflected off the tables and dissapated into the oak interior. From the kitchen, the radio could just about still be heard, fuzzed and echoing around the metal surfaces. One of the chefs must've left it on. Pop music just made the place seem lonelier. Most people today were down in town trying to catch a glimpse of the filming being done on the lake. Some Romantic Comedy was being shot on one of the quays just out of town and it was all anyone had talked about in the pub the night before. No-one seemed to be quite sure who was in it, but the general consensus seemed to be that Sandra Bullock had something to do with it. Directing, or producing, or she had been in the prequel or something. And the only reason I remembered that is that Glen, the red faced alcoholic that every pub has, had given a loud and vivid description of what he wanted to do to her for the pub to hear. At the climax of "filling up that tight little arse," most had bellowed laughing, with a few disgusted looking exceptions. 
        I had just got up from the table to turn the radio off when the door clicked open then immediately slammed shut again. This was happening all the time, the door was a huge oak thing with several huge iron locks nailed into the wood. It must've weighed twice as much as me, and most who weren't used to it were beaten by its weight at first try. It opened again, slower this time, but purposefully. Through it came a diminutive looking woman, dark hair waving chaotically around her head in a messy bun. The door slammed behind her and she sighed from the effoet. She was hugging a brown coat around her shoulders, despite the sweltering day, and was shaking her head and blowing air through her lips. This wasn't so unusual, the pub being up a hill and all. 
     I had pegged her as a librarian from town or something, so I was surprised when he voice came forth with an unmistakeable American twang. 
      "You'd think these fuckin' assholes wouldn't make it so hard to get in!" She, snapped and kicked the door with a black sneaker. 
      "Yeah, sorry, it's always like that. I think they built the door to withstand Vikings...or something."
      She finally seemed to notice me, brown eyes peeking out from under a shock of brown hair, just starting to fleck with white. I finally recognised her at that point. It was Sandra Bullock. She had aged from the last time I'd seen her on film, or maybe it was just what film stars looked like in real life. Her hard jaw was unmistakeable, the gently clefted chin and slightly upturned nose. Her face wore more lines now, the skin sagged a little under that square jaw and the skin under her nose was unnaturally smooth. The lips were still full though, lightly glossed, the bottom plumply protruding under the top. She bit it softly in thought. 
       "So where the fuck do you get a drink? Do you think I just take a seat or what?" 
       I collected myself, suddenly aware that I had been staring, stepping quickly behind the bar with an embarrassed smile. 
        "Sorry, what can I get you?" 
        "Oh!" She paused, double taking slightly. Clearly she'd mistaken me for a customer. "Gin and Tonic please? Double?" She ducked under a beam and sat down at the large corner table, under a mounted deer. She was taller than I'd thought at first, 5'7 or 8. The brown of her long coat only just came down to her calves and as I poured her drink I flicked my eyes up occasionally to see her taught lower leg disappearing up into darkness. Her dress was strange, I realised. Trainers, long coat but something with a short skirt underneath? I figured she was still in costume or something. 
         I placed her drink down in front of her with a napkin underneath, like I'd seen on TV. 
         "Thanks." She said, not looking up from her phone and waving a twenty dollar bill in the air with two fingers. 
         It just so happened that she'd sat at the table I had been reading at, so I plucked the dollars out of her hand and picked it up to go back to my uncomfortable stool at the bar. 
        Again, she seemed to wake up from herself and notice me. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you sitting here?" Again, her piercing American snap deadened strangely in the room, seeming too loud for it somehow. She shifted along the seat and patted. "Why don't you get yourself a drink with that and you can sit with me."
        "Oh, I shouldn't really..." 
        "Oh shut the fuck up, I'm not drinking alone. What's your name?" She beamed up at me, clearly happy to have someone who had at least pretended not to know her. 
        "I'm Nick," I proffered a hand, "but if I'm gonna drink out of this I'm gonna need some English fuckin' money."
         She looked at the bill and put her hand over her mouth and laughed embarrassedly. "Oh shit! I'm sorry! Wait a minute." She dug around in a leather clutch for minute before unfurling a giant on hundred pound bill from a tiny white purse. She waved it under my face and grinned. "Another one of these! And one for yourself champ." She shook a tinkling glass that she'd already finished. It seemed a little late to tell her that we do 35ml shots and she was actually drinking triples. I poured her another and settled down at the table with an ale and my book.

We sat like that for about an hour. A book had emerged from her coat at some point too and we sat under the imitation bulb candles and read, her pounding a double for every pint of mine. I had resisted the urge to stare at her pretty well up until this point, but it was becoming increasingly clear that she was getting completely steaming. Her eyes glazed over every now and then and her gaze drifted over to the tiny frosted window on the far side of the pub. She barely looked at me, of course. A little while before this, I'd made up a small fire in the grate, it was the only thing that gave some life to the place. 
        Sandra had begun to squirm in her seat and after a moment exploded. 
       "Ok! Ok, ok, ok. I need to take this fucking coat off!" And she sat biting her perfect plump lip for a moment, unmoving.
       "That's...fine?" I volunteered. "Oh, can I...take your coat?" 
       "Ok, I just need to explain first." I'm Sand...I'm an actor, ok? And..."
       "I know who you are."
       This took her by surprise a bit. 
       "You do? Oh. You didn't say."
       "Was I supposed to?"
        She laughed, "No, of course not, it's just people usually...never mind. So anyway, i've just been shooting a scene and they had a big fuck up with lighting and I got a little time. I came up the hill to grab little drink." At this she tinkled the ice in the fifth G and T in the air and chinked my glass with a slight wobble. "I wasn't expecting to be long though, so... I'm in my costume. Ok? And you can't jerk me off about it or you're an asshole. Agreed?" 
        She sounded assertive, serious, a bit of a ballbuster, and for the first time that day I felt a stirring. 
        "Fine." I had to suppress a smirk at her uncomfortableness. She had come into the place with a bit of an arrogant Hollywood energy and it was amusing to see her on the back foot. She pursed her lips, wrinkling her chin but leaving her upper face still perfectly smooth. 
         She stood up above me, midriff just a few inches from my face and slid the coat off one shoulders then the other, throwing the heavy thing onto the seat. She spread her arms wide to let me take her in. She was wearing a tiny, short skirted porn ass version of a Hermione Granger costume. Tiny shirt and blouse hugging a taught figure, skirt just barely covering her ass, and a loose tie jauntily draped down her right breast. The knee high socks had clearly been flattened into the trainers but now she pulled them up to her thigh to own the look. 
       I burst out laughing and pinched my eyes in disbelief. "What the fuck!?" 
       "Laugh it up dick head, it was for a dream sequence." With that she grabbed a fistful of hair in each hand and pulled them into makeshift pigtails for a moment and went dead eyed like a sex doll before bursting out laughing herself.
       "I bet is was." I took it in again and nodded appreciatively. Her full breasts were pulled together by the tiny blazer and you could just make out pointed nipples through the white shirt."Very nice. Not too warm now I take it?" She flicked a hot pink nailed middle finger at me and stalked off to the bathroom, letting her hair fall around her shoulders, free once more. 
        I got up from the table and gathered the glasses. I had pounded a few by now and was feeling it a little myself. I carried them over to the bar and loaded the dishwasher, all the time trying to shake the image of Sandra Bullock, squatting in the ladies, pissing dressed as a slutty Hermione. 
      I almost collided with her as she emerged from the bathroom, pulling down her blouse so it covered at least the most important sections of her torso. She jumped and laughed.
      "Holy Fuck Nick! Coming to join me were ya?" 
      I looked at her seriously for a moment. "I'd thought about it, decided Hermione was probably too much for a good girl for toilet sex." 
      She seemed to make a decision and stepped towards me, flicking the tie around and under my chin. "Oh yeah? And what about Sandra?"
She was close enough to smell now, tang of gin and lime and a waft of perfume. It was subtle, but she's made up a little in the bathroom. Her lips were now a slightly shinier pink and her eyes were ringed with a subtle dusky shadow. 
      I stepped gently to her and looked her up and down. "I've gotta say, you do look just a little bit like a whore. No offense." I smirked. 
      "None taken." She reached over and pushed her fingers through my hair, leaning and lifting her face to mine. Her lips were soft and slick with the newly applied gloss. She tasted of gin and a little bit of cherries. Our lips lightly brushed and she let out a gentle moan and bit her lip. "Mmm, I love that accent. Call me a whore again." Her eyes were closed and her fingers still caressed my head. I leaned in, brushing the dark hair away so I could whisper in her ear. "Are you a dirty whore Sandra? What would Hermione say?" 
       She let out another low moan and kissed me again. Deeper this time, and I felt her tongue slip into my mouth. I returned it more forcefully and felt her body soften as be tongued each other's mouths. I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her closer in to me. Her fingers were still running through my hair, twisting and pulling tight. I pushed her back, roughly, against a beam and continued to kiss her deeply, her perfume so strong now it was intoxicating. I let my other hand run down her back, pushing the tiny skirt against her tight ass before running it underneath to cup her asscheek and lift her up slightly against the support. She groaned at this as well, opening her mouth wider, her hands slipping down from my hair to start scrabbling with the buckle on my belt.
       "Does that Viking door lock Nicky?"
       "Uh huh." I ran over and slammed the giant bar lock on the door shut and came back. She was lying on the big oak table now, tiny little grey skirt riding up around her waist, hair falling down behind her and spreading Cross the wood. I moved in between he ripen legs and leant down to kiss her again, her head and dimpled chin pointed up to mine. She pulled at my belt and jeans, more successfully this time, pulling them down around my thighs. My cock emerged, hard as a rock into her long slender fingers. As my tongue explored her mouth she worked up and down my shaft, gradually gripping harder, pulling me in closer. I pushed my hands into the open little blazer, pulling her tits put into my hands. They weren't enormous, just big enough to cup in your hand so each hard nipple poked into your palm. She moaned again, quickening the pace on my cock, leaning up and nibbling on my earlobe. 
        "Fuck me." Her hot breath on my ear drove my wild. I thrust my hand under the tiny skirt, pulling on a pair of black lace panties that tore under my grasp. Without a hesitation, I pulled her hand away from me and thrust myself inside her as hard as I could, my hips slapping hers and my thighs bruising on the table. She lay back and gasped, a tiny scream erupting from her mouth. She was slick and wet and ready, but my thrust had surprised her and I felt the slight contraction of her around my cock in her suprise. I could feel her hands on my back as I thrust in again and again. Reaching up behind her back, I wrapped my hand around her long hair and used it as leverage, pulling her head back as I fucked her harder and harder. We were both panting now, hot urgent sighs that fell dead in the low ceilinged room. As I thrust into her, deeper and deeper, I leant my head down and bit and sucked her neck. It wasn't as taught as it once had been and I could pull some of the skin back with my teeth as I nibbled on her. Her skin was already silky with sweat on my lips and every now and again she would sigh and moan "fuck me" through haggard breaths. Her long, supple legs had long since crossed around my ass and she was using them to push my 8 inch cock into her further. 
          Finally she managed to pull herself free from my hair handle and sits up on the table with me still inside her. From this height, she reaches down to kiss me. It's messy and sloppy and her tongue ends up on my lips as much as it does in my mouth. "So," she manages through gasps "you were gonna follow me into the bathroom, huh? You dirty little pig. Who were you hoping to find? Hermione or little Sandy?" A lot of the gloss had come off now but there were still little glints and shines of pink here or there. Here eyeshadow had remained smoky though, and she narrowed here eyes, licking her lips and gently squeezing my swollen cock with her cunt. 
           "Maybe a little both?" I said, not sure what she was looking for. I took in the woman who was growing older now, the lined neck and the slight hint of bowel around the perfect share jaw. A couple of single lines protruding from the eyes where crow's feet might've been before they were stretched straight. "I think I was gonna find slutty little Hermione and fuck her little whore mouth. Then Sandra Bullock was gonna come in and show me how to fuck a real woman." Hedge my bets, I thought. It seemed to work. Sandra gently pulled me out of her and jumped off the table, running to the bathroom. 
        I hitched my jeans up again, wiping myself clean on Sandra's coat. 
        As I get into the bathroom, she's spread eagles on the floor, knees splayed outwards and looking up at me, dark eyes wide in expectation. Her little upturned nose, clefted and glistening with sweat twitches a little as she grins up at me. She's a little deshevelled now, blouse popped open revealing perky tits, only just starting to sag with age, red from my pinching and grabbing. Her little grey skirt it still in place, just hitched up from where I'd been pounding her. The makeup around her mouth as askew, half of it must be around mine by now. She's quickly wrapped her hair up into two hasty pigtails erupting from her head. The torn Hogwarts crest is still just about visible on her pulled aside blazer.
      I try not to think about the bathroom, we haven't had any customers in today, so the floor should be mercifully free of piss and vomit, but she's playing her pussy down too close for liking just the same. The white tiles and porcelain is stained from decades of overuse and the whole room reeks slightly of disinfectant and the stale undertone of urine. 
       I walk over to her, grabbing the shaky stall door to her left with my hand. She looks up at me, expectantly, her pointed nose catching the bright fluorescent light, unnaturally smooth skin almost glowing, a little pink from exertion. She's clasping her hands behind her back, pushing her bosom and face forward, makeshift black pigtails poking up towards me from the top of her head, only now in the light I can see them flecked with a few greys at the roots. Cheekbones sharp with just the slightest sag of skin around cracked and half pink lips. I run my fingers playfully through the pigtails, Hermione never had them but who gives a fuck. I grab one with my left hand, and with my right, pull my cock through my fly, leaving the top button done up. There's a bright little bead of precum on the tip and it's still glistening wet from her cunt. I wipe the tip on her perfectly smooth cheek and she giggled like a schoolgirl, the good little actress. It smears a slight tear of precum there and she holds my gaze. With my right thumb I pull open that perfectly plump bottom lip and rest the tip there. The weight of it pulls her mouth open wide and I see her struggle to keep meeting my gaze. Her crow's feet stand out for a moment as she stretches her mouth open.
        Grabbing both pigtails simultaneously, in one fluid motion, I push myself into her mouth with my full length. She gags a little, making glottle 'Gruk' sounds at the back of her throat before opening it up and taking the last half inch inside. It's warm and wet and sweet, so I hold it there for a moment, feeling her struggle with the length of it and then settle down. I feel her lips twitching and wrapping around the base, tickling my balls and pubes with their thick wetness. 
        "There you are, good whore. Just a second more." She's holding her breath like a champ, arms still locked behind her back, face turning red. With a wobble, she falls back to rest on one of her hands. For a moment I worry that she wants me to stop. I'm about to withdraw when with the other hand she grabs my ass cheek and pulls me in so my cock stays down her throat. She's prostrate now, leaning back on one hand while I bear down with my weight in my cock, pushing ever further down her throat. I can see it bulging beneath the slight lines of turkey neck. I give it a few more seconds then pull it out, and with it comes a stream of saliva and thick mucus, making a long bubbling train from her pink lips to the tip of my bulging head. She gasps for air in long rasping breaths as the stream hits the white porcelain betweem her knees. I kneel down next to her, gently kissing her on the perfect plastic cheek. "Good girl! Now we've got you opened up, you wanna go for it properly?" She nods, still gasping and dribbling. 
       "Yes Albus. You really think I can get an A?" Her jet black eyebrows point upwards in concern. She's still in character. It catches me off guard a little but but I get on board quick, standing up and stepping out of my jeans. I lovingly wipe some of the gunk off her chin with the shaft of my cock and rap it playfully under her chin a few times, tipping her head up towards me with that perfect upturned nose. 
       "Oh yes Miss Granger, you really are doing rather well. Are you ready for your extra credit assignment?" I rest the tip of myself in between her cracked lips again and wait for consent. 
       And in a perfect crisp and nasal Home Counties English accent she says "Oh, yes sir!" But then follows up in a gravelly American whisper, as Sandra, "Yes daddy." 
      I push my cock head into her once more and take no prisoners. I grab onto her little fuck handles in my fists and her face as hard as I can. She opens her throat and welcomes me warmly. Her eyes are wide and she grabs my ass cheeks, pulling my into her throat. Wet slaps and the gulps of my cock hitting the back of her throat echoed around the dirty white walls. First, I braced her head against the wall of the cubicle, making her gag with every stroke. Saliva and dripping juices ran down her chin, slopping onto the floor with my strokes. Once I'd reached the peak of this position I'd pull her roughly by her hair into a new one, leaning her face over the toilet bowl so she could intermittently unload her full mouth into the water with a wet splash. By now she had pulled off the remnants of her top and the only thing left was the hitched up grey belt that had been a skirt. As I forced myself into her mouth she rubbed at her clit furiously, eyes rolling back into her head in ecstacy. Black tears dripped down the lines in her face and joined again in the perfect cleft of her chin. 
         I could feel it building inside me, I was ready to cover her in my cum. I pulled out just for a moment to take her in. She gasped gratefully for breath, taking the opportunity to spit some of her mouth juices down onto her already covered tits. I licked from her turkey neck up to her chin cleft, smoothing her skin and tasting her sweat. She grinned and wiped a bead of sweat or snot from her perky nose and looked down at the mess. "You wanna cum in me daddy?" In her gravelly American twang. I nodded, ready to cum anywhere for her. She opened her pink mouth wide, rimmed with black tears and sweat, and stuck out a long red tongue. Then, in that tinny cut glass English accent again, "show me how sir?" 
         I lay on the cold stone floor and pulled her face down onto my crotch. My balls and taint were chilled and cold from wet saliva and her warm mouth felt red hot by comparison. I almost immediately spasmed and unloaded jet after jet of hot cum into her mouth. She choked again slightly, her mouth and cheeks expanding while she sucked the final jets out of my shaft. As I lay there on the floor, she knelt beside me grinning as she swallowed a load. Clearly it was too big for one swallow though as the rest came dribbling out of her mouth and ran down her chin onto the floor. 
         And it was there and then, black tears, sweat, spit and jizz dripping down her 53 year old face, pigtails all but pulled out in my need to fuck her mouth. Panting, and grinning, the smell of sweat and disinfectant still hanging in the air, that Glen pushed through the bathroom door. 
        "Is anyone fucking serving then!?" His fat red faced mug poked round the door, followed by his hulking rounded frame. His flushed alcoholic face took in the scene on the bathroom floor and he muttered under his breath. "No fucking way."

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