Date: Mon, 16 Dec 2002 15:10:17 EST From: Kpg111061@aol.com Subject: Tim McGraw -- Preppy Redneck This story is not intended to be read by minors. If you are, please do not read, and close this window. This story is the property of the author. It cannot be duplicated in any way without the author's permission. Get real people this is fiction, made up, not trashy tabloid article material. This is in no way based on factual knowledge of the author. I wish though. If you happen to resemble the star(s), write me, LOL. Maybe you'll be the cast in my next story... Tim McGraw -- Preppy Redneck **NOTE to readers** this star is one of country's hottest performers today. I do not by writing this story, claim to know this star (I WISH) nor have any personal knowledge (AGAIN I WISH) of his personal inclinations. This and all my stories are just a fantasy. Write me guys, KPG111061@aol.com, under gay/celebrities; some comic book fantasies about the Human Torch, Toby Keith and TK & Kenny Chesney; under encounters and beginnings some of my "redneck" stories. Well, unemployment has its perks, I guess. There in one of the alternative rag magazines was an ad for the perfect temporary job; Administrative assistant, Executive level, superb computer skills, business experience and must have current valid passport. I sent my resume and my letters of reference to the e-mail address in the ad, TM1@tm.com, not knowing what would happen or what company the ad was for. A week later, I get a call saying that they have received my e-mail and would like to interview me the next week in Orlando, can I make it. I set up the interview and get my directions. The interview day arrives. I drive out from Tampa to Orlando for my interview. I was told the previous week that the position was for a personal assistant for someone that would be traveling to England. I would be interviewed and evaluated on computer skills, communication skills and appearance. I spent the entire week getting ready; practicing on my laptop, sitting in facials, getting my crew cut trimmed, buying a new suit and even spending a small fortune on a special massage (all body) that was supposed to firm the flab and lessen the years. I arrive at the hotel out near the airport and surprisingly only find about 10 people for the interview. I sign in and wait my turn. I can't help but notice that everyone waiting is about 30 - 40 years old, very well-groomed and hot, both the guys and the girls. Well, last signed in, last interviewed. I did notice that the girls were dismissed after each interview. From the 4 guys before me, only 2 were asked to wait. My turn, I go in and there are 2 people sitting there; a really beautiful blonde lady and an attractive dark-haired man. Now she's dressed very casual, jeans, silk blouse, etc. He's too fine, dark pull over ribbed shirt, dark dress pants and really nice black shoes. They have an entire entourage around them. The woman stands up and says hi, thanks for driving in from Tampa. My name is Faith and this is my husband Tim. That's when it kicks in and I kind of stutter hello while collapsing in to chair behind me. Like someone with brain damage, I stutter again, you, you, you're Faith Hill and you're Tim McGraw. Tim chuckles and says yeah we know. I turn red, while Faith says to Tim, be nice. She says sorry that we couldn't prepare everyone before the interview, but we didn't want a mob to show. Now, the reason you are here is for the interview of an Executive Administrative Assistant. Tim is going to England to film a new video and his assistant is out on leave to get married and for his honeymoon. I look over at Tim and notice that this story seems to have pissed him off or upset him for some reason. Faith says we are trying to replace Tim's assistant for the duration of the filming and the trip, about 2 months. After a lot of questions about skills, knowledge and even family, they ask me to wait outside with the other 2 candidates. After about 15 minutes, they call all 3 of us back in. Faith begins asking questions about Tim's music; like what were some of his albums, some of his singles and background information that only a fan would know. The other two knew none of it. Thank God, I not only love his looks, but his music to the fanatical extreme. I mean I even have him as my Windows XP desktop theme on my laptop. They ask us to go outside and wait again. After about another 15 minutes, some stranger comes out and says you two can go, then turns to me and says you they want to see again. I get up and walk in, knees shaking. Faith says listen, here is a list or a job description for you to follow. I'm meeting up with you guys the last two weeks of shooting. Until then, it's up to you to be the hired baby sitter and secretary. Faith is laughing while Tim is grumbling to himself that he doesn't need a baby sitter, sitting there pouting. Oh my God, you should see this pout. We leave a week later for England. In London, I check us into our 3 bedroom suite. One bedroom is for Tim, one for me and later one for the kids when they arrive with Faith. Filming doesn't start for 3 days. Jet lag kicks in and both of us decide to unpack and rest before dinner. Tim asks that I wake him up around 6pm local time. I unpack and change into a t-shirt and jeans. Then I lay down for a nap. God as I wake up, do I realize that I needed that. Oh shit, it's about 6:15. I knock on Tim's door. Nothing. I knock again. Nothing. It's an adjoining door, so I try the knob, it opens. There stretched out on his bed, is one of the hottest men ever. He's laying there in a wife beater, jeans, no shoes, no socks, arms up over his head, cross tattoo on his left bicep to the air. I stand there watching for a few minutes, then realize that I could be fired or arrested for this, so I lean over and tap on his chest. Nothing, shit what a sound sleeper. Again, I try. This time Tim moans a little and I can't help but notice that there is a huge distinctive bulge behind the zipper of his jeans. This time, I really shake him and he slowly wakes up; stretching and yawning like a giant, hot, erotic cat creature; rubbing his crotch while he's waking up. I quickly apologize and tell him that I tried knocking but he wouldn't wake up. Tim tells me that he's sorry and that he should have told me that he's a sound sleeper. Basically shaking him is the only way to wake him; well that and other ways, he laughs as he says this to me, then quickly jumps out of bed, excusing himself to go wash his face. Tim, says why don't you dress casually and after we scope out the studio, we'll go get a bite to eat. About 30 minutes later, there's a knock on my door. I open it. There he stands, black sweater, black pants looking hot. I am dressed in wool pants and a t-shirt. He says nice outfit, I tell him you too. We walk to the studio, do a sound check, meet all the people and Tim tells them, see you all bright and early tomorrow. Then putting a hand on my shoulder he says, let's go do dinner. We walk around for a while enjoying the sights. Then Tim notices a pub right across from the hotel. We go in and they have food as well as drinks. We decide to have a few ales first, then dinner. After our 3rd or 4th ale, I tell Tim, we need to eat, or I'll be sleeping here. Laughing, he says yeah me too, jet lag and all. We order light and have a few more ales while waiting. The food arrives, it smells awesome. While eating, a musician comes out and plays some folk songs. Tim is singing along and the owner asks if he will sing a song for the crowd. Tim gives in to the demands and sings a couple of folk songs. The owner gives a few more ales as a reward. I tell Tim that I think we need to call it quits. He agrees. We thank everyone and walk back to the hotel. Once at our room, I tell Tim that I will wake him early not to lock his door. In the middle of the night, I hear yelling. I rush into Tim's room; he's thrashing on the bed screaming. I grab hold of him, but he's crying and screaming, while I'm shaking him. Nothing, he won't wake up. Finally, no choice, I slap him. He wakes slowly. Coming out of it, he asks me what happened. What's going on? I tell him and he turns red, apologizing. I ask him does he need anything. He says no. I tell him to go back to sleep and that I will listen for any problems. Tim stops me and says please don't leave yet. I can't ever go back to sleep after one of my nightmares. He says please, I know it's childish, but just stay and talk for a few minutes. I sit down on the edge of the bed. He slides over and says here, more room. I slide over some more. We talk for a while. We talk about Florida, England, Faith, their kids, his music, etc. I start to nod off first. I catch myself falling over. He apologizes and tells me to stretch out while we talk, so I do. Lying there side by side, we both keep talking until I guess we both fall a sleep. I wake some hours later on my side facing him, opening my eyes to find him on his side facing me. His eyes open slowly. Neither of us moves. With no warning, he leans forward and kisses me and says thank you for staying with me. I tell him don't worry, I'm here to help. Then he kisses me again. I'm confused I stutter, turning red. He chuckles while running his hand down my face to my chest. He tells me that Faith always hires guys for the job so as to keep him from straying. She knows he's bi, but doesn't consider that cheating. She was worried about replacing Mark the last assistant in time for the trip. They were both glad to have found me. Tim says during the interview he has to act a little pissed off, or the entourage gets suspicious; plus it's good for the wife's ego to think that it upsets him to deal with a new assistant. I take my hand and stroke it on his goatee and his lips; telling him that I can't believe that I am in England, in England with him and then again with him period. He leans forward and kisses me again. Looking at the clock, he says we have a few hours to kill, how about we get to know each other better. At this point, he sits up, stretching, he pulls off his wife beater, leaving nothing but his bikinis. He then leans over and slides off my t-shirt and my briefs. He slides on top of me, licking my nipples and running his tongue down my stomach to my hard, hard, oh God, hard dick. He has a leather wrist band that he takes off and puts around my dick, wrapping it twice to make it into a cock ring. He says, there, God I love the look and smell of leather on a hot man. I reach out and slide his bikinis off, finding the beauty that almost every gay man and straight woman wants. It's about 8x5, cut, with balls like peaches. He's already wearing a cock ring. Tim tells me that he loves the feel, even when he's not hard. The man has an ass like two cannon balls, rounded and firm as shit. You could bounce a quarter off them. After some heavy foreplay, we end up in a sweaty, 69, with that man's goatee and mustache pressed into my balls, licking his way into my crack. God, I'm so ticklish I can't stand it. I do the same to him so that if I start laughing, he won't get mad. All of a sudden he starts laughing. I pull out and ask what's wrong. He says, sorry, I'm ticklish and your goatee was rubbing me right, I guess. I laughed and told him so was I and was worried about making him mad by laughing. He quickly works his way down to my hard, throbbing, begging to cum, dick and slides it into the most sexy mouth ever; then pulls up to my face to kiss me, smelling like me and him both. He says in a deep guttural groan, I need to cum. I tell him so do I. It's only our second day, you can see the thoughts flashing instantly, and we both start jacking the other off. In minutes, he starts grunting and moaning that he's cumming and then a wash of cum everywhere. Same time, I blow my load all over his hand and us. We both chuckle and say "jet lag" at the same time. We cuddle for a while, then get up and take a quick shower together. I go back to my room to get dressed, while he dresses in his room. I come back in about 30 minutes to find him in another black turtle neck and black dress pants. My outfit is a black sweater and wool pants. I ask him why the same outfit. He says to me, well it was lucky for me the first time and you. The same I tell him. We both laugh again. I tell him that I'm going to nickname him the preppy redneck. I tell him that we need to run or he'll be late. As I head for the door, he stops me, turns me around and says until Faith shows up in a month, you know the only way to stop the nightmares is to have someone sleep with me. I ask him should I hire someone. He says no, I already did, and then kisses me good morning.