Doppelganger

I once fucked Britney Spears.

OK, it was actually a Britney doppelganger. I was in Chicago during a frigid January for a churchwide convocation. The desire to sample some local talent impressed itself upon me late one evening, so I browsed escort sites on my laptop. One particular lady seemed promising, and I made contact and quickly set up an appointment. Her face was obscured on her ad; I wasn’t sure what to expect. I prepared for her arrival and waited.

When she arrived, I opened the door and….

She looked like she was Britney Spears.

Some history: I entered puberty when Britney was at her Lolita-esque prime, suggestively writhing on stage with a python between her legs. Her naughty schoolgirl performance mesmerized me and probably triggered a fetish. As Kevin Smith put it at the time, “People are into Britney Spears because they want to fuck Britney Spears.”

I tried to take those thoughts captive. But I wanted to fuck Britney Spears.

Now several years later, a more mature version of my pubescent wet dream stood before me. I must have looked pretty harmless in my gray sweater because she didn’t bother to check my ID.

I had fantasized that Britney was a little freak in the sheets. I eagerly anticipated what her double would do. We undressed and got on the bed and….

She just laid there.

Talk about a letdown. We briefly conversed afterwards, then she put on her clothes and left.

So much for my fantasies.