My 3 Rockstar Bosses
Trent’s hunger was tangible, a throbbing beat in the air, making the environment vibrate. We stepped over lights and equipment, rushing in the direction the stadium assistant had showed us. As usual, a bunch of half-naked chicks rushed out towards the band, scurrying down the corridor like ants. The security guys did their jobs for once and kept them away.
“Can’t wait,” Trent growled, eyes intent. “Shit, it’s been so long.”
“Chill, man.” I bumped his shoulder and shoved him aside to get in front. “She's our assistant, not some random chick.”
“I don't mean it that way and you know it,” he growled back at me. “She’s special. That’s why I want her.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but was interrupted.
“Out of the way, fellas!” Mason shoved his way between us, stopping the spat before it even happened.
Like an Alpha Prime PR guru, he waved and pinched the asses of the screaming groupies waiting to ambush us. Girls cried after him. Even though he was pandering to the audience, he didn’t stop his pace until he got to the dressing room. Mason was a man on a mission. He only beat me and Trent to it by a couple of seconds, most likely in an effort to escape his duty as the band ass-grabber.
Elbowing and shoving at each other, the three of us busted into the dressing room.
Just like Trent wanted, Katy was already in there, spread out and waiting for us.
A growl rose from low in my chest and my pole went from half-hard to full club.
“Mason, Trent, Nick,” Katy whispered our names, one by one. Her pink tongue made a slow and dirty circle along her lips. “How was the show, gentlemen?”
“Who knows?” Trent rasped, eyes ravenous. “I’m more interested in The Katy Show.”
My cock was so hard it could crush rocks. It throbbed, hot and hungry, trying to fight its way out of my jeans and get to Katy’s sweet softness. A damp spot formed on my jeans, evidence of the desire.
Our sweet Katy lay spread out on the big round table in the center of the room.
This was the candy table. It was a place where rock bands before us lay out their cocaine and their heroin and other bullshit drugs. The table was meant for credit cards, hundred-dollar bills and other paraphernalia. We never engaged in such activities.
Katy is our heroin.
She had spread herself out like a mountain of the drugs that other men craved.
Her lush and thick body was nude, her titties juicy and enormous. As I looked her over, there was only a few words that my brain could piece together.
Nipples hard. Legs spread. Pussy wet.
She knew what she was doing to us. Yeah, we fucked a virgin, but our dicks must have turned her into the perfect Alpha Prime woman.
Hot honey drizzled from her softly pulsing folds. She held a microphone in one hand and held it up to her mouth like she was about to sing. An open-mouthed Katy was a welcome sight. With the other hand, she played with herself, dipping her fingers in and out of her hot snatch. The strokes were lazy, her movements slow and hypnotic. Again and again, she fucked her wet hole with two fingers.
It was mesmerizing.
She looked up to make sure we were watching. The three of us were, of course.
A wicked smile curled her red lips. “Mic check. Mic check.” She licked her lips again and looked steadily at each of us. “One, two, three.”
She stopped fucking herself. Still smiling, our luscious queen held her pussy lips wide open. Then she lowered the head of the mic to her cunt and teased her opening with it. Back and forth. The mic nuzzled between her thick pussy lips. Finally, Katy wiggled her hips like she was trying to stuff it inside of her.
Fuck.
My knees went weak, dick steadily dripped in my pants.
I wanted to jump into her cunt mouth-first, slurping that sweet snatch and biting her clit. My balls drew up tight enough to hurt. I grabbed the base of my cock tight and stepped back.
No point in going off like a geyser when I haven’t even touched her yet. Easy, tiger.
Watching her try to take that mic up her hole made my fuck-stick turn to granite. It was more than ready to plunge into all that sweetness that Katy had saved just for us.