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Eating that pussy.
Eating that ass.
But once we got our dicks inside?
Fuckin’ game over.4KateEverything changed in an instant. My legs trembled, partially from pleasure and partially from disbelief. Because I’d just been eaten into a stupor by three ravenous rock stars. They were the men that every woman in the world wanted. From America to China, screaming female fans threw themselves at the stars of Hard Fought.
I never thought my first time a man would be with music gods, let alone sex symbols like Gunner, Brody, and Hudson.
Oh God! It really happened!
In my hotel room, I stumbled onto the bed and dropped down into the soft sheets. Flashes of what happened on the plane came back to me. Hudson’s giant cock bobbing over my mouth, dripping jism onto my tongue. The feel of Gunner’s appendage in my ass. Brody’s wicked mouth on my clit that gave me my very first man-induced orgasm.
It was amazing. It was incredible. It was every girl’s wet dream.
And after fucking me with their mouths for most of the flight, Hard Fought got off the plane like it wasn’t even a big deal. They patted my ass and covered me up with the blanket. Then, after Brody and Hudson left, Gunner kissed my cheek and told me to take my time getting ready for the arena.
Holy cow.
Did that really happen?
The temptation to laze around was there, but I had a job to do. This gig was important, and the faster it got done, the better. After a quick shower to wash my sticky skin, I finished the quick tasks that the band needed and wandered to the hotel.
It was an incredible outfit. Rated five-stars, The Greenhouse was truly an experience worthy of three rock gods. If I wasn’t still basking in the glory of the airplane experience, perhaps it’s grandeur would have been more impressive.
They ate me out. Nobody has ever put their mouth down there before. My first time was with three sex gods!
Because I’d been pleasured by not just Brody, the front-man who everybody wanted, but by the entire band. Gunner, Hudson, Brody—all of them. For some reason, they wanted me. It was crazy, truly the lifestyle that my mother once had. One that had seemed unattainable until now.
Frankly, the whole scenario still seemed so impossible.
Did I really just let three men lick my pussy? Not one, but three?
My trembling legs and tight stomach muscles—strained from coming so many times and for so long—told me it was true.
It felt so good.
Shivering, I rolled over on the hotel bed. It wasn’t right. Good girls didn’t do such things. They did things like kiss and date for years before letting a man touch them down there.
But then my mom’s words rang in my head once more.
“Nothing nice ever happens to good girls. Remember that, my Kate.”
Oh god. Ethel had told me that before I left for Detroit. And me? I’d been so immature.
“Gross,” had been my halfhearted reply.
But Ethel was insistent.
“You have to explore. Live a little sweetheart. You have the opportunity!”
Hopefully, Ma would be proud now. I was finally living the life of a fully-fledged woman, every cell alive, every sense attuned to the wonders of the world.
Because my body felt different for sure. Sitting up, my cunt tingled, achy yet sizzling with the memories of Hard Fought.
Pressing my thighs together, my pussy throbbed again. Juices dripped down into the crack of my ass, pooling in the sticky crevice of my butt. And as I stared at the fancy hotel ceiling, I remembered every lick, every bite, and every drop of pre-cum that coated my lips from Hudson’s naked cock.
His cock was massive—maybe even too massive. The dicks I saw in porn weren’t that huge.
Ten inches at least. A giant Whitezilla.
Are all the guys in the band that big? Will I get to find out?
Because I wanted it for sure. Not only was I hoping to impress them with my professional assistance, but I also wanted to sample more come straight from the source. Serving Hard Fought sexually was even more appealing than presenting them with water bottles. The potential sent my brain on an embarrassing journey.
Because Ethel was right. I needed to learn.
When all of my friends were having sex with their boyfriends, I was at home studying or watching movies with my parents. Sometimes, my mother would give me glances of disapproval, asking me things like, “Friday night and you’re here again?”
My answer was always a simple, “Yes.”
A couple of pimply, gross guys from high school had tried to to touch my boobs and even finger me. The few dates that I had been on consisted of disgusting teenage boys with raging acne acting like they were gods.
And the one who came the closest to actually doing something was my ex, Darren. But nothing happened, not really. I couldn’t muster the energy. Every time he started breathing on me with that bad breath of his, I hesitated. The seeping pimples on his neck were gross, and when I looked at his skin, it all just became too much. Darren was always let down, and would hurry home in a huff. As guilty as it made me feel, I simply could never go through with it.
