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Douchebags.
The new song started, “Katy’s Ballad,” and damn if it wasn’t perfect for our sweet girl. Even though my head hurt, I had to give Trent credit for writing the tune.
It started off sweet and soft then growled to a wild, climax-inducing finish—just like our Katy.
The bass part of the song was hot like fire. My fingers throbbed as I raked them across the strings. It was the perfect riff for the song. Rivers of sweat ran down my rock hard chest and tight abs as I drowned out the crowd of women to focus on one girl in particular.
Katy. Kitty-Kat. Sweet and soft and so entrancing.
The chorus of her song growled out of my throat. It had been a long time since a song spoke to me the way “Katy’s Ballad” did. Inside my thin jeans, my balls were sweaty and felt heavy, full of hot jizz. Katy had sucked me off just before the show started but I still couldn’t help but get hard thinking about her.
She sucked or fucked all three of us. Overachieving Trent got both her mouth and her pussy, though.
“Can we make this a tradition?” Mason had asked earlier in the evening. “We’ll fuck Katy before and after every show. Fill up her hungry slit with our big dicks and make her scream our names just like the fans who waited for us to come—ha ha, get it?—onstage.”
I nodded in agreement, although it was a lame joke. So did Trent.
Her pussy made a good bed-time snack too. At that thought, my teeth flashed at the crowd and the women screamed.
If only I could hear her scream right now.
Plugging her pussy, her face, and that sweet ass made me feel like a god—on top of the whole world. Other feelings were gnawing at me. Scary feelings.
I wanted to know Katy—and not just sexually.
What does she like to eat? Does she even like Alpha Prime’s music? What did she think about before she goes to bed every night?
The girl was always down for whatever we wanted, but her kindness was even better. She actually cared about me and about the band.
If somebody asked her which one of us was her favorite I bet she would say some sweet and corny shit like “Mason and Trent and Nick, all three are tied.”
Our girl.
My bass guitar ripped through the song and I growled into the mic. “On your knees, baby. For me, baby! I want you, baby. Only you!”
The lyrics to the song were raw and desperate—just like what we all felt for our Kitty-Kat.
“Nick! I wanna have your baby!”
A crazed chick suddenly came out of nowhere.
Screaming like mad, she scrambled onto the stage. Her pussy was wide open and naked, no panties in sight under her tiny skirt. The unwelcome redhead was headed right for me.
Where the fuck was our security? What were we paying them for?
“Nick! I want you soooo bad!”
Running straight at me, she managed to lift up her shirt to flash her tits and yank up her skirt while booking it like a deranged rabbit. Rumpled clothes fell around the woman’s narrow waist. The rest of her was butt naked.
“We got you on an airplane, loving you like a hurricane!” Trent sang. “Yeah yeah yeah, you’re drivin' me insane!”
The crazy girl wasn’t having it though.
“I want you!” she screamed, the whites of her eyes showing. “Pick me, Nick! Pick me!”
Like she stands a chance. Not with Katy around.
Still singing, I jumped to get out of her way. Finally, a security guy flew out of the wings. He seized the female as she screeched and kicked in an attempt to get away.
