The last song of the gig was the biggest hit we’d had, we’d called it, “Juicy Lucy” and it had become an anthem for teenage girls all over the world.
About six thousand of them had packed into the hall to see what was billed as our last ever concert. At least it was the last until after the trial of our bass guitarist, and we knew how long he’d get.
The trouble was though, we’d thrown a pretty wild party in our hotel suite after a particularly successful gig. The police had kicked the doors in just as the horny twins were enjoying a sexy wet kiss with each other. He might’ve got away with just that little bit of sibling friendliness except that Lily was sitting on his face and Lesley was impaled on his huge, thick cock. He almost certainly would have got away completely but for the cocaine he stupidly offered to a plain clothes police officer thinking he was a hotel employee.
“Hide this for me mate,” he’d said, “There’ll be a grand in it for you if the pigs don’t find it.”
“The officer pulled out his warrant card and said. “Oink.”
The drummer was arrested too, but let off after it was discovered that the girl in his bed was actually sixteen, which is the age of consent in Britain.
The lead guitarist was out of it because of the cocaine and the two girls who’d been hoping to share his bed were entertaining each other in the bathroom so he couldn’t be touched either.
The rhythm guitar man was in another bathroom having a piss and promptly leapt from the window into the swimming pool where he stayed, shivering until it was all over and watched as his two sixteen-year-old companions were put into the back of a police car to be reunited with their “caring” parents.
Me? I was luckier than any of them, my two young friends had been on the balcony, amusing me by seeing who could piss the furthest and had seen the cars screeching to a halt outside.
It took them just seconds to sweep up all their clothes, throw me a very damp and aromatic little g-string and scramble into a double wardrobe. By the time the two huge coppers stamped into my room, it was in total darkness, and I was snoring loudly.
At first, they’d been all mouth and trousers, very sure of themselves, they’d looked under the bed, in the wardrobes, the en-suite bathroom, even in the massive trunk where I kept my stage clothes. But they found not a thing and eventually apologised, leaving me wondering just where the fuck my horny little nymphs had gone!
“Have they gone yet?” came from the wardrobe, the very same wardrobe I’d watched the copper looking into, he’d even got down onto his knees and looked around in vain.
“Fucking hell, that was close Jerry” one of them announced cheerfully as she opened one of the long leather coats and disentangled herself from around the hanger.
Another coat parted, and her friend appeared two from around another coat hanger.
“I’ll say it was close,” she laughed. “If he’d have looked up, he’d have been staring straight into my pussy.”
I’ve never been one to spoil a party, so being a gentleman, I took both the little darlings back to bed again and only just got them up in time for school the following morning.
That was six weeks ago and the poor bastard’s been in custody ever since. It’s always been a big thing at our gigs, that we recruit our dancers from the audience before the shows. We let our roadies pick a few out, and they can then see the whole show from the cages we put them in above the stage. We pay them a few pounds each, and we get to look up between their legs all throughout the show.
Most of them end up in bed with us afterwards, ‘cos it’s what they want. Our parties are legendary, the whole fucking world knows we take drugs, name me a rock band whose members don’t take them and I’ll tell you all about my affair with mother Theresa.
The climax in more ways than one of our shows usually consists of the audience singing “Juicy Lucy” arms up in the air, swaying in time to the beat and showing either sexy little panties as their skirts ride up over their thighs, or as in most cases, showing their sweet little cunts!
I’d had my eye on one particular girl. A small blonde who looked about sixteen or if I was really unlucky, seventeen, I’d already got her panties in my pocket from the first number we did. I’d made her very unpopular with the rest of the audience by wiping them over my face and making a big play of sniffing them whilst thrusting my hips out at them.
Her name was Wendy, and her mate’s name was Susan, Susan had kept her panties on and when I asked why, back in my hotel room, she said she wanted to show me something,
“Got any coke?” she laughed.
“The real thing, or the REAL THING?”
“Well, this coke doesn’t come out of a bottle.”
I gave her a small bag that would have cost her old man at least a months wages and sat back with Wendy on my lap, her eager little cunt dripping all over my leathers.
“You’ll like this Rocky,” she giggled.
Taking my hand, she placed it between her legs and opened them wide.
“She likes to look at my pussy when she does this.”
Susan dropped her panties until they were just above her knees, then sprinkled some coke into the gusset.
“What the fuck’s she doing?”
“Watch, you see how small the panties are don’t you?”
“Yeah, but none of our fans wear fucking bloomers you know.”
She giggled and sighed as I pushed a finger into her cunt.
“You’re so impatient, just watch.”
Slowly the girl drew the panties back up until they were nearly, but not quite back in place, then gripping the waistband, she jerked them up hard, the narrow band of the gusset went right up between her cunt lips, and she screamed as the cocaine mingled with the glistening wetness around her clitoris.
She jerked and dropped to her knees, legs wide apart and a clenched fist ramming the panties up hard into her sex, her head went back as her eyes rolled. Spasm after spasm seemed to run through her body, I thought I’d seen it all before, but this was something else again.
I hardly noticed Wendy’s fingers opening my pants and pulling out my rock hard prick, but I sure as fuck noticed it when I felt her warm mouth closing over it.
That was one of the craziest nights of the whole fucking tour. I can’t remember an awful lot about it, but I do remember waking up with a warm naked teenager on either side of me, each one with a leg thrown over my hips and my wife standing beside the bed holding a tray with three cups of coffee on it.
“Shouldn’t you two be somewhere?” she asked of the girls, “Like school for instance.”
“It’s Saturday,” said Susan and reached for my rapidly hardening cock.
“Why don’t you chill out, put the coffee down and get in with us?”
Wendy giggled and shoved the cover aside.
“Come on,” she laughed. “I’ve only ever tasted Susan’s pussy once before, I fancy experimenting a bit.”
“That depends darling,” my wife said and began unfastening the buttons of her blouse.
Wendy opened her legs to display her hairless little cunt, still swollen from where my prick had hammered it the night before.
“What does it depend on?”
My wife’s heavy breasts spilled out over the top of her skimpy black bra, her nipples were already rising with anticipation, and Wendy began stroking herself as she watched the black leather trousers being opened.
“It depends,” she turned her back and slipped out of the trousers, the beautifully firm cheeks of her bottom bulged out from the little black g-string, her legs encased in black seamed, hold up stockings, never failed to arouse me.
She shimmied out of the g-string, and Wendy screamed as she turned round.
“On which hole you want to be fucked in first.”
And my wife’s gorgeously hard, twelve-inch cock pulsed in her hands as she approached the bed!
