by Katie Ford
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.
Like me and Mason, Trent couldn’t stop staring at her. Moaning and watching us, our girl rolled a nipple between long, undecorated fingers. Finally, she pushed the head of the mic into her pussy, the lips stretched obscenely as they gripped the fat head. I couldn't have shut my eyes even if a bomb went off.
It wasn’t just her pretty pussy. It was her smile. It was who Katy was as a person.
Innocent yet slutty. Bare-faced but beautiful.
Mason and Trent turned their bright blue eyes my way. They both shook their heads—a sign that the two of them were thinking the same thing that I was.
We wanted to fuck her, but there was more to Katy than sex. That was the part that the three of us wanted to know more about.
“You look real good, Kitty-Kat,” Trent growled. His dick was a monster in his jeans. “Good enough for us Alphas to eat.”
“We’d love to devour you, baby,” Mason rasped, eyes glued to her twat and the big mic it was trying to swallow.
“But not right now,” I told her.
Definitely later. That wet pussy will not go to waste.
Her lust-dark eyes landed on our gigantic bulges. She licked her lips and plunged the mic deeper inside. Her slit squelched wetly as the girl moaned. Juices squirted between the mic head and smeared all over her thick, juicy thighs.
Well, that’s my favorite microphone now.
On my left, Mason growled and held onto his dick so hard that it looked like he was about to yank it off. Trent’s abs rippled and the muscles in his pecs and arms jumped. He looked ready to pounce on top of her and take what she was offering.
“Baby, you’re gonna make me cream my jeans,” the front-man growled.
All of us were hard as rocks and ready to plow her sweet pussy, mouth, and asshole. A shudder ran through me as I fought for control.
“Then why are you fighting it?” she mewled. Our princess wanted us so bad. It was all over her face, the evidence of her need gushing wet between her legs. “Come to me. I want you to. All of you.” She opened her legs wider and pushed the already wet and defiled mic even deeper, arching her back while mewling sensuously. “Now, now!” The mic plunged harder into her hole. She twisted her nipples, one after the other. “Please…”
The smell of pussy, salty and wet, was unavoidable.
My dick spurted in my jeans and the pre-cum stain on the denim grew darker and wider.
“Shit. We wanna go slow, baby. But you’re making it hard.” Trent didn’t even seem like he was trying to stop. With his laser blue gaze trained on her wide open pussy jammed full with the fake cock, the singer stroked his beast through his jeans.
“That’s the idea, guys.” She pushed the mic deeper into her pussy, moaning again. “Don’t you want me to get you hard?”
Her thick thighs pushed all the way open and her hips thrust up into the air while that soft, pink mouth panted for us. “I want you, Mason.” She moaned. It was obvious that our girl was hitting her sweet spot. The big table bounced under her writhing and groaning body. “I want you in me, Nick.” Then she called Trent’s name, whimpery and needy, like if she didn’t get our dicks right then, she would die.
Fuck in heaven, she’s going to roast me alive with this mic trick.
My dick hammered loud and fast right along with my pulse, roaring at me to get into her snatch.
Mason and Trent watched her like tigers about to bust through their leash. My two band-mates gripped their dicks hard, no longer stroking. Savage cerulean eyes spoke volumes. They were ready for action.
But the first move had to be mine.
“Come on, baby.” I kneeled over Katy and slowly pulled the lucky mic from her cunt with a wet sucking sound. Oh shit, it was covered in goo, tasty and wet. But this wasn’t the time, so I tossed it aside.
My cock nearly busted in my pants at the sucking wet sound her pussy made. It didn't want to let go of the mic. Turned on like gangbusters, I clenched my stomach muscles to stop myself from coming. That movement of rippling power caught her eye and she stared, her mouth open and wet.
“Please,” our princess mewled.
With a low grunt I gave in and did what I’d been wanting to do since walking in the room. My fingers dipped into her cunt—soft, wet, hot—then out. Groaning, I sucked the sweet honey from my fingertips.
She moaned and watched me with greedy eyes.
“We want you, baby.” My tongue licked between my fingers, sopping all that juice up from her sweet snatch. “But not just your pussy. We want all of you.”
“Yeah.” Mason stepped closer, finally in better control. “Nobody else can make us lose it like you. You’re our sweet queen.”
“We wanna know everything about our Kitty-Kat, not just how she feels on our cocks.” Trent kissed her cheek and Mason, bending down on the other side of her, bit her soft shoulder. “I want to know what your favorite food is, what you want to do in life, where you want to travel. I want to know everything. We all do.”
I ran my fingers through her hair.
“You’re going to give us what we want, right?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling sweetly.
The lust began to simmer down inside of her. As much as I liked to see our girl on the edge, part of me felt guilty—almost like we had ruined the once-virgin. She wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck. He offered her a small kiss and a hug.
“Come on, Kitty-Kat,” the drummer said, caressing her cheek.
Smiling, she looked drugged but happy, nonetheless. We helped her climb off the table where other people had served up disposable and dangerous treats for other bands.
This candy table wasn’t the place for her. Katy was too special to share the same spot as deadly brown sugar. She was our drug, but she deserved better. So we led her to the back of the dressing room where a door led to a private chamber. And in the chamber was a giant bed big enough for all of us and Katy, covered in white satin sheets. There was plenty of room to roll around, which was exactly why we needed it. A mirror reflected from the ceiling just above the bed.
Old school kinky. I like it.
We kicked off our shoes, and gestured to the beautiful girl. Then, all four of us climbed onto the monster of all beds and got comfortable.
“Hmmm. This is incredible.” Katy lay on her back in the white robe, stroking the pristine sheets. “I didn't know they made beds this big.”
“It's just for you, baby.” Trent kissed the back of her neck and she giggled. “We’ll do anything to make you happy.”
It was a lie. She wouldn’t be happy when we fired her.
Our princess thought we were gods. I could see it in her eyes. She had given us too much power. But that was for later. Right now, it was about getting to know the sweet female.
“Comfy, Kitty-Kat?” Mason spooned her from the back, the dirty bastard, petting her ass with his dick.
I thought he was going to try more, but he let our princess settle into his arms. That was what our drummer was supposed to do. It was not time for sex.
Leaning back, I took her hand in mine. Her hands were so soft, just like the rest of her.
A true angel.
Trent sat near the foot of the bed with her legs in his lap, massaging her toes. She stared at him, eyes wide with astonishment.
“So tell us,” Mason rumbled from behind her. “What is Katy Baxter all about?”
She blushed. It was our fault.
Six or seven times a day, we made love to the woman. The girl moaned and screamed it, but it didn’t change anything. We didn’t really know her, and that was our fault. Because ever since this started, we'd been non-stop fucking. Our shafts knew every inch of Katy’s pussy, but Alpha Prime didn’t know her any better than Jane Doe. So this was a change.
“Um,” She bit her lip, looking so shy and sweet that I had to kiss her pretty mouth. Red-faced, our girl continued. “I um...want to write books. Nothing too special. Just books. I mean, I guess novels. M-maybe articles.”
“About us?” Trent asked, suddenly looking a bit perturbed. “You aren’t a reporter, are you?”
Katy was far from a reporter. Writer or not, she was no paparazzo.
“No, no. Like books about far away places. Fiction.”
“Places like where?” I asked her. “Other planets? Made-up countries?”
It wasn't that I thought all she wanted to do was be a personal assistant to famous people. Even so, this intellectual part of her was a nice surprise.
“I dunno,” she murmured, shrugging. “I haven't really been anyplace. Not like you guys. That’s why I like traveling with you. I get to see so many new cool spots that’d be out of my budget.”
“Shit,” Trent drew the word out and laughed. “We probably see more venues than any real places since we'd been on the road. We didn’t even see the Eiffel Tower when we toured Europe, and we were in France for a week,” he added dryly.
Mason jumped in. “Truth. When we were starting out, we wanted to see lots of places. Way the hell more than we ever saw in that beater VW van that used to take us around. Never did do it, though. Did a lot of traveling but not a lot of sightseeing.”
Trent laughed. “Yeah, fuck that VW.”
I silently agreed. The van never started when we wanted it to.
But Katy’s eyes brightened.
“A VW van? Really? I think those are so hysterical, like what hippies drive.
Mason chuckled dryly. “It was a piece of shit, but it got us around most of the time.”
“Good enough for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds,” Trent noted.
“Wait, you were driving at fifteen?” she gasped. “I didn’t realize you guys even knew each other back then! Isn’t that illegal? Or did you have an adult with you?”
The guys and I exchanged sharp, electric blue gazes. It was just like Katy to turn the conversation back to us. She had a knack for listening and making you feel comfortable. We were already halfway in love with her. Every day, she reminded us why.
I jerked my head at Trent. It was his story to start.
“I met these bozos when I was in foster care,” he said. “We grew up in the same town—Nick and I even had the same foster parents for a bit.”
“Oh my God! Really?” Katy's big brown eyes flooded with sympathy. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was no picnic,” I agreed. In foster care, we barely had anything to call ours, and when we did, the bigger kids made it their mission to beat the shit out of us and take it. The years of bruises and scars and nightmares made Alpha Prime stronger. Resilient.
The terror never stopped, though. Nightmares would always haunt me.
“But the good part of all that was us getting together,” Mason said. His mouth turned down at the corners, probably from remembering all the shit we went through. “He was only in the system for a little while, maybe a couple of months after his folks died.”
“My sister turned eighteen not long after I was put in the system.” Trent kneaded Katy’s foot like he needed the distraction from his own memories. “After a lot of struggle, she got me out and brought me to live with her. Because of my sister, I was able to get these guys out too. Mason had it the worst. His parents—well, I’ll let him talk about them if he ever wants to.”
Mason shook his head. Trent was not lying. Our drummer had had it far worse than the two of us.
“We found out that we were all good at music,” I continued. “Really good.”
Mason nodded and ran his fingers through Katy’s curly hair. “Trent's sister got us all instruments on her tiny salary. She saved our lives.”
“Yeah.” I turned to Trent and saw the love he had in his eyes for his sister, Helena. Our rescuer. It was the same love we all had for the woman. Alpha Prime couldn’t exist without her.
“She got us out of that hellhole together, and then she let us go.” Trent pursed his lips. It had been a while since we’d seen Helena in person. FaceTime didn’t count. From the look on his face, we were probably gonna make a trip up to New England to see her real soon.
Because Helena deserved a bouquet of flowers for finding Katy for us. Giving them to her in person sounded like the proper and gentlemanly thing to do, even if none of us were actual gentlemen.
Trent cleared his throat. “We toured in that shitty little VW for a while. Helena found it in the newspaper and booked all our gigs, making the arrangements.”
“We only had about thirty bucks between us.” Mason started to smile. “It was enough for gas to make it to the next gig, and maybe get some food. Maybe.”
“It was a struggle...” Trent started.
“But damn, it was fun,” I finished.
Those had been some of the best times for me. The nostalgia was making all of us feel old—geriatric even. Reminiscing was not something that we often did.
“Yeah, it was the shit, wasn’t it?” Mason’s blue eyes glimmered. “You could be on stage, nice and low, and see everybody. You saw the sweat on their faces and the excitement in their eyes. It wasn’t just a ton of craz
ed girls on drugs.”
The packed little dive clubs we played back then smelled like spilled beer, sweat, and funk. I missed it.
Trent tugged playfully at Katy’s toes and she smiled down at him, her cheeks going pink. “The fans were so close that we could touch 'em.”
“You touched the shit out of 'em, all right,” Mason laughed at Trent. “Even the ugly ones.”
“That was fun, seriously, man,” Trent replied, ignoring Mr. Caveman’s comment.
And it was. I missed the hell out of those days. “Now the fans are packed in these fucking stupid amphitheaters. It’s impossible to see anyone, all the silhouettes are dark and blend together. They’re all rapacious socialites looking for a rich boyfriend.”
“It's like a wall of shadows except when some skank jumps out of the crowd and tries to shove her pussy in our faces,” Mason agreed.
Katy made a noise of shock. “You guys would rather be broke?”
Mason threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, Trent. You miss being broke?”
He laughed like a madman. Trent really got off on the money and power. He wasn't a diva, but he was damn close with his “only flavored water” bullshit during interviews.
“Maybe not being broke,” Trent growled. “But I miss the authenticity. We all do.”