tagErotic CouplingsRoadie Tales

Roadie Tales

bytrainee©

This is my first attempt to write anything as entertaining as I have read on this site. Likely not my last, unless it turns out I suck at it. In a bad way. English is by far not my first language, so feedback on that as well as the content is appreciated.

This story is based on a dream I had. It's up to you to guess which parts of it are based on my actual life, and which are twists of my sick mind. I had to fill in some parts that went missing, as well.

Thanks to Lisa for providing "inspiration."

Thanks to Kyuss for the company and support.

Thanks to friends and family who will hopefully never read this cause that would be way too awkward.

Also,

DISCLAIMER: Walt Disney Productions is a good production house, with safe working methods. Their show is also a very good one, worth seeing if you're a fan. So let's all be grown-ups and leave our lawyers out of this.

It's not like I'm making money off this anyhow.


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Most people hate double shifts. But I guess they don't like their job as much as I do. Maarten is my name. Don't laugh, it's Belgian. At work, where we talk English most of the time, it's Martin. I'm a roadie. I build stages and sets for performers.

The thing I like most about my work, is that they don't judge you on your looks. You don't have to look good for anyone. I always thought that, if I'd get a job, I'd have to get rid of the mohawk and the tee-shirts scolding half the society. But no one even mentioned them. I was welcomed in a tight group of friends, most of them looking way more "radical" than me. Despite my young age of 20, and not being as broad and strong as most of the others, I'm a hard and motivated worker. In my opinion, there's nothing more beautiful to see a band like R.E.M. or U2 jump on the stage you built, and the whole construction comes to life, with stunning light effects and music that inspires the 10,000 people watching your work.

We talk English because we're always working with a multi-national crew, in this case a mixture of Russians, Americans, and Belgians. We were building the set of Disney on Ice, which is basically a 3 story tower with some ramps and stairs on it, all made to look like ancient ruins in the middle of a jungle, with foam decorations covering it up. Yes, on ice.

It's a pretty "macho" job I suppose, with heavy lifting and potentially dangerous situations. So you can imagine our surprise when a couple of girls from the cast hopped on the ice to give us a hand. They were hired in the first place to skate and look good doing it, so they were subject of a lot of ogling.

I was doing my second shift, I had worked 18 hours already with 4 hours sleep, and there was still much work to be done. It must have been around midnight by then We were working on the fourth pillar supporting the tower. My job was to provide resistance by pulling it towards me with a rope while they were cranking it up, so it wouldn't tip the other side once it stood. It's a relatively boring job, so I took advantage of the time staring at the girls at work. They looked so fragile, climbing on the rigging with surprising skill. One of them suddenly looked back at me. She was my size, which isn't too big, with long, brown hair in a ponytail, and big black eyes looking back at me, contrasting with her white skin. God she was pretty. Where did I know her from? Despite her beautiful face, she gave me a cold look. I was too fascinated to look away, even though I realised how rude I was being. After a few seconds she turned back to her work, and yelled something in Russian to her male colleague. My mind drifted off about how it would be to hold a girl again after so long.

I don't know how long I stood there daydreaming before I heard three or four guys shouting "Incoming!!" I felt the tension of the rope loosen, and looked up in horror, to see the aluminium pillar come my way, with a broken steel cable lashing from it. The ice was too slippery to jump away, so I had to step out of its way just enough for it to crash right in front of me. Luckily, no one else was near when it happened.

I was about to start breathing again, when I heard something between two heartbeats. Before I had a chance to look up, the thick steel cable slammed into me. Its own elasticity had it sling out with enormous force, and I was right in its way. It wrapped around my shoulder and catapulted me over the ice like a dummy. I slid over the ice, and gently bonked my head against the side. My colleagues were with me within seconds. I tried to get up, to show I was okay, but a sharp pain in my shoulder had me down again before I could get to sitting position. The ice numbed the pain somewhat, and I was almost disappointed when they lifted me up and put me on a stretcher. As they carried me over the ice, I could see a trace of blood where I had passed. "Shit," I mumbled to myself, and it all went black.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a dimly lit room, with a couple faces I didn't know closely above mine. "Dat zou de pijn moeten verzachten, jongen." That should ease the pain. I tried to move, but something held me back. I looked at my shoulder and saw it wrapped tightly in bandages. The two men backed off, and I recognised the room as the local first aid base.

"Ah, good, you're awake," one of the men said, obviously not one of the working crew. You could tell by the suit and volume underneath. He seemed Russian, though. "Don't try to get up, get some rest first. The pressure of the cable put a lot of stress on your blood vessel, so it made quite a mess when the ragged end cut you. You lost quite some blood, so you could be feeling a little weak the next few hours. The medicine could make you a bit light in the head, also." He chuckled. I failed to see the humour. "It all seemed worse than it was, I'm sure." He smiled at the other guy, apparently a doctor. The other guy nodded obediently. The man in the suit grinned widely, and urged the doctor to leave the room, following soon after. Probably to discuss the cheapest and fastest way to get me back to work.

My neck was stiff. They put me on my back. Beh. I'm used to sleeping on my stomach. I was about to turn over, when I noticed I wasn't alone in the room. I needed a few seconds to realise,.. it was her! Her beautiful dark eyes looked down on me, with a slight frown, making me feel like an idiot.

"That will teach you to stare," she said shortly. Her English was flawless, but had a slight, incredibly cute Russian accent to it. I just mumbled in Dutch about the reason why I stared in the first place, trying to hide how embarrassed I really was. "This yours?," she asked me, and held my backpack up. I nodded. She held it out in front of her and read a few of the lines I had written on it. She smiled, I don't think she understood. Dropping my pack on the floor, she heard my paint cans rattle. She looked at me with surprise, and asked, "You do graffiti?" She seemed genuinely interested, and I said "just stencils" before I knew it. I gritted my teeth. Moron. I'll get myself arrested trying to impress a girl. She smiled.

"On buildings?"

"Oh, look at the clock," I thought. "Time to piss off." I was about to ask her if she didn't have any work to do, but she beat me to it.

"Sorry, it's none of my business." Wow, she could read me like a book. She nodded towards my shoulder. "Does it hurt much?" I couldn't come up with any answer that would shield me from any remarks, so decided to just be honest.

"Some, not if I stay still. The painkillers are kicking in."

"Let me have a look. I took med school." As she moved around the bed to the other side, I was amazed by how pretty she was, her jeans and black tee shirt tightly around her thin body. I felt my groin tingle, and inwardly commanded myself to behave. She kicked off her steel-tipped shoes and sat beside me, helping me sit upright. Damn that hurt. The scent of blood made me worry. I looked to see her reaction, but she didn't seem to be checking on my shoulder. Instead, she traced something over my other shoulder blade with her fingernail. I don't think she noticed I shivered lightly at her touch.

"Nice tattoo." I cursed myself for not thinking about the possibility that Someone Might had removed my shirt to patch me up. Man, those drugs didn't do much good for my common sense. "A blue rose? Does it stand for anything?"

I shrugged, biting back the jolt of pain in my shoulder, and just said "That's rather personal." She just nodded, and turned to my hurt side.

"There's some bloodstains here, looks like a nasty cut." Her hand slid slowly over my shoulder, and down my arm. "Here, turn over.," and I obeyed. I wanted to feel her touch as long as I could. As I laid on my stomach, she climbed onto the bed, and sat on my lower back. I closed my eyes and concentrated of the weight of her tight butt on me. Good thing I was lying on my stomach. She gently put her hands on both my shoulders, and left them there. They were still pretty cold from the metal trusses, and gave a strange sensation. I sighed, I couldn't help myself. That one touch calmed me, left me defenceless. Her hands moved to the centre of my back, and slowly traced my spine. I shivered again. She kept going, right to the spot where she was sitting, and held her hands there a moment. I froze. Was she touching herself there? But before I could tell for sure, she slid them up my back again.

Softly, she tugged at the bandages. "Turn around." I realised I had become pretty hard by now, so I asked why.

"To fix your bandages. They're not on right." That didn't convince me one bit, but what did, was the fact that she grinded herself down on me before lifting herself to let me turn. She couldn't see my tent from where she was sitting anyway, so I turned.

I groaned in horror when she sat down. Her ass was pressing right against my hard-on. She couldn't possibly not have felt that. Her face showed no sign of it, though. She just smiled down at me (God, her smile) and tugged at my wrappings. I began to feel a little dizzy, I assumed it was the loss of blood. The bandages hardly moved at all, but neither of us paid attention to that. Her hands dwelled over my chest, forgetting about them. Softly, she spoke.

"What is your name?"

-"M-.. Martin."

She leaned in, and whispered to me.

"Martin... Do you know how excited I am, Martin?"

I'm not sure what she meant by that, but it went black before my eyes a second time. Only briefly this time, it helped when I opened them. She leaned forward, grinding back against my pole. Her breath caught, and mine just stopped. Her face came closer to mine. I discovered her eyes were actually a soft hazel brown, right before she closed them, and her lips touched mine. Our tongues met, sliding against each other, savouring the gentle touch. For a split second, time stood still, and life made perfect sense. She quickly broke the kiss, and slid off me. Before I had the chance to ask, she sneaked over to the door and turned the lock. I knew the 'doctor is at work' sign was flashing now, so we had nothing to worry ab-... Worry? Why would we worry? What was she going to do? We can't just...

She sat on top of me again, and kissed me, more hungrily this time. Her breasts pressed against my chest, I could feel her nipples right through her shirt. My mind said goodnight and switched the light off, due to a lack of blood and oxygen, and hormones took over.

My hands drifted to her sides and found their way under her worker's shirt. She groaned encouragingly, and they traced up to her breasts, discovering she was wearing nothing underneath. Trembling, my fingers slid over her nipples, which were getting harder by the moment. She raised her arms suggestively, and I pulled her shirt over her head. Our kiss broke off to do so, and her tongue explored my lips before invading my mouth again. Her hips drew circles over my groin, and I bucked my hips up involuntarily, pressing my hardness between her legs. That seemed to trigger something. She sat up, and yanked at the buckle of my belt. I could see her perfect tits clearly now, her nipples, hard like pebbles, pointing teasingly at me. In no time, my pants fell down on the floor. She laid down on top of me, and jerked my shorts down. With a little help from me, they joined my pants next to the bed. With a soft gasp, she glanced down. She reached and touched the tip gently. My head dropped into the pillow, and I almost came right there and then.

Trying to concentrate not to let go so soon, I boldly tugged at the button of her jeans. She smiled, and bit her lip. Her hands left my chest and helped me get those pants off. Where they went, I don't know. There were very few things in the world I cared less about. All I saw was her: her perfect perky breasts, her thin, almost fragile naked body, and those pink panties she was wearing. Her fingers hooked under them to take them off as well, but I stopped her. I shushed her softly, and pulled her to me. I wasn't into the quick fuck-cliché. Not with her.

She laid down on me and straddled her legs along mine. My hands slid under her panties and cupped her firm butt. She sighed in my neck as I kissed her shoulder and collarbone. God it sucked not being able to move, I'd be all over her. My hard-on kept poking her panties, and she grinded against it with increasing pressure. My fingers found their way along the crack of her ass, down between her legs. My fingertips reached her cunnie. God, she was wet. Short, soft hairs gave way when I pressed softly between her pussy lips. I could hear her muffled groans into the pillow as my finger slowly, steadily, slid inside her. What she said to me, I don't know, it was in Russian. I couldn't restrain myself any longer and tugged her panties to the side, trying to arch my back to find her entrance.

She sat up just then, looking down at me with a teasing smile. "Too late now." I must have made quite a puppy face then, because it made her laugh. Her hands slowly slid down her waist, taking her panties with them. I watched her, hardly moving, but inside my head alarm bells rang. "I know, if you do your best..." My eyes reluctantly moved from the soft patch of fur between her legs to her face. She still smiled impishly while she tossed her panties aside. ."..you'll be able to kiss and make up." She shuffled upwards, and put both hands on the bedpost. With a soft shush she silenced my attempts to speak, and slowly lowered her hips to my face. Her scent filled my mind, blocking out all other thoughts that might have gotten through its density. It had been a while, but I knew what to do.

When she finally touched my trembling mouth, I pushed the flat of my tongue between her lips and ran it from back to front. Slowly, teasingly. Her answer was a gentle jerk of her hips, uttering a gasp that faded into a moan. My hands slid up her thighs -hurray for painkillers- and gently pressed her onto my face, fingertips exploring the soft cheeks and crack between. Opening my mouth, I welcomed her clit in and let my tongue lash against it. I closed my lips around hers, and sucked. I knew this made her even more sensitive, and soon she was whispering things I didn't understand, reaching down and entangling her fingers with my hair. The bare skin of her inner thighs brushed against my cheek, muscles tensing underneath to guide her clitty into my mouth. Her hands caressed my hair, mewing encouragingly. Her perfect little ass flexed, rocking her hips against my face.

She seemed to be directing me, but it took her a moment to put it in English. "Yes.. yes, like that.. mmm I'm so close.." I sucked a little harder, torturing her clit with the tip of my tongue, occasionally invading her. Dear God she tasted so good. Her groans became louder and she threw her head back, her hair tickling my chest. But right when she was about to come, she lifted herself off me.

I stared up at her, little stars dancing before my eyes. I could hardly breathe with her pressed down on me and it took me all my will to remain conscious, especially since my blood was flowing in a different direction than my head. She gave me her lovely smile again and wiped her juices off my face with her hand. "I want to come with you in me," she whispered to me, almost in a desperate voice. She gave me no time to respond and slid down my stomach. My moans as my erection was tormented by her ass were silenced by a soft, loving kiss. She felt so warm, her soft lips brushing over mine. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it, I was losing myself in those deep brown eyes, locked onto mine. "No.. Don't..." A whisper through my empty skull, but it echoed and died there. I knew she would leave the next day, but her soft caress beyond anything I've felt before had me ensnared and apathetic. I was falling in love.

She seemed unaware of this, looking down at me, gently guiding me to her entrance. My previous attentions had her utterly soaked and clenching in need. The world stopped when she sat down. Slowly she eased herself onto me, warm, slick, and God, so beautiful. She took my hands and guided them to her breasts, biting her lip as my fingers closed around them. The softness of her flesh contrasted sharply with the little pebbles in the middle of them. She was so perfect, almost painfully so. She was fully impaled now, sitting still to concentrate on the sensation.

"Oh I'm going to come so fast..." she whispered. Slowly, she lifted herself up, before dropping down on me again. My eyes rolled back and I thought "I'll never last long enough." Her inner muscles gripped me, and every motion brought me closer. I couldn't just disappoint her like that, so while she continued her riding with increasing speed, my nails dragged down her belly, pausing only at her belly button. I pressed my fingertips against her clit, nosing out from between her cunnie lips. Taking it between my fingers, I carefully tugged at it. I noticed she was watching my actions carefully, gasping at my every touch. The thumb of my other hand rolled her nipple around, as nails grazed over her breast. She put her hand on mine and squeezed, and I followed her lead. Her mewls became louder, more intense, as she bounced on me, until she groaned so loud I was afraid people outside might hear us.

"I'm gonna come... gonna... so soon.." She gripped me ever tighter, squeezed me, and drove me over the edge with her. I tried to moan, speak, pray to the goddess on me, but nothing came out. I could only try and breathe and let myself slip into darkness, her tightness milking me for what seemed to be an eternity, filling her belly with my semen.

***

"Wink at a girl in the audience and she is yours." I put the last pin in, looked up from the subs and grinned. "Seriously," the Texan said. "They think you can get them backstage to screw the drummer, so if you're lucky, you can have her behind the tour bus." I nodded, making my most interested face, although I didn't believe a word of it. "But, kid, for fuck's sake. Use condoms. Knocking a girl up ends your career, not to mention your marriage. Girls wanting to fuck artists have issues, obviously. They hardly give a flying shit about anything if it gets them in. And then, it's your time to bend over, grease up, and get fucked. Gotta use your brains, or "rock and roll" is over for you."

That did made me think. Condoms. Pregnancy. Something didn't add up. I shrugged. Whatever. Like I would ever get that lucky.

***

For a second time, or second and a half, I slowly came back to reality. The room was empty, and sunlight poured in through the window. Sunlight, wow. How long did I sleep? I turned, sighing contentedly as I finally laid on my stomach. Echoes of my dreams rang in my head, and I tried to remember them. Russians. Texans. People were talking just outside, I wish they'd shut up. That voice, the girl, she sounded familiar.

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