|The Boys In The Band
by Jenna Ink ©
* * * * *
(for my bad boy rockers)
They were pushed up and out, as far as they would go. Jenna stepped back and admired her work: her tits looked great. The bustier she’d chosen only weeks before truly accentuated her lush, 40DD breasts, creating an evil temptress out of her once angelic and pristine looks.
"You look great," Debbie chimed, entering the bathroom and grabbing a tube of lipstick.
"Thanks," Jenna smiled. "Do you think they’ll like me?"
Debbie laughed. "Honey, these musicians like anything with tits and a pulse."
The two girls giggled.
"I’ve waited for this moment forever," Jenna smiled to her knowing friend.
Debbie winked, offered up a supportive hoot, and ran out of the room to go apply her final primping touches.
* * * * *
He beckoned her closer.
"Be my date for this evening," he smiled.
His outstretched hand signaled for Jenna to come on-stage, which she nervously did. He placed her within the safe confines of the side-stage area, and returned to take his place alongside his rocking bandmates.
She watched as the girls in the front rows clamored to molest the band, hands darting over leather clad thighs and sweating flesh. Her observations were keen and when she’d later breach the subject with the band, a half-hearted laugh would come from the drummer. "I never get any love back there," he grinned.
The show was a decadent one. The lead singer spoke freely with the audience, proclaiming his love of women, drink, and song, and appealing to the youthful group to vote for the legalization of illicit substances. Jenna scanned the crowd for her missing partner-in-crime, who had remained behind when she’d accepted the band member’s invitation. She thought she spied Debbie dancing on top of the back bar once, though her vision was clouded by the stage lights, cigarette and pot smoke that weighted the club’s air and created a rusty taste in her throat.
The bassist was, indeed, as beautiful in person as he’d been in Jenna’s fantasies and magazine clippings. She watched as his lean body moved fluidly across the stage, his hair glistening with sweat but still perfect in an unnaturally rugged sense. The green of his eyes glinted, reflecting his smile in Jenna’s direction and causing many of her fellow females to swoon. She wasn’t sure she had liked this coquettish group when she’d first been placed alongside them in this side area, though now she knew for sure they were her competition; she could not and would not turn to grimace at them, though her innermost devilish longings urged her to smack the plastic blonde to her left for her incessant groping of the band’s guitarist. The blonde’s hair flailing approach to flirting with the man was enough to send Jenna into a near rage, every ounce of her body fighting to keep her hands to herself and not take out the offending fan.
As the band exited the stage, Jenna’s heart began to race. She quickly forgot the offending blonde and fluffed her hair quickly, though she later realized it was pointless to primp: she’d already won her man.
"I’ll be with you in a second," he smiled as he passed.
Jenna frowned, though she knew a second was little to ask. Her eyes trailed him through the backstage enclosure, though her figure remained in place. He strolled casually past waiting fans, friends, and females, and paused outside the door to an offset room. The smile she’d fantasized about for years appeared, he laughed, and grabbed an offered beer. His adam’s apple bobbed slowly as he slammed back the beverage, sweat beading on his temples. He threw the empty can at someone in the tiny room, and pivoted to glance in Jenna’s direction.
A few strides returned him to her side, and she felt her heart begin to race again, her legs go numb.
"Hi, I’m Jerry," he grinned.
"I know," she giggled, "I’m Jenna."
Jerry surveyed the area around them, smiling to a few girls that stood off to Jenna’s right, giggling about the band members and whispering giddy epithets.
"Good show tonight," he winked. "Have you seen us before?"
"Never," Jenna smiled. "It was awesome! I love you guys."
"What’s so funny?" Jenna heard herself ask, though she was unsure how she’d gotten so bold.
He glanced at her, their eyes locking at a mutual point. "I can’t figure you out."
"Figure me out?" she studdered, repeating the words as if he’d stated the theory of relativity.
"Yeah, you know, innocent looking girl comes to a gig, rocks out like a true groupie in the front row. Band member makes her an offer and she accepts."
"Was I not supposed to accept?" she smiled questioningly, teasingly.
"I’m just glad you did," he smiled and turned toward a prodding fan.
"I have to sign some autographs, but I’d like to see you later...on the bus," Jerry smiled warmly.
Jenna felt a pulse of heat go down her spine, she turned, glanced over her shoulder, and mouthed to him, "I’ll see you later."
* * * * *
"Are you here alone?" he smiled.
The grin was inviting, friendly; like the smile that would paint the face of a childhood accomplice.
"I’m waiting for someone," Jenna smiled.
The man sat, staring at Jenna as she sipped her drink, sending a tingling down her spine. She wasn’t sure if she was a bit nervous or a bit excited, but all the same, she kept her guard.
"You come to see the band?" he asked.
"Yeah, they were great, weren’t they?"
Jenna relaxed a bit, happy to have a conversation to take advantage of rather than be gawked at by the stranger.
"I’m glad you thought we were," he chuckled. "I’m the drummer, Danny."
His outstretched hand reassured Jenna that he meant no harm. She stared easily into his warm eyes, noticing their gleam and friendly glow. She liked him. It was absurd, she knew, after knowing someone all of five minutes, but this was someone she could trust.
She took the hand and laughed. "I’m sorry, I’m new to all of this. I’m Jenna."
"Well, Jenna, it’s nice to meet you," Danny smiled and turned to the male on his right.
She watched as he signed autographs naturally and graciously, then summoned the bartender to order himself a Jack and coke.
"So, are you from around here?" Danny questioned, drumming up conversation.
"I live in Barkersville," she smiled, then, realizing he likely did not know the area, added, "It’s about 45 minutes south of here."
"Aha, so you know the area."
"I guess so," she laughed. "I’m not good with directions, though."
"Darn, I was going to ask you where someone can get something to eat around here," he answered, glancing off toward the clock that hung on the wall over the beer fridge.
"That I can answer," she giggled. "There’s a 24-hour restaurant down the block from here."
Danny thanked her graciously, then ran off to some unknown destination. When he returned, Jerry was with him and the pair had both donned matching leather jackets.
"Let’s go," Jerry smiled.
"Where?" Jenna inquired.
"To get something to eat? Danny said you’d give us a ride."
Jenna laughed. "I’ll give you a ride," she offered, smirking toward the mentioned male for his shrewdness.
* * * * *
Jerry chewed, swallowing roughly. "Your first show, huh?"
"Yeah, and I’m glad I came," she smiled, twirling her straw in her drink.
"You liked the show, right?" Danny questioned, hoping the pair wasn’t biding time with someone they’d just offended, auditorilly.
"Of course," Jenna laughed. "How could you not?"
The men laughed, chowing down on their meals as though they’d gone without for weeks.
"What’s it like being in a different city every night?" the girl inquired, her eyes transfixed on the swimming ice cubes.
"It’s difficult sometimes," Jerry admitted. "Being away from your family and friends back home."
"I miss my dogs," the drummer quipped.
"You don’t believe me? I’m serious," he pleaded to her with an amused look in his eyes.
"You miss your wife, your house, your kids," Jerry added, ignoring his companions.
Jenna paused, had he said his wife and kids?
"You have a wife and kids?" she asked.
"A kid," Danny corrected.
Jerry frowned. "I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?"
Jenna laughed, appreciative of his honesty and touched that he’d miss his family enough to mention them to an absolute stranger. She glanced curiously at his ring finger, searching for the obligatory gold band. It wasn’t there.
"My wife and I are separated," he grimaced. "Makes things hard cause every time I’m away from home, it’s less time we have to work on things."
Jenna smiled comfortingly.
"I miss my son most of all," he added, thoughtfully.
"What’s he look like?" Jenna asked.
"He’s about two feet tall, with blackish fur and a big shaggy tail," Danny laughed. "Oh, you mean HIS son?"
"I have a picture," Jerry laughed, and handed her his wallet.
The boy depicted in the photo was a miniature version of his father, right down to his sparkling emerald irises.
"He’s beautiful," Jenna smiled sincerely.
"Thank you," Jerry beamed. "I miss him immensely."
* * * * *
"Think I can make my way through the whole band?" Debbie asked on an up-stroke.
The reclined guitarist laughed. "Would you want to?"
Debbie didn’t answer, she had her mouth full.
Mike tapped her on the shoulder and she raised up, questioningly. As his orgasm peaked and his semen shot onto his stomach, she smiled and offered a thank you for the warning.
"No, thank you," he grinned lasciviously. "With a mouth like that, I’ll bet you can make it through the band and then some."
"Who’s next then?" she grinned.
Mike laughed and pulled his shirt back over his head.
"You’re on your own, kid."
He disappeared from his bunk, and rejoined the celebration up-front.
Debbie smirked. Sure, sure, love and leave, she thought.
* * * * *
The bus was calm. Sure, a band member and some underage groupie would sneak away now and then, but the Roman orgy-esque scenarios that Jenna had imagined were curiously absent. She sat lodged in the corner of an overstuffed sofa, observing the passersby, party-goers, drunkards, and Jerry’s hat fashion show. He ran back and forth- from front lounge to his bunk- showing the assembled group of flirty women every hat he owned, relishing their adorations and the occasional blonde squeaking, "Oh, Jerry, you’re so cute!".
As the night winded to a close, the bus’ inhabitants dwindled down to a mere few and the band members began to retire to their bunks. Jenna yawned and motioned to Debbie that it was nearing the witching hour. As the two girls’ eyes met, Jerry placed himself alongside Jenna and took her hand gently into his.
"You will come to the show tomorrow, right?" his eyes beamed, longingly.
"Well...." she sighed.
"Please?" he begged. When he got down on one knee and smiled into her eyes, Jenna knew what her answer had to be.
"I’ll give you my room at the hotel- It’s all I know about the gig. We can meet there in the afternoon, and I can treat you to dinner for making the drive," he smiled, assuringly.
Debbie was bopping around behind Jerry’s shoulders so that Jenna had to fight from dying laughing at her friend’s glee.
"I shall see you tomorrow then, Jerry," Jenna beamed.
"Goodnight sweetheart," he smiled. "Get home safe."
He hugged Jenna softly, kissing her cheek and whispering in her ear, "Thank you for everything." When Jenna thought her knees would give and her body would crumble to the ground, he pulled away and shook Debbie’s hand, smiling and thanking her for her appearance, as well.
* * * * *
She meandered around the foreign halls, glancing infrequently at room numbers and doors unknown to her. The card he had quickly scribbled offered only one clue to her destination, a sloppy scroll announcing: "Clarke Inn, Room #112".
Debbie trailed behind her, made up to look like a Maybelline ad, flouncing about the halls as though she were about to entertain at a bawdy event. "Are we going in the right direction?" she meowed, giggling and waving to a group of men in uniforms that Jenna could not distinguish.
"If I knew that, then we wouldn’t be worried, would we?" Jenna spat, angry at Debbie’s unsympathetic impatience when her insides were churning a hole through her stomach lining.
In her momentary aggravation, Jenna didn’t see him step out of his hotel room and turn and walk right into her.
"I’m so sorry," Jerry laughed, extending his hand to steady her.
"Jerry, thank god," Jenna smiled. "We were just saying we weren’t sure if we were heading right."
Jerry smiled sympathetically, then teased, "Jenna, there’s only 115 rooms in this hotel. You could not have possibly missed the room."
Debbie began to chuckle, but turned her back on the couple to stop from ruining their moment.
"I’m glad you came."
Jenna hugged the male, uttering softly, "Me too."
Debbie snuck away as the pair embraced, knowing that she’d easily reunite with her friend later that afternoon.
* * * * *
"I have a special request," the singer smirked.
Debbie raised herself up, propping her cheek on her elbow, returning the blonde’s sexy grin.
"I have many special talents, my dear."
"Will you meet me in the back lounge later tonight?"
"That’s not all that special," Debbie chided.
The singer grimaced. "This was too rushed, I want to get to know you better," he offered.
Debbie heard his bandmate chuckle.
"Here, use this," he offered and handed Debbie a laminate with an attached bus key. "Meet me at 9PM."
Debbie giggled as she placed the laminate around her neck, promising to meet the singer for a rendezvous later that night. She momentarily wondered about her friend and the girls whereabouts, but as she began to dress, the thought slipped easily from her clouded mind.
* * * * *
"I want you," she cooed, purring under his gentle touch.
"In your ass," he whispered.
Her purring ceased and she turned to glance into his soft green eyes. "Excuse me?" she uttered stupidly.
"I want to put it in your ass," he stated firmly, matter of factly.
"I’m not into that," she frowned.
She felt his hand lift from her breast, his body pulling away from hers.
"I have to go."
"Because of this?" she pleaded.
The room was silent; an uncomfortable, unfriendly silence. Debbie’s heart raced, pounding against the wall of her chest. Her blood coursed rapidly through her veins, sweat pulsed on her breast.
"If that’s what you want...." Debbie’s voice trailed off into the alien darkness.
His eyes transfixed on hers, his hand reaching toward her denim waistband.
"Are you sure?" he glowed.
Debbie didn’t answer but moved her petite frame closer to his, trailing her hand down his chest softly as she moved.
"Just be gentle," she winked, bringing the blood rushing to his crotch.
* * * * *
The show that night did not disappoint the pair of travelers. The men forged themselves head long into a two hour set, scarily reminiscent of the night before though Debbie was finally able to watch from the side stage vantage point.
Her eyes hungrily coursed over the bodies of the two musicians that she’d only hours before been flesh-to-flesh with. She watched as the guitarist’s hips swiveled in a solo sexual tango, her memories racing to her moments shared in his bunk, his cock in her mouth, his hands in her hair. Her eyes slowly scanned the stage, moving away from her first lover, and locking in on her second conquest. His blonde locks flowed behind him as he ran from stage left to stage right, the crowd’s glances locked on his flawless frame, as well. She vaguely glanced him staring in her direction, her heart raced, and then, he jumped into the crowd and their gaze was broken.
The remainder of the show was high octane and fulfilling beyond belief for Debbie. Jenna sat silently in a chair, glancing around to keep tabs on Jerry now and then, though mostly concerned with the group of female gropers in the front rows, whose stares were beginning to dig into her self-confidence.
Debbie saw her friend’s greatest relief come when the band waved goodnight to their fans, and walked offstage. Jenna’s man came straight to her, and they met in a warm embrace that seemed to erase all of Jenna’s earlier fears. Debbie smiled and snuck off to find herself some more trouble.
* * * * *
"What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he smiled.
"How do you know what kind of a girl I am?" Debbie argued.
"It’s a bad line, I know," he laughed, his eyes beaming his embarrassment across the void between them.
Debbie took a sip of her rum, glancing the male up and down slowly, languidly. "What’s a guy like you need lines for anyway?" she asked.
The bar patron turned from his drink and smirked at her. "I suppose I should have given them up years ago, huh?" he laughed.
His eyes were a faint brown, gentle, almost childlike. His thick eyebrows were crooked, creating a sexy grin and a boyish charm that made him look far younger than his years.
Debbie grinned. "You’re the new recruit, right?"
"Is that all I am?" he questioned.
"The new drummer?" she jibed.
"I do have a name, you know."
"Why are you making this so hard?"
"Nothing’s hard yet," he winked.
Debbie giggled. "Your name, what is it?"
"She wants me to surrender myself easily," he announced to no one in particular. "Such personal information and she offers nothing in return."
"Yeah, yeah, Romeo," Debbie laughed.
"It’s not Romeo, guess again" he winked.
"Hmm..." Debbie met the challenge, pondering her next guess.
"You look like an all-American boy," she teased, tossing her hair to the side. "Michael?"
He sipped his drink. "Close, but no cigar, my queen."
"David, David...What’s close to David?" she asked, though not really to him.
"How about Danny?"
"Sure, you can call me that," he laughed. "But what do I call you?"
"I prefer to be referred to as ‘Your Highness’, though Queen Debbie works, too."
"You gave that away so easily," he quipped.
"What can I say, I’m easy," she smirked, turning her stool around playfully and spinning into his leg.
The two conversed over several rounds of drinks, splitting the immense bill when they were finally sobered enough to find their wallets and remember their room numbers. Walking down the corridor that housed their eerily close lodgings, Danny turned to Debbie and paused in his tracks.
"Would you like to come inside?" he asked, as though he were a tender child inviting his first crush over for cookies and milk.
"I’d like that," Debbie stated without hesitation.
* * * * *
The room began to spin and tilt, as if she were on a carnival ride though she knew she was sitting comfortably on a stationary seat.
"I don’t feel so good," Jenna frowned, glancing over to where Jerry was sitting.
"Are you okay?" Jerry asked, hopping up and sitting alongside her, placing his hand in hers for assurance.
"I’m not sure," she sighed, "The room feels like it’s spinning."
"Let’s take you to lay down," Jerry offered, rising and keeping his hand locked tightly around hers.
Jerry took her hand and lead her to the back lounge. As she walked through the dusty blue curtain that marked the onset of the band’s sleeping quarters, Jenna thought she heard some of the guys snickering up front.
"I really feel sick," Jenna whined.
"Can you walk? Do you need me to carry you?"
Jerry looked concerned.
She felt him half carry, half drag her into the room in the back area of the tour bus. It was well illuminated, and she thought she made out a video game being played on the giant screen tv.
"Everybody get out," Jerry demanded.
Techs scurried to put game controllers away, and girls stashed dime bags in their purses as the back area slowly began to filter toward the front. Jenna wasn’t sorry to see them go, nor did she regret having time alone with Jerry.
"Lay down here," Jerry offered, and cleared a sofa section for Jenna to recline on. She clumsily fell onto the seat, sliding her legs over the wooden edge and onto the comfortable cushions marking the bench area.
"Are you alright?" he asked again.
* * * * *
Her body began to return to an equilibrium familiar to her, and she rose off the bed and stumbled toward the door that would bring her one step closer to her own room and the safe confines of a bed in which she could sleep alone.
"Are you sure you’re alright?" he questioned, placing his sturdy arm reassuringly around her waist as they walked.
Jenna smiled weakly. "Yes, don’t worry about me."
"Call me,"Jerry whispered into her ear, and he handed her the key she’d dropped, smiling and turning to head back to his own hotelroom.
* * * * *
The hour was entirely unclear to Jenna, though the sound was all too familiar: a door was shutting somewhere in the room.
"That has got to be the best sex I have ever had," Debbie sighed and nearly sang to her friend. "That man has got a cock on him."
Jenna frowned. This was more than she needed to know about the aforementioned male.
"Have you ever been with a guy that had a tongue like a butterfly?" she continued, though Jenna had stopped listening. "He just made me cum over and over and over."
"You said that about that drummer in that band we saw in April," the brunette offered.
"This is different."
"And that guitarist in that band Sad Fame."
"He wasn’t attractive, though."
Her friend grimaced.
"Jenna, I’m talking BEST SEX OF MY LIFE, and I’ve had a LOT of sex, you know."
"I know," Jenna sighed, and continued and returned her head to the pillow it longed to reside on.
"Is something wrong?" Debbie inquired.
Jenna dismissed her concern, assured Debbie that everything was fine and that all she needed was sleep.
* * * * *
What she could remember of that night had seemed so innocent: from Jerry’s invitation to Debbie’s fascination with the drummer. She could remember entire conversations, quotes, and picture what every one was wearing. Why could she not remember this one thing?
"Run through what you remember, maybe it’ll come to you," Debbie offered, concerned but not affected.
"It’s pointless," Jenna frowned.
"Why? If you can remember exactly what Danny said to you at the bar that first night, the words Jerry uttered into your ear as we left...Why can’t you remember what happened in that lounge?"
"I don’t know," she huffed. "I try but I can’t."
"Start at the beginning," Debbie prodded, nestling into a leopard cushioned chair across from Jenna’s bed.
"Let me see," Jenna started. "We left here around 8PM, got to the club around 9PM, right?"
"That’s about what I’d say."
"We each had a soda and waited for the bands to start..."
Debbie interjected. "Don’t forget the two hotties that were flirting with us by the pool tables."
"Yeah, there was them, and then the band came on," Jenna sighed. "I just remember waking up this morning in pain. I was in Jerry’s hotelroom and I don’t know how I got there....I’m not a slut, Debbie," she began to cry.
"Can you remember anything else," Debbie encouraged.
"I’m not sure I want to."
"I hurt, Debbie," Jenna cried. "Like...." her voice trailed off.
"After rough sex?"
Jenna’s tears burst from her, the girl curled into a tight ball and rocked back and forth on her bed. Debbie joined her friend on the bed, hugging her in comfort and support.
"You don’t think...?" Jenna asked, scared, afraid of the answer Debbie might offer.
"They raped you? Jenna, I don’t know," Debbie sighed. She wanted to tell her friend no, why would a group of men who could have any woman they wanted need to force themselves upon anyone; though her love for her best friend got the better of her and she kept her mouth shut.
Jenna loosened her grip on Debbie and stared at her friend. Eyes puffy and cheeks red, she offered, "Would they do something like that? Oh god, Debbie, tell me they wouldn’t do something like that."
Debbie was silent.
"I don’t know, Jenna. I don’t know."
"I thought you knew them?" Jenna returned to sobbing. "I thought I could trust them?"
* * * * *
The nightmare was constant and recurring. No details ever changed.
"Jenna? Jenna, are you okay?" Jerry asked, standing over the unconscious female.
"Dave, come here," he yelled.
"She’s out, man, finally," the scrawny guitarist responded, entering the back lounge to stand alongside his bandmate.
The males stood, staring at the helpless female. They watched as her breathing evened out and she began to toss and turn lightly.
"She won’t remember anything, will she?" Jerry asked, nervously.
"Dude, I told you. I’ve used this shit before; they never remember a thing," was the response he received.
Jenna felt someone enter her from behind and place his weight on top of her. His thrusts were hurried and voracious, each forward stroke driving her head lightly into the wooden arm of the bench she lay pinned down on.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he panted into her ear.
She felt someone tug on her hair.
"Suck it, bitch."
She was faintly aware of the presence of a cock in front of her face, though she made no move to obey his command.
"I said suck it," Dave said with anger, and slammed her head roughly against the wooden bench.
Oral sex had been foreign to her; in fact, she was still a virgin in many ways. She stared blankly at the penis in front of her, noticing the bumps and bulges of its veins and the pink scabs that covered the skin in various patches across its short length. He pushed it to her lips, and Jenna opened to allow its passage, unaware of how to proceed further to obey the overhanging command.
"Roll your tongue around," he offered, then began to laugh. "Fuck, Jerr, I think this bitch is a virgin."
There was no answer.
"Jerry?" the victim whispered, groggily.
He responded by driving into her with a more aggressive thrust and a faster tempo.
"Jerry, please stop, you’re hurting me," she whined.
"Shut up," Dave barked.
The young female lay crying.
"Suck it harder, cunt," the guitarist barked.
Suddenly, Jerry pulled out and shot his cum all over Jenna’s ass. She felt it pool on her lower back, and she turned to face in the male’s direction.
"Look at it run down her ass, man," Jerry scoffed. "What a hot bitch."
For the first time that night, she caught a glance of Jerry’s dick. Her stomach turned as she realized it had just violated her, ripping into her most secretive parts, unwanted, bringing harm. It wasn’t exceptionally large, close to 5'’ at best, though it was extremely thick around, perhaps as wide as her wrist, she surmised.
"On your knees," Jerry demanded.
Jenna glared at him, but made no move. She felt unable to control her muscles, paralyzed by fear, intoxicated by whatever it was the men had slipped into her drink.
Jerry grabbed her, dislodging David’s cock from her oral cavity in the process. He pulled her to her knees, her dress above her waist, her still covered chest resting on the ledge of the bench.
"Let’s lose this," Dave stated, tearing the silken fabric of Jenna’s dress from her 110 pound frame.
"And this," Jerry smiled, raising her bra over her chest.
The pair stood and eyed their handiwork.
"She’s beautiful," Dave sighed. "Too bad we can’t keep her around."
The audacity of the thought propelled the males into laughter.
"She’ll be back," Jerry quipped.
The brunette kneeled behind Jenna, teasing her nipples with his fingers, burying his nose in her neck and equally brunette locks.
"This might hurt," he whispered.
Jenna cried, mewing, "No, please, no."
She knew it was hopeless. She felt Jerry’s fingers push into her asshole, probing her insides and stretching her for his next invasion.
"NO!" she screamed
"Shut the fuck up," Dave shouted, smacking the young girl across the face. He had seated himself on the bench in front of Jenna, the perfect location to have Jenna continue with her oral pleasuring.
Jenna whimpered. Behind her she felt Jerry adding another finger to his onslaught with each successive moment. Before her, Dave sat stroking his now fully erect cock.
"I’m saving this for you," Dave smiled.
She glanced upward, peering into his once kind, gentle eyes. The male’s demeanor was now filled with lust, his eyes reflecting a cold promise that Jenna’s night would not soon be over.
"Try not to tense up," Jerry whispered, blowing into her ear as men often did when courting a willing female specimen.
The pain she felt as he began to apply pressure from behind her was immense, tears coursed down her cheeks, her hands gripped the bench ledge tightly. "Please, stop," she heard herself say, though Jerry never paused or let up.
"Oh fuck," he panted. "She is tight!"
Dave laughed. "I told you, man, she’s a fuckin virgin."
Jerry continued to inch into Jenna’s ass, adding about an inch every passing minute. When it felt like he’d been applying pressure for an hour, he stopped, and Jenna felt his pubic hair press against her ass.
"I’m in," he panted. "Fuck, Jenna, fuck. Does it hurt?"
The girl cried. She’d ceased clinging to the bench and taken the hands that Dave offered her. She grasped onto the sitting male tightly, and lay her head between his thighs. Her eyes rolled and her breath came uneasily. Her small pupils focused on Jerry behind her, and she whispered, "Yes, oh god, yes," unsure of what he had expected her to retort.
"I’ll let you get used to it," he stated as though he were doing her some great favor.
"Please, please, take it out," she cried. "It hurts so bad, it’s so big."
Jerry and his bandmate laughed. "I’ve always prided myself on having a decent wang," Jerry quipped and rubbed the girl’s back.
"Ready?" he laughed, knowing the girl would never be ready for what she was about to experience.
"Please," Jenna whimpered.
"Go to it," Dave laughed, giving Jerry the signal to begin removing his dick from the girl’s rosebud.
"No, no, no," she sputtered as she tossed her head from side to side.
Just as she began to wonder if perhaps it might be all over, Jerry drove himself back into her roughly and pulled right back out. He began repeating the thrusts in rapid succession, as he had only moments before in her swollen vagina.
"Hurts," she heaved.
Dave laughed, though he continued to rub his thumbs over the flesh of her grasping hands. He could tell she was in pain, and it brought a tingle to his pulsing cock.
The whole of the event lasted approximately ten minutes. Jerry withdrew his hard knob after he’d cum inside Jenna’s ass, cum spewing out of the attacked orifice and dripping down the girls bruised thighs.
"Fuck that’s sexy," Dave muttered as Jenna touched a finger to her thigh, unsure of what was gliding down her supple flesh.
"Oh my god," she cried.
"Chill out," Jerry laughed as he toweled himself off.
Dave guided the kneeling girl into his lap, placing her face just inches from his own. "I want you," he smiled calmly, assuringly to the brunette.
She felt his hand underneath them, rubbing his glistening cock and parting her labia to allow him entrance into her already violated genitalia.
"Sit down," he instructed her.
She did so, accepting of the fact that for tonight, she was their fucktoy.
Dave raised her up, then slammed her back down several times; impaling her on his unit. He wasn’t nearly as thick as his bandmate, though the males were equal in length. As she rode his cock, she listened to the sounds of Jerry’s breathing, heavy and close, somewhere behind her in the lounge.
"Oh shit," she heard him mutter. "Oh shit, I’m hard again."
She understood what that meant for her, and the thought of once again being violated brought a large tear to the corner of her right eye.
"Lean forward," she heard him say as he pushed her breasts straight toward Dave’s face.
The blonde’s lips opened to accept her large pink nipple, and she felt Jerry’s hands run across her exposed backside once again.
"Oh god," she thought, "He’s not going to do that again."
Jerry began to push, impossibly, into her ass. The pain of having a cock inside both her holes renewed Jenna’s cries and screams. She tried to calm herself as Dave placed his hand over her mouth, though she was unable to cease her mews altogether.
Both males pushed in and out of her for what seemed like an eternity. Her body was exhausted and her ass felt on fire from the reaming that Jerry was giving it. The feeling of Dave’s cock pushing her walls even tighter around Jerry’s rod would have, under any other circumstances, been an extreme turn-on to Jenna. Unfortunately, however, the situation was beyond her control, and not what she had wanted. The pain of the males pounding her in time, together- Jerry impaling her on Dave, Dave impaling her on Jerry- was more than she could bare at the current moment.
"Jesus christ," she heard a man state. "What the fuck?"
She could not turn herself enough to see over Jerry’s large frame, though she was eye to eye with David when he yelled, "Danny, get the fuck out of here."
The drummer stood for a moment, watching the threesome, and turned to exit the lounge. A few moments later, another of the bandmembers entered the room, and placed himself alongside the copulating trio.
"Fuck, guys," he smirked, "Why didn’t you call me?"
Jerry paused, lodging himself deep inside of Jenna and bringing a gentle shriek from the girl.
"We’ve been somewhat busy," was his response.
Jenna felt someone place themselves heavily onto the sofa alongside the copulating threesome. The pain she felt detracted from her desire to observe the latest participant, though, within a mere five minutes, she felt a hand pass over the curves of her stomach and caress her breasts from between Dave and herself.
"You getting in on this, dude?" the guitarist questioned.
"I’m watching," came the slow drawl of the mystery male.
Jenna’s eyes turned toward her left long enough to distinguish the band’s second guitarist, Michael, who’d been Debbie’s first conquest of the early afternoon.
"Please help me," she begged pathetically, hoping to find an ally in this newest participant.
The warm brown eyes were frozen into a cold stare as they met her own, equally brown irises, and she heard him laugh cruelly as he smiled and winked at her from his position on the sofa. Her eyes pleaded with him for a few fleeting moments, though as the male removed his hardened cock from inside the tightness of his black jeans, she understood that he would not be her savior.
"Where’d you find her?" he questioned as he stroked himself in plain view of Jenna and his bandmates.
Jenna cried out with pain as Jerry shot into her asshole once more, pulled out, and answered his bandmate as though they were sharing Sunday tea. "She’s the little bitch that I was with last night, remember? I gave her the room number and put her and her friend on the list?"
"The slut friend?"
"She was a fuckin whore," muttered the male, his breath coming in heaving gusts as he continued to bring himself toward climax. "Sucked my cock then moved onto Brian."
His smile grew.
"And you know what that means."
"That she got it like this one got it," Dave laughed, raising Jenna off of his lap and cumming all over her milky thighs.
"Come here," Mike uttered, crooking his finger and gesturing toward Jenna.
She made no move to obey.
"Come here, woman," he repeated.
She found comfort in the fact that he had not chosen other nouns that his bandmates used so passively, but all the same, she felt no desire to partake in the events that the guitarist was demanding her participation in.
His hand reached to take hers, the firm grip guiding her down onto her knees in front of his opened legs. She knew what he wanted, though her brain was seemingly not reacting or processing the information it was receiving.
"Suck it," he moaned, his hand still gripping the long shaft.
"Please don’t make me," she pleaded but to no avail.
As her lips met the tip of the offered cock, Mike’s orgasm peaked, his hand jerked free, and he shot his load onto Jenna’s pink lips and curled eyelashes.
"Jesus Christ, guys," she heard a familiar voice utter.
"Would you get lost, man?" Jerry demanded.
"Her friend keeps asking for her," the intruder retorted, "What the fuck am I supposed to tell her? That you’ve got the girl fucked up on roofies and your banging her in every hole she’s got?"
Jenna’s vision was failing her in ways she’d never known before, but she made out the outline of the male in the doorway. Her aching muscles offered up what little energy they had left, and she began to crawl toward the intruding male.
"Please," she squeaked, though Jerry grabbed her by the hair before she could even grasp the black shoe that she’d aimed for.
"Fuck, guys, FUCK," he muttered.
"Danny, fucking get lost," Dave ordered, pulling his t-shirt and laminate back over his mass of blond curls.
Jenna heard a groveling and then the door slammed. Her heart sank, realizing her one and only hope was for a rescue from Danny and he’d just abandoned her.
"No ones coming to help you," Dave laughed, running his worn hands through Jenna’s knotted locks.
"Don’t taunt her, man," Jerry muttered as he scribbled something onto a small sheet of paper and handed it to Mike, who was now clothed and waiting by the small oak door.
"Let her go, guys," Mike sighed. "Her friends gonna come looking for her."
None of the men made any move to gather Jenna’s tattered dress and fix up the battered female. As she curled up into a ball, hiding in the corner of the sofa, the room began to blur again and she lost her orientation and the world went black.
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