HardCoreJaz Interviews No. 01

"There they go," I wink to the lens and then look back to the blonde guitar player expectantly.

"You little slut," he almost growls. Then he pulls me into him by my hips and kisses me hard before rather impatiently turning me around and gruffly positioning me on my knees, ass to him. When he lets go to undo his pants, I take a moment to check the framing of the shot in the camera. We're a little off center and my head is partially out of the picture on the right, unless I crane my neck back, but I'm in no real position to fix it. His belt buckle clinks open for his thick cock to flop out and he lines himself up with me, flicking his glans up and down my entrance, hidden by the roundness of my fleshy booty. "You want me to fuck you baby? You want this big cock?" he teases. For the first time, the concern is noticeable in my expression.

"Well I admit you got me kinda worked up. Are you going to be nice to me?" I ask.

"Oh, fuck baby, I want you so bad," he groans, gripping my hips firmly. "You ready to get fucked, baby?"

"Mmmm," I sigh in anticipation and gently rock back towards him. "Mm-hmmmm." A short gasp escapes my mouth as he pierces me and my mouth opens to a distinct O as his shaft sinks in. "Ahhhh, hehehe," I blush as I wink bashfully at the camera. Slowly, he fucks me with just his tip. Then after a couple of seconds, he starts giving me more and more of his eight inches, gradually picking up the pace.

"Oh, my god, Jaz. Fuck, you're so tight baby," he groans. With his guiding hands on my hips I begin to subtly rock on my knees to take him, the camera clearly capturing his pale stalk disappearing behind the curve of my brown ass. His eyes close as we fall into a rhythm. "Oh, fuck that's so good baby. You like it rough?" he asks gently.

"You can go harder," I breathe. "I'm certainly wet enough." The flesh of my booty squishes and shapes each time that he presses in. I toss my bundle of locks aside and my heavy breath vents from my open mouth as my eyelids flutter. Then he starts to pull back harder on my hips and push himself in faster.

"Oh, fuck. You like that baby?" he prompts me.

"Mm-hmm," I sigh as he starts to bang me proper. Then he palms me with a big loud spank and I flinch in surprise. "Ahh!"

"Oh my God, that's so good," he moans. Kent continues to sheath in and out of me, probing my depths but I still have questions. As far as I'm concerned, the interview is still on.

"So ... ungh ... you're a ... uhh ... lead guit ... ar play - er ..." I proceed while he fucks me. "How much .. ungh ... do you ... ah ... contri ... bute to ... uhh ... the song ... rm ... wri-ting ... uhh ... process ... ohhh."

"What?" he says breathlessly before seemingly cluing in. "Uhh, I mean ..." he starts to answer between pumps. "We all write music ... but I'm the only one who writes lyrics." His pace picks up some more and the slap of his hips on my ass grows louder and clearly audible on the recording as each impact ripples my fleshy thighs.

"Mmm, ahh," I whimper, my lungs filling with heavy panting breaths. "Well then, umm, uh ... tell me about ... ohh yea ... ohhh ... yours-song ... Unlucky ... mnhh," I gasp blurting out the syllables between thrusts. "Which you are ... ungh ... definite ... ly ... not right now, haha," I joke. Then I toss my head back and arch my spine causing my dreadlocks to flop across my back.

"Unlucky?" he says without disrupting his motion. "Uhh, what the fuck," he whispers. "Uhh, I guess at the start ... it was tough to book gigs 'cause we didn't want to sacrifice what we felt ..." Kent manages to get out before laying another spank upon me. I yelp and flinch again. "What we felt was our integrity, I guess. We never though it would work. "Oh fuck, that's so good baby."

"Oh yeahh," I breathe, almost whispery as his hot bare shaft stabs into me with no protection at all, exiting and repeating. "So ... ungh ... the lyrics ... uh ... to that ... song ... ahh ... are 'bout ... ngh ... your ... early days ... ohh ... as a band?"

"Sharp," he starts, but pauses to slap me a third time. I tighten and my eyes pinch shut, before being jostled out of the frame and back in again. "Sharp Glass?" he breathes heavily. "Holy fuck, bitch. Oh, uhh that was just about sort of the pain we all went through ... It felt like people ... fuck that's good ... It felt like people didn't believe in us ... It hurt like hell," he says and spanks me again. This time I grit my teeth and bear it. "Kinda like that," he explains and applies more force to his thrusts.

"Ohh ... ungh ... Iwasaskingabou ..." I continue, trying to get in as many syllables on one ragged breath, his banging and my own growing trembles putting a shake in my voice. Clearly, in his state of carnal lust, he has his song titles mixed up. "Ngghh ... Unlucky," I blurt almost breathlessly. "But whatevs, all good," I chuckle. Then I crane my neck around to see if the whiskey bottle is nearby, but I see it just out of reach. "Nexquestion ... ah ... howdoyoulike ... unhh ... agirlriding ... mnh ... inyourlap?" Kent laughs casually and takes a breath before responding.

"Well ... why don't you see for yourself?" he huffs, then pulls out of me, causing me a visible quiver as his thick member bobs free and rigid while he shifts his position. Grabbing the whiskey and sitting on the couch, Kent smiles my way and sips from the bottle, one hand still resting on my ass. "Hop on, rocker girl," he teases. "Go for a ride and see how I like it."

Nervously I laugh while he gets comfortable. Then I stand and my skirt falls back into place. I try to straighten my top and then realize with another anxious chuckle that I might as well just tug the front knot open, exposing my black bra. Then I take the waist of Kent's jeans and tug them down past his knees to drop to his boots. With my right leg I step onto the couch and then pull up my left to kneel astride him, my bracelets jingling with my movements. We're face to face now, my back to the camera, my hoop belt on display. Finally, I reach down between us, my dark hand standing his white meat up while I shift my hips to prod him into my entrance with a subtle gasp.

"God damn, Jaz. You're the sexiest groupie I've ever seen," he says in his teasing tone, raising one hand and resting it on the bare skin right above my hip. Then he lifts the bottle of whiskey to my mouth with one hand as he pulls me down onto his cock with the other. "Fuck, that is so hot," he breathes, his face now obscured from view by my body and as I slip deeper down his muscle he lets out a low moan. "That is so fucking good. You're so tight baby."

Tilting my head back, my bundle of dreads dangles down my back and brushes my skirt. I let him pour, but its a lot of straight booze even for me and my cheeks puff out before it overflows and runs down my face and chest. I grab the bottle and stop the flow as I swallow and laugh.

"Hahaha ... mmm," I sigh as his dick disappears under the tattered hem of my skirt. Once hitting bottom I begin to slowly grind myself on him, trying to mash my clit on something. My ass rocks back and forth in his lap. "So this reminds me," I continue the interview as I hold up the bottle and briefly bend my neck back at the camera, blushing. My face looks a bit greasy, as if I'm sweating. "Could you tell me about the song Bourbon Whiskey?" KB laughs lightly between sighs.

"I like bourbon," he says shortly, before leaning forward and licking the spilled whiskey from my neck and following it up with a quick kiss. The tickling sensation of his tongue on my skin elicits a chuckle from me. One of his hands then guides my hips while his other reaches in to work my clit, but the camera can't see that.

"Mmmm," I sigh softly as he braces my pelvis in it's rocking motion. Then my hips twitch and I gasp sharply.

"It was my Dad's drink of choice too. That's it. Holy fuck, that feels good," he adds before leaning forward to suck a little more whiskey from my neck. "But the song is basically meant to be a 'fuck you' to that abusive prick," he says and the camera catches a glimpse of his eyes smiling at me from over my shoulder. "But I can totally relate to the kind of trouble bourbon can get you in," he says playfully, smacking my ass once more, sending a jolt up my spine.

"Trouble like this," I manage to say as I wrap my arms sweetly around him and press his face to my chest while my thighs begin to flex to bend my knees and work myself slowly up and down the thick meat of his shaft.

"Fuck," he grunts. "Exactly like that," he says, and gives my ass a light squeeze. His lips can be heard kissing my chest among my hot breath and quiet sighs. Then his hand slips up the back of my very loose top and unclasps my bra. "Mm, keep going bitch," he teases me, matching my pace and thrusting up to meet me every time that I come down.

My right bra strap drops off my shoulder with the sleeve of my top in tow to gather in the crook of my elbow, leaving my heart-in-barbs tatt in full view. He speeds up and I do my best to keep pace, although there are some awkward frantic moments with my jittery hips. My hand slips into the hair on the back of his head as I let out a disjointed sigh of passion. "Oh yeah," I whisper.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps. I'm bouncing in his lap quite quickly now, my trail of locks dancing about and a quiet clink-clink-clink emanating from the hoops in my belt. Kent's hands slip up my legs to brace my hips, lifting up my skirt enough to expose the bottom of my olive-skinned ass to the camera and his gleaming white shaft sopping slick with my juices, disappearing up between the lens' first glimpse of my my dark parted lips, and re-emerging, rapidly repeatedly as he forces me down into his thrusts. "God damn," he grunts. "Yeah, you like getting fucked rough by rock stars?" he asks breathlessly. "Fuck, you're so hot baby."

"Uhh, ohh, ohh," I whimper and pant as he fucks me. "Oh, mm," I gasp. "Justlikethat ... Don'tstophhh ..."

"Fuck yeah, you like that don't you, bitch," he teases me again as he releases my hips to grope my ass. Then without warning, he stops, lifts and twists me to flop into missionary on the couch. I yelp softly as my body bounces on the cushions, my dreadlock bundle flopping out behind me off the left edge of the frame and my small dark copper nipple pokes erect at the fine lace edge of its loosened cup as my chest rises and falls with the ebb and flow of my heavy breath. We're laid out in landscape profile to the camera now, and with my top hanging ragged and open the Punjabi text inked down my ribcage is fairly legible. Kent lays atop me, bracing my body for leverage with his big hand on my head. He begins to pound me, the impacts sending jolts through my spine that ripple the flesh on my thighs and clap out loud and clear for the recording. "Fuck yes," he moans, staring down into my eyes. "My little fucking fan girl slut," he grunts nearly inaudible as he shoves himself inside me.

"Slut for you, just tonight," I pant with a nervous grin.

It's obscured by our bodies but Kent wedges one of his arms between us to thumb my clit again, although in this position it's difficult and less effective. Still it's enough to make my spine suddenly arch and I gasp aloud. Then his mouth descends upon my nipple and suckles. The flesh of my small breast stretches and works about, causing me to twist in pleasure as his tongue and teeth work it obscured within his lips. Then it snaps back into shape as he releases it to savagely suck and kiss my neck while I writhe about beneath him.

"Where should I cum?" he whispers hoarsely into my ear as he grinds me with each deep stroke.

"Hmmm-mm-mmm" I whimper between ragged breaths that raise and sink my chest. "Idon'tcare," I gasp, hissing the words out all at once. "Just ... mmnh ... keepfuckingmetill you cuhhh ..." Then my breath becomes a quick uneven panting and my neck cranes back, mouth open and my thighs lift to wrap gently around his torso.

"Holy fuck, Jaz!" he cries out as he quickens the pace again, slamming away at my pussy, clinking all of my jewellery. With my thighs raised, his swinging sac is clearly visible, occasionally even the shadow of his shaft beneath us. "Holy shit! I'm gonna fucking cum!" he blurts as his pace increases and strokes shorten. My earring sways back and forth like a pendulum. "Fuck, you're so God damn tight baby! I'm gonna cum inside you," he cries out, staring down at me.

My left hand swarms in his hair, messing it about while my right clutches his butt to feel it flex as he fucks me. Pulling his head down cheek to cheek, my mouth gasps wide for breath next to his ear. Then my body softens and I whimper a sweet descending falsetto "Ohhhh-ohhh," and hold him close as his hips continue to rock, slower and more languid. It's obvious now that he's filled me.

"Oh my God," he gasps, breathing heavily as he collapses on top of my body. "Jesus Christ. That was incredible," his muffled words find my ear while his hand smooths and strokes the wild black tuft of my bangs, pressing them down my temple.

My breaths are still terribly deep but are slowing as I recover. Occasionally I sigh in exhaustion. I laugh, small and nervous, then a grin creeps across my lips when I realize what we just did - on camera. With a glance towards the lens, I can't help but laugh a little bolder, but still blushing. After another minute or so, I huff aloud. "Whew." Then I run my fingers through his hair again, straightening it somewhat, and peck him playfully on the lips. "I suppose I should wrap this up then?" I suggest as I lift my head as a signal that I'd like to crawl out and sit up. Kent smiles down at me, then presses up off the couch to let me up.

"Jesus," he says, rubbing his eyes. "That was fucking wild. You really are punk rock," he adds, smiling my way, but with brow furrowed in curious scrutiny. "Hope you got everything you needed," he says playfully. "I know I sure as hell did."

"Haha," I laugh genuinely as I sit myself up, unintentionally flashing a brief view of my trimmed black bush as I adjust my skirt, careful so that nothing leaks out of me and onto it before draping it over my lap for modesty and sitting back down. Then I push my chest forward to reach behind and refasten my brassiere and my tits squish and jiggle about while I tuck them back into place, leaving my top open and my shoulders bare. Still catching my breath I lean against him, my cheek on his shoulder, and smile fondly at the camera. My voice is languid soft and playful as I begin to speak.

"Hey, this is HardCoreJaz interviewing Kent Burton of Crafted. Hope you enjoyed it. I did," I wink and lift my hand to flutter my fingers in a wave. Then my eyes raise to him. "We should do this again next time you're in town." KB smiles at the camera while I do my signoff, then turns to me. He reaches down to find the whiskey where it fell and takes a long savoring sip, then holds it out for me to take.

"There's plenty of space on the tour bus," he says. "I'm sure we could find a seat for you, if that's what you want."

"I'm ... soooo fucked up right now, you have no idea," I grin as I slump my weight against him and the picture quickly fades black.