Rocker Girl Ch. 06

The Imperial-Orpheus Bar in Helena, Montana was a big converted theatre. The floor seats had been replaced with tables and long bars on either side of the auditorium, but the balcony was intact. It had a real stage, sound system and a house engineer. Normally Nancy and Jame would have worked with him, but they needed some urgent "private sister time." I'm good at connecting equipment and turning knobs, but they're the technical ones. Janis and Gurl helped me set up, then split for a hot afternoon in bed. Fortunately, Matt the engineer was sweet, cool and competent. He quickly made his connections between our mixer/recorder and the house sound. It only took a few minutes to get everything working perfectly.

I sang into the mics, banged the drums, plugged the old Fender Precision I use when she's on sax into Gurl's rig, played the keyboards, tested Jame's Pod, and finally hooked up to my amp through the wireless. My guitar sound echoing from the auditorium was awe inspiring. Matt turned the stage lights on and the house lights down. I stood at the edge of the stage, imagining everyone in the packed house staring up at me as I soloed. We weren't really expecting big crowds. The bar booked national acts once or twice a week. Fishnet Barbie was opening for that week's name band and playing from 8:00 PM to 1:00 AM on the other nights.

"I love your guitar playing. You're really good," Matt said when I finally took a break. I get edgy without my guitar, and we'd been apart for 36 hours. "It's a beautiful guitar, too."

My baby! A Paul Reed Smith Modern Eagle with a quilted emerald top. Mom and Dad gave it to me on my 18th birthday. We'd gone to a fancy restaurant. Back at home, we drank a little wine and I dutifully expressed my gratitude as they presented me with typical boring gifts. Finally, Dad handed me a little envelope. Inside was a scrap of paper reading "Look in your bedroom." My Epiphone Les Paul was gone and the PRS was in the guitar stand.

I played all night. Mom and Dad stayed with me for a while, but soon drifted away. At dawn, I switched the amp off, put the Modern Eagle in its stand and stepped out of my clothes, letting them fall to the floor. Even unplugged, the guitar was calling. Moments later, I was lying naked on the bed with the solid body pressed against my loins and the graceful neck rubbing my breasts. My fingers stroking the strings produced a soft silvery sound. It was so sensual . . . I fell asleep cradling my new baby in my arms.

Matt and I talked guitars and amps for a while, then he asked about the band. Matt was impressed that we'd set Fishnet Barbie up as a business. We'd persuaded our parents to finance the tour. Halfway through, the loan was almost paid back and we had a big mailing list for the live CD we were assembling from our performances.

Each of us had band jobs. Janis did our graphics, including our stunning leggy "Fishnet Barbie Cartoon Babe" logo. She also handled tour logistics. Nancy and Jame were our technicians and recording engineers. Gurl was webmaster and wrote most of our blog entries. I handled the business and financial stuff.

Matt told me a little about himself, too. As well as being the sound engineer, he was part owner of the Imperial-Orpheus. His wife did the bookings and I'd talked to her on the phone. He was cute, in his early 40s with a beard and thinning hair. "Have you named your guitar?" he suddenly asked. I wasn't playing, but I was still holding it, my left hand curled possessively around its neck.

"I just call him 'Baby,'" I answered. "I say 'him' but Baby is both male and female; a hard masculine body with gentle feminine curves." PRS guitar bodies have two horns. The longer upper horn has the strap button at its tip. My right hand was stroking the gracefully phallic lower horn. "The neck is rampant male while the strings are female erogenous zones. They seem to be tied to my pussy. I've had orgasms while playing." Matt was staring. Too much information? No, he was getting turned on.

"The guitar electronics, amp and effects are all intellectual and guy thing," I continued. "Shaping my sound with the knobs is all feel - all woman. And those times when emotion takes over and I transcend technique . . ." I was really getting hot and Matt had a big bulge in his jeans. "Inspiration and magic are for both sexes . . . like making love . . . you and the instrument . . . you and the music . . ." That's when Matt kissed me.

We kissed for a long time, with Baby pressed between our bodies. Matt finally stepped back and pulled a video camera out of his toolbox. "Can I film you playing?" Of course.

The Fishnet Barbie girls always dress up when performing. Offstage, I'm pretty casual, generally wearing a thin breast-clinging nipple-revealing top and tight frayed blue jeans. Today, I'd traded the jeans for a long denim skirt. "I look pretty good for a video," I thought.

We put a jam CD on and I started dancing around the stage, playing along. My world narrowed to the music, Baby . . . and Matt, his lust barely restrained as he followed me with the camera. I was so hot. "Come here," I commanded. "I want to tell you a secret." As he focused on my face, I said, "The guitar strings are tied to my clitoris." I played a blues lick, moaning ecstatically as I bent the last note. "See?"

I played the lick again, stepping back as Matt reached for me. "We were playing in Yellowstone. During a solo, Baby and I started fucking and I had an orgasm on stage. I was also thinking about a man I'd just met. I haven't come again that way, but every time I play Baby, it's like making love."

A new song started on the sound system. A slow blues. Perfect. I arched my back and rubbed the guitar neck over my breasts as I played. I knew my swollen nipples were clearly outlined through my thin tank top. I slipped out of the strap and played Baby between my legs with his neck sticking out like a giant erection.

"Take the guitar," I commanded. Matt held it in one hand while continuing to tape. I unfastened my skirt and let it fall to the stage floor, leaving me dressed in my black tank top and matching panties. "Look how wet I am," I said, opening my legs. The thin fabric stretched over my vulva was soaked.

"Give me Baby," I said as I sank to my knees on my skirt. I held him between my legs, no longer trying to play, but rubbing his upper horn against my slit through my slippery panties. "Jesus Baby!" I moaned, rolling onto my back and pulling my panties aside. I reversed the guitar and rubbed Baby's lower horn along my wet slit, gradually forcing it open, stimulating my clit and pussy lips. "Fuck!" I whispered. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

I stopped at the ragged edge of orgasm and lay still for a long minute with my chest heaving and heart pounding. I put Baby in his stand, tore my panties off and stood staring at Matt. There was no question about what he wanted. There was an immense bulge in his pants. "Give me the camera." I ordered. "Strip for me." I admired his athletic chest and flat belly as he removed his T-shirt. I continued filming as he stepped out of his jeans.

"Sure you're ready for this?" he asked teasingly, pausing with his hands on the waistband of his jockey shorts. "I'm almost as big as your guitar."

"Yeah!" My voice was thick with desire. Matt had the biggest cock I'd ever seen, nine hard thick inches. Freed from his shorts, it snapped to full erection in seconds. He stroked his shaft and rubbed his cock head with one hand while squeezing his balls with the other. "Wow!" I said, aiming the camera. "Please beat off, but don't cum. Save that for me."

"It's so hot watching him work that monster cock." The woman's voice floated from the dark auditorium. I was so startled I almost dropped the camera.

Matt continued masturbating as the tall slender woman with ash-blond hair climbed onto the stage. She was slightly younger than Matt and just as sexy. "Tracy, this is my wife Lyta," he said calmly. "She likes to watch."

"It was fun seeing you get off with your guitar," Lyta said. She was wearing a skirt and an unbuttoned blouse. "I can't wait to see you ride Matt's cock, if it's not too big for you."

I dodged as she reached for the camera. "Were you playing with yourself in the dark?" She nodded. "Let's see." She lifted her skirt and pulled her panties aside. I filmed her slipping two fingers up her juicy snatch. "Yummy!" I finally said, handing her the camera. "Do you like girls? Good! Maybe later."

Matt removed my tank top and took me in his arms. We kissed passionately as I rubbed my breasts against his muscular chest. I grabbed his right hand and guided it between my legs. His index finger slid smoothly up and down my slit, slowly teasing it open. He removed his hand and his cock took its place, rubbing my vulva, stimulating my clit and pussy lips. I twisted my pelvis, trying to catch his cock head in my vagina mouth.

"Lie down, Rocker Girl," he laughed as he picked me off my feet and laid me on the stage. "You're going to get what you want." As Lyta hovered over us with the camera, Matt positioned himself between my spread thighs. His flesh and blood cock was even larger than Super Bob or Janis and Gurl's strap-on dildo. I have big hands, but I couldn't close my thumb and index finger around it. I screamed softly in pain and excitement as his big head slowly stretched my pussy mouth and gradually slipped into my depths.

I clamped his thick shaft with my cunt muscles as I writhed on my back. It took him an erotic eternity to fill me completely. "Fuck her, Tom Cat!" Lyta growled. "Shove your monster prick all the way up that little girl snatch."

"God yes!" I gasped. "Your man's making me a real woman! . . . And you're all hot watching . . . filming . . . Take your skirt off. I want to see your cunt dripping!" I moaned with pleasure and excitement. Matt - Tom Cat - had finally reached bottom and I was working my muscles, rhythmically gripping and releasing him.

"Fair enough," Lyta answered, handing me the camera. I filmed her unfastening her skirt and removing her panties. "Soaking wet," she said, laying the panties over my mouth. I sucked the cloth. Her taste was darker and more exotic than Liz, Nancy or Jame's. "Now my shirt." Lyta wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were firm with excitement and her nipples were gigantic - as thick as dimes and half an inch long.

"Yeah!" Lyta continued. "I'm fucking hot watching Tom Cat screw a little rocker girl." She took the camera and stood straddling my head, focusing on Matt's penis gradually withdrawing from my pussy. "Rocker Girl, do you like my hot wet snatch?" I nodded. "So get acquainted," she said, kneeling and lowering her folds onto my face. I put my mouth against her pussy and thrust my tongue inside, sucking her exotic juices.

Matt was fucking me slowly. I squirmed and moaned with the pleasure of my body interacting with his giant cock. As his tempo increased, his big shaft tugged at my clit hood, pulling it over my swollen little bud. "Fuck!" I mumbled into Lyta's pussy. When I shifted my tongue to her clit, she quickly pulled away. Her grin as she moved to a new camera position told me there'd be more - much more - later.

Lyta moved around shooting as Tom Cat took me in every possible position; straight missionary (flat on my back with open legs), my knees lifted, my legs wrapped around his back and on his shoulders, doggie style with me on four and two legs, "no you can't fuck me there!", . . . I came over and over.

I was on top, riding his stallion, when Lyta put Baby into my arms. I stroked his strings to orgasm while bouncing on Tom Cat's cock.

Finally, I was on my back. Tom Cat was holding my ankles to spread my legs as he pounded my snatch. "I'm ready to cum," he gasped. "I'm going to pull out and shoot on your chest."

"No!" I protested. "Fill my cunt! . . . Please!" He'd been fucking me with fast hard strokes. Tom Cat suddenly stopped, remaining motionless for several seconds, before ramming me so hard my body shook. A thick hot jet of cum splashed my pussy walls. He pulled out and rammed me again. And again, with about one second between thrusts, shooting each time he hit bottom. It seemed he came forever and ever, making me cum along with him. "Holy fuck!" I whispered dreamily after he'd finally spent himself and lay still in my arms.

Lyta taped our tender kissing and cuddling, then captured the dramatic moment when Matt pulled his penis, softened but still gigantic, from my thoroughly-fucked pussy. "This is going to be a film classic," she said, tapping the camera affectionately. "Rocker Girl vs. the Monster Cock."

"Come on," she continued. "Let's go to the office and shoot the sequel."

One end of the office was a little sitting room, with a pair of overstuffed chairs facing a long couch. Lyta started making out with Matt as soon as we'd stepped in the door. "Tom Cat," she said, "Rocker Girl was so cruel, not letting you fuck her tight little teenage butt." He stiffened as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. "I've got a nice ass for you."

"That's great, Baby," Matt said as he pulled Lyta to him. "But I'm taking your cunt first." She moaned with pleasure as his cock slipped between her legs. They fucked standing in the middle of the floor as I filmed them.

After several minutes, Lyta pulled away from Matt, turned around and bent over with her hands on the couch. "I want your big cock up my ass now!" she announced. He spread her cheeks, exposing her pretty pink rosebud. It looked so tiny and delicate. It was wild watching Matt tease and open Lyta's sweet asshole with his tongue. When she was softly moaning with excitement, he dipped a finger into her hot wet pussy to lubricate it, then slid that finger into her butt. "Your finger feels good," she gasped, "but I need big hard cock."

"Tracy," Lyta continued. "There's a box on the closet shelf. Bring it here, please." It was a brass-bound wooden chest the size of a large shoebox. She reached into the chest and produced a tube of lubricant. "Here Tom Cat," she said, handing him the tube. "Get your cock greased."

Matt lubricated his penis and pressed it between Lyta's buttocks. Watching her tiny hole stretching to take his massive tool got me unbelievably hot. I wanted to put the camera down and join in, but I forced myself to keep filming. After his first few strokes, Matt went really fast, making a loud slapping noise each time his pelvis crashed into Lyta's buns. I held the camera in one hand, continuing to film as I played with my tits, pussy and clit.

I moved around, shooting from different angles; close-ups on Lyta's and Matt's faces, looking up between Lyta's legs at Matt's plunging cock and her bouncing breasts, his violently rolling buttocks and bouncing testicles, a close-up of his cock in her hole . . . I caught their expressions as he came in her ass. She kept him inside as she rammed fingers up her pussy, cumming almost immediately.

"Thanks, Tom Cat," Lyta said as he sat her on the couch. His erection had finally subsided, but his cock was still amazing. Matt stirred again when he saw me staring. I love cocks; soft, hard, fucking, peeing (I like to watch the fluid streaming from his tip, although I think water sports are gross) . . . cock feel . . . cock taste . . . I love cock, as long as it belongs to a man I respect.

"Come on, Rocker Girl," Lyta purred. "It's woman to woman time." Matt took the camera as I turned to Lyta. She was leaning back open-legged on the couch. I stared hungrily at her firm breasts and amazing hard nipples. They were almost cylindrical, dark pink with puffy rounded tops, the diameter of a dime and rising nearly 3/4" from her broad chocolate brown areola.

I stepped between her legs and bent over to kiss her full on the lips. Our mouths opened and our tongues danced. My fingers found her nipples and pinched them. She moaned with pleasure as I increased the pressure, pinching and twisting her swollen nipples even harder.

"No," Lyta said as I bent to kiss her breasts. "I need girl fucking . . . now!" She gripped my shoulders and pulled me to my knees. Juice was steadily trickling from her gaping pussy down between her buttocks and onto the couch. I dipped my tongue into the stream, once again savoring her dark and mysterious flavor.

She grabbed the back of my head and pulled my face to her vulva. Her juices splashed my lips, chin and cheeks as I drove my tongue deep into her cunt, almost overwhelmed with her intense female taste and feel.

"Come on!" Lyta said, pulling my mouth away from her pussy. Her clitoris was fully exposed, looking like a smaller version of her nipples. I caught her clit between my lips and sucked it roughly as I thrust two fingers into her cunt. She writhed on the couch, screaming in excitement as I worked my fingers in her pussy; thrusting deep and curving up, rotating my hand, stroking her lips with my thumb.

Her hips thrashed and I had to hold on to keep from being bucked away, but she stopped short of climax. "That was great, Rocker Girl, but I need something else. Will you help me?"

"Sure," I answered. She removed a jar of petroleum jelly from the chest and handed it to me. "You're too wet to need this." I said. "Is Matt going to fuck my ass? He stretched my pussy so wide, I'm afraid he'll hurt me."

"No, Matt isn't going to do anything except film," she said. "And I'm not wet enough for the way you're going to do me. Slip a finger into my cunt." I inserted my right index finger. "All the way." Her muscles clamped my finger, so hard it almost hurt. She grinned at my expression of surprise and released her grip. "Lubricate my snatch with petroleum jelly. Everywhere. Outside, too!"

I liberally coated my right index and second fingers with jelly and stroked Lyta's vagina lips, leaving them gleaming with the thick lubricant. I moved inside her hot pussy, making her scream orgasmically as my fingers caressed her entrance. Adding a third finger, I probed her depths, pushing my hand in until it was stopped by my thumb and little finger. Her muscles gripped me as I opened and closed my fingers while twisting my wrist.

Lyta had been on the edge of orgasm for long minutes, but was still holding back. Her pussy was gleaming with jelly. I knew what she wanted and needed. I'd been a little freaked by photos of people doing it on the Internet, so I was surprised at my excitement as I coated my right hand with lubricant.

Her legs were spread wide and she had both hands on her vulva, pulling her pussy as far open as possible. I stared down her long pink tunnel, gleaming with lubricant and her own juices. "Fuck me!" Lyta commanded. "Four fingers!" I pressed my fingers together and slid them into her, working them slowly in and out, gradually overcoming the resistance of her muscular snatch, stretching it to accept my knuckles.

With the web between my thumb and index finger pressing against her clit, I finger-fucked her, first tenderly, then roughly, flexing my fingers against her resisting muscles. She was finally cumming, an endless thrashing orgasm as I relentlessly twisted my wrist and drove my fingers into her snatch. I was coming again, without even touching myself.

Lyta finally collapsed back on the couch, gasping for breath. Matt was standing beside us, filming everything. His cock was rock hard. I was preparing to kiss it when she gasped "More!" I folded my thumb into the palm of my hand and pushed into her snatch, stretching her wider as I gradually overcame her fantastic muscles.

Finally my knuckles were completely inside her pussy. Lyta was staring at her crotch with blazing lust. "Give it all to me, Rocker Girl!" she commanded. The pressure on my hand was intense. I pushed forward a few more inches. Suddenly, her muscles were drawing me inside, up to my wrist. "More!" Lyta gasped. I slathered my forearm with gel and pushed forward.