Bac Door Man

Eventually I was rescued from that damned hotel bed, though not thanks to Morrison. About twenty minuets after his grand departure a maid came along to clean the room and she found me there, still tied to the bed, still a mess from the fighting and the making up. She was young, pretty, and a huge fan of my beloved. What's more, once I gave her a tame version of what had happened she untied me and went about the room giggling to herself. Great, I thought, another burgeoning groupie! By the time Jim returned hours had passed and he came in as if nothing had happened earlier at all. This was no surprise to me because that was just the way it was between us.

By the end of 1968 the European tour had ended and the two of us had come back, along with the rest of the band, to the sun and fun of L.A. However the road and the pressures of fame had taken their toll on Jim. He was drinking much too much and it seemed like the only time his dick got hard was when someone else wanted it. It pissed me off, this new problem of his, so I did what he would've done if he had been in my situation. I went out with guys who could get it up for me and I didn't try to hide it. Why should I? To others he may have been the Great Lizard King but to me he was just Morrison, the asshole I couldn't live without.

There we lay once again waiting for something to happen as I wrapped my lips around his limp cock. I would abuse it, I decided, scrapping my teeth a little too hard across his shaft. All I heard in response was Jim tipping a bottle as his cock remained lifeless as a corpse. "What the fuck are you doing, Jim? That's your fucking problem right there! That fucking bottle..." The phone rang at a perfect time. I knew it was for him. "...and your fucking whores!"

He sat up suddenly and I watched, unimpressed, as he hurled a bottle of whiskey at our bedroom wall. Why not? All of the walls had nicks and dents in them from his rock god temper tantrums.

"Yeah, Pam, it's all my goddamned fault, right? Listen here princess, maybe if my old lady wasn't a junkie whore who'd fuck anything to score her fix I wouldn't have to get drunk and fuck around!"

My eyes flashed on him with fire. Maybe if it had been another couple with our problems they would've been more understanding towards each other's pain. But it wasn't. It was us. Standing up I began throwing clothes on. Jim's shirt, Jim's old sweat pants...where the hell were all of my clothes...when he came at me. If he got me down I was at his mercy and that never worked in my favor. He'd get it up then and there was no telling what he would do! Picking up a figurine he'd bought me in Spain I threw it hard and fast aiming for his head. Fortunately it hit him. Unfortunately it didn't faze him. With a gash above his eye producing a bit of blood and a madman's laugh erupting from him he was every bit the lunatic. And he was lunging at me, intent on making me see who was boss.

It took me a minute to realize I had hit the ground and a few seconds more to get it that Jim had my body pinned with his own, my arms trapped behind my back by the weight of us both. I could feel his hard on against my leg and for some reason it made me fight just a moment more, getting my knee up enough to shove it into his crotch. When he back handed me the pain resounded through my body. Had he ever hit me that hard? "How many guys have you been fucken' since we got back, Pamela?" When I said nothing he grabbed my chin and forced me to look him in the eyes. I barely recognized them. "How many, Pam?"

"Enough, Jim!" Any answer would have been wrong. The truth would make him even crazier and he would know if I were lying. What was left for me to say?

"Enough?" Through the thin black tee shirt he bit my unprotected nipple so hard that I screamed in shock and pain. "Yeah, half of L.A. knows what my woman tastes like so how dare you try to fucking fight me off! You're supposed to be mine, remember?"

"Morrison, it's been so long since you could get it up that I don't even remember what it's like to be yours! I was starting to wonder about that rumor that followed you from Florida. Is that your problem? Do you miss your boys back home? Do you like the feel of a cock buried in your ass..."

I had forgotten how quickly Jim could move when provoked...or possessed. Before my mind could understand, before my body could fight him, he had me flipped over on my stomach and the sweat pants, which were much too large anyway, were around my ankles. "You know, Pam," he said in one of those dangerously calm tones, "that's what you need to straighten you out. Some discipline, some authority."

With one hand Jim had found my pussy and was working me with expert fingers. He always knew what to do to me. Two fingers probed me while his thumb played softly with my clit. This was his was of keeping me to the spot without force. His magic fingers. With his free hand he had begun to slap my ass hard and fast, the pain and pleasure melting into one hell of a fire that gathered between my legs. "You like that, don't you, my little slut? You like my fingers in your cunt, my hand print red on your ass. Right now you want my cock like you have never wanted for another's. And you'll have it. I'll use it to show you who's in control here. You get away with too much and I'm fucking sick of it!"

His words were angry but his kiss on the back of my neck was tender. With his lips he made a trail from my neck to the top of my ass where he stopped, moving slowly until my pussy was just above his face. His tongue drove into me making me shake with the first orgasm. Yes, he had a way...

I thought nothing of it when he dipped two fingers into my cum and got them nice and wet but I jumped in shock and fear when he drove them without warning or kindness into my tiny sphincter. I wanted to get away from them yet that meant escaping his mouth as well. Harder, faster, deeper, his tongue drove into me until I gave a primal scream, barely noticing that three fingers now gathered in my asshole. I was too worn down to struggle when he left my cunt and pinned me with his weight once more. For a moment after he pulled his fingers out of me my ass seemed to contract around the emptiness but I smiled once more when I felt his cock slide all around my soaking cunt, teasing me beautifully. "I've wanted this for months. Ever since the day at that damned hotel room! Tonight you deserve it. I'm going to give you a reason to hate me!"

I screamed out as he shoved the entire length of his dick into my virgin asshole. The pain was so intense I didn't think I'd make it through. Even when he found my clit it did little to soothe me. His strokes were long, hard, punishing. He would take his cock out until only the tip remained inside and then he would slam back into me in one wretched movement. The more I cried out in pain the more he moaned with pleasure.

Just when I thought I would pass out, that I could not stand any more, he got up on his knees taking me with him so I could lie back on his chest as he drove me hard on his cock. I was nearly delirious with it all. When had this all become pleasurable? When I saw the lust in his eyes? I looked up at him, my head resting on his chest, and he smiled, moving me on his shaft quicker than I thought possible. When he kissed my lips and let out a long sexy groan I knew it was over and for a moment I wanted it back. What had he done to me? "Oh Jim..."

With his cock still buried in my ass he kissed my cheek where a tear had stained it and he sang seductively into my ear, "I'm a back door man. The men don't know but the little girls understand."