Backstage With Lady Gaga

So, I won a VIP ticket to see Lady Gaga's new tour when it was in town, including the chance to meet her backstage afterwards. Well,

technically

I didn't win them at all; a friend of mine who works for the local radio station somehow managed to mess up the competition so that all of the entries were deleted at the last moment. Panic-stricken, he decided the best thing to do was fiddle it so that I was the winner.

"Look, you're the only Gaga fan I know, so it has to be you." How does he know?!

"But I'm not-" Eric cut me off immediately. He'd only gotten the job a few months back and I think maybe the pressure was getting to him.

"Yeah you are, I saw her CDs over at your place." Shit.

"Ah, what CDs man?"

"The ones in your bedroom, under that pile of ancient porn magazines you've had since you were seventeen. I knocked the whole stack over while looking for the bottle opener at your birthday party, and what was there in the middle?" I knew I should have downloaded them.

"Well, OK, yes, I do like her, but still-"

"Look, this is simple. LOOK." He was starting to look kind of manic. "You go along and watch the show, which you'll probably enjoy even if you don't want to admit it. Then you go backstage, she pretends to talk to you for like 30 seconds and signs something, you go home, her PR people tell the station everything went fine, we all get on with our lives. Alternatively, you don't go, my boss finds out I fucked up and I get in a world of trouble. Also I get the drive-time DJ to play Maroon 5 requests from you every day for a month." I could see he felt strongly about this.

So, obviously I went along with it. Even without the threat of '

Moves Like Jagger

' with my name on it in public, I pretty much had to, I couldn't let him down like that. And anyway, it's not like it was any real hardship; despite my denials, I do like Lady Gaga, even if I couldn't exactly say why. Well, it might be something to do with her mouthwatering backside and her lunatic exhibitionism. I'm fairly sure she has a pretty face as well, although I'm not exactly sure. I even quite like at least some of the music if I'm honest. So really, the chance to see her in the flesh was too much to resist. Plus there was sure to be plenty of girls there, some of them bound to be hot and hopefully kind of freaky, if the stereotypes were accurate. Maybe I'd get lucky with some horny Gaga fan! Whatever happened, it would probably be better than sitting at home working my cock over her music videos.

So anyway I went. And it was pretty cool as well, especially once I got inside and realised that since everyone else was presumably a fan there wasn't much point in being nervous about being seen. I had a few drinks beforehand as well, which helped. The place was absolutely packed, it must have been full to capacity and for a moment I felt a touch of guilt for all the people who'd been cheated out of their chance to be here. Well, I wasn't the one who deleted their entries, and anyway it had been a genuine mistake. So I forgot about it and headed through the crowd towards the front.

The show started, and it was pretty spectacular. With all the elaborate pyrotechnics and props, and armies of backing dancers, it was probably the best chance going to see an insane over-the-top performance like that. At least now KISS aren't touring. Gaga was on top form, singing and dancing through a series of increasingly crazy costume changes, each of which was both totally absurd and hugely sexy. She worked her tight body wonderfully, showing it off perfectly to her awestruck fans. Her dancing was fantastic and every move she made radiated raw sex, whether she was gyrating on her own or with the fetish-gear wearing dancers. From close to the front I had a great view of her flaunting herself, and naturally I found myself with an ever-growing erection almost immediately. The high-point was when she appeared in some kind of tutu, the stiff skirt showing off almost every inch of her perfect butt as she twirled and slid across the stage. At that moment I felt a sense of unity with the huge crowd of strangers around me, and as we swayed and bounced to the pounding music I could tell we were all thinking the same thing - was she wearing underwear or not? She kept moving just to quickly for us to see clearly; I thought it looked like she wasn't but was that really likely? It was a perfectly executed tease, exposing almost everything we wanted to see, but not quite. Needless to say it left me insanely turned on, and I knew I couldn't be the only one.

To make things even better, it looked like I had been right about the crowd. I was sure there were far more women than men, at least in the part of the crowd I was in, many of them in their full Little Monsters gear. There were women all around me, all of them festooned with wild hairdo's, crazy makeup and slutty outfits, all of them dancing and singing along. Although I did hear a small voice at the back of my mind saying that considering the fashions and the lighting some of them could have been guys; I was only slightly surprised to realise I didn't care. The experience of being in a crowd of people, all close together as we watched Lady Gaga's outrageously sexual display on stage was awesome, as was the feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing to us. As the concert reached it's climax and the audience surged forward to get closer to the stage, I felt the person behind me pressing forward against me, pushing me helplessly into the woman ahead of me. For a moment I was sandwiched between two complete strangers, their soft bodies pressing against me, and as Gaga did her best to work us into a frenzy I felt horny and guilty; the sensation was weird but sort of erotic in it's own way. Anyway, if she noticed she didn't react at all, and slowly I relaxed back into my previous sense of all-encompassing arousal. I was glad I wasn't a teenager any more - if I'd been seventeen I'd surely have cum in my pants by now. Possibly more than once.

Eventually the show had to come to an end, the last song was sung, the last costume was done with and the last battery of pyrotechnics were expended. By now I had totally forgotten my initial reluctance and was cheering myself hoarse along with the rest. I was so glad I'd been convinced to come, I'd had a fantastic time and I wasn't even done yet! The only downside was that I'd been driven to a state of intense arousal, and then left there; I had a raging erection and nothing to do with it. As the crowd slowly emptied out of the arena I could see I was far from alone; there was no shortage of couples kissing and fondling wherever they could find space. This didn't do much to ease my frustration, but then the night was still young. Surely I could find a willing playmate amongst so many horny Little Monsters? After all I couldn't be the only one who'd been left gagging for it after a show like that. The crowd was pretty slow to disperse, so I thought I'd easily have time to mingle after I'd gotten the second part of my prize. Or maybe one of the other winners would be up for it? My mind was full of the possibilities as I headed happily for the backstage entrance and handed over my VIP ticket.

An obviously bored security guard took my ticket, checked my ID and went off to fiddle with his PC for a bit, before returning and handing me a laminated plastic badge with 'VIP Access' emblazoned upon it. I slipped it into my shirt pocket, idly wondering what the real VIPs had on their badges. Perhaps if you were

really

important you didn't need a badge at all. I was waved through into a waiting area and told that someone would be along to sort me out soon. The room wasn't exactly the height of luxury, in fact it looked like the break room at work only with a bigger budget. There weren't many people about, looking around; some who were obviously employees, a couple who looked like media messing around with laptops and cameras, as well as a fair few who must have been fans by their outfits and their obvious excitement. After the intensity of the last few hours the waiting room seemed incredibly quiet, with only the background hum of peoples conversations instead of pounding music and cheering crowds.

I didn't really fancy striking up a conversation with anyone there, they all seemed to be in their own small groups of friends and anyway my throat was killing me from cheering and singing earlier. I tried to relax, I was getting a little nervous now. I'd never met anyone famous before, what if I made a fool of myself? I told myself I was being silly, I'd gotten all worked up and it was affecting my thinking. I had another drink and willed myself to calm down and ignore the uncontrollable horniness sloshing around my system. For a moment I considered locking myself in an empty toilet cubicle and jerking off, just to relieve the tension, but decided against it. Things were weird enough as it is, I didn't need the psychic pressure of meeting Lady Gaga immediately after wanking in a disabled toilet. After a while I could feel the urge in my crotch starting to die away at last when I spotted a pair of beautiful girls making out furiously in a corner on the other side of the room. The intense arousal that had been building for hours returned with full force and for a few seconds I stood there transfixed. Realising I was staring, I looked away and just as I did I found myself questioning whether they were both women at all. One of them could have been a femme guy? Maybe? I found myself constantly trying to look at them without being obvious about it, it was none of my business and I didn't even care, but not knowing was insanely frustrating. God, I was sooo horny. . .

This was absurd, I was clearly losing my mind. I was starting to reconsider ducking out for that wank after all, when there was a voice beside me.

"If you've

quite

finished staring at the other guests?"

"JESUS!" Clearly I had a guilty conscience. Deservedly, under the circumstances. I turned to see a woman about my age, maybe a little older, standing right next to me. How on earth did she get so close without me noticing? Her outfit surprised me, especially after being around so many people dressed as space hookers and vampire nuns, or whatever they were. Her dark blue pencil skirt was far longer than any I'd seen all night, in that it went past her knees, while above it she wore a tight grey sweater that showed off her full, round breasts almost as well as if she hadn't worn it at all. A pair of old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses sat on a serious, pretty face. She looked like a librarian from the 1950's. A really, really sexy librarian. "I, uhhh, wasn't staring?"

"Oh?" She looked at me with an expression that gave nothing away. Certainly looked like it." It was like being in trouble with the teacher you fancied.

"I, uh." Fuck it. "I was trying to decide if the couple over there were both girls, or only one, or what."

"Does it matter?" She looked across the room, then rolled her eyes. Then she looked back. "They're both. . . at least one of them is. . ." She caught herself. "Oh for God's sake, now you've got me doing it!" I didn't say anything. "Anyway, come on then, time you met your idol. I'm Lana, her personal assistant, by the way."

With that she turned and walked off down a cluttered corridor into the backstage area, apparently trusting me to follow. Despite her high heels and the detritus piled seemingly at random on the floor she somehow managed to move with tremendous poise, gliding along briskly whilst I scrambled along behind her trying to keep up. I would have been faster if I hadn't been paranoid about falling over and hitting myself in the crotch with something jagged. After a few minutes I managed to catch up just as she stopped in front of an elevator. For a moment we stood waiting, her the picture of elegance and me straightening my shirt and hoping no-one could see me adjusting my pants. I felt like I should say something.

"I, uh, didn't realise this place was so big."

"It isn't really, it's just" she frowned "poorly designed. We're actually almost where we started from, we just had to walk halfway round the building to get here. It's very inefficient." The way she said it, inefficient was the worst word she could think of. Something in her tone sent a shiver down my spine. With that the doors slid open and we stepped in. As the floors slowly ticked by, I found my eyes drawn to her reflection in the mirrored wall. She really did look stunning, even without the fact that my sex drive was through the roof and threatening to strangle my brain. I remembered reading some tabloid rumour that Gaga showered with her personal assistant and wondered if there could be any truth to that. Mmmm. . .

"You really do like to look, don't you?" I turned away guiltily.

"Sorry, I, uh" I swallowed. Well, when in doubt, tell the truth. "I'm not normally like this, ever since this night started I've been out of my mind, I don't know what's come over me." I couldn't read her at all, her face just kept that same disinterested, professional look. "I'd accuse you of putting something in the water, if I'd been drinking it."

"Perhaps that's your trouble?"

"No, I'm not drunk." I paused. "Am I? I don't think I've had that much to drink, and anyway this feels different." Why the hell was I telling her this? "Also, I think I've just worked out why I like your outfit so much."

The doors slid open and we stepped out into a much nicer corridor, there was carpet and everything and hardly any teetering piles of boxes. She took off once more, a little slower this time. "My outfit? What about it?"

"It looks incredible because it's the opposite of what everyone else is wearing - instead of decadent exhibitionist fetishwear, it's buttoned-down and deliberately coy. Ordinarily they'd be the ones to stand out, but in here it's the reverse." Maybe I was drunk, I'm not usually this philosophical when I'm sober. "Also, it's a look people associate with sexual repression, so it gives the impression you must be secretly waiting for the chance to explode."

"You're not so stupid as you look. Well, not quite." Was that the ghost of a smile?

"Thank you. Also, you have really nice tits." For a second or so she held her expression, before finally giving in and smiling brightly for a brief moment. "Ha! You smiled then, I know you did!" Definitely drunk.

"Well, here we are at last." She opened a door and ushered me in to a changing room the size of my apartment, with just as much crap piled up around it. I saw a look in her eyes that said 'This place was fucking spotless when I left it'. What she actually said was "She's just sorting out some things about tomorrow's show, if you make yourself at home here she should be along shortly." With that she left before I could say anything more.

I walked over and sat down on an expensive-looking couch, immediately sinking like a stone into the incredibly soft cushions. Well, this was nice. I settled in to wait and wondered what I'd say to her when she arrived. I was sitting for quite a while, they couldn't have forgotten me, could they? The only thing to do was wait; at least I had somewhere comfortable to sit. I noticed a laptop on the side of the couch and opened it up, thinking I might be able to at least check my email. It was black with GaGa written across the back in diamanté, I guessed it was hers? As it woke out of standby I saw media player appear on the screen; I hit play, curious to see what she watched when she was getting ready to perform. The video resumed and I saw three seriously well-hung guys fucking and sucking each other - no surprise there. My own hard cock twitched in my pants as I thought about Gaga sitting on this couch, rubbing her pussy while watching porn; I was nowhere near as big as the guys in the video but right now I sure felt like it. I paused the video after a couple seconds, minimised the window and checked my email. Nothing. Well, that killed a minute or two. I was about to put the laptop back when I noticed a glittery pink thumb drive sitting in one of the USB ports, one of those little ones. I decided to check it out, maybe there would be new songs or something else interesting on it. I vaguely remembered Nine Inch Nails doing some promotional thing a couple years back where they left thumbdrives lying around concert venues with 'secret' MP3s on; maybe this whole thing was some kind of marketing event?

There was something interesting on there, all right.

Pictures of Gaga, quite a few from the looks of it, so I clicked the first one and started to look through them. The first showed her standing in what looked like a hotel room, wearing a full length skin-tight catsuit and those trademark sunglasses. I'd seen pictures of her in something similar in a magazine photoshoot, but this was different - for a start this suit had all zips and chains on it, and for another these photos were taken differently. These looked like they'd been taken with a phone, or an ordinary camera, not professional gear. They were amateur shots, and as I paged through them with growing excitement I realised the other difference - even though she'd shown nearly everything in the media already, there'd always been something supposedly fashionable or artistic about the shoots. In this one, she was clearly posing like a porn star, not a fashion model or a pop singer. Showing off her body to get men hard and women wet, unzipping the top of the suit from navel to neck, squeezing her tits, teasing her nipple. This was incredible, it was all I could do to stop myself from pulling my cock out and wanking it right away. I looked around but there was nowhere I could disappear to, I could hardly lock her out of her own dressing room. I kept paging through the pictures, nervous and horny, again I felt sort of weird but in a pleasurable way.

The pics got better and better, after a few more of her playing with her tits the position changed; now she was bent over, thrusting her latex-clad rump towards the camera while looking over her shoulder. That lovely round ass had gotten so much of my cum, and now I was seeing it better than ever. I kept scrolling on, watching as she slapped and squeezed the shiny black material covering her rump, before undoing another zip and peeling down part of the suit, displaying her delectable, luscious backside in all it's glory. The pale, perfect skin looked stunning revealed from the slippery latex covering her. I gave up trying to control myself and started to rub my straining cock through my pants as I clicked onwards. Fuck, they kept getting better! They really did, and I could hardly believe my luck as I saw her reaching back and parting her firm cheeks for the camera. Then sliding a perfectly manicured finger into the crack, just barely touching her perfect little asshole. . .

"Oh, hey, you found my pictures!" I thought I would either cum, or have a heart attack, or both at once. When I'd reassured myself that I'd done neither, I looked up, my heart pounding. And there she was, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta. After all the videos and photos I'd seen of her doing all kinds of things in all kinds of crazy outfits, it was oddly shocking to see her just standing there in front of me as a real person in normal clothes. Well, fairly normal - her skirt was some kind of golden metallic material, and her thin shirt had more silver buttons than necessary, but otherwise normal enough. Of course, my shock might also have been because she'd caught me with her dirty pictures and my hand on my crotch. She wasn't wearing make-up, and I still wan't totally sure if she was pretty or not. The sense of being weirdly attracted for reasons I couldn't explain was stronger than ever, and I looked up at her with a mixture of guilt and overwhelming lust.