The Popular Music Show Pt 04

(Copyright 2001. All rights reserved).

All events and characters are fictitious.

* * * * *

Paul David Arthur Wagstaffe knelt behind the girl sucking Jeff's cock and thrust his own cock into her pussy. She grunted and gasped at the sudden, unexpected invasion of her hole then relaxed and went back to her sucking.

As he looked down at his condom covered cock moving in and out of her he pondered. What was her name again? One of them had picked her up in Bristol before they shipped out two days before, he couldn't even remember who it had been. Nearly everyone in the group and some of the roadies had had her. She never seemed to tire. Any hole at any time. Sometimes, as now, more than one hole at a time.

Jeff was grunting and groaning, a sign he was near to coming so Dave lifted his eyes to watch his face. He looked to be in pain as he shot into her mouth. The girls head was jerking backwards from the force of his ejaculations. Then he relaxed and smiled.

Dave wondered if the girl realised that he was still inside her. She showed no response to his movements. Still, he may as well finish up. He wasn't really enjoying it but it was serving its purpose. His balls were starting to lift and he could feel his cock swelling. 'Come on.' He urged himself.

He thrust faster and faster. Sucking the stale air of the travelling bus into his lungs. He pulled the girls ass cheeks apart and looked down upon her anus, wet in its coating of Vaseline and still open from its last fuck. He didn't suppose it had had a chance to fully close in the last two days. He released her ass cheeks and pulled her by the hips back into his groin.

"She's good." Jeff said, pulling up his jeans as he moved off the couch and stood watching Dave's cock pistoning in and out of the girl.

"She's fine." Panted his reply.

"Fine." He repeated as he came, working his cum out of his cock with long slow strokes in and out.

"Fine." He said a third time, pulling his cock from the girl's pussy, taking off the condom and wrapping it in some toilet paper he tore from the roll lying on the small table beside the couch before he dropped it into one of the waste bags.

He pulled up his jeans as he stood up and fastened them.

"We have a sound test in twenty minutes." He said to Jeff as they walked towards the front of the bus.

The girl remained where she was, kneeling on the floor of the bus. He wished he could remember her name. Should he ask? No, it wasn't important.

"Oh yeah." Jeff said as they climbed down the three steps to the ground. "'H' wanted to know why you wanted VIP and backstage passes left at the door. You know how hard it is to control who picks them up."

"They're for Nat and some friends she's bringing with her." Dave replied, as they showed their passes to the Security Guards on duty by the entrance to the rear of the stadium.

Fuck 'H'. It had bugger all to do with him how many people he wanted to come. He may be the Manager but he wasn't in charge.

Well, thinking about it, he supposed he was. Dave knew it was just opening night nerves. He always got them before a performance. Every performance it seemed. A fuck normally helped. It just didn't seem to have worked this time. He'd have a couple of stiff ones before going on. That should do the trick.

They walked down the wide corridor beneath the stand to the changing rooms. They could hear one of the backing groups starting up.

The Three Fucking Lesbians! Well, that was what they should call themselves, Dave thought to himself as they entered the home team changing rooms.

Their stage costumes were being ironed by one of the Roadies prior to being hung on their hooks. He looked up as they approached, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Hi Jerry." Dave said. "How's it hanging."

"Fine." Jerry replied. "'H' was looking for you. Something about some passes."

Why did fucking Nat need more pass? He'd sent four to his parents for them. He couldn't remember if she said she wanted one or three so he'd left a message for 'H' to leave four at the rear entrance, just to be on the safe side.

"Yeah." Dave replied. "Tell him you've seen me."

"Where's everybody else?" Jeff asked Jerry.

"Up by the stage." Came the reply. "I haven't seen Geordie."

"Well, we may as well go there." Dave said, resignedly. "Who was supposed to be looking after Geordie?"

"Are you not up for this?" Jeff asked as the walked back out into the corridor.

"Just tired I guess." Dave admitted as they approached the wings of the stage. "Do you know. We haven't had a proper break in over two years. When we finish over here its straight to the States for five weeks then Japan for ten days. When we come back there is the TV and promo's to do for this album then its back in the studio to record and rehearse the new songs for the next album. Songs, I'll tell you, I haven't even written yet."

"We've got to do it while we're hot." Jeff said, placing an arm around his shoulders. "It can turn cold quickly."

They joined the group of men and women in the wing of the sound stage and watched the three girls and their backing group performing one of their songs. They weren't bad. Dave admitted to himself. At least they had got them to sing in harmony. The last time he'd seen them they had been very rough. Perhaps that was what had made them popular.

The Three Fucking Lesbians! Not their real name of course but what they were known by in the business. What had he been hearing about Marianne, the small, pretty lead singer? Word had it that she had been starting to hang around the men and the other two had gone wild. There could be a split there. He looked at Marianne's back. Curvy, even in her jeans and 'T-shirt.' He wouldn't mind seeing her split. She'd been around for years, it seemed but he didn't suppose she was much over twenty.

The other two. Typical Dykes. Hard looking and acting. They could out drink and out fight most men. Roberta on the guitar and Lorraine on keyboards. Nat was better on keyboards than she was. Thinking about it, Nat was better on keyboards then most. Certainly better then Geordie. Where was he?

* * * * *

Geordie Hall opened his eyes and looked up through the skylight above the bed at the light, bright, fluffy clouds that hung in the sky above him. His mouth tasted like shit and his tongue felt like a piece of sandpaper. He felt somebody stirring besides him and turned his head to look at the bare back with its slightly protruding line of vertebrae. The line of vertebrae that led his eyes down to the two ass cheeks and the well-defined crack between them.

He could see some little curly hairs poking out. More on the two legs below them. He looked up at the back of the head in front of him. The short cropped hair. The first sprouting of stubble on his cheeks. His cheeks. It was a man.

He sat bolt upright in the bed. What the fuck was going on?

The man, little more than a boy, certainly not long out of his teens, turned to face him.

"What the fucks going on?" Geordie found his voice. Just.

"Relax, Geordie." The man replied in English with a heavy German accent. "We fuck again. Yes?"

"Fuck? No." Geordie shouted, climbing from the bed and looking around for his clothes.

His head hurt. He needed a shit. Badly needed one. He needed something else, as well. His nerves were starting to tingle. No!

"Relax, Geordie." The young man said, sitting up and pointing the TV remote he'd picked up from the bedside table at the TV and video player in the corner of the room. "My name is Hans."

Despite himself, Geordie had to look as the screen burst into life. A group of men were entering the room. He recognised himself and Hans and there were two others didn't think he'd seen before although they did look familiar. Yes, he did know one. He'd seen him the previous day at the stadium. He was working for 'H's European tour company in some capacity. Yes, it was slowly coming back. They meet by accident in a bar.

One of the men had taken a medium sized metal box from a drawer in the sideboard and, after opening it, placed it on the small coffee table by the sofa under the window.

He could remember coming into the room now. It had struck him that it had been very bright in there. Hans had taken a piece of rubber tubing from the tin box and was fastening it around his own arm. He remembered telling them he didn't want any. He'd been clean for the four weeks since he'd come out of the clinic. One of the men passed him a cigarette and he took it without hesitation, drawing deeply upon it. He could feel it now. It had been good. He'd remembered that he had suddenly felt so relaxed. He had watched the look that had spread over Han's face as he had depressed the syringe. He drew again on the cigarette. Then it had been his turn for the needle. Yeah, it had been good.

Hans had pressed the fast forward and Geordie could see himself smoking, drinking, and laughing. The tape slowed. Hans was taking his own clothes off then he was undressing him. Push him away he urged the figure on the screen. It was too late now. About twelve hours too late.

The other men had gone from shot. He watched as Hans had moved close to him when they were both naked and had kissed him full on the lips. The camera zoomed in for a close up shot of their lips pressed tightly together and stayed there as they had pulled slightly apart giving it full view of two tongues fencing in and out of either mouth.

Hans fast-forwarded again.

They were on the bed, kissing and feeling each other's cocks. Hans was moving his head down his body sucking on his nipples, running his hands over his tight belly. He almost gasped out loud as he watched Hans take his cock between his lips. He could feel his cock responding as he watched Han's head lift and fall.

Hans was moving again. Straddling his hips. Reaching for a tube of KY from the bedside table Hans lubricated Geordie's cock and his own ass hole before impaling himself upon it.

The camera zoomed in to show Han's anus sliding up and down the length of Geordie's cock then switched to their faces in turn. Han's held a look of grim determination whilst Geordie's was alight with lust. They were talking to each other and Han's stopped moving and climbed from Geordie's cock before positioning himself on his hands and knees, offering up his ass. Geordie watched himself on the screen as he moved into position behind Hans and pushed his cock between his ass cheeks penetrating his anus with one thrust.

Again the camera zoomed in to pick up the sight of Geordie's cock slamming in and out of Han's ass hole. He could almost feel himself coming as the figure on the screen stiffened and flooded Han's bowels with his sperm.

Geordie staggered into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet seat. His anus almost cried out in protest as his own bowels emptied. It felt as if he'd eaten a dozen spicy curries the night before.

He breathed deeply, then stood up. He washed his hands and face in the hand-basin and dried them on a large towel on the rail by the shower. Wrapping the towel around his waist he went back into the room. On the screen he could see himself on his hands and knees being fucked.

"Yeah man." He could hear his own voice on the TV speaker. "Fuck me. Fuck me."

"Hallo Mr Hall." A voice came from behind him. "You slept well?"

He spun around.

"Relax Mr Hall." The man said, offering him a joint. He wanted to refuse, to screw it up and throw it back into his face.

But he didn't. He took it and accepted the light.

"Nobody in your group knows you like sex with men I think?" The man said, studying the TV screen. "Or your fans? Not that, I am sure, they would be too concerned if they did."

Fast-forward again and he was on his side being fucked. This time it was not by Hans but by the man who stood beside him.

"Why are you showing me this?" Geordie spluttered finally. "As you say. Nobody will care?"

"I think that your record company and the TV companies and your sponsors may." The mans eyes widened as The third man who had entered the room with them the previous evening entered Geordie's ass hole. "Especially as it will appear on the Internet tonight for all to see, at no charge."

"Why would you do that?" Geordie blustered. "Why me?"

"It doesn't have to be shown."

"What do you mean?" Geordie was looking frantically around the room as if for a way out. "What do you want from me?"

"Very little." The man waved his hand to Hans, who still sat naked on the bed, and he switched the TV off and set the tape to re-wind. "We would like you to accept this gift."

Hans left the bed at a nod from the man and walked to a corner of the room where something stood, covered by a sheet. Hans lifted the sheet to reveal a twin-decked set of keyboards on a three-part enclosed stand.

"What's it all about?"

"You do not need to know." The man continued. "Just be sure the instrument and the stand, especially the stand, get safely to America. There they will be lost. You do not need to know when or how. I would imagine a lot of your equipment goes astray on these tours."

Geordie found himself nodding in agreement.

"They will go with you to the stadium now."

Geordie could feel himself sweating. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. He found himself looking around the room. He could feel the panic building up inside.

"Of course." The man reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and produced a syringe with a fitted needle inside a plastic cover. "You will want this. It is very good. Of course you can refuse. Did they not have to postpone this tour once before to allow you to visit the clinic? I do not think they would be pleased to find out that they would need to cancel it again, this time at such short notice."

Hans was fitting the rubber hose around his biceps as the man removed the needles plastic cover.