Deanna and her husband Billy were jammed together along with hundreds of other fans in front of the stage where T. M. Taylor and his band had just finished their last concert in Amarillo. Deanna and Billy were sweethearts who married right out of high school. At the time, she was a cashier at a large drugstore chain, and now, after eight years, was the assistant manager. Billy had gone to automotive school, and now supervised a crew of seven mechanics who serviced the big semi's that came in off of the Interstate. They had a good life, and were in love.
Texas born and Texas reared, Deanna was a country girl who grew up around horses and other animals, so the night Billy took her cherry, she had known what to expect. In fact, she'd had an orgasm that first time.
The concert had been everything that they had imagined. Especially for Deanna. She had been a T. M. Tyler fan ever since she heard his first big hit "You Don't Weary Me No More." Something touched her deep down when she heard his voice. To Deanna, he was full of hurt, but strong as iron when he sang that song, and she had felt a special connection with him ever since.
And now, she and Billy were waiting for the announcement of the name of the lucky fan who would get to go backstage and meet the famous country singer. Billy had his arms around his petite wife, and nuzzled her neck.
"I got to pee," Billy said. "I wonder what's takin' so long?
Deanna sighed. "It's so hot in here. Maybe we should leave. What are the odds, anyway?"
The odds were actually 100% in her favor. Derek, T. M.'s manager, had spotted the pretty little lady right after the first set began. She had that star-struck look in her eyes when T. M. started to sing, and her eyes never wavered. Derek had let T. M. know that tonight's conquest was the cute blue-eyed brunette in the white blouse and jeans. T. M. made sure he made eye-contact with her from time to time, and at the end of one song, he winked at her, and she winked back, and smiled.
He knew she was married. He preferred married women. Hey, if they're willin'... Besides, single gals were too much trouble. They thought they were in love, told everyone within earshot aboutit, and wouldn't know a good lovin' when they got one.
Deanna hadn't even considered being with another man. She and Billy had a good marriage. The sex part was pretty basic, but brought them both a lot of pleasure. She wouldn't allow Billy to go down on her, or fool around with her butt, (although he tried to do both, early in their marriage.) But they liked a variety of positions, and she'd suck him until he was ready, and then they'd go at it. On weekends, they were all over each other. So, when she wrote her name on the ticket stub at intermission, all she hoped for was a chance to meet her idol, Tyler Moody Taylor.
Derek signaled for the crowd to quiet. He stepped to the microphone, holding the black cowboy hat full of stubs. With a flourish, he reached in the hat and pulled out a ticket he already had in his hand, and announced the winner: "Deanna Witt." Deanna felt like she was going to faint. Billy squeezed her, and kissed her. She jumped up and down, holding her arms up. "I'm Deanna! Here I am!" Two burly security men parted the crowd and came to escort her backstage.
Billy said, "Don't forget the autograph." The crowd was clapping and cheering Deanna as she walked to the stage. She was so excited.
She thought humorously to herself: What luck! Of all the women in this gin joint, they had to pick me.
The dressing room door opened. She was ushered in, and the door was closed. The two bodyguards stood outside. Deanna was alone with the great Mr. Taylor. He stood up and took a step forward. "What's your name, darlin'?" Oh, God. When she heard that voice, her pussy twitched! Nothing like this had ever happened before. "Deanna," she said, and then surprised herself by stepping forward for an embrace. He held her close, and kissed the top of her head. She could smell his sweat. Her heart was pounding.
She looked up, eyes shining. She was so pretty, he thought. Without thinking, she stood on her toes for a kiss. He kissed her tenderly, but wasn't sure yet. He said, "That was nice." She blushed, and looked down. "Would you like to try one more?" She raised herself, and gave him her mouth. It's now or never, he thought. Tentatively, the tip of his tongue parted her lips. Then, a little more. She responded with her tongue. She liked his taste. Whiskey, and cigarettes. His mouth odor. She could feel his erection. Suddenly, from somewhere down there came a pleasure so different, so sharp, like a rush, that she started to come! She increased the tempo of the kiss. She sucked his tongue, pulling it in. Spasm after spasm forced her to break the kiss and push against him. Everything down there, from her bump to her butt-hole, was on fire. She squeezed him, and heard herself moan and roar and gasp.
He held her tightly until she was finished. "Would you like to sit down?" She shook her head. Her panties were stuck to her pussy. She was so wet that if she sat, her juices would spot her jeans. He guided her to a wall. She looked at him like no one ever had. He knelt down and took off her boots. He unbottoned her jeans, and helped her wiggle out of them. He pressed his face against her panties, and breathed in her odor. He blew his hot breath on her. She jerked a bit. "Take them off," she said. Oh, God! He's going to lick me. When his tongue touched her clit, she started to come again. He licked gently, around and down and over and on. She came with a silent scream, grabbing his ears and forcing him to her nest. Her juices glistened on his nose and mouth and chin. Oh, you wonderful, wonderful, man!
