It was the day after the Leeds gig that some PR woman from a clothing company showed up at the band's hotel. God knows if anybody had actually invited her. Anyway, she came, and quite a wench as well, if you don't mind something around thirty. Reddish tinted hair, tanned face, bright blue eyes behind her fashionable glasses, wearing a neat business suit with a pair of tits underneath her tightly buttoned jacket that looked big enough to fend off a cruise liner. Yes, very tasty, especially with a skirt split on both sides to show off legs that went all the way down to a pair of high black boots.

The problem was that it was Posso, the band's sound technician, who opened the door when she knocked on it. And the problem with Posso was that he was still half smashed from an all night celebration party, he was having a very sexy conversation on his mobile phone with one of his girlfriends, and for some reason he can't recall now he was bollock naked. And a bollock naked Posso has what you might call a distinguishing feature -- it's kind of long and tight, and when Posso is having carnal thoughts it's obvious why the band guys all call him King Dick.

So there's this chick standing there with a specimen leather jacket she's hoping to get one of us to wear on the next photo shoot, her mouth's hanging open and there's Posso in all his morning glory: Posso never missed a word on the phone but the sight of that opened mouth seems to get him switched into immediate action mode. Because he wanders back into the room holding the PR girl's hand and she's still in shock, especially when she sees the state of the room after we've had one of our little entertainments in it. Sean grabbed her shoulders and sat her down on the armrest of her sofa, and then he hooked his finger through the woman's earring and Posso was telling his girl on the phone exactly how he's going to fuck her the next time he sees her. And while Posso's telling his girl all these sordid details this PR chick was getting the point of his conversation right in her face.

I guess we were wondering how hard Posso was going to have to pull on the earring to get his cock where it obviously wants to be, but this saleswoman has obviously decided she's fallen in with the most dangerous set of dope fiends in the music business, so she puts her lipstick around Posso's old man without even waiting to introduce herself. The rest of the band and the main men started wandering out of bedrooms to check out the scene. Heinie, the guitar technician, he came over, sat down on the sofa and put his hand inside one of the slits in the woman's skirt and she got even more red faced than ever, believe it or not, even with her mouth already full of Posso's prick; those bright blue eyes began sticking out like chapel hat pegs. We can see that because somebody had taken her glasses off by that stage.

Anyway we mostly decide we've all got one more fuck left in us, even after an all night booze and pill popping scene, so Sean tells Posso to take his prick out of her mouth, and Posso's girl hears him on the phone and wants to know what the fuck's going on, so Posso gets bored and drops the phone in the fish tank. Then Sean tells the PR woman we'll all wear one of her jackets for the shoot if she'll give us all some headwork in return

It seems like we've got a good negotiating point, especially as there's now a finger hooked through both of her earrings ready to pull on them like ring tabs. I guess she feels like she really needs to keep her ears so as to have something to hang her glasses on because she agrees. Well, she doesn't squeal very loudly, put it that way.

So about two minutes after she's knocked on the door, our visitor was down to her bare essentials and on her knees in front of the sofa, giving a better suction demonstration than a turbocharged vacuum cleaner.

Somebody asked if we should get room service to send us up some breakfast but Sean said we'd give the PR bird something to swallow first before we bothered about opening our breakfast beers -- the guy is one of nature's gentleman, no doubt about it.

Those of us that haven't got one of the hot seats settled down to watch what this public relations expert turned pubic relations consultant was doing. She's not bad, not bad at all, especially when she starts getting a helping hand or two from behind to concentrate her mind on the job in hand -- OK, the jobs in her hand and mouth, to be precise. She's got a pair of sexy blue stockings on, no panty hose, and there's a general opinion being voiced that she came up to the room already willing to do whatever it took to fix a deal. The problem for Posso was that once she'd clocked Sean as the lead singer she seemed to want to give him all her attention, which pissed Posso off a tad. So he got down behind her and showed how he can get fantastic sounds out of anything if he uses the right fingering.

"How about we gangbang this bitch?" he suggested and the chick nearly choked on Sean's cock as all the guys sounded off happily. They fancied her, whoever or whatever she was.

It didn't matter, what did count is that she was just in time to sample some hot rolls for breakfast or brunch, or whatever the hell the time was out in the real world. On the road the only thing that matters is how long it is until the next gig. Provided you've got your shit together when you have to walk out onto that stage, that's all that anybody gives a fuck about. As for groupie girls, they keep appearing out of nowhere like mirages in a desert, only there's more of them than we can handle and they won't be told that and sometimes you wish they'd vanish as fast as they show up.

Anyway you soon get tired of a diet of brainless band mad teenage chicks and this PR piece was something different. Older, more sophisticated with a genuine upper crust accent. It's great when you can pounce on some of these older women who've had a fairly normal life until they fall into a band's hands. The fun with them isn't just a quick one on one screwing -- hell, no, you can have a lot more fun with them than you can with some shag happy sixteen year old slut.

Get hold of some normal respectable lady who's never let herself run riot in her entire life and then fuck her wholesale; up, over and under by everybody from the main men right down to the latest roadie recruit. By the time Ms average married has been gang banged by one and all her mind has been blown so far into orbit it never comes down again. Three months later at the other end of the country you find the same women hanging around at every gig hoping for a another invitation to come backstage. I often wonder what they tell their husbands about those trips.

This one was already making noises like a cow that's finally getting her overfilled udders attended to, and that was before Posso decided to let her get a feel of the tip of the day. But then he got sent to the back of the queue as Sean and the rest of the band decided to assert their right to first helpings of any cunt going.

They grabbed hold of the PR wench and got her ready for her big gig with the 'Chattering Skulls'. Her bra disappeared somewhere, she went down on her back on the carpet and her knickers got dropped into the fish tank. It was an odd thing that, there were bubbles coming out of Posso's phone and we left the wench on the floor while we had a discussion about them. Pozzo said the bubbles were because his girl friend was still cursing him on the mobile. In the end we took the phone out of the tank, wrapped the PR woman's panties around it to muffle Pozzo's girl and then dropped the phone and the panties back into the tank. We were so stoned that it seemed to make good sense at the time. Oh yeah, and then we remembered about this naked PR woman lying on the floor who was getting pissed off with being kept waiting.

"Oh, you beasts, let me go!" she started calling out, one arm over her bare tits, a hand over her snatch and desperate to be the center of attention again.

Anyway you could tell the shouting was only for show, because the rougher it got the better she liked it. The 'beasts' bit was dead popular with the gang though. It made her sound like real smooth trade, Cheltenham Ladies College or something. It became a catch cry for all of us -- every time somebody dropped a fart in the tour bus for weeks afterwards there were guys calling out in mock falsetto voices: "Oh, you beast, you!"

END OF PART ONE

---

Read Complete Story
Return to Story List