“Thank you very much Dublin... Goodnight.”

The cheering rose to a crescendo as the crowd stamped their feet, baying for another encore.

Just then, the house lights came on, transforming the stadium back into the slightly decrepit lesiure centre. Amy glanced around, searching for her friends. She tugged on the hem of her new t-shirt, bought from the merchandise stall a few hours earlier.

“Excuse me, my dear, I’m sorry to bother you but can I ask you something?”

Amy turned to see a member of the stage crew. He looked a bit like a weasel, in his late forties, with that sad combination of receding hairline and ponytail combo favoured by men who still insisted on wearing double denim despite their advancing years. She noticed the Access All Areas badge around his neck.

“Yes, how can I help you?” she replied, smiling slightly nervously.

“Well I couldn’t help noticing that you were a fan, given the new t shirt you were wearing and I wondered if you’d like to come backstage and meet the band?”

Amy eyed him suspiciously.

“Really, you’ll bring me backstage to meet the band, just like that?”

“Well,” he smirked, “Bob has a thing for pretty redheads, and when I saw you, I just knew he’d want to meet you.”

Amy felt her skin crawl a little as she watched the lecherous man run his eyes slowly over her, taking in her admittedly tight t-shirt, denim skirt, ripped fishnets and DM boots. However, she couldn’t help but feel more than a little excited about the thought of getting backstage to meet the band. She’d heard enough stories of groupies and girls desperate to suck or fuck anyone remotely connected to the band in an attempt to get close to Bob, and here was this little weasel offering her direct access.

“Sure, why not.” she told him as she pulled out her phone to send her friends a quick text, telling them she’d catch up with them outside.

She followed as he strolled through the security, feeling her excitement grow. She squeezed past crowds of girls being corralled by the security men and, after watching him knock on the dressing room door, she was ushered inside.

She heard the door close behind her and realised the man had left. She stood open mouthed as Bob, lead singer of the band turned and looked at her. Well looked was really the wrong word. Devoured would be more appropriate. Amy felt as if she was being stripped before her eyes as he stood, drying his hair with a cheap green towel. He was topless. His torso glistened with the sweat created by two hours singing on stage. His green eyes smouldered as he spoke.

“Well aren’t you the pretty little lady. What’s your name?”

“A.. A… A… Amy,” she finally managed to mutter but to be honest, it was pretty apparent he wasn't even interested in her name. He approached, hands sliding over her hips, pulling her to him. His lips pressed against hers at the same time as his crotch pressed into her. She could feel it, his cock, constrained in his jeans and growing and pulsing as he ground himself against her. His lips mashing into her, his tongue snaking out of his mouth and licking her.

She arched her back, her boobs pushed out as his mouth slid down her neck. The hem of her t shirt was gripped and pulled up. Unconsciously, she raised her arms and it was on the floor. With practiced ease, the black lace bra swiftly followed.

She felt his hands pawing her breasts, she knew the small pink nipples were hardening under his touch. His thumbs and fingers pinching and rolling them. She threw her head back and groaned as he kissed his way down. His tongue swirled round the rock hard nipple, suckling, his teeth grazed it as his fingers pushed the denim skirt higher.

She could only groan with need and desire. She could feel her pink cotton panties getting wet as his fingers traced the fishnet and then stroked her inner thigh, that smooth strip of naked flesh between thigh-high and panties.

His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, sucking, biting, ravishing her pert little tits as his fingers slithered beneath her raised skirt, gripping the elastic of her panties and pulling them down her legs.

As they dropped to the floor, she stepped out of them. She was pressed against the wall and lifted into the air. Somehow, sometime, he had unbuttoned his jeans and now, he lowered her waiting, needy, dripping pussy down onto his cock. She wrapped her thighs around his waist as he impaled her.

“Fuck! Yess!” she growled as he took her. Her legs were crossed around the small of his back, his hands gripped her ass cheeks as he bounced her up and down on his ccok. It felt so big, she could feel it growing inside her as he slammed it into her, deeper, harder, faster with every thrust.

She felt her eyes rolling as he pounded her, his big hard meaty cock slamming into her as her wet velvet walls constricted around it. She felt him stiffen and with a groan, he fired his load inside her.

She slumped against the wall, feeling slightly unfulfilled as he withdrew and walked away.

It was only then she realised the weasel with the ponytail was back as he handed her the t-shirt.

“Here, you better put that on,” he muttered as he started pushing her towards the door.

A blonde girl, maybe only eighteen or nineteen years old was being ushered in and glanced at Amy with disdain. Looking down she realised her t shirt was on inside out. As the door closed behind her, she slumped against the wall, remembering her bra and knickers were still lying on the floor.

“Ah, fuck it,” she muttered, grinning as she headed off to find her friends.