backstage blast
I worked in the ticket office of a performing arts center to make ends meet during college. Most of the men that came through there were fabulous-sexy, great singers and talented dancers-but very, very gay. The occasional one that wasn’t gay was always involved with one of the females on the tour.
But this tour was different. Towards the end of my junior year, a drum and bugle corp type show. It was about 75% male and about half of that was drummers. I played drums since fifth grade and had never met a gay drummer. I was excited to see this show.
I had to work on opening night of the show, so I went backstage to get a soda from our vending machines. I was wearing a sexy-but-sophisticated black pinstripe skirt suit with high heels and a low-cut red silk blouse underneath. I stand 5'9" tall, but with the heels, I was pushing 6'. I’m not a 10 as far as the body comes, but the tailored suit made me look damn good.
As I was putting my money in the machine I heard two men talking down the hall.
“Hey, Ashur, you got a dollar?”
“Why?”
“Cause I want a soda.”
“Don’t you have your own money. You’re the freaking drum captain.”
“Yeah, so. Please, Ashur, please!”
“Fine; now you owe me $27.”
Then they rounded the corner. The drum captain stood there with a dollar in his hand, eyeing me up. He was tall-about 6'2" and very well built. A drummer in the fines sense. I took the other one to be Ashur, who was staring as well. Slightly shorter and not quite as well built. My educated guess was that he played trumpet or mellophone.
The drummer said, “You work here?”
I replied, “Yeah, in the ticket office.”
There was momentary silence. The drummer blurted after the pause, “Well, my name’s Phil and this is Ashur. I’m the drum captain and he plays trumpet. What’s your name?”
I’m always embarrassed to tell people my name. “My name’s Echo. Yeah, I know. My mom was an anthropologist emphasizing in Greek mythology. My big sister’s name is Calliope and my brother’s name is Odysseus. Why my father didn’t object is beyond me.”
The guys laughed a little, then Phil leaned over and whispered to Ashur.
Ashur said to me, “What are you doing after the show?”
“Why?”
“You wanna come backstage and party with us and a few others after the show?”
I blushed. Party with a bunch of hot, young guys who don’t have the time to date? Hell yes!
“Sure. See you after the show, right here.”
* * *
After intermission, I closed up the ticket office and began walking backstage. I heard the show raging onstage. My heart fluttered. Ever since I broke up with my high school boyfriend halfway through freshman year, I hadn’t been laid. I was just too damn busy.
I got caught up with my own thoughts and before I knew it, deafening applause filled the hall-and backstage. This was my moment. I felt like the applause was for me.
Ashur and Phil came backstage and found me by the vending machines. Phil wrapped his sweaty arms around me and kissed me fiercely. “Give us a chance to shower. Everyone’s sweaty. Be back in 5 minutes.” He kissed me again.
That 5 minutes was the longest 5 minutes of my live to that point. Finally, Phil showed up, wearing some relatively tight jeans and a tight undershirt. He pulled me close and kissed me deeply. I breathed deeply; his cologne smelled fantastic.
“Follow me for the best night of your life,” he breathed deeply in my ear.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the group dressing room. Guys were everywhere: some were wearing only a towel, others were fully dressed and the rest were everywhere in between.
Phil put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Everyone turned towards him. “Hey guys. This is Echo. She’s the girl I was talking about.”
A guy in the back whistled. Then everyone applauded. I leaned over to Phil. “What does this mean?”
“The guy that whistled is Chris. If he whistles, that means the girl is in. Then everyone else applauds to show their support.”
Phil shut the door to the dressing room and locked it. I looked around the room. About 20 good looking men, all at my disposal.
“Take it off!” a voice said from the back. Another guy put on some sexy music and I began to strip for them. As I took off my clothes slowly, I danced around the room, giving every guy a good lap dance. By the time I got around to Phil, I was bordering in exhaustion. But then I saw him and got my second wind. He was everything I wanted in a fuck.
When I was done with the dances, I stood in front of them, wearing only a black lacy bra and panty set. I decided to take charge. “Okay. The guys that have been with the tour the longest go first. Get in line. Where are the captains?”
Phil grabbed my ass. “I’m right here, baby.”
Another guy stepped from the crowd. He was a tall black man. I had never been with a black man, but I sure hoped the rumors were true. He was obviously the brass captain.
I knelt on a chair and put my hands on the dressing counter. In the mirror in front of me, I could see Phil as he dropped his pants and slid out his fuck stick. It wasn’t impressive, but it wasn’t unimpressive either. Slowly he entered me. My pussy was so tight because it had been so long since I had been with a guy. My cunt wrapped around his shaft and milked it. He screwed me slowly, enjoying every sensation. He was also enjoying watching my face in the mirror.
After a few minutes of dick milking, he blew his load. Phil was barely out when the black guy punched his impressive cock into me. He thrust so hard it took my breath away. “God, Jesus and the Spirit!” I screamed as he kept punching his member into my dripping pussy. I came in no time and he wasn’t too far behind me. His load was so huge and when combined with Ashur’s, they both started dripping down my leg.
The next guy was Ashur. He grabbed me by the waist. “Turn around, babe.”
I sat on the counter and leaned against the mirror. He thrust quickly, jamming it in and out me so fast, it felt like a piston in an engine. I was quivering in orgasm after a minute of his fast fucking. He came at the same time.
After a few more guys, there was so much come on the table and floor below it that two of the big tuba players lifted me off the counter and laid me in the middle of the floor. One guy fucked my mouth while another fucked my pussy. The pairs seemed to have mutual rhythms and for the most part, they came at the same time. There is no feeling in the world like one man cuming in your pussy at the same time another is cuming in your mouth.
I sat up and asked Phil, “How many men so far?”
He said, “19.”
“How many more?”
“5.”
I was too sore for anymore men in my pussy. “The last 5. Come here.”
They circled around me, all massaging their blue-balled members. “I want to see you abuse yourselves and cum on me. I laid on the floor, rubbing my body all over as they jerked off. One hot stream of cum after another covered my body until it looked like someone emptied a vat of glue all over my naked body.
When they were done, as an added bonus, all five tongues began licking me clean. They licked my swollen, sore pussy, my heaving breasts and everywhere in between. That was the best orgasm of my life.
I still wasn’t completely clean, so Ashur and Phil escorted me to the shower and I cleaned off. My clothes were waiting just outside, along with a towel. I dried off and dressed. When I came out into the dressing room, Phil and Ashur were the only ones there.
Phil stepped forward and kissed me deeply. “You were great.”
Ashur held out an autographed show poster. “This if from the grateful guys. A little momento.”
I looked more closely at the poster. Scattered all over the sheet were signatures that read: Phil #1; Terry #2; Ashur #3 . . . Jack #24. I smiled. I would never forget that night.
