This is why I do this job man – knee deep in goth pussy these bitches are gagging for it.
Edward Alex Crowe loved attending conventions. He’d always find a special kind of fucked up fan here, a special kind of girl or guy who would bend over backward to get next to him. He had no doubt they’d eat his shit if he told them to.
It amazed him how many people traveled so far and wide just to breathe the same air as him. One woman, a housewife from the South had lied to her husband and told him she’d gone on a Thelma & Louise-style road trip with a girlfriend. He’d have gone insane if he’d known she had come here to see him. In the midst of intimate, passionate moments she’d been known to call out the actor’s name instead of oh god earl fuck me fuck me fuck me!
He felt the tiniest bit of sorrow for a few – he knew they were deluded enough to think that he would actually fuck them.
The fuck you thinkin’? I’m Eddie Crowe. Don’t do fat chicks or ugly cunts. Put your wet panties back on
He would would think all sorts of nasty things about his fans as he grinned that sexy, irresistible grin that would make your Grandma remember where her clit is.
He’d think all these nasty little things whilst smiling at them, whilst making their hearts melt and their knickers moist. He’d think these things while he kissed them sweetly on the cheek or let them touch him.
Not if you were the last thing on earth with a pussy, darlin’
All the while he was letting his touch linger on a bare shoulder or a little too far below the waist to be polite.
These were the people who paid his salary. These were the ones who kept him in Cristal and first-grade South East Asian heroin. And he wasn’t in the least bit grateful. He deserved it. He was Eddie Crowe.
Just as boredom began to kick in and his sexy cheeky chappie grin threatened to slide off his lips, top-notch goth pussy walked in the room. X 3.
They knew what they were there for, and the way they looked at Eddie, he knew what they were there for too. There was no mistaking it – the hunger in their eyes said it all.
The three women were gothed up. Beautiful. All were raven-haired. One had a severe 1920s Louise Brooks bob, one had long, flowing spiral curls and the other had lethal looking Liberty spikes.
They oozed up to Eddie, throwing looks so contemptuous at his less-than-glamorous companions that they moved away from Eddie without a word, without so much as a glance back at him. They slunk away, back to the dealer room where they were pimping self-published goth poetry chapbooks at an overpriced table they hadn’t a hope of recovering the cost of.
“Well,” Liberty spikes said, “where’s your fucking room, Eddie. We haven’t got all day.”
Eddie shot his winning smile at the punky goth. Brazen as she was, confident as she was, he was sure he saw her tremble with desire when he looked at her.
Heh I could make a bull dyke wet her fuckin’ pants
He eyed himself in the mirrored doors as they waited for the elevator to open and carry them all to his penthouse suite for an evening of animalistic sex with no strings, no emotion and no guilt – just the kind of sex he liked. He fleetingly thought of how gorgeous all three of the women were, but spent
much more time admiring his own reflection. His body, his face – his entire being – was perfection right down to the separated strands of shiny black hair that hung down in front of his face and made him peer moodily from behind them. They were a very important part of his look. He thought his neatly trimmed Van Dyck beard made him look like a hot Satan.
Eddie Crowe really and truly thought he was the shit.
But this wasn’t going to be any ordinary night of stringless sex.
These three gothic goddesses wanted something more from Eddie Crowe other than raw, animal fucking. They wanted something else from him – The Goth Star – but it wasn’t his body, it wasn’t risky impregnation, infamy and child support. It wasn’t just his body they were after. And it wasn’t money. They wanted what was inside him.
In a mass fumble of rubber, fishnet, and lace, the fan-girls frantically undressed. The three of them fought over Crowe’s cock, although there was something else they were all interested in. But, they would be insane if they passed up the opportunity to to fuck the greatest Goth Star in the Universe’s brains out whilst they were on their mission. That would just be so lame thought Louise Brooks as she pondered it.
Fucking Eddie Crowe would mean maximum goth points. They’d be legends.
All Eddie had to do was lie back and think to himself how privileged they were that he was going to allow them to suck his exquisite cock.
Eddie stretched himself out on the bed, lay back and closed his eyes.
The trio began to undress him, slowly, removing each garment almost in slow motion. They kissed each spot liberated from fabric, tenderly, softly.
“Enough of this teasing shit. I’m not into that. Just suck my dick, alright? Or sit on it. Or something. Somebody?”
He smiled his winning smile at them again and they all turned their attentions to his world-renowned cock. They licked at it with hot, wet tongues, scratched at his flesh with sharp black nails, nipped at the tender skin on his inner thighs with their teeth.
“Woah! Steady, ladies. Don’t eat me….it’s my job to eat you.”
They all squealed at the thought of Eddie Crowe going down on them.
I can’t believe Eddie Crowe’s gonna eat me Liberty spikes thought.
Her eyes glazed over and she fell too far into groupie mode. Severe bob stuck her in the ribs with her elbow to remind her of why they were here in the first place. The sex was secondary. Liberty seemed to have forgotten that.
They’d practiced the maneuver on several willing victims over the last few weeks in preparation for this moment. They had it down. They moved so fluidly around him, over him, that he didn’t notice each of them reaching down into their bags. In their hands were lengths of leather thong and before Eddie could even react, he was spread-eagled, naked, bound hand and foot to the four corners of the black silk-covered four poster bed he lay on.
Stupid eddie really fucking stupid
He was helpless.
He was at their mercy.
They could do whatever they wanted to do to him and he was utterly powerless to prevent it.
A sudden rush of fear made his proud cock instantly flaccid. He despised being at the mercy of another, hated not being in control of a situation. The only mistress he ever gave his control over to was his drug of choice. Women weren’t allowed to dominate him. He was the one who was always in charge. The great Eddie Crowe used women as his playthings, his toys. Bitches were not permitted to do what these three were doing to him.