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In the weeks after the band recorded their album, they spent days in the annexe practising their anarchic rock music. I heard them on long calls with their management company, finalising the plans for their tour. Their first few gigs were always in small bars in and around Middlesex, so they could test their new arrangements and material in front of a live audience. Every year, they played a free concert at a West London Pride event, and also at a village school fete in Hertfordshire where Paula’s favourite music teacher taught.

Natasha and I had plenty of sex; she adored pegging me, I still had lots of golden showers, I had a daily diet of cunnilingus, and we found time for some more vanilla intimacy. We had some group sessions with Nessie and Faye; wonderful afternoons of mutual enjoyment as the two submissives sated the needs and wants of the punk rockers before the dominant musicians savagely defiled us with large dildos in their waste waters.

The toy Monika made me buy had plenty of use. It throbbed wonderfully against my P-Spot and on its lower settings could keep me at an incredible level of horniness, spewing pre-cum, but without getting close enough to properly orgasm. More powerful vibrations would empty my balls in minutes. I loved my BadBoy and used it weekly at least.

My girlfriend and I grew closer. We spent lots of time together and I tried to ensure that we went out once a week as a couple. When I had a stressful few days at work, Natasha understood and soothed my tensions with love and dominance. I had never been so happy in a relationship, nor satisfied. We discussed Christmas, and I suggested we hire a cottage in Windermere for the festive period. She agreed, and I found a suitable property.

As the start of their season-long tour approached, we had more serious discussions. Natasha had never been away without an agreement of total openness in her relationship and she broached this subject once more. She wanted to discuss the reality of what was coming. “Tours are wild, fun things,” she admitted. “We will all fuck loads of horny men and women. Sometimes at the same time,” she giggled. “You do know that, don’t you?”

I did, and we agreed my girlfriend had the freedom to do as much safe sex as she craved, providing I was not present at the concert. I had tickets to two of the band’s gigs, and on those days, we’d meet up instead of her finding an overnight lay.

Natasha gave me the same privilege, but I immediately scoffed at her offer. “The only people I get sex with will be touring the country,” I laughed, and my lover patted my shoulder.

“I’m sure you’ll find something,” she mused. “I wasn’t here when Boh came down and you had non-stop kink with an eighteen-year-old. Absolutely incredible. I was so fucking jealous! I’d loved to have played with that bitch!”

The day before she left, she frantically packed and then we walked to the pub in the centre of the village for a private couple night before we parted. She flirted outrageously, teased me about her non-stop orgies on tour and then dared me to run up the quiet lane to our home bottomless. We raced each other, our shorts in our hands, striding through the warm evening.

I was desperately horny when we reached home, and I tackled her onto my small patch of grass beside my front door. I devoured her slit in the evening twilight. She groaned as my lips danced over her sensual folds. They tasted and smelt of her delicious arousal, and I lapped up her excitement with relish, twisting and turning my tongue to flick and devour her button.

She gasped as my finger slid into her slippery opening, gently curling to probe and massage her insides. Her hands rubbed the top of my head as she panted and sighed. Irregular breathing, gentle cries and groans interspersed with gasps and pants. My fingers pressed against her G-Spot as my tongue caressed her clit.

She lovingly rubbed my hair as I worked on her. Tasting her glorious arousal. Smelling her unique scent. My left hand pawed her at her bosom, and I gently rolled her nipples between my thumb and forefinger.

Her thighs quivered. She squealed. Her body gripped by the onrushing inferno of her orgasm, she bucked her hips and her pelvic muscles tightened. Her frame shook as she cried into the twilight, feeling the force of her climax erupt inside of her loins and flood over her flesh.

I took a condom from my wallet. She said nothing as she lay on the grass lawn and sighed as my sheathed prick gently slid into her welcoming opening. Gentle thrusts as we kissed lovingly; her cunt gripped my cock as I held her legs vertical.

“I love you,” I muttered breathlessly as I increased my tempo, pounding my girlfriend. She squealed through the pants as I rammed into her, harder and faster, slamming my dick into my kinky lover with wild abandon as she lay in the muddy grass.

She panted and mewed as I neared my point of no return. Horniness engulfed me; my body tingled as I shivered and a wave batıkent escort of erotic energy flashed through me. My pulsating cock filled the condom.

Natasha felt it. She smiled at me, looking longingly at me through glazed eyes. We kissed once more, and she guided my head back towards her slit. “Go down on me,” she demanded.

And the moment my lips touched her slippery crack, she grunted, and a torrent of her champagne splashed into my mouth and onto the grass. She laughed as her bladder expelled over me and I licked her piss-soaked cunt as it continued to rain into my face.

“I fucking needed that,” she muttered. “Let’s shower together and do part two inside.” Which is what we did. Natasha buried her strap-on into my backside before I went down on her again. She emptied her bladder over my lips and face as she dunked a pair of her old panties into her stream.

The soaked underwear dried overnight in my en-suite and she passed me the smelly cotton in the morning, before she left. “Something to remind you of me,” she giggled and I inhaled the concentrated scent of my girlfriend.

I loved every moment of our play and had to wipe my teary eyes after their minibus came and the band drove towards Portsmouth with the phenomenal musicians in exuberant spirits.

Natasha and I talked three or four times a week, sometimes via video chat. She showed the latest merchandise they were selling and a venue they played at, and I got to experience some of the tour. I also received a call when the drunken musicians stripped Nessie, daubed sexual invitations over her skin in a marker pen and fastened her to a radiator in the corridor of the cheap hotel, abandoning her to a stag party for fun and defilement. Every day the WhatsApp private group was awash with sordid pictures and clips, and I had no end of masturbatory material. Clearly, tours were wild, bawdy affairs.

But I longed for Natasha to come back home. I wanted my girlfriend with me and although work took my mind off her absence, my evenings were lonely. I missed her terribly.

In mid-September, the band played at a Leicestershire indoor beer festival and, as I had nothing to do that weekend, I travelled to watch them. I rented a cheap hotel room beside the rugby club hosting the event, and I surprised Nessie by coming up behind her. She jumped, squealed, and hugged me.

I watched the band as I tried new beers and spoke to their sexy seller. It had been a “fantastic” tour, with the musicians predicting that they would have run out of much of their merchandise by the middle of October. Nessie had reordered the items and they would collect next month, but the strong sales numbers were good for their finances. The music at the event was amazing; Natasha’s vocals dominated the function room and their high-energy performances were incredible.

I hadn’t told Natasha I had travelled to see her, and when the band finished their set, I watched Fox and Laurie load their instruments onto the truck as the girls mingled amongst the revellers. A young, tattooed muscle-clad man made a bee-line for my girlfriend and she spoke earnestly with him, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers with a wide, beaming grin. I wanted to interrupt, and was in two minds to do so, when Faye saw me observing the scene. “Hiya John. Didn’t expect you here. You good?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Who’s that?”

“Grant,” she replied. “He runs this beer festival.” She sighed and cocked her head. “Natasha has freedom. Did you think she’d be fucking celibate?”

“She does. I just hoped to see her.” Faye guided me into the main tent and away from the large function room. “I had this weekend free. I saw you had concerts Saturday and Monday around Leicester and thought I might surprise Natasha. Y’know, spend some time with her tonight and tomorrow.” Her bandmate bit her lip. “It’s fine. I’ll…”

“John,” Faye interrupted. “If I told her you were here, she’d come running.”

“No, I don’t want to interrupt her. She looks like she’s having fun.”

“She won’t mind. She wants to see you. Or we’re filming our Christmas video tomorrow at Beaumanor in Woodhouse. Why not show up for that? You could watch the recording? From ten? She’s missed you so much.”

I nodded and glimpsed my girlfriend laughing and dancing with her one-night stand through the open door and left to go to my hotel. I felt a little aggrieved and upset, but I had no reason to be. It was my choice, and I closed my eyes and thought back to the intense music I had listened to.

The following morning, I travelled to the Grade II listed mansion on the outskirts of the Leicestershire town. I recognised the tour minibus and smiled at Fox as I entered the building. Maddison saw me first, and then Natasha. She scowled, strode over to me, as I held out my hands to hug her. She slapped me angrily across the cheek. “You fucking bastard!” She yelled.


“You fucking came to the rugby beşevler escort club and fucking avoided me!” She shouted; I used my arms to shield myself from any further slaps to the face, and her fist landed in my stomach. “Why?”

“You were with Grant. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You fucking tool!” She yelled and raised her hands to fling them around my neck. “I’ve missed you so fucking much!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes after we kissed and embraced and took a walk through the stunning neighbouring grounds. I apologised, but thought that I had given her space, not avoided her.

We returned to the imposing venue; They had festively decorated the manor house for the video, and Faye loaded their Christmas track on her laptop. I took her headphones and listened to the upbeat punk rock song.

“No need to check your list. No need to check it twice, The girls of Bitches Against? We ain’t under Nice. Paula’s been no good. Faye’s been rowdy, too. Natasha’s in the news. She’s turned the air quite blue. Maddison’s got more tats. She’s scrapping every day. While Yasmin’s bad behaviour is leading innocents astray.”

“Santa knows who’s been naughty. He knows who’s been fiendish. His list says who’s been wayward. And those who’ve been mischievous. Playful, rowdy, risque, bawdy. He sees every single despot. But Santa, you know, we’re the naughtiest of the lot. “

The chorus had been ferociously energetic, and Natasha’s voice dominated the recording. Punchy, aggressive, but with a catchy tune, they continued.

“We had a few beers. Some wine. And then some vodka, too. A local reporter thought it funny to do an interview. Our manager got lairy. She kissed the cheeky hack. And then put him over her knee, to give his bum a smack. Our roadie invited fans for drinks after dark, But the Police broke up the impromptu party in the park.”

“Santa knows who’s been naughty. He knows who’s been fiendish. His list says who’s been wayward. And those who’ve been mischievous. Playful, rowdy, risque, bawdy. He sees every single despot But Santa, you know, we’re the naughtiest of the lot.”

“So Santa, we’ll know you’ll visit us, en route from the North Pole, But you won’t just leave a piece, we’ll get bags and bags of coal. Because we’ve been so naughty. And we’ve been badly behaved. Santa doesn’t give gifts to those who’ve been depraved. But Big Guy, why not stop, come in, and have a dram or three. ‘Cause Bad Girls are such fun. Bad Girls are smutty.”

“Natasha’ll give you spanks. Faye a cheeky striptease. Maddison will have you begging and pleading on your knees. Then Yasmin’ll get you a drink, as it begins to snow. Forget about delivering gifts, party under our mistletoe. Have some fun with us, Saint Nick. Let the reindeer have a rest. Some booze with some she-devils, before you set out West”

“So kiddies, if your presents are late, don’t get too incensed. Just grow up to be naughty. Like the girls of Bitches Against. Merry Christmas Santa!”

I loved it, and Faye smiled as I passed the headphones back to her. “That’s amazing. A real Christmas rock song. There aren’t many of those.”

“Tom Petty, The Vandals, Blink 182, Spinal Tap, AC/DC,” Faye replied, showing her music knowledge was far superior to mine. “Plus Weird Al!”

“Weird Al?”

“The Night Santa Went Crazy. It’s a psychopathic Saint Nick!” The lesbian punk giggled and gave me a tour of their set. I was impressed, and I watched from behind the camera as the band played their song in front of a Christmas backdrop, followed by shots of them doing things like making drinks or acting mischievous. They had a man dressed as Santa Claus and Natasha spanked the big guy.

All the footage would be edited to create their official video for their Christmas song as the band chased their second Top 40 track ever. The female director shouted at the girls and the cameraman, and I stood with Nessie watching the action unfold. What was exciting at first became repetitive after the umpteenth take.

They finished at six, and my fuchsia-haired beau came over to me, poking me aggressively in the chest. “You are going to take me to get some fucking dinner, then we are going to go back to your hotel for the night. In the morning, you will drop me off at my hostel. Do you fucking understand?”

I nodded. “And give him a damn good spanking, Nats,” Maddison shouted across the hall.

“He’s going to fucking get it, I promise!” My girlfriend replied, and we ate at a stunning Italian on the main road. Natasha seemed to have forgiven me, and when we got back to my hotel, we visited the pub opposite for a few drinks.

“One each from the drafts, my lovely?” I asked as she seated herself at a table.

She smirked. “Buying me a fucking good linguine, and then getting me pissed does not make me any less angry with you!” She snapped. “And yes, one each.” The barmaid was a little surprised when I ordered eight pints of beer between the two of us, beypazarı escort but I carried them to the table on a tray and lined them up in front of my girlfriend. She tucked her hair behind her ears and held her glass aloft. “To Bitches Against!”

Our glasses clinked, and a little over an hour later, we were back in my room as I laid naked in the large shower cubicle and a bottomless Natasha stood over me. She groaned, rubbing her belly. “Fuck me, that was a lot of beer. Time to recycle it!”

She gasped, made eye contact with me and smiled as the first dash of her pee ran down the inside of her thighs and hit my shoulder. I sighed contentedly; I had missed this. Three weeks of Natasha not exerting her dominance over me. Three weeks of reliving memories and dreams rather than experiencing the acts of Natasha’s humiliation. She panted. “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” I muttered.

“Fucking beg for it then, you piece of shit.”

She rarely made me plead for my degradation. Never had she been so violently aggressive with her name-calling, but I gulped. “Please piss on me.” Her eyebrows raised as I continued to implore and beseech her. I wanted it, needed it, lusted for it. I had a thirst that I craved Natasha to sate. My girlfriend knew I yearned to feel her warm acidic nectar land on my face and flow down my body. I longed to experience the taste and smell, and luxuriate in the disgusting scent of her pee. “I want it so bad.”

Natasha gulped, and, still making eye contact with me, squatted over me. Her arsehole puckered, and she fired a powerful jet of piss into my face. I spluttered as I drowned in her waste, opening my mouth to taste the acidic nastiness. My cock, already hard from her verbal humiliation, strained as I gulped her acerbic, bitter, straw yellow flow. The inside of my throat burnt as I struggled to keep up with her supply, spilling the bitter stream over my chin and my body.

Before she had stopped pissing, she lowered her cunt so her spraying slit was an inch from mine. I drove my lips into the trickle, scattering her pee over my cheeks as I inhaled her acidic taste. Her scent. Her nastiness. My tongue delved into her wet snatch, savouring her feminine folds as my mouth provided the oral service I loved to give.

Her piss coated my face and dripped from my chin and my hair as I eagerly swept my lips over her slit. My hard cock itched; I enjoyed few things more than a hot golden shower and cunnilingus.

“You like this, don’t you?” She grunted, pressing her cunt further onto my drenched face. “Dirty little pervert!” I murmured into her delicious folds, tasting and savouring the essence of my dominant. Her arsehole puckered with every strong flick of her button and she bucked her hips.

For ten minutes, I provided service to my girlfriend. I would have stayed on the cold tiles for hours if she had let me, but she rested her buttocks on my forehead as my tongue drove her to a quivering orgasm.

And then she leant backwards, pushing her asshole over my mouth.

My lips connected with her tight coil, softly probing her starfish. She gave a contented groan as my tongue tasted her sweaty crack and probed her butthole. I felt dirty for doing it, but my cock hardened as I lapped at Natasha’s butt. Desperate to push my face further inside. Longing to do more.

She purred as I basked in my submission. Naked, in a pool of piss, underneath Natasha, covered in her juices and with my tongue exploring her anus. I could not have been happier as she bucked her hips. “You’re a filthy little shit,” she muttered and her muscles quivered. I gulped, and she sighed, hauling herself to her feet.

She showered first. I waited for her to finish before I washed the daily dirt and grime away, swallowing water from the shower head. I wrapped the remaining towel around my waist and returned to the bedroom where Natasha had sat cross-legged on the bed.

She reached into her bag and passed me a condom and some lubricant. “I’ve not let a guy fuck me in the arse for five years,” she whispered. “Be gentle. Please.”

My hands trembled as I realised what Natasha had offered. I had never penetrated my lovers anally before. Samantha would never try it, and my girlfriend had never suggested that she wanted me to sodomise her.

We snogged. My cock rose as we kissed and I rolled the condom down my shaft. I squirted cool lubricant over my stiff dick and she turned on my bed, presenting me with her butt. I drizzled lube over her whorl, causing her to squeal in shock at its coolness. My finger circled her opening, sliding in the transparent goo, and I pressed against her hole. I slid in gently, working the slipperiness into her. Her fingertips idly played with her clit while I stretched her butthole with two and then three greased fingers.

She grunted as I did so, and I positioned my prick at the head of her opening, slowly pressing against her. She rasped and groaned, squealing in discomfort as a couple of inches slipped into her butt. “Too much?” I asked.

“No,” she barked. “More.”

I could tell she was lying, and so I softly rocked back and forth to give her time to accommodate me. I dribbled more lubricant onto my prick and worked that into her, slowly going further and further into her butt.

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