His name was Charley Simpson. He hadbeen a studio player longer than I had been alive. His cords had backed up the legend of the jazz, blues, and the ...otown music business for decades. At first he humored me when I said I knew how to play. Then my questions proved I knew what I was talking about. When the music started I was surprised to feel his hand on my shoulder guiding me to the door. The bouncer tried to stop us but Charley waved him off. He led me to the stage put a spare guitar in my. It was fat and long and very scary looking. He said he wanted me to see his club before he used it on me. He dropped my head back to the table, and walked around behind me, I was scared and started to really fight to get away, but I was tied in tight. I felt his cock slide up between my ass cheeks as he bent over and whispered into my ear that he was going to give me a fucking to remember. I think this scared me even more, I felt him at the opening of my battered pussy, and he started. More

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