Peachy Keen Films – Groupie
Categories: Death Fetish, Necro, Brutal Amazons, Fantasy Snuff, Petra
Description: Tiffany was super excited. It was her birthday and she gets to see her favorite rock star in his private dressing room. She won a local radio call in contest — she called over 80 times.
Entering the dressing room, she was spastic as she ran toward him. He was deep in thought… writing lyrics for what was bound to be his next hit. Yes, he was that good. She waited while he wrote, hardly able to contain her excitement; almost ready to explode. Then he was done and he looked up at her — eye contact. She freaked out, started talking a million miles an hour about how she was his greatest fan, etc.
When he got her calmed down, he started the usual screening process with these “special” girls that were brought into his dressing room. He had to make sure she fit the criteria. Was she pretty? Yes. Was she young? Yes, as young as they come. Was she stupid? No, but not smart either — a nice mix that he could work with. Now he grilled her about family. Raised in foster care — score. Runaways were sometimes better, but defiantly smarter — this girl had the perfect combination and certainly would not be missed either. He made his move.
Yuck, she reacted harshly to his attempts to kiss her, slapping his chest. Wow, normally the girls jumped at the chance. In two minutes, he would usually have the bitch over the massage table banging the shit out of her. Oh well, he would just have to change the order of events. No problem, he was flexible. He put on his game face. Intense, telling her to never, never take a swing at him again. She was petrified. Little bitch had no idea — but she was about to find out.
He lunged at her, covering her mouth and nose with his large, rough hand. Her air was immediately cut off and she reacted intensely, so much so that he lost his grip unexpectedly and she slipped free and was lurching herself away from him. As she clung to the massage table for stability, he pulled her off and she fell roughly to the floor, smacking her head. He pulled her into him like a spider does a fly and he placed his hand right back over her mouth as he positioned her between his legs to stabilize her.
Her eyes grew wide as her air was cut off again. This time she twisted and squirmed the other direction, catching him off guard again. She flipped over on her stomach, ass grinding the air. He flipped with her, keeping his grip over her mouth, not giving her a break. Now that she was slightly weaker, he was able to flip her over and get her back into position. He had her now, and worked toward the endgame.
He kept the pressure over her nose and mouth steady. Her eyes were wide. She grabbed at his wrists and hands, but he would not budge. Her body in reaction to being slowly suffocated heaved and bucked. Her legs would spread wide, then draw themselves up. One of her stockings was bunched up and after digging and kicking at the floor for a bit, one shoe came off. She dug her toes in, but could not get any leverage.
Weaker and weaker she became, her eyes starting to roll up. She bucked, her muscles locked and spasmed, her chest tried to heave. Her hands became incoherent and finally just lay to the side. Her body slowed and slowed. Finally, she was still.
He removed his hand from the dead girl. She stared blankly. He pulled her up, carried her to the massage table and flopped her over it. He removed her panties and looked at her pretty, shaven, tight pussy. He leaned in and sucked her perfect-looking tits. Then he lifted her legs, and slipping himself inside her tight, warm pussy, fucked her for a while until finally cumming inside.
He called the usual roadie who helps him take care of these things and sits down to once again write lyrics. Now it was a new song, a song about a groupie named Tiffany.