Rockstar POV

Chloe's phone buzzes with a room service call from her absolute fave band, The Horny Toads. Screw sending the regular masseuse—she's grabbing this chance herself. Any shot at laying eyes on these rock gods? Pure gold. She struts into their suite, oil in hand, heart pounding like a bass drum. But as her rookie fingers slide over Clover's ripped back, things heat up fast. She ditches the pretense, letting her hands wander south, teasing his thighs, brushing that bulge. Clover chuckles, calls her bluff: 'This ain't no massage, babe.' Sly fox that she is, Chloe smirks and flips the script—'How about I unwind you proper?' Lips lock, clothes hit the floor, her mouth dives straight for his thick cock, slurping like she's starved. Just when Clover's groaning and thrusting deep, pounding her eager pussy from behind, the door bangs open. Bandmates barge in, grins wide, dicks already stiffening at the sight. Celebrity fuck-fests? That's Horny Toads Tuesday for ya. They swarm their biggest fan, cocks plunging into every hole—mouth, ass, cunt—stretching her wide while she moans like a groupie dream. Chloe's in over her head, but damn, she loves it. They tag-team her relentlessly, flipping positions till she's a sweaty, quivering mess. Finally, they pull out and blast her—three massive cumshots splattering her tits, face, and that satisfied grin. Who walks away from The Horny Toads without a Cheshire cat smile? Not this lucky bitch.