Momo is currently enduring a relentless anal assault. Her magnificent body sways on all fours upon the bed; every inch of her skin is slicked with a fine sheen of sweat. Her long black hair clings damply to her shoulders and back, while her gigantic, marble-like cheeks tremble under my rhythmic strikes. Her massive breasts—so heavy they seem to have a life of their own—swing with a frantic tempo, the sound of them slapping against her chest filling the air.
She takes a sip of cool water from a bottle; I don't stop hammering her even as I take a drink myself. It's a necessity during an "anal blitz" like this—a session that lasts the entire day, where we lock ourselves away so I can sodomize her incessantly for hours on end.
It's our ritual before I head out on tour. The official excuse is that this "exhausts" my needs so I won't be tempted to stray with my fans. Of course, that's total bullshit—I'll sleep with every pretty girl I find. But it's entertaining to use Momo as my personal stress-relief, wearing her down past the point of exhaustion. Besides, the girls i pick up on the road rarely offer up their backsides, so I need to get my fill of anal before I leave.
The assault lasts nearly all day, a test of endurance for me and a brutal trial for her tightest hole. In the beginning, she used to whimper and complain about the pain... but she's tasted enough of my palm to know that this is my right. She must simply endure.
I seize Momo by her hair as I feel my cock vibrating, ready for another release. My girl's tailpipe manages to stay remarkably toned even after hours of use. I close my eyes and savor the hot surge of seed as I give her insides yet another coat of white.
"Can we... can we have a small break?" she murmurs, sweat dripping down her beautiful, flushed face.
My response is a sharp punch to her back. she whimpers an apology and immediately follows my gaze, which directs her to stand at a ninety-degree angle, braced against the wall. I step behind her, changing positions to mount her once more, ready to shatter her rear again. Her massive buttocks are my reins; it's only right she feels like the prize heifer she is. The bull's job is to mount, and the cow's job is to take it.
***
We finally emerge from the room two hours later. Momo can barely walk, yet she's forced to stay on her feet—sitting down would be far too painful.
Jiro is already there, beaming with excitement. She's already loaded her guitars and gear onto my tour bus, ready to set off as one of my session players. Momo and her sister chat happily about this "new experience," painting me as some kind of saintly angel they were blessed to find. It's truly incredible how these two sluts actually believe I treat them well.
As we walk toward the convoy—which includes my entire band and the stage crew—I realize it's time to have a "talk" with the little sister.
I tell Jiro she should be profoundly grateful for the chance I'm giving her, standing on stage before thousands. I tell her that because I trust her, her sister trusts her too, and therefore she needs to make herself "useful." I point out that there will be countless girls throwing themselves at me, and while I'd never *emotionally* betray Momo, the distance is hard. I might fall into temptation. Therefore, she needs to help me "release" to ensure I don't stray.
Jiro is flushed from head to toe, but she's naive enough to swallow the garbage I'm feeding her. I tell her that using her is a "burdensome chore" for me because she's not my type and isn't "pretty" like her sister—and that's exactly why it's safe. There's no risk of emotional betrayal. I tell her I'll settle for her hands and mouth before every concert, ensuring I hit the stage with empty balls so I don't become easy prey for horny fans. I explain that this isn't "cheating"—it's just a mechanical physical need, no different than asking her to cook for me to satisfy my hunger. I argue that by doing this, she's actually *protecting* my relationship with Momo. I should be praised for settling for her instead of the sex my fans offer.
Jiro looks conflicted, but she's too innocent—and too thrilled to be a professional musician—to question my twisted logic. She lowers her gaze.
"You're... you're actually really sweet for not wanting to betray my sister," she whispers. "I understand that guys have... pressing needs. I'm embarrassed, and you'll have to show me what to do, but... I guess it's for the best."
I pat her hair, telling her I know she's inexperienced but that I'll "train" her properly. I love having a new slave to break in.
***
When we arrive at the hotel in the first tour city, I find Uraraka waiting. My manager is over the moon, likely due to the massive bonus I secured for her. She still bears the faint marks from the last time I abused her, but she seems genuinely happy. Jiro glares at her; Momo has always been jealous of Uraraka.
Once I'm alone with her, I ask why she's so chipper.
"Well, it's a huge opportunity! And besides, you promised you wouldn't use me sexually for the next three days."
I snort. "Yeah, but remember—if you piss me off, I'm still going to beat you."
"I don't care, I'm just too happy!" she says, practically skipping. "Three days of no morning blowjobs, no goodnight head, no quick mounts before lunch, and no punitive sodomy if things go wrong!"
"Just for three days!" I remind her.
"I know, I know! That's why I'll make sure to introduce you to the hottest fans, so you can take it all out on them," she says, giving me a thumbs-up.
"Ugh, you're such a shitty pimp. Tell me, is it confirmed that my ex Camie's band is opening for us?"
"Yes, confirmed."
"Fine... I'll deal with her later," I mutter, thinking of all the horrible (and entirely true) things she told the press about my "abuse" and "infidelity" after we broke up. She should have kept her mouth shut.
"And obviously," I tell Uraraka, "Jiro can't find out about the fans... or about what I usually do to you."
"Relax. I've been covering your tracks since I started this job."
***
We head to the rehearsal space for the soundcheck. After a quick snack, we step onto the stage of the massive concert hall. I see Jiro's eyes go wide at the scale of it, even with the seats empty.
Dress rehearsals go well. With only an hour left until the show, I grab Jiro by the wrist. I don't even look her in the eye—that would give her too much importance—as I drag her toward my dressing room.
It's been hours since my last release, and my balls feel heavy. The moment we're alone, I don't say a word; I simply drop my trousers, letting my cock spring free, pointing right at her.
"What... what do I do?" Jiro asks, her face bright red.
I deliver a stinging slap that sends her sprawling to the floor, then gesture for her to get on her knees. She whispers an apology and, trembling with embarrassment, kneels before me. My virile rod stands tall right in front of her face.
I grab her hair and begin slapping my hard meat against her cheeks and lips. What a satisfaction, finally getting to use Momo's little sister. She doesn't have my girlfriend's curves, but she has a charm all her own. While she cowers in shame, I continue to batter her face with my cock, enjoying the sensation of the head thumping against her nose and mouth.
Then, I hold her head steady as if it were nothing more than a convenient hole and slowly slide my shaft into her mouth. It's warm and tight, though clearly lacking experience. I tilt her head back, commanding her to start using her tongue. Tears well up in her eyes from the effort and the sheer humiliation, but I don't stop. I just need a warm place to finish. Her feelings are irrelevant.
The blowjob is decent—the tightness is right—but time is running out.
"You need to make me blow before the show, or this is going to take forever! Lift your skirt and show me that ass—maybe the view will make me pop faster."
On the verge of tears, Jiro lifts her minigonna, revealing those two massive football-sized cheeks. The sight makes my cock throb even harder. I grip her head even more firmly, forcing her into a frantic, deep-throating pace.
She lets out muffled moans of distress, but I don't let up. I need to release *now*. Between her tears, which make her mouth even slicker and warmer, I feel the surge coming.
At the climax, I pull out and aim right at her face, erupting a massive quantity of seed across her crying features. I'm a literal fountain.
I leave her there on her knees, cleaning myself up as I look down at her tear-streaked, "glazed" face.
"Move it. We have a show to play."