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I was pressed back against the brick wall which was scratchy through my shrug. my legs felt spread impossibly wide and went wider as he pressed against me. he grabbed his cock and pressed it into place at my pussy. then he rubbed my clit for a bit, until I was panting, then suddenly rammed his cock up inside me. I cried out because it hurt but he didn't stop or wait. he pulled his hips back and did it again and again, until I was past the pain and moaning for more, my legs tight around his hips. "that's it, baby, that's my good girl, that's my good little slut," he crooned into my ears as he fucked me hard against the brick wall by the dumpster, one hand coming back to grope my tits. "spread your legs wide for the thick cock this old man's got in his pants for you."I groaned and whispered yes back to him as he talked dirty, his cock stretching my cunt out as he rammed it home like a jackhammer. I came long before he did and he just kept fucking me, until I came again. he followed. I wrote that song on an endless afternoon. The band was mixing a song and nobody really needed me so I took all my journals and my little electric piano up and started to wander around in the building. I went to this room, which stood out because of its crimson coloured door. When I opened the door I came into an oval shaped room, there was a big poster bed standing in the middle, surrounded by microphones, candles, velvet drapes and giant cushions. The light that afternoon was just slightly filtered by silk drapes hanging from the two windows on either side of the bed. It was the perfect setting for a song to just flow out. That evening there was no light. When Keith closed the door he reached in his pocket and pulled out a matchbox. He started lighting candles and then he lit a cigarette. I was overwhelmed. “You know, your voice is like sweet honey, like a waterfall,” he said with his husky voice. I looked at this man, someone I knew but had just met for the first time. “You.
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