Rod Stewart Plays Albany

*** This story is not so much about the celebrity as about the female involved ***

Rod the Mod was not a kid anymore, but he still had plenty left in the tank. Back in the 90's, he still had a way with a tune, as well as an eye for the ladies.

A lot of the ladies wanted to catch that wayward eye, and one woman in particular was willing to do almost anything to change the rhythm of his heart when his tour stopped in her city.

.........

Chapter 1 - Not Forever Young.

Monica rearranged the straps of her new bra, trying to get the look she wanted and still have some degree of comfort. It was going to be a long night, and Monica hoped that if everything worked out the way she had planned, it might be even longer.

The figure that Monica saw in the mirror wasn't that of a model, and she noted that her recent attempts to shed the 20 extra pounds she was carrying in time for the concert had not worked. She was still plump - chubby but at least solid - despite the hours of exercise.

"Too late now," Monica noted glumly, stepping back and giving herself a self-appraisal. "He'll have to take me as I am - if he even takes me at all."

The legs were shapely but still full, and emphasized her short stature of 5'2". Monica's waist was thick but solid and the butt was big but still pretty firm. Her arms were a little fleshy as well, and as Monica lifted them she checked to make sure that her pits were still smooth, even though she had already shaved them so many times the skin was becoming a faint pink.

The breasts. That was what she had going for herself, and she knew it. Unhooking the bra and swinging it away from her breasts as they lurched down after being freed from their support, Monica looked at her massive bosom from both sides and from the front.

She massaged the huge globes, trying to get rid of the marks her bra had left on the tender flesh, and felt her nipples pop out in response to her kneading.

Once again Monica pulled on the blouse she was going to wear and checked to see how it looked without a bra. The white sleeveless top was a struggle to get on, and when she saw how her breasts hung down to her waist, she knew that the bra-less look was not meant for her.

Maybe a few years ago she could have pulled it off. Before having the kids and turning 30, and before her breasts had gone from being merely large to their present state, she could go without a bra and not look absurd.

Now she looked outrageous without the support her breasts so obviously needed, and while she wanted to get her man's attention, she didn't want him to be looking and laughing. Rather, she wanted him to lick his lips and invite her backstage.

The man in question was not her husband, who would be off playing poker all night while she had to pay for a babysitter. The man she wanted was Rod Stewart, who Monica had adored all her life, and when she had managed to score front row tickets for the concert at Knickerbocker Arena, she aimed high.

Monica had fantasized about tonight over and over, and even though she knew in her heart that she would likely be one of thousands of women there who would be thinking the same thoughts and end up with only fond memories of the concert, it was fun to dream.

Off came the blouse, and back on went the bra. It was the nicest bra Monica had ever bought, and the outrageous price reflected it. Finding a bra that fit a woman of her dimensions and gave the necessary support along with not looking like some kind of battle armor wasn't easy.

Monica chuckled when she remembered going into Victoria's Secret and asking them if they made the Miracle Bra in her size. The woman looked at her like she was from another planet, and told her that they made those for women who wanted to make what they had look like more.

"That's what I want too," Monica said.

Suffice to say that they didn't make a Miracle Bra for women with a 42F bust, so Monica had to order a bra from a speciality store. While it did look nice, with the white lace and the low-cut front that exposed a whole lot of her cavernous cleavage, she wished that it made her breasts thrust out even further.

"Even if they crashed down when it came off," Monica said to herself, lamenting the problem of having naturally large breasts instead of the saline or silicone variety which were able to defy gravity and the aging process better.

Monica put the white shell blouse back on, and thought that she certainly looked alright in it. It was a large instead of her usual extra large, and the stretchy material was really getting a workout, making her look like she was ready to explode out of it.

"All for you, Rod," Monica said to the mirror, as the doorbell rang.

::

Chapter Two - Pre-concert warm-up.

"You have got to be kidding!" Barbara said as Monica let her in.

Monica knew that would be her friend Barbara's reaction, but she didn't really care. Barbara was a good friend, but she could be catty as hell.

"I think I look great," Monica said, pouring them shots of bourbon and downing her own without blinking.

"If you're trying to get attention, it's going to work."

"Well, if Rod sees me and likes what he sees, that's all that matters," Monica replied.

"It's just that the blouse is so tight, it makes your chest look even bigger than it is," Barbara noted.

"Good," Monica said, closing the discussion.

Barbara was fond of making comments about her chest, some in jest and some not, but Monica remembered that night many years ago, when they had gone out and had too much to drink. Monica had decided to stay at Barbara's house instead of driving, and while she was drunk when it happened she still remembered.

Monica remembered Barbara getting into bed with her and feeling her up for the longest time, pawing at her tits as eagerly as any guy ever hand. The next morning, when they saw each other, Barbara made a point of saying how drunk they had gotten and how she didn't remember anything.

Bullshit, Monica thought. She had a lot more to drink than Barbara had that night, and if Barbara was somebody that turned her on, she might have responded to her advances, instead of just letting her massage her breasts for what seemed like an hour. Barbara was just too dumpy to excite Monica.

Monica never mentioned the incident, but over the years she noticed that whenever Monica was getting dressed or undressed and Barbara was around, she would just happen to appear and idly chat while getting an eyeful. Even now, just standing there pouring a drink, Monica could feel Barbara's eyes on her straining blouse.

This didn't revolt her. Just the opposite. Monica enjoyed the attention her natural assets got from both men and women, and unless somebody was really vulgar, she loved being looked at. It was a payback for suffering with backaches from carrying them around 24/7.

"At least wearing that will keep you from getting attacked," Barbara noted as Monica put on a black blazer over her top.

The blazer would be coming off as soon as Rod hit the stage, Monica thought.

:::

Chapter Three - Concert.

The minute Rod hit the stage, Monica was up on her feet, the blazer left back on the chair to stay. He was old enough to be her father, but despite the years, he wore it well. A little haggard and weathered around the eyes perhaps, but he looked so good that her panties were wet from the moment he hit the stage.

For her part, Monica did her best to catch Rod's attention. She heard the comments Barbara made to her early in the show, but tuned her out for the rest of the night. Yes, she knew what she looked like as she jumped and danced, her breasts a beat behind as they tried to keep up with her.

Monica could have sworn that Rod had looked at her several times - and was that wink for her? This only made her gyrate around more wildly, making her damp with sweat. It also was making her even wetter between the legs.

A couple of ballads gave her a chance to rest a minute, but then Rod was getting the crowd up on their feet again, asking everybody if the wanted to do a little twisting.

The old Sam Cooke song wasn't one of Monica's favorites, but she loved watching Rod move around, so she got up on her feet. Suddenly, somebody from the road crew was motioning to her, and before she knew what was happening, Monica was being pulled up onto the stage, along with a few other girls.

The lights were blinding, as she couldn't really hear the music all that well, but there she was, on stage with Rod himself doing the twist. Each of the other girls were really getting into it, and so Monica went all out.

It was all a blur, and luckily she could really see out into the audience a few rows. She could feel the guys of the guys as they watched her tits sway back and forth to the music, but all she really cared about was Rod, and when he came toward her to dance it was all she could do to keep from jumping on him.

His eyes twinkled as he watched her blouse bounce, and Rod even said something to her before moving away, but it was all too loud and crazy to make it out.

Then it was over. Monica got helped down off the stage and found her way down to her seat. A girl she didn't know patted her on the back, and some guy grabbed at her chest as she went through he crowd to where Barbara stood waiting.

"Too bad I didn't have a camera," Barbara screamed at her. "You looked wild."

The rest of the concert was a blur, and after Rod came back for an encore, Monica was feeling a little letdown. She didn't get a soccer ball kicked to her, and the only souvenir she was going to have was dancing, unless a picture of her appeared in Metroland or another local paper.

Dancing with Rod Stewart was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to her, but now she wished that she had kissed him or hugged him. She would have done anything he asked.

As Rod sang the encore, Monica saw a member of the road crew work his way down to her. He put his hand on her arm and yelled something in her ear that she didn't make out, and when she stood there and nodded, he led her down the aisle and out of the arena.

::::

Chapter Four - Backstage.

Monica didn't understand. She was missing the last part of "Sailing". Had she done something wrong? The guy was walking so fast through the bowels of the arena that she was having trouble keeping up, and her breasts bouncing as she jogged made everybody look at her.

Now they were so far back into the bowels of the arena that the crowd's roar was dulled as they pleaded for another song.

The roadie told her to stay there and then left her outside of a dressing room, where a few people milled around. A burly black security man stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leering at her breasts. The white shirt was drenched with sweat and had become almost transparent, making her bra quite visible.

The crowd noise was loud and muffled, and after a couple of roars, there was a commotion in the hallway Monica had just been led down. A group of security guards were pushing people out of the way, and then - there he was! Rod Stewart!

Monica got moved to the side of the doorway as the guards pushed people aside, and she waved when she got a glimpse of Rod in the midst of all that beefy humanity. Then suddenly, a hand reached out through the crowd. Rod's hand. Grabbing her on the bicep, he pulled her towards him and the guards parted to allow her through, and the next thing she knew, Monica was in the dressing room. Alone, with Rod Stewart.

"Hello love," Rod said, wiping his face with a towel before going over to the little bar and pouring himself a drink. "What's your name?"

"Me... uh... Monica," she finally blurted out.

So sexy, even drenched with perspiration, and even if he showed a little bit of age around the eyes and neck, he was still hot.

"Well dear, I'm glad you helped us out with the dancing," he said, his eyes glued to the massive breasts bulging in the wet, almost transparent blouse. "You really got my attention out in the crowd so I had them call you up."

"I'm your biggest fan," Monica blurted out, hating herself but not knowing what else to say.

"You certainly seem to be, love," Rod said, moving closer to Monica and handing her a glass of something, which she downed in one swallow. "Are those real, love?"

Monica looked down at her chest, which was inches away from Rod's hand, and nodded.

"Fantastic!" he said, reaching over and gently squeezing her left breast. "Hate those saline ones. Nasty. Let's have a look at yours, okay?"

"Uh, I'm a mess," Monica said, trying to explain her soggy and messy condition.

"We both are, love," Rod said. "It's just rock and roll, you know? Don't have very much time here I'm afraid, dearie."

Monica nodded and set her drink on the corner of the table and went about the task of getting the wet blouse off of her body. The blouse was tight enough as it was, and the moisture only made it cling tighter to her skin, but Monica was determined to get it off even if she had to rip it to shreds.

Finally, with Rod's help at the end, Monica managed to get the thing off of herself, and Rod tossed it aside.

"I'll do anything," Monica said. "Anything."

"That's nice, dear," Rod said, and turned Monica around and started unhooking the bra. "What do you do for a living, love? You an exotic dancer?"

"Dancer? Me? No, I work at the library."

"Librarian?" Rod said as he worked his way down the row of hooks. "Librarians didn't look like this when I was a boy, or else I'd be a lot smarter today, you know?"

"I'm not a librarian," Monica started to explain, but Rod had just got the last hook undone and as the bra lurched off of her, he was in front of her in an instant.

"Cor!" Rod gasped, his hands gripping the wet jugs and squishing them around in his hands. "Now this is what I like."

Rod kneaded the massive globes in his palms, feeling the doughy globes like a kid in a candy store, and when Monica's nipples blossomed, he plucked at them intently.

"Let's come over here, love," Rod said, bringing Monica over to a rug.

Monica dove to her knees and pulled down Rod's pants, and when his long and slender cock was revealed, she grabbed it and started gobbling it hungrily. Taking the tube down her throat while she clutched at his ass cheeks, Rod laughed and stroked Monica's blonde hair while pulling her off of him.

"That's nice, love, but I have a better idea," he said, and eased Monica onto her back, where he straddled her waist.

"Just relax, love, and let me do all the work."

Rod's hands came down and grabbed Monica's jugs, squeezing them together around his erection, and moved his hips so that his cock slid through the sweaty cleavage.

"Oh, that's great," Rod said as he looked down at Monica.

Monica watched the tip of Rod's cock peek out from between her breasts and then disappear as he titty-fucked her. His hands kneaded her jugs roughly as his cock moved between them, while Rod's delirious grin showed how much he was reveling in their doughy feel, and although it seemed like it wanted it to go on much longer, he couldn't hold back.

"Argh!" Rod yelled, and as he called out he leaned forward.

Monica saw his glans emerge from between her tits, and then watched him start ejaculating wildly all over her face. A wad caught her in the left eye, and as she tried to keep her eyes closed, Monica felt more of his hot seed spray all over her face and neck.

"That was a blast, dear," Rod said, climbing up off of Monica and wiggling his member before reaching down and helping Monica to her feet. Monica was in a daze, and as Rod helped her back on with her blouse, he wiped some of his cum from her face.

"Sorry I can't spend more time with you - and especially with these," he said, squeezing her breasts through her blouse. "They were fantastic, and so were you, love."

A kiss on the cheek, and the next thing Monica knew, Rod was sticking a bunch of things in her arms and ushering her out the door. Monica staggered out into the hall, where a bunch of girls were screaming and trying to get in.

Feeling disoriented, Monica wandered out to the nearly empty arena, looking to find her seat where she had left her blazer. The last five minutes were like a dream of some kind, and she barely heard her name being called, only coming to when her friend Barbara grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Where did you go?" Barbara said.

"Back there," Monica mumbled.

"Here's your blazer," Barbara said. "You better put it on - and what happened to your bra?"

Monica suddenly realized that her bra was back in the dressing room, and she knew she would never get back through that crowd around the door. Even if she got to the door, they would never let her in.

"What went on back there?" Barbara said. "And what do you have there?"

Monica set the stuff down on a ledge and Barbara dove into the pile of things, supposedly helping her sort it out. Five tour t-shirts, an un-inflated soccer ball, a couple of CDs that she already owned, and a tartan scarf.

"These shirts won't fit you. They're all mediums and larges," Barbara said. "Can I have them?"

"I guess - leave me one of them," Monica said. "I want the scarf too."

"It's all sticky," Barbara said, gingerly holding it away from herself, and then did a double take and reached over to Monica's neck. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh. Cum, I guess," Monica said.

"Is it his?" Barbara asked, and Monica nodded.

"Did you give him head?" she asked.

"A little," Monica said. "Then he laid me down on a rug, stuck his dick between my tits and shot his wad."

"How did all that happen so fast?" Barbara asked.

"I don't know," Monica said. "One minute I was in his dressing room and the next minute I was out here."

"How big was Rod's cock? Did he want to screw you? Did he cum fast? What else did he do to you? Hey, these shirts are all gooey too. How many times did he cum?"

"Give me a minute to breathe, will you?" Monica said in exasperation.

"I can't help it. This is so exciting. You're like a celebrity."

"I don't feel like one," Monica said. "I have to get to a mirror before I go home. Is there more of it on me?"

"Your hair - it's sprayed all over in it and it's drying," Barbara said. "Too bad you can't save some of it. Nobody will ever believe what happened," Barbara added.

"That's because nobody will ever know," Monica snapped, waving her finger in her friend's face. "If somebody ever mentions anything about it, I'll know who blabbed about it too, so keep your frigging mouth shut for once in your life, will you!"

....

Barbara did just as she was asked for all these years, until recently. Now you know too.