Roadtrip (Group sex, Female sub Needed)

[Danny Chase]

TLDR ; Photojournalist is in over her head as she travels with a punk rock band on tour. The band gets a little touchy and she's peer pressured into playing along, though it doesnt take much to...

Alcohol and Marijuana use warning. 

 

 

The newspaper never took vacations, and even when one found the time to do so, they would end up finding work for themselves much better than they'd find at home or in the office. Y/N especially finds her best work out on the field. Everyone knew her to be well traveled and booksmart, but they thought this latest trip she was taking would be a journey better missed. She thought otherwise. It all began one morning in the office when she noticed an ad her coworker was printing on the back page of the next days issue; "Searching for photographers to go on tour". The name associated with the ad was the cult band Gettup, a group well known for their party behavior in and out of work. On the outside they seemed nothing more than rambunctious young ex criminals. But on the inside... what was the inside like? Her curiosity peaked, she took the ad and applied for the job, putting in PTO for her day gig at the newspaper. 

 

Inspiration was running thin. Travel has kept her skills sharp, but she'd been around other countries before but found her knowledge of her own homeland lacking. Sure, she was well read and knew of the wide expanse of culture there was in America, but she hadn't ever seen it for herself. Especially not in the company of such a strong-willed group of people. Everyone at the office were sad to see her want to leave again. In fact they warned her not to. 

 

"Dont go with those punks! You will be drunk and high the entire time," said her editor, a man who shares the same opinion of the group that every media outlet did, "and who knows what other kinds a trouble they'll get you in?"

 

Nothing swaided her. She'd already made up her mind to go, so long as she was chosen. She was. Apperently the band's pianist was a fan of her work. She was called the day after applying and told to pack for a long trip across America. Later that week she was at the site of a large bus stop. More so it was a garage for a fleet of buses. The group rented a tour bus for the trip and were just then packing up. The band was all there, along with four other roadies who were helping them pack. What little research she gathered of these men set her up to know them all by name already. They introduced themselves anyway.

 

Leon was the one who had her hired, the pianist, her little fan. He dressed the most nicely of the group, though even then his white collared shirt hadnt been ironed since he first wore it, nor his navy blue dress pants. His unpolished black shoes were good quality and almost clacked against the solid concrete ground as he approached. He was a golden blonde white guy with one blue eye. The other was brown. They were bright and curious eyes. He noticed her approaching first and called out to everyone. He spoke well of her, claiming she was the best journalist they couldve asked for. He shook her hand and patted her back, welcoming her to the team before introducing her to the rest. 

 

Jacob was a tall white guy with red hair that hung over his ears, the drummer. He had a lovely dark patrern slashed down along both eyes that looked as though it'd been painted on him, though who could tell if they were tatoos or natural pigments of his smooth scaly skin. He wore a gold necklace under a black sleeveless with the band logo on the chest. His build was lithe and supple. Wiry but firm. He had a lazy smile beneath those half closed piercing eyes. 

 

Jose, he bass guitarrist, he was the tallest in the group. A huge black man, thin framed but thickly built like a wildcat. He was only lean around the waist and stomach, everything else was filled in like a smooth sandbag. His sleeveless was a white veriety of Jacob's with black lettering. His jeans were torn and he wore a golden cross over his collar, right next to his dogtags. 

 

Then there was Trent Reynalds, the most wolflike man Y/N very well have ever met without a beard, the lead singer and guitarist. When the band started, it was Jose who sang lead, but after a few standout gigs everyone agreed Trent had the more beautiful voice for it. He was the most sleepless of the group, with dark bags under his eyes telling of long nights spent writing songs and practicing alone. Even through his sleepy expression he smiled at Y/N, but only after taking a long drag from his blunt.

 

They all acted so nice to her, familiar. Before their journey even began, it was like she'd always been part of the group. 

 

And so they were off. With a hoot and cheer they raised cans of coka cola, a toast to the coming perfect gigs, sarcastically calling it now that nothing will possibly go wrong with any of them. Jose already had an arm around Y/N, jokingly naming her as the one who will prove to the world that Gettup is the most well organized band of misfits who ever riffed a guitar. 

 

The day was all spent traveling. Within the first hour, the group began hotboxing inside the living room esque space in the car until one of them had to open a window and let the smoke out or else Leon wouldnt be able to find his glasses in the smog. 

 

"So, Y/N" Trent said, looking right at her through the smoke with strangely wistful grey eyes, "What made you wanna hitch up with us anyway?"

 

"Say, aint she suppose to interview us?" Leon said with a smirk, puttin on square frame glasses. 

 

"Awe, she dont mind a little prying. Dont ya babe?" Jacob said, squeezing his hand around her shoulder as he pulled her in to lean against the side of his firm torso.