The following story is a work of fiction. All celebrities presented here are real people, but they are treated as characters in this story. The text in no way implies any knowledge of the celebrities' true sexuality or actions, and it is not intended to suggest that the celebrities are straight, bisexual, or homosexual. This is from my imagination only; the events depicted here involve sexual acts with a minor, are fictional, and should not be considered fact. If you are underage in your location, please do not read.

Author's note: I've always been a fan of heavy metal music, and Guns N' Roses (at least the original incarnation of the group) has always been my favorite metal band. Axl Rose and Slash, in particular, were big turn-ons for me, and sometimes still figure prominently in my fantasies. I've written about such celebrities as Aaron and Nick Carter, Ryan Sheckler, Vincent Kartheiser, the Sprouse Twins, etc., and I thought I'd try a different kind of celebrity here. Hope everyone likes this little diversion...


Used by Axl Rose

by hottcarter1987


Now that I'm an adult, I look back on my teenage years and wonder how I survived them. By the time I was 12, I was such a troublemaker, getting into absolutely everything. I had by then been drinking, smoking, getting into some minor vandalism, and partying quite frequently. I started smoking pot at 13, and I lost my virginity to a girl shortly after that. One night after I turned 14, I fucked a guy for the first time, and it was so awesome that I labeled myself bisexual ever since. Still am. There just wasn't anything I wouldn't try once. At that time, I also had an affinity for heavy metal music, mostly the hair bands like Poison and Warrant, and let my brown hair grow down my back, wore leather and torn jeans a lot, and gotten tattoos on my back and upper arms. My parents didn't know what to do with me, so they basically let me be, though they didn't know a quarter of the shit I was getting into. Suited me just fine.

The year I turned 15 was the year that Guns N' Roses came out with their first album, Appetite for Destruction. It was 1987, and I listened to this thing, and I then decided that all other metal boys were just posers compared to Axl Rose, Slash, and the rest of this group. The music was raw and pounding, and the guys were sleazy-looking and rough--and hot as shit. I bought as many Guns N' Roses magazines and posters as I could on my tiny little salary working part-time at McDonald's, and I would lock myself in my room at night, playing that record over and over, jerking my cock, while Axl and Slash stared at me from my wall. My favorite poster had them decked out in leather, with Axl giving a fuckin' mean look to the camera, and Slash smoking his ever-present cigarette and posing with his guitar. I can't tell you how many loads I shot using that poster or how many fantasies I had getting double-teamed by that pair. Of course, I fantasized about the other members, too, but Axl and Slash were the main men for me.

As luck would have it, Guns N' Roses had announced that they would be appearing in concert at a nearby city a week after I turned 15. I lived in a small town then, and big-named groups and singers rarely came that way. But to have not only a heavy metal group make an appearance close by, and to have it be Guns N' Roses--well, to say I was excited was the understatement of the decade. I managed to save up enough money for a ticket, and me and a couple of like-minded banger buddies of mine made our way to that concert. One of my buds, Ethan, had his driver's license, so he took us across the state line, and we drank and got high on the way. It was a killer road trip.

We managed to get awesome seats--third row center--and rocked through the greatest concert ever. Guns N' Roses fuckin' owned that stage, and my friends and I banged our heads through all the classic shit. "Welcome to the Jungle," "Paradise City," "It's So Easy," "Rocket Queen," "Sweet Child O' Mine," and my personal favorite, "Anything Goes." Axl Rose didn't have a shirt on the whole time, and the sweat glistened off his hot body as he wailed and screamed each tune. Slash was lookin' ultra-sexy as well, wearing his leather jacket for the first half of the show and goin' bare-chested in the second. I popped a boner early, and my cock stayed stiff as a board the entire time. My friends knew that guys, especially these guys, turned me on but didn't say anything as I openly groped my hard-on repeatedly through the concert. It didn't help matters much that we were constantly smoking dope the entire time. I was really loose by the time the show was over. My buddies wanted to go to the nearest club, but I was feelin' bold and announced that I was going to sneak backstage. Ethan warned me not to try it as he had heard that Axl didn't like people going back without an invitation, and those were few and far between unless I was a chick with a nice booty and big tits. I didn't give a fuck and told them to leave without me. I had enough money for a cab to join them later at whatever club they were going to. Ethan said to meet them at a place called the House of Sin as they didn't card you there, and soon they were gone.

I managed to worm my way backstage by grabbing some stage equipment and taking it with me. No one stopped me because my long hair, leather jacket, and ripped up jeans made me look like any of the roadies. I was able to set down the equipment and made it all the way to one of the dressing rooms labeled "Rose." I had hit the lottery. I could meet my idol and simply claim to be helping the crew. I lit up a cigarette and waited near the door. People came and went past me, but before long, everything got quiet.

As I lit another smoke, I heard a string of curse words coming from around the corner. "What do you fuckin' mean? No motherfuckin' chicks? FUCK!" I recognized Axl Rose's voice. "I'm fuckin' horny, you son of a fuckin' bitch! I told you to have some fuckin' chicks at my fuckin' room, and you fuckin' got no one! Fuck you, motherfucker!! Get the fuck outta my face!" Suddenly, I got the urge to run. My idol didn't sound like he was in a good mood, and he might beat the shit out of me if he caught me. Before I could beat a hasty retreat however, Axl came barreling around the corner and, seeing me standing there, he barked, "Just who the fuck are you?!" He was still wearing the extremely tight white pants he'd had on stage, and the excessively obscene bulge of his king-sized cock made me gulp hard. His long red hair was still damp with sweat, and his bare chest glistened. The tattoos running up and down his arms were bright and colorful, but his glare was one of almost pure hate. I didn't say anything for a second, which prompted him to bark at me again. "I asked you a fuckin' question, bitch! Who are you?!"

He got right up in my face, and I stammered, "I-uh-I-I-uhm-w-was helping w-with the roadies."

"Bull-fuckin'-shit," he said. "You sneaked back here, bitch. I don't like that." He glared at me, and his eyes ran up and down my body a couple of times. "But you're back here, you fuckin' little shit, so come with me." He grabbed me by my hair and pulled it hard enough to make me wince. I dropped my cigarette, and he pulled me into his dressing room and threw me down on the large cot that was there. I sat up and looked around. The room was small and sparsely furnished. Only a make-up table, the cot, a couple of folding chairs, and a table made up the décor. On the table was a couple of packs of cigarettes, some cigars, liquor, a bag of pot, a bong, and a couple of six-packs of Budweiser. Axl grabbed a cigar and lit it, blowing his first puff of smoke directly in my face. "I hate it when fans sneak backstage without permission, you bitch. But I'm horny as fuck, and that motherfuckin' manager didn't get me no pussy tonight, so guess what I'm gonna do?" I swallowed hard and nervously shook my head. With the cigar in his mouth, he stepped up to me, grabbed the back of my head, and pushed it into his bulging crotch. "I'm gonna take your ass and make you my fuck for tonight." Lewdly, he rubbed my face all over his crotch. I could smell the sweat from his body, and that impossibly large dick of his pressed hard against my cheeks. "And don't even think about fightin' me, faggot. I'll beat the livin' shit outta you. You hear me, cunt?!" When I didn't answer, he pulled back and backhanded me. I fell to the floor. He kicked me in the stomach and screamed, "YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME?!"

"Yes, sir," I weakly replied.

"Good!" He rubbed his cloth-covered manhood and took a drag of his cigar. "How old are you, faggot?"

"I'm only 15, sir," I said in a quiet voice.

"Ever been fucked?"

"No, sir."

"Bet you've sucked cock." I nodded. "Good. Gonna rape your queer ass and bust that cherry. That'll teach you for comin' backstage without a fuckin' invite." He reached down and pulled my head up to look at him. "You'd better not tell anyone about this, cockwhore. You don't wanna know what I'll do to you if I find out." He took the cigar out of his mouth and spit on my face. Releasing me, he ordered me to strip. I stood, my body shaking, and I undid my pants. I was scared shitless--I'd always dreamed about Axl fucking me, but now that I was here with the object of my fantasies who was intent on raping me, I just wanted to run as fast as I could away from him. As I took off my leather jacket, Axl growled at me and slapped me so hard across my face that I saw stars. I crumpled onto the cot. "Not fast enough, bitch!" he yelled. He leaned over and tore my Guns N' Roses t-shirt off, ripping it in half, and did the same to my bikini underwear. Now naked, I began to cry. He hit me again. "Poor fuckin' faggot," he sneered at me. "Cry all you want, fuck boy. I'm gonna get what I want anyway, so just keep bawlin'. Makes me hot anyway. Fuckin' faggot bitch!"

"P-please," I begged. "D-Don't do this..."

Axl straddled my head and pulled out his cock. It was a very thick, uncut dick and had to be at least 11 inches. I cried out, knowing I'd choke on that thing. Puffing away at his cigar, Axl grabbed the back of my head and ordered, "Swallow it!" Fearing he'd hit me again, I opened my mouth, and he rammed the entire length of his heavy metal rod into my throat. I violently choked and sputtered all over his member, but he built up a ramming speed quickly. "You bite me, motherfucker, and I swear I'll beat you so fuckin' hard your momma won't recognize you!!" To make sure my mouth would stay open, he pinched my nostrils closed so I'd have to breath through my gaping jaws--not that it was easy with his anaconda penetrating my esophagus, but somehow I managed to get enough air in to keep from passing out. I don't think it would have matter to Axl anyway; he'd have just raped my unconscious body.

As I lay there being forced to suck his dick, Axl smoked away and emitted the most savage grunts I'd ever heard from a human being. He released my nose and began smashing his groin into my face. His sex stayed hard as steel as I felt it move ever deeper into my gullet. His pubes, which were bushy and as red as the hair on his head, smelled of sweat and musk as they smashed into my nose. He cursed like a sailor as he bucked into me, calling me every name he could think of, but his favorite was "faggot," a term I never really liked. I could do nothing, though--Axl Rose was in charge, and he was owning me.

I lost track of how long the forced blowjob lasted, but eventually he pulled out. He smacked my face a couple of times then wiped his dripping dick all over my cheeks and mouth. With each pass of his enormous dick head over my lips, I tasted my spit and his overabundant precum, and I won't say it didn't taste good `cause it did. But as I looked at his sneering face, I ventured to ask him, "W-Why are you d-d-doin' this to me?" My voice was very weak and scratchy from having been brutally raped.

Axl took the cigar out of his mouth, spat in my face, took a deep drag of the stogie, and leaned down. He blew a great cloud of smoke into my face and said in a low, animal voice, "Why? `Cause I'm fuckin' horny. `Cause I ain't got no pussy around. `Cause you're a fuckin' faggot, and faggots like dick." He took another drag and blew the fumes in my face again. "Now, shut the fuck up before I kick your ass." He stood, put out the cigar, and lit another. He ordered me to bend over on the bed. "It's time to take your fuckin' pussy to school, faggot. I'll show you the only thing you're good for."

I got into position and raised my butt into the air. Glancing behind me, I saw him grab a drumstick from the corner and twirl it in his hand like most rock stars I'd seen do. Axl's big cock bounced as he walked, and I felt sick to my stomach as I realized that it would eventually be inside of me. If the forced blowjob was bad, I knew he'd fuck me just as hard, if not twice as hard, up the ass, and he'd make it hurt. "Let's warm up that cunt a bit," he said, and he shoved the drumstick deep into my ass. It didn't really hurt as it was thin, but Axl used the knobbed end to massage my prostate. The feeling was incredible. I gasped in ecstasy as I felt the wooden end press and rub that sweet spot, and my dick got so fucking hard. I moaned and groaned loudly. Axl smacked my ass and laughed. "I knew you'd like that, queer. Faggots love shit like this." A couple more minutes of that, and I shot a huge load of cum all over the mattress underneath me. Axl laughed again and pulled out the stick. He stuck it under me and wiped it around in the sperm puddle I'd made and told me to open my mouth. He pushed it in, and I could taste my ass mixed with the cum. "Good boy," he grunted. "Better make sure you clean Steven's drumstick, bitch. He'd be real mad if you messed it up." He was referring to the band's drummer, Steven Adler, about whom I'd also fantasized.

After I'd spit-shined the stick, Axl pulled it out of my mouth and tossed it back into the corner. He pulled my hands behind my back, and I felt him tie my wrists together with one of his trademark bandanas. He then stuffed another one in my mouth and tied a third over my lips. "That'll keep your bitch mouth shut while I rip into your faggot pussy. Don't need the whole fuckin' world to know what I'm gonna do to you." He pushed my head deep into the mattress, and I felt the head of his cock press against my sphincter. I smelled the cigar fumes and felt his grip on my head increase. "Now, you fuckin' queer," he said, "you're gonna know what a real man does to pussy bitches like you."

His 11-inch dick ripped into me, and for the second time that night, I saw stars.

I'd never experienced pain so intense in all my young life. Axl's cock stretched my rectum in ways it was never meant to be stretched. I'd fucked a couple of guys before this, but I never imagined how much it hurt, and now I was on the receiving end. I screamed into my gag, but Axl only laughed and smacked the back of my head. "You'll think twice about comin' backstage from now on, you stupid pussy!" he yelled. I struggled in vain underneath him. "Quit movin', or I'll make you really hurt!" Though I wasn't really sure how he could hurt me more than I was already hurting, I stopped moving. I could hear his groin slapping repeatedly into my ass, and I felt his gigantic penis as it rammed in and out. My love knot was sending pleasure signals to my brain, but it was a tiny voice against the fierce, sharp stabs of agony that came from my shitter. Axl was packing my shit so tight I thought it'd take weeks to take a dump.

Before long, I felt him pull out. He turned me over and said, "I'm gonna knock your fuckin' ass up, and I wanna see your faggot face while I do it. Take it, bitch!!" He grabbed my neck with both hands and squeezed while his dick traveled back into my abused boy cunt. Sometime during his rape session, Axl had put out his cigar and was now looking at me with a very angry expression. His hair flew around his head as he double-timed his fuck. Suddenly, the rocker screamed, shoved his horsecock all the way inside me, and I felt the ultra-thick shaft convulse against the walls of my rectum. This was quickly followed by the heat of his semen as it sprayed from the tip of his dick and flooded my insides. He was squeezing my neck so hard I nearly passed out. "YES!" he cried. "Oh, motherfuckin' shit! Damn!! FUCK!!" He cursed over and over as his penis kept shooting and shooting. He didn't move his hips at all, making sure his baby maker was buried as far as it would go. When his cock stopped ejaculating, Axl ripped off my gag, smacked my face, and crawled up to straddle my head again. I was gasping for air, which made it easy for him to plant his still-erect member all the way into my throat. "Clean it off, you stupid fag!" he ordered harshly. I sucked and sucked on that dick until he was satisfied, tasting his sperm and my ass juices.

When everything had calmed down, he hit me across the face again, untied me, and got me to my feet. "Get dressed, whore!" he screamed at me and lit up another cigar. Just after I had put on my leather jacket and turned for the door, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. Breathing smoke over my face, he snarled in my ear. "Remember what I said, bitch. You say anything about this, and I'll know where to find you. And if I ever see you backstage at one of my concerts again without permission, I'm gonna fuck you even worse than tonight. Got it?"

Fresh tears came out of my eyes as I replied, "Yes, sir."

Axl then did something I didn't expect. He licked my cheek and whispered, "I'm not a fag like you, but you've got a great piece of ass back there. If I'm in town again, you better bring it around again. The other guys would like to fuck it, too. And I'd love to watch." Still holding me by my hair, he put the cigar in his mouth, reached over, and opened the door. He hurled me to the floor outside and said, "So long, faggot. It's been nice rapin' you."

The door slammed shut, and for the next couple of minutes, I sat there, smelling like cigar smoke, sperm, and sex. My asshole was leaking from all the cum he had dumped into me.


My buds had come back for me, finding me smoking a joint while sitting on the sidewalk outside the concert hall. They thought somebody had beat me up because of the red marks on my face and the shiner I had around one eye. I didn't let them know I had just been raped, so I told them that one of the roadies and I had gotten into a scuffle. They drove me home, and I was real careful not to let them see the wet spot on the ass of my jeans.

I straightened myself out after that night. I quit the partying scene, though I still drink, smoke, and once in a while, I toke up. I never attended another Guns N' Roses concert for fear that Axl would see me and want to fuck me again. But every now and then, if I hear the band on the radio or see a video on the web or even see a news story about my former metal idol, my ass twitches, and I swear I can almost taste that dick of his. And I've never told a soul, not even my current boyfriend, what happened the night I was raped by Axl Rose.