Country Girls & Dirty Secrets

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction. It is intended for entertainment purposes only and is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or representative of any real individuals, including the public figures mentioned. Any resemblance to real events, actions, or personalities is purely coincidental. The depictions of real people are entirely fictional and do not reflect their actual behavior, beliefs, or personal lives.

Vol. 3- Megan Moroney and Emily Ann Roberts

In Nashville, the first week of June meant one thing...the CMA Fest. Hundreds of thousands of fans flew into Nashville for the week-long country music festival. Every artist would be there, if not performing, at least making appearances around town. It was chaos and I honestly didn't know how anybody enjoyed it, besides getting to say you saw all of your favorite artists.

There were two main shows, the Riverfront Stage during the day, that was usually free shows from up-and-comers, and the show at Nissan Stadium at night, which was basically a three night long concert. If you've ever seen the CMA Fest on TV, it was usually recorded from performances at Nissan Stadium. The Grand Ole Opry usually put on a big show or two, plus there was hundreds of pop-up shows happening all over the city.

Although my main job was at the Opry, there was such a high demand of audio engineers during the festival, that I would end up running all over town, and make tons of money. So, it was chaos, but I enjoyed it.

In the weeks leading up to the festival, I was contacted by numerous organizers, managers, stage runners, etc, all looking for an audio engineer to help with their show or event. I said yes as much as I could, while working with my schedule at the Opry.

The first event I was working that weekend just so happened to be the opening event of the festival, the Riverfront Stage concert. I arrived incredibly early that morning to help finish the set up and get the audio going. The first singer, doing the national anthem, was set to go on at 10:50, while the first artist, Megan Moroney was going on at 11:00.

I had been there for about an hour when Megan arrived. Even wearing sweatpants and a University of Georgia sweater, Megan was absolutely gorgeous. Like the majority of artists performing this weekend, I had met Megan a few times at the Opry, and had instantly become a fan, not only of her music but of the short dress she liked to wear. She didn't remember me as I helped get her in-ear monitor on her, and sent her out on stage for a quick soundcheck.

I had to turn her soundcheck over to another engineer as I dealt with some other details but I jumped back in when I heard Megan having issues hearing herself. I walked out to her on the stage, telling her I was changing out her pack, and felt my fingers brushing across her ass when as I did so. When she confirmed that it worked, she asked, "Aren't you the guy from the Opry?"

I nodded my head as I said, "Yeah, that's where I'm normally at. But, I'll be here all day. Name's Cole."

"I'm glad you're here. I'm Megan," she said before launching into another song for the soundcheck. When she was done, she waved bye as she walked off the stage, walking out of my view as she went to get ready for the show.

The venue opened up their doors a few minutes later and I laughed as the crowd of people flooded in. I made the stage crew laugh, asking if anybody wanted to switch with security. We made the last second preparations for the show as the crowd filled in and got some pre-show music going for them.

Megan came back out fifteen minutes before she was supposed to be on stage. She had spent the time away doing her hair, make-up, and outfit and it was easy to see why she was becoming Nashville's new "it" girl. She looked like a doll that had come to life. Long, tousled blonde hair framed her face and spilled over her shoulders, bouncing with every step she took. Her skin had a soft, sun-kissed glow, and her legs, toned and tan, drew every eye when she walked across the stage. There was a natural curve to her hips, subtle but undeniable. Just like she was.

She wore a tight white crop top with a bold blue heart across the front that read I'll See You Next Tuesday. It hugged her chest just enough to tease, and every little breath seemed to stretch the fabric a bit more. Her denim shorts were cut high and frayed at the bottom, tight around the waist, hugging her ass and showing off all that leg. White cowboy boots pulled the whole look together, adding just enough country edge to remind you she knew exactly where she was. She liked to call her the Emo Cowgirl, but she dresses more like a princess cowgirl.

She performed a short set that day, ending around thirty minutes after she started. She had one minor technical glitch with her monitor and pack, but I quickly got it fixed, getting a beautiful smile from her when it was done. As she came off the stage, I helped her get her pack and in-ear monitor off as she thanked me again for my help.

"Of course," I told her. "Just doing my job."

"Does that job give you any breaks this weekend? Or you running around like the rest of us?" She asked me, unexpectedly hanging around.

I laughed before I said, "Let's just say this, I'll be here until just after one, then I need to pack up my equipment, and get over to the Ryman, where I'll be until probably midnight, if not later. And tomorrow, I start all over again here."

"That doesn't leave much time for fun, now does it?" Megan asked as she leaned over some equipment, using it to push her breasts up and together.

"I mean, depending on the time of fun, I could be convinced to take a little break," I told her, making it obvious what I was looking at.

Megan, with a mischievous smile on her face, stood up, and walked over to me. She put her hand on my cheek, acted like she was going to pull me down to her level, but stopped before my face reached hers. She let out a cute little giggle and said, "You're cute," before walking past me and leaving the audio area. I turned and watched her leave, my eyes never leaving her butt as it swayed side-to-side."

The next artist went on a few minutes after Megan left. Halfway during their performance, a member of the stage crew walked up and handed me a piece of paper that had been folded in half. Nothing unusual, especially during a festival and somebody wanted to make the audio crew aware of something. I quickly opened it up and was caught off guard by the message inside it.

"Text me when you're ready for that break. Meg."

It also included her phone number and a little heart next to her name. I quickly refolded it and put it deep into my back pocket, deep enough that it wouldn't accidentally fall out.

I left the Riverfront stage a few hours later after I passed the audio duties off to another engineer. As I climbed into my SUV, I pulled out my phone and the note from Megan, and typed her number into it, clicking the button to send her a message. I debated on what to send her before settling on, "Hey, it's Cole. Just finished up at Riverfront. Got a short drive to the Ryman, but don't have to be there right away. I'm thinking it might be a good time for a break."

It really was only about five minutes to the Ryman, maybe ten with traffic. Short enough that I could have walked if I didn't have some spare equipment in the back of my SUV. I waited a few minutes for her to respond but when she hadn't, I made the drive over to the Ryman.

When I arrived, I finally heard the familiar "ding" of my phone getting a message, quickly followed by a second. I opened it up to Megan's message which read, "Hey Cole! While I would love to join you for that break, I'm unfortunately heading into a meet and greet. But, here's a little help for it!"

I scrolled down to see that Megan had sent me a picture, but quickly set my phone down and looked around to make sure nobody else was around to see it. She had pulled her blonde hair up into a messy bun on top of her head, had her back to the camera, had her shirt and bra off, and had that same mischievous grin on her face.

I looked at the picture a little longer, dreamed of the possibilities, before putting my phone away and getting out of my car.

That night at the Opry was a full show and nothing seemed to want to go right. Technical problem after sound problems after grumpy artist. By the time I left at midnight, I had had enough and couldn't wait to get back to my apartment and get what little sleep I could.

That little bit of sleep was interrupted when my phone started to ring. I quickly glanced at the time and the caller. It was just barely five in the morning and Cindy, the lead organizer of the Riverfront Stage was calling. Wondering what emergency would prompt the early call, I answered by saying, "Hey, Cindy, what's up?"

"Hey, Cole, I got a huge favor to ask," Cindy said on the other side. "Actually, two."

"What's up?" I asked again as I sat up in bed.

"I'm running the CMA Close Up stage this afternoon and one of my sound guys quit last night. Is there anyway I could borrow you for it? Would only take about an hour, after you leave Riverfront and before you head to the Opry and I'll definitely make it worth your time," she asked, almost pleading.

I had actually worked the Close Up stage the year before and really enjoyed it. It was indoors and the crowd wasn't as big, as the artists performing were lesser known. "Yeah, I can do that," I told her.

"Thanks, I knew I could count on you," Cindy said.

"What's the second favor?" I asked.

"Oh, this one you can say no to if you want, since its out of your wheel house. But, I figured I would ask somebody I trust. I have an artist flying in to perform on the Close Up Stage and her ride to downtown fell through. Would you want to pick her up from the airport and bring her in? I would compensate you for any gas used and time it takes," Cindy explained.

"Sure, I can do that. It might be a nice little break, actually," I said, wondering if I knew who the artist was.

"Thank you so much. I'll send you her details and a picture to make it easy. I owe you one, Cole," Cindy finished before hanging up.

I closed my eyes for a second before my phone dinged. "Her name is Emily Ann Roberts. Flying in from Wisconsin at noon. Here is a picture."

I laughed to myself at Cindy thinking I wouldn't know or recognize Emily Ann Roberts. Emily was a regular at the Grand Ole Opry and a favorite. So easy going, kind, a charm to be around. And extremely pretty. I closed my eyes again, images of both Emily and Megan bouncing around my mind.

I arrived at the airport shortly before noon and made my way to the baggage claim area, after I confirmed that Emily's flight was on time. I had a card with her name on it, just in case she didn't recognize me.

I didn't have to use the card because as soon as Emily rounded the corner to the baggage claim, she saw me and yelled, "Cole Anders! I'm so glad to see you!"

We gave each other a quick hug as she told me about her concert last night, flying late at night, getting the message that her driver bailed and that I would be picking her up, and everything else going on in her life. Emily was full of southern charm as she talked, her Tennessee accent really coming through. Where Megan was like a doll come to life, Emily was like a girl-next-door fantasy wrapped in soft curls and a sharper mind than you'd expect. She was a blast to be around and I couldn't help but smile as we talked and walked to my car.

"Oh, my gosh! Look at myself go, just talking about me and completely ignoring you. Cole, how are you doing? How are things at the Ryman? Are you running around like mad this weekend? I can't believe you found the time to pick me up."

I laughed as I loaded her bags into the back of my SUV and went around to the passenger door to open it for her. "Such a gentleman," she remarked.

As I got into the driver's seat, I told her a little bit about what I'd been up to and how crazy the festival has been. She asked a bunch of questions as I drove out of the airport's parking lot and almost immediately hit a standstill of traffic.

"Oh, drat, I was hoping we would miss all this," Emily said looking around at all the cars.

"Me too. It might take us two hours to make the thirty-minute drive," I said.

"Well, if that's the case, I might just have to use your backseat as a dressing room. As long as you promise not to look," she teased, looking around at the backseat.

"Promise. Scout's Honor," I replied back.

From the corner of my eye, I watched as Emily climbed into the SUV, her white sleeveless jumpsuit swaying loosely around her legs with every step. The soft fabric caught the morning light, hinting at the curves beneath without clinging. She smelled faintly of citrus and hairspray, fresh, clean, southern.

She gave me a quick, apologetic smile as she eased her way between the front seats, one hand braced on the console, the other adjusting the strap of her bag. Her curls bounced with every shift of her weight, thick, honey-blonde ringlets that framed her face perfectly even in motion. She was graceful without trying, her movements more natural than rehearsed.

As she stepped into the backseat, the fabric of her jumpsuit shifted across her hips, catching for just a second before falling back into place. She let out a soft laugh under her breath. "Hope I didn't just put on a show," she teased.

I swallowed, clearing my throat, trying to focus on the road ahead. "If you did," I said, "it was a good one." I was doing my best to keep my eyes on the road as I heard Emily reach into the backseat and pull one of her bags over. I was true to my word, not looking back as Emily changed, muttering and mumbling to herself.

When Emily climbed back into the front seat, it was hard not to stare. She wore a cropped, silky yellow button-up, unbuttoned just enough to tease, rhinestones catching the light on each cuff. Her high-waisted white pants popped with bold floral prints, golden roses, pink lilies, green stems rising like artwork. A silver chain hung from her hip, and her mirrored boots flashed beneath the hem.

"That's better," she said, reaching back to grab another, smaller bag. As we slowly crept along the highway, Emily started to undo her hair from the ponytail it was in. She used the visor mirror to finish her look, touching up her curls with her fingers, brushing on a hint of blush, and adding a soft gloss to her lips. Each movement was quick, practiced, and natural, like she'd done this a hundred times before. By the time she snapped the mirror shut, she looked effortlessly perfect. Just in time for the traffic to come to a stop again.

"Oh sugar fart. I had hoped we'd be closer by now," she said, a small frown on her pretty face.

"Yeah. We might be here for a minute," I said, pulling out my phone and sending Cindy an update.

"I guess I can think of one way to pass the time," she said after a few seconds of silence.

"What's that?" I asked, looking over at her as she adjusted in her seat.

Emily didn't say anything as she reached her hand out, placing it on my groin, and softly rubbing my cock through the jeans I had on. I looked down for a second before looking over at her and asking, "Emily, what are you doing?"

"Sush now, Cole, just enjoy it," she responded as I grew harder at her touch.

Fucking a married Miranda Lambert, with her reputation around town of sleeping around was one thing. Ella was rumored to be in a relationship, but nothing was confirmed, so I felt safe there. But, Emily was by all accounts happily married. Was I really okay with her touching me? "Emily, you're married. You shouldn't be doing this," I said, reaching down and attempting to push her away.

Emily was persistent, pushing my hand away as she started to unzip my jeans. "Oh, fiddlesticks. It's just a little old blowjob to pass the time. You'll enjoy it as a thank you and Chris doesn't have to find out. It's not like other women haven't done much worse to get ahead in this town."

By now, Emily had my jeans opened and her hand was fishing for the flap of my boxers. When she found it, she easily pulled my hard, thick cock out, wrapped her hand around the shaft, and started to stroke it up and down. "That's what I thought," she said as she adjusted a little more to lean over the center console.

As I slowly inched forward with the SUV, Emily stuck out her tongue, flicking the tip of my cock with it, before wrapping her lips around it, and she started to bob her head up and down the first few inches of my shaft.

As she stroked the lower portion of my shaft with her hand and used her mouth on the upper portion, I fought to keep my eyes on the road, biting my lower lip as she moaned around my shaft. Briefly taking me out of her mouth, Emily said, "Just remember, if you rear end somebody, Cindy will have your behind."

I laughed as she went back to blowing me, taking her time, seemingly savoring every inch of my cock that she could get into her mouth. Her well-manicured, soft hand was rubbing up and down in a twisting pattern, adding to the pleasure that her mouth was giving. We kept going like that for a mile or two down the road, slowly picking up speed as we got closer to our destination.

Emily was as consistent with her blowjob as she was with her attitude, keeping up the same motion and pressure until I warned her that I was coming. When she felt my cock pulsing in her mouth, she went as deep as she could go, and used her hand to pump my cum out, swallowing it as quick as she could.

When I was done, Emily sat back in her chair, made sure her make-up was good, and said, "See? That time passed like it was nothin'."

I made a vow to myself to make sure she sounded as good as possible that day.

The next day was the final day of the CMA Fest and I was thrilled for it to be over. But, I was even more excited because halfway through the day, as I drove from the Riverfront Stage to the Ryman Auditorium, I received another text from Megan Moroney.

"Hey, do you want to come to my apartment tonight? I go on stage at 10 PM, should be done by 10:30 and can be there at 11, if you'll still be awake."

I got her address and told her I would be there.

As soon as I was done at the Ryman, I immediately drove over to Megan's apartment. She opened the door on the first knock and pulled me inside, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down to begin kissing her.

I wrapped my arms around her waist and easily lifted her tiny body up. Her long blonde hair hung loose, bouncing around us as we made out and I walked over to the couch in her living room, sitting down on it and pulling Megan onto my lap. She had on a pair of white and pink shorts that hugged her hips and showed off her bronzed legs. A snug white crop top clung to her curves, barely containing her cleavage and begging to be taken off.

My shirt came off first, Megan tossing it behind us. My hands were on her ass, grabbing a handful of each cheek as she rolled her hips on my groin. As our lips parted and our tongues swirled together, I moved my hands up, hooking them into her crop top and starting to pull it up. When I noticed that she had on a white sports bra under it, I grabbed that as well, and pulled them both over her head, briefly pausing the kiss to do so.

I cupped her breasts, squeezing them tightly, feeling her nipples harden at my touch. Megan moaned into my mouth as I used my fingers to pinch and rub her nipples. Megan unwrapped her arms from my neck, put her hands on the back of my head, and started to push me down as she ended the kiss. She brought my mouth right in front of her left nipple and held me there, continuing to roll her hips back and forth, pressing her groin into mine.

I was surprised by the size of Megan's breasts and nipples. All the times I had seen her, I figured she was using a push-up bra and padding, but I was wrong. They were a little big for her body, but looked amazing. Her areolas were rosy pink, with the nipples perfectly situated right in the center. I stuck my tongue out and licked all over it while keeping my hands around her full breasts, softly squeezing them from the sides.