“Maybe,” she said, “but not now.”
Chapter Twelve
ZELDA FOUND ME A pair of denim cut-offs. They were, surprisingly, a bit large on me, so they obviously weren’t hers. Hanging a little long and quite loose, they didn’t look too bad. They made me look young and vulnerable, and in a way that I had always flinched away from. Now, it somehow gave me a sense of power.
Rocking a look like that, but being proud and unafraid with it, that was a charge. The room downstairs was full of raucous men, men of raw, brutal masculinity. But I felt that I could be secure among them. Maybe only because of the power that I saw Blaze had with them. But maybe not, maybe I was awakening something of my own.
Zelda was not satisfied with the cut-offs. She gave me a black leather belt with a silver buckle that cinched the waist nicely, some black stockings with garters – again, obviously not hers, and only slightly laddered. With a pair of black heels, my calves looked terrific and my firm, shapely thighs were set off fantastically in the space between the stocking tops and the denims.
I knotted up the thin tee-shirt under my bouncy breasts. Zelda tied my hair up with a thin, black lacy scarf that hung over my shoulder. It was a hot look. With those clothes and my curves, I could rock.
I turned my hips, then my shoulders to look in the mirror.
Zelda said, “Yeah. I’d fuck you.”
Looking at her beside me in the mirror, I thought, Yeah, I might fuck you, too. Now was not the time and the time might never come, but we both knew that it could happen.
“Practice with the toothbrush and the bananas. Try for about ten minutes, wait about five minutes, try some more, OK?”
I said, “It could take a while to get it perfect, right?”
Zelda said, “Has Blaze struck you as a patient man, Lucy?”
She went back downstairs to leave me with my homework. I practiced for what seemed like a long time, but I made good progress, and I began to love the well of energy that spread through my body as I resisted the urge to gag on the bananas, going deeper and deeper into my throat.
The thought of his thick, hot shaft, slick with my saliva, sliding slowly in between my plump and swelling lips, all the way along its length until finally his huge huge purple head reaches, pushes then breaches the top of my throat. The thought of it sliding all the way down, like he would be so far inside me. My throat muscles and my lips would tense and pull at Blaze‘s hot, hot urgent cock.
They would slide him all the way in, then all the way out, and then begin a rhythm, a heat, a beat. The thoughts made my mind fuzzy. My fingers found the side of my cut-offs. The side where Zelda had slid her fingers. My hand slid under my panties, stroked and rubbed my soft mound and
I thought of Blaze. Pictured him. I thought of him playing the hit song for me, in front of tens of thousands at the stadium, seconds after he’d plunged his fabulous cock so far up my tender ass, taken my anal virginity.
My fingers rubbed slowly, firmly, rhythmically, and my thighs clamped together as my pussy squeezed out sweet-smelling juice and the tingling, mounting, flooding waves of ecstasy charged through me and I came with a long sigh.
I took a delicious nap on the chaise-longue, and when I awoke I tried my new banana trick one more time. It was still difficult, but I could do it, and it felt powerful and exciting. The thought of testing my skills on Blaze’s humongous cock thrilled me in the pit of my stomach. Thinking of how it would make him feel. Of how I would feel, with him inside me. So much of him, so deep inside me. And of how it would make him feel.
I wondered whether it was worth trying the remaining bananas up my ass, but decided they weren’t tough enough for the task, so I returned to the bar downstairs.
Chapter Thirteen
I TOOK A TABLE near the back. Zelda had some chicken wings and fried potato skins sent over with a beer. People looked over to my table, but nobody bothered me. Probably because they’d seen my arrive with Blaze.
Loud rock pumped out from a sound system, and a small stage nearby had a couple of silver poles. Three skinny girls wore sparkly g-strings with paper money hanging in the straps. They climbed and spun on the poles, pushed and squeezed their tits, flicked their nipples with their tongues and ground their hips for the customers.
They’d lean over and push their breasts out for a guy, turn and bend over to wave some tush at him, generally encouraging more paper money into their g-strings. The customers seemed to like the game, and they’d cheer, yell, whistle or whoop every now and then. It appeared that a couple of dollars would buy quite a lot of groping, but everybody seemed happy enough.
Girls sat at tables or hung at the bar, and occasionally a girl would take a biker through the door that led out back and upstairs. They’d be back about fifteen or twenty minutes later.
As one song faded down and another was fading up, I heard the crackling roar outside that I immediately knew as Blaze’s Harley. I couldn’t see all the way through the crowd, but there was no mistaking the cheer that greeted the opening door.
Soon I saw him, leaning his head into Zelda’s ear. His eyes flashed and shone. She shrugged, but at the same time her eyes twinkled at me. I lolled in my chair, feigning as much indifference as I could. His eyes were on me as he strode through the crowd. His grin flashed dangerously as he took my hand.
His eyes brushed over me, from toes to tits, and his tongue flicked to moisten his lips. He called over to the table where the band were sitting, “Hey!”
They all got up like it was a command from god. They jumped onto the stage and grabbed their instruments. Blaze pulled me toward the stage, and he spread smiles and pats around the three skinny girls as we displaced them to the edge of the platform.
He held me in front of him, pulled me to his hard, rippled stomach and chest. My mouth brushed and licked his neck and my nostrils filled with his mix of clean and dirty scents. A sweet note, like a tummy after a shower, and dark waves of secret, unspoken things. My soft breasts pressed against the ridges of his hard chest.
The band started up with the riff from Lovelace Lies Bleeding. The crowd were already shouting the chorus, Get that monkey OUT OF HERE!
I slid around him. The video for the song had no dance routine, so I took some of the moves from Work, Bitch and I mixed them up with Rhianna’s dance-hall twerking from Work. As I danced, I looked out for Carl. When I saw him, he seemed to approve.
With the band motoring behind us, Blaze played and sang, and I danced. The skinny dancers were picking up the moves, too. I was having such an amazing time, I wanted to invite them up too.
I remembered that the stage was Blaze’s, though. If he saw them, he might ask them onto the podium. I would stick to doing what I was doing. Under the hot lights, I danced. My moves were sharp, precise, like Carl taught me.
Every move meant something. Said something. I wove the turns and the jumps into the song and I made them tell the story. Following my moves, the three dancers didn’t wait any longer. They jumped up to the podium. In a triangle behind me, we went through Britney’s routine, with the Rhianna spin that I’d blended in.
We moved like waves, like a sea. Like we were one. I felt how they followed me. When I dipped, they dipped. When I turned, they turned.
Carried on the beat, riding the rhythm and the melody, energy surged from the core of me and radiated through my limbs. I trembled near the verge of orgasm until the end of the song.
I was so hot I could hardly breathe but the energy of the band and the audience carried me. The song was like an engine, keeping me moving. Right to the huge ending. A long, rising, soaring roar with a roll on the drums that got faster and faster. Then the huge explosion of the final note.
The yell and stamping noise of the crowd was so loud it was painful. Over the roar of the crowd, Blaze held his guitar high and shouted, “Heroes all!”
Bikers were right there in front of me, yelling and shouting but the sound was one, indistinct rush. Blaze waved his arms in the air. Bikers pushed bottles of bour
bon at him, as well as blunts, pipes and little packets, but he just put his hands on his hips, grinned and waved.
He pulled me up by my hair and took me down from the stage, through the parting sea of grinning, shouting bikers to Zelda’s table. My tee-shirt hung ripped and wet over my swollen, swinging breasts and grazed my hard, over-sensitive nipples.
My shorts hung low, almost open to my crotch, and my black sheer panties were no more than a tight, wet string. The stockings were completely laddered and one raw knee poked out through a rip. From my head to my knees I was shaking and soaking wet. To say that I had ‘Bambi legs’ would be an understatement.
Half of those bikers might have cum right in their jeans at the slick, bedraggled sight of me, pushing my way through the crowd.
I barely made it to the table and I fell more than sat into the chair. Blaze basked in the celebration. I reached across the table for the bottle of Jack, and took a long, deep swig. Zelda put her hand on mine and looked in my eye. Her voice was quiet and low, and she said,
“You could have stolen the show from him there, Lucy.” Her grip tightened on my hand, “You need to be careful, girl.”
I said into her ear, “I’m not under any illusion, Zelda, it’s just the sex, I’m sure it is.” I didn’t want to believe that but I had to keep reminding myself. It was probably true, after all. As brightly as I could, I said, “I’m okay because I have the summer break so I don’t have to tell anyone where I’ll be and I don’t have to report in anywhere. I don’t believe that I can trust his feelings, but I’m okay for some fun.”
She held my arm tighter. “His feelings are real enough. You just need to be aware of what the consequences might be. He can be very unpredictable.” She looked in my eyes, “You have to know, Lucy, he has demons. Don’t forget it.”
Every part of me was exhausted, and I needed to put together what she was telling me. Still looking very serious she gave me a card and said, “You can always call me here.”
Chapter Fourteen
BLAZE TOOK ME TO his hotel room that night.
After the night we had, I was expecting either he would be exhausted and crash out or that he wouldn’t be and we would have a night of banging, wild sex. I was betting on the sex. Definitely I was hoping it would be the sex.
So it took me by surprise when he stayed up all night, we stayed up, and we just talked. We talked like we already spoke the same language, like we both had all the right signals. He was feeling some of the chemistry that I was, I knew it. The number of times we said the same thing or our movements synchronized proved it. We’d see something and our heads would turn at the same tame to each other.
Like we had cut the line where you have to adapt to being with a new person. The getting-to-know-you part seemed to be optional, like we’d already got it covered in some way.
It took some time before I realized what the thing was that we’d left out. And the reason why. For now, it was unreal to be just hanging and chatting with a huge megastar but, really, the way that we got along, like we just somehow ‘got’ each other was the really amazing part.
He had a band of his own, but he hadn’t been playing with them. He had only been doing guest appearances with Organ Grinders. Now he was talking about getting together with his band, making some new tracks. He had ideas, “I just haven’t given them the space to grow.”
We sang the songs together and I harmonized. Sometimes on the chorus, sometimes behind a word in a verse. It sounded great. Afterward he even said so.
He said, “Sometimes, you see someone, you just know. There’s a psych test students sometimes do. A whole lot of people who never met before, you put them in a big room and you say, “Form into groups. No words allowed. No signals, only eye contact.”
“And?”
“They always form into groups with affinities. Similarities in their family history. Same size families, only children, orphans. Things like that. Even the people who don’t have a ‘family’ group, the outsiders, they bunch together. They know. Instinctively, that’s who they need to be with.”
I didn’t know what he was getting at. “You and me, Lucy. That’s how it was. I saw you. I knew. We were something.” The thought came to me as he said it, I knew. We were something. Yes, Blaze. But what? I didn’t say it.
He said, “Organ Grind are playing in Portland tomorrow night.”
“Oh.” I said.
“I’ll go. Maybe get out and play a song or two with them.”
“Oh.”
“Want to come along?”
“Er, yeah.”
Chapter Fifteen
IN PORTLAND, HE BROUGHT me out to the stage again. It was as much of a thrill as it had been before to step into the wings backstage, with the huge crowd just feet away. The lights spilling back to the wings were magical to me.
His voice poured into my ear, warm, dark and low. “It’s fantastic having you here with me,” his eyes gleamed, “Here backstage. As well as out in front,” his arms wound around me, “And everywhere else.” I felt his pulse, the strength of him. “this is really something special,” he said, “At least it is for me.”
He took me into a corner of the backstage area where no-one could see us. “I want you so bad,” his voice was feral. I wanted him. I slung my arms around his neck and pulled myself close, feeling every part of him against me. Tasting his breath.
Lights spilled into our little hideaway from the stage, giving him a halo, sometimes red, sometimes blue. Always exciting.
His hand found where my tee-shirt was knotted, and then he yanked it. Hard. The loose cotton ripped, straight from the low neckband and down. From the audience, I was aware of a roaring cheer. I shook with anticipation when he lifted my bare breasts into the spill of the lights. Heavenly thrills sparked through the whole of my body as he put his face between between my breasts. He made long, wide, muscular licks in the valley. Underneath them. Around them.
I ached for him so hard. I gasped as he sucked each of my throbbing nipples. “Blaze,” his name ripped out of my throat like a roar. He sucked, long and hard and slow, as he pushed his hand up into the back of my cut-offs. He grabbed my ass from beneath, and squeezed it in a rhythm to match his sucking on my tits.
I had to lift one leg, to give him access but also to keep my pubic bone grinding into his hip. I wanted all of him inside of me and I wanted to be wrapped in all of him. The fact that we could be found at any second made it even more urgent. And even more intense.
My hands clawed at him. His muscles, hard and hot rippled under my grasping nails. I dragged his shirt out of his jeans. Then plunged my hand in. As I found the hot, hard rod of his cock pulsing inside his soft, white pants, he jolted like an electric shock had blasted through him.
I felt hot, wet juice drizzle down the inside of my thigh out of my panties and from my shorts to my stocking tops. As I gasped, I realized that there were just one or two boxes between us, grasping at each other ad panting hot into each other’s mouths, and an audience of thousands of people.
I pulled and tugged to open his belt. Then his jeans. I hauled down the waistband of his soft white pants and out came that fat, hard rod.
His hand gripped in my hair as I squeezed and rubbed along the length of his cock. A long moan tore out of me as I felt the hard heat of his cock in my hands. My lips and my tongue dragged all the way down his neck, stopped to bite on his chest, licked the ridges of his six-pack. Then I licked him from side to side across his hips.
On my knees I held his shaft. I licked my lips as I faced his shining, purple head. It twitched and jumped in my hands. I dove onto it, plunging deep, taking him right to the back of my throat. I paused as much for effect as for composure, then slowly I slid my lips, gradually along and all the way down till my wet lips met his wiry pubes.
The feeling off power and control coursed through me and mixed with the electric thrills that crackled though my trembling thighs and my hard, stinging nipples.
Dirty Rocker Page 5
