I went to a live concert somewhere in the area to see a band I’ve been wanting to see. I was doing the usual thing with my Press Pass, getting close to the band and standing in “off-limits” areas. I gotta admit sometimes it’s nice to be privileged.
The band isn’t particularly good but they’ve got great stage presence, energy, and most of they’re easy on the eyes. The 5 of them seem to have a more than friendly rapport and they go for the goofy antics to make the crowd forget the singer is losing his voice, the drummer is off-beat, and that all their jeans are really, really tight…which isn’t a bad thing when you’re looking thru a 55mm lens (if you know what I mean).
Thirty minutes into their set they’ve come to realize when they come near my end of the stage I start flashing pictures of them, so they start to ham it up. At one point they start mock humping each other and the “bottom” guy winks at me.
I look around bashfully to see if anyone has really noticed but honestly, this show is filled with a bunch of scene kids between the ages of 16-19 and they’re either making out with their partner or moshing, definitely not paying attention to an old shutterbug in the corner.
Finally, it’s nearing the end of the show and the guys are all sweaty, shirts clinging to their thin frames, hair tousled all over their faces, and best of all they are breathless. I can’t help staring at the lead guitarist once the crowd scatters because his guitar is still hanging on his hip and he’s absentmindedly stroking the neck. It is a very phallic instrument.
“You like the guitar?” he asks, breaking me from my trance.
I guess he didn’t realize that I was looking just a tad lower than the guitar but I humor him. “Yeah, it’s nice, what kind is it?” I ask this even though I don’t care. But, he’s got a great smile and he chose to talk to me instead of one of the jailbait hotties.
“It’s a Serj Tankian Signature Model T5,” he states very proudly. This time he really grabs the neck of the guitar and strokes a few chords.
“I’m taking that as a good brand?” I say with a laugh.
“You could say that,” he says as he turns around and begins talking to the other band members.
I sit at a nearby table for a while and I start to scroll thru the 300-some photos I’ve taken over the course of the show. Some are hit some are really miss.
“Ahh so you were looking at my crotch,” someone whispers in my ear from behind me.
I jump a little startled and start to stammer, “Well, see…I didn’t…”
It’s the guitarist from earlier and he starts to laugh as he points to the digital picture in the frame of the camera I’m holding.
“Oh, that!” I say with relief. I honestly thought he had caught me being naughty earlier. “It’s hard not to get some random leg and crotch shots when I’m lower than you guys on stage.” I explain.
He laughs at my admission. We begin to idly chat about the show, the fans, where they get their material, other bands we both like, and everything in between. We’ve been talking for a good 20 minutes now before a fellow band member reminds that he’s suppose to be helping break down the set.
“I’m sorry, they’re calling me and I guess I can’t keep talking to you just to stare at your breasts, but I’d love to hang out more after this if you don’t mind waiting.” He ask this in such a sheepish manner I can barely muster anything close to a “No”. So I just nod.
As he walks away I start to get nervous. I start wondering what the hell I’m doing and where this will go. Before I can contemplate any more of my internal struggle he walks back over and simply says, “Follow me.”
He leads me out the back way and I realize that we’re heading out to the back parking lot. Once out the back door of the venue I see two tour buses and he’s making a beeline for one. When we arrive he opens up the door and calls out, “Anybody here?” and waits for an answer.
“Guess we’ve got the bus to ourselves for a bit,” he says this with a sly grin.
My camera starts to feels like a thousand pounds suddenly on my arm and I set it down on a nearby table. Just as I removing my hand from the piece of equipment he grabs my hand and places it on his “equipment”. It’s hot and it’s hard.
“See what you’ve done to me,” he asks.
I look up at him. A million things are running thru my mind but he leans down and kisses me. We start to kiss each other hard and tumble onto a tiny, bus-size loveseat. I bang my knee but hardly notice as he is ravishing any part of my breasts that are exposed. I moan a little between his lips and he grinds his hips into me. I reach down and start to fumble with the buttons on his jeans before he takes my hand away and in one swift movement is fully exposed now. I feel the hotness of his cock pressed against my leg as he lifts my skirt and parts my panties. He slides in and the slickness of my pussy allows for no friction at all.
We are fucking. Legs up, eyes shut, mouth open—fucking.
Then I hear from behind him, “What the fuck?! I thought there was no sex on the tour bus! That’s what the contract says!”
He stops pumping me and now I can see it’s a fellow band mate who has walked onto the bus undetected (probably from my moans).
“Dude I know, but…” he starts to explain before he is cut off.
“I could have fucked that blonde two days ago if I had known we were breaking the rules!” the band mate says frantically.
“Well maybe she won’t mind helping you out,” he turns to look at me as he says this.
I nod. “Sure if you want a blow job I can do that” I say matter of factually.
He looks perturbed. “I’ve got a tongue ring” I add quickly.
Now he smiles. “Okay, that sounds fair,” he says as he walks over to where we are, cock already half coming out of his pants.
It isn’t long before I’m sucking and fucking (and with good accuracy might I add), when we hear the door opening to the bus again. We try to compose ourselves but it’s too late.
This is another band mate, the youngest of the bunch. He stands in the stairwell of the bus speechless.
“I want sex on the tour bus,” is his first sentence.
I go to remove the cock from my mouth but the guy holds my head in place as he says “Sorry man, we…umm…we got carried away, just don’t say anything, we’ll be done here in a minute.”
“I want sex on the tour bus, this isn’t fair,” this time he’s pouting.
“Dude, she only has 2 holes, they’re occupied right now, maybe some other time.” The guy inside of my pussy says.
I start to mumble but can’t get my words out pass the cock in my mouth.
“What, what did she say?” one of them asks the other. I sigh and just hold up 3 fingers.
They look at each other for a few minutes and then the guitarist says, “Oh yeah! She does have 3 holes!”
There’s a glimmer of hope for the youngster and he starts to take off his semi-sweaty shirt but then a cell phone starts to ring.
Everyone freezes but it’s getting louder and louder. Is anyone going to answer that I wonder. Now it’s getting really loud and I realize it’s my cell phone ringtone. And in an instant I’m woken up.
I am breathing heavy, my blankets are twisted around me like I was a living tornado and my phone is ringing. It was just a dream…all of it was just a dream. I sigh with relief knowing that nothing bad has happened and I’m just overly horny with no release. I make a mental note that I definitely need to learn how to masturbate more.
***Note to readers: This was a pretty intense dream but I didn’t remember everything exactly as it was written, most certainly not all the dialogue. I remembered the major points and I went from there and filled in the gaps combining my writing and story-telling skills. Hope you enjoyed!***