Smoke and tired country music snake their way to me as I push the back door of the bar open. The dim light makes the hallway appear in twilight even though its mid afternoon.
“Johnny, honey? Is that you?”
A cigarette-roughened voice calls to me from the manager’s open office door. Before I have a chance to respond, a bleached-blond head sticks out and a heavily made up woman scans me from head to toe.
“Hey, Carla.” I answer. “Yeah, I’m checking to make sure the equipment is set up right before our gig tonight.”
“Come on back and see me when you’re done, ‘kay?” She bats her black spiky eyelashes at me.
“You got it.” I walk past the owner and sure enough, her hand comes out to give me a light pat on the ass.
“Looking good, Johnny.”
There’s really nothing I can say to that which won’t make me sound arrogant, so I give her a smile over my shoulder and a mumbled thanks as I continue into the main bar area. The stage is off to the left, set only a foot or so off the main floor.
The drum set with the band’s name, Butt Boy and the Receptacles, painted in orange on the largest drum facing out, looks good. As does the wiring, cords, and connections to the two guitars and keyboard. Lead singer for an all-girl band wearing hot pants may sound like a joke, but I’m having the time of my life and hope the string of paying gigs doesn’t dry up anytime soon this summer. And since I don’t wear the hot pants, I’m cool with it.
By nine p.m. tonight, this run-down place will be hopping before the customers know what hit them. I wind my way through the tables, nodding to one or two die-hard afternoon drinkers on the way. Back to the narrow hallway and I’m next to the small office. There’s a beat-up leather couch and a tired-looking desk with an armless chair in front for visitors. A tap on the doorframe brings Carla’s attention to me. I lean against the opening, waiting to hear what she needs.
“Come on in, darling. And shut the door.” She smiles at me as she stands, smoothing a short, black skirt over her rounded hips.
I do as she asks and head to her desk. “Having issues with tonight?”
She runs a manicured hand up the side of my arm and pats me on the shoulder. “No, no issues.” Warmth lingers in her blue eyes, a touch of mischief in their depths. “I was wondering how you came up with your band’s name?”
Uh-oh. The campy, tongue-in-cheek name was meant as a publicity stunt, but the expression on her oval-shaped face and the lingering touch on my arm tell me she’s interested. “It’s just for shits and giggles,” I answer.
Her resting hand curves over to my back and trails down to my denim clad rear. “Are you sure? You certainly have a nice ass.” She emphasizes the statement with another pat. “I couldn’t help noticing in these snug jeans.”
How far do I want to let this go? My secret desire may be to fuck every one of my gorgeous band members in the ass by the end of this summer, but I don’t want to mess up our jobs by dallying with an owner who employs us. Word could get out and then gigs may get cancelled.
“Umm…uh, thanks. The band name really was meant as a goof.” I stand perfectly still, wondering where she’s going to takes this. Her hand is no longer resting on my ass, but gently caressing, causing my cock to stir and take notice. After all, Carla has enough cleavage on display to tempt any sane man into looking.
“Like what you see?” Her voice drops deeper as she presses one large, soft breast into my bicep.
“You’re a beautiful woman, how could I not?” I say.
She reaches out and grabs my left hand, bringing it up to cup her gently. “Go ahead, baby. I’ve been dying to touch you since the second you came in asking to play.”
Well, this is certainly a first. I’m glad most of the other bar owners are men or this could get really awkward. Her breast feels full and heavy in my palm, giving slightly as I press gently, searching for a nipple to tease with my thumb. My cock starts to lengthen and harden, wondering if it’s going to get to come out and play.
Carla rubs my growing firmness over the button-fly of my jeans. “These hug you like they were made to fit your cock.” She grabs the top edge and pulls the pants quickly, showing exactly why the button-fly is still my favorite jean of choice: quick release.
Cool air hits the heated skin of my dick as I spill out my pants.
“Oh, no underwear—you bad boy. You must have been hoping this would happen.” She takes a firm grip on my woody, like she’s afraid it will run away or something.
Secretly, I’ve been hoping to bang Ginger, the spicy, redheaded guitarist that joined the group last week. Fumbling to escape boxers or briefs can ruin a moment. But I always go with no underwear on a day I’m scheduled to perform. Makes me sit up and take notice of the girls in the audience more.
Carla starts to stroke my cock in slow motions. “Ever hopeful.” I get out before a sigh escapes. “That’s me.” Reaching up a few inches, I peel the clingy red top away from her lush curves, exposing one lacey bra-encased pert nipple.
I tweak her extended tip, twisting a little bit to test. Some women like things rough, some like them gentle, some like me to lead, some want to be dominated and others still…well they want to “seduce” the young twenty-four year old musician and hope to teach him a thing or two. I never know which one I’m going to be with next and have a repertoire of skills to pull out when needed.
She moans and presses into my hand. I give her a sharper pinch; close to bordering on pain, and her breath catches in her throat. “Oh, yes. Like that.”
Her strokes slow on my cock and I decide to test the waters in one more direction. I bend a bit to the side and reach around the manager’s backside. I deliver a stinging slap to her mini-skirt covered rump. “Don’t forget my cock.”
Her body jerks forward on impact, while her grip tightens a bit on my prick. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The attention to my shaft resumes and a bit of pre-cum leaks out to moisten the tip.
Carla bends at the waist, bracing herself with one hand against the desk, to take my cock into her mouth, breaking my grasp on her nipple as she does so. The moment her wet, full-lipped mouth engulfs me, I know I’ve got her number. She wants me strong and directing, or else she’d be a little pissed at my comment and not ready to blow me.
The attractive, early-forties woman is in shape. Her ass didn’t have any extra jiggle when I gave it a smack and I pull up her miniskirt to see what she’s got to offer. A firm, curvy butt greets my soothing caress.
“Mmmm…” She mumbles as she pumps up and down on my cock. The head tickles the back of her throat and she’s using just the right amount of suction. Her wet mouth feels hot and giving, but I can’t lose track of what I really want — after all, almost anyone can give good head if they try.
I slide a hand between her ass cheeks, push the slip of her thong aside and plunge my finger into her waiting pussy. Her wetness coats my digit as I slip in, confirming that she’s more than ready for our encounter. I pull back a bit and add a second finger to the mix, relishing the tightness of her opening and enjoying the feel of her wet sheath wrapped around my fingers.
Tracing a moist path to her puckered ass, I tease the ring, waiting to see how she reacts. Her attentions on my cock grow more frenzied. If I’m not careful and she doesn’t slow down, I could wind up shooting earlier than I’d like.
I deliver another sound smack to her ass. “Slow down, Carla. You don’t want our fun over too soon now, do you?”
She pulls off my cock, turning her kohl-darkened, lust-filled gaze up at me. “No. I certainly don’t.” She resumes her former attentions, but much slower, and wiggles her ass a bit to entice me back on track.
I slip my still wet finger back into her pink, tight pucker. Hoping I’ve found an anal sex fan in our new employer. Every now and then the fates shine down on a poor musician. I’ll take luck any way it comes. I pump in and out, developing a nice rhythm in time to her slower sucking.
Before I have a chance to add a second finger to her ass and see how readily she could take me, the office door bangs open and her moist mouth pulls off me in a flash. We both whip around to the direction of the sound.
Oh geez, is she married and I’m totally screwed?
Please return on September 29th for the continuation of this serial fiction piece. C.J. will also be posting a Sex Toy Review on the 15th.
Copyright © 2010 C.J. Ellisson
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.