tagRomanceOut of the Burlap Ch. 02

Out of the Burlap Ch. 02


Joe and Maya hadn't seen each other since she dropped him at home the Saturday afternoon after the Friday night and Saturday morning reunion. Unfortunately only via speakerphone late Saturday night had Maya joined her lovers pleasuring each other. It had to be late since she worked stripping earlier. And she had to join them due to immense horniness albeit unfortunately in her bedroom miles away. When all had recovered their breath that night she invited him to her apartment after he worked Monday.

And so Monday evening Maya wrapped around Joe as soon as he arrived in her basement apartment, only separating to remove clothing before he held her firm round little butt cheeks in his hand and thrust deep as she could take and rapidly into her frothing cunt, banging her back against a wall that helped take some of her weight. As they climaxed together even the wall couldn't help hold her. They collapsed onto the floor still with him embedded in her shooting the last of his seed inside her, their mouths sealed together like their groins.

Only when his cock loosened in deflation becoming flaccid and slipping out letting the combined juices from her cunt ooze onto the floor did their lips part to allow their laughter to fill the room.

And then he stiffened up in all ways except for his penis.

"Joe," she murmured. "It's okay."

"I know," he replied softly and tightly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't make me slap you."

They chuckled, though his was noticeably stiff.

Sighing, she lifted off him, kissing the top of his head. "I have something for you," she said. "Why don't you get dressed?" She headed into her bedroom.

"Okay," he gulped.

When she returned fully clothed, he as well, she led him to her couch. "Sit," she ordered. She held a glass of water in one hand and two small round objects in the other and with beautiful grace managed to straddle his lap facing him. "Open," she told him, gesturing to his mouth. "Stick out your tongue." She placed the white pills onto it and handed him the water. "Drink."

After drinking, he asked what it was.

"Percocet," she told him.


"I got to like it when I used it to combat the pain of my boob job," she told him. "Insisted I had residual pain to renew the prescription, but figured it would get suspicious if I kept that up, so I weaned myself off it and only take it when I need a dose of lovely calm."

"I got prescribed Valium once," he told her. "When my muscles hurt from the tension, and I got chronic headaches. It left me feeling sort of cottony and even worse, it left me feeling even more uncomfortable when it wore off."

"This is different. This is an opiate," she explained.

"Oxycodone," he nodded. "I know."

"Come on then," she grinned, hopping off his lap. "Grab this." She handed him another guitar case, this one more slender though heavier. Darting away, she returned with a stuffed olive green soft bag with a shoulder strap she lifted onto his shoulder. "And this."

"What's going on?" he asked.

"A surprise," she smiled.

They stopped at a Middle Eastern restaurant on a prominent corner in South Minneapolis. "Guard the stuff," she said before kissing him quickly and darting into the restaurant. It seemed longer than the fifteen minutes it took her to return with a full white bag of food. She fed the meter and opened the trunk, pulling out her acoustic guitar case. "Lock the door and grab my stuff," she ordered him. "It's only a half block away." They crossed the two main streets and stopped at a non-descript screen door between storefronts. Setting down her guitar case, she opened the door and the wooden door behind it revealing a hallway angling around a large metal door. "Go on in," she said.

After she grabbed her guitar and set it by the metal door, she opened it to a set of steps. A splash of cymbals could be heard. "Go on down," she told him.

He recognized two of the players; Sean "Spike" O'Connor, a pretty boy blond in his thirties on bass, and Jake "Spoon" Spooner, the rugged, dark dreadlocked, muscular drummer, about the same age as Spike. Both had impressively colorful tattoos on their arms. Both had been journeyman musicians involved in many bands, most notoriously "Plaid Cab," that had featured a guitarist moonlighting from his internationally famous punk band, the "Reverants" AKA the "Vents" who had died from his weakness for narcotics, particularly a far too potent speedball, i.e. an injected mix of heroin and cocaine, a couple years before. Maya introduced them by their birth names.

"Hey Sean. Hey Jake. This is Joe." The musicians nodded and Joe returned the nod.

Spike's ever present smile widened. "Food," he exclaimed.

"Yes, you flesh eater, I got you two two gyros."

Spike put down his bass guitar and snapped the bag from her hands. She chuckled and shook her head. Spoon opened an old fridge and pulled out a handful of beer bottles.

"This is Annie," Maya informed Joe, walking up to the thin, cat's eye bespectacled girl standing behind a keyboard and kissing her briefly.

The strawberry blonde pale skinned girl nearly as tall as Carol but near skeletal responded with a shy, "Hi."

"Come share the hummus with us," Maya asked her.

"Okay," the shy blonde squeaked. Her simple blouse and long skirt revealed when she stepped out from behind her keyboards along with her ponytail that allowed wisps of her wavy hair to float in the breeze her walk caused and the old fashioned glasses gave her a shy librarian look that somehow made her sexy.

On the ratty, overstuffed coach they sat at, Maya was sandwiched between Joe and Annie holding the pint container of hummus between her knees. All three dipped the soft, warmed pita into it--pieces torn off the round bread--and consumed a good portion of the garlicky, smooth mix of ground up chickpeas and sesame paste. Between chews and swallows they gulped down the smooth local lager from clear long neck bottles.

"Where's Connie?" asked Maya.

"Fashionably late," grumbled Spoon in his rough baritone.

"Errand," Spike corrected in a much higher voice. "Should be here soon."

"Soon" turned out to be just after everyone finished their meals. They heard the metal door open and deep, bass curses and objects bumping against walls. The deep voice surprised Joe, expecting a female voice. A large man as tall as Joe with long dark greasy hair and a goatee emerged at the bottom of the stairs, his hands and one arm filled with three instrument cases for three horns, one immense, which he kneeled down to carefully release onto the ragged and thin carpet on the floor.

"Conrad, this is Joe." Maya introduced. Joe felt the strength of the man in the handshake.

Joe saw the three male musicians nod at each other. "Be right back," said Spike as he led them up the stairs.

Maya sighed. "Spike's family owns the building," she explained, "and Spike lives upstairs."


The music amazed Joe when it finally began. "Gong" was definitely the reference with its flowing jazzy intervals, very stony, yet with more of a bite, especially as the song built.

Along with amazing musicianship from all involved, he couldn't help noticing the three men rubbing their noses every so often when they weren't playing and saw the signs of heroin. He too rubbed his nose occasionally. He felt pretty stoned himself, but gently so, calmly so. He actually felt more comfortable than he ever had except when lost in the arms and inside the cunts of his two lovers recently.

When it ended, Maya asked Joe if he had any suggestions. That pleased him almost as much as hearing his lyrics involved in such a cool song. "Actually I do," he told her. "But I'll need a CD to illustrate. I only live about four blocks from here. If I run, it shouldn't take more than a few minute to get it."

Maya nodded and smiled. "Let's work on a new song of Joe's while he's gone," she said to her band.

He felt like he ran on a cloud when he ran home. In the bathroom mirror he looked at himself and his silly grin. He looked paler than he expected. Something else looked different. He leaned closer and realized despite the fairly soft lighting his irises could barely be seen they were so small.

Grabbing the CD he intended them to hear wherein a musician intentionally destroyed a CD to get accidental noises from playing it bringing a weird tension to the rhythmless music, he also scanned his shelf of blank books and picked out one in particular. Despite the number of them, his mind somehow enabled him to know which held the lyrics he wished Maya to read and hopefully transform into music. The song had a similarity to some of the Doors' long pieces with an interlude of spoken poem which he hoped wasn't as overdramatic as Morrison had gotten. He ran back to the rehearsal space.

The jaunty, quirky tune he heard when he descended the stairs pleased him. Again it reminded him of Gong at their most playful, but with a synthesis with Maya's own style of melody. It transformed into a freeform jazz blast that lasted a bit too long but revealed again the amazing musicianship of all involved. The musicians laughed when they finally ended unevenly. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, always a good sign, especially from jaded musicians such as Spike and Spoon. Even Annie laughed freely.

"What you got for us?" asked Maya.

"I don't know if Annie can do this on her synthesizer," Joe shrugged, "but..." He shoved the CD into a large boombox Maya pointed at.

The musicians listened with more care than he expected. Annie played with knobs on her homemade synthesizer that rested at an angle to her keyboard. Clicks and groans came forth, and she somehow fed them into the keyboard creating samples for different keys.

"We're not getting that weird," Spoon finally said.

Maya shook her head. "I want melody, but when we get into these long spacey moments, we can expand the sounds horizontally so to speak, filling it in as thick as we want. It's definitely got some tension to it." She looked to Annie who nodded and smiled.

"I like it," Annie said just loud enough to be heard.

The boombox happened to be next to Spike. In fact he owned it. When Spike gazed into Joe's eyes, he laughed.

"What?" asked Joe.

"You're pinned," Spike answered. And Joe noticed Spike's tiny irises. "You're high."

"Percocet," Joe admitted.

"Cool," said Spike with his inevitable grin.


"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Carol shouted late that night; actually early the next morning. The stud Joe had outdone himself making love to his women before her exclaiming. He fucked them silly, lasting far longer than he ever had before climaxing into Carol and, after taking more time than usual to recover despite two sets of hands and lips on his cock, even longer into Maya. When Carol asked how he seemed different, not just the endless fucking before cumming, but his incredibly relaxed nature and goofy smile when they shared a late meal together and a joint, even nodding off a couple times, the last being awakened by kisses from his two beauties which led into the bedroom and the marathon fucks, Maya told her about the Percocet and thus her reaction.

"No Maya," Carol explained. "I'm alright with pot. There's something natural about the high and if not done all the time it helps excite and sometimes brings insight and feels good. With you two especially because I never get that paranoid feeling I get sometimes when I'm not with the ones I love. The same with alcohol. Occasionally but not daily is great for loosening up bodies and tongues. But when you get into chemistry, cocaine or heroin or Percocet or whatever, it's never good except to numb. They're poison. They weaken you and transform you into...nothing."

"What are you talking about?" Maya replied. "Have you even tried it?"

"Sure, when I got injured, twisting my ankle something awful, but only until I didn't need it; only for a couple days. I just felt rung out from it."

"It feels good," Joe murmured.

"But it's all you'll want," Carol argued. "Your life will become that inert feeling or the wish to gain it again. You'll lose all ambition."

"Hey, I'm only a high school graduate who works in a record store," Joe retorted with a wry grin. "I'm not all that ambitious."

"You should be," said Carol. "You're a powerful dancer."

"Not to mention an incredible lyricist," Maya added. Carol smiled at her when she added to her argument. "What? I still think he needs relief from his 'burlap' condition," Maya told Carol.

"Is that ambition, though? Or is that talent that somehow nature bestowed on me," Joe countered. "And what of it? I'm in a small if brilliant regional dance company and you know yourself Maya that too few great rockers ever get beyond the local scene. Ambition only runs into walls eventually except for a handful of successes. I mean more than half your band's junkies, and..."

"What?!?" Carol screamed. "Let me see your arms, Maya."

Maya laughed. "You've seen my arms and the rest of me." She showed Carol the hollows of her elbows showing no tracks. "I hate needles," she admitted.

"They're great musicians, Carol," Joe said, "but they know they have nowhere to go. So they get high and strung out and it lets them feel..."

"Nothing," Carol finished.

"Exactly," Joe nodded.

"Joe," Carol sighed, "I'm sorry for this painful self-consciousness or whatever, but it's a part of you as much as your dancing and your writing and I bet it feeds those talents."

Joe could only nod.

"But..." Maya began before pausing to collect her thoughts, "I hate seeing him building that wall of tension and climbing behind it. I hate it! And how do you know it would be so harmful to him? You can see how...free he is."

"I just know," Carol replied, her head bowed sadly.

"You said you had Percocet, and that's chemical, but have you tried it at its pure form? Opium?"

"No," Carol admitted. "But I've heard of those dens in China where addicts can't even sit up from their beds."

"It's all about moderation," Maya argued. "Just like you said about pot and alcohol. I get high sometimes. Joe can too."

"Maybe," Carol sighed.

"Let me give you the experience of it. Just a one time thing or maybe very occasionally. It's fucking expensive after all."

"You have some?"

Maya nodded.

"I've got to sleep," Joe murmured. "I'm up in...shit...three hours."

"Sleep, lover," Maya smiled kissing him on his forehead. Carol kissed him there too. "Come on Carol," Maya said. They left Joe to sleep, which he did almost immediately.

When he awoke, blurry and hazy as if inside a cloud of cool smoke, he stumbled into the living room to find his lovers wrapped around each other under an afghan exhaling a quiet counterpoint of snores. On the low coffee table sat tin foil blackened at the center and a copper tube about six inches in length and a half inch wide. Joe lifted and sniffed the foil and smelled the sweet residue still lingering.

"Opium," Maya explained, startling Joe. "I wanted to give a taste of opiates in pure form to Carol."

"Did she like it?"

"Unh-hunh," Carol breathed, stretching under Maya. "Felt wonderful, like riding a cloud. Luckily it's too expensive to get addicted."

"I just got a little from Spike," Maya explained. "He's got all kinds of connections. When I told him of my prescription version of what he takes up his veins and that I could never do that, after he cringed with the thought of burning heroin, which I guess you can do but its wasteful and harsh, he was nice enough to sell me a ball of the opium, barely a thimble full really and it cost me a hundred bucks. I managed to save a tiny bit for a special occasion."

"So...No more left?" Joe asked, the need barely hinted at but there. His ladies looked at each other. Carol had a more serious expression than Maya's, a sort of "I told you so," look and Maya shrugged.

"Sorry Joe," Maya replied. "I did plan on giving you that last taste, but Carol's...attitude changed my mind. And it's rare. I'll let you know if I can get some more."

Joe nodded. "I better get ready for work."

"I'll make coffee and toast bagels," said Carol slipping out from the afghan and from under Maya, revealing a cute white with light pink and pastel blue little polka dots pajama top not quite long enough to cover her black bikini cut panties. "You go take a shower. There should be a spare toothbrush in a top drawer of the sink cabinet and a disposable blade for women, but I'm sure it can handle a man's beard."

"Thanks," said Joe smiling at her and at Maya sitting up on the couch and revealing another of Carol's cute pajama tops, this one with bunnies, that draped much lower on her like a mid thigh dress.

Having showered and changed into his uniform of black t-shirt with the record store logo and black jeans (his choice) and scarfing down a bagel and cream cheese sandwich and swallowing down Carol's delicious and intensely strong coffee, Joe had a little time for hugs before rushing out the door.

"He didn't tense," Carol noticed. "Maybe he's comfortable with us."

"Or maybe it's residual from the Percocet," Maya opined.


Tension returned with a vengeance once blurriness cleared his mind. He used it at dance rehearsal and released it afterwards when, exhausted, he bedded down with Carol after only a couple kisses, although they had been heartfelt and comfortable. He awoke with the intense pleasure of Carol sucking his morning wood and soon fed her cum with a roaring groan. The bliss he coasted on afterwards that made him want to linger in her soft bed in her soft embrace had to be fought through because he had to get to work and he wanted to reciprocate his pleasure on her tasty quim before hauling ass again out the door. He managed to bring her a good orgasm, nothing equal to the one she had given him, but she felt sated and he enjoyed giving her that both in loving her flavor and witnessing her orgasm.

Another busy day followed what with Maya inviting him to a rehearsal of her band immediately after work before heading to the West Bank for more dance rehearsal. At least he had slept long and well the night before.

Having gotten a ride from a fellow worker, a pretty brunette lesbian of indeterminate body shape what with her loose, manly clothing, a fellow worker more than a friend who had attained a fairly large following as a bluesy rock belter, and she was even nice enough to let him stop at his apartment to collect another blank book and a change of clothing before dropping him off at Maya's, Joe arrived unexpectedly early. He had to wait a couple minutes after shouting his name at her door before Maya opened it wearing a robe and nothing else.

"I was about to take a shower," she explained.

"I'll wash your back," Joe smiled.

"Among other things," Maya replied huskily, rubbing his crotch and the rising lump there and kissing him with all her might. "Get naked."

Once well scrubbed, especially her breasts and ass and his cock and balls, he knelt between her legs and tasted the second pussy that day, different but just as delicious. He didn't have time to tease, something he loved to do to intensify a girl's climax. He hadn't had time for Carol either. He promised himself he'd make time for both of them that night, as Maya planned to be at dance rehearsal and after.

As it turned out, Maya didn't even want him to finish her off with his mouth. Climbing near orgasm, she moaned, "Fuck me, Joe!" and pulled her pussy from his mouth. He stood and lifted her by her taut little butt cheeks and she aimed him in and he pulled her onto his shaft filling her to capacity, stopping only when he felt his head bounce against her cervix.

"Fuck me Joe," she murmured again, her mouth near his ear so he could hear her over the noisy shower.

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