Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 19

My tongue flicked Boh's clit as she ground her body against my face, squealing loudly as she hit her climax. Monika laughed at my expression as her friend rose from my cheeks. "No orgasm for you," she teased, flicking the tip of my stiff cock. "You're getting engaged tonight. Save it for Nats!" I groaned, resting my head on the carpet as my horniness burnt through me. I was so close and the teenage domme ran her hand affectionately through my hair. "You'll thank me later!"

We cleaned up and ordered a takeaway. The prompt service was a little too quick, and we were still undressed when the doorbell went. Monika sent Jamie, naked, and me in my underpants to open the door and collect the Indian banquet from the startled delivery driver.

He never cared, and we ate our curry dressed in our underwear. "You OK?" Monika asked as I quietly scoffed my Jalfrezi.

"Yeah. It's just weird. I want to be engaged to be married tonight, but I spent the afternoon having sex with others. Doesn't make me a candidate for Fiance of the Year!"

"You did exactly as your fiancee demanded." Jamie replied, and he was correct; Natasha wanted me to experiment and play, but the nagging doubt never left my mind.

We showered and dressed. Jamie wore a neon pink tartan kilt with black stockings, bubblegum Doc Martens boots, fuschia T-shirt and a dark leather jacket. With their red hair, they looked exceedingly attractive, and Monika squeezed her boi's bottom. "You look like an easy lay!"

"According to you, the slut is!" Bohdana joked, causing Jamie to smirk. We travelled by taxi to the theatre and took a spot on the open "dancefloor" near the stage. Nessie worked in the atrium with a giant table of T-shirts, hoodies and other merchandise and I sent the three teenagers to her stall with a few quid to get a momento of the event.

My heart pounded as the thousands of punk rock fans entered the theatre. My spine tingled as my girlfriend came onto the stage in her tank top, shorts, fishnet stockings and heavy boots.

The crowd screamed, and the noise echoed around the listed building; the acoustics were not great, but that made for an atmospheric experience. I'd heard every song dozens of times as they practised in the annexe, but these renditions were wilder and louder. Paula's guitar riffs were stronger and punchier, and Yasmin's beat was harsher. Their sound dominated as it bounced off the walls of the Victorian theatre, and it sent thousands of fans into a delirium.

Natasha plugged their new album, and they played their Christmas song, that would be released in December, before they did their final few tracks, finishing on their iconic Wake Up, by Rage Against the Machine.

My heart pounded as I felt the ring box in my pocket once more. I wanted to ask Natasha that night backstage. Watching her command the stage with her spine-tingling vocals that caused my hairs to stand on end, it brought back the memories from Bristol and every moment since. She made me feel alive, and like life was worth living. She meant everything to me, and as the show drew to a close and my lover hit her last note to raucous applause and screams, Faye took her microphone and walked to the front of the stage.

"Where's John?" She asked, scanning her finger through the crowd. Her eyes fell on me at the side of the hall, and she beckoned me towards her. "This is John. Come here. He is Natasha's boy and the head of our UK fan club. It's thanks to him and his pad out in the country that we got to record our last album and he looks after our lead singer."

"Faye, what are you fucking doing?" Natasha barked.

"Come on," she said to me as I worked my way through the throng of fans to the front of the theatre. Laurie, their curly-haired driver, roadie and security personnel, stepped aside to allow me onto the stage. "Give him some love as he gave us rehearsal space and beer and pizza and was just a damn fine bastard when we needed it." She looked at me, standing on stage. "And he has something he wants to say, right?" She passed the microphone to me. "Something to ask Natasha."

My hands shook. I had three thousand pairs of eyes waiting to hear what I had to utter. My lover had infamously humiliated me on stage previously, but this made me so much more nervous. I touched the ring in my trouser pocket and cleared my throat. "Natasha," I called. "You know how much I adore having you in my life, and that I... err... really love you and... well..."

My heart pounded, my mouth felt dry, and my eyes watered as I reached into my pocket and got down on one knee in front of my girlfriend. "What the fucking fuck?" Natasha squealed.

"Will you marry me?