The Adventures of Boipussy Pt. 13

Everyone on the tour knew they could sleep in late. Another flight was chartered to take the entourage to Miami for the second last show, so there was no need for an early start to anyone's day.

Pete got up to take a piss, and when he came back to bed, his boyfriend was just waking up. "Hola," Carlos said.

"Morning, sexy," Pete replied, and they kissed. Their kiss started out as a dull, nondescript gesture of 'good morning', but urgency slowly grew until Carlos rolled dominantly on top of his boyfriend, desperately trying to carve art on the back of Pete's throat with the tip of his tongue.

"We haven't consumed our marriage yet," Carlos whispered, his long, black hair cascading down onto Pete's chest, tickling his nipples. His dick was stiff inside his boxers.

"What?" Pete replied.

English was the Mexican's second language. "We haven't consumed ..."

"I know what you said," Pete interrupted, "but I think you mean 'consummated', not 'consumed'. Do you know what it means?"

"It means we get to have an extra-special marriage fuck," Carlos stated.

Pete looked up at his beautiful boyfriend, sighing as he tried not to giggle. An 'extra-special marriage fuck'? Carlos's occasional misunderstandings in English were so goddamn cute. "No, dude, that's ... no ... so, first of all, without going into details, consummation is a church thing, and neither of us are religious, so fuck that bullshit. Secondly, consummation comes after the actual marriage takes place, not after the proposal. And thirdly," Pete concluded with a devious twinkle in his eyes, "if you're gonna go there, it means I'm meant to be a virgin from now until we get hitched, so hands off." Carlos's erection strained inside his undies as Pete playfully rolled away from underneath him. He got up and began to prepare for the day.

"Babe," Carlos protested, pointing at his swollen log. "Don't you want some of this?"

Pete's pussy twitched. Of course he did, but he thought this might be a fun game. "Wish I could help you out," he shrugged, "but I don't make the rules."

Carlos felt frustrated. He desperately wanted to consume his soon-to-be marriage, and his morning wood wasn't going anywhere.

Pete jumped in the shower. His thick, shoulder-length red hair was shampooed into a lather when he noticed a shadow hovering near the bathroom door. It was Carlos, jacking off, watching him. Pete rinsed the shampoo away before pressing his ass cheeks firmly up against the glass of the shower cubicle, giving his boyfriend a good look at what he wasn't getting. He reached for the soap and ran it up and down his crack, pulling his cheeks wide, pressing them flush against the glass again. The shadow at the door disappeared, and Pete finished his shower. "Like the show?" he teased, towelling off next to their hotel bed.

"That was so fucking hot," admitted Carlos.

Pete smiled as he noticed a small ball of tissues next to the bed. He kissed his betrothed on the cheek. They got dressed and headed downstairs for a late breakfast before their bus left for the airport.

Touchdown in Miami went without a hitch, and the bands and crew checked in to their expensive, opulent home-away-from-home for two nights. They were just a block away from the coast. The weather was perfect, the sky was a deep, clear blue, and the rooftop bar and pool were sheer rock 'n roll decadence. Ace dived in like an Olympic swimmer, flicking his long, wet hair out of his face before ordering a cool beer. "This is the life, boys," he declared, holding his icy beverage skyward, toasting whichever benevolent deity had granted him this perfect day. "Welcome to the Sunshine State, the best place on earth." Pete used the pool stairs to wade slowly into the water, and Carlos followed. For such a warm day, the pool was surprisingly colder than they expected, and it took a few moments for Carlos to summon the courage to submerge his groin.

Almost magically, two more beers arrived -- one for Carlos, and one for his boyfriend. The three metalheads swam, splashed and drank, enjoying a perfect moment in the sun.

Candii arrived at the pool wearing dark sunglasses, a tight bikini and a pair of flipflops. Ace noticed she'd had her toenails painted black. She entered the water gingerly. "Hey boys," she said, kissing her rockstar on the cheek, "are you all having a good time?"

"Fuck yeah," Ace replied.

"This is the fucking best, Candii," spluttered Pete. He sipped his cold beer.

"I'm so glad, sweetie." Her fake plastic titties, barely contained within her bikini top, appeared to be almost buoyant. Lifeguards weren't required this afternoon. If anyone was in danger of drowning, Candii could've been used as a flotation device.

"By the way, I've got an announcement," Pete added. He glanced at Carlos, just to make sure it was OK with him. His boyfriend nodded. "Carlos and I are gonna get married," he beamed.

"No fuckin' way," said Ace. His mouth gaped open in complete surprise.

"Yeah," said Carlos, "it's true. I proposed to this idiot, and he said yes."

"Because this idiot loves you," Pete replied, throwing his arms around the Mexican's neck.

Candii clapped her hands together in glee. "This is the best news ever! A band marriage on our tour! Can we do something special to mark the event?"

Both Carlos and Pete shook their heads, waving the offer away. "Thanks, Candii," said Carlos, "but we'll organise something quiet once the tour is over."

Candii pouted. She had other ideas about that. But for now, the four of them splashed, played and drank, and under the surface of the water, Carlos could barely keep his hands off his boyfriend's juicy yet unexpectedly off-limits ass. As the sun began to set and the pool area began to quieten, Ace began to formulate plans for the evening. He was feeling a little drunk. "OK everyone, y'all are on my turf and in my hometown, and I'm taking y'all out for the night. Head back to your rooms, get changed, and we'll meet in the lobby in half an hour."

Ace escorted the foursome to a Cuban bar and restaurant not too far from their hotel. He knew the place well, having been here many times before. It was a warm, humid night, and as they were led to their table, the waiter asked for their drinks order. "Four Cristals, por favor," Ace replied, and within moments, a quartet of icy-cold Cuban beers landed on their table.

"I thought there was a trade embargo?" Carlos quizzed, frowning in confusion.

"Sssh," came Ace's response. "What are you, the Department of State? Just fuckin' drink it," he said, necking half of his bottle in a few quick gulps.

Pete took a swig. "Fuck, that's good," he assessed. He checked the label on the bottle -- yep, the beverages appeared to be genuine Cuban imports. He wondered if Cuban cigars were available. He'd love to suck on a fat one.

Ace ordered for everyone, and shortly, a banquet of Cuban food arrived. They ate well, though Carlos went a little heavy on the chilli.

"That was an awesome meal. I'm very full," Carlos burped, "yet at the same time, unsatisfied."

Candii was surprised to hear this. The meal was amazing, her company had poured liquid gold into this tour and the bands were reaching new audiences; why would anyone feel unsatisfied?

"Looks like I'm gonna have to jack off until we get married," Carlos continued. "Pete's a born-again virgin until we tie the knot."

Pete explained this morning's conversation and the misunderstanding that lay behind it. Both Ace and Candii chuckled inside, wondering how long Carlos could last.

"You shouldn't be jerking off either," Ace cracked. "I'm 'fraid to say you're just gonna have to wait." He grinned. "I hope your balls don't explode in the meantime, but the church says masturbation is evil." He laughed as he saw Pete's mischievous smile coupled with Carlos's pained grimace.

"Fuck the church," came Carlos's punchy, no-nonsense reply. He showed heaven his middle finger.

"So I'm guessing your marriage won't be a religious affair?" asked Candii, already suspecting the answer. Another round of beers landed on the table.

Pete shook his head. "Fuck no. And if I can be honest, my head is still spinning about all of this. I can still hardly believe Carlos asked me to marry him in the first place. I'm half-expecting to wake up and find this has all been a dream. But if this is truly real, a quiet civil ceremony would be fine by me, so long as we can party hard after."

Candii filed this information away.

Carlos nodded in agreement. "It's real, babe," he whispered quietly to his drummer, planting a kiss on his sweet neck. "Esto no es un sueño. Te amo, my sexy bro."

Candii tried to collect her thoughts. "But if you're gonna ... hang on, wait, let me backtrack for a second ... like, consummation is a religious thing, so I guess I don't understand. Why is Pete pretending to be a virgin when he obviously isn't one?"

Pete blushed a little. Candii was right; he was a total slut for cock. "Carlos brought it up in the first place," he said, poking his thumb in his boyfriend's direction, "so maybe ask him."

"Wait, so you would've let me fuck you this morning?" challenged Carlos.

"You're the hottest man alive," Pete replied, "and I'm yours anytime you want me, but I thought this might be fun." Pete's smile was deliriously wicked, and Carlos took a moment to process what his boyfriend said.

"You're gonna tease me?" Carlos asked.

"Maybe." Pete's grin was a mile wide by now. "I know you liked the show I gave you this morning."

Candii's head turned. "Wait, what?"

"He jerked off this morning watching me take a shower," Pete continued. "I spread my cheeks up against the glass, showing him my hole, and when I got out, he told me it got him off."

Carlos nodded. "It's true."

"Fuck, dude," Ace laughed, "you're so going to hell." In response, Carlos raised his finger to the heavens again, just in case they somehow missed it up there the first time.

"I saw the ball of tissues," Pete disclosed, shaking his head in disbelief. "All that wasted cum."

Ace turned his gaze upon Carlos. He wanted to test where the temporary boundaries lay. "There's a bathroom just over there," he said, pointing vaguely in the general direction of the restaurant's restroom. "Hypothetically, if I said to you, meet me in the second cubicle in five minutes, I'll be waiting on my knees and you can fuck my face until you shoot ropes, what would you do?"

Pete was curious to hear Carlos's response to this intriguing question.

"Not until Pete and I are married."

Candii was stunned. "So ... wait ... you two are monogamous from now on?"

"Fuck no," coughed Pete, midway through a swig of cool Cuban beer.

"So ... fuck ... wait, what?" said a confused Candii. She put her beer on the table and threw her hands in the air. "I don't understand anything right now."

"Pete and I aren't the monogamous type," said Carlos. "We've had our discussion, and we know where we're at. Our intention is to be faithful to each other in our hearts. But if he's gonna tease me until we tie the knot, I'm not gonna fuck around behind his back."

"Yeah, I hear what you're saying," tempted Ace, "but this isn't behind Pete's back, he's sitting right next to you, and I'll take this opportunity to remind you the bathroom is just over there." He opened his mouth wide and flopped his slutty tongue out. "Don't tell me you don't want some of this," he said, sucking on a finger so hard his cheeks nearly caved in. "You can use my face for target practice."

Candii boned up looking at her rockstar's wide open mouth. "If Carlos doesn't want your mouth, I know someone who does." She moaned slightly, tickling her boytoy under the table.

The meal was filling, but Ace was hungry for sperm. "Excuse us for a moment," he said. He grabbed Candii's hand and led her to the bathroom.

Pete turned to his partner. "You OK?"

Carlos was up to the challenge. His dark Latin eyes were on fire. "Sure am, babe. Imma see how long I can last with your churchy virgin bullshit."

Pete knew he'd crack if his boyfriend put the serious moves on. Carlos was irresistible.

A few minutes later, Candii walked back to their table. Ace followed a few seconds behind, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The check was on the table. Candii threw Swallow's credit card down, and the evening's debt was instantly cleared. "Let's head back to the hotel," she said, flashing her eyelashes. "Big day tomorrow." Ace helped her up from her chair and gave her ass a little squeeze as she stood. "Naughty boy," she chastised, "taking advantage of me like that. I'll be punishing you for that later."

*

The party of four walked back to the hotel and rode the elevator back upstairs. Ace and Candii disappeared, wishing Pete and Carlos a good night. "See you downstairs tomorrow morning," Candii said. "Breakfast at 10.30."

Pete produced their room key and opened the door. "Fuck, it's hot in here," he said, reaching for the air conditioner remote. Seconds later, a cool artificial breeze swept through their room.

Carlos headed for the bathroom and closed the door behind him. "You OK in there, babe?" asked Pete.

"Yeah... just gimme a sec," came the tentative reply.

Five minutes later, Pete heard the water running. "You just jerked off again, didn't you?" he challenged.

"Food didn't agree with me," Carlos replied. "Maybe I ate too much chilli."

As the stench hit Pete's nostrils, he knew his boyfriend was telling the truth. "Hit the exhaust fan, dude, that's brutal."

Carlos lay on the bed, rubbing his sore stomach. Pete felt fine. He messaged Ace. 'you and candii ok after the meal?'

Ace: 'yeah why?'

Pete: 'no reason'

Maybe Carlos ate too much chilli, or maybe he just got unlucky with the food. In any case, it was to be an early night, and no marriages would be consumed this evening. The boys lay in bed watching the local late night news. Tomorrow's forecast was for temperatures in the nineties. They both drank lots of water.

"You gonna be OK for tomorrow?" Pete inquired, rubbing his boyfriend's sensitive stomach.

"I feel better already," came the reply. "You know what they say, better out than in."

Pete smiled, kissing Carlos sweetly on the lips. "Goodnight, my sexy Mexican metalhead."

"Dulces sueños, mi amor."

The air conditioner rumbled quietly all night.

*

Everyone congregated around the breakfast bar the following morning. Ace piled his plate with grilled tomato, wilted spinach, hash browns and toast. Candii dolloped some yoghurt onto a bowl of cereal and carried it to their table. She returned to retrieve two strong coffees, one for her rockstar and one for herself. The elevator door dinged, and Carlos and Pete appeared. They were halfway through their breakfasts when Ace remembered Pete's obtuse text message from last night. "Everything alright with you guys?" he asked.

Pete had momentarily forgotten. "Huh?"

"You texted me last night asking if Candii and I were feeling OK after dinner last night."

"That meal went straight through me," Carlos disclosed. "I feel fine now, though. I don't know what it was. Probably too much chilli."

"I thought Mexicans could handle their chilli," mused Ace.

Pete chimed in. "So did I."

"Trust Ace to give you a bout of food poisoning the night before a gig," Candii joked, lightly kicking her rockstar under the table.

"Hey, don't blame me!" protested Ace, his face full of hash brown. "I've been to that restaurant like a million times, and it's always been awesome!"

"Don't sweat it, Ace," Carlos reassured. "I just stunk out the room for a little bit." Candii comically pinched her nose in response. "I'm 100% for today, though," continued Ass To Mouth's sexy frontman. "We're gonna tear Miami a new asshole."

"Or maybe a new boipussy," said Ace, grinning. "I know you and Pete are gonna get hitched soon, Carlos, but you can tear me a new boipussy anytime you want."

Candii kicked her rockstar under the table again, but this time, a little more forcefully. She added a frown to the mix.

"By the way, Candii," asked Pete, "where *are* we playing today?" He expected her to name a venue he'd never heard of before. He didn't really care where they were playing, he was just being curious, making casual conversation.

Candii swallowed her mouthful of yoghurt and cereal before responding. "On the beach."

Carlos coughed in surprise.

"Come over here." With a tempting, curled finger, Candii led the musicians to the window, taking her cup of coffee with her. "See that stage over there?" She pointed to a temporary rock 'n roll stage, in the near distance, on the northern reaches of Miami Beach. "That's for us. And tonight, we're reversing the two headline bands. Ass To Mouth plays second last, and Boipussy will headline the show."

Ace began to protest. He was going to say that Boipussy were *clearly* the most junior band on the bill who hadn't even put their first record out yet, but Candii stopped him before he started. "Shut the fuck up," she said, poking him in the chest. "I already know what you're going to say, so here's my response. Miami is Boipussy's hometown, and I want you and the rest of your band to have a night you'll never forget."

On that score, Candii had nothing to worry about. Ace would never forget these past two weeks as long as he lived, and they weren't even over yet.

"And besides," Candii continued, "I'm the fucking boss." She drained the rest of her coffee, turned on her heels and pranced away.

Pete stared out the window at the beach. Fucking hell, they were gonna play on that stage tonight? On Miami Beach? He couldn't bring himself to believe what was happening. But it was real, and later that afternoon, a fleet of minibuses ferried the five bands and their crew across the I-195 bridge before turning left, heading north towards tonight's temporary venue. Soundcheck proceeded quickly and the boys were left to their own devices as Kuntlapper, today's first band, took the stage.

Ace, Carlos and Pete reclined in beach chairs, sunglasses on, with their VIP All Access passes dangling around their necks. The crowd began to assemble and build.

"No bate room today," Ace observed.

"Wouldn't really work on a beach," Carlos replied.

"Unless it was a nude beach," contributed Pete. "If you're furtive enough, the whole beach is a bate room."

"Great idea for a song," Ace declared. "Y'all ever had sex on the beach?"

"Atlanta doesn't have very many beaches," Carlos replied.

"And while I love the beach, I hate getting sand in my crack," volunteered Pete, shutting down Ace's line of questioning. "You ever been fucked with sand up your ass? One star, would not recommend."

Carlos raised his eyebrows in curiosity. He'd love to hear the rest of Pete's tale, but it could wait for another day.

They sat in silence under the bright blue sky as the beach began to shake with metal riffs.

"I can't fucking believe this is real," Pete said.

"I know," replied Ace. "Same."

They kicked back for a few moments.

"We need to get out of the sun," said a sensible Carlos, "before we fry."

"I thought Mexicans were used to the hot sun?" Ace quizzed.

"I come from a part of Mexico where the climate is cooler. On the Pacific. Probably explains my reaction to last night's chilli, too. It's way hotter in Florida than where I come from, and I don't want to get heatstroke before we play."

"Good thinking," agreed Pete, "let's go." The three amigos headed backstage in search of shade and refreshments.

*

The sun set in the west, but the night was warm, the air was thick, and the party was just getting started. Floodlights bathed the beach as Femboy Hooters finished their set. The evening's DJ filled the gap between bands with cuts and slashes of death metal. Heads bobbed up and down in time with the music as thousands of hot, long-haired metalheads poured cold beer down their necks.