tagFetishThe Girl at the Rock Show

The Girl at the Rock Show


"Are you okay?"

My eyes are shut, but I can sense your boots inches from my face. They are new enough to still smell like leather, but they've got street tar seeping in. I open my eyes and see nothing but a halo around black space, your head eclipsing the light.

I'm on the floor in the lobby of the little old converted theater. It is 1998 and even though the place just opened a few months ago, the carpet already reeks of cigarettes and spilled beer in a comfortable way. I try to focus my eyes, but there's just something so soothing about being on this floor, actually feeling the music down the hall vibrate through me.

"Hey... hey, girl?" You nudge my arm with your boot.

I flail, smacking you away. "Water please, I need water." My voice is hoarse from screaming, from smoking, from doing lines in the bathroom all night.

You turn away and move quickly to the bar, jingling as you go. You're either one of those assholes with a chain on his wallet or you're one of the guys who works here, a thousand keys dangling. I'm unsure which I'd rather deal with. I'm technically too young to be here tonight.

I'm a mess, I know. I am drenched in a cold sweat, wetting my white tee shirt. No doubt my makeup has racooned my eyes. My pigtails are definitely not where they started. At least I came in cute, maybe that will win me some points.

The eclipse has returned and you are dangling a bottle over my face. I take it and try to drink while still flat out, dumping most of it down my shirt during an uncoordinated effort to sit up.

You stand there looking down at me. "Are you drunk?"

"Not at all, officer! I have not had one drink tonight. Which is why I needed water, yeah?" It's actually true.

Your hands are crammed in your pockets and I can see that you do have a wallet chain. But it's longer and thicker than the assholes wear. Heavier. You didn't get this as a set at the mall.

This is a dog chain.

I lean back on my hands, feeling a little more clear headed. I pull my knees up as I realize how askew I am. My pleated skirt flipped up, fishnet stocking with a giant hole in the knee from falling to the floor. One of my boots has come undone, laces derailed nearly the entire way from my knee to my ankle, even though they zip.

It had just seemed so pleasant to stay on the floor.

"You shouldn't stay there like this," you say. "People walk out of the front bathrooms from here. There's probably piss all over."

I take hold of your doubled up chain and run my thumb over the thick links. It's somehow much colder than it should be. I purse my lips together and my heartbeat subtly picks up pace.

You take this as a sign I need help getting up and crouch down next to me, trying to pick me up. I finally see your face and I melt completely, like some kind of trashed out prince charming moment. The gorgeous eyes, the stubble, the mess of hair. Your calloused fingers graze my arm and I recognize you: the bass player from the first band.

You set me on my feet and steady me, then take a knee to begin pulling at the laces of my boot, correcting me. I can't resist touching your hair. Without looking up you ask if I'm here with anyone. I tell the truth: my boyfriend. You just nod.

With a final strong yank on my strings, you knot them. Gently, you touch the back of my knee, then my thigh, looking up at me. Your fingers are so close to my pussy. I'm not wearing panties tonight.

That feeling surges through me. It starts in my chest and creeps down to my belly, then there's the rush of blood, spilling an aching throb into my cunt.

"You wanna come upstairs with me?"

My breath gets caught in my throat and I am paralyzed. You stand and take hold of my hand, pulling me toward the stairs. I couldn't say no even if I wanted to.

The old projector room is crammed with couches, all old and sunken and comfortable. I wonder how many people have fucked on these couches. I'm surprised no one else is here, I suppose the other guys are down watching the show.

I am told to sit and given another bottle of water. You sprawl out next to me, leaning back into the couch. "You should really drink that. You look like you had a little too much fun out there."

"No such thing as too much fun." I drink and feel better.

You tell me your name. I deliberately don't tell you mine.

Below the band starts their signature song. We can feel the howling of the crowd. It won't be much longer until the show is over. My fingers have found your chain again, fondling the metal.

I suddenly turn and swing my leg over yours, straddling you, sitting back on your knees to unzip your pants, fishing out your cock. I pump between us, slowly, squeezing just the slightest bit.

"You don't care that you're cheating on your boyfriend?"

"Do you want me to care?"

You snort and grab my ass to pull me forward, finally realizing I'm bare under my skirt. You grab my asscheeks with both hands, massaging, pulling at the flesh just near my swollen lips that are now well coated in my honey.

Your face comes toward me for a kiss, but I turn away and take in a mouthful of the ice cold water at my side, then slip to my knees between your legs. I pull your pants down just enough to bring your sack over your boxers. Balls, sucked into an icy cave, immediately drawing up tight and jolting your cock in my hand. My tongue caresses the shocked skin, soothing you with gentle suction.

The cold begins to fade away and my mouth warms. I place little kisses all over your cock - my lips puffy with returning heat - then begin licking small swaths. You pulse almost every time my tongue comes in contact with you.

My mouth opens wide, and I take you in, my lips wrapping around just behind the head, teasing it, not touching. And then all at once the full width of my tongue is pressing against you, dragging against your frenulum and shoving your fat dick against the roof of my mouth and slowly, slowly the entire way back my throat until it's almost painful for me.

I pause a moment and contract my throat, making a swallowing motions around you, my tongue out as far as it will go, slathering your balls. I come back up with incredible suction, and you grow rock hard. I release your cock and hover, drawing in a sharp breath bringing cold air over your skin before sinking you back into the warmth of my swirling mouth. My hand grasps you tightly, stroking you as I continue to bob and suck. I begin to feel the tiny shoots under your skin and the taste of your precum lands on my tongue.

I pull off of you and stand up. You look at me, almost confused. I strip off my wet shirt and throw it aside, tired of being cold. My nipples, pierced, and the perfect shade of pink, stand at attention. I lean over your face and tell you to kiss them. You gently kiss and lick, then lock your teeth on my horseshoe and pull. The sensation zaps through my entire body.

I look you in the eyes as you lap and bite my tits. "I'm going to fuck you now," I say, reaching over to unlatch your chain from your pants and your wallet. "But you need to do something for me."

You nod and watch me hold the chain against the back of my neck and cross it round the front, letting the ends hang behind my shoulders. I turn my back to you, and straddle you again, steadying myself over your cock, then sinking down, taking you into deep into my hungry cunt. Slowly I wiggle my ass and you grab at it again, globes of flawless white turning bright pink from your pawing.

I reach behind me and take the ends of the chain, pointing them at you. I simply say, "Pull."

You short of laugh and stammer for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Pull"

I can feel you take one end in both hands and tug at each end a little. I moan as the mental sinks lightly into my skin and I begin to rock forward, moving you in and out of me. Steadying myself on your knees, feet braced against the front of the couch, I begin speeding up, my ass smacking into your belly.

You suddenly grab both ends of my leash, yanking me upright. You take both ends of the chain in one hand, wrapping it around until your fist is at the back of my neck. I am pinned in place. Your hips thrust up to meet my bounce as you put more strain into the chain and reach around me to roughly rub your calloused fingers over my clit. Black dots cross in front of my eyes and my lips become pricked by pins and needles. I choke and squeak out what noises as I can as my orgasm milks you, a flood of juice spilling out of me and all over you.

You let go of the chain, and grab my hips, bucking so hard against me that I will later have bruises on my ass. Blood rushes back through me as I gasp for fresh air. I bounce along, crying out with each hit. You are hammering me by the point you say you need to cum. I quickly pull off and grab hold of your cock between my legs, stroking and laughing as you spurt gobs onto the carpet. From my point of view, it's almost as if I had done it.

You flop back on the couch and I sit over your belly and pull my thighs over your thighs, snuggling your cock in the slick warmth of me. I reach down and squeeze a last tiny dollop of cum out of you and bring it to my mouth for a taste.

You start smacking my ass and just say, "Jesus!" I thank you for the compliment.

Below us the band is playing their last song.

I unwind the slack chain for my neck, pulling it out from where it had embedded into my skin. I notice a mirror on the back of the door and walk over to examine your handy work. A bright pink line around my neck punctuated by a few tiny, bleeding perforations.

"Oh shit!" You exclaim, when you realize what I'm looking at.

"It's beautiful. It's going to bruise nice." My eyes are glazed over and my pussy it thumping again.

I find a stranger's hoodie and dry myself off, then toss it to you for clean up. I wring out my shirt as best I can, but it is practically translucent.

"What about your boyfriend?" You look worried.

"Uh, you better stay here, I will handle it. He might, like, beat you up or something." Inside I am laughing because this is not the case at all.

"What the fuck is he going to do?"

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you," I say, rolling my eyes.

I reach for the door. "Can I have your number?"

I turn, smile sweetly, and say, "No," and make my exit.

Downstairs, I grab a pack of cigarettes from the vending machine and light one, waiting for people to filter out. I touch my neck lightly and grin. What WILL I say to my boyfriend? I glance up and notice you at the top of the stairs, watching me.

Suddenly thick, strong arms wrap around me and I scream and giggle. He has found me. My giant. My keeper.

"Where did you run off to? You missed the best part!" He grabs me and kisses me, sloppy, warm and drunk.

"Oh I don't know about that. Check out my new necklace."

I tilt my long, pale neck from side to side, showing off.

"Tsk tsk tsk," he over enunciates. "Naughty girl found her own fun."

"Yeah, you should probably take me home and give me a severe talking to." I press into him and discreetly press my palm against the front of his jeans.

"At the very least!" He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, heading out to the parking lot. I squeal the entire way, trying fruitlessly to pull my skirt over my bare, public ass.

For a moment I wonder what you think of this spectacle. I wonder if you'll remember me.

I hope you do.

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