Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss
THE BOY FROM THE BAND
(A Slice of the Author's Life Story)
by Ron Dalanor
If you ever want a job where sex is a fringe benefit, then get a job at a hotel. It can't be just any job, or just any hotel, or just any location. The hotel must have a bar, and that bar must be a part of the bar band circuit. Holiday and Ramada are best for this. The job should be as the hotel's night manager which will give you the necessary free time as well as the opportunity for those special public relations duties. The best location is a rural southern town. There you may not be the only game in town, but you will likely be the best game in town.
I had all of these elements going for me when I was in graduate school. From one summer to the next, I had moved from one hotel chain to the other (more money), and I had discovered that I thoroughly enjoyed screwing guys (big surprise).
The work routine was easy most of the time. I showed up for work between 10 and 11 at night and finished ten hours or so later. Of course, whenever the general manager wanted to play hooky or had some sweet young thing secreted in his room for the evening, I had to show up earlier. Except for bouncing the occasional drunk from the bar, all I had to do was to roam around the property until midnight. At the witching hour, I took over the front desk and prepared to balance the books for the inn. There might be a rare late check-in, but in a rural Alabama town few tourists were likely to wander through. By 12:30, the audit was nearly complete except for the bar. At 1 o'clock during the week and at 2 o'clock on the weekends, the bar manager would show up with her receipts and make her cash deposits. Fifteen minutes later, my audit would be complete, and I could do whatever I pleased - sleep, read, meditate, listen to music, just think or, if the Fates smiled on me, get lucky. Usually, no one was around to bother me at all until the kitchen staff began to drift in at 5 A.M.
Opportunities for sex were not lacking. If I wanted a woman, there was always some bar cutie to put the moves on or a bar waitress to lay. I had sampled a few of those. I had even taken it a step further when I initially discovered men. I spent the weekend with one of the bar waitresses and her boyfriend. Aside from both of them giving me head, the boyfriend's favorite activity was screwing her while I fucked him. It was a weekend!
If I wanted a guy, there was always a traveling salesman, a traveling executive, a truck driver, or a band member. The traveling salesmen and traveling executives had a fairly uniform routine. Either they stopped by the front desk after the bar closed and didn't leave, or they dropped by the front desk later, figuring everyone had gone. The conversations always began with not being able to sleep, the pressures at work, or the pressures at home. Somehow, however it began, it would wind up with them behind the desk slurping on or riding on my rod.
Truck drivers were a bit more rare. Most of them, I guess, preferred to get their action on the road. The few that preferred getting it on in a hotel setting were pretty direct. They would wait until no one was around and simply ask if you wanted to fool around.
If I had a preference, it was for the boys in the band. Their attitude of reckless abandonment while performing on stage often carried over into the bedroom making for really hot sex.
When the band for the last week of July checked in, I was the manager on duty. I was sitting in the bar talking with a young plumber who, I was positive, wanted and needed to be snaked out. I was pretty sure that nothing at the desk could interest me as much. I was wrong!
The problem at the desk was simple; the new desk clerk didn't know what rooms were to be used for the band. I gave her the information, and she proceeded to check them in. I had been so busy thinking about the plumber that I hadn't paid attention to these guys. It was a five member band - five men. I didn't have much of a reaction when I did scrutinize the drummer, the bassist, the keyboard player and the lead guitarist. They were okay...nice looking..., but nothing to write home about. The lead singer was a different story. He didn't look much different from the rest of the band, but there was something very different about him.
We were aware of each other even before our eyes met. It was as if our charismatic auras collided like a high speed train wreck. When we did make eye contact, we exchanged that "knowing" sort of look. It ended when he winked, and one of the other band members asked how to get to the rooms. I grabbed a hotel map to give the directions, and the lead singer used this opportunity to press in close and make body contact. Despite the fact that there was enough heat generated between us to melt all the gold in Fort Knox, I kept my cool but just barely.
Nick was the singer's name. He was the kind of guy that you'd love to throw down in the mud, wrestle with in the muck and slime, subdue totally, dominate mentally, physically, and emotionally and then pig fuck till he squealed.
Nick was thin, but to call him a skinny white boy would have gone too far. Sinewy probably best described his body. He had adolescent hips, but his butt was firm and fleshy. That butt looked as though it was built for rough riding and endurance. Nick's hair was really long and naturally black. It was a combination of wavy and frizzy as if it couldn't quite make up its mind which to be. The biggest problem I had with Nick's looks was his paleness. His coloring, or near lack thereof, was in stark contrast to the darkness of his hair. Since I am racially mixed, I kind of groove on guys whose complexions are not at either extreme from my own honey colored permanent tan.
Nick's face was an exercise in contradictions. He sported a mustache which grew into and faded into a beard that covered only his chin. Yet, even that attempt at appearing devilish couldn't cover his soft boyish facial features. He wound up looking much more impish than threatening. His eyes, however, had a coldness about them in their steel grey gaze. His eyes could trap you in to staying much longer than you should.
When I first saw Nick, he was wearing tight leather pants and a tank. He was pretty furry - chest, back, and arms. Each arm and both shoulders were decorated with tattoos. A black rose sprouted from his left bicep, a snake slithered on his right arm, a butterfly flew over his left shoulder, and a skull and crossbones design sat menacingly on his right shoulder. Tats turn me on when they are worn by the right kind of guy. Nick was the right kind of guy. Though he was not what your mind would conjure up in reaction to the word "butch", there was nothing feminine about him.
Nick was a little prone to ornamentation. Like me, he wore a silver chain around his neck. Nick also had both ears pierced with a sapphire stud in one and a silver loop in the other. His ears were not the only pierced part of his body. Although only a part of the mental ring was visible from beneath his tank, it was evident to me that his right tit was pierced. Like the tattoos, the guy wore it all quite well.
That Sunday night after everything had settled down and the audit was done, I spent every moment plotting how to get into Nick's pants. For me, that was a pretty radical step. Though I might chase a skirt, I rarely went after a guy. Usually, the guy had to make the first move; I, then, would make all the subsequent moves. Nick was enough to make me want to break this pattern.
By Monday night, I had my hormones under control. I went in to hear the band. They were actually very good. It was too bad that we only had them for a week, but they were working their way out to the west coast. As I sat at the bar, Nick strutted over in my direction while singing and winked, just winked. I dutifully but grudgingly went to work.
By the time the band stopped playing at 12:30, I was engrossed in my work looking for a transposition error that one of the desk clerks had made. Despite the band's noisy exit, I would have missed them had it not been for Nick coming over to the desk. In front of the other band members, Nick told me that they were going to party and asked me to come along. That voice of his was so raspy and sexy that I threw a rod immediately. He winked at me again. I told them that I had to keep the hotel running - what a fucking corny answer. With several six packs in hand and a couple of girls, the band went off to their rooms. I eventually found the error, took Sheryl's bar report, and balanced the books for the day. It was 1:30, I was bored, and I was super horny.
After trying to read for forty-five minutes, I gave up and decided to take a nap. I locked the front door, the only external entrance, and went into the office. I promptly propped my feet up and closed my eyes. As soon as I had relaxed, the switchboard buzzed. Nick was on the other end. He had left something in the bar and wanted to come and get it. I told him to come ahead.
I unlocked the door for Nick and relocked it behind him. I followed him into the bar to ask if I could help him find whatever he was looking for. Actually, I followed him into the bar because he was wearing this tiny pair of red gym shorts that hugged his sweet ass unmercifully and because the thought of jumping that ass would not leave my mind.
"So when are you going to put the moves on me?" Nick said as he turned to face me.
"What?" I stammered, being caught off guard.
"Unless I misread you completely, I'm pretty sure you wanted to strip me naked yesterday." Nick said. "What exactly is it that you want to do to me?"
Nick had moved in real close, but I had regained my composure. I wasn't about to budge an inch.
"I want to fuck you long enough and hard enough to make you cum without ever touching yourself." I responded with feigned confidence.
"Suppose that I wanted to fuck you?" Nick indicated, a little more tentative than before.
"Then I guess we'd both be shit out of luck cause I don't do windows, floors or bottom for anybody."
"Damn! You are every bit the fucking stud that I thought. Every guy I met during the last two gigs wanted me to fuck him. I can flip-flop, but I am hot to get fucked by a real man!"
Nick's statement set the unstoppable wheels in motion. I grabbed the back of his head and a handful of hair and kissed him hard. His breath was a mixture of beer and pot, faintly masked by a breath spray, and I savored every flavor his kiss could produce. Nick's hands automatically went to my chest to push me away, but he couldn't summon any strength. I had him now; I had tapped into his lust. His arms went around my neck, and my hands captured his butt. Our bodies seemed to melt together.
In the ensuing frenzy, all gentleness disappeared. We were like addicts in need of a serious fix. I unzipped my pants, forced him to his knees, made him suck me by pushing his head up and down on my dick as far and as fast as I could make it go. I pulled him up, pushed him down onto a table which was braced against the rise in the floor that formed the bandstand, ripped off his little red shorts, started sucking him, and then rimmed him till he moaned out loud.
I had no concept of right or wrong anymore; I had no concept of societal rules and accepted conventions. All I had was an incredibly primitive urge to satisfy myself. Getting my cock in his ass was as necessary to my existence as air to breathe. I spat on my hand, rubbed the saliva on my dick, pushed his legs upward to create the proper position, and shoved my cock into him. The fit was tight, and the entry was anything but easy causing Nick to scream out in pain and his ass to spasm in defense. None of this was enough to stop me. I just started pounding his butt, and I kept pounding and pounding and pounding.
Nick seemed to struggle to free himself of this impalement, but I had his arms pinned to the table making escape impossible. Like an animal, but even more like a machine, I just kept fucking him and fucking him. As the pain shifted to pleasure, Nick eased into the enjoyment of being screwed by a madman.
"Fuck my white ass! Fuck my white ass!" I heard Nick yell as I began to drift back to reality.
"Like my black dick, don't you white boy?"
"Love black dick in my ass. Fuck me harder! Oh, God, yes! Harder! Harder!"
Nick's eyes had been closed initially, and his head thrashed back and forth. They were now open, and he stared intently into mine as he yelled every word. It was like a contest. No matter what I dished out to him, he was determined to take it and demand more.
"Pig fuck my butt! Do it! Come on, shove it to me now!"
I would have thought it impossible that I could fuck anyone harder than I was fucking Nick, but his words triggered something. My thrusts became even harder and even faster till the sounds my slamming into his ass echoed through the room.
"You fucking bastard! You got it. You're gonna make me do it! Oh, God. Oh, God! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Cum shot out of Nick's dick. It splattered everywhere. One small spurt landed on my lips. I licked it to enjoy its salty, sweet taste. Nick's ass began twitching spasmodically around my cock, and I couldn't hold off a second more. It felt more like I was pissing in his ass than cumming in it.
"Milk that black dick, you fucking whore! Drain all that cum out of it!"
I came so hard that I felt an ache and an emptiness in my balls. Both Nick and I zoned after getting off, but the cramping in his legs and the pain of my zipper digging into my balls brought us back to the mundane. We disengaged.
"Damn good fuck, man! It has been years since someone plowed a load out of me."
Nick pulled his shorts back on, and I adjusted my clothes and cock, zipped my pants to avoid that "I just got a piece" appearance. We walked from the bar into the office and had a well deserved smoke. We chatted mostly about sex and exchanged double entendres. In the process of conversation, I learned that most of the other guys in the band were totally straight, but they had no problem with Nick's preference. Everything was open, including the drummer's bisexuality. According to Nick, two or three times a year the drummer got the urge and went stalking to find a male partner. Nick told me that there had been times when several band members were getting in on with their dates in the same room. No one cared who you were with as long as you weren't holding up his action. Only one rule for the group endured; there was no fooling around among band members.
"Hey, we didn't find your bracelet." I said.
"I got what I came after." Nick said smugly. "I just didn't get enough!"
With that, Nick slid off the desk where he had been sitting and posing, dropped to his knees, and started licking the cum stains on my grey trousers as I sat in the chair behind the desk.
"I need more dick. Make me suck it. Make me take it up the ass.!" Nick whispered as he unzipped my pants and sucked my semihard rod.
"Yeah, that's it, pussyboy. Suck that dick. Get it nice and hard so I can fuck you with it."
It had started again. Nick and I didn't excite one another; we drove each other into a maniacal frenzy. I braced myself on the arms of the chair and began thrusting into his mouth. That wasn't enough. I grabbed him by the hair forcing him down onto my dick as I stood. I humped his mouth, sliding my dick deep into his throat. Nick groped my thighs so hard that I felt his fingerprints being embedded in them. Somehow in the madness of being sucked I managed this time to disentangle myself from my clothes.
I made him lick my balls and kept forcing him on until he reached my ass. I turned around and pulled his face tight to my ass. His tongue went after my hole with full force. As his beard slid up and down my crack, I found myself moaning. Except for my dick, every muscle in my lower region was relaxing in total ecstasy. I had to piss like you wouldn't believe. I took a few steps and drug Nick, who was still rimming me for dear life, along with me. I started pissing in the potted plant near the desk, but I stopped before fully emptying my bladder. I whirled around to face the kneeling singer.
"Lick the piss off my dick!" I ordered.
"Make me, fucker!" he yelled back.
"Take it!" I demanded.
"Fuck you!" Nick screamed scooting away from me.
I grabbed him by the hair again to hold him in place, slapped his face hard with my dick until he opened his mouth, and then shoved my cock deep inside his mouth. I sighed as I emptied the small amount of piss left in my bladder. Nick drank the piss like he was chugging a beer. He collapsed on the floor when he had finished, only then realizing what he'd done. My dick was totally hard, and I was anything but finished with him.
"Get up, cunt, so I can fuck that asspussy of yours." I commanded while waving my dick at him.
"Fuck you, asshole!" he challenged.
My hand darted down, and my finger slipped into his tit ring. Panic swept his face.
"Get up, fucker, or I'll fuckin' rip it out!"
Slowly and carefully, Nick eased his way up with my finger still inside the ring until he stood with his butt against the desk. My free hand grabbed his balls, and I removed my finger from its dangerous location. We had locked into one another's eyes. I gradually increased the pressure I was applying to his balls.
"What do you want, cocksucker? Tell me what you want!" I yelled in Nick's face as I squeezed even harder.
"I want you to fuck me!" he moaned as his face contorted from the pain.
"Want me to fuck you sweet and gentle?" I said sarcastically while tightening my grip again.
"Oh, God!" he cried out in pain. "Fuck me like a bitch in heat! Please, fuck me now!"
I let go of his balls, spun him around, pushed him facedown toward the desk, yanked his shorts down, leaned my face down to his ass, spat on his butt, rubbed the spittle into his hole, and stuck my dick fully into his man cunt.
"You got that fuckin' dick in me, black boy, now show me you know how to fuck a man!" Nick hissed at me.
I pulled my dick all the way out, and then shoved it back into him as hard as I could. Nick screamed, lunged forward without escaping, braced himself on one arm on the desk, grabbed his own dick, and started pounding his meat.
"God dammit! Shit! Fuck my hole!"
Nick was fucking back on my dick and jerking his cock every bit as hard as I was shoving my pecker into him. The entire time he kept screaming "Fuck me! Fuck me!" over and over again, getting louder with each cry. Sweat was pouring off our bodies as they slapped together. I found myself gasping for air.
"Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! I'm cumming!" Nick gasped as he began shooting his load across the desk.
He kept whacking away at his meat and cum kept oozing out. I kept fucking him though I wasn't close to cumming. After a while, the continued plowing became too much for Nick.
"Man, I can't take that dick anymore."
I pulled out and started beating off hoping to cum soon. Nick turned around, squatted, and started licking my balls.
"Shoot that load, man. Shoot it all over my fuckin' face! Make me eat that cum!"
The words were too powerful. I went over the edge. The first squirts splattered on his face and trickled down. Nick engulfed my cock and swallowed all the rest of my flowing jism.
We were both spent for real this time. We laid on the floor holding each other. For the first time, we were gentle and loving as opposed to being trapped by irresistible lust. After a half an hour or so of kissing, cuddling, licking and nibbling, we redressed.
Our timing was perfect. We walked outside in the morning air to talk and smoke. I had only had a couple of drags from my cigarette when Gladys, the head cook, arrived. She bade us a good morning and asked what I wanted for breakfast. After she left, we kissed goodbye.
"Think you can make me take that dick everyday that I'm here?" Nick asked coyly.
"If not, I'll fuckin' kill us both trying." I said with a big smile on my face.
Nick and I did get it on everyday while he was there. Hot, sweaty, rough, and mindless fucking was what we needed from each other, and that is what we gave each other. And each day, Nick made it a little different. Our first fuck session could have been called a rape fantasy, and each one that came after that got even wilder.
When Nick showed up for our second fuck session, he was wearing, underneath a long coat, a black leather vest, black leather shorts, and black leather cowboy boots, along with a holster containing a dildo. He insisted on riding my dick until he came. He would then suck me off while I dildo fucked him. As before, we couldn't stop at just once.
Thursday morning, we got stoned. Everything went into slow motioned surrealness. I licked the outline of his tattoos, I ravaged his nipples, and I chewed on his balls. We fucked and fucked, too lost in the pleasure to cum. When I finally felt us both get close, I ripped a mouthful of hair from his chest. He was too stoned to scream, we both were too stoned to care, and we just kept oozing love juice until we collapsed. We were awakened by Gladys' banging on the door to be let in so she could get the kitchen ready for breakfast. That one was close.
On Friday morning, Nick showed up in full slave's attire, hidden, of course, beneath his coat. My eyes followed the black leather strap that ran up his hairy belly joining another metal ring at the center of his chest. Four other black leather straps also attached to that ring. Two headed out left and right around his chest and connected to another ring in the back as did the two that stretched up his chest and over his shoulders. Shackles adorned his wrists and feet. From each shackle dripped chains designed to be connected - hand to hand, foot to foot, and hands to feet. Nick wore a studded, thick leather collar that nearly made the flesh of his neck invisible. A leash was attached to the collar; he handed the leash to me along with a riding crop. He knelt in a most dramatic fashion before me and told me that he was mine to do with as I wished.
Knowing that our time together was waning made the sex even more desperate than before. I wrapped the leash around my hand and face fucked him so hard that he gagged for the first time. I connected all the dangling chains forcing him to literally grab his own ankles and bend over. Each time I hit his butt with the riding crop, I exorcised more of my frustration at the transient nature of what Nick and I had between us. With each red mark that appeared on his ass, Nick cried out that he was my bitch...my whore...my boy. I fucked him with pure anger. The ass pounding that I gave him that morning was intensely fierce and evil. It took longer for either of us to get off than ever before. With nearly every stroke my dick made into his ass, Nick would sob the words "I'm sorry".
All day Friday I was in a blue funk. I snapped at anyone who crossed me. By work time, I had come to better grips with the reality of the situation. Come Sunday, no matter what I wanted, Nick was leaving.
Saturday morning, Nick arrived sans fantasy gear and looking disturbed. Despite the fact that we had less time because the band played later on weekends, we sat and really talked to one another. We confessed love for one another, we admitted the confusion and depression that we each had experienced, and we both concluded that we were not the best option for one another at that time.
Talk turned in to touching. Touching led to kissing. This time we didn't start with passion at its zenith and try to force it higher. We were at slow burn with each touch, each kiss, each nibble, and each lick moving us toward inferno. We made love for the very first time. Right there, on the floor of the lobby in an almost secluded corner, we made love. The sensation was like being inside him for the first time. Each thrust of my dick into him was met by an equal response from his ass. The rhythm of our bodies meeting grew gradually faster and faster. We could not stop kissing one another; it got hotter and hotter. We were both screaming and both cumming. This time it was different. This time the orgasm wasn't just physical and mental. It was also emotional because this time we really cared.
The band was popular with the crowd, and the manager wanted to hold them over. However, they had other commitments; they packed up their equipment and left after they finished playing Saturday. Sunday morning was kind of empty, even the young plumber couldn't quite fill the void, though he tried his damndest.
We would have had them back, except the demo that they had cut a few months earlier splashed into the top twenty on the charts. They had it good for a while, but the success didn't keep rolling in. Guess they were another one of those one hit wonders of the music business. Within a year they were back on the bar circuit.
Got a few calls from Nick over the years, but I never laid eyes nor hands on him again. I still wonder about him from time to time - where he is and what happened to him. And, of course, I wonder if the sex would still be as good now as it was then.
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