Cock Roulette (Part One)

“Oh, it’s a ruthless night I see,” the doorman chuckles as I approach. There is always pleasure in being recognized before walking into one of my favorite Los Angeles bars. Any one could be famous, at least infamous, in this small city.

The bar is practically empty. Not surprising considering the earliness of the evening. I see the members of my favorite band lined up at the bar including the Musician. Quite possibly one of the most attractive bands ever formed.

The Lead Singer is covered in tattoos like his guitarist but has boyish features combined with James Dean eyes that sway between brooding and menacing.  His lyrics crush hearts as often as they lift spirits. It is easy to feel an instant connection to him after hearing a song.

The Drummer isn’t as conventionally a rock star as the guitarist Musician and the Lead Singer. What he lacks in tattoos and muscles he makes up for in charm and swagger. Darker skin than his band mates, he stands out in his own way with brown eyes your soul falls into and a smile that could make an angel sin.

The Bassist is the only female in the group though if personality is any testament to gender, they are an all boy band. Her blond hair stands out strikingly in the darkness of the room but it is only the first draw of many. From her neck down is an array of colors and shapes peeking through the slits of her black clothing. Her physic is flawless and she stands with confidence knowing this. She is the perfect combination of beauty, reliance, and intelligence. A walking wet dream.

As I saunter towards them taking in the desolate environment while reflecting on the memories these walls hold, I see the Musician order another shot of whisky with a single gesture. I toss one back with band and know that tonight will be trouble. Musicians, alcohol, and I are a mix never to be trifled with.

Within the hour the bar is filled and the Musician pulls me into the green room; a familiar place that I have done very bad things in and plan to do much worse. His lips are at mine and his fingers are under my dress, between my thighs, insistent on entering me before the door has a chance to close. He doesn’t have pre-gig jitters. Just as I think my night is mapped out before me, the door that never closed is wide open with a tech awkwardly standing, his mouth ajar.

I smile and slip the flask from his back pocket, “Time to set up.”

Back in the main room with fans, tourist, and friends, the Drummer finds me lost in the chaos. He drops his arm over my shoulders and pulls me close landing a “kinda-friendly-kinda-sexy-kinda-drunk” kiss on my forehead. We’ve wanted each other for years but restrained our advances since at one time I had dated his best friend. But somehow alcohol made us forget that time so long ago. As friends clustered around us, his hand drops to my waist and his thumb caresses the small of my back. Somehow he knows my physical weakness.

After their set, after the tear down, after they have schmoozed the fans, they are mine once again. The Bassist is high off the adrenaline and coke and eyes me like a prize. She knows about the Musician and the affections from the Drummer and wants to try too. There is stillness between us. Our eyes are locked and we each chew on our bottom lips unconsciously. She breaks the silence, “Come to the bathroom with me.”

In the stall she holds a bump of coke on the edge of a key, commonly refer to as a ‘Keebler Elf,’ for me. After a few, once the remainder is safely stored in her pocket, she kisses me and finds her hand to the same place her guitarist was an hour ago. She pulls my panties down just far enough that she can hook one of her heels into and slide them to the floor.  No sooner does her knees meet them then I feel her tongue dip inside of my cunt, sliding back and forth, only taking breaks to please my clit. Women know pussy better than anyone.

She kisses me hard again and I can savor my familiar flavor in her mouth. “That’s just a taste of what I will do to you later.” She patronizes me with a smile, watching me watch her as I pull up my panties. Some girls can be huge playboys.

It was only ten and I had two options to go home with.

…to be continued.

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