Introducing Sock Puppetz
The spotlights blazed, bathing the stage in a haze of bright white heat. The noise from the crowd was tremendous, the stomping and whooping shaking the stage like an earthquake was in full effect. The members of the band stood, arms raised, the adulation sweeping over them, big smiles on their faces.
The lights moved, twisting away from the stage, across the crowd. This was the biggest gig they'd played, the phenomenal success of their second album, Poisoned Lips, had taken them all by surprise. Kent Smithee, the lead singer and rhythm guitarist, turned to clap and acknowledge each member of the band, before turning back to the mic.
"Seattle! You fucking ROCK!" he screamed, causing even more noise from the crowd. From the mosh pit at the front of the stage came a wave of female underwear. Kent stooped to pick up a pair, mopping his face with it, grinning into the crowd. If security were doing their job properly, Kent and the rest of the guys would have their pick from the hottest girls the guards could find. Persuading them backstage was never a problem, these girls would drop their panties for an autograph.
Elkie Nichols, the bass player and sole female in the group, pumped her arm high in the air, the noise, the gig, the whole evening acting like an aphrodisiac to her. She was bathed in perspiration, she could feel her lacy top clinging to her skin, and was beginning to regret the leather skirt and stockings ensemble she'd chosen to wear. She longed to strip off and take a shower, hopefully not alone.
The band had been together for a little over 4 years, meeting up at university and playing the local club circuit, gaining a small but dedicated following. Elkie- or Erica Thomas as she was back then- had been one of the main reasons for a lot of the male followers, five feet tall, long black hair, grey eyes, full lips, and a great sense of style.
She'd taken up bass guitar when she was 11, preferring the driving throb of the instrument to the wail of the guitar. Her parents had tried to get her interested in piano, which she could also play, but the bass was where she shone. She could make it sing. Elkie was also a pretty good songwriter, responsible for a lot of their work, and she made sure she got the writing and composing credits, pushing up her cut of the royalties considerably.
The group had toyed with various names-Frozen Eyes, PanicBitch, and Goodbye Lucille amongst those rejected, before settling on Sock Puppetz, the 'z' hopefully giving them a harder edge. Kent played rhythm and sang, Elkie was on bass and backing vocals, sometimes keyboards and sometimes lead on songs she'd written, Matt Shuffle played lead guitar, and Rob Squeeze played the drums and percussion. Each one of them had adopted a stage name and a stage persona, only, over the years, they'd become more like their characters than they cared to believe.
The crowd were baying for an encore- Kent looked around to Elkie, nodding to her, she smiled. Her chance to shine. Kent counted the rest of the band in, and a single spotlight shone, just on Elkie. The guitar played an arpeggio and the drum kept time as Elkie began to sing the opening bars of 'Tequila Slammer'.
"I let you in, so deep inside
My life held bare, no place to hide
You took my love, you twisted it
Now I'm a slot you just can't fit..." Her voice trembled over the lines- memories of past affairs echoing in the words. She'd decided long ago that she would never give her heart to another man, such gifts led to heartache, pain, grief. Her heart would stay hers forever. Her sex, on the other hand, that was given freely.
The rest of the band, hidden from the light and playing softly, took a pause for a beat, the lights dropped for a split second, then with a solid beat from the bass drum the lights blazed again, and Sock Puppetz kicked it up, the crowd stomping to the heavy beat, the soft opening bar replaced by a driving thump of guitar, bass, drum and voice.
They segued into a cover of 'You Make Lovin' Fun' by Fleetwood Mac, Christine McVeigh being one of Elkie's heroes, before finishing the set with a rap version of their first hit- surprisingly sampled by an American hip-hop star which had catapulted them into the stratosphere.
Ten minutes later, on a high from the set, the band members left the stage to thunderous applause. High fives all round, bottles of water, beer, bourbon handed around, towels draped over sweating faces and necks. Like any worker, these four people had just finished their day jobs, and it was now time to party.
Security had done their job- a couple of dozen women, girls, even, were waiting for the band in the corridor by the dressing rooms. Elkie shook her head as these half dressed tarts gave her hard looks as she pushed past them. 'Cunts,' she thought, 'poor, deluded cunts.' The guys took their time, sizing up each girl as they moved down the line, each girl getting French kissed and groped, Kent in particular knew how to check a girl for piercings- any piercings- within five seconds, his hands like eels over the girls body. Tits and pussies all got checked.
Elkie didn't bother with the dressing room, heading straight to the exit, where the limo would be waiting. She'd already planned her own after party fun. She slammed the side door open, the cold evening air chilling her.
She shivered, waiting impatiently for the driver to open the door for her. She'd worked hard to get here, let the fucker do his job, I've done mine was her attitude. She slid into the car, taking a bottle of water from the mini-bar, gulping down the contents as the limo glided away, past dozens of fans queuing by the stage door for signatures. ******************
The hotel was bland, faceless, typical tour fare. At least the bed was big, and the shower powerful. She took the lift up to the eight floor, turning and heading for Suite 7. She slipped the key card into the slot, the light turned green, pushed the handle down and entered the room.
She stripped, the clothing soaked from perspiration, leaving them in a pile by the door. Elkie went into the bathroom, turning on the shower, adjusting the temperature so it wasn't too hot. She took a long shower, the water blasting the weight of the day from her body. She resisted masturbating, only just, she always felt horny after a gig, the adrenaline always made her feeling ready to fuck.
The shower done, she dried herself perfunctorily, slipping on a silk bathrobe and wrapping a towel around her hair. She flicked the lightswitch in the bathroom off, and went into the huge lounge area.
He was sat in a chair, beer in hand. The chair looked like a child's toy with him in it. 'Big Dawg' was the head of security on this leg of the tour, a huge, hulking black guy, six foot eight tall and just as wide. He smiled at her, "Hey, baby-doll." He swigged the beer, the bottle lost in his huge hand, then stood and took the two strides to where Elkie stood. He lifted her easily.
"Bed." Elkie knew what she wanted.
He took the robe from her, whistling as he took in her body. Her dragon tattoo snaked from her shoulder, across her back and around her stomach. Guys seemed to dig it. He turned her, tracing it with his fingers. Elkie was impatient, pushing herself back on the bed, legs spread, shaved pussy wide and wet.
Big Dawg sucked at her tits, his technique rushed. She put her hands on his head, pushing hard downwards. He got the message.
His warm breath on her pussy, his tongue licked her slit, hard, then softer, his hands on her thighs, pushing her legs wide. He made various comments about how he was gonna make her scream, she'd heard it all before. 'Shut up and get on with it,' she thought. His tongue found her clit, his thick lips closing around it, sucking it into his mouth, her lips tingling, and her pussy dampening. She moaned softly, her eyes closing, her head shifting back into the thick quilt.
His fingers on her pussy, one digit against her opening, his tongue probing her before the finger slipping inside her. It felt good, nice and fat, and she shudddered as another finger pushed into her.
He began to fuck her with his fingers, his tongue lapping at her clit. The technique was poor, but it was working. Elkie pushed her hips hard against his face, her fingers on her nipples, pinching and pulling at them as Big Dawg continued to drive her towards climax. Elkie became more vocal, "Yes, there, keep that up, come on, just there, awwww, fuckfuckfuckfuckfu.......!"
She came, hard, real release finally flooding from her. Her hips thrashed as his mouth and fingers kept contact with her, kept driving her on. The second orgasm was better, more explosive, her nipples tingling, the perspiration drenching her for the second time that evening.
He stopped, suddenly. Just stopped. Started to take off his clothes. Disappointed, Elkie opened her eyes, watching him. He was well-built, he was big, muscled. His face leered at her as he unbuckled his jeans, the white pants looking incongruous against his skin. He stood with his hands in the waist band of the pants, slipping them off...
Elkie burst into laughter, a real belly laugh. He looked hurt.
"Big Dawg? Some fucking joke! I've seen bigger cocks on a Chihauhau!!" His face flared. He could do her some serious damage. Elkie didn't take shit from anyone.
"Get your clothes and fuck off. Don't think about doing anything you'll regret. I pay your fucking wages, remember that, BIG boy." It was a statement, no need to raise her voice. She slipped off the bed, grabbing the robe and headed to the lounge.
He put his clothes back on, his eyes boring into her back, she could feel his anger, humiliation across the room. She picked up the phone, calling Reception, not waiting for him to leave.
"Hi. Can you send up a bottle of Canadian Club and a bucket of ice. Oh, and get whichever porter has the biggest cock to deliver it."
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