After the emotional roller coaster of the concert and my marathon masturbation session, I quickly fell into a drunken slumber so deep that I didn’t hear my daughter and her friends return. Dirty, filthy, torridly sexual dreams, mostly involving me being taken hard, like a trashy whore, on stage, by Jake and his bandmates dominated my sleep. As consciousness pulled me upwards, out of the depths of slumber, I became increasingly aware of heat and wetness between my legs. Not bothering to check on my daughter and her friends, I headed straight towards my shower.

The hot water caressed me, relaxed me, and sent my mind into a happy place, filled with the music of the previous night. The scalding water ignited my flesh, my passions along with it. With my eyes closed, the sounds of the shower drowning out the rest of the world, my body wash felt sensual and luxurious gliding over my skin. Initially, I intended on merely cleaning myself up, but my sudsy hands roaming over my flesh aroused me to new heights. Cupping my soapy breasts, another hand marveling at the heat between my legs, quickly led to the shower massage put into “Pulse” mode, directed at my clit.

With my legs spread, my back against the hard tile, the water shot onto my needy pussy, drenching them with more than water. Making sure my impassioned moans were covered by the cascading whirs of the shower, I threw my head back, sighing, enjoying the pulsating throb pummeling my clit into orgasmic joy.

My legs began quivering, weak with delight, as an explosive orgasm built inside me. The waves of convulsions, building higher and higher, began consuming my entire core. My contractions of pleasure burned my insides, cooled my exterior, and left me panting and gasping in bliss. I was going to cum hard.

“Mom,” Lisa’s high-pitched wail shot through my ecstasy, ruining it.

Damn it.

“Yes, Lisa,” I snapped in frustration.

“Somebody’s here to see you!” her last two syllables twisted the treble in her squeal up into annoyance-territory. Her tone was very shrill, excited.

Barely toweling off, my body still dripping and glistening with wetness, my hair still clumped and matted, I first grabbed my conservative, flannel, "housewife" robe. Such a modest garment—designed to cover and hide one’s body—I immediately tossed it onto the floor. My new, black concert t-shirt, Chaos Dojo’s band logo emblazoned across the top, Jake’s mugging face and long hair silk-screened front and center, seemed more apropos. I wondered who’d be at my door at this early hour. It was probably my ex-husband, dropping by to berate me on his way to work, so he’d feel like a big man. If so, he was going to be in for a big surprise. I no longer felt compelled to take his verbal abuse.

Annoyed that my orgasm was ruined, I sloshed and trudged out of my room, through the hallway, and towards the living room, not caring that the black t-shirt soaked up the water and plastered itself to the contours of my body, my wet, hardened nipples poking out.

Jake Python, dressed in black boots, tight jeans, and a ripped Iron Maiden t-shirt, was standing in my living room, sipping non-gourmet coffee from my “World's Best Mom” cup. I died a little inside.

”Shit,” my high-class mouth spewed. “Monty, I mean, fuck, Jake, what, err, what are you doing here?”

He smiled; the girls smiled. My jaw dropped. As soon as I remembered that I was dripping wet, wearing only that shirt, with his fucking face on it, no less, his eyes, as if on cue, traveled downwards.

“Sorry, I, um, I was just getting dressed…” his smile made me stop, mid-sentence.

“I like that look on you.”

“You mean your band shirt?”

“No, you in a t-shirt. You were a pretty girl, Issa, but you’ve grown into a beautiful woman, incredibly vibrant and sexy.”

Luckily, the giggling of my daughter and her friends drowned out my sharp intake of breath. My wet body became flushed and humid with heat.

“Uh, why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Me and the boys,” he gestured outside, “have some time to kill, and I was wondering if you’d care to join us for some breakfast. That is unless you’ve already eaten.”

“I can’t,” my emotions rebelled against my "mom-logic". I wanted to go with him, but my “mom-mind” made me say, “no.” I continued down that righteous path, “I have my daughter and her friends here.”

He shook his head, strolled over to the door, opened it, and leaned out. My silly logic and emotions were in cahoots, this time, deciding that if his music career tanked, he’d make a fine living winning “best buns” contests.

“Mind if Lisa and her friends join us, too?”

Rowdy, rock and roll shouts of agreement filtered through the open door.

“The more, the merrier, Melissa. How about you all join us.”

“Well, I don’t know. Young women hanging out with rock stars isn’t exactly the best…”

“Yes!” four screaming, teenage girls overruled.

I rushed through getting dressed, in too much of a hurry to bother with conservative, pesky undergarments. Some sensible lipstick and a quick swatch of eye shadow sufficed as my warpaint before I stampeded out to meet them. The girls were doing their best “slutty groupie” impersonations. I was mildly surprised to discover that they were driving a rented SUV; I’d half expected a limo.

Our breakfast was amazing. It was just a local diner with the same food I’d eaten dozens of times. But Jake, along with his bandmates, Steve, Ted, and Mark, was hilarious, entertaining, and very interesting. They weren’t, at all, what one would expect from a big-league, rock and roll band. To me, they seemed more like a quartet of brothers than guys that worked together. They shared the same patter, in-jokes, and a sense of camaraderie, exactly like brothers.

Breakfast took much longer than one would normally expect. A constant influx of fans, critics, and people wanting to hover in their orbit consumed most of the morning. Autograph seekers, slutty waitresses, and sycophants of every ilk harried our repast. The members of the band took it in stride and reveled in connecting with their fans.

“Man, it’s hot as hell, today,” Steve, the drummer, proclaimed. His long, black hair, arrayed in a massive lion’s mane, framed his pouting lips, nicely. “Is there a pool we could go to? I don’t want to go back to the hotel.”

“We have a pool,” Lisa volunteered.

“Yeah, guys. No suits necessary,” Janet added.

“Lisa,” I scolded as I shot Janet a scandalized glance. “These gentlemen don’t want to slum it in our suburban scrawl. They’re used to fine hotels, being catered to, and limousines. Janet, try to not be so forward, guys don’t like that.”

As a group, they laughed at that.

“More like too-forward skanks, which you ladies are not, fast food, roach motels, and broken down vans,” Mark said. His mirthful face, along with his light build and short-cropped hair, made him seem boyishly sexy.

Adopting a deep, even caricature of a commanding voice, Jake began. “Now boys, I know you’d like to travel in style, but the tour is costing so much. In fact, you’re lucky….”

“You’re not walking,” the rest of them finished with guffaws of laughter, obviously another inside joke.

“How about it, Melissa? Mind if we crash your pool?”

I shrugged. “I suppose then I should offer to cook dinner for you. Be warned, though, I’m not a gourmet cook.”

“Home-cooked meal, home-cooked meal,” they began chanting.

Ted, the lead guitarist, looked at me with a huge grin on his face. “Miss Chambers, you have no idea how awesome that sounds. I swear, if I have to put up with another truck stop, I’ll slit my wrists.”

For the first time in almost two decades, I found myself enjoying the day. To appreciative wolf-whistles and stares, I showed off my bikini, the very same one that Aubrey’s ex-boyfriend, Tommy, seemed so smitten over. Everything seemed magical until Jake’s cellphone rang.

“Jake ‘the Snake’ Python here,” his brow furrowed as he listened. “Really? That soon, huh? Fine. We’ll be there in five hours.”

Turning to his bandmates, involved in a game drown the bassist with my daughter and her three friends, he said, “Bad or good news, guys. That was Butch, our agent. We picked up two extra shows just across the state line. We have another show tomorrow, so our furlough is canceled.”

“We can still have a home-cooked meal, right?”

He nodded.

I quickly changed back into the t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts. For a meal, meatloaf, real mashed potatoes, corn fresh off the cob, and some store-bought pie were quickly rustled up. Time flew by, two hours’ worth. As I began cleaning up the table, preparing to wash the dishes, Lisa pulled me aside.

“Mom, Jake’s been 'thirsting' over you all day. You’ve got to make a move.”

“Lisa, a respectable woman does not…”

“What? Date a handsome, respectful millionaire that isn’t a cheating asshole? Fine, I’ll just set it up for you, then.”

She gave me a frustrated look and stomped back into the dining room.

“Girls, I need to take you all home. Now, which one of you handsome studs wants to give us a ride?”

I heard the commotion of them exiting, the door slamming shut, and turned to wash the dishes, figuring they’d all piled out.

“Need help with that?” Jake’s voice asked, softly, from behind me.

“I thought you’d left with my daughter and her friends, the slut-sisters.”

He chuckled. “Look, I have three hours before we have to leave, but I only need a few minutes.”

I put down the wash rag, wishing I hadn’t put on my frumpy kitchen apron.

He began speaking, then stopped, twice. Finally, “I meant what I said last night. I’ve always liked you, more than liked. Not only are you sexy and amazing, but you’re smart, witty, and down-to-earth, and you never once judged me. I wanted to play this show in the hopes that I’d be able to track you down.”

He shrugged. “Not because I thought you’d be interested in a guy like me, but to tell you that I am where I am, who I am, today because you believed in me when nobody else would. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be a miserable nothing."

His expressions turned pensive. “Thank you for spending the day with me, with us. I’ll stop pestering you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m a better person because of you.”

He turned to go.

“Monty, Jake, please wait.” He turned; I smiled and tugged at my apron strings. “You’re going to need the rest of those three hours.”

In an attempt to be sexy, I raised the apron over my head, catching the neck strap on my ear. Frustrated, I yanked the thing off and pulled up my shirt, exposing my bare breasts. Jake’s eyes grew wide, his mouth agape.

“Look, “ he stammered. “If this is because I sing in a band, I just want you to know that…”

I hushed him with a carnivorous smile and a finger over his lips. “No, Jake. This is because you’re the sweetest. You’ve made me feel better in the past two days than I have in the past two decades. I want you, Monty, not Jake Python.”

Not waiting for an answer, I dropped to my knees in front of him. I fumbled with his belt for a few seconds, finally getting it undone. As the last vestiges of “Melissa the housewife” were exiled from my soul, once more occupied by “Easy Issa,” I pulled his jeans down, delighted at his lack of underwear. His cock was long, thick, and growing larger by the second.

“Now I see why you’re called ‘Python’,” I smirked.

Opening my mouth, salivating at the thought of my first cock since I got married, in my teens, I hungrily devoured his cock. His impassioned moan made my pussy gush. Cock-crazed, I couldn’t get enough. I forced my mouth over his hardness until I gagged, marveling at how it filled my entire mouth. Still wanting more, I kept on going, fighting down my gag reflex, until his shaft was fucking the back of my throat.

I couldn’t help myself; my hand plunged inside my shorts, pulling and tearing at my clit. I pumped my head over his cock, thirsty for cum, one hand pulling his body into me, the other matching my pace, playing a rhythm on my clit.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in your mouth,” Jake cried out.

I didn’t stop; his announcement caused me to redouble my efforts. My hand left my dripping cunt and grabbed his hard, muscular ass, both hands now pulling him as deeply into my mouth as I could. With screams of how amazing I sucked cock, he erupted into my mouth.

At first, I sputtered, but his cum tasted like sweet pineapple and honey. I swallowed as much as I could, but he kept shooting stream after stream into my mouth. It dripped, bubbled, and poured from my mouth, dripping onto my bare tits, warming them like fire. Thinking he was done, I pulled my greedy, slutty mouth off his throbbing cock. He wasn’t finished cumming; three more geysers of white cream shot into my hair, on my face, and over my tits.

Giggling at it, knowing I looked like a whorish mess, I stood, getting ready to clean up.

“We’re not done, yet,” he said to me. “There’s no way you’re not going to let me taste you.”

Stepping out of his pants, Jake tore off his shirt, revealing that fine, muscular body I had desperately tried, and failed, to not drool over when he was in my pool. His strong arms wrapped around me as he picked me up, our faces close, as he carried me out of the kitchen, and gently laid me onto my dining room table. He slowly, gently, slid my shorts off me, staring into my eyes all the while.

He shook out his long, vibrant hair and gently spread my legs, kissing his way down my torso with agonizing slowness. By the time his lips grazed my pussy, I was ready to cum from sheer arousal, alone.

He took his time, relishing my body, feasting his eyes on me, his lips and tongue devouring me. My thighs were kissed and licked into quivering jelly, my stomach caressed until flames scorched my insides.

Then, finally, after being held in rapture for a brief eternity, his tongue snaked out, running up and down my pussy-lips. I screamed in delight, my hips humping against his face. I wanted, needed more. My hands grabbed handfuls of that gorgeous, bleached-blond hair and pulled his face into my groin.

“Yes, lick my cunt. Make me cum. Please, make me cum all over your gorgeous face.”

I neither knew nor cared where or how he had learned his oral skills, but I appreciated them. Once he had my soaked tunnel pulsating, throbbing with lust, his lips gently locked over my clitoral hood, his tongue deftly pulling it back while he sucked my clit between his teeth.

Like a whirlwind, his tongue twisted around my swollen nub, making me scream in rapture. As if he were possessed by demonic lust, his tongue danced everywhere, every nerve-ending stimulated at once.

“I’m fucking cumming. Oh, fuck, you’re incredible.”

My orgasm was so intense that my flailing arms knocked chairs away from the table, my hips humping up and down so hard that the table rocked and rattled. My vision faded; my heart beat so loudly that all other sounds were drowned out. I may have lost consciousness for a second or two, my soul coming back into my body as I became vaguely aware of myself yelling, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over, interspersed with announcements of how hard my orgasm was and how amazing it felt.

As I finally caught my breath, Jake stopped and stared up at me. “You need more.”

“No, please, I can’t cum again.”

“Yes, you can.”

His blond-trussed head disappeared between my legs once more, his tongue snaking out, anew, with exactly the perfect amount of pressure. Following my gasping breaths and the quivers of the after-tremors from my intense orgasm, he varied his pressure, speed, and intensity until the waning crests of my previous orgasm crested higher and higher, causing another eruption between my legs.

Screaming in lusty agony, Jake didn’t relent this time. Adding fingers into my sopping canal, thrusting them in deep when my hips bucked, then pulling them out, fingers swirling, as my nude ass slammed back onto the table.

“Fucking hell, I’m cumming again.”

Covered in sweat, panting, my skin flushed, he finally let me come down from the most intense series of orgasms I’d ever felt. As he stood, I saw that his cock had grown hard again, making me need to feel it inside me.

“Monty, fuck me,” I begged. “I need you to fuck me, take me, slam me hard and deep. Just, please, fuck me like a whore.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Up my dripping cunt, in my ass, fucking my face.”

He laughed, wiping sweat from his manly brow. “I meant do you want to do it here, in your bed, on the couch?”

“I don’t fucking care; just fucking fuck me, already.”

He picked me up, sweeping me into his cable-like arms as if I were weightless, and gently lowered me to the floor. When I was married, if we’d even have sex, it was always missionary position, no foreplay, and never lasting long enough for me to enjoy. I instinctively rolled onto my hands and knees, sticking my ass out to him, offering it for plunder.

Taking his time, his hands traveling the entire length of my back, he positioned himself behind me. I could feel the thick, hot head of his cock probing at my entrance, getting slick in my juices. He continued his torturous assault on my burning flesh, his nails gently raking my back.

The feel of his cock pushing against my pussy caused me to press back on him. We fell into a natural rhythm, my entire body convulsing at the delight of him pushing against me, my mouth moaning. Our bodies rocked together, locked in a dance of flesh, his cock slowly entering my dripping snatch, each thrust of my hips burying it further.

As soon as the swollen head of his massive cock cleared the entrance, he thrust into me, hips slamming into my ass, hitting some magical place inside my cunt, sending me shooting into the sky, another orgasm spontaneously overtaking me.

“Fuck me; fuck me hard.”

“You feel like heaven.”

I fucked him back, just as hard as he was pumping into me. Our mutual grunts and groans mixed with the slapping of our flesh. My orgasms never stopped, just one after another, until my legs would no longer hold me up. Laying on my stomach, his cock still forcefully driving into me, he finally announced his orgasm was near.

“Please, not inside me, I’m not on the pill.”

“I’m cut,” he grunted out. “No chance of pregnancy.”

“Then fill me with your hot cum. I want to feel you spurt inside me.”

Jake groaned in response, his sticky cum shooting deep inside me. Stream after stream filled my canal, seeping out, running down my already-slick thighs. His moans were music to my ears, his cock still hitting all the right spots, and it shot into me with geyser-like force.

I pulled my ass away from his still-spurting cock, quickly spinning around to face him, his “python” still squirting all over me.

“Let me lick you clean.”

Thrusting lips over his inflating manhood, I greedily sucked, licked, and pumped him with my mouth. My tongue probed every bit of his cock, seasoned with a mixture of his cum and my sweet cum. I continued lunging my mouth over him until he shrieked.

Finally sated, I collapsed on the floor. Jake lay beside me, stroking my cum-covered, hot flesh. Not being used to any sort of after-care, I was ready to cry happy tears. Then, his phone rang, interrupting a perfect moment.

“Yeah, you got Jake ‘the snake’ Python, here.”

I listened to his affirmative grunts. He glanced at me.

“Fine, I’ll ask her. Hang on.”

“Melissa,” he began, sheepishly. “Our merchandising salespeople were reassigned to another tour. Steve suggested that you, your daughter, and her friends sign up and cover the job for the rest of the tour. Doesn’t pay much, only a few thousand each week, plus, you’ll need to live on the road with me and the band. Do you want to go on tour with us?”

“On one condition,” I smiled.

“What?”

“That you fuck me like that every damn day.”

“So you want to be my girlfriend?”

“I’d like that, but let’s start with groupie.”