Playing With the Band

As Carol closed the door, Al let Zach have it. "Why the f*ck didn't you tell me there was a chick with you?"

"Why the f*ck didn't you put your clothes on before you opened the door? What were you doing—choking the chicken?"

"F*ck-off!"

The other band members apparently heard their exchange because they wouldn't glance his way or Al's, but they had grins on their faces.

The only place to sit was the banquette. Al sat across from Zach, his back to the others. He glanced over his shoulder at them, then turned back and leaned forward. "Who is that girl? She looks like a f*cking model or movie star," he whispered."

Zach shrugged. "Some asshole threw a beer on her and she wanted to use our restroom."

"Yeah, she was all wet. Great rack. Is she by herself?"

Hogan tossed a spitball at them and hit Al in the head. "No secrets, guys."

"Al was just asking if she's alone."

Petey asked, "Why Al? You wanna f*ck her?"

Al turned sideways. "You wouldn't?"

Rossi laughed. "A guy would have to be brain dead or a fag not to wanna tap that prime USDA meat."

Hogan stood and started pacing. "F*ck, I get hard just thinking about her. Do you think she would? Make it with any of us, I mean? If she would I would do anything—anything she wants."

Zach nodded. "Yeah, I would, too. Hell, who wouldn't. I don't know? She did say we were great looking guys."

Petey asked, "You really think so. You really think one of us has a chance to score?" He intertwined his fingers and bent them back, the way he did when he got ready to play the keyboard. "I'd start by running my fingers over her fabulous tits."

Rossi elbowed him. "I keep telling you, Petey. Girls like to f*ck as much as guys. I wonder what she's doing in there."

Zach leaned back into the corner so he could see everyone better. "Well, it's a given she took that wet blouse off. After that I don't know.

Hogan rubbed his hands together. "I'll bet she's putting in her diaphragm so she can f*ck all of us."

His brother smirked. "In your dreams, dickwad."

"Calm down, guys." Zach raised his hands.

Petey wrapped his hands behind his head. "Maybe we should draw straws in case she does want to f*ck one of us."

Rossi frowned. "C'mon Petey. If she wants to f*ck one of us, don't you think she'd pick who it'd be?"

"You're right," replied Hogan, "I'd sure like to stick my tongue up her c*nt. I'll bet her p*ssy juice tastes like ambrosia."

Petey frowned. "What's that?"

Zach answered, "It's the nectar of the gods. It's from Greek Mythology. You'll probably learn about it when you start college."

Hogan nodded. "That's right. It's supposed to be the most heavenly tasting thing you can drink.

I'll bet Zeus and Eros and the rest of his band-mates up on Mount Olympus got ambrosia from hot little sex-kittens like Carol."

Zach laughed. "And I'll bet it made them drunk with lust, like us."


* * * *

That's it. Warm, tingling sensations coursed through her. Carol pushed her fingers deeper and squirmed. Just listening to those horny guys had her climbing the walls. She felt like f*cking too—did she ever. But if she did, who would she pick? Zach, Hogan, Al, Rossi, Petey? They were cute, and if they weren't cute, they were sexy.

She'd heard enough. She pulled her hand from her slippery, wet p*ssy, sucked her fingers clean, sighed and stepped out. "Hi, I'm back. I hope you don't mind my appearance."

Every single one of their mouths fell open.

Petey cried out, "Jesus, get a load of those choice tits."

Her nipples were at attention and taut. She bit her tongue. "Sorry, I didn't have another blouse to put on."