textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/band.txt

                   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. 


                        COPYRIGHT 1992