Noise Band in Your Pants

I spotted you across the basement over the shoulder of the guitar player. In such a cramped space faces were only visible for a glimmer of a second. Our eyes met, mine piercing through your horn rim glasses, totally bypassing the sequin on each upper corner. I brushed my bangs out of my face, pushing the whole deal over to one side so it hung down to nose level just left of my face. Underneath my second hand hound’s-tooth blazer, Argyle cardigan, and Fighting T-shirt my chest started thudding with maniac excitement.

I swilled down the last of my PBR, which incidentally was almost the whole can, and started shimmying my way though the crowd. I parted the sea of band shirts, blazers, and second rate moustaches until I was standing just near enough to see the unlabeled bottle of homebrew in your hand.

I began to dance furiously and people somehow managed to make some space. The band was playing something that sounded like a cat being beaten with a salmon and a wah wah pedal, but with a little more lyrical content thrown in. It was danceable, and pretty soon you disappeared your beer and were keeping time with my spastic flailing and hopping.

When the song stopped, so did we, mere inches from each other, sweating with well earned perspiration. You glasses were steaming up, and I said something along the lines of “I do declare! It’s a scorcher in here. “ I offhandedly addressed you saying to nobody in particular, “wanna go get another drink?”

“Sure” you said and my whole body did a little heel tap. We climbed the stairs and stole some beers, you being out of your home brew and me being too distracted to care what cheap swill I drank.

Somehow one beer later we were out on the porch talking about Fred Penner’s Place, Kurt Vonnegut, and Mario Kart. It was nostalgic foreplay at its finest. I told you about my art career, and you told me about your shitty retail job saying you’d much rather follow your passion for art, though your parents couldn’t afford it yet.

A half hour later we were riding our fixies (I can’t believe you ride a fixie too!) back to my house on Main Street, weaving playfully though the deserted streets and passing a bottle of whiskey off back and forth.

We were up the stairs and in my bedroom in the blink of an elephants eye, you glasses messing up my bangs and your neon pink flats getting lost along the way. I quickly unbutton your Mr. Rodgers sweater to reveal an architecture in Helsinki cutoff with a bit of black bra strap peeking from the cut out neckline.

I begin to nibble and suck your neck, while your hands peel off layers, unbuttoning and unzipping. I pull off your loose shirt. You attack my neck with love nibbles while my hands slide under your shoulder straps and pull down with one swift motion revealing your Tom Robbins Heroine beautiful breasts.

For a brief moment I think of Chomsky, then think of what all his worries are depriving him of while I drop to my knees and begin caressing and sucking your breasts. You pitch your head back and moan, and I breathe warm air onto your tight nipple while my tongue flicks all around the areola and firm bud.

You pull off my shirt and we collapse onto my bed, which is covered with transformers sheets I found at a yard sale last summer. Our clothes disappear though it takes an awkward moment to untie my Throwback Vans high-tops. Somewhere in the background the Kings of Leon are pumping out some tasty rock riffs, while I lick and kiss my way down to your peach fields. I feel my scruffy beard rubbing against the downy brillo of your landing strip, and I push your legs apart to reveal a not unkempt, but non-kindergarten arrangement of pubic hair. I kiss and suck along the inside of each thigh, moving towards your pussy then backing off, then repeating. Between each thigh I place a closed lip kiss on your clit, then flick it once with my tongue. Each time you wince, and after three of four passes, you’re gyrating your hips against the bed to try and head my mouth off at the pass.

I begin to tenderly lick and kiss you clit while my hands explore your abdomen, breasts and inner thigh. Then I grasp your buttocks and begin to work you clit hard with my mouth and tongue, teasing, sucking, and flicking until you’re squirming the way I like you. I play your pussy like old school Nintendo, moving my head to try to make you jump higher or run faster. Then when you’re getting close to the warp zone, I slip two fingers into your pussy and begin with a come hither motion that would make David Bowie proud. You begin to spasm around my fingers and your hips buck unpredictably. I latch on and suck for dear life, until your spasms subside, then I ease off, kissing your clit tenderly while my fingers retreat and massage your lips and fleshy outer folds.

Once you’ve regained your head, I ask for some. You eagerly pull off my American Apparel Briefs and begin to bathe my cock with your tongue. I let you suck and play with it for while before asking if you’re ready. You look up at me and smile, and I see it in your eyes without you saying a word. I produce a condom almost as if by magic and roll it on. You straddle me and that pussy that tasted so good is all of a sudden the center of my world.

You ride me hard, moaning and rubbing my chest while I play with your tits and tell you how beautiful you are. I flip you over onto your back and put you though my driving lesson, until you’re tensing and grabbing at the sheets and wall. I put you on your knees and face you towards the large mirror on the wall so I can fuck you doggy style while still looking into your eyes.

I begin to pound away while you meet me on every stroke. I feel the clenching in my nuts and you lick your lips and smile saying “c’mon baby, I want you to cum.”

I give one last push and lose it, both of us half gasping half yelling incoherently, until my orgasm subsides. We collapse, me on top of you and catch our breath. After a minute I slowly pull out, making you shudder, and pull off the condom. My dick is still pretty stiff though, and you notice immediately.

“Got another in ya?” you ask.

“Definitely” I say.