1 comments/ 21606 views/ 9 favorites All Access By: TexRiffraff Brooke's favorite band is in town -- will she get to meet them? (Author's notes: This is a work of fiction. In this fantasy, nobody is worried about STDs. In real life, all non-monogamous sex should be practiced using accepted safe-sex precautions. All persons involved in sexual activity are 18 years of age or older. Special thanks to LunaRosa for her perceptive, insightful editing. This is a better story because of her. Note to readers: if you prefer your stories to be non-stop action, this may not be the story for you -- it is slow to become very Literotic. But if you like the characters and stay with it, I think you'll find it worth the effort.) : : : : : Thursday night, getting late. I was waiting at the stage door for a possible appearance by members of the hottest rock band in the country. It was me and about twenty other girls, about half of them with their boyfriends. I have to say, it was really funny watching the body language: the girls all looked excited, waiting for the band to appear, while the guys looked terminally bored, each one counting off the minutes until he could talk his lady into giving up and leaving. Big Bang -- some people think it's a silly name, but I think it's better than what most bands call themselves these days. Regardless, they're a great band. I've liked them since their earliest days. When I was in college, they were just a local band, playing all the bars. Even then they were really good, especially when they covered songs off the radio; however, their original tunes were, to be kind, awkward. A year after I graduated, and moved to the big city to climb the corporate ladder, I was browsing on iTunes, and noticed a new CD by a group with the same name. The cover art included a photo of the band, but online it was so small it was hard to tell if it was the same guys. The group I used to go see was a quartet, though, and this group was a five piece, so it was probably a completely different band with the same name. The more I looked at the photo, though, the more four of them looked familiar. So, what the hell, I bought it. Worst that could happen was I'd hate it, and be out $9. I loved it. It was the same guys. I found their web site, and saw that they had added a lead singer -- great voice, incredible looking, and he seemed to have a flair for songwriting as well. The songs were great -- I recognized the bones of most of them from the old days, except the new guy must have re-written the vocal parts, because everything that used to be cringe-inducing sounded great now. That was three years ago. Since then, they've put out two more CDs, both really good -- their songwriting keeps improving. They produced some really cool videos for several of the best songs, but I guess the videos weren't creative enough to go viral, so the CDs ended up not selling much. Then, last fall, they went on a national tour, opening for a major act. The major act's audiences loved them, and that got them signed to the major act's major label, and for their new CD they used the major act's producer. With a more radio-friendly sound, and the promotional budget of the larger record company, they hit it big: their new CD entered the charts at Number Five, and has been Number One since then - eleven weeks. It's been certified Gold, and is well on its way to Platinum. Now Big Bang is a major act. I saw on their website that they would be playing here, and went online to get tickets. They were playing two shows, Thursday and Friday night. Obviously I'd rather go on Friday and not have to worry about work the next morning, but by choosing Thursday, I got good seats near the front, instead of nosebleed. My boyfriend and I had been going through a rough spell, bumping into incompatibility after incompatibility. The only redeeming thing was, the post-fight sex was always incredible. When I told him I'd gotten tickets to Big Bang, he coldly told me I should get one of my friends to go with me, he had no interest. "You're kidding me," I said. "Nope, NOT kidding," he smugly replied. "All of those stupid bands you like that I've gone to see," I hissed at him, "without complaining, by the way. You know that I've liked Big Bang since college, before they ever recorded. Are you really that self-centered, you refuse to go with me?" "You got it," he said, as he slammed the door to my apartment. Normally what would happen was, within an hour, one of us would find the other one, we'd fall into bed, rip each other's clothes off, and fuck each other's brains out. I'm talking wild, out of control, animal sex -- he called it "lizard-brain fucking," whatever that means. Then the rutting would be followed by softer, more tender, more human love making, still with monumental orgasms for both of us. This time, no one came back. No make-up fuck. It was over. Good riddance. A friend from work was glad to use my other ticket. A few days before the show, my college roommate emailed me, saying she had just seen them, and, in her typical understated way, it would be "worthwhile" to spend some time at the stage door afterward, because the band was hanging out after a lot of their shows. My work friend loved the show, but wasn't interested in the afterwards, so she left. I understood -- we DID have work the next day. So, there I was, standing there at the stage door, a little off to the side from the main cluster of other girls. I became aware of a guy standing beside me. I didn't want to be rude, but, bottom line, I was not there to hook up. I optimistically hoped he was just there as a fan, also. "You think they'll show?" he said. "I hear that they have in some of the other cities," I answered, without really looking at him, trying to send a signal of "not interested," without being rude. "Who's your favorite?" "I like all the original four. I don't really know much about the singer -- I used to see them all the time when I was in college, before he joined." "I bet he's the reason most of these girls are here. You're from College Park?" Cool, he at least knew a little about these guys, so maybe he wasn't only there to bother us girls... "I went to school there, but it's not where I grew up." "So, you don't have a favorite?" For some reason, I was thinking of Dan, the bass player. "I dunno... back in the day, I thought Dan was cute." "I wonder if he'll show, tonight..." I nodded. "Do you think you'd know him, if you saw him?" What an odd question... I turned and really looked at the guy for the first time. He looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't place him. He was actually quite nice looking: very short brown hair, friendly, open face, trim bod, sparkling blue eyes. He had an amused look on his face, like he was enjoying a joke that I hadn't gotten yet. I continued looking at him, and if anything, his smile increased a bit. Then he unconsciously brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, and that gave it away -- I remember Dan doing that very gesture back in college days, and he had done it throughout the concert tonight. But Dan had a shock of shoulder-length, thick, curly, honey blond hair, quite different from this guy's buzz-cut. Other than that, this guy was a dead ringer for him. My face must have registered a change as I recognized him, because his grin widened. "Dan?" I asked, slightly disoriented. He held out his hand, and I shook it. "And you are?" "Oh, right, um, I'm Brooke, but everyone calls me B." "Pleased to meet you, B." "So, what's with the hair?" "Well, long hair is a hassle, especially when it's as thick as mine. So a few months ago, I was thinking it's time for a change, and I cut it off. When our manager saw it, he completely flipped out -- he just went on and on, saying over and over that the tour was ruined, that our looks were every bit as important as our sound, and I had wrecked everything. So, even though I think he's underestimating our audience, I got a Dan wig." "It fooled me." "It should, it cost enough. So now I've got the best of both -- I have 'the look' for on-stage, and the rest of the time, this (he gestured at his short cut) is much easier to maintain, and, as you now know, I can blend into a crowd and not get hassled by fans." "Yet here you are, with the fans." "Sorry, I didn't mean it that way. Fans are great, we owe everything to our fans. For the most part, I love our fans. There's a downside, though -- being 'recognizable' 24/7 is exhausting. It's a luxury to be able to be anonymous - have some privacy, go out in public, eat a meal, see a movie, walk around the park, without being interrupted." I left him a little gap to continue, but he was through. "You guys sounded great tonight." "Thanks. Hey, you wanna come backstage?" "Sure." I followed him back into the arena, through a different door than where the crowd was waiting. He regaled me with small talk on how the tour was going, while we walked down a concrete and cinder block corridor, curving around as it hugged the perimeter of the arena. We emerged from the tunnel into a large open area, very utilitarian bare concrete, a backstage area not only for concerts, but also the basketball and hockey games the arena was built for. Out in the middle, there was a square cubicle, about 15 feet or so per side, defined by some metal poles and tall, thick black drape. Dan said, "Let me just duck in here, I'll you a backstage pass, so you'll be legit." Right then, a frantic-looking guy in a band t-shirt, I guess a roadie of some sort, came running up, spewing some techno-babble at Dan, insisting that he had to come RIGHT NOW. Dan apologized, saying, "This shouldn't take long. Do you mind waiting in line a minute to get your pass?" I didn't mind. "My dressing room is just a little further down the hall, that way, it has my name on it. The door is open, meet you there?" I nodded. Several girls were waiting in a line at the cubicle, where a rather rough looking guy, very bored, sat in a chair. As I got in line to wait my turn, a quick flash of light spilled from inside the draped area, a girl giggled, and a voice within said, "Next!" The bored guy pulled back a panel of the drape, and the girl in front of the line disappeared inside. After a couple of minutes, the pattern repeated: flash of light, "next," and another girl was admitted. The girl now in front was a slender blonde, who would have been quite attractive, except her arms and neck were covered in coarse tats, and up close her complexion was a pasty shade of grey, about the texture of cold oatmeal. While we all awaited our turn, she gestured at the bored guy's band t-shirt, and said, "nice shirt." Without looking up, he said, "Thanks." "Can I have one?" "Sure, what size?" "Medium." The bored guy disappeared for a few seconds, and then was back with a shirt. He gestured at her top, "You have to give me that one first." It took her a moment to respond. "What?" "Your shirt. I'll give it back, but you have to hand it to me -- THEN I give you this one." It was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra. She froze, and he turned, as if to return the band shirt to its box. "Wait," she said. He turned back, she took a deep breath, and in one motion, pulled her top over her head. She stood there, holding her shirt out at him, while he just blatantly stared at her tits. She sort of shook her shirt at him, as if to say, "Hurry up!" He took her top, and shook his shoulders at her. She didn't respond, so he shook his shoulders at her again. Now she got it -- she shimmied her shoulders, causing her breasts to jiggle. At that, he handed her the band shirt. When she had pulled it on, he returned her shirt. He glanced at the rest of us and said, "Anybody else?" Three other girls spoke simultaneously, saying, "Nope, not a chance," "No freaking way!" and, "Sure, medium." When he got back with the medium, she was already standing there in her bra, holding out her shirt to him. He shook his head "no," pointed at her bra, and said, "That too." She hadn't planned on that, so she froze for a moment. He turned as if to put it back, and she also said, "Wait." He faced her, and blatantly stared at her tits as she reached behind and unhooked her bra, slipped it off her shoulders, and without waiting for him to ask, jiggled her tits at him. He took her shirt, handed her the band tee, and when she had put her bra and the t-shirt on, handed her shirt back. He turned to me and said, "You?" I had been debating myself on that very question. Con: I'm NOT that kind of girl. Pro: this shirt is better than the ones they sold at the concession stands, I'd love to have it. Con: I really don't care to have my breasts ogled by any bored guys. Pro: it's a pretty cool shirt. Con: I'm not wearing a bra either, the top I'm wearing has some support built into it, so I'll end up wearing the t-shirt braless. Pro: it'll impress Dan. Con: I don't care what Dan thinks. Pro: yes, actually, I kind of do care. Bored guy had reached the end of his attention span, so he turned to sit back down. "Medium," I said. He stopped and stared at my chest, obviously a man of few words. By staring at my tits, he made it clear he wasn't going to fetch the shirt until he'd seen the goods. Not believing what I was doing, I peeled off my top, shook my breasts for him, and stood there, on the backstage arena concrete floor, shirt off, tits out in the open. He went and got the shirt, I slipped it on, and reclaimed my top. By now the "no freaking way" girl had reconsidered, and said "Medium." He said, "Sorry, we're out," and sat back down. She took off her top and bra anyway; her breasts were HUGE. She said, "Are you sure?" He nodded. She shook her tits, probably registering on the Richter scale somewhere nearby, and said, "Are you SURE you're sure?" He gestured at her lower body, and said, "Those too." She looked at him in disbelief, and he gestured at the draped cubicle and continued, "You're gonna lose them in there anyway." Looking rather deer-in-the-headlights, she stepped out of her skirt, and stood there in her panties. He just stared. She held out her top, bra, and her skirt, he took them, and just stared. She stared back, trying to figure out what else she had to do, then she finally got the message -- "those," he had said. Looking a bit deer-in-the-headlights, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties, and slid them down to the floor. She held them out to him, and had to wait, as he stared at her pussy, which seemed freshly waxed. She broke the spell it had on him by wiggling her hips in a quick mini-hula dance. He took her panties, and went and got another shirt, leaving her stark naked. When he got back, he didn't even bother to say, "Oh look, we weren't out after all, I found some more." She held out her hand at him, and he just stared, going back and forth between her breasts and pussy. Eventually he gave her the shirt. She asked for her bra, and he handed it to her, much more slowly than was necessary. He held onto the rest of her clothes until she had put the bra and t-shirt on. She actually looked more exposed with the shirt on, bottomless, in this rather industrial arena corridor, than she had fully naked. He gave everything back to her, and sat back down to watch as she put her skirt back on, then pulled her panties on under it -- sort of a strip-tease in reverse. By then, I was wondering what he had meant by, "You're gonna lose them in there anyway." I mean, I'm not a prude; actually I've got a bit of a wild side: I've played strip poker and both won and lost, I've gone topless at the beach, topless on the dorm roof practically every day for four years (the warm ones, anyway), bottomless on the dorm roof a bunch of times, and skinny dipping at the lake, as well as some apartment pools and a hotel hot tub or two. I've played truth or dare with some friends who have WICKED imaginations. All of those things in mixed company. Then there was that Summer Solstice party where several of us chipped in and rented a Sybian. We placed it out in the middle of the back yard. If you wanted a ride, you just waited your turn and climbed on, but it was not for the inhibited -- kind of like riding one of those mechanical bulls at a western-themed bar, with everybody standing around it watching, except with a vibrating six inch dildo up your snatch. Mmmmm, that was three of the most savage orgasms I've ever had, now that's an amazing machine... Sex just dripped from the air. Ended up with around twenty of us in a daisy chain. My point is, if someone gets an eyeful, or even a handful or a mouthful, of my naked body, I don't automatically feel violated -- I enjoy being naked, as long as it's a natural part of the moment. However, if it's anything more than just having my shirt off for a few seconds, it's MY choice, and my rule is, it's always in a classy setting. "Classy setting" means no rough-looking bored guys. I was thinking that the thing to do was take the t-shirt and leave, cut my losses, and keep the souvenir. Just then the light flashed inside the cubicle, but instead of a voice saying, "next," a very nice-looking guy stuck his head out of the cubicle and said, "Which one of you is B, here to see Dan?" Well, that sounded like an "in" to me, so I gave up any thought of bailing. I tried not to smirk at the other girls as I entered the cubicle. Nice-looking guy pulled the drape shut behind me, gestured that I could set my top and purse down on a small round table, and then I was face to face with the lead singer, who was holding an old-school Polaroid camera. "Wow," I said, "I didn't even know you could get film for those anymore." "Turns out you can, but it ain't cheap," he responded, holding out his hand. "Chad," he said, as I took his hand and we shook, "and you are B?" "The one and only," I answered. "I can see that. And B stands for..." "Brooke." "Ah, Brooke, beautiful name." I started to thank him, but he continued, "My ex-girlfriend's name is Brooke. Broke my heart seven different ways..." I glanced at the nice-looking guy, who rolled his eyes like he'd heard this rant way too many times. "Tore my heart out of my chest and stomped on it with the Doc Martens that I bought her. Ripped my head off, and took a crap down the hole in my neck." He gestured at a portable bulletin board, where several dozen Polaroids were pinned. "Let's get your shot up there, and then you can be off to Dan-land." I looked at the photo board, expecting to see faces, but that's not what the Polaroids were. They were all variations of the same flesh-colored abstraction. I stepped closer. I squinted, and heard Chad snickering. He handed me a drumstick, held up the camera, and said, "Ready when you are." Now that I was right up to the board, with the drumstick in my hand, the shots made sense. They were photos of asses. Girls' asses. Girls' naked asses. Each girl bent over at the waist, with half a drumstick sticking out of her asshole. Most of the shots were framed to show that the girl was totally naked, usually a bare back and part of a boob dangling at the edges of the shot, but the emphasis was, half a drumstick, butthole. "Gee, Chad, what an irresistible offer. Not gonna happen," I said. "Your call, one-and-only. Every night there's a few who think they're too good." Well, confidence is a great thing. I've always found it very attractive. There's a thin line between confidence and arrogance, however, and arrogance never works with me. That night, it didn't matter if I was impressed with Chad, I wasn't there to see Chad. He and his ego were just tiny bumps in the road. At that moment my only thought was, "If he lays a hand on me, the next time he sings they'll have to duct-tape the microphone to a bloody stump." All Access If I wasn't mistaken, however, he had DARED me. Huh! I peeled out of my skirt and set it on the table with my top, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. My tummy fluttered and my face (and pussy) glowed in response to this crazy thing I was doing. I left the band tee on, he was going to have to get down on his knees and beg for that. Maintaining a lock on his eyes with mine, I drew the fat end of the drumstick across my lower lip, painting it sensuously, and swirled my tongue around its end. Then I took its very tip into my mouth, drawing my cheeks in so it would be clear that I was sucking on it, and slowly drank it in, half inch by half inch. Chad's smile lost a bit of its edge, and he gulped. I sucked the drumstick further into my mouth, until it reached my tonsils, then slowly pulled it out, leaving a thick sheen of saliva on it. When it came to its end, I pressed it down on my lower lip, making a sultry Lolita pout, then let my lip pop free. Chad's pants were nicely tented, and he made no effort to hide it. I pulled my panties down to my knees, again without breaking eye contact. "Nice..." he said, staring at the little diamond-shaped powder puff I keep trimmed at the top of my slit. I quickly bent over, pulled my cheeks apart, and plunged the lubricated stick up my butt, inserting it until it reached the end of the saliva. Holding his eye contact, I said, "Waitin' on you." He actually seemed a bit flustered, and stammered, "Yeah, OK, right," and snapped the picture. Instead of pulling the stick out right away, I asked, in a whispery Marilyn Monroe voice, "Would you take another, so I can have a souvenir, too?" He snapped it, the film ejected from the front of the camera, and he handed it to me. "I told you, this stuff ain't cheap." I pulled the drumstick out, immediately pulling my panties up, and said, still in the Marilyn voice, "I'm not either." I handed him the drumstick, and Marilyn said, "Here, have a lollipop." He watched in silence as I got my skirt on, collected my top and my Polaroid, and exited the back of the cubicle. On the way out, the nice-looking guy, who I guess had been watching the whole time, handed me a lanyard with a laminated pass clipped to it, saying "ALL ACCESS" in bold red letters. "Not for drumstick boy," I said over my shoulder, "NO access for Chad." As Dan had said, it was easy to find his dressing room. He greeted me warmly, showing no sign that he was in on the drumstick ritual. He offered me refreshment from his spread -- there was a variety of finger foods to choose from, as well as several kinds of beer, bottled water, red and white wine, and bourbon with several different mixers to choose from. The wine was Kendall-Jackson, excellent for a large vintner, but the bourbon was Knob Creek, my favorite, so I had that, on the rocks. I waited until he brought me the drink before I showed him the Polaroid. He turned fifty shades of red, and fell all over himself apologizing. He headed for the door, muttering, "I'm gonna kill him..." "Then you'd be in trouble with your manager again, worse than the hair," I teased. "Killing Chad probably WOULD ruin the tour." He nodded in agreement, but still looked pretty agitated. He muttered a series of anatomically impossible things he was going to do to Chad. "Dan?" I waited until he stopped mumbling and met my eyes. "I can tell you weren't in on it." He nodded. I paused, and when he looked like he was forgetting to breathe, said, "I'm over it." He exhaled and said, "Really?" I nodded. He relaxed and smiled. He picked up his glass and clinked it with mine, and bowed from the waist. "Alright, Brooke. Cool. I officially owe you one." We talked for several hours. I had expected to be constantly interrupted with more hijinks from Chad, but that only happened twice. The first time, two gorgeous girls, a blonde and an olive-skinned brunette, completely naked except for passes like mine around their necks, came running and bouncing into our room, giggling and out of breath. "You're Dan, right?" the blonde gasped. He nodded, and with no warning she locked her face onto his, looking from where I sat as if she was going to suck his tongue right out of his mouth. At the same time she pulled his hands up to maul her breasts. When she released, the brunette took her place, while the blonde explained, "We've got three minutes to suck face and get felt up by all four players, or Chad's going to spank us." She turned to the brunette and shouted, "Hurry!" then as they ran out of the room, turned to Dan and gasped, "Which way's Billy's room?" Dan pointed, and they were gone. "That happen every night?" I asked. "Not all, but most," he replied. A little later, three different girls, equally gorgeous, equally naked, two blondes and a redhead this time, entered the room, less frantic than the first two. "Dan?" the first blonde said. "That's me," Dan answered, continuing gallantly, "and this is B." "Hi, B," the redhead said to me, as the blondes surrounded Dan. "We're presents from Chad." Before I could ask what "presents" meant, the blondes were undoing Dan's belt, and the redhead was pushing my skirt up, and pulling my panties down and off. I looked over at Dan, and the blondes' heads were alternating, bobbing up and down at his waist. The redhead spread my knees, and attached her face to my pussy. I was a little too surprised to protest... I have to say, she was very accomplished at the Sapphic arts. She slowly lapped up and down my slit, softening me until my entire skeleton turned to jelly, then she focused on the area around my clit, vibrating her tongue over it. I had every intention of ignoring her stimulation, denying her the satisfaction of a response, but jeez she was talented, and in a very short time I was very near cumming. She seemed to sense that I was almost there, so she centered the action of her tongue directly on my clit, and I came, and came, and came. She stayed in place, easing me back down from my plateau with the same kind of longer, more sensuous strokes of her tongue that she started with, which had the added benefit of cleaning up any honey I had leaked. She maneuvered my feet back into my panties, and pulled them up. I looked over at Dan, and the blondes were re-buckling his belt. And then they were gone. Except for the post-orgasmic glow, it was like they'd never been there. "Almost every night, huh?" I purred, a little more dreamily than I intended. Dan laughed, and shrugged, as if to say, "What are ya gonna do?" Later, when no more naked girls had intruded for a while, I realized I was having a great time with Dan. He was surprisingly articulate, and he had a clear-headed view of the world that surprised me, a unique way of looking at many things that I am interested in. "You're a deeper thinker than I expected," I said, and he nodded his thanks at the compliment. "You guys were already going strong by the time I got to College Park. How did you get started?" He smiled. "I'm not entirely sure. I was the last to join the band, other than Chad. They were already a pretty big deal around town, but then their bass player got a girl pregnant, and chose life with her over the band. "I was a junior, and not doing very well -- let's just say that Engineering and I weren't made for each other. Actually, I wasn't really a good enough musician for them, but I bartended on weekends at one of the places they frequently played, so I was more familiar with their material than anybody else they auditioned. They had a boatload of gigs coming up that they didn't want to cancel, so even though I was barely adequate, I must not have sounded TOO bad, and I got the call. I really learned to play bass on the job in this band. "You are, too, by the way." He saw my quizzical expression, and didn't make me ask what he meant. "A deeper thinker than I expected." Unfortunately, I noticed it was getting late, and as much as I hated to go, I did have to go to work in a few hours. I asked him to get one of the guards to walk me out to my car, but he offered to do it himself. "Remember? I can blend into a crowd." On the way out to my car, he asked, "So did you notice where we're playing next?" I hadn't. "College Park." "That's cool. I haven't been back since I graduated." "It's our first trip there with Chad. You wanna join us? My treat." "How would that work?" "After our show tomorrow," and he glanced at his watch and corrected himself, "I mean tonight, we fly straight there." "There's a flight that late?" He shook his head. "No, the record company chartered us a plane for the tour, so we fly on our own schedule. "Meet me here tomorrow night. Let me see your pass for a second." He scrutinized it. "It's undated, so it'll get you in. Just come to the same door we entered tonight, the guard will let you in. You can ride with us on the plane. "Scotty -- our road manager -- I'll get him to get you a commercial ticket back, Sunday evening, and cab fare home from the airport. In fact, take a cab when you come down here tomorrow night. Get a receipt, and I'll get you reimbursed. That way your car won't be parked here unattended while you're away." "I dunno, Dan." "Oh, come on, I've had a great time with you tonight, and it looked to me like you had fun, too." "Does Chad have 'rules' about the plane? Will I have to 're-qualify' for back-stage there?" "No, and no. And before you worry about it, let me just say, this is a 'no strings' offer, I don't expect any 'benefits.' Nothing you don't want to do, that is... I'm not saying I won't try." "Just promise me no stripping, drumsticks, or any other hijinks from Chad." "Absolutely. Promise. You're my guest, and he has no say-so. I really don't think he'll try anything. If he does, we'll get Scotty involved, and Chad doesn't want that." "What about rooms there?" "We always get a block of rooms for friends and family. You're welcome to room with me, but if you'd rather not, we'll get you a room key from Scotty. I can't promise you'll get a room of your own, you'll probably have a roommate. "Get here by seven, you can eat with us -- the catering here is excellent. Then you can see the show from backstage." I realized that I had all day to make up my mind, and that I was completely in control -- all I had to do to bail was not show up. I said, "OK, you're on." We arrived at my car, and he leaned in and kissed me. I had expected that, but what I didn't expect was what an excellent kisser he was. "See ya tonight," I said. "Looking forward to it." : : : : : Most of the girls at work didn't believe me when I said I was deciding whether to spend the weekend with Big Bang, on their plane. After I showed them the back-stage pass, they thought I would be completely crazy not to. Throughout the day, I got texts from several of them, generously offering to take the All Access pass off my hands. : : : : : The plane surprised me. I expected a regular layout, the usual rows of seats that are too small and too close together, but that's not at all what it turned out to be. There was a narrow hall going down one side, like a railroad Pullman from an old black-and-white movie. Off the hall, there were six "suites," so each band member and Scotty got his own private room. They were divided by hard walls, not just curtains, and were set up like dens -- couches, big-screen TVs, some small amplifiers, and fridges, stocked similarly to the dressing rooms. There were two large, luxurious first-class style seats facing forward, for takeoff and landing, and each section had its own lavatory, with a shower. Dan showed me that the seats fully reclined, and said they were comfortable enough for sleeping. "But we won't have to sleep in them tonight, it's less than ninety minutes to College Park." Waiting for takeoff, we were interrupted several times by Chad's naked girls (surprise!), fulfilling various tasks. As they described it, sometimes it was to avoid a penalty, like being handcuffed or wearing nipple clamps, and sometimes the "winner" got a "prize" -- one of them explained as she bounced out of the room, "If I'm first, I get to suck Chad off!" Dan shrugged, there was nothing either one of us could say. There was a chime sound and a small red light came on. Dan said, "We're about to take off, we should get buckled in." When I had my belt snug, Dan raised the armrest between our seats and put his arm around me. I leaned up for a kiss, this one a little longer, and a little hotter, than our usual. I found myself wondering which would be a better platform for making love -- the reclined seats, or the couch. We talked some more, waiting for the plane to taxi and take off. Dan was an interesting conversationalist, and a good listener -- I found him exceptionally easy to talk to. I eventually noticed that over an hour had passed, and we hadn't moved. "What do you think is up?" I asked. He picked up a telephone-style intercom, and inquired. He hung up and said, "Well, it seems there's 'weather' in College Park. They'll watch the storm on radar, and we'll take off when the weather there permits." He noticed me trying to stifle a yawn. "It's late, how are you holding up?" "Getting drowsy," I admitted. He said he was, too. He got us both light blankets, dimmed the lights to a glow, locked the door to the cabin, and reclined both our seats as far as they'd go. "We can go ahead and go to sleep, they'll wake us when it's time to get off the plane. "If you don't want to sleep in your clothes, I've got some XXL t-shirts, you can change into one in the lav. That's what I'm doing." He changed first, which I suppose is the gentlemanly thing to do when there's undressing involved. When we were back in our seats in our makeshift jammies, I settled into the notch of his shoulder. He stroked my hair for a second, and I leaned up for another one of his fabulous kisses, this one quite long and deep. There's a moment, in such kisses, when it's no longer about the kiss, it's about what happens next. At that moment, guys divide into two types. The common ones just assume that they're "in," that the question "Are we gonna?" has been asked and the kiss means "yes." From that point, it takes a strong, emphatic "no" to override his assumption. The other guys, much rarer, realize that the kiss isn't the answer, it's the question. These guys, the good ones, when they find themselves in that kiss, they look for the lady's answer. Dan stroked my waist, over my t-shirt, caressing around from my side to the small of my back, and not sensing any type of "no," lowered his hand down to my bum. Of course he noticed the lack of any panty or thong, and whispered, "Mmmm, commando." Again, he paused briefly, to allow for the non-verbal transmission of a "no," and when there was none, he slipped his hand under the shirt, and caressed my ass. I sat up briefly and pulled the t-shirt completely off, and he did the same. I reached for him, he reached for me, and we dived in for our best kiss yet, this one accompanied by a completely skin-on-skin embrace. This is my absolute favorite moment -- any two people can grope, fondle, and fuck, but it takes a special guy to share the luxury, the sensuality, the warmth of such a hug. Dan rose to this moment wonderfully. He was rising in another way, and I lowered my hand down his side, and around to his front, surrounding his erection with my hand, slowly stroking his length. He cupped my breast, and leaned forward to kiss it, drawing circles over it with his tongue. He completely electrified my body, flicking the tip of his tongue over my nipple, stimulating it to full attention, then surrounding it with his lips, and sucking it between them into his mouth. He continued indulging my breasts with his tongue, and ran his fingertips down my tummy. I lifted my knee, to give him better access to the sensitive parts. He traced around the outer part of my slit, and then worked a fingertip between the outer lips, dipping it into the warm wetness. He had an almost psychic sense of what I needed, how hard or soft, how slow or fast, when to linger, when to move on to the next level. He continued to electrify my nipples with his lips, while he worked his finger up and down my slit, going a little deeper with each stroke. When he brought it up under the hood of my clit and wiggled it, I thought I would explode. "Inside me, Dan, now, now, now..." I rasped. He whispered, "You wanna be on top?" "Next time..." I moaned. He grinned, shifted his body between my knees, and guided himself into me. He was so attuned to me, so aware of how I was responding to him, and he had already gotten me so sensitized, I practically came on the spot. I was so wet that his first plunge slipped, easily, all the way to the hilt. He stroked me slowly and deeply, and I laced my legs around his, meeting each of his thrusts with one of my own. I signaled, and he responded, that we should pick up the pace, bit by bit, a little faster each trip in and out. He lifted his thighs, kind of frog-like, guiding me to lift mine up around his ribs. I crossed my ankles behind the small of his back, allowing his final half inch inside me. His cock was a wonderful size and shape, filling me fully, and his stroking was long and strong. We got down to serious fucking, any need for gentleness and subtlety dissolving away. I could feel my orgasm rising, in the background, slowly but surely. He caressed my breasts, teasing my nipples with his fingertips while he gently cupped the mounds. I anticipated a fabulous conclusion -- for me, the longer an orgasm builds, the bigger it is, and this one was building magnificently. Before long, he was pounding his cock into me, almost crudely, and I matched him, stroke for stroke. I felt the familiar waves developing, I sensed him beginning to tremble, and before I knew it, every nerve in my body combined into one unified link between my clit and my brain, and I just exploded. I began bucking uncontrollably, and that pushed Dan over the top. I squeezed him tightly with my arms, my legs, my pussy, every muscle I have, and somehow he found a way to continue thrusting into me, maintaining the peak of my orgasm. After an eon of ultimate sensations, he pushed fully into me, and held there. I locked my mouth onto his, and squeezed his cock with my pussy, so he wouldn't pull out yet. We floated gently, slowly, back to earth, rolling onto our sides, still with our legs interwoven. After a minute, or maybe twenty, I'm not sure, I whispered, "Holy moly, Dan, that was spec-TAC-u-lar..." He answered nonverbally, lightly stroking my back. Sleep came quickly. I slept through taking off. I woke once, my head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me. We were airborne, and he had tucked us in with one of the blankets. All was right with the world -- I felt relaxed, warm, and secure. Drifting back to sleep was effortless. I woke again, in a panic. The plane was obviously crashing, bucking and bouncing violently. Dan was already awake. He felt me tense up, and cradled me in his arms, saying, "It's just some turbulence, don't worry. The flaps extended a minute ago, I'm sure we're landing. This happens a lot when there's 'weather.'" We touched down, and began taxiing. Dan looked out the window, but it was too dark and rainy to tell where we had landed. He picked up the intercom again, whispered for a minute, and explained, "This isn't College Park. There was a gap in the storm, so we took off, but the airport closed again before we could land. "The weather there should be clear by mid-morning, we'll fly then. Of course, we have no hotel rooms booked here, so we'll stay on the plane, as you can see it's comfortable enough." It was. Again, sleep came quickly. All Access I awoke to the sound of the landing gear lowering. The plane was descending smoothly, and bright sun was streaming through the windows. I was tucked into Dan's shoulder, cozy under our blanket, our arms and legs intertwined, our t-shirts still on the floor. We had taken off and flown, and were now landing in College Park. : : : : : We took limos to the hotel. I'm sure I could have settled right into Dan's room, but I wanted to get a room of my own -- call it a safety net in case in case things went off track. Dan had said there were several rooms set aside for friends and family, but by the looks of it, they were mostly all taken by Chad's groupies. Dan introduced me to Scotty, who gave me a room key. I don't know how the rooms were assigned, it could have been random, but maybe they clustered me in with Chad's groupies and assigned our rooms alphabetically by first name, because I ended up in a room with Buffy, who turned out to be one of the blondes who had blown Dan, and Bambi, the redhead who had eaten me. I wondered if ALL Chad's girls had names you'd find on the marquee of a strip club. When I got to the room, Bambi had a deck of cards out. "Great," she said when I entered, "we can start now. The game is 'high / middle / low,' and this round is for oral sex. High card receives, middle card licks pussy, low card tongues ass." She fanned the deck, and said, "Pick a card..." "I'll be back in a minute," I said. Neither of them seemed to notice that I took my travel duffle with me and left my key on the table. I found Dan's room on the next floor up, and knocked. His face lit up when he saw me. It lit up more when I asked if I could bunk with him. "There's only one bed, a king-size," he warned, holding out a room key. I took it. "Works for me, Dan, works for me." : : : : : The plan was to limo to the arena in barely half an hour -- enough time to unpack for the weekend, not long enough for any sort of major encore performance. But maybe enough time to show Dan a little gratitude, both for the trip, and for rescuing me from Buffy and Bambi's lair of sleaze. He had gotten out of his regular jeans, had a pair of red ones set out for the show, and was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his Dan wig. I got on my knees in front of him, and pulled the front of his boxers down. His cock and balls bounced out. He said, "B, you don't have to do that, I told you, this is a 'no strings' weekend." I answered him by taking the tip of his cock into my mouth, and swirling my tongue over it. "But I want to," I mumbled around it. He grinned, and didn't argue any more. Dan didn't have the biggest cock I had ever seen, but it was far from the smallest. Actually, it was quite nice. And it seemed to like what I was doing -- before very long, I had a raging hard-on between my lips, and I intended to make the most of it. "Bheelf bree bhou rhumm bhen rhoorh bhreddy," I slurred over his dick. "What?" he moaned. I paused. "Feel free to cum when you're ready," I said, and immediately resumed. I could feel him grow a bit larger when he realized what I had said. I coated his dick in saliva all the way back to my tonsils, and then began to swirl my fist around the base while I concentrated on sucking the tip. Now, I'm sure Dan has had his share of cock-sucking aficionados who have far more advanced technique than I do, but I must have been doing something right, because it didn't take very long at all before I felt a trembling at the base of his shaft, and he exploded into my mouth. Several different guys have told me that when he is cumming, it's the most sensitive he ever gets. It's another one of my favorite moments. I mean, assuming you're not being forced, when you're giving someone else an orgasm with your mouth, there's such power in it, yet it's such a pure, simple moment. There's no BS between the two of you. There are body parts, there's brain, there's physical sensation, there's mental sensation, and all of those are wrapped up in an explosive force field of psychic, sexual energy. I mean, have you ever heard anyone say, "That was a shitty orgasm, I hated it"? Me either... He pulled me to my feet and kissed me deeply; again, I was impressed. Most guys want to avoid the possibility of tasting their own cum, however briefly. I guess they've never thought it through -- if she's willing to receive his jizz into her mouth, he should at least not treat her mouth with disgust. That's a good way to discourage her from ever doing it again. I had lost track of the time, and assumed we needed to rush down to the limo, so I was pleasantly surprised when Dan pushed me back onto the bed, unbuckled my belt, and pulled my jeans and panties off in one smooth motion. He pushed my knees up, pulled my outer and inner lips gently apart with his thumbs, and buried his face in my pussy. I was already sopping wet, which I assume he found to his liking, as he mumbled something which I think was, "Yum!" Dan really knew his way around the female anatomy, and, no surprise by now, he knew how to pay attention and read my response to his stimulation. He started out slow and luxuriant, letting me know that we had as much time as we needed. At the same time, he didn't waste any motion on anything that didn't move me nearer to a massive orgasm. He raised me up, level after level after level, building in intensity. I'm not exactly sure what he did with his lips and tongue, but it clearly involved suction, and every time I thought he had shown me everything that could be felt down there, and I would get ready to ride him over the top, he would show me another wrinkle, driving me to a higher level. Did I mention before that, for me, the longer an orgasm builds, the greater its power? Well, he took me to incredible heights, and when the wave finally washed over me, I completely lost track of all physical reality. Time and place ceased being, my mind and body just floated abstractly, slowly down through all the levels of delight and bliss he had taken me through. When I finally re-emerged in the here and now, Dan was still locked onto my slit, slowly caressing it with the softness of his tongue. I pulled him up alongside me, and kissed him intensely -- I'm not about to treat his mouth with revulsion, either. Tasting myself on a guy's lips was a bit of a cringe the first few times, it was definitely an acquired taste, but I've learned to like it, and I certainly wanted him feeling comfortable enough to want to do it again. : : : : : We were the last ones to get to the lobby. As Dan and I got into one of the band limos, I saw Buffy and Bambi glaring at me as they stepped onto the crew bus. My inner twelve-year-old had an urge to stick my tongue out at them, maybe sing "Neener neener neener," but I stifled it. When we arrived at the arena, it triggered some of my favorite memories. My friend Julia and I used to work here during school basketball games -- we interfaced between the city-run concession stands and the University. Basically that meant power-walking around the perimeter during every game, starting a half hour before the doors opened to the public, ending an hour after the game ended. We collected paper cash register receipts, noted which locations were running low on provisions, called for backup on walkie-talkies, and solved any other "emergencies." Not rocket science, but it kept the concessions running, the fans fed and watered, and we ensured that the University got its proper cut of the proceeds. I followed Dan to his dressing room, and he explained that the next few hours would be busier than normal for him, as the band was debuting a revised set list tonight. So, in addition to familiarizing themselves with the stage, and doing the usual sound check, where they would play several songs so the audio crew could optimize the sound system for the venue, they were going to do a full run-through of the new songs. He said I could chill in his dressing room, hang out in the wings of the stage, or, as long as I had my All Access pass (I did), anywhere in the arena. "I'll warn you, though, at this time of day, if you step out of the building, sometimes it's difficult to get back in, even with an All Access badge." It was time for him to be on-stage, so we set out in that direction. We were about to go up a half-flight of wide metal stairs to the stage level when I heard a shriek, followed by what sounded like someone, mortally wounded, on the final leg of a kamikaze run. I turned towards the mayhem, and was tackled by a blur of black capri pants, aqua and gold silk top, and blonde hair. "Beeeeeeee" the apparently female Tasmanian devil shrieked. Just as quickly as she had appeared, my attacker levitated up into the air. Suspended from her waist by the Popeye-sized forearm of a band bouncer, I finally got a clear look: it was my old friend Julia. It took me a few seconds to get my pulse stabilized, and my brain, voice, and jaw working well enough to speak, but I was finally able to convince the bouncer that it was OK, I knew this person, and she was no danger to me, Dan, or anyone else. "B, is it really you?" she said. I saw that the bouncer was still looking sideways at us. "Dammit, Jules, you always did make quite an entrance." "B, I can't believe this, what are you doing here?" "Um, 'I'm with the band.'" (I know, it's corny, but how often do you get to say that? I had to take the opportunity.) "I ran into Dan here a couple of nights ago, and since their next show was here, well, here I am." I gestured at both Dan and Julia. "Dan, this is Julia, who despite her dramatic entrance, is one of my favorite people. Julia, meet Dan, who is well on his way to earning his 'truly great guy' badge." They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. Then the same roadie from Thursday night appeared, with more urgent questions. Dan said to Julia and me, "Sound check is in about thirty minutes. Feel free to hang out here, but if you want to catch up somewhere a little quieter, I wouldn't blame you. You really should get back for sound check, you can hear some of the new songs that'll be on our next disk." Getting away sounded like a great idea, the stage was a hive of activities, most of them LOUD. Julia and I exited the stage, walked out front into the arena, up the stairs that the ticket-buying public would use to access the floor seats, and into the perimeter foyer. "Wow, B," she said, "Dan seems like a prince." "It's not that big a deal, I just ran into him at the show back home, and he was impressed that I wasn't obsessed with meeting the singer. When he found out I used to see them in the bars here, he invited me for the weekend. That's all there is to it." She gave me a pitying look, and said, "I don't think so. It looks to me like Mr. Dan is quite taken with you. He's got a glow, you're just not seeing it." "Jules, don't be silly. If he has a glow, it's because I fucked him on the plane-" She gave a whoop and held up her hand for a high five, saying, "Mile-high club!" "- and I blew him in the hotel room right before we came over to the arena." "You always were smart -- the way to a man's heart is NOT through his stomach. But just wait, I predict," she said knowingly, "this is more than a one-weekend stand for him..." "So," I said, hoping to move along to another subject, "Dan's why I'm here, what are you doing here? Surely you're not still interfacing the concessions..." "Not exactly," she replied, "I'm Facilities Manager." It took me a moment to get it. Then it was MY turn to whoop, saying, "You run the place! Congratulations!" I gave HER a high five. Before I could get more details on her position, Dan appeared. "There you are. We're gonna start sound check early, c'mon in and listen to the new songs, I'd like to know what you think of them." Julia raised her eyebrows, gave me an "I told you so" look, and we all started back to the stairs. We were about to head back down to the arena floor, when Julia slowed and said, "I'll catch up with you in a minute, I see something I need to check on." I stopped, to see if we could wait for her. She crossed to the other side of the foyer, where the door to a maintenance closet was ajar. She pulled it open, and there, among the mops and brooms, were three pairs of bulging eyeballs, startled, unblinking, all staring at us. Talk about deer-in-the-headlights... It was Buffy and Bambi, and another rough looking guy in a band t-shirt. The girls were on their knees at the band guy's feet. They were naked from the waist up, their shirts draped over mop buckets. The guy had his pants down around his ankles. His smallish, hard dick glistened with freshly-applied saliva. He was slightly bent over, pawing a Buffy breast in one hand, and mauling a Bambi breast in the other. Dan had stopped when we did, and huffed in exasperation. "Cadaver, dammit, get out of there and get back to work." The guy sheepishly pulled up his pants, said, "We'll finish later, right?" to the girls, and shuffled off toward back-stage. The girls were frozen, still too surprised to cover their tits, but one of them finally pulled the door shut. They emerged a few seconds later, shirts back on, and scurried after "Cadaver." One of them giggled, and said, "Oops, you've got my top on, and I got yours." Julia shut and locked the door, and we headed back into the arena. "Sorry," Dan said. I asked him, "That guy's name is 'Cadaver'?" He shrugged in the universal "beats me" gesture. Julia chuckled, saying, "And those girls, I mean, who blows a roadie?" I laughed. Dan winced and said, "I'm not sure you'd even call him a 'roadie.' I don't know what he is, he hasn't been useful enough to earn a real title. I guess he's officially the truck driver's assistant -- we pay him $85 a day, which with the hours he works, probably isn't even minimum wage. He also gets $20 a day for meals, and he shares a room with the driver in the cheapest hotel we can find." : : : : : Sound check was interesting, alternating between periods of tedious technical adjustment, and some surprisingly high-energy performing. Based on what I heard, their next CD could be their best yet, the new songs were that good. Julia gave me that look again when Dan asked me whether I liked them. After their run-through, band, crew, and hangers-on assembled back-stage for dinner. Although the catered buffet looked really good, Julia suggested that she and I go to the Varsity Diner, a nearby eatery which, back in the day, was outstanding. She assured me it still was. I asked Dan if he'd like to come, and Julia gave me "the look" again. He said, "I'd love to. Um, Cal, our sound guy, he's been with us since we were based here. He used to love the Varsity. Can he come too?" Julia paused, and Dan added, "Nobody else, but Cal would really love it." Julia seemed less than thrilled, but agreed. Dan went and fetched Cal, and introduced him to Julia and me. It turned out, Cal and Julia remembered each other from the Varsity -- they both used to eat at the counter, and had sat next to each other several times and chatted. Julia's body language said that they were good memories for her. We turned down the corridor to leave, and Dan said, "Give me just a second," ducking into his dressing room. When he reappeared, he had left his Dan wig behind. He and Cal and I set out towards the exit, but Julia said, "Wait, shouldn't we wait for Dan?" Dan chuckled, and I said, "Julia, meet Dan. Dan, Julia." Dan held out his hand as if to shake hers, again. Julia did a double-take, and said, "Oh." Then we all set out towards the door. Walking outside, Julia asked, "What do you do, Cal?" He replied, "I'm FOH." Julia and I asked in unison, "What is 'FOH?'" Cal looked embarrassed, and said, "Sorry, I try to avoid using tech lingo, but sometimes it slips out. FOH stands for 'front of house' -- out in the audience, in other words." He paused, lost for words, and Dan continued, "When we play, there are two main guys running the sound equipment. Randy runs Monitors, he controls what WE hear on-stage. And Cal here is FOH, he controls what the audience hears." Julia wondered, "Why wouldn't that be the same?" Cal answered, "In the audience, you need to hear everything they're playing, sounding as much like the CD as possible. Even the biggest guitar amp on stage isn't loud enough to fill up the hall with sound, so I put microphones out for every instrument, and I control how much volume each of them has, so that everything is at the right level. "On stage, it's a very different environment. It's very important that the band guys hear each other clearly, but the amplifiers are loud, and the drums are loud, while their singing voices, and any acoustic instruments, are quiet. The boxes you see on the floor all over the stage, those are monitor speakers, which are just for the band. Randy does for the monitor speakers exactly what I do for out front -- he turns everything up or down so that the band hears exactly what they need. So, he controls what the band hears, and I control what the audience hears." The Varsity was every bit as wonderful as it used to be. I got Julia to finish explaining her rise to Facilities Manager, and we told Dan and Cal some war stories from the old days. Dan told Cal about finding Cadaver in the custodian's closet, and Cal rolled his eyes. From that point on, Dan and I tried to be polite in our conversation and include Julia and Cal, but several times, before we realized it, we had sort of shut them out and were just talking between the two of us. I couldn't help noticing that the two of them seemed to have no difficulty maintaining a conversation of their own. And the later the meal got, the more likely it became that they would be the ones who tuned us out. Interesting... On the walk back to the arena, Dan and I walked together, holding hands, deep in private conversation. Several steps behind us, Julia and Cal did exactly the same. : : : : : The moments leading up to the show consisted of more flashbacks to college days. Even though this was a concert rather than a game, and even though it had been years since I had been here, the arena felt exactly the same as it came to life. Its pulse hadn't changed at all. There was much for Julia to oversee leading up to opening the doors to the public. There were concession stands to get provisioned, restrooms to be sure were fully functional and fitted with sufficient paper products, and with a hall full of potential Cadavers, Bambis, and Buffys in mind, lots of closets and 'staff only' doors to make sure were securely locked. Julia of course didn't have as many specific duties and she and I did back in the day, but she had to interface with a dozen or so people who did. She introduced them as they checked in with her, most of them earnest, energetic college students. One of them stood out, a swimsuit-model-caliber brunette named Ronni. She and I seemed like we could really hit it off, if she hadn't had to go take care of her duties. "Ronni does pretty much what you and I used to do," Julia explained. "The technology has completely changed -- all the concession registers are networked, so there's no paper register tape to collect, and supplies are inventoried over the same network, so we usually know when a particular location is running low of anything. "We tried to do without any runners at all a couple of years ago, and it was a disaster -- there's still all sorts of minor panics and emergencies that need a human to solve, and the inventory system doesn't do well keeping up with breakage, spoilage, and other waste, so we need humans to verify that levels are adequate. Ronni is the best of the current crop of staff, she just makes problems go away. I don't have to worry about anything that she handles."