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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no    o
o  particular order other than offering them to you in  alpha-    o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s   o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises    o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!  This story was produced as adult en-   o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.  Kristen Becker   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o


The Band Guy (MM)
by Anonymous Author
(c) 1993





So we finished up the set and I unplugged my guitar and stumbled off-
stage. Shit. Another fucking rotten show, and here I was not even drunk.
The next band was standing around in the back room tuning up and playing
with cables. Weirdos. I grunted at them and packed my guitar into its case
and turned to head back out to get my amps.

Mack and Jamie were stomping back in themselves, carrying some of Dan's
drums. "Oy," I said, "good show." Jamie just laughed once, sharp and
bitter. Mack sneered. I went back and pulled my amp and effects off the
stage, trying not to look out at the audience, what few were left after our
show. I didn't really talk to the rest of the band. They wandered off
separately anyway. They had places to be, and I didn't. I decided to load
up my stuff and hang around.

Finally, everything out in my car, I wandered back in to catch the next
band. It was some big guitar-rock band, real AC/DC typesÑ not really my
kind of thing at all. I stood near the front, leaning against a pillar and
checking out the rest of the audience. It was your typical Friday-night
crowd, some goths who had showed up early for the headliner band, a bunch
of metalheads headbanging and air-guitaring along with the guitarrist up on
stage, and a few college students in from the local schools. Nobody really
interesting, so I turned back toward the stage, which wasn't much of an
improvement. Some guy with more hair than a flock of bimbos was jumping
around and squealing while another guy played big heavy distorted bass
notes and a third went off on a masturbatory guitar solo.

Somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, wondering if someone
from my band had come back, but it was some girl I'd never met. All I could
really see in the glare from the stage lights was a leather jacket and dark
hair framing a slightly rounded face.

"What?" I asked, shouting over the music.

She mumbled something at me.

"What?" I shouted again, louder.

"Who are these guys? They're awful!" She stuck her face right up next to my
ear and shouted back. I could smell, faintly, a hint of sweat and some
slightly flowery smell. Nice.

"I don't know!" I tried to say it loud enough for her to hear, but she
shook her head and mouthed "What?" back at me. I looked around for a
minute, and motioned toward the door. She nodded and began to push her way
through the crowd. I followed, watching the way her legs moved. She was
wearing a long black dress, I saw now. Her legs were long and looked
strong, but not over-muscled. Her hair fell down to her shoulders, glossy
and straight. As we passed through to the outside, I could see that it
wasn't quite black, but very dark rich brown, like good coffee or expensive
chocolate. The streetlights reflected in her eyes as she turned back
around. My ears rang in the sudden silence.

"Wow," she said, "those guys really suck."

"Yeah, I have no idea what they were doing on the bill. They're completely
unlike any of the other bands." It didn't look like she'd recognized me.
After that performance, I hoped she hadn't.

"Oh," she said, "I just got here a few minutes ago. I was going to stay for
the rest of the show, but I don't know... I don't really feel like hanging
around."

"Where are you heading?"

"I don't know. I have no plans, really."

"Neither do I. Feel like a coffee somewhere? Elle's Cafe?"

"Well," she said, considering this, "I have to be home eventually, but
sure." She smiled at me. I smiled back, watching her eyes. "My name is
Emma, by the way."

"Michael." She nodded, still locked on my eyes. She made good eye contact
almost constantly. It was a little bit disconcerting to have someone paying
that much attention, but I decided that from her, I didn't mind a little
attention, or, indeed, a lot of attention. "Shall we?"

I gestured for her to lead the way, and she stepped forward, hands thrust
into the pockets of her jacket. I joined her, walking to her right and
trying to catch as many glimpses of her face as I could without being too
obvious and staring. She had even features, her face a near-perfect oval,
and almond- shaped eyes, smooth skin, white teeth. I felt slightly nervous
being around someone like her, someone as lovely as herÑ I almost expected
her to disappear, to be a fantasy sprung from my mind to keep me company. I
hadn't been seeing anyone lately, not since my last girlfriend had left me
for some Norwegian exchange student. "He's so deep," she told me, "and so
wonderful to talk to. Not like you." I just shrugged.

"Oh!" The girl's voice jolted me from my thoughts, and she grabbed my arm
as if for support. I had a few seconds to look at this, to feel how her
hands clasped my bicep, before I realized what had stopped her walking.

We had almost reached the building that housed Elle's, or at least the
remnants thereof. If was as if a single tooth had been pulled from one jaw
of the streetÑ where once had stood Elle's and a half-dozen other small
shops was now a pile of rubble and broken brick. A couple of fire trucks
were parked in the street in front of the pile, and several firemen were
spraying water across the debris, presumably trying to extinguish any
lingering flames.

I halted where I was and stood, staring. "Shit." I blinked a few times.
"Wonder what happened?"

"Oh," she said, "I hope nobody was hurt."

I looked around. There were no ambulances in sight. "Well, if they were,
they've already been taken to the hospital." She pressed against my side,
and I put my arm around her waist as she stared at the destruction, her
hand on my shoulder.

We stood for a couple of minutes like that, there on the street. I still
tried not to stare at her, although her face was only a few inches away
from my own, and I could smell again, faintly, her hair and smoke from the
club.

"Well," I said, turning at last to look down at her. She looked back up at
me, eyes wide, chin leaning on her hands on my shoulder. Our lips were less
than inches away, and I could feel her breathing, slowly, as she looked at
me.

I had just taken a deep breath and begun slowly, slowly to move my head
forward when a police car sped by, siren wailing, and she jumped and looked
around frantically for a minute and began walking quickly back the way we
had come.

"What?" I asked, trotting to keep up with her. "What is it?"

She just shook her head. I could see tears glinting on her cheeks as she
walked.

"What?" She wouldn't answer, and finally I stood in front of her and
grasped her by the shoulders.

"What is it?" I asked, watching her face as she stared at my feet. She
sobbed, inhaled raggedly, and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I told her," she said, "I told her I smelled gas! And she wouldn't listen
to me. Stupid!" And she began sobbing again, burying her face in her hands,
and leaning against me. Not knowing what else to do, I wrapped my arms
around her and gently rocked back and forth, running my hands up and down
her back. I didn't know quite what else to do as she cried into my chest,
but it must have worked a little, since she took her hands away from her
face and wrapped them around me, pulling me closer as I held her. Again we
stood motionless on the street for a few minutes, until finally, her sobs
quieted down and she just stood there quietly, breathing deeply, only
shuddering a little bit.

"Um," I began, tentatively, "are you all right?"

She sniffed. "Yes, yes," she said. "I... Do you have a car?" She looked up,
tearstreaked and lovely, and I nodded. "Can you take me home?"

"Sure, yes. Here, come on." My arm still around her shoulders, and hers
around my waist, we slowly walked back to where I was parked. I unlocked
the car for her and tossed a few tapes into the back seat. She sat down and
buckled her seat belt as I walked around and got into the driver's seat.

"How do we get there?" I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot. She
gave me directions-- a good 15-minute drive. I turned onto Grove Street and
we rode in silence for a few minutes before I could build up the courage to
ask her what was wrong.

"My sister runs Elle's," she said, and I almost said, "Oh, neat!" before I
realized the implications.

"Oh," I said. "I see."

She lived in a three-decker not far from one of the colleges in town, on
the third floor. None of her roommates were home, and she asked me to come
up.

"I just don't want to be alone right now," she said. "And I trust you." I
smiled, and she smiled back thinly. A tear still glistened in the corner of
one eye. She blinked, and it vanished.

Her apartment was clean and light. A few posters hung on the walls in the
living room. There was no television, but a large stereo and an assortment
of CD's. I looked through the stack of disks, keeping one eye on Emma as
she called her sister. She stood next to the phone, tapping her foot as it
rang on the other end. Finally, someone answered, and I heard, faintly, the
voice on the other end.

"Hello!" said Emma, "It's Em!" The voice sounded a little bit peevish.

"Yes," she said, "I know it's late. Yes. Yes, I know." There was a pause.
"Look, is Elle there? No, it's important. Does she know--" There was a
longer pause. "Oh, okay. Okay. She is. Oh, God, oh..." I turned from the
CD's and walked quietly over to Emma, watching her carefully. "Uh huh." She
nodded. "Oh, good. Oh, good!" She smiled and looked at me. I smiled back.
"Thanks, Mark, thanks. Good night." She hung up the phone, still smiling.

"It's all right! Someone pulled a fire alarm, just as a gag, right?
Everyone ran out of the building, and something fell on a stove and caught
fire, and the place burned down. Nobody was hurt at all." She leapt into my
arms, hugging me tight enough that I had trouble breathing. "And it looks
like the insurance will even pay for all of it!"

A little bit disoriented, I patted her on the back. She squeezed me again
and then stood back. "Oh," she said, "I'm sorry to have put you through all
of that."

"No problem at all," I said. "Glad to have been there."

"I think," she began, thoughtfully, "I'm going to go to bed now."

"Oh," I started to turn toward the door, "I'd better be going, then."

"Um," she faltered, "I've... I've had kind of a shock." The smile was gone
now, and I turned back to her, watching her carefully. "I may look like I'm
fine, but I'm still feeling a bit shaky. Do you think..." She faltered
again. "I don't want to be alone. Do you think you could stay here
tonight?"

I thought about it for a minute. I liked Emma, from what I had seen of her,
and I did want to make sure she was all right. And I had nowhere I needed
to be the next day. "Sure." I went and poked at their couch. "Looks
comfortable enough."

"No," she said, taking a few steps toward me, "would you sleep in my bed?"
I must have looked startled, since she drew back suddenly. "If that makes
you too uncomfortable, you can sleep out here, but I think I really need
someone to be with me right now."

I nodded. "Okay. But I don't have a toothbrush with me, so I make no
guarantees about my breath."

She grinned. "Okay."

I followed her into her bedroom, which was small and cluttered with clothes
and books. A smaller stereo sat in one corner, and a desk covered with
tapes sat across from the door. She pulled back her quilt and sat on the
edge of the bed, pulling off her boots and tossing them into one corner. I
closed the door after myself and looked around.

"You look uncomfortable," she said.

I grinned back. "Oh, a little."

"Well," she said, "don't worry about it. I don't really expect anything. I
just need someone to be close to."

I nodded. That didn't help much. I didn't think I could conceal my arousal
at sharing a bed with someone to whom I was attracted to as much as I was
to Emma.

She, meanwhile, had stripped down to her underclothing, grey-striped boxers
and a black bra supporting lovely rounded breasts-- not large, but smooth
and firm-looking. I tried not to stare as she looked over at me.

"What?" she said, pulling on a t-shirt and performing that bra-removal
contortion that I've never quite figured out. "Are you going to sleep with
all your clothes on?" I didn't move. "Come on," she said, "I'm tired. I
want to get to bed."

I shrugged again, and began to pull off my own boots and pants as she slid
under the covers. I couldn't help but notice the way her breasts moved as
she breathed and stretched her arms. Her nipples protruded just slightly,
casting tiny shadows on the white of her short.

"I usually sleep naked," she said, and rolled over, which was a good thing,
since that thought had more of an effect than I could conceal while wearing
just underwear. "But since you look so uncomfortable, well..." I laughed, a
little forced chuckle. "Can you get the light?" she asked.

I looked around for the switch and flipped it downward. The only light, dim
white, came in from a single window that looked out on another house. I
walked slowly over to the bed. The cover was still pulled back, and,
shrugging inwardly, I sat down and swung my feet up into bed and lay down.
There was a sigh from Emma as I rolled over myself, and she snugged her
back into my chest. She reached around behind her and grabbed my top arm,
pulling it around her and clasping my hand under her chin. I could feel her
breath on my knuckles as I carefully pushed my other arm under her head and
held her around the shoulders. She giggled quietly.

"What?" I said.

"Oh, nothing." I could almost hear her grinning in the half-light.

"No, what?"

"Oh, nothing," she said again, but she wiggled her butt a little, and I
realized what she was laughing at as my erection twitched a bit at the
friction.

"Nothing?" I asked, giving a little thrust with my hips.

"Well, something," she agreed, and snuggled against me, flexing her buttock
muscles. I laughed.

"Stop it!" I said.

"Stop it?"

"It tickles."

"Oh," she said, "sorry." I could tell she wasn't.

"Um," I said, reality dawning, "do you realize that you've known me for
about a total of an hour and a half now?"

"Yes," she replied, "that's true."

"And I'm in bed with you."

"Yes," she replied again. "But I trust you."

"How can you trust me already?"

"Well," she clenched her bottom again. My penis fit nicely into the cleft,
and when she squeezed it, it felt rather nice, "for one thing, you held me
when I needed it." I made a little "m-hm" noise, and she went on. "For
another, you drove me home." I made another little noise of agreement. "And
you seemed decent enough when we were talking." I nodded. "And finally,
your band is too rotten to have given you a big ego, so you're probably a
really nice guy."

This one stopped me. "What?" I said, thinking I had missed something.

"Yeah," she said, "I came in at about the middle of your set. You guys
really stink."

"Oh," I said, "Thanks so much." I tried to roll over to face away, but she
held my arms and I couldn't.

"No, no," she said, "that's good. I've had it with those really popular
bands and their guitar gods and all of those macho bullshit artists. If I'd
asked one of them to drive me home, they'd have been all over me in the
front seat. Not you though. You seemed like a nice kind of guy." I grunted,
and she squeezed me with her butt again. "And you're cute, too!"

I laughed. "I am?"

"Well," she said, "I thought so, anyway."

I smiled into the back of her neck and closed my eyes. Oh well, I thought,
I'm here, aren't I?

We had been quiet there in the dark for a few minutes when she began to
shift around a bit. I shifted around myself, and she let go with one of her
hands and began to shift the blankets around her legs.

"What're you doing?" I asked, a little bit bleary from being almost asleep.

"Just getting comfortable," she said, finally settling down.

We were quiet again in the dark. She wasn't pressing so hard against me
anymore, and I kept my eyes closed, smelling her hair and her skin, and I
was feeling warm and close and content when I felt something brush my hip.
There was a little sigh from Emma, as her fingers softly pushed in under
the waistband of my undershorts. I still had an erection, and as her
fingertips brushed the head of my penis I involuntarily took a breath and
held it. She laughed almost silently, just a little quicker breath of air
as she ran her fingers along the length and it twitched in response. She
stroked it softly, back and forth, brushing just slightly the ends of her
nails against the head, and finally, as I took shallow breaths and tried to
relax my arms, she wrapped her whole hand around it, still stroking up and
down.

"Ohhh..." I exhaled, and I began to move my lips around the back of her
neck and her shoulders. She arched her back and grasped me more firmly, her
hand around the base of my penis, and I moved one hand down from under her
chin to cup her breast, brushing my hand and fingers across her nipple. I
could feel it, just a little bit firm and pushing out against her shirt,
and now it was her turn to exhale and sigh and tense as I bit down softly
on her earlobe, working it between my teeth. Her hand, now, was stroking up
and down harder as I rubbed her nipple, and I decided to move downward. I
slid my other, upper hand down her side, around her arm, reaching back and
feeling how smooth her skin was through her t-shirt. I ran my fingers down
to slide across the waistband of her boxers, or I would have, anyway,
except that I discovered that she was no longer wearing them.

"Hey," I said, and she laughed and gave me an extra squeeze. I could feel
the edge of her pubic hair, coarse and wiry, as I ran one finger down
toward where her legs met. She parted them slightly to let me in, and I
could feel her labia, the outer lips soft and slightly sweat-dampened. I
carefully worked my finger between them, sliding in along the slick and wet
of her arousal and out to stroke her clitoris. I rubbed in little circles,
and suddenly realized that Emma should probably stop what she was doing
with her own hand. "Wait," I said, and she stopped her rubbing and moved
that hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer and giving me easier
access to her sex. I moved my finger in and out of her, my thumb sliding
across her clitoris, my other hand still rubbing and caressing her nipple.
She pressed herself against me, her other hand on top of mine on her
breast, and I bit her again on the shoulder and on the neck. She pressed
against my crotch, her bottom fitting perfectly my stiffened organ. "Oh,"
she said, and "Oh!" again, and stiffened suddenly and arched her back. I
kept at her, and slid a second finger into her as she moaned and relaxed
again and finally collapsed. We lay there together, still, for a minute. I
moved my hand a little bit, and I could tell she was still wet, but she
wasn't moving, and I slid my fingers out of her. I was content to just lay
there myself, spooned against her. Then she turned, suddenly, and I could
see her smile in the light from the window, and her eyes gleaming as she
stared at my face.

"Well," she said, "that was nice, but..." She trailed off.

"But what?" I asked.

"You'll see," she said, smiling there in the half-light. I grunted again
and was about to say something else when I felt her hand push against my
shoulder, tipping me over on my back. She knelt and straddled my hips; I
could feel hairs brushing against the head of my penis as she pulled her
shirt off and I got a good look at the breasts that I had until then known
only by feel. Her eyes were still locked on mine as she tossed her shirt
aside and put her hands down, pausing on all fours for a second before
looking down along my body and then back up at my face. She grinned and
began to slowly move backwards down the bed. I watched as she crouched
between my legs and first took me in her hands and then, her eyes rivetted
on mine, brought her head down and began to slide my penis into her mouth.
She looked away, then, closing her eyes and began to move up and down along
the shaft. I could feel her tongue making circles, darting along the bottom
of the head and across. I moaned out loud again, and she laughed, eliciting
another moan. My fingers wound through her hair and I stroked her as she
stroked me, sucking me in and out and moving her head in tiny circles. My
entire being was focussed on my groin; I felt as if my erection had grown
huge, had absorbed all of my body and my mind, and I had been reduced to
nothing but a single disembodied penis awash in pleasure.

"O God!" I cried, and she laughed. "Oh my. Oh," I begged, "don't stop." She
didn't, and I could feel myself swelling even more, building, and as she
slid her mouth down again, and her tongue moved along my length, I pulsed
and came and came and a ragged cry ripped from my throat as she tried to
suck me entirely down hers, and when I finally finished, and she let me
slide from her mouth, I could do nothing more than just lay back, suddenly
covered with sweat and cooling.

"That good, then?" she asked, and I could hear the laughter in her voice. I
mumbled something incoherent and flapped one hand helplessly. "I'll take
that as a 'yes,' then," she said, and lay down next to me, her head on my
shoulder. I put an arm around her and she pulled the covers up over us and
we slept.