Wicked End

by Bella Jeanisse

  Giovanni looked around to make sure no one heard. “Yeah, I guess… if she wants.” He kissed Crystal on the lips. “Good night, my love.” Then he closed the curtain.

  “Night…”

  Crystal was suddenly very tired. She lay on Tommy’s chest, hoping it would ease the throbbing pain that had started in her head. When he put an arm around her and squeezed her ass, she closed her eyes and pretended he was Giovanni, so she could sleep.

  Dominic watched Giovanni for signs of a jealous fit. He saw none. It didn’t make much sense. When it came to Chad, Giovanni went ballistic, but he allowed Tommy to hold her in bed? He knew Tommy was holding her, try to push her into sex. Had Giovanni really made that much of a change? If it was real, then maybe they could actually make it as a couple.

  His phone went off and he groaned. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to his girlfriend. He got up and headed to the bathroom. With twenty-two people on the bus, it was the only room with some privacy.

  “Hey, Gina, I called, but I got your voicemail. “ He promised to call before they left.

  She shook her head. “I know. I’m sorry. I was at Leigh-Ann’s school.” She paused as she sat on the couch, finally home from her job as a hostess at a popular restaurant. “I wanted to say good-bye in person.”

  She knew it was only for one concert, but usually they talked before he went out with the band. The same temptations would be there. She had always told him to just be careful and not tell her what happened. She just had a strange feeling lately. He seemed to be pulling away.

  Dominic was avoiding her. He didn’t like how much she wanted to be at his place. He needed time to himself. When Jon reminded him about the trip, he was relieved for a few days away from her. He cared about her too much to just break up with her though. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way. He had to come up with a plan.

  “I’ll miss you,” Gina softly told him.

  He leaned against the door. “I’ll be back sometime Sunday night I think. I gotta get some rest, OK?”

  “Sure. I get it.” She could feel he had something on his mind. “Dominic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you need to blow off some steam, it’s OK.” She hated saying it, but would rather give him permission, then him cheat on her.

  He smiled and shook his head slightly. “Thanks.” He ended the call and looked at the ceiling. “Why can’t she be a bitch about it?” He did try to be faithful. After a few weeks of jerking off, he usually gave in and let groupies blow him. Sex though, he tried to reserve for just her.

  He only had sex with one other woman in the last year, Noelle Young. She was the female singer of Winter Winds. Her band had been on Gasoline’s last tour. They connected and wound up having sex several times, in February. He didn’t regret it, but felt bad that he hadn’t met her before Gina.

  Noelle was still special to him. He had gotten close to revealing his painful past to her. She got that deep inside of him. Every once in a while, she texted him and it never failed to make him smile. He had hoped Winter Winds would meet them in Michigan, but no such luck. She told him that they had another engagement. However, she promised they would be at the Boston Festival Labor Day weekend. He couldn’t wait.

  Jon knocked on the bathroom door. “Dom, you taking first shift or second?” He was not the least bit tired and they were sharing a bunk. They had all drawn straws to see who would sleep where. Tommy and Sam, Vince’s assistant, drew the longest and got a bunk for the trip.

  Opening the door, Dominic shrugged. “I don’t care.”

  “Hey, man.” Jon put a hand on his shoulder, knowing something was wrong. “You know you can talk to me.” He waited, hoping Dominic would open up, but he didn’t say another word. “Why don’t you take the first shift? You look like you can use the sleep more than me.”

  Dominic forced a smile. “Thanks. I think I’ll do that.” He walked over to his assigned bunk that he let Phil take a nap in. He was Triple Threat’s other roadie. Dominic drew the curtain. “Hey, Phil, time’s up.”

  Phil jumped. Then he realized who was talking to him. “Oh, OK.”

  He was the youngest of the Triple Threat group at 21. Being very handsome and standing five foot ten with a toned body he worked hard on, he was a bit conceited. He kept his sandy brown hair semi-short, just enough to be pulled during sex. He had a tendency to hit on women who wouldn’t look at him twice, including Crystal. When his sexy light brown eyes didn’t real them in, he bragged about playing guitar and bass, although he rarely used that talent.

  Almost his opposite, was 24-year-old Mark. With long dark brown hair and eyes, a body as muscular as Giovanni, but only five foot seven inches tall. Phil said he was annoyingly faithful to his girlfriend. What Phil didn’t know was he had been dating Rachael for two years, and she caught him cheating on her with a groupie once. He swore off other women when he realized how much he loved her.

  “Thanks for letting me crash for a while, Dom.” Phil climbed down and headed for the kitchen to get a beer.

  The movie was still on in Tommy’s bunk. Crystal slept peacefully in his arms. He was disappointed, but he knew how to get just a little bit of relief. He put her hand down his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his half-hard cock. When she squeezed it, he moaned softly. Then he slid the fingers of his other hand under her panties. She gasped when he pushed two into her pussy.

  Dominic was still awake almost twenty minutes later. His mind was reeling. He needed something to help him get his mind off the situation with Gina, so he could see it clearer. A few beers did him no good. They may have made it worse. A barely audible moan made him turn towards the curtain. He rolled his eyes, knowing it was Tommy. That was the last thing he needed, to listen to him.

  Tommy still held Crystal’s hand, helping her give him a hand job while she slept. Silence was impossible, but he had his mouth buried in her hair, trying his best. He was imagining they were in his living room, while several people watched them fuck. He groaned while pulling her closer and pushing his fingers in deeper.

  “What’re you doing?” Crystal asked, confused, still not quiet awake.

  Tommy’s teeth clenched, when she fought his grip. “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop. Fuck…” He jerked faster, not allowing her to pull away. “I need to cum,” he whispered. “Unless you wanna blow me?”

  She looked down at his thick, seven and a half inch erection in her hand, trying not to be aroused. It was no use. He drove her up a wall. Then she felt his fingers inside of her. The angle wasn’t best to make her cum, but he seemed to be giving it a lot of effort. She moved a leg over his, so he could reach further inside. When Tommy gasped she smirked, knowing what was next.

  “Fuck!” Tommy cried out as semen spurted onto his abdomen. He panted for a few minutes then groaned. He hadn’t thought about a towel to clean up. He kicked his shorts off and used them to wipe up the fluid, before tossing them in the corner.

  Crystal’s eyes roamed over his firm naked body, “Happy now?”

  “For now.” He pulled her leg higher up his body and thrust his fingers in fully. “Your turn.”

  She bit her lip and held in the moan. His rhythm was quick and right on target. “Tommy,” she whimpered softly. Seconds later, she gripped his arm and buried her face into his neck. “God.” Her pussy throbbed and clenched, her entire body shuddering.

  “Better now?” When she nodded, he turned her to face the wall and wrapped his arms around her. Then his lips moved to her ear. “I wanna wake up with my dick in your mouth.” He missed having her around for daily sexual relief.

  She sighed, unsure why Giovanni agreed to her sleeping with him.

  Dominic punched the pillow, trying to find a way to get comfortable, but the stress was too much. After a few more sleepless minutes, he growled, “I need a blowjob too damn it.” He had not made time for sex with Gina in almost two weeks.

  Looking down his body, he stared at his aching, stiff cock, held back by pajama botto
ms. The moans had turned him on. He hated when his body reacted to Tommy getting off. His hand slid down and rubbed the nine-inch long shaft, trying to ease the pain a bit. It made his mind wander instead.

  He could feel Noelle’s pussy wrapped around his dick. Her slick heat gripped him as she came. Imagining himself buried deep inside of her, his hips lifted, automatically. His eyes drifted closed. Before he knew it, he was jerking his cock, trying to stay quiet. Pursing his lips, it was damned near impossible.

  Noelle was the most amazing woman he ever met and masturbating to her always made him cum real hard. He gripped the edge of the mattress, while his back arched. His hand worked his cock faster, still feeling her, hearing her moaning in his ear. He wanted to see her again, feel her, fuck her.

  “Noelle,” he softly whispered, lost in a fantasy of her in his bunk. Then suddenly his body tensed. “Shit!” He cried out as semen spewed out, all over his bare chest and neck. “Damn it. I didn’t think of that.” He rolled his eyes as he encouraged a bit more fluid out of his dick then laid back, exhausted and sated for the moment.

  When his limbs had sensation again, he sat up and checked the bunk for stray clothing. There wasn’t any. He moved the curtain slightly and peeked out, No one around. Quickly, he jumped down and hauled ass to the bathroom. He groaned as he attempted to clean up the mess. There was cum in his hair, some even running into and over his pants. It was pointless, so he took a shower.

  After drying off and getting a clean pair of shorts, Dominic walked to the front of the bus. All was quiet except for the television on the wall. He glanced around at the sleeping bodies, strewn all over. The only one awake was Giovanni. He sat on the couch, watching an action film.

  Giovanni moved over as far as he could, so Dominic could sit. Chris was asleep half sitting up next to them. “Hey, can’t sleep either?”

  “Nope.” Dominic sighed as he settled down. “Too much on my mind. You?”

  After glancing at the bunks, Giovanni looked at his hands. “I’m trying to be open like Crystal wants me to. It’s not so easy.”

  “I doubt she expected to you to let her sleep in Tommy’s bed.” Dominic met his questioning gaze. Then he decided to give him some advice. “Keep it simple. Make some rules and stick to them. And don’t let her do stuff you can’t handle. You’ll resent it and she’ll think you don’t care.”

  Giovanni nodded his head. “So, telling Tommy he can do what he wants was not so smart I guess.”

  Dominic’s eyes opened wide. “You told him what?”

  “I said just don’t fuck her. That’s why I can’t sleep. I keep imagining him all over her without me.”

  Shaking his head, Dominic replied, “He’s probably fucking her anyway. Take her into my bunk and hold her tight. When Jon’s ready to crash, I’ll ask him to sleep on the air bed.” He slapped Giovanni’s leg. “Go get your woman.” He smiled as Giovanni stood and went right to Tommy’s bunk.

  A hand on his shoulder made Tommy turn. He was surprised to see Giovanni. “What’s up?” He pulled the blanket up a bit more, so Giovanni didn’t see he was naked.

  “I changed my mind.” Giovanni talked softly. “I’m taking her to bed with me.”

  Tommy groaned and lay on his back. “Damn, I knew it was too good to be true.” At least I got to cum. He shook Crystal gently. “Hey, babe, Giovanni wants you.” When she was climbing over him to leave, he slipped a hand under her pajamas and stroked her pussy through her panties. “You owe me a blowjob, babe.”

  “Maybe,” she mumbled and practically fell into Giovanni’s arms. She would much rather sleep cuddled up with Giovanni than Tommy. “Glad you changed your mind.”

  Those words made Tommy realize he wanted Crystal to sleep with him so he wouldn’t be lonely. The weeks she spent as his place made him crave a closeness he never imagined he’d want. She changed him, although he denied it, even to himself.

  Giovanni nodded at Dominic as he helped Crystal into the bunk. Dominic smiled and nodded back. He liked giving advice, but liked it more when it was followed. He continued down the aisle to the back room. When he opened the door, he found Jon asleep on the air mattress. That meant he didn’t have to break the news to Jon, and he had nowhere to sleep.

  He grabbed a pillow from the closet and went back to the movie. Then he leaned on the pillow and relaxed into the couch. There was just enough room for him to be semi-comfortable, with Chris taking up half of it. Seconds later, he heard Crystal cry out. If the bus had not been so quiet, he may not have heard it. That meant Giovanni was staking his territory. Good for him.

  Coming Soon! in:

  Gasoline

  Sneak Peek: And Then Her Mouth

  by Portia Klee Jordan

  Chapter One: Mathilde

  They picked her up in a bar.

  It held with long tradition in Eurotrash swing. It was the etiquette of their set.

  “Mathilde, or something, I swear to sweet Jesus,” Lise breathed out at him, her hair like black night in a Veronica Lake sheet over half her fading face. He remembered the first time he noticed that expression, over a big bowl liquor glass filled with amber fluid, when she was young. When they were both younger. How the force of desire punched him back from the table like a fist. It knocked the wind out of him. They had been together for a little while; some nights, maybe a week in the islands, dewy with damp funk, fucking in that fervid, hazy scape, covering everything—the bed, their bodies, the air around them—with a fine sheen of cum and sweat. He had come to think of it as the manifestation, the light purple coat of love. He matched her and it was good; he was not going to let her go. And this costs.

  She had been holding the glass up to her lips, like she did this night, and she stood by him in a little corner of the tiki-hut tourist trap bar they had taken up at, transfixed. Fogging her glass with her moist breathing, in and out, a little cloud of steam and passion forming and dissipating as she stared at something across the black-lacquered disco floor, over the Continental lounge lizard heads. He remembered with a slight, warm smile that it had been like a shock, it had hit him like a shock, when he realized she was gaze-locked with a rather ordinary looking American. A woman. That was the price. That was the first time.

  For some reason, only when they traveled—which was fine with him. Perhaps even the pattern he would have picked. Tonight they were in a bar in Amsterdam when Lise decided on Mathilde—and whether or not her name was Ebba or Gerde, she was Mathilde tonight. Lise always picked the names and the women.

  Some kind of wildness creeps over a traveler, some kind of freedom from societal mores and traditional codes, a beautiful, cunning wantonness surfaces even in women who have been flogged with fear from birth. Robert found it easy to approach women traveling. He was, after all, the prick-coded counterpart of an extremely attractive couple. Without fear of insulting them accidentally, without worrying about what words to choose to provide some cushion of decorum and safety, Robert approached these women in the bars casually and honestly, prowling. Lise had smiled into his ear one night, mouthing it, her hand milking his balls through thick trousers (he could feel her grin against his ear,) that he was the best pimp she had ever known. Then she sent him off with a squeeze to work his magic on “Sabine” or “Paquette” or, one very memorable evening, “Juana.”

  Mathilde had jostled up against him, pushing her soft body into his shape as they performed the verbal dance on the padded railing and among the hot, drunk patrons squeezing them together. He could feel Lise on the other side of the fountain, smoldering into her globe glass, watching them. He knew she had already worked her left hand up under her tight skirt, and was stroking herself , her slender, pale fingers enraging the already purple, bulging lips of her cunt. He often suspected the deft, pulling circles of her fingers conducted the sentences he exchanged; that with the tempo of her hand Lise orchestrated the night and he was just the instrument of an engorged, hungry organ unable to move autonomously, to service her own desire. He could never hav
e imagined a more just deity. He attended without hesitation.

  Between them in the cab, Mathilde reeked softly of bar smoke, a beery floral perfume, and underarm sweat. Her breath was hissing and fast, mewling out of her open mouth as she panted with slightly drunken lust. He knew the words from those pimply, furtive days in boys’ middle school, “groping,” “fondling”—they alone elicited this dirty, prickling erection. But it was far more satisfying to be plying soft young flesh, pinching pink arm skin and stroking Mathilde’s breasts into damp, stiff peaks; wedging himself down to suckle on her cherry red nipples; feeling Lise through Mathilde’s body, rubbing up against her, grinding hips in awkwardly, crammed in the back seat of the cab as it careened through traffic, the driver unable to keep his eyes off the rearview.

  The shaving was a ritual. Robert remembered the provincial French girl, her first time overseas, they had picked up in a Japanese saki house. The look of pure terror on her face when Lise had produced the straight razor was thrown into sharp relief by the dissolving hysterics they had all collapsed into once its purpose was explained to her. Lise shaved Mathilde with care and erotic dexterity; Robert had become so entranced with the cold sharp metal/hot tender skin contrasts of this particular foreplay, it aroused him like no other fetish. Mathilde’s naked cunt, just the smallest obligatory nick smiling in a thin red line, readied, washed and pampered for his probing, fingering, fucking—the anticipation almost overwhelmed him.

  Mathilde stood in a little pool of her own excitement in the center of their rented flat, looking at both of them with limpid, large wet eyes. She was stripping, pushing at her clothes, stretching them tightly over her round proportions, oozing out of a slip, her hands coaxing her breasts from a sweat-soaked brassiere, her skin glowing hotly in the warm yellow light. Her hands. Her hands releasing her body, the smell of her sex, the odor of wet pussy waving out around her as she turned her back to them, looking coyly over her shoulder through a halo of golden hair at them in periphery, pushing panties down over the globes of her asscheeks and then bending over, her legs splitting like the white skin of a pomegranate as her head bent to the ground, the fruit and smell of her cunt revealed to them like a jewel. Robert heard the slight gasp and felt Lise give out a tiny shudder beside him—a sure sign of something she called “the psychological orgasm.” He smiled to himself. His own silk pants were spotted with fluid leaking from his cock, bathing the head, making the once soothing material clingy and itchy. His mouth was watering.