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It’s April of 2010, and your 18th birthday has just passed recently. Your best friend from middle school, Nicole—who moved away to New York in freshmen year of high school—invited you up there to see the Foxboro Hot Tubs at The Bowery Electric. She knows just how much you adore Green Day. The poor thing, you’d talk her ear about them off for ages after American Idiot came out. You two were just 12 years old at the time. Now, it’s almost 6 years later, and she’s bought you tickets to see their side project at a small show here in the city. Accompanied with fake ID’s, of course, since this is technically a 21+ venue. New York is big and daunting, but you have your gal pal by your side, and you’re on your way to see your idol for the first time since you were 13 years old.
You two have been partying for a while now, but Nicole has gone off elsewhere. Probably to mack on some dude or something, you think to yourself. So, now it’s just you in the crowd. You’re just outside the frays of the moshpit, wanting to be involved in the action but not wanting to lose something or get assaulted. Like last time… You’ve been dancing to ‘Stop Drop and Roll’ (which they’d go on to play another four times in a row.) And when the song ends, you look up to see Billie bounding like a bullet in the air, straight into the crowd. A cacophony of hands raise into the air to carry him along, shuffling his sweaty body across the crowd. He reaches where you are, and you desperately throw your arms up to touch him. Any part of him will do, but you flinch when you realize what part of his body your hand has landed on.
You feel as your hand slips down over his bulge, landing in the crook of his thigh. You yelp and let go, feeling like you just violated the poor man. The loss of your support makes the rest of the party goers stumble about, trying to hold him up but failing. Their arms weaken, and he falls straight to his ass with an ‘oof’.
You shriek, feeling as if you just embarrassed the person you look up to the most, and yourself. You quickly bend over, extending a hand to help the singer up. Without looking at you or registering who’s helping him, he grabs onto you firmly and lifts himself from the grungy wood floor.
He dusts himself off with a huff. “Phew, thanks…” his voice trails off when he sees your face. You feel yourself go hot with embarrassment instantly. Oh god, does he know?! Eek!
But his own expression softens into a smile. “Thank you, pretty lady,” he says, finally, to your surprise. Words catch in your throat, barely a meek breath leaving your parted lips. He chuckles. “No need to get tongue-tied, baby girl. I appreciate the help.” He gives you a wink and the spins on his heel, rushing over to the stage and hopping back up in a swift jump. Continuing where he left off.
You stand there still, jaw to the floor practically. As you get slowly shuffled further and further to the back of the crowd. Eventually they stop playing ‘Stop Drop and Roll’ for the umpteenth time and switch to ‘Ruby Room’, a song about a strip club and a stripper. It’s kind of sexy, at least in your opinion, and Billie’s sultry voice adds to the delivery of the lyrics. You bob along to the song, less energetically than your previous dancing. That moment in the crowd still replaying on loop in your mind.
The sight of Billie over you. Your hand on his…thing. When you dropped him by accident. The way he looked into your eyes as you helped him up. Calling you baby girl?!
You shift uncomfortably as you stand awkwardly in the back, thighs pressed together. You sigh. It’s time for a drink.
You wander over to the bar and sit down. The bartender, an older gentleman, eyes you up and down suspiciously. You pray the jig isn’t up.
He moseys over. “What can I get you, hon?”
You’ve never drank before, except for beer at the two lame parties you’ve been to. So you hesitate. “Erm… I don’t drink all that often, haha… what do you suggest?”
He reads your face for a second. “You look like a Cosmo kinda girl. What do you say?”
You shrug. It seems overtly girly. A bit stereotypical, but after all, you don’t know much about alcohol.
You nod. “Sure. Sounds yummy,” you say, unconvinced even of your own words.
The bartender stops. “Can I see some ID first?”
Right. You shuffle through your purse and pull out your wallet, hoping and praying that you remembered to stuff your actual ID away. You did, as the fake one stares back at you. You flash it to the bartender who takes a careful look at it and shrugs. “Alright, lemme get that cocktail ready for yah’.”
After a minute or so, he whipped up the drink fairly quickly and slid it across the bar. “That’ll be $20.”
You pull out a 20 from your wallet and an extra 5 for a tip. You set it on the bar and he scoops it up. Your lips pucker as you take a sip of your drink, not expecting it to be so sour. It’s a little sweet… but very citrusy. So you decide to take smaller sips, savoring the flavor of such a pricey drink as you turn around and watch the show behind you from a distance.
You look at Billie as he performs his antics on stage. Singing, dancing, thrashing about, pouring beer on himself and the crowd… making out with Kevin Preston. Yeah, that’s a thing he’s been doing on tour now. It’s not new, per se, he’s made out with his other band members before, but it is kinda hot regardless.
Maybe it’s in your head… but it feels like occasionally you catch Billie staring at you. Maybe he’s just looking over at the bar in general, dying for a drink just like you were. Or maybe you’re going crazy. You glance over to the corner where a few black booths are tucked away, looking for your friend, Nicki, but she isn’t there. Damnit, where did she go?! She better not have ditched me here…
You order another drink, or two… and maybe a shot as well. You’re a giggly, blushy, drunken mess by now. Inhibitions have gone long out the window. You can barely make a decision to stand up, let alone to stop drinking before you turn blackout. You stumble back over to the crowd, your limbs betraying you as you try to dance, but really you just flail around the place. Your arms in the air and your legs carrying you wherever they will. Unfortunately, dancing in a large crowd, up against bumping bodies while drunk and in heels is not a good combination, because you feel your heel catch on something—causing you to take a tumble. You see the ground approaching at a blurry pace, before…
“Whoa!” You screech.
“You okay, baby girl?” That voice sounds familiar. You look up, and see Billie Joe–fucking–Armstong of all people, breaking your fall.
This time, however, you’re a bit too far gone for your tongue to cramp up. “Yeah! Never been better, phew!” You stumble back to your feet, a drunken smile plastered on your face.
His eyes are wide with surprise, but he returns the energy. “Somebody’s enjoying herself. Can I buy you a drink?”
You nod frantically, like an excited kid. “Hell yes you can!”
He laughs at your eagerness and places a hand on your waist. “Follow me, then.” Your heart skips a beat at his touch, and his hand placement… but you don’t listen to him. No, you’re too full of yourself to do that. You tug him by his black and orange polka dot tie over to the bar. He trails behind you like a puppy dog on a leash.
You throw yourself down into one of the stools. It spins under you. Billie stands in front of you, twisting the stool back so you face him. He looks down, right into your eyes. Hands gripping the edges of your seat. Your breath is hot on his bare chest. “What would you like?” He mutters.
You think for a second, your finger pulling on your bottom lip while you stare back into his striking green orbs. While you ‘think’. “A martini,” you answer.
He raises an eyebrow. “How would you like it?”
You don’t know a lot about cocktails, so you answer the best way you know. “Dry!”
He pouts playfully at you. “You sure? You already seem a little… tipsy. Maybe we should go with something lighter—”
You shake your head fervently. “Nuh uh! Martini! Dry! I know what I want!”
He laughs and obliges. “Alright. Yes ma’am.” You bite your lip at the honorific. ‘Ma’am’? He’s like a full 20 years older than you, but you love it none the less.
He whistles and flags down the bartender. “Hey, can I get a dry martini for the young lady and… a beer for me, k’ay?”
The bartender nods and slides Billie a glass bottle while he prepares your drink. Billie cracks it open and takes a big gulp. He sighs, and rests his elbows on the bar behind him.
“So, I didn’t catch your name earlier?”
So he does remember me, you think.
“Kayla,” you answer.
He smiles. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, huh?” You blush and he takes another sip of his drink. “You from around here?”
You shake your head, trying your best to string together coherent sentences despite your drunken haze. “N-no, actually. I’m uh, from Denver… but my best friend who lives here invited me up for my birthday recently. And she got me tickets to see you guys!” You can hardly contain your excitement on that last part, feeling like a corny fan girl. By now, the bartender has slid you the drink, Billie throws down a fifty dollar bill.
He glances behind him. “Keep the change.”
He turns back to you and chuckles. “Oh, so you’re the birthday girl, huh? Well happy birthday. How old are ya turning?”
You look down, trying to think up an excuse. Shit, what did the birth date on my fake ID say?!
“Uhm, 21?” You lie through your teeth. Clearly unconvincing as Billie cocks his head to the side, unammused.
“Really?” His voice drops to a hushed whisper. “It’s alright, you can tell me the truth. I’m not gonna rat on you…” He places a hand on your thigh as he speaks. Your blood runs cold.
“I’m 18…” You admit.
He leans away, nodding. “Yeah, that makes more sense. That’s alright, I did shit like this was when I was your age, too.” He gestures with his beer to your drink and takes another sip. The way he speaks makes you feel like a dumb kid talking to your painfully out of touch ‘cool’ uncle. Eugh.
You frown at him. “I’m not a kid!” You squeal and roll your eyes.
He chuckles. “Didn’t say you were, baby… You’re pretty mature. I like that…”
You blush and glance to the floor. “Thank you…”
“So…” He clears his voice. “How long you been a fan for?”
You rub your arm sheepishly, head down, looking at your drink in your lap. “I dunno… since I was a kid, really. I grew up with your music kinda… but I became a huge fan when you released American Idiot. That album got me through middle school… and when my best friend left me for New York here…” All the vulnerable feelings in your heart gush out like an oil spill. You don’t even really know Billie, but you feel like you can trust him with anything. He’s kinda been your impromptu therapist for the past 6 or so years, has he not? At least his music has been…
He smiles. “I’m glad I could be there for you in that way. It’s always nice to hear a story like that from a fan…”
You know he doesn’t mean it like that, but it does come off a bit condescending. You huff, and awkwardly take another sip of your martini. The gin burns down your throat like battery acid.
It seems like he can sense your tension, because he scoots his stool closer a notch and pulls out a cigarette. “I don’t usually do this for a fan but… would you like to do something for me?”
Your head whips around, anxiously nodding. He smiles and hands you a lighter. “Could you?” His cigarette flicks between his lips as he talks. You set your drink down on the bar, grabbing the lighter, and lifting it up to his cigarette. The smoke catches immediately as you hand him back the lighter. He wraps 2 fingers around it and takes a puff, angling his lips away from your face as he exhales. “Thanks, baby.”
You nod silently, words caught in your throat.
He looks at you like he’s waiting for… something.
“You wanna try?” He finally asks.
You nod, thinking he’s just gonna put his cigarette in your mouth. The idea already making you wet.
But he does something so much better…
He puts his thumb on your lip, gently parting them as he puts his mouth on yours, expelling his smokey air into your mouth. You instinctively suck it in with a gasp, coughing a bit. He holds himself there for a second or two, and you think he’s gonna pull away, before he suctions his lips around yours. His tongue dances in your mouth, and you moan slightly at the touch. You reach your hand up to his hair. It’s slick with hair gel and sweat.
He pulls away, looking into your eyes. You can feel a bit of your mixed spit pooling at the corner of your mouth. He wipes it up with his thumb. “How was that?”
You nod very slowly. You can barely stutter out one word. “Ah… amazing…”
He giggles and scoots even closer, sitting on the edge of his seat as your knees brush together.
He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. His demeanor has changed suddenly. A lump forms in your throat.
“Do you look up to me?” he asks.
You nod. “O-of course I do. You’re, like, my idol… haha…”
He smiles at that. “You wanna make me happy then, right?” He wraps his hands around your waist as he says this.
“Of course, Billie…”
“Y’know, I don’t typically treat my fans to something so special, but…” His left hand slips from your waist to in between your thighs, but he doesn’t touch you further.
“You want a… special show of your own?” He laughs at his own words, but it feels like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest.
“You mean, like…?” Is he being serious right now?! You think.
Before he can answer, you happen to look down. His little friend answers for him.
“Mhm. Hey… eyes up here.” He snaps. His dominant behavior sends shivers through your spine. You practically wanna drool all over yourself at the sight of him.
“Like what you saw?” He wiggles his hips jokingly.
All you can do is nod, your mouth agape. He takes this as an opportunity to cradle your jaw. His thumb rubs slowly over your chin as it slink up into your mouth.
“Suck.”
You follow his word, your lips pressing lightly around his finger. His skin is warm and tastes salty, and like beer. He moves his thumb in and out of your mouth, head tilted back but his eyes peer down at you. A sick smile curls at the corners of his lips.
“You done this before?”
You shake your head slightly. It’s embarrassing to admit, at 18, but… you’re still a virgin. And you’ve heard it from everybody and their mom’s dog. “Oh my god, what?! Kayla, you’re still a virgin? You don’t have a boyfriend?! When are you gonna date!?” Yada yada… but you don’t have time for that! You have studying and friendships to worry about. College applications, too, etcetera. And of course; Green Day. You’ve spent so much time and money dedicated to this band. You hate to say it, ‘cause you find kids who say this corny, but…
They’ve really saved you.
And now look where you are. You and the lead singer of your favorite band(s), both drunk, with his finger in your mouth while he’s hitting on you. You could die right now and you’d be happy.
“Are you a virgin?”
He snaps you out of your daze. You can barely reply. All you mumble is an ‘mhm’.
“Oh?” He takes his finger away, leaving you a little sad. Then he bends down to your level.
“You want me to take that from you?”
You feel throbbing between your legs as you squeeze your thighs together.
Is this real? Am I dreaming? “Somebody pinch me!”
You don’t realize you said that part out loud until he pinches you on the arm. “You’re not dreaming, baby. Come with me.” He hops off his stool, leaving it spinning behind, but all you can do is sit there. Stunned. He takes a few steps forward before he looks behind at you, confused. “Cat got your tongue? C’mon!” He waves toward him, but realizes you aren’t gonna move.
He walks back over to you, slowly, tauntingly. He leans over you.
“You know I don’t do this for just anybody, right? You’re gonna have to keep up with me, baby girl.”
You gulp, staring at him like a dear in headlights, hands pressed nervously to your chest. He gently grabs your wrists and wraps them around his shoulders, lifting you up like it’s nothing. “I’ll help you out this time, alright?” He whispers in your ear. You nod, laying limp over his body. He peppers your neck with hungry kisses as he carries you quickly toward the restrooms, setting you down on your feet. He nabs an ‘out of order’ sign from a cleaning cart and hangs it on a hook outside the men’s bathroom as he peers his head in, checking to make sure nobody’s there.
“It’s all clear. After you,” he holds the door open for you like a gentleman.
You two barely walk into the restroom before he slams the door behind you. You jump and turn around.
“It’s just us, baby.”
You gulp nervously. The realization of what you’re doing suddenly hits you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you should leave, go find Nicki, wherever the fuck she is, but…
Oh, God.
He’s standing right over you, palms pressed against the brick wall behind you. Your knees bend weakly. There’s not enough air in this room—or in the world—for you to breathe right now.
“Shhh, pumpkin. It’s okay. I’ll walk you through it, alright?” He cradles your jaw as he pulls you into a deep kiss. You feel yourself relax at the sensation of his lips on yours. Mmm, you could get used to this. He tastes of beer and cigarettes, but you don’t mind. You would’ve done anything to know this taste sooner…
He interrupts your hungry makeout sesh—with your arms now wrapped around his shoulders and his leg between your thighs—with his fingers entering his own mouth. He licks them while holding steady eye contact, coating them in spit, sending a shiver up your body, too… and maybe some dampness to your underwear.
“You ready, hon?” he asks between gritting teeth, but he doesn’t really care for your reply. He’s gonna do it anyway and that’s what’s so hot about him… Billie Joe Armstrong does whatever the hell he wants when he wants.
You nod anyway, just for the sake of it, as he rubs his palm up your thigh, bunching your dress up on the way. He slides his spit-covered fingers past the band of your underwear, and you can feel him pressing them against your skin. Going lower and lower, until…
“Ahhh, Billie!” You yelp, biting into his shirt collar.
He grins. “Jesus, girl, you’re soaked already. You wanna fuck your idol that bad, hm?”
You nod, nails clawing into his shoulders as he curls his fingers just in the right way to hit your G-spot. Where did he get so good at this? I can’t even make myself shake like that…
“Fuck… I’m not even inside you yet and you feel so good… I could finger you all day…”
Yet? You think to yourself. Are we really going all the way?
But you can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s teasing your clit like that. Fuck. Your legs shake as precum drips down your thighs. All you can think about and feel is his touch. The sound of his heavy breathing in your ear.
“B-Billie… I’m close, mmmgh, shit!” You cling onto his neck, barely able to lift your head up to look in his eyes. All he does is smile sickly at you while his arm moves like a piston.
Your legs shake uncontrollably when he brings you to the edge. Your insides convulse like they’ve never before. No orgasm you’ve ever had has felt like this. You feel like God just breathed directly on you, every nerve in pure ecstasy.
“Did that feel good?” he whispers.
You scoff. What kind of question is that? Of course it did!
“I-I’ve never cum so hard before…” Is all you can muster up.
He smiles. “Good. Now, would you be a doll and suck me off?” He’s ‘asking’ but he knows you’ll never say no, as he pushed you roughly to your knees.
He undoes the buckle on his bright red pants, hurriedly unzipping the fly like he can’t hold on for another second. He slips his cock out through the hole in his boxers and you nearly gasp at his size.
Holy fuck…
He is massive. At least to your innocent eyes. That dick, the one you fantasized about ravaging you, fucking your brains out until you’re a stupid little mess, since you were just 14, right in front of you. And it’s better than you imagined.
All you can do in this moment, though, is stare at it. In utter disbelief.
“Well? C’mon, don’t be shy, baby girl… go ahead.” He urges, bucking his hips into your face to entice you. You take the tip in your mouth slowly, rubbing your tongue on the underside of it. His head throws back with a loud groan. “Yeahhh, oh, fuck… that’s it! Deeper baby, c’mon. I believe in you.”
The praise hits you like a bullet train. All you wanna do right now is please him. So, despite your inexperience, you try your best to take it all without gagging. It slides down into the back of your throat, inch by inch. Gliding with your spit and his precum like a slip N’ slide.
He groans when he bottoms out, content at how his cock is firmly shoved down your throat. Despite the tears in yours, he just smiles. In fact, it kinda makes him hornier.
“I’ll try to go slow at first, okay?” He reassures, but you have a feeling that’s not gonna last long.
He places his hands firmly on the sides of your head as he jerks you back and forth. You feel yourself suffocate at each thrust hitting the back of your throat, but you take it like a champ. The hot wetness of your mouth drives him crazy and, just as you expected, he starts picking up speed. Quickly.
“Oh, yes yes yes! SHIT!” He gets a tad too excited, and accidentally comes in your mouth, hot sperm painting the inside white.
The goo is warm and salty, a bit slimy the way it creeps down your throat. You’ve never seen cum in real life before, let alone tasted it. Only in porn on the rare occasion you’ve watch it, but you’d rather think about fucking Billie than watch boring old PornHub.
He pulls out, his thing still twitching.
“Oops… haha. Wait, damn. You look gorgeous like that. You have a cellphone on you? Don’t swallow yet.”
You nod, opening the clasp on your purse and pulling out your iPhone 3. You hand it to him, tongue still lolling out to display your mess.
He snaps a photo of you: On your knees in the Bowery’s men’s bathroom, tongue sticking out and covered in Billie Joe’s cum, making a dorky peace sign, of all hand gestures. The glistening mess on your own thighs shining perfectly in the dim lighting, caught by the glare of the camera flash.
“Perfect.” He smiles at your phone, and flips it around to show you.
Oh my god… look at me! You think to yourself. How could you let yourself come to this?! But does it really matter now? The lust in your heart burns like a fire too far spread to put out now.
He slips your phone into his back pocket. A jolt of panic runs through you, but you try not to worry.
“I know I already came, baby, but… I haven’t even really fucked you yet, have I? Why don’t you help me out…” He wiggles his half limp cock in his hand, insinuating what he wants.
You go to reach for it, but he shakes his head. “Mm mm. Stand up and turn around.”
You look at him, confused, but oblige none the less. You stand and brace your palms against the cold scratchy brick walls, glancing over your shoulder to see what he’s doing. He squats down and starts teasing you. Putting the band of your slightly skimpy panties in his teeth and tugging it around. Slipping a thumb under the other side as he leads them down your slender legs. You moan just at the sight, feeling the space between your thighs start tingling all over again.
“Here, step out of them.” You do as your told, and he dangles the pair in your face. “Bold choice of underwear, huh? You were just dying for this to happen, weren’t you?” He kids with you, but deep down…maybe you were? “Wouldn’t you know… they’re wet, too. Ha…”
He balls them up in his hand. “Here, hold these for me,” he says, shoving them in your mouth. You whimper through the fabric, the sweet smell of your arousal tipping your senses into overdrive.
He steps back, taking in the sight of you; dress ruffled up, panties in your own mouth, cum dripping down your legs, pleading for him silently with your fuck-me-eyes.
“Jesus… what a fucking view. Hotter than any porno or magazine… hold on.”
He takes another picture of you with your phone, staring at it with a sadistic smile on his face.
“I could jack off to these all night long, baby-doll…” Your heart flutters at the admittedly embarrassing praise. You’re getting impatient with him taking his sweet time. You want his cock and you want it now. You wiggle your hips slightly, letting out a soft whine.
He glances up from your photo. “Hm?”
You repeat the motion, desperate for him to notice you.
His cock twitches to life again at the sight of your needy begging. “Somebody’s hungry… damn.” He walks up behind you, rubbing his shaft while teasing you with his tip grazing your skin.
“Is this what the birthday girl wants? Her dream gift? Her idol’s cock and cum, huh?”
You groan, trying to thrust your hips into him but he pulls away. “Nuh uh. C’mon. Lemme savor this, wont’cha?” You sigh through the cloth in your mouth. He smiles at your submission, rewarding you by rubbing his tip right over your clit. You squeal and tremble. You wanna rip this damn ‘gag’ out of your mouth and beg him for it right then and there. So, you do, kind of.
He notices your rampant protests and pulls the panties from your mouth. “What is it, baby?”
You rock your hips in front of him. “Fuck me, Billie, please. I’ll do fucking anything, just put it in me. I can’t take it anymore, ugh!” You rub yourself against his shaft, trying desperately to entice him.
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? For a virgin, you’re a fucking slut. You know that, right? Just groupie scum…” The mix of praise and degradation fucks with your head big time. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, but you do know you want to ride him till you’re both kicked out of this fucking venue.
You thrust into him right as he bucks into you, maxing out his length. You let out a loud yelp, mouth falling open.
“Holy shit, you feel even better than I could have imagined. I love taking the first time of horny groupie sluts like you.” He pauses with a gasp, trying not to blow his load immediately. Oh, yeah. You forgot about condoms. Oh, well! You’ll gladly fuck him raw even if you risk getting knocked up. Actually, who wouldn’t want his babies?!
You squirm around. “M-move, please!” Between being regular drunk and dick drunk, all shame has left your body. You’ll do every last degrading thing you must to get your perverted, carnal needs satisfied by him.
He grips onto your ass, leaving crescent-shaped indentations from his nails in your plush skin as he slowly pulls out at an agonizing pace, before ramming back into you with full-force. Shoving you into the wall. Leaving you gasping for air.
He twirls a few locks of your pretty curly brown hair around his fingers as he tugs your head back to look at him. “Did you get what you wanted, princess?” His words are sweet but his tone is so demeaning. It makes you so wet. You nod, aching for him to slam into you again and again until you can’t stand.
He fucks you, slow but rough strokes that dare to carve your insides out. You moan like a beast with each one. Is this what sex really feels like?! Damn, have I been missing out!
His trusting gets faster and faster. You bop back and forth with the movements of his hips. The slapping sounds of skin on skin echoing throughout the empty men’s room. You can feel wetness trickle down your thighs, stickying them almost like glue. His movements become more erratic, his dick throbbing inside you just like how your walls throb around him.
He speaks between desperate breaths. “W-where do you want it?”
“Inside!” You beg. You don’t know what’s come over you. A demon? Possession? Fuck, are you ovulating?! You haven’t a clue… all you can focus on, the only thought in the forefront of your mind:
You need to get cream pied by him.
His head dips down, sweat drips from his brow. His own moans are like music to your ears. He grunts and humps you like an animal, almost like he has one goal in mind; to get you pregnant. And with the way you move? You’re practically daring him to.
“O-oh, fuckkk… that’s it. Baby, I’m gonna cum. You want it inside, huh? Lemme guess, this is what you wanted from me all along? Of course it is…” You nod along, whatever he says if it means you’ll get filled like a fucking pastry.
“Fuck!” He shouts. His hips stutter and jolt. You feel his member throb like a pulse inside you, assuming he came, but you don’t feel your sticky reward until he pulls out and it drips slowly out of your hole.
“Gotta love the sight of a cum slut groupie getting filled. Bonus points when she’s a virgin.” He laughs at his ‘accomplishment’, meanwhile your head is fuzzy and fogged up. His cocky demeanor softens a bit as he tucks himself back into place and zips up. “You want me to clean you up—?”
You wave him off. “Nuh uh… leave it. My trophy.”
He laughs. “Out of all the girls I’ve fucked on tour, you might just be the best one yet.” How many other girls has he fucked? Well, at least I’m special…
He runs a hand through his hair. “Oh, wow, where are my manners? A devoted fan just gave me such a show of my own and I haven’t even asked her if she wants a proper picture together. Whadda ya say?”
“S-sure…” is all you can stutter. Is he gonna take a picture of me like this? I hope so…
He pulls your cellphone from his back pocket and leans over you, pointing the camera down over you two. He swipes a bit of cum from your leaking pussy and lets it stretch between his fingers. “Stick your tongue out.”
You do, posing so it’s just inches from the souvenir on his fingertips. “Say cheese!” He snaps the photo. His head resting over your shoulder with such a cocky grin. He wipes his messy fingers on your drooling tongue.
He steps away before handing you your phone back. “One last thing.” He starts typing something on the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” You question, turning away and readjusting your clothes.
“Texting… myself those pictures. Now you have my number. Gotta have something to jack off to when I get to my hotel. I’m not just gonna let you keep these pretty things to yourself, y’know…” He hands you back your phone and giggles at the flabbergasted expression on your face. He shoots you a wink.
“Oh, and… I’m gonna keep these, too. Y’know… as a souvenir.” He dangles your skimpy panties in your face, then tucks them back into his pocket.
“Thanks for the support, babe. We really appreciate loyal fans like you.” He snickers as he goes to open the door, but right as he reaches for the handle, you both hear a loud pounding on it. “Billie?! Are you in there?! You better not be jacking off!” It sounds like Mike bellering through the heavy metal door.
Billie turns back to shush you. “Sneak in one of the stalls. You can come out in a minute,” he whispers. You listen to his suggestion and dip into one of the stalls.
“Hey, Mike! Sorry man, nah. Just had an upset stomach is all…” his voice trails off and for once since this crazy night began, you are left in silence. Left alone with your thoughts.
You rub your shoulders, the cool draft in this room more apparent than ever, as you feel his sticky cum leak slowly down your thighs without underwear to catch it. The weight of what you just did has settled in. You will never be able to look at your favorite band the same again. Fantasies are one thing… The real deal is so much different. A make it or break it kinda thing. And you’re not sure which one you just did.
Maybe they’re right? ‘Never meet your heroes.’
You clean yourself up and walk out of the bathroom. As you look up, someone startles you. Your best friend, Nicole—who disappeared ages ago—now standing right in your face, her piercing blue eyes driving daggers into you.
“Kayla! Where the fuck have you been?!” She screeches. You could say the same to her, but you just shrug and look down. There is no way in hell you can tell her what just happened.
She scans your face while pouting, until her own expression shifts into one of realization. “No… wait! Did you just…?”
You nod absentmindedly, before realizing what this implies. Fuck, now I’m gonna have to make up an excuse or a story…
But Nicki doesn’t ask anything. She just pulls you into the tightest hug she’s ever given you.
“Eek! I’m so proud of you, Kayla! My bestie, finally breaking the prude reputation. This calls for drinks!”
But you shake your head. “I’m good, Nicki. I already had a lot to drink, haha… I’d like to remember this night at least a little bit.”
She frowns but nods understandingly. “That’s okay. Why don’t I treat you to a mocktail then? It’s on me!”
You shrug in agreement and head over to the bar with her.
You two sit down. Nicole orders an alcoholic beverage while you order a mocktail pina colada. It’s sweet and tropical, maybe a little too sweet for the pounding headache that’s forming in your mind now.
“So,” Nicki begins. “You’ll never guess who I met!”
“Who?” You ask flatly. Entirely forgetting why you’re even here tonight. Your mind like the empty buzz of a refrigerator motor.
“Billie Joe, duh!” She jabs you in the arm. Your eyes go as wide as saucers. Did they meet right outside the bathroom?!
“Here here here, look! He took a picture with me!”
She excitedly shows you her phone. A selfie of her and Billie posing in the hall leading toward the restrooms. You can see your lacy underwear peaking out of the corner of his pocket. You gulp, mouth drier than a desert and your tongue cramping up. You know you should be happy for her. Hell, you just got something even better than one lousy selfie, but your mind can’t think of anything else but your escapade in the bathroom. And that she has no idea. His touch, taste, scent… ugh.
She whistles and waves a hand in your face. “Yoo-hoo! Earth to Kayla? What’s up with you tonight?!”
You realize you’re staring at her dumbfounded. You shake your head to snap out of it. “Guh? Oh… sorry, Nicki… it’s just been a long night.”
She frowns but nods sympathetically. “Was the dick that bad? Yeah, your first time will never be your best, but hey, you’ll have plenty more fun times. To us!” She raises her drink in the air.
“To us…” you mumble in response, barely lifting your drink up off the counter.
Yeah, quite the opposite actually. You don’t know if you’ll ever have sex that good ever again. For now, the past hour replays in your mind ad nauseam, but maybe this’ll all be one hell of a funny story in another couple years… decades, to come…