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Happy New Year from Acapella Road |
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By Margo Perry
“Seen Molly?”
“No. She wasn’t in the washroom.”
I’d just seen her in the lobby, sucking face with Michael Flood, flaunting her most egregious infidelity. So, I’m lying for her again and I hate it.
Our two soldiers, Johnny and Jay part and I squeeze between them. The balcony is crammed with bodies waiting for the first group to take to the stage and start the concert.
Molly arranged this foursome but, when Michael finally called this morning she told him that she’d see him here. I don’t know what she was thinking.
She took up with Michael about a month after Johnny left. He’s the Mayor’s son, a handsome, service-avoiding dimwit whose peanut sized brain stumbles around his vacant lot of a head every time he dares to think.
We used to say we were the only two girls in the town he hadn’t fucked. Now, I’m the only one.
I notice the worried glance that passes between these two gorgeous, but naïve men, and I hate that they care so much about her. If only they knew!
These guys are gentlemen nerds of the first order. They’d been in a race for Molly’s attention since elementary school, but by high school, Johnny had won. No wonder, she’s pretty as a picture.
I, on the other hand, am overweight with two assets: A well maintained brain and humongous tits. They delivered Bradley, a bright pimply boy who fucked me and dumped me when he saw just how much I liked it and him. It wasn’t love, I just thought it was, and I’ve been, not heart broken, but lonely and horny ever since.
To say I have a crush on Johnny is an understatement. I’ve had a crush on Johnny and Jay ever since we were in science club together. While Molly was kicking up her legs on the field, we were in the lab conducting smoke bomb experiments and comparing the effects of caffeine and cheap wine on our abilities to concentrate and perform IQ tests.
When Molly isn’t around, I wonder what they see in her. When she is around, I turn multicoloured with envy.
“There’s Molly.”
Jay’s body bounces against mine, as he leans forward to point down at the crowd. Just then, the lights start to dim and the first acapella group files onto the stage.
“Where?”
Johnny has placed hands on either side of me. I feel such a rush. My pussy is pulsing. Excitement has raised the tenor of Johnny’s voice, as his anxious eyes scan for Molly dearest. He has no awareness of what his closeness is doing to me. I shift slightly, accidently pressing my breast against his arm. He starts to move away, but won’t give up his vantage point. I press my ass back into him, against a stirring hard-on. His body is betraying him. I feel crazy pleasure and my nipples grow long.
“I see her.”
Johnny’s voice is flat. Molly is easy to pinpoint, with her new snow white hair. Michael is leading her to the front row, his hand carelessly slung over her shoulders. The lights are almost down when they sit and kiss.
“Oh fuck,” Jay says. The pain that he’s causing Johnny hoarsens his own voice and adds weight to the unspoken horrors they’ve imported from war zones, the sights and sounds of terrors that crouch under their medals, just inside their chests, threatening to explode; memories they don’t share, except with each other. “Sorry, man.”
I’m appalled. I feel their hurt. I feel helpless.
The first up is a girl’s group. They do a fantastic Motown medley. The girl laying down the vocal percussion track is awesome. Doo-Wop pops.
More people have joined the standing peanut gallery. I feel an unbearable distance between me and Johnny and Jay, as physically close as we are. Since Iraq, they’ll suddenly getaway to a place that I can’t access. It trances their eyes and stiffens their bodies.
A gospel group has taken the stage, but I can’t concentrate. Molly has really hurt Johnny. Vets deserve more than the Molly’s of this world, more from all of us.
I volunteer at a Wounded Warrior’s Centre. Many vets like me to read short war stories and erotica. Those familiar worlds bring them comfort and I’ve persuaded local businesses to contribute Kindles.
I’m wearing an outfit that Molly picked out for tonight. It’s a strapless number and my tits feel like they’re about to heave out of it. The skirt is so short that I can almost feel the air cooling my hot pussy.
My pussy is always hot when I’m around Johnny and Jay. They look like brothers. Both are tall and dark haired; both full lipped and soft voiced; both strong from the inside out; both material for my frequent masturbatory flights into sexual madness.
I can’t catch my breath.
Onstage, the main feature, a group of a dozen or more has turned the room wild with their Michael Jackson hits. They sound like they have a full orchestra backing them and are excellent dancers as well as singers. They’re the group people have come to hear and see and they’re smoking hot.
Johnny and Jay have turned to stone behind me. I recognize the state and know that they’re not seeing or hearing much. I can’t stand it. I need to do something.
I twist around and tug at my dress. I feel four eyes on my breasts and hear Jay catch his breath. I smile a whore’s smile that lets them know that the change of mood is my design. I feel a power I’ve never felt before. It’s reckless and Molly-less. I smooth my lips slowly with my tongue before turning back. I feel we’re alone in the crowd.
She told me her name was Billie Jean
More screams and I feel like the place is too possessed to notice me, pressing myself into Johnny’s crotch. My ass is dancing against his growing hard-on. I can feel Jay’s breath on my neck, warm and irregular. Johnny backs off red faced, I’m sure, as his huge cock responds to my demands. I reach behind and pull him back into me with both hands.
My pussy is hot and wet and hungry.
But she came and stood right by me then the smell of sweet perfume
Jay’s cock is touching my leg and Johnny’s is against the cheek of my ass. Horniness eclipses reason. I glance around us. Nobody’s looking and I feel protected enough to reach under my skirt and bend down just enough to pull down and step out of my panties. I make sure that the boys see me stuffing them into the purse hanging over my bare shoulder.
I can smell my pussy juice. I think they can, too.
I feel hot lips on my shoulder, a tongue in my ear, and a whisper.
“Are you sure?”
The voice is too husky to differentiate.
I stand on one leg, reach back with the other and rub my foot up and down the available calf, I don’t know whose.
Johnny’s hand crawls up my thigh. His finger engages my slippery clit. I moan involuntarily into the screeching Michael madness. Two fingers slip into me. I want his cock inside me.
I lean over the rail and lift my ass to make my pussy more available. Under my billowing skirt, his cock nudges me, plays at the entrance, hard flesh against hot melting flesh.
Finally.
He inches in slowly, painfully slowly. I squeeze muscle against muscle. I grind back, then ease forward. I infuriate his need to go slow.
The room is a blur of people who don’t know that I’m being fucked. Fucked hard. He’s speeding up now and I can hardly stand my pleasure.
The room goes wild with applause as he comes and comes and comes inside me. I hear his moan mix with my own. I’m in heaven, as he wraps his arms around me and holds me close.
He’s withdrawing and I miss him already.
Because I'm Bad, I'm Bad- “Please.”
“Please.” The voice is plaintiff.
The duet is a trio. I spread my legs again and the other sweet cock plunges into me, too hungry to be coy. This one slimmer and longer; this one too crazed to go slow. I feel a hand cover my breast. Squeezing. Scratching my nipple. This snake of a cock is plunging and circling, stabbing and plunging and owning. This one is desperate. This one has been a long time coming and coming and coming.
A strong arm encircles me as the other cock finally withdraws. A handkerchief is placed in my hand.
Ben, the two of us need
look no more
A silence has filled the room. The group is standing perfectly still, commanding the attention of everyone in the room, their harmonies perfect, their calm loving, the moment inspired.
I wipe myself discreetly. The boys have zipped up.
“Happy New Year from Acapella Road!”
“Happy New Year,” the audience roars back, waving and stomping.
And then it’s over. The standing ovation feels like it’s just for us.
“Let’s go beat the crowd.”
We leave the theatre and head for Jay’s car, two arms around my waist, three faces glad and grateful and full of promise.
“What about Molly?” I say.
“Molly who?” Johnny says.
We all sit in the front seat.
“Let’s go to my place,” Jay says, “Johnny and I need to make sweet love to you.”
“Yes indeed, beautiful woman,” Johnny says.
We drive off, my head resting on Johnny’s shoulder, my hand stroking Jay’s thigh, my heart pounding with anticipation.
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