Author's note: This is a spinoff from the completed series called 'Gorilla and the Metalhead', focusing largely on two minor characters from the latter part of the tale. Carlos, one of the two main characters in that story, will feature as a minor character in this narrative. Some of the details in this first chapter reference events that took place in the final few chapters of 'Gorilla', but it's also intended to be read as a separate story.
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OK, so just in case you've never heard of them before, let me tell you all about Boipussy.
Boipussy are a five-piece heavy metal band from Miami. They're trying to break into the music business and make it big. They've been playing live for about a year and a half, and while they've stirred up some interest in Florida and some other nearby states, they're still waiting and hoping for that big break. They recorded some demos a few months back, but the engineer was a total fucking douche who didn't know the first thing about capturing the energy and intensity of a metal band. When they eventually heard the final mix, they were pissed. They were so shitted off with the quality of the recording that they threw the CDs away into a river like they were frisbees. The original plan had been to send copies to local radio stations and record labels, hoping to drum up some interest in their sound, but these discs weren't even useful as drink coasters. They'd find a better place to record next time.
Ace, Boipussy's lead singer, is hot as fuck. Long blonde hair and shining blue eyes, the merest hint of stubble on his chin, a denim jacket worn over the top of a skin-tight black t-shirt that make his pierced nipples poke out, and tight denim jeans that have the exact same effect on his groin. His gimmick is to play every gig with a buttplug jammed up his boipussy -- that's how they got the name for their band. At each show, before launching into their last song of their set, Ace unbuckles his jeans, pulls them down, and shows off the thick piece of plastic wedged deep inside his sweaty cornhole. Sometimes, before launching into their final tune of the night, he extracts the plug and gives it a deep suck.
They've been on the road for a few nights. This morning, Ace is feeling a little hungover from one too many beers after last night's show. He's texting Pete, who plays drums in a four-piece metal outfit from Atlanta called Ass To Mouth. Their band logo is 'A2M', drawn like a medieval coat of arms, where the four quadrants of the shield depict a big dick, a puckered anus, a wet mouth, and ... some tadpoles.
Pete is cute as hell. Shoulder length red hair, an insanely kissable pouty mouth, the most beautiful constellation of freckles known to man strewn across his nose and cheeks, and a long, fat, wet tongue that would drive most men to ecstatic death. Pete was, without a doubt, the best cocksucker in the local metal scene.
Despite his insane oral skills, Pete's been single for a long time. His band plays regularly at a place called Eternal, a venue in Atlanta that caters to headbangers, goths, punks, rivetheads and the like. He's had the biggest crush since like forever on his band's own lead singer, Carlos, a sexy long-haired Mexican dude who often performs wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off jeans and a pair of tall leather boots. Perched upon his drum riser, Pete has the best view in the house as Carlos's ass bucks and sways in time with the music.
Everyone told Pete how good he was at sucking dick, but he could never work out why he couldn't land a steady boyfriend of his own. He knew he wasn't ugly, so was he just incredibly unlucky? Was he just a convenient mouth and tongue? Was he always the wrong dude in the wrong place, at the wrong time, sucking the wrong cock?
Everything in his life seemed to change the night he met Ace. A few weeks ago, Boipussy and Ass To Mouth had played a double bill at Eternal, and after the show, Pete and Ace chatted about music in the dressing room. After a while, they locked eyes, and Ace leaned forward to kiss Pete's cheek. "I like you," he said. Pete responded, and as Ace felt Pete's eager tongue swirling around in his mouth, shockwaves travelled down his spine to his cock. Their kiss ended, and a thin rope of saliva connected their lips. "I think you're cute," Ace whispered.
Later that night, Pete invited Ace and Carlos back to his apartment for some beers. Pete's long-term crush on Carlos evaporated that night. After Carlos left for the evening, Pete and Ace showered together. They fucked under the warm water, then after they dried off, they went to bed and fucked some more until dawn. Then, after waking up in each other's arms, Ace sucked Pete's dick and jerked him off onto his face. Pete couldn't remember the last time he woke up next to a warm body in his own bed, and he would've sworn he'd never had a good-morning blowjob from anyone before.
After Ace cleaned himself up and got dressed, he was back on the road, heading to Boipussy's next gig. Pete was already falling for Ace after a single evening, but he worried that Ace might be a roadslut who said and did the right things in the moment, but then moved onto the next town in search of a fresh conquest. Pete had been single for far too long, and he didn't want to get ahead of himself, but he and Ace had been talking and texting so regularly over the past few weeks that Pete's initial worries began to recede. But even so, it's hard to feel confident when you've only known the other person for a couple of weeks, and you've spent most of that time in different states.
You know that feeling when you meet someone new? You can't get enough of them, and you think about them constantly when they're not around? Pete missed Ace terribly. He was a sensible kind of guy, and he didn't believe in love at first sight, but on the other hand, he'd been single for a very long time. He was already head over heels, but at the same time, he was expecting to have his heart broken before too long.
A2M had temporarily halted their touring plans while Carlos tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. He was still trying to process the unexpected and untimely death of Gorilla, his boyfriend. Gorilla was an interstate truck driver who died in a massive road accident just a few short weeks ago. His rig smashed into the side of an interstate freight train at full speed. Carlos still didn't know what happened that day to cause the accident, and perhaps he'd never know, but the horrific images from that night's news bulletin would be etched onto his brain forever.
Carlos hired a car and drove up to Delaware to find Gorilla's grave. He wanted to talk with him one last time. And in the relentless, driving rain, he left his precious guitar at his graveside as a tribute.
Carlos was in no headspace to perform right now, and some days it was enough of a struggle for him just to get out of bed. He was living through nights of dark black sleep, and most mornings, the first thing he felt upon waking was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he returned to consciousness and remembered who he'd lost.
Boipussy were out on the road, and it was 11am on a Tuesday morning when Ace picked up his phone to message Pete. By night, Pete was the metal drummer from hell, but in daylight hours, he studied law. Today, he was in the office as part of his internship. He was studying a piece of legal research that was boring him to tears. He heard his phone vibrate and instantly accepted the distraction.
Ace: fuck man im so hungover after last night
Pete: good show?
Ace: yeah man ... only thing missing was u
Pete: i know what u need
Ace: whats that
Pete looked around the office to make sure nobody was watching him. He held his phone up to his mouth, flopped out his fat tongue, and took a pic. He sent it to Ace, his tongue hanging out as if desperate to be drenched in seed.
Ace: fuck u read my mind ... hey, we're playing in atlanta soon, u busy?
Pete: ill have to check my calendar
Ace: ill put you on the door, you can be my special VIP access all areas ... and i *do* mean all areas :p
Pete: oww youre twisting my arm!! :) cant wait to c u again dude
Ace sent a red heart emoji, and Pete responded with one of his own.
Ace: gonna try to go back to sleep, dude -- i feel like shit -- we need to be back on the road by 2 so i wanna get a lil more shuteye
Pete: drink some water
Pete tried to turn his mind back to his legal research, but it was always difficult to refocus after a text conversation with Ace. He stared out the window, daydreaming. His supervisor walked past his desk, noticing Pete's current lack of interest in the work piled up on his desk.
Pete left the office at lunch, catching the elevator down to the lobby. He'd planned to go for a walk to suck in some fresh air and to clear his mind, but it was raining, and he wasn't in the mood for getting wet or cowering under an umbrella. He grabbed a pre-made salad sandwich from the nearest coffee shop and returned to his desk, and with the bravest of wills, made it through until 5 o'clock.
After leaving the office, he grabbed some dinner in town before heading home. He texted Ace.
Pete: hows ur hangover
