"If you getcha one girl, better get two
Case you run into Gypsy Lou
She's a ramblin' woman with a ramblin' mind
Always leavin' somebody behind"
~Bob Dylan~
Manic hysteria is oozing out of the Forum tonight. I know it's the groovy British invasion of The Skiffles and all but my mind keeps wandering to what's going to happen after the gig with my men.
It's hard to see past the blinding stage lights into the mainly mod wanabee 14-year-old girl audience. Do they even care that they can't hear a note, a beat, a syllable for fuck's sake? The constant screaming of the Skiffle-fanatics drowns out any other attempt at anything resembling noise.
The other go-go dancer and I have our moves in check. Oh, yea, no one can say that we miss a beat.
The outfits Penelope and I are wearing were personally hand picked by the man himself, Rod, lead guitarist for the band. Tight short little t-shirts with the band's logo jutting out from our jiggly titties, tiny, tiny mini-skirts hugging our swinging hips and just barely reaching past the tops of our thighs, and of course our shiny white leather go-go boots. Mine are the coolest pair by far - the only pair with tassels I have ever seen!
We are dancing atop this immense stage prop while the group blasts out their songs. The prop is built to spell out the letters: T.H.E. S.K.I.F.F.L.E.S. I am doing the shimmy somewhere between the "K" and the "I" now.
Penelope is doing a groovy version of the monkey while The Skiffles are going through their unbelievably gear numbers. My straight long blonde hair flies through the air to the rhythm of our latest, hippest moves while my arms are thrashing wildly up and down to the fab beat.
This unbearable claustrophobic air though is making my mini skirt cling to my ass and I am thinking that maybe I should have worn panties after all.
I love watching them, watching my men, my four Skiffles. There's Rod on lead guitar, Stu on rhythm guitar, Keith on bass and of course my darling Fingers on drums as he shakes his head back and forth to the wild beat. Their shiny beautiful, long hair is what all the Skiffle-fanatics constantly rave about and it's no wonder 'cause their hair's rockin' too! Oh, fuck, do I love them - all four. I would do them any time anywhere any day anyhow. They can fuck my mouth, fuck my cunt, fuck my ass, cum all over my tits, my face, wherever they want. I love being the groupie slut for the The Skiffles.
"Psssst, Isabella," whispers Rod with a wink. "Are you keeping that sweet little cunt hot for us now baby?"
"Yes darling of course," I giggle. Rod looks so unbelievably cute tonight. He is so fucking cool I don't think I can stand it for another minute. He signals me now.
This has become quite the habit for us on this tour. During each gig, I suck off one of The Skiffles on stage while they are still playing. The audience can't tell. It is such an incredible turn on for all of us and the band swears it improves their playing!
With the final chords of "Maybe It's You" wailing from Rod's guitar he casually strolls over behind the huge prop while still grooving to the beat.
"Sha na na na na na..." The Skiffles are harmonizing now. It is my cue to jump down unashamedly offering the audience a quick flash of my silken smooth pussy.
I am now kneeling before Rod out of view of the screaming Skiffle-fanatics, yet they can still see him from the waist up. That is how Rod planned it when he thought of The Skiffles lettering prop. What a sly little devil he is at that!
The stage floor feels hard and rough on my bare knees but I don't care. I know I am going to suck his cock. Oh God, he is making me horny. While his fingers are strumming those strings, he gently moves his guitar away from his body to allow just barely enough room for his blonde slut to squeeze in.