A gay sex stories: The Adventures of Boipussy Pt. 01 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.
*
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
Ace: made it to the venue, had a beer or 2, and we’re ready to rock!
Pete: is ur buttplug in?
Ace: not yet, i always get a little nervous before we take the stage, so ill probably take a quick dump soon
Pete: TMI
Ace:?
Pete: too much information
Ace: haha sorry about that … anyway gotta go, gonna msg you after we’re done
Pete wished he was there, front row centre, watching Ace rock the house. He didn’t expect to hear from him for another couple of hours, but unexpectedly, he received another message. He opened it, and watched as Ace slid his buttplug into his boipussy.
Pete couldn’t help himself. He unbuckled his pants, jerked himself off, and came everywhere.
*
Friday morning rolled around. Pete didn’t go to the office on Fridays because he had law classes at college. As lunchtime approached, his phone pinged with a message from Carlos.
Carlos: hey dude
Pete: hey, how you feeling?
Carlos: feels like im gonna feel sad forever … each day is better than the last, i guess, but not by much
Pete: you want some company? come to the campus, let’s have lunch together
Carlos: yes!
They met half past twelve and hugged forever. They ordered some food and grabbed a coffee each before finding a table.
Pete knew lunch today wasn’t about calories, it was about conversation and connection. “How are you holding up?” Pete asked.
“Fuck, man, I don’t know … yeah … I guess I’m OK,” Carlos replied. He didn’t want to say that some days the pain of Gorilla’s passing hurt so much he wished he was dead too, just to make the agony stop. He told Pete that he drove up to Gorilla’s grave recently and left him his guitar.
“That’s a really special gesture, man,” said Pete. His heart was breaking for Carlos’s loss.
“I loved him, Pete. I should’ve told him. He was my best friend. And now it’s too late.” Carlos didn’t shed fresh tears, he’d already shed enough. His eyes were dry, but the pain and sadness of his recent loss was still written all over his face. Carlos changed the conversation. “How’s Ace? You two still keeping in touch? Are Boipussy still out on the road?”
Pete’s mood brightened a little, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards. “Yeah, man. We talk and text every single day. Boipussy played Daytona Beach a couple of nights ago to a bunch of fratboys. I bet he’s got some stories from that show! He mentioned last night that they’ll be back in Atlanta soon. I should check their website to find out when.”
“I already checked,” Carlos answered. Pete had forgotten that Carlos worked at Eternal. “They’re playing on Sunday night.”
“Awesome!” As if on cue, Pete’s phone pinged. It was a message from Ace.
Ace: u busy tonite, sexy georgia boi? can i take u out on a hot date?
Carlos noticed Pete’s face explode into a wide grin as his fingers danced across the screen of his phone.
Pete: u comin to atlanta?
Ace: im at the airport right now, so as long as the flight’s on time i’ll be there in a few hours
They made plans. Ace had been to Pete’s apartment before, but just to be sure, Pete texted his address.
Carlos’s life was a fucking misery right now. His soulmate had died unexpectedly, and the fact he’d posthumously given him his guitar meant A2M couldn’t perform or rehearse for the foreseeable future. He’d need to buy a new axe first. But at least he had a good job at Eternal with friendly, supportive people who understood what he was going through. Yet at the same time, he was genuinely happy for Pete, who seemed to have finally found someone.
They finished lunch, and they hugged again before departing. Carlos planned to spend a few hours wandering around the city before starting his evening shift at Eternal. Pete went back to class.
*
Pete was on his way home from campus when his phone pinged.
Ace: hey dude ive just landed in atl c u soon
This was gonna be the best weekend ever. Pete arrived at his building, rode the elevator and opened his apartment door. His tutorial work which was due for next week could go to hell and die in a garbage fire. He frantically tidied up the living area, but the kitchen was a mess: the sinkful of unwashed dishes would have to wait.
The intercom buzzed. “It’s the FBI, the building’s surrounded!” joked Ace. “Open the fuck up!”
Pete laughed. “I surrender! Come up to level 8 and cuff me.” He pressed the button that opened the building’s front door and granted elevator access to a guest.
A moment later, Pete heard a quiet knock at the door. There, standing on the doormat, was Ace.
“Come in,” said Pete. His heart was pounding.
Ace stepped inside and hugged him. “I missed you,” he whispered. Their hug turned into a wet, steamy kiss, and within moments, their clothes were a disorganised pile of cotton and denim in a corner of Pete’s living room.
Pete led Ace to his bedroom. They got under Pete’s comforter and kissed, but their kissing raised the temperature of the room, and the comforter soon found itself kicked off the bed, discarded on the floor.
With the bedclothes crisis now successfully dealt with, they wrapped their arms around each other again. Pete didn’t know why Ace had come to Atlanta so soon if their gig wasn’t until Sunday night. “I’m so glad you’re here, Ace,” he wept. He’d spent so much mental energy lately worrying about Carlos that he’d begun to forget his own needs and desires. He felt deliriously happy right now.
“I’m glad I’m here too,” Ace replied. He looked around. “This room feels familiar in some way. Have I been here before?” he joked.
Pete grinned. He grabbed the back of Ace’s neck and urgently pulled his face towards his own. His tongue probed the depths of Ace’s mouth.
‘Don’t say it,’ Pete told himself. ‘Don’t tell him. I know you want to, but just don’t. Don’t say the word. Don’t tell him that you think you love him. It’s way too soon, and you’ll only confuse him and scare him off.’
Ace broke the kiss and gazed deep into Pete’s eyes, stroking his cheek. They hadn’t been in each other’s physical presence for a few weeks, but Pete had never been far from Ace’s mind. “I need to tell you something.”
Pete waited.
“I think … I think I love you, Pete.”
Pete gasped. His resistance exploded into dust. “I think I love you too, Ace.”
They kissed again, but slowly, and much more tenderly. They each knew where they stood with each other, and in this moment, it felt like only two people existed in the world.
That is, until someone in a neighbouring apartment set a smoke detector off, which triggered the building evacuation system. The ‘alert’ tone blared from Pete’s ceiling. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” he said, shaking his head. “We need to get dressed.”
“But what if it’s just a false alarm?”
“It probably is,” Pete replied, “but the firemen won’t get from the station to the panel in three minutes, and it’ll flip over to the ‘evacuate’ tone automatically. It always happens that way.”
They sorted out their clothes, got dressed, and headed down to the street. Ace didn’t bother putting his shoes back on, choosing to casually pad down to ground floor with bare feet. They stood and waited, not hugging but still touching, just close enough to feel each other’s presence. Pete casually nodded towards some of his building acquaintances. The fire engine turned up, and yep, it turned out to be a false alarm.
The officials gave the residents the all-clear. People began filing back inside, but the lobby was quickly crowded. Eventually, Ace and Pete squeezed their way into an elevator. They were crammed up against each other like sardines. Neither of them complained.
“Where were we,” Ace asked loudly as the jam-packed elevator rose, “before we got so rudely interrupted?”
“I can’t be certain, but I think you and I were just about to fuck,” Pete responded.
Everyone else in the elevator stopped talking. The silence was deafening.
“Mmm,” replied Ace. “Hot gay sex. Fuck yeah. I’m always eager for some of that.”
An elderly god-fearing conservative in the opposite corner of the elevator would’ve fainted, if only there was enough room to fall over. “Well, I never,” she declared.
“Well, maybe you should’ve,” Ace glared. “Fucking ugly bitch,” he muttered under his breath as the doors opened on level 8. Pete and Ace squeezed their way out into the corridor before the elevator continued its steady rise.
Pete opened his apartment door and closed it behind them. This time, they undressed slowly. “Don’t burn any fucking toast, Pete,” Ace joked. “I don’t wanna have to live through that again.”
Pete smiled. “Come here, sexy.” He ran his fingertips through Ace’s long, blonde hair. Their fingers entwined, closely followed by their tongues. “Come back to bed with me.”
They lay down on the bed, side by side. Ace retrieved Pete’s comforter from the foot of the bed and dragged it up across their naked bodies. It formed a cocoon, protecting them from the rest of the world. Ace pulled it way up over their heads, and their toes poked out from the bottom. Light was fragmented and diffused. Heat accumulated as they smelled each other’s scent. Their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. Everything was perfect. They each silently hoped the other didn’t fart.
“I meant what I said before, Pete,” Ace whispered.
Pete desperately, desperately, fucking desperately wanted to hear it again. He *needed* to hear it again. “I totally forgot what you said,” he lied, grinning from ear to ear.
“I think I love you, Pete. It seems crazy. I didn’t believe in love at first sight, I always thought that shit only ever happened in cheesy Hollywood movies, but here I am, and … everything feels right. There’s nowhere in the world I’d much rather be right now than lying under your stinky comforter.”
Pete giggled, wrapping his arms around Ace’s naked back like he never wanted to let him go. “I think I love you too. I was thinking the exact same thing after you left a few weeks ago, because the whole idea of falling for someone when you’ve only known them for a few short weeks seems insane, but …”
Ace interrupted Pete’s thought by rolling on top of him. His cock was hard enough to break glass. He kissed Pete’s neck before moving down to feast on his incredibly sensitive nipples. Pete threw his head back onto his pillow and moaned. “I want you in me so fucking bad,” he whispered. “Please fuck me, Ace.”
Ace spied the half-full bottle of lube on Pete’s bedside table. He dripped some onto his fingers and massaged Pete’s hungry pussy before dribbling some more onto his dick. He stroked himself once or twice, just to make sure he was fully coated.
Pete relaxed as Ace leaned forward. Ace’s cock penetrated him, and Pete’s breath caught. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Pete whispered. He felt Ace’s long, blonde hair tickling his chest.
For Pete, this was the type of passionate sex he’d always dreamed of. This was a fantasy come to life. He reached up to tweak Ace’s pierced nipples.
Ace went as slowly as he could. This wasn’t the same as a quick anonymous fuck after a show, where he knew he’d never see the guy ever again. This wasn’t a shallow exercise in getting his rocks off. This time, there was meaning, depth, and a human connection waiting to be explored. But as he gazed into Pete’s beautiful eyes, felt Pete’s hand wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him down, and felt Pete’s fat tongue force its way into his mouth, his climax began to approach.
Ace broke the kiss. “Pete … wait … no …”
“I want you to, Ace.” He nodded.
Ace’s balls and mind exploded as his twitching dick shot thick ropes of seed way deep into Pete’s pussy. And as Pete felt Ace unloading inside him, he jerked himself and drenched his stomach with own warm semen.
Pete gripped Ace’s ass, holding him inside him. “Don’t pull out. Stay inside me.”
Ace lay his weight down on Pete’s body, feeling the warmth of Pete’s cum on his skin. They continued kissing, but eventually, Pete began to deflate, and he had no choice but to remove his spent equipment. Pete pouted in mock-sadness.
They lay next to each other, both completely spent, and both completely satisfied. Pete’s fingers explored Ace’s torso and neck. He felt so relaxed he could’ve happily fallen asleep. He looked into Ace’s eyes and smiled. “So I’m led to believe you’re playing at Eternal on Sunday night, rockstar.”
“I think that’s right,” Ace replied. “Are you coming?”
“Nah, I’m busy. I’ve got a tax appointment that evening which I’ve been looking forward to,” Pete laughed, “and then after that, I’m going home to wash my hair. But I thought you’d arrive on Sunday afternoon and be gone by Monday morning. I thought you’d only be here for one night.”
“That was the plan, but … that was before I met you. I changed our schedule. We were meant to play a show in Tallahassee on Friday night, and then Columbus on Saturday, and we were gonna come here the next day. The plan was to rock up here, unload, play and then ship back out again the next day. But I spoke to the boys, and we cancelled.”
“You cancelled a gig?” asked Pete. “Why?”
“We cancelled *two* gigs — the one in Tallahassee, and the one in Columbus.”
Pete was dumbfounded. “Why?”
“Duh,” Ace replied, kissing Pete’s cheek. “Because I wanted to see you again, and not just for a quick overnighter. I explained how I was feeling to the other guys in the band, and they understood completely. I told them I’d met someone in Atlanta last time we played there and that we’d been texting. They asked who it was, and when I told them it was the drummer from A2M, they said ‘he’s cool, yeah, you should go meet him again’, and so here I am. Sure, we cancelled a couple of shows, but it works out good for the rest of the band, too. They get to have a break. You know what it’s like — touring is a shitload of fun, but it can also be a grind when you have too many gigs back-to-back. So as soon as the others said they’re cool with some downtime, I booked a flight.”
Ace paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “I meet lots of dudes on the road, and most of the time it’s just sex, but you’re so different. I felt that straight away, when we were talking backstage after the Eternal gig a few weeks back. And I wanted to spend some time with you, away from the stage and away from the scene. And if I’ve worked this out properly, we’ve got three nights together — tonight, tomorrow night, and then there’s the gig at Eternal on Sunday night.”
If it was possible for Pete’s heart to swell any further, it might have exploded.
“Are you hungry, Pete?” Ace asked as he absentmindedly ran his fingertips through the semen pooled on Pete’s stomach. “I always get hungry after hot sex with a cute guy.”
Pete grinned. “Yeah. I could do with a bite. I know a place.”
Ace raised an eyebrow, and Pete already registered the implied question. “No, dude, I’m not taking you to Eternal. Atlanta has other venues.”
Ace had a thought. “Oh, wait. Wait a second. I need to do something before we head out.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to book a hotel,” Ace smirked. “I need to find somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“Shut up,” Pete replied. No way was Ace gonna spend the night anywhere else but Pete’s bed.
They got dressed and ventured out into the street.
Half an hour later, they were at a bar, each with a cool, locally brewed ale in front of them. Ace took a satisfied slug of his beer. “Fuck yeah. That hits the spot.” A cute waiter arrived, bearing menus. They each ordered the exact same meal — the spicy noodle stirfry with vegetables. Their meals arrived quickly, and as they ate and drank, they talked.
“How’d you first get into music, Ace?” Pete asked, slurping up a mouthful of hot noodles.
Ace thought. “I think it was my older sister. My parents were into music, and they owned a lot of records, but they were mostly Latin jazz. Maybe that was because we lived in Miami, and there were Cuban and Latino influences everywhere. I can appreciate that style of jazz now, so maybe it got into my blood without me knowing it, but when I was growing up, I wasn’t into it. I wanted something different. My sister was into loud guitars and the long-haired men who played them, and while I’ve never been into women, it was obvious from the amount of male attention she got that she was hot.”
“Sounds like you’ve inherited the same genes,” interrupted Pete.
Ace smiled. “She had these massive fuckin’ titties that the boys loved,” he continued. “Fuck, they were big. I’m not into chicks, but I always wanted to suck on ’em, and she was my fucking sister! She got whatever she wanted from those dudes. Our front door was like a turnstile, she was going out with a different metalhead each week, and I always felt jealous of her because of the steady stream of hot dudes she brought home. Most nights, I’d hear her getting her brains fucked out in her bedroom next door while they were listening to metal. Maybe she thought the music masked the sounds of sex, but it didn’t. And so here’s me, in the next bedroom, fapping myself to death with a dildo I’d bought online buried up my ass, dreaming about the dude she’s fucking, and wishing he’d arrived in the wrong room and was fucking me instead. I’d wake up the next morning, my parents had usually already left for work, and I’m getting ready for school. My sister’s sitting at the kitchen table with last night’s temporary penis sitting next to her. She’s pouring him a complimentary coffee before kicking him out the door at the first available opportunity, while I’m staring at his hair, his clothes, his face, drooling as I try to imagine what his cock looked like.” He paused. “And so one afternoon, I nervously asked her — ‘what were you listening to last night?’. She welcomed the question. Maybe she thought that if I could hear the music, I couldn’t hear them having sex, but I never told her the truth that I could hear both. Anyway, she started introducing me to metal bands, she introduced me to her army of casual boyfriends, and I even managed to lure a few of them into my own bed. I guess my tastes and interests in music expanded from there. I think I’ve made a mental association between heavy metal and sex.” He looked at Pete. “And also with cute dudes.”
Pete was loving the story. He waved to get the waiter’s attention, and two fresh ales landed in front of them. “Are you still in touch with your sister?”
“Nah,” replied Ace. “She’s dead. Drug overdose.”
“Fuck, dude, that sucks,” Pete commiserated. “I’m so sorry.”
Ace shrugged it off. Pete sensed something deeper was at play in Ace’s thoughts, but he didn’t press. “Heroin’s a bitch,” Ace deflected. “What about you, Pete? What got you into music?”
They’d finished their meals, and the waiter cleared their table.
“I think my influences date back a little earlier than yours might,” Pete started. “Mine are seriously retro. My dad had an old Kiss CD, but I have no idea why. Music wasn’t a big thing when I was growing up. My parents owned a lot of books, but not much music, so I read a lot, and the Kiss album stood out like a sore thumb. I listened to it once or twice and got addicted to it. I played it all the time, gazing at the band’s makeup in the picture on the front cover. Later, I found some concert footage of them online, and I was fucking mesmerised. I wanted to be in a band like that, but I was introverted and shy. I didn’t have many friends, and I didn’t talk to people at school about music. I wasn’t cool. But then, just as I was about to graduate high school, there was this huge retro trend, and for some reason, everyone in my class became fixated on the 1980s. Most people discovered 80s synthpop for the first time, but it was my introduction to late 80s glam metal. The makeup, the hairspray, the denim, the leather, and the excess. You know, bands like Motley Crue, Poison, Skid Row and so on. I loved their sound, but just as much, I loved the way they looked. I used to lay in bed at night jerking off as I imagined Bret Michaels or Sebastian Bach fucking me in the darkness. I grew my hair long, got a shitty job, and saved up enough to buy a cheap drumkit. I imagined I was Rikki Rockett. I had the biggest fucking crush on him.”
“Do you still have the Kiss CD?” Ace asked.
“My dad gave it to me, along with a bunch of other stuff, a few months before he died. Maybe he knew how much it meant to me, and I regret not asking him. I’ll show it to you when we get home. Maybe we can listen to it someday. I haven’t played it in ages, but the last time I listened to it, it didn’t really sound like metal at all. It sounded like innocent pop music. Like, it sounded like it had been polished in the studio.”
Ace raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Polished like Poison. Fuckin’ pop-metal.”
Pete smiled. “I wondered when our first musical disagreement might arise.”
“That time is now,” replied Ace. “Poison fucking sucks, and so does Skid Row.”
In Pete’s heart, he knew this was true. He’d moved on from those 80s glam-metal bands a long time ago, but nostalgia tugs hard at heart strings, especially in conversations like this. “Well, yeah, OK, but if you could go back in time and you had the opportunity, you’d want to have sex with them, wouldn’t you?” Pete volleyed. “And did you see the sneaky dickpic Tommy Lee posted on Instagram just last year? It was only up for a few hours before he deleted it, but don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to wrap your cunt around his cock. I know I would!”
“Duh. Of course I would too, but that’s beside the point. Drink up,” Ace said, draining his beer.
They talked about music for a while longer before the conversation veered in the direction of ink. Ace gingerly touched Pete’s forearm. It sported a tattoo of a brick wall. Ace fucking loved it, but he was curious to see if there was a backstory. “Why’d you get this done? What does it mean?”
Pete looked down at his forearm as Ace traced his fingertips through the bricks. “That feels good,” he admitted.
Ace smiled. “Don’t evade the question,” he jibed.
Pete tried to think, though it wasn’t easy with Ace’s hand tracing tickles across his arm. “It’s meant to be a permanent reminder to myself to stay strong and to be tough. Mentally, that is. I’ve been weak in the past. I’ve been taken advantage of, and I don’t ever want that to happen again.”
Ace got the feeling there was a huge amount of detail submerged beneath Pete’s answer, but he didn’t pry. “And what about the tattoo on your other arm?”
“I had a serious mental episode many years ago. Like, suicidal thoughts. I’m a million miles beyond that now, so don’t worry. The tattoo is a koru, which is a Māori word that kind of means ‘coil’. It’s like the leaf of a fern unfurling, giving birth to new life, strength and peace. And at the time I had it done, I needed a new chapter in my life, and I needed to find inner peace.”
Ace stroked Pete’s koru tattoo. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered, barely audible over the noise of the bar. “It really suits you.”
Ace had many tattoos of his own. Pete only had two or three large tatts that had deep significant meaning to him, but Ace was much more impulsive. References to some of the things he’d done, the places he’d visited and the people he’d met were inked onto his skin to create a constant reminder of them. If Pete asked about Ace’s entire collection, they’d be here all night, so he focused in on one. “You’ve got a tatt on your shoulder that I’m curious about. The number ‘4’. What does that mean?”
“Can you imagine music without the number four?” Ace replied.
Pete blinked. “It’s that simple?”
“Yeah, it’s that simple. I’m a musician, and when you’re a musician, being able to count to four is really important.”
“Imagine counting up to three, and not knowing what comes next,” Pete deadpanned. “It’d be the death of music as we know it. Punk would never have existed, and Sesame Street would’ve been in a world of pain.”
Ace laughed, draining the rest of his glass. More beer arrived. “Hey, so … I hope you don’t mind me asking, but … what happened to Carlos?”
“His boyfriend died in a road accident. It was the day after A2M and Boipussy played a double bill at Eternal a couple of weekends ago. I don’t think you would’ve met him, he wasn’t in town that night. He was an interstate trucker. Definitely not from the metal scene, and I don’t know for sure how he and Carlos first met. I only met him a few times myself. He seemed like a nice guy, quiet and reserved. He helped me lug my kit into Eternal one night, which was really sweet.”
Pete paused for a second to remember that evening. “I was running late and was hungover that night, and I nearly didn’t turn up. I was hungover that night because I stayed out way too late at Eternal the night before. Carlos and his boyfriend were there too, and I drank way too much. I had a serious crush on Carlos at the time, and it’s fair to say I embarrassed myself that night in front of them both. You know how it feels when you get seriously fucking slammed and you do something you’re embarrassed about? The next day you can only remember the bad parts, and the worse parts.”
Ace nodded. He’d been there before too. Many times.
“Wait a second,” said Pete. “I need to take a piss.”
Ace cradled his beer and glanced around the room while he waited for Pete to return.
“His name was Gorilla,” Pete continued, resuming his seat. “Well, that probably wasn’t his real name, but that’s how Carlos always referred to him. Gorilla was driving his truck to Atlanta the day after our show, and he was planning to take some vacation days to spend with Carlos. But on the way, he smashed into a freight train. I can’t piece it all together properly because I wasn’t there, but I think what happened was Carlos was working behind the bar at Eternal that afternoon. In the backroom, one of his colleagues saw reports of an accident on the local TV news. The bulletin showed an image of Gorilla’s face, and she instantly recognised him as Carlos’s boyfriend. I think she walked out to where Carlos was serving customers and told him to shut the bar before she broke the news to him. She called me on Carlos’s phone, told me what had happened, and I drove to Eternal to do what I could. When I arrived, he was in a terrible shape. He was probably in shock, and probably also in denial. He tries to put on a brave face these days, but I can tell he’s still completely devastated.”
Ace didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He’d never experienced loss like this in his own life. “Fuck, man,” he stammered.
“Yeah, I know,” whispered Pete. “I don’t know right now what Carlos wants to do. Either with the band, or with his life. I had lunch with him today, and he’s not the same dude he was before. I think he’s still processing. I was with him when you texted me from the airport. I think he’s just burying himself in work as a distraction. You’ll see him on Sunday night.”
“I hope he’s OK,” said Ace. “I can’t imagine what he must be going through.”
Pete nodded. “Yeah.”
The mood darkened, and they fell silent for a few moments before Pete resurrected the conversation. “You said you played Daytona Beach,” he yelled. “Tell me stories!”
“Fuck, Pete. Spring break is fucking weird even for me, and I’m from Florida. Frat dudes, man. Like, I mean, we get a lot of chicks coming to our shows, but I can never work out whether they come because they’re into us and they want to hear our tunes, or because they want to watch guys making out. Well, let me rephrase that. I *know* they’re there to watch guys making out, but hopefully they like our songs too. Anyway, so we take the stage, and all the women are standing at the back. We’re rockin’ out, the dudes are up front singing all the lyrics and smashing back the beers, and in the distance, I can see the chicks up the back, nodding in time, nursing their drinks, waiting for us to finish so the real show could start. Anyway, so we finish our set and pack up, and each of us has a separate room in the hotel next door. I’ve showered and I’m about to hit the hay when I hear this noise outside my window. It’s coming from the carpark. I flick the light on, and there’s a male-on-male-on-male orgy happening outside. I can see what’s happening because some of the nearby cars have flipped their headlights on, shining their beams across the orgy. And around the men, there’s this circle of women, eagerly watching hot male sex, fapping themselves. And so here’s me, on the 5th floor, watching this happen, thinking — would this be happening tonight in this carpark if not for Boipussy?”
“Maybe not,” Pete replied.
“We got those dudes worked up so fucking much,” said Ace.
“I think I know how they must’ve felt. You get me worked up too, dude. Finish your beer, Ace, I’m takin’ you home now.”
Ace picked up the check, leaving a healthy tip. Pete summoned an uber, and they rode silently in the backseat.
They rode the elevator, and Pete turned the key in the door. Ace immediately ran to the bathroom, closing the door. Pete heard Ace’s bladder unload, streams of beery piss cascading into the bowl. After the torrent had ceased, he heard Ace flush the bowl and wash his hands. “Fuck … sorry about that. I was gonna burst.”
“I know the feeling,” Pete said. “Get the fuck out of my way.” He barrelled into his bathroom and let loose, flooding the bowl. He zipped up and headed back to the living room.
Ace approached Pete, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You know what we both got in common right now?”
Pete drew a blank.
“We both got empty bladders.”
Pete laughed. “True.” He smiled, and Ace returned serve. Their faces pulled close, their lips collided, and their tongues soon followed. Ace’s eyes closed as he surrendered to the urgency of Pete’s kiss.
Pete gently, yet insistently, led Ace towards his bedroom. He turned the lights out. Fragments of illumination rose from the street below. Clothes were shed, and bodies became naked.
Ace looked around in the near-darkness. “I feel like I’ve been here before,” he said.
Pete crash-tackled him, and they both landed in his bed. He rolled on top of Ace’s naked frame, kissing him. “I want you in my mouth so fucking bad,” he whispered.
Ace lay on his back as Pete slowly and seductively made his way down towards Ace’s groin. Ace’s cock was so fucking hard right now, knowing what was to come.
He felt Pete’s hand began to tease the head of his cock. He felt Pete’s hot breath on his shaft.
Ace waited, his cock pointing agonisingly at the ceiling. Any moment now, and he’d be in sexual heaven. He already knew from prior disclosure that Pete didn’t have a gag reflex.
Pete swallowed him whole, right down to the balls. “Fuck,” Ace seethed, his mind completely fried. Pete swirled his fat tongue around the tip of Ace’s head as his throat bobbed up and down his shaft.
Pete looked up at Ace’s face, contorted in ecstatic bliss. He knew how good he was at sucking dick. He took Ace’s cock out of his mouth for long enough to issue a challenge. He wiped his face with the back of one hand while he continued pumping Ace’s shaft with the other. “See how long you can last, Ace.” He looked at the head of Ace’s dick — it was bright purple, and already fit to bust. “I bet you can’t last another minute.”
Ace was curious. “What’s the bet?” He knew this would be difficult. Pete’s mouth was just too fucking good.
Pete thought for a second. “Hmm. Good question. If I can make you cum within a minute, you have to wear your buttplug in your boipussy all day tomorrow.”
Ace raised an eyebrow. He was up for the challenge. “And if you can’t?”
“Then I’ll wear it,” said Pete.
“Do you have a timer?” Ace asked. The bet was on.
Pete found his phone, opened the clock app, and navigated to the stopwatch function. He set a sixty second countdown, showing the screen to Ace. “You ready?”
Ace nodded.
Pete started the countdown and sucked Ace’s painfully erect cock way back into his throat. His tongue lashed across the tip as his fist feverishly pumped Ace’s shaft.
After 20 seconds of irresistible bliss, Ace sighed. “Fuck”. The rest of the minute was gonna be like running a marathon. He tried distracting himself by thinking about sheep. After 30 seconds, the sheep had morphed into snakes. And after 40 seconds, the snakes had coagulated into an image of a gigantic penis that appeared in centre of Ace’s mind’s eye, spewing cum.
Ace fixated on the image of the massive imaginary cock that appeared in front of him. Pete’s fist kept pumping, and the skill of his tongue made Ace’s eyes roll back in their sockets.
At the 45 second mark, Pete noticed Ace’s balls begin to twitch and tighten. He knew Ace had already lost the battle.
After 50 seconds, Ace’s back arched and he moaned uncontrollably. The inevitable could no longer be denied.
After 55 seconds, Pete’s mouth was flooded with fat pulses of thick, creamy sperm.
The timer went off, and Pete savoured Ace’s tasty semen before scooting up to kiss him. Their tongues entwined, and Ace tasted the remains of his load.
“I just wanted you to taste the proof that I won,” gloated Pete.
Ace felt his cock begin to soften. “I’d be angry if you weren’t so fucking goddamn cute,” he smiled.
They sucked face for a few more minutes before falling asleep in each other’s arms.