Baby Blue

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She’ll call herself Baby Blue when they’re desperate for a name to moan. Stole it from a billboard ad along highway 70. Thinks it was the name for a zoo’s newborn seal; bit like that song… Baby Beluga? Blue Jean Baby? Can’t say for sure. Doesn’t really matter. All that does is the power it seems to hold over men, especially those graying at the temples. They’ll whisper it with beer breath, hand on her thigh. Baby Blue. Desperate for the tight gash they no longer get at home.  It’s not really a name she chose herself. If she had, she’d have chosen something that didn’t sound like so much jailbait. That rolled off the tongue: like Delaney or Melanie. Trouble is, she looks too much like a Baby Blue now to be anything else. Names have to fit. And she couldn’t wear either of those names anymore than she could slip on the one she’d thrown away back at her too quiet, too pristine neighborhood. And yet, she’s feeling nostalgic as fuck right now for that trashed name, though not the life it’s attached to. But she’s also blazed as fuck right now, unsure if her mind’s just spiraling on daydreaming clouds of nonsense. The pungent tang of weed fills her lungs. She lets slide a lazy, quirky grin. The music burns in her, royal blue kicks pounding out the erratic rhythms of the punk rock boy band pulsing from giant, thundering speakers. The blood roars in her ears and sweat slick bodies shimmer and glide against her, pressing in on all sides. As she pulls from the arms of a sultry brunette that tastes of blueberries, she head-bangs to the return of heavy guitar riffs while something hard presses against the gauzy material of her dampening skirt. She smiles. Shakes raven hair streaked with electric blue and grinds back on mystery cock. The heat from his body spills into her, warms her, makes her mouth water.She doesn’t want to give in yet. But the need is already on her tongue, between her legs. A little taste wouldn’t matter. Call it an appetizer.When the song ends, she leaves him tucked into a corner, ballcap pulled low, like he’s sleeping off the greatest of highs.*She’s in the Salt Pewter’s extravagant tour bus after the show, their newest groupie, a diminutive devil with a metallic blue soprano and a head full of twisting dreams, hitching away from vanilla livin’ with the sorts of people that know shit all about Coltrane, or Lockjaw, or silky smooth Parker. Just sugary pop that burn holes in heads.She dances for them in all the ways her fiancée would disapprove of: fedora tilted Sinatra style over punk-rocker hair while mocha cream limbs sway to music only she can hear from Rollins to Redman and back down to Adderley.As she moves with ballet grace and stripper’s eroticism, they leer drunkely, sharing perverse wants over cans of Four Loko and freshly rolled joints. Wants that make her cold flesh burn hot.Her eyes open, casual observations spinning and spooling in her head. Zigzagging lines of black tribal ink slope over broad shoulders. Intricate sleeves of color are splashed over muscular arms. Spiked blonde hair. Shaved heads. Small gauges glittering in their ears. All desperate attempts to be dangerous. Edgy. They aren’t. But she is. Blue smiles to herself.There’s black hunger in her bones that can’t be quenched, a layer cake of debauchery and greed, desires that can’t be quantified, that were all stifled by expectation and demand until… glass broke and Baby Blue emerged.Crass aughter dies in their throats when she begins to peel off her clothes: flimsy white button-up goes first, sliding off shoulders to reveal hardened nipples. She pirouettes, the shirt fluttering to the floor as her knees bend into a mock bow. When she looks up, she knows she has them in the palm of her hand. Their red-tinged eyes are glazed from spiked alcohol and reefer. She feels herself dampen, soaking through barely there panties.The black voice inside her sings as she moves toward the keyboardist. Zane? Maybe? She doesn’t really care for anyone’s name but her own.His left arm is a maze of colorful ink, the only one without a skull. She likes that. He licks his lips as she pushes him back into the seat before mounting his lap, skirt riding high on toned thighs. ankara travesti What was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? High school dropout? Maybe he’d opted for music over college, like she had. Music can do that to you.Her fingers thread into his short spiked locks and she leans down, tongue flicking out to trace his chin, bruise over his lips before retreating. He groans, sweat on brow, eyes twitching, cock growing hard in ripped up skinny jeans. She moves in slow circles till he’s whimpering. His friends laugh, tell her he’s a virgin. He gives them the finger. She takes his hands and places them on her butt as she continues to grind. Tells him to call her his Baby Blue, all while her mouth presses to his and his tongue fumbles awkwardly past her blue painted lips. The black voice purrs in satisfaction. Then she’s off, slipping from his lap and his grasp, but placing the fedora on his head with a wink.Blue passes from lap to lap, a cruel teasing smile playing across butterfly lips as she kisses each of them in turn, rubbing her dripping, panty glad snatch over their jeans. Then it’s the keyboardist again, all boyish good looks and virginal nerves. He gasps when she tugs his pants down, face scarlet as her cool hand envelopes him.“Don’t shoot too fast,” the dark skinned drummer cackles.She gives him the finger this time and lowers her head, taking Zane’s hot prick into her mouth.Three bobs and a snake-like hissing of tongue is all it takes before he’s painting her mouth with his seed. She coos, suckling him like a watermelon Popsicle, drawing every last drop out before pulling back to flash the thick heavy cream. A devilish grin splits her face as the black voice hums. Sticky, lipstick blue lips press to his and he squirms, trying to pull away. Strong hands hold him in place and she probes until mouth slips open and her cum stained tongue melds with his. Giggles wrack her body when he pulls her to him, sucking down his own juices with surprising intensity.“Fuck, man. That crazy bitch feeding him his cum? Disgusting,” the nameless drummer whistles.They say that, Blue thinks, but a momentary glance weaves a different tale: jealous lust burns in their vulture eyes.When Zane’s passion fizzles, she dismounts and turns back around. Clothes are strewn all over the bus and the remaining band members recline naked in their seats, skin flushed, eyes hungry, fists wrapped around beautifully cut cock. The scene sparks another wave of dark lust in her, arousal leaking down her legs.“Roll me a joint,” she says, settling on her knees between the lead vocalist’s legs. Doesn’t know his name either. Still doesn’t care.Someone hands her a joint and she tucks it between her blue lips, inhaling deeply, savoring the taste and the warm buzz after effects.At least they knew enough not to skimp on quality grass, she thinks.Smirking, she puffs a smoke ring over the singer’s fat spongy head before passing it along. “Fuck that’s the good stuff, isn’t it, baby doll,” he slurs. “Yea, Baby Blue. That too,” he sighs, cock twitching as she licks her way up the lean muscle of his inner thigh before capturing him in her superheated mouth. His groan is high-pitched and girlish and now it’s Zane’s turn to laugh. When fingers thread into her hair, she slaps them away and chuckles leak from everyone’s mouths.She moves from throbbing erection to throbbing erection, inhaling a small cloud of delicious black gold before teasing them with nibbles and sucks and lazy strokes. By the time the joint crumbles to ash, the sweet scent of her arousal hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the flavors of her mint shampoo and clean sweat.Blue mounts the drummer first, relishing the tones of mocha and dark chocolate merging. If only their sex mirrored those flavors, she thinks idly.The drummer reaches behind her with deft fingers to unhook her school girl skirt. She catches his wrist. Tells him to leave it on. He nods lazily, but she has a surprise. Her balled up thong, wet and sticky, presses against his nose.“Open up,” she commands.Reluctantly, he accepts her gift and she rises up, slots him against her messy sex and drops with a harmonized, guttural grunt. A breathless gasp travesti ankara and hummed praises, a scream when his fat head prods her womb, length and girth forming just the right combination to quake her lithe frame.Time stops. Restarts. Stops again. Over and over like a buggy video.They pass her round like a toy and she lets them – one cock after the next sampling her velvety snatch, stirring her sweet smelling juices into a sloshing, foaming mess. She imagines herself as a frosted pastry. Wishes their cum was whipped cum. Wishes she had a clone of herself. If there was, she’d be desperate to feast on her own messy cunt.“Take it all, Baby Blue,” they say, harmonizing the words into lyrical chorus.* * *She winds up on her knees on the floor of the bus, her perfect bubble butt slapping against the abs of the skinny bassist pumping her from behind and pausing just long enough for keyboardist to slide down her throat until she’s deliciously skewered at both ends.The ones left out complain, stroking themselves as they lean back into leather couches, entranced by Baby Blue’s hedonistic ritual. Her fingers prod her engorged clit and her pussy spasms. The contractions are too much for the skinny bassist and he cries out, pulls out, and shoots a hot rope of cum up her still cool back. The prick in her mouth jumps next and she does her best to swallow, semen bubbling at the corners of her mouth. When they pull away, she collapses on her side, panting.Excited grunts ring out and she’s pushed onto her back. Her chest is straddled, smooth balls slapping down between the valley of her breasts. “Jesus fuck, you’re like ice. What the hell?” he grunts. She shrugs, drags his ass forward, and wraps her wet lips around him.Hands push her knees apart and a baldhead wriggles between her thighs, nose tickling her blue furred mound, tongue knifing through her wet folds until they bloom open.“Fuck,” she sighs contentedly, savoring the warm talented tongue tracing musical notes around her pussy. He teases treble cleffs over her hardened clit, carves bass cleffs down near her ass, then plunges deep inside her sopping wet gash.All she can do is lay there, the oral onslaught sending thunderbolts throughout her body. Her fingers squeeze the ass planted atop her breasts and she sucks harder, lets control begin to slip. Blue sucks up the musician’s heat like a sugared drug. It warms her, fuels her. His body temperature drops, her rises, and she eases off until it’s only a trickle.A few more licks and her mouth floods salty warm again. His body shudders and he pops from her mouth before he’s done, spunk spurting across her lips and cheek. He crawls off and collapses next to her.“Kiss me,” she demands.Tentatively, the spent youth works his way back to her. Mouths meld again, sharing the warm slimy mess.“Holy shit, Blue,” a voice grunts as the wriggling bald head between her legs is replaced with hard cock that rabbit fucks her with blinding intensity.He doesn’t last long. A minute. Maybe two. Then he’s uncorking into her sloppy snatch, a hot stream that seems to last longer than his fuck. He pulls off and sweet, awkward Zane settles between her legs. He stares at her dripping hole, cock twitching as he debates the logic of entering her sodden, stained gash.She opens her arms, a playful grin on her lips. “Don’t you want me?” she teases.Delirious, he nods.“Come here then. Fill your Baby Blue back up.”Zane crawls on hands and knees, pendulous erection swaying hypnotically until he’s hovering above her. She pulls him down to her mouth, crushing his tan, scarred chest to her breasts, cock slipping and sliding across her slick sex. Sweat beads on his forehead and his face flushes crimson while he struggles to bury himself in her slippery folds. Frustrated, she grasps his arms, slowing him, cooing into his ear. The muscles in his pelvis twitch when she takes him in hand, pad of her thumb drawing circles over his throbbing, leaking crown. She gets him notched just inside her slick walls and lets him finish the job.“Push,” she commands.He lunges forward and bottoms out immediately, the combination of her juices and the bassist’s cum providing oily ankara travestiler lubrication. What he lacks in size, he makes up for with eagerness and the one special trick he’s blessed with – a cock curving up like a sickle, pressing hard against her g-spot with each thrust.“Hah, little Z a fan of sloppy seconds,” the drummer laughs. “Always figured the little fucker was fucked in the head.”“Don’t tease him, Bennyboy,” the bassist laughs. “Let the virgin have his fun. Besides, this bitch is smokin’. Well all know who you wet your dick with the first time. Little run down senorita with a coke addiction. You lasted what, five seconds?”“Fuck you, Johnny.”“Just sayin’.”“Don’t listen to them,” Blue whispers in Zane’s ear. “You’re doing great.” Her hips rise up and their groins meet with wet slaps.He doesn’t respond, so she strokes the hair at his neck, tells him to own her, fuck her like his good little slut, his Baby Blue.A small orgasm rips through her when teeth nibble at her nipples.“Good things can come in small packages,” she giggles, snatch rioting and clenching tightly.His bandmates cackle madly. With Zane nuzzling her neck, she chances a look at the rest of them, sizing them up. The one’s who’d been recovering are nursing newly sprouted erections, eyes locked on her curvy hips.“Fuck this,” the vocalist grunts. What was his name? Blaze? It was something ridiculous like that. “May as well be watching a porno. I need some action.”“Turn her over, Z.”Zane mutters out a fuck you, so she has to take charge, hooking her ankles around his legs and rolling them over. She pushes a finger to his lips when he tries to protest.“Shhh. Not going anywhere,” she teases, hips rolling, grinding down hard on his cock.“About damn time,” Blaze says, walking around, prick swinging hypnotically. She grins, reaches up, and takes him all the way into her throat. He sighs, strokes her head, heaps filthy praise on her. Her body twitches when large hands massage her ass, squeezing her cheeks together, causing her inner muscles to contract sharply.Zane grunts.“Ever take it up the ass, Baby Blue?” Benny the drummer asks. “You crave it, don’t ya? This ass was made to fuck.”She hadn’t and she did. That’s why she was here. It was why she was Baby Blue. It was why a fiancée of thirteen hours was sitting at home, working, expecting she’d be home in the morning. Ready to settle down. Give up music. Push out a few kids. But the ice-cold… thing that had crept atop her in the middle of the night, melted through her pours, took refuge in her blood, told her what she’d always wanted and had always denied. Gave her both power and addiction, a desperate need for heat.So she wiggles her ass atop Zane, giving Benny all the answer he should ever need. He produces a bottle of lube from thin air and smears his it all over his cock. She shivers when a cold wet finger probes her anus, tracking the crinkled flesh before plunging inside. The black voice sings louder. She pulls off the cock in her mouth and mouths a keening whine.“Buey!” Johnny interrupts. “Wait, dude.”“For what, Johnny?” Benny says, the head of his cock prodding her tabooed hole.A plastic baggy full of pills dangles from his hand.“Bummed these off the organizer. Said it’s high quality Molly. Should get this bitch high as a kite and keep our dicks energized for hours.”She’s already higher than hot air balloons though. The weed and the alcohol pumping through her, working in concert, make her body thrum. But the poisonous black voice inside her demands greater and greater highs.Baby Blue holds out a hand and Johnny drops a white pill in her hand. She rolls it between her fingers, staring up at him. She swallows it with a swig of whiskey and the band laughs. Johnny switches to Spanish as he watches, muttering about something about taking this piruja gang-style. A seedy laugh spills from her lips. She answers in Spanish, surprising him.* Pills are dolled out like skittles, and even perpetually nervous Zane, who needs only one more look at Baby Blue under the teasing of Benny and Blaze, swallows one down.They form a little circle around her, teasing and tantalizing with feather light strokes, waiting for the pills to take effect. It doesn’t take long. Minutes. The room spins and her body is lightning, hot and crackling with energy. Her fingers stroke and pinch swollen clit and sensitized nipples.Someone lifts her off the ground and she grasps onto the hard, knotted biceps.

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