Pinkie Pie and that one guy who was on stage earlier hurry backstage hand in hand. You watch, dumbstruck and only mildly buzzed. You bump elbows with your chap Andre and point out the way that fine ass looks. He snickers and slaps his knees hysterically, nearly falling over. That guy could never hold his damn liquor.

“DAT AZZ!” Andre says too hoarsely before doubling over again.

You finish your fourth drink and watch “dat azz” jiggle as Pinkie literally skips up the stairs. It’s funny, in a crude sort of way, but beautiful at the same time. You shake your head in envy and admiration. You take another sip, but there’s no booze left. Time for another to reinforce your buzz.

The bartender is a cute slice of pie, but her eyes are downright creepy. The brassy irises encircle pupils that move on their own. Sometimes, they even look at you through her long blonde bangs.

“Hey!” she says in her little bubbly voice. “Thirsty again?”

You reply without missing a beat: “Nah, I just wanted to see how many times I could fill this glass.” The last drops of your obituary trickle and drip down into your mouth as you hold the cup over your lips. You swallow the tiny bit of liquid and slam the glass down.

“Well, you can only fill a glass once, ya know,” the airy one says. “I, wait. Was, um. . . .” The little bartender touches her chin and gazed at the ceiling and the stage at the same time. “Uh, want another cocktail?”

“No,” you say, feeling almost mean. “I want an obituary. Today’s paper, if you got it.” You can barely keep the smile off your face.

“Look, mister, do you want a drink or not?” She slaps a palm on the bar for emphasis. Her tone is as snappy as it is playful.

Your poker face breaks down quickly under her almost-harrowing glare. “Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what I want.”

The bartender’s face eases up in an instant, making her little smile actually quite cute. Your mind’s eye conjures up an image of that smile being filled with an organ while she slurps and looks up. You linger on that image while she turns and grabs the gin, vermouth and absinthe. Her little butt is punctuated acutely by her little white thong.

One of those wild eyes catches you staring, but she’s far from upset.

You get your drink and charge it to your tab. You take a peek straight back at the dark area behind the stage. A burly buddy of yours is standing in the entryway, but that’s as far as security goes. You get some whiskey and coke on the rocks, make that a triple, and take that in your other hand.

Geoff, you remember, gives you a tough guy nod as you walk up to him. “Hey buddy, what’s shakin’?” he asks you with a fake Bronx accent that sounds more like a Bostonian.

“My pale white ass, Geoff. Hey, I know the bass from Baby-lon, and she wanted an obituary. Ya mind?”

Geoff puts his sausage fingers on his sides and spreads his feet one iota. “Oh really? What’s her name?”

Fuck. “Octop-uh, Octavia! Yeah, that’s it, Octopus.” Fuck yeah, you think to yourself, I remembered.

Geoff raises an eyebrow on purpose, but the corner of his mouth curls up, too. “Fine, funny fucker, but I don’t usually let guys I know backstage just because they know someone in the band. If I hear ya squealin’ and stirrin’ shit up, I’m the guy who’s gonna throw you into the alley ass first. And gimmie that.”

His greasy hands steal the whisky drink. Geoff takes a generous gulp, badly hiding the burn. He hands you back the glass and looks straight ahead like you’re not there.

You take back your backwashed-bribe from the burly bouncer and begin backstage. Three conversations fly around a couch, a bong, and a green glass bottle. The first person you recognise in the black light is Vinyl Scratch. Her hair is a radioactive two-shade blue, standing straight in the front and just messy in the back. The medium-long length might just reach her shoulders if it was wet enough to hang down.

She coughs out into the circle of sweaty musicians and Pinkie Pie with her boy toy, picking up mid-sentence. “So-Ough I w-as saying, ahem, then she switches to her desktop the instant I walked in and killed the volume. I played coy, but I knew what it was. O was totally watching po-”

“Marcus!” Pinkie Pie shouts and waves from her spot on the other side of Vinyl Scratch. “Great to see ya, enjoying the show?”

“-nies. Pinkie Pie, you totally interrupted me!” Vinyl says, managing to sound like a badass and a whiny little sister at the same time.

“I was,” you say back to Pinkie Pie, the veritable hostess for the entire damn town. “Up until the failed actor over there decided to sample my drink. He must have felt bad, because he decided to give most of it back.”

“Scratchy,” the dark-haired girl says quietly. “I told you to never, EVER tell anyone about me watching po-”

“No one calls me that!” Vinyl snaps quickly at her. The lady with black hair shies away a bit, but holds an annoyed look like she was born with it. “Oh wait, you call me that.”

“Yuck!” Pinkie Pie says, falling heavily back onto the guy she’s with. “I’ll make Geoff pay your tab. I hate it when he’s a jerk.”

“Me too.” Having paid her mandatory greeting, Pinkie Pie leans over and has her ear bitten. She jumps a little in his lap, quietly giggling as his tan arms wrap around her chest. His name was Accelerate or something kinda stupid like that, you can't remember. He was a badass with the bass, though. His set earlier was pretty damn awesome. You remembered dancing like a moron and suddenly being shoved to the ground during his set. That was alright, because you had soon Irish whipped a tubby guy right into someone else, creating a satisfyingly slapstick collision.

You walk around the pow-wow and stand next to Vinyl Scratch. She exudes an agile sexiness about her no matter how she sits. Her grin is huge as ever, and her eyes are probably bloodshot behind those ridiculous trademark shades. She scoots over so you can sit. It’s hard to not let on to the fanboy drooling inside you.

“Death notice?” you say and offer her your obituary. You sneak a glance at the skin-tight cotton t-shirt while she’s chatting with the admittedly sexy bassist. Vinyl Scratch’s tits are almost exploding out of the white fabric. They’re small, her breasts, but they still deserve worship.

“No way, the orange one’s a bitch and you know it. Huh?”

You grin and fly casual. “Obituary? It’s a cocktail.” You move your hand in a tiny inviting circle.

“Oh, oh yeah! Hell yeah!” Vinyl Scratch takes it from you, thankfully not careful about missing your fingers. Her hot tips brush against yours as she takes the green drink. “What’s innit?”

“Gin, vermouth and dragon piss. Fucks you up pretty quick, I like ‘em.” You contemplate whether or not to drink the whiskey. You look in the glass. Nothing is in the drink but copper brown cast in a purple light. Eh. . . fuck it. You sip and labor through the whiskey. It tastes fine, but like liquor. You manage to gulp and chew an ice cube.

“The hell?” Vinyl says as she stares accusingly at the cocktail. “Tastes like, well, actually it tastes like gin and absinthe.” A scrawny guy with bad skin and teeth struggles someplace beyond where Pinkie and Ritardando sit.

“It better, that’s what she put in there.” You drink again to your snideness. You wonder what Vinyl’s set will be like.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Vinyl says and shakes her head, her big purple sunglasses remain in place. She takes a sip, then a sizeable swallow. “Ah, ya know what? This ain’t half bad. I’d rather stick with Jäger, but change is good.” You and Vinyl take a drink together. “Ah, like tonight. I’m playing with a bunch of new buds, I’m almost broke again, but I’m back home in Ponyville performing for my favorite friends. Free booze, somewhat free bud, some of the best bud ever was in that bong ever and I got fuckin’ ripped on that, then some awesome music. Oh, uh, hey, guy who gave me this drink, you see that dude making out with Pinkie?”

You noticed. “A little.” The bong she mentioned is making its way around, slowly but surely. The five bandmates are all taking their damn time. All but two are sweaty and less than fully dressed. Octavia and the rhythm guitar are still clothed from head to toe. Octavia, the only woman in the group, is wearing a sweater vest with no shirt. Or bra. She wears her grey argyle patterned vest damn well.

“Were you around for his set?” Vinyl takes another sip and doesn’t even gag.

“Yup, I even threw a fattie into this guy who elbowed me. And at the end when he was all bangin’ his head, that guy macking with Pinkie Pie, aw man, the beat was just killer, ya know? There’s great music, and there’s music that’s just pure orgasm-inducing wall of sound that crushes everything.” You drink two swallows.

“That,” Vinyl snickers to herself briefly, almost spilling her preciously expensive obituary. “That’s fucking rad, dude. You should write that down,” You catch the glass out of Vinyl’s hand as she doubles over in a fit of inebriated laughter. “Ah, fuck, I hope I can do that here in a minute.”

“Hey,” you say, sipping some gin. “These metal heads love that shit. But you could take your shirt off, too. I’d bet that’d go over big.”

Scratch rocks back and forth, snickering the entire time. You can’t help but stare. Her skin tight shorts make a certain organ of yours fully prepared for its periodic purpose. You sip your obituary and wait for Vinyl to calm down. The cold drink does very little to stifle your urges. Your sexual drought has never felt dryer.

Vinyl Scratch takes the bong from Octavia, the big breasted bassist. Octavia gave the bowl a good glance, but passed it on regardless. Vinyl holds her face for one second more before leaning over and whispering into your ear. “You do know why the end of Accelerandea’s set was so kick ass, right?”

You shake your head, “accidentally” making Vinyl’s nose brush against your ear.

“Pinkie Pie sucked his cock, right there on the stage. She told me all about it.” Vinyl leans back quickly and sneaks a look to the couple using the couch. You look as well, not really sneaking anything about your gaze. The contours of Pinkie Pie’s ass are bare to your eyes. The way she lays on her guy makes her skirt ride much too high. Unfortunately, she was wearing panites. Fortunately, you got a good ten second stare at the blue beauties.

“Ya know what else?” Vinyl whispers again, her hot breath gracing your ear with its presence. “I don’t even wanna know your name. Tell me, you good at eating pussy?”

You pause for comedic effect by sheepishly letting your face redden and averting your eyes. Vinyl is about to look like she’s talking to an idiot, but you assure her by quite loudly saying: “Either I’m a professional, or I’ve dated a lot of oscar-worthy actresses.”

Vinyl erupts in laughter again. Her elbow strikes the neck of the three foot bong standing in front of her, sending it on a one way trip to the black-painted hardwood. Your hand shoots out before your brain tells it to, deftly catching the glass long before it was in mortal peril. The near empty glass of greenish liquor clinks down unharmed, deafening in the near silence.

Vinyl, Octavia, the shirtless dudes and a young guy picking an unpowered guitar, and Pinkie Pie’s exposed ass, all stare at you in slack-jawed surprise. This new guy, this sorta lanky dude with hands full of booze just saved the day with lightning hands.

A pair of female hands take the bong by the neck. “Nice catch, dude.” Vinyl quickly pulls the ash through the bowl into the water and releases the meager amount of smoke she gets through.

“Axel!” Vinyl shouts, smoke puffing out of her nostrils and lips. “You got any glock left?”

His meandering hands and smacking lips stop in one garbled “Mrwuh?” Pinkie Pie sits up, her thin pink shirt falling back down to hide her industrial-strength bra strap. Her hands hastily slip into the side pocket of Axel’s cargo shorts and fling a small baggie right in your lap. Inside the flimsy plastic is what looks at first to be money, shredded into a pulp and soaked in paper mache paste and clumped together. The white bits soon separate in your mind’s eye, creating tiny fibers. The neon-green bud underneath them is splotched with purple, red and orange.

You load up the bowl without hesitation. The grass is so sticky, it might as well be covered with paste. The stuff reeks like fresh skunk roadkill. You waft another noseful of the smell and empty your lungs. Slowly, you fill up your chest again with smoke. The large chamber turns opaque, then you let the hit rush inside as you remove the hot bowl. Just a corner of the green is charred, yet the chamber is impossible to empty; the smoke smacks your windpipe like a 12-gauge slug.

You take the hit like a punch and keep inhaling. The white smoke burns like hell, but its effects are already starting to take root. At last, the discomfort ignites into searing pain, and you can’t go on. Nearly all of the smoke you pulled ejects out your face hole, expelling a thick white haze in the general direction of the increasingly sweaty couch.

Vinyl Scratch rubs your back as you cough into your elbow for a few seconds. The “glock” or whatever is laced, you’re sure of it. Your entire body feels like nothing, you can only feel your spinal column as you watch your vision recede into a dim circle, then black out completely.

You try to blink, but don’t feel anything but a hand tracing your back, and a tube in your hands. All you can hear is a woman’s voice and some wet noises. It’s Pinkie and Ritardando going at it still. The hand, you remember with a smile, you think you smile, is Vinyl’s. Another touch on your face brings some blood back, and your vision and sense of balance begins to return. You think you can see a hand go down in front of you and pick up something, likely the bong or the weed or something.

Vinyl says something else, but you can only hear wet smacking noises and the blood in your new erection pump. You sit up some, careful of the bong, it was a bong!, and try to hide the growing tunnel snake.

Vinyl’s words drift into your stoned and reeling mind at last. “After my set, meet me back here. And you better have a rubber for that.” Her warm breath tickling your ear registers before her words do.

Your vision and other senses snap back instantly. Vinyl’s tight ass and low riding shorts carry your eye as she walks out to the crowd, tired from three great performances, chanting her name. “PON-3! PON-3! PON-3” Her little red thong is a fucking lure on the end of a fish hook. You want nothing more than to slink out and pull those slacks down and grab that thong and pull. Up, down, it doesn’t matter. Her tight ass is begging to be played with.

You feel a tiny tap on your left shoulder. You let your eyes linger for a moment longer as she drops those shades to her eyes and puts on those big purple headphones. Vinyl and her tight ass put a record on the turntable, scratch twice, and let it play. It’s one from earlier, from when Axel was on, all minor and fun and scary. Then she scratches a second record, making a sexy woman’s voice say “Mmm, yeah!”

And then the drop. Vinyl sticks her hands out to either side and suddenly jumps in the air, landing hard right when the bass comes to life like a roaring leviathan suddenly awaken from the murky depths. Vinyl Scratch bends over her set up and adjusts something, sticking her amazing but up into the air. She bobs and wiggles and sort of dances. You feel drool in your dry mouth.

There’s another two taps on your left shoulder. You acknowledge them this time. It’s Octavia, the bass player. She looks at you, then past you to the stage, her face rosy red.

“Um, excuse me,” she says, amazingly articulate.

“Yeah?” you almost groan. You clear your throat and try again. “You may be excused.”

A tiny smile is poorly hidden on her face. “Are you going to be waiting around for Vinyl Scratch?” She shifts on the floor where she sits, uncomfortably alone. Her band’s gone and Pinkie Pie has just left with her date. It’s a shame how you were too busy staring at Vinyl to watch Pinkie Pie leave. Nah, you reason. Scratch’s ass is better. You mull over the wording your brain used for a little while, gazing intently at the barely covered cheeks.

“Hey. Hey!” The cute sweater vest chick snaps her fingers, breaking your staring again. You shift on the floor and move the bong to your side. The music is really distracting. “Tell her that I have to go move equipment and stuff, then I’ll be over. Got that?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Hey,” you let your words fall. It seems like the right thing to do. The floor feels like it’s wobbling, just a bit.

Octavia stands in place, stretching her back in every way. When she arches her back, placing her hands on her lumbar, her sweater puppies press against their cage in a magnificent way. “What is it?”

“Where’s over?” you lay down on your back, stretching out the vertebrae and feeling the wub wub through the floor.

Octavia bends over to pick up her guitar and inadvertently show off her nice ass. You think she needs to invest in pants like Vinyl Scratch’s, even if her thighs are a little less petite. She turns around, wiping her slightly sweaty bangs out of her eyes. “Scratch’s place down the alley. Are you coming, too?”

You glance at the bong, sneaking a look at Vinyl’s tight ass. “Not yet, no one’s even touched the poor thing! How about you, how close are you?” You snicker and lay your head back on your palms.

She simply stares stilettos at you, struggling to stifle her smile. “Just tell her I’ll be waiting at her place, alright? Uh,”

“‘sMarcus. Just Marcus.” You hold up your left hand.

She offers her right, but quickly gives her left. “Octavia. I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

You roll over and lift your hands and legs like a superhero, drinking in the beats with your ears and your bones. “Eeyup, and nice left-handed handshake. Now I know your cool. Yeah, I come to almost every baby lawn show. Learn about lawn mowers, find the best deal on a baby lawn mower. You know, in the summer, you should leave the mulch on and let the dead baby bits fertilize the lawn.”

Octavia blinks twice. “What the fuck?”

“Babylon?” you say, holding out an upturned palm. “Baby, lawn? A lawn, of babies? They grow in the warm months, so you have to mow to keep your lawn tidy.”

The song ends abruptly, making her covered laugh just audible. I’m in, you think to yourself. The world still feels kind of spinny and your stomach feels light, so you remain on the floor. Sitting up isn’t very hard now, but it’s not easy. The “glock” or whatever is extremely high caliber. You do just that and sit criss-cross-applesauce.

“Right,” Octavia says, feigning aggravation. “Tell Vinyl I’ll be home. Are you going to be there?”

“Not if I try to take another hit like that,” you reply.

Octavia flips her long, messy hair over her shoulder. “Well, I’ll see you when I see you, Marcus. So. . . see you.” Octavia turns and exits, rather awkwardly. Her pants hug her butt tightly, giving new life to your tunnel snake.

Vinyl’s shaking chest sinks into yours, her signature purple shades flying through the air to a couch. Your lips touch at the same moment your back slams into her living room wall. Vinyl touches your face and your shoulders, kissing your lips and your chin when she misses. Your hands wander all over her back. One paws at her shoulder-blade while the other massages her lumbar, struggling to pull her amazing, petite, sexy body to you. Her soft skin is slick with sweat from the show. You grab her ass hard and feel her tongue snake into your mouth. Her spit tastes sort of sweet, her skin smells like sweat. Her natural scent drives you crazy with lust.

Vinyl Scratch breaks away and stands the both of you up. She immediately brings her lips back to yours, moaning softly into your mouth. You almost fall three times as you both stumble up the stairs.

Things move in a flurry of flying fabric and soft touches. You find yourself standing shirtless in Scratch’s warm room, the silence only stopped by soft panting. Vinyl looks up from her knees and stops playing with your belt.

“We need some beats,” she says flatly. Vinyl stands and bends over a surprisingly large setup. There’s dials and knobs and sliders and switches all over the place. Vinyl Scratch wiggles her ass just the slightest bit, now nearly bare, as she rummages through some records. Her bright red thong deliciously sits between her tight cheeks.

“Got it!” she says. “Yeah, this should get us in the mood.”

“Scratch,” you reply. “I’m already hard as fuck. Let’s just get naked al-”

“Shut up!” Vinyl cranes her neck and glares at you. “Trust me, this will be worth it.” Vinyl Scratch powers on the two heavy speakers she uses as a table for the entire setup and puts the record on. Immediately, the bass tears the house a new one. The excruciating volume ceases as suddenly as it started.

“Sorry! Sorry ‘bout that.” Her voice carries through the ringing in your ears. Scratch slowly adjusts the volume until it’s just a bit too loud, then one bit louder. The thudding bass makes your heart feel funny, your entire chest feels light and watery. Scratch starts to sort of dance with the music, moving her hips and letting her hands go wherever they want. Scratch’s hair flies with her wild movement to the nearly abstract beat. It’s nearly impossible for you to feel.

She meanders up to you, shaking her tight ass right in front of you in time. Vinyl doesn’t need to say what’s she’s thinking. You grab her hips and grind your rock hard bulge between her cheeks. You only get to do this for a minute before she stands and holds her back to your chest. You gladly reach around and take hold of her small breasts, squeezing them softly. Vinyl’s butt presses into your groin as hard as you squeeze. While your right hand cups her breast, your left slides down to her inner thigh. Her soft skin is hot and fun to touch. Your fingers move in circles, feeling the heat increase as you nearly brush her barely clothed lips. Vinyl moans as you slowly kiss her neck, still moving hips and circling around her slightly slick upper thigh. You really clamp down to see what happens. Vinyl just moans out in pain and nearly falls over, her entire weight pressing into you.

Some words try to sneak out of her mouth, but Scratch can’t be heard over the thumping bass and wub wub. She falls over onto her knees, and now you see why. Her red thong has been digging into her soft lips. The soft cotton is drenched.

You play with the fabric and watch the way her lips move over it. Scratch is having trouble just standing on her hands and knees. You pull up, fixing the placement, and help Vinyl to stand again. She kisses your neck gratefully and makes her way down your chest. Her tongue flatly licks the smooth skin above your pants button as she works to undo it.

Your heart skips a beat as Vinyl undoes the zipper. She quickly yanks down your pants and bites her tongue, her eyes working over the rock-hard thing in your shorts. Scratch lightly plays with it through the fabric, but pulls those down soon enough. The dark-pink head bobs up as the waistband no longer restricts it.

Vinyl can’t hide her longing. She sort of laughs and hunches over, staring at the glans and the shaft. She takes the base of it in her long, slender fingers and just slowly strokes, using barely any pressure. The soft skin of her hand feels good, really good. You idly look up at the ceiling and roll your head all around, stretching out your neck muscles. Your face the door to your right and find that it’s open. Your eyes meet Octavia’s for one long second.

She squeaks, her face crimson. Her long black hair whips around as she flees.

Scratch immediately stops stroking and struggles to chase after, stumbling some. You hear the dual pattering of feet downstairs, and a few distraught words from either woman. You pull your shorts and pants back on and investigate.

“...you were a lesbian!”

“Well, about that,” Vinyl says in her cool way. “I am, but I also like dudes sometimes. What’s wron-”

“What’s wrong?” Octavia’s normally alto voice is a trembling soprano. “I let you get intimate with me, only to see you eye to eye with, with a penis?!”

You and Vinyl can’t hold back a little snicker. “S-sorry, you said penis. But O, ya gotta listen to me. This guy is pretty fuckin’ cool, okay? O, O, ya with me? I forget his name, but he’s really funny and cool. I was just gonna give him a little head, get some head back, and that’s it! All casual, no worri-”

“Marcus. That guy’s dick you were about to taste is named Marcus.”

Vinyl smiles as she buries her face in her palm. “Sh-sh-I knew that.”

“And you’re drunk!”

You stoop over the railing of the balcony and look down. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t!” Octavia is standing in front of Vinyl, her arms crossed and holding up those nice breasts. The loud music is quieter out here, but the conversation is still audible. “And you aren’t? Come on, you just played an amazing concert, have a drink and a smoke and come upstairs. I’ll make it up to ya, I promise.” She whispered the last word, making Octavia sort of shudder.

Octavia shifts her weight, still staring at the barely clothed DJ. “Get off the counter,” she says. “You’re getting it wet.”

You and Vinyl bust out laughing at precisely the same time, just a short moment after “wet”. Octavia, blushing deeper than before, stares up at you.

“H-hey,” you try to say down at her. “You did say it. And just because I have one of these things doesn’t mean I don’t know how to play any woman’s pussy like a fiddle.”

Now it was Vinyl’s turn to double over in laughter. “W-wrong clef, Marcus! Hey, O, I’m sorry, okay? I like you, I really do, and it isn’t like I’m going anywhere. I should have warned you, put a sock on the door or someth-”

“Or something.” Vinyl hops off the countertop and walks over to the stairs. The house is quite small, and she sways a bit as she navigates the crowded living room.

Vinyl ascends the staircase swiftly and stops at the top, looking down to her girlfriend at the bottom. “O, you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” Scratch suddenly stoops over and takes off her little red panties, wet as they are. “But you’re more than welcome to watch, you know. Marcus,” she shouts and snaps to attention, twirling the thong around. You can smell her pussy from ten feet away. “Get in that room and take off your pants!”

You do as you’re told, spanking her butt as she puts it out for you. Vinyl doesn’t close the door behind her, letting the bass into the entire house. The door wouldn’t have been much of a barrier, in any case. You drop your shorts and help Vinyl with her little sports bra. It comes off fast, and you’re quick to palm her small breasts. The small nipples are hard and sensitive to being pinched. Scratch arches her back and moans every time you compress her little pink nips. Vinyl stifles a shriek and makes you stop, her blood red irises catching your stare.

“You can stop pinching, now,” Vinyl says just barely over the music. She shakes her hips to the beat again, still gazing at you with her big eyes.

“I never noticed those before,” you almost whisper, dumbly caught in her stare. Suddenly, DJ PON-3 gets on her knees and stares up at you, her mouth slightly open. Without a word, she pulls your underwear down again, moving her head left and right with the music. Vinyl grabs your erection by the base, gripping hard. A wicked little grin spreads on her face.

“Ready for this?” she asks.

You need to only nod; there’s not much else you can do. Scratch moves her shoulders and her hand with the crazy weird beat, stroking in a weird rhythm and varying speeds and pressures. She sits up and spits on the head, using her thumb to spread it around your hot helmet. Her skin slides over yours, hot and fast. The sensation is incredible, so strong and sudden. Vinyl uses her hand to stroke, almost entirely coating your shaft with saliva. It’s amazing lube, until it heats and dries up a little. Scratch opens wide and sticks out her tongue, then slaps your dickhead on her flat tongue.

She re-grasps the base and slaps twice more, smiling and giggling a little. You put a hand on her hair, staring at her glowing, crazy red eyes. It’s an amazing sight, Vinyl sucking on the very tip. Her blood-red eyes pierce your mind as her cheeks cave in with suction.

Suddenly, the music breaks for a second, letting a female voice moan out: “Oh, yeah!” Vinyl suddenly opens wide and sucks your entire cock into her hot mouth. She takes it all, her nose even touches your stomach. Vinyl gags and moans, massages the underside of your shaft with her entire tongue, then pulls back to stroke your slick shaft and recoup. Her hot spit cools on your shaft, but her hand moves quickly over the slick skin. Her fingers are a blur, and are giving the perfect mixture of softness and friction. You feel your cock getting hot again.

Vinyl slows down some, thankfully, and looks to her right towards the door. Octavia is sitting, shirtless and red faced. Vinyl goes back to stroking and bobbing her head with the beat. You grab her hair again and push her lips to your cock again. Vinyl smiles wide and sucks again.

Her lips nearly reach the base on every downbeat. Her rhythmic bobbing feels amazing, especially when her tongue is randomly flicking and massaging and slipping wetly over the hard organ in her mouth.

Vinyl Scratch suddenly picks up the pace, sucking hard and rocking back and forth. You throw your head back and feel the pressure, the heat, the wetness and the moving flesh on your tool. Her tongue laps along every inch of the soft skin atop the rock hard organ underneath. You can’t hold on anymore. Scratch's throat is too good. You tap on her head three times and utter a warning, you can feel yourself about to blow.

She lets up and gasps for air as she grasps the base of your ready cock. “Ah, god Scratch, you’re fucking amazing. Where should I shoot it?”

Scratch just strokes the slick shaft slowly and smiles up at you, her red eyes searing your soul. “You mind?” she asks.

You just shake your head and gaze right back down at her. Those eyes, fucking hell, those eyes! Scratch giggles and licks her lips. She strokes twice as fast and watches the precum dribble out. Vinyl grabs her breast in her other hand and leans back, looking up again.

Vinyl jerks as fast and as hard as she can, her saliva makes the best lube. “Come on, fucker! Gonna cum? Ya gonna shoot a big fuckin’ load for me? Oh, come on, cum for me, just blast all you got! Oh my god, just give me all you’ve got!”

The stroking, the throating, the fucking bass and the dirty talk speed things up. You feel your core tense up, and at last you blow. A thick shot flies right into Vinyl’s bare tits, splattering and dripping. She moans and laughs as thick ropes launch out and land on her soft skin. Your mind goes blank, your chest seizes up as you ejaculate all over DJ PON-3’s chest.

“Oh, oh my god!” Vinyl says, wiping some sperm away from her eye. “You were holding back, weren’t you? Ah, I bet that felt so good.”

You swallow hard and look down at Vinyl. “Yeah, it was okay,” you mutter. The awesome bass is now blaring, annoying and too loud. Her B-]cups are spattered and coated in places, and her face has one thick line of cum right over her right eye. Some semen clings to her crazy hair, bridging the shades of blue with a few lines of white.

“Get a drink,” Scratch says, holding some sperm on her fingers. “Then clean this up. And grab a towel.”

“Paper towels,” Octavia nearly shouts over the music.

“O-okay. For you, Scratchy,” Octavia mutters in the soft tones of a much gentler song.

“Tavi,” Scratch says from the bed. “Thanks for keeping an open mind.”

You scratch your neck and watch Octavia undress. “O, no no no, allow me.” Scratch rolls forward and holds her hands out, sitting on the end of the bed. You sit down behind Vinyl and simply rub her back. Her soft skin is dry again after a quick shower. As fun as it sounded, Vinyl only washed her chest and ass in the shower. Octavia helped, but only after the semen was washed away.

The glass door of the shower fogged up quickly, but Vinyl or Octavia’s round ass would usually be pressed up against it. Vinyl actually convinced Octavia to press her bigger breasts to the glass in a glorious way.

Before you knew it, Octavia and Vinyl Scratch stepped out, sopping wet and extremely sexy. You don’t even bother fighting the urge to touch yourself at the sight. Octavia blushes red again and looks away, but Vinyl, her wet blue hair weighed down, winks and spreads her shaved pussy once for you. Octavia’s hair was also stuck to her body, a long black mass hanging down to her lower back. She was shaved, also. Her pussy lips look just as inviting as Vinyl’s, if not more so for their forbidden status.

Vinyl Scratch and Octavia towel off, with a little aid, and return to the bedroom. Octavia began to put her clothes on until Vinyl Scratch helped her to take them off again.

They soon were on the bed, kissing deeply and slowly. You sit still and watch in a comfortable chair. You watch from behind as Octavia, her round ass a bit meatier than her girlfriend’s, bends over and kisses Vinyl’s neck slowly. Their skin is fresh and clean, not sweaty anymore. You really want to just get up, stick a finger in Octavia’s nice, slick vagina and slide your cockhead all the way in.

Resisting the urge is powerful, but Vinyl speeds things up by slipping a finger to Octavia’s glistening petals. You kneel at the foot of the bed and, after getting used to the smell, play with Scratch’s lips. She moans and moves as you tickle her entrance and her clit.

Octavia rolls off and looks into Scratch’s bright red eyes. They share one more slow kiss, really taking their time. At last, Scratch breaks away and whispers something that makes Octavia smile and shake her head.

“No, Scratch, that’s silly. Not tonight, okay?”

Vinyl sits up and looks at you for just one second, making waiting somehow bearable. She turns and pounces on Octavia, pinning her down and kissing her all over. She quickly moves down Octavia’s chest, stopping to play and suck on her big breasts, and continuing down until her feet touch the footboard.

You stand behind her, your toes almost touching the wooden end of the bed, and put both hands on Scratch’s hips. You slowly massage up and down, feeling her warm, smooth skin.

Scratch sits up, her nice butt lightly touching your rigid penis. The back of Vinyl’s head is very nice, too.

“I like your style, guy. Just hold up for one minute and go into the black dresser over there. The top shelf, on the left, there’s a box fulla ties and shit. Get the pink one ou-”

“SCRATCHY!” Octavia shouts. “No way! Those are for my performances!”

“And when we share a bottle of that peanut wine.” Vinyl snickers and looks over her shoulder at you, giving you another valuable look at her red irises. The whites are a little pink as well.

“It’s Pinot Grigio, and you know that was special!”

“Alright, alright,” Vinyl submits. “No bowtie, sheesh. I think you look so cute in them, Tavi.”

You can’t believe your boredom, considering your cock is inches away from a hot pussy and another gorgeous woman is laying right in front of you.

“Can we get started, already?” Vinyl asks. “I can’t believe how bored I am when my girlfriend is nude below me and there’s a nice cock right behind me.

Fucking hell! You grab Scratch’s tight ass to relieve your boredom. The soft flesh yields, and Vinyl lifts her butt up for you to play with.

“Hey, uh, Marcus?” The time between “hey” and “Marcus” shows how good she is with names. “I was thinking about this in the shower. Sit down in the chair, but move it right in front of the bed. And Tavi? Get that thing in the nightstand.”

“Why do you want my boo-oh. Oh! Oh, yes ma’am!” Octavia swiftly rolls over and pulls open a drawer. You take the big office chair and roll it over the thick carpet to the foot of the bed. Your bare skin sort of sticks to the leather already, so you take Octavia’s sweater and lay back against that.

Vinyl gets off the bed and puts a hand on your shoulder, but you manage to watch as Octavia pulls out a slick black vibrator. Little can dislodge that thing from your vision. Octavia tries to hide it by laying it in her lap and looking away, but it’s almost as if you have x-ray vision. You can almost see it perfectly through Octavia’s hands. Like magic, you imagine the thing slide between Octavia’s nice, wet thighs and sneak to her entrance. Your mind’s eye paints the moving picture of black plastic sliding into wet, hot flesh perfectly. A cross section of Octavia’s nice cunt getting penetrated stays in your field of vision as you look to the side.

Vinyl Scratch’s fine ass is right in your face. You reflexively reach up and quickly grab her by the inner thigh, making her yelp and laugh playfully. You smile and lick her cheek, and then just nibble.

“Ah, Marcus,” she half moans. “J-just fuck me, okay?!” It’s physically and obviously evident that she’s fucking horny: her upper legs are slick with fluid. You tickle her soft petals and slide one finger along her slit, diving into her hot folds. Your finger slides back and forth, searching. You find her clit, the hard little knob, her hot entrance, and the soft skin above her slit. It’s completely smooth, no bumps or anything.

Vinyl lets out a slow, hot moan as you slip one finger in. You push up, going as deep inside of her tight cunt as you can. Your finger can hit every spot inside her with one twitch.

“Muh-Marcus, ah,” Scratch manages to say. “Ah, O’s getting jealous. Just let me do my thing, alright?”

You notice that, despite her request, Vinyl doesn’t want you to stop. She’s using either hand to grab her breasts and play with her clitoris. You retrieve your finger, sampling the sex juice on it. The flavor is like the scent, organic, nasty, and otherwise tasteless.

Vinyl Scratch beckons over the other woman with a finger and carefully sits in your lap. You slouch a bit and grab her upper thighs from behind. The warm skin is so soft, so inviting. Octavia shuffles over to the edge and, with encouragement, slowly spreads her legs. The soft music is nice and calming, almost embracing, in a way.

“Don’t worry, Tavi,” Scratch barely whispers. “You’re so wet, mmmm do you think you need some lube or lotion or something?”

You stop slowly caressing and stare as Octavia touches her clit and massages herself. “N-no, I think I’m ready. J-just keep it on low to star-”

“And be ready to crank it up later, I know how it goes, O. Let’s do it!” Vinyl opens her legs nice and wide to lean forward. She bends her neck down and, surprisingly, takes one big lick to start off. Octavia moans and shuts her eyes. She seems to love Vinyl’s tongue.

You can’t take it anymore. Getting head wasn’t close to enough. You dip one finger down and tease Vinyl’s holy entrance, but the angle makes it difficult and awkward. Scratch moans and sits up a little, allowing your cock proper entry. You gladly take the opportunity.

The very tip prods Vinyl’s tight hole, making you and her react vocally. The head slips in suddenly, and her hot walls engulf the first inches of your head with excruciatingly fantastic pain. The pressure lets up a little, and Vinyl can only barely hold herself up. She tries to say something, but only nods and moans as you lift up her thighs and knees some. It’s hard to hold her at this angle, but you won’t have to for long.

Slowly, your dick pushes deeper and deeper inside while Vinyl plays with her girlfriend. Octavia is moaning and laying back as you focus on humping to ease your way in. Vinyl’s blue hair bobs up and down like earlier, in rhythm.

Her pussy feels unreal. Your head keeps pushing further and further in until you’re fully engulfed inside her petite body. Once all the way in, you let her weight down onto your lap to rest your arms and shoulders. She’s small, but not weightless. Vinyl finds the floor with her feet and sits up, still pleasuring her girl. The position is still awkward, the chair is too upright.

When you mention it to Vinyl, she simply lays back into you, still impaled fully, and says over her shoulder: “It reclines some, just lean back and put your feet up on the wood. Oh, oh, oh yeah that feels goood, oh Marcus, lock the wheels, too.”

You do as she says and kick one of the wheel locks into place. Now the chair won’t roll away on the plush carpet. Over her shoulder, you watch Scratch work on Octavia. The dark plastic is humming away deep inside Octavia, making her moan and exhale praise. She lets out little peeps and squeaks when she fails to stifle them. Vinyl plays with the clitoris some as well.

As best you can, you try to lean back. With the chair held in place, it’s easy to get the leather chair to recline roughly thirty degrees. Vinyl is lifted up and back some on top of your rigid organ. She carefully leans forward, using the bed as leverage, and lifts her ass in the air. Almost all of your shaft is exposed before she falls down and tests the hydraulic spring.

“Fuck,” is all you can say when she does it again. Her wet pussy slides hotly around your tool every time Vinyl Scratch lifts up her tight ass. She moans and goes faster, her hips sort of wavering. She might be close to orgasm, you can’t tell. You know for a fact that you won’t last for long, not the way the chair bounces and encourages you to hump back.

“Mmm Scratchy! Oh god! Oh, right there!” Octavia moans and flips her hair out of her face. “Oh, oh yes, ah, y-yes! Yes, there it is! I-I’m close!”

“Ffuck, I am too, Tavi.” You grab Scratch’s tight ass and lift and let go, making her fall faster and harder than before. “Ah! Ah, god, that thing’s gettin’ all the way up in there, isn’t it?” Vinyl mumbles.

You remain silent and focus on not shooting inside. You pull down on her hips and just hump, not moving far, but push deep inside. Your hot tip hits a fleshy wall. You feel pleasurable pressure turn uncomfortable. Scratch has to sit up to maintain her self, relieving some of the force. You reach up and grasp her little breasts from behind, guiding her so you can fuck her vertically, still deep inside.

Octavia and her girlfriend are going at it as fast as they can, riding and pushing and moaning and panting. Suddenly, Vinyl’s vaginal walls clench hard and randomly. The muscular compresses drive you wild, but also hurt enough to keep you alert. You’re going to cum, too.

With the last of your strength, you lift Vinyl Scratch up and off of you and release. It was close, too close. But instead of coating Vinyl’s fleshy, flexing walls in gravy, you spatter her arms and the bed with random gobs of sudden, unaimed cum. You just flex your core muscles and feel the load launch as you semi-consciously ejaculate. Your brain bubbles into a broth for a moment, hot and steamy. Vinyl’s mind is in some similar state as she convulses a bit in your lap. you sit up and just hold her, feeling your dick throb and lazily spit a few more droplets of precious DNA on the floor. Your tired chest embraces her sexy back as she relaxes, falling into you. You lay back, enjoying her weight on top of you.

When you can open your eyes, you kiss Scratch’s lips immediately. You finally feel sleepy tonight, holding a talented, sexy lady in your arms. You can hear a faint buzzing over Scratch’s soft moans, but that’s not very important.

It is to the DJ. She breaks the kiss, her vibrant eyes linger for the shortest moment ever. “Oh, Tavi! How you doing, girl?” Vinyl hops up and touches her fingers to Octavia’s stomach. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

Octavia merely laughs softly and looks up. “J-just t-take i-i-it out, S-S-Sc-cra-a-tchy.” She can barely talk at all; and now you see why: the big black plastic tool is vibrating inside her like a jackhammer. Vinyl quickly yanks it out, letting the faint hum explode to a loud, rattling, buzzing noise.

“I’m so sorry, Tavi! I would have stopped, but, but I was cumming, too. Oh, are you o-”

“Scratchy, I’m great. It only hurt a little at the end.”

“O,” Vinyl Scratch whispers. “That was some serious fun.”

“Okay, Scratchy,” Octavia whispers back. The pet names are getting old. They hold each other, letting the drenched vibrator chill, now still on the bed. You watch from the leather chair as they kiss with slow, loving passion.

While it’s hot and all, you find yourself thirsty, bored, tired, and in need of a piss. You decide to leave the bits of semen all over Octavia’s feet and shins as an inconvenience for a later time.

You slowly peel yourself out the the chair and use the toilet and wash up, then return to the bedroom. Octavia and Vinyl Scratch are spooning under the covers. You’re envious of the DJ who gets to cop a feel all night long.

“Uh, ladies?” you say to neither in particular. You don’t know who wears the pants in the relationship, but you presume the party-animal DJ has some warrant over her reserved girlfriend. “That was just, a gay old time. I had tons of fun. Scratchy, Tavi,” you tip your invisible hat and find your clothes.

“First off,” Vinyl says from her back, her right hand till wrapped around her girlfriend. “No one calls me Scratchy, and no one calls her Tavi. Second,” Vinyl Scratch pauses, “you said gay. Third, you can sleep in this bed.”

Your grip on your boxers relaxes a bit. “IF,” she continues, ” you don’t try anything on Tavi. She’s mine.” Vinyl’s face scrunches up and her amorous hold on her girlfriend turns into that of a child protecting a teddy bear from bullies.

A smile forms on your face before you think to make it. “What if,” you pause, “I get one nipple touch.”

Vinyl remains stone. “No.”

You pause, pretending to weigh your options. “I begrudgingly accept your offer.”