A little while later, I kicked Sonny out of my house so I could makedinner and then get ready for a scheduled rehearsal. I was in ahappy mood after being subjected to a nice fucking and Sonny's cumcontinued to drip out of me as I ate and then warmed up on my guitar. I waspretty sure that, at that moment, Sonny was phoning his buddies totell them he just screwed me. I definitely wanted him again, too. Hedidn't call me for three days afterward, so he was learning.
Monday, I went to the beach again. I took my Epi acoustic with meand played to myself as I sat on my towel in my white bikini near alifeguard tower getting some rays. A few feet away, there were acouple of women in their early 30's sunning themselves andapparently listening to me play. They both had slim, athletic bodiesas if they did a lot of swimming and running. After I finished doing"Take it Easy," they clapped and said I was really good. "I hope I'mnot bothering you," I replied. "I don't mean to if I am. " "No, we'reenjoying the serenade," one of them smiled. I began playing "LaGrange" and some guy around us began doing the spoken part of thesong and then the "a hmm hmm hmm" and "how how how" bits when theycame around. Everybody thought it was a riot, as did I. I shiftedover to "Big Yellow Taxi" and things quieted down.
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After anotherlittle while, the two women got up and, I guess, were going back totheir rental unit. "Hey, do you want to join us for a drink?" thetallest of the pair asked me. "Sure!" I chirped. The three of usshuffled off the sand to one of the beach front duplexes and weclimbed the stairs to their apartment. "I'm Julie," the tall onerevealed, shaking my hand softly. "I'm Melody," I said. The otherone was Patti. Julie, who was around 5'7", had some gray streaks inher long light brown hair, so she wasn't in her early 30's as I hadsupposed, but probably at least a decade older than that. She had acute toothy smile and her vocal register was slightly lower than mine or Patti's. She said she was a college professor.
Patti, who was maybe an inch shorter than Julie, had bobbed darkbrown hair and was definitely younger than 35. She was an insuranceagent. Julie poured each of us a glass of wine. "How old are you ifyou don't mind me asking?" Julie wanted to know. "17, but I'll be 18in just under a month," I asserted.
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"You're really gorgeous," sheadmired as she handed me the glass. We talked about ourselves for abit and they were interested in the fact that I was a woman playinghard rock. They asked me to play some more stuff for them duringwhich Julie refilled my wine glass.
Once I had two or three songs and drank some more of the wine, Juliewent to her bedroom and came back with a lit joint in her mouth. Wepassed it around until it was done and, of course, I was in a reallygood mood. This time, Julie was sitting next to me and she wasrunning her righthand up and down my left arm. My gaydar was goingoff and I was hoping that it wasn't a false alarm. She asked me if Ihad a boyfriend and I responded that I didn't. She then wondered ifI had a girlfriend. I said no since I spend almost all of mysocial, and it you want to call it that, professional, time withmen. Julie's hand was now on my lower back and her eyes were rivetedon mine. She smiled, then cocked her head to one side and kissed me. It was a soft, loving buss and was soon followed by increasinglypassionate ones. I felt the string on the back part of my bikini topbeing untied and then her soft hands on my tits. I took a quick lookover at Patti and she had her righthand in her bikini bottoms andwas playing with herself.
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I unhooked Julie's bikini top and pulledif off of her. My mouth covered the nipple of her right A cup breastas she continued to tenderly manipulate my knockers and milk ducts. Our breathing was definitely more rapid and Julie was heartilyenjoying the tugging sensations on her milk duds.
She undid the neck part of my bikini top and then went to her kneesand loosened the bow on my bikini bottoms, pulling them away so shecould access my snatch as I slid my butt down toward the end of thesofa. I gazed over at Patti again and she was furiously friggingher nubbin and about to climax. I kept watching her while I felt thefirst impact of Julie's tongue on my little man in the boat. Patti'sloud panting added a little extra spice to my mounting horniness. She let out an agonized cry to signal that she was being overwhelmedby the pleasure her clit was transmitting throughout her being. Julie was sucking on my girl penis and fuck, it felt amazing.
When Patti had recovered from her bout of euphoria, she stripped andmoved over to my right and started kissing me. The entire time,their sliding glass door was open, which let us a feel a nice lightbreeze waft across our bodies, but the railing of the veranda wassolid enough that nobody was going to see us even if they could hearus if one or more off us orgasm in a loud voice.
I was feelingvery warm inside and my normally soft, yellowish-white skin wasflushed on my cheeks and upper chest. Julie zealously maintained thevigor of her campaign on my love button, compelling me to squealinto Patti's mouth as the wicket lightning pierced my soul.
Julie suggested we retire to her bedroom and I plopped myself ontothe bed, sitting with my legs open and leaning back on my hands. Ididn't know if Julie wanted to revisit eating me or if she waslooking to grind.
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It turned out to be the latter and Julie placedher left leg flat on the bed and then folded her right one near myleft and I felt her wet cunt against mine. She undulated her hipsand we smeared each other's vulva's with our natural lubricants, myclit being softly scraped against her. I pushed back at her tointensify the degree of friction and we were soon a two partslightly dsssonant harmony of gasping voices as we writhed andtwisted in pursuit of pleasure. Patti, meanwhile, was sucking myright nipple and fiddling with my left and the rapid ascension of myheat attained apogee and caused my eyes to roll up inside of my headas I panted and whimpered in bliss. Julie's eyes were also concealedunder her eyelids as she focused on the sensations our physicalexertions were eliciting from her nubbin. She rocked her hips fasterand faster as I shuddered in orgasmic convulsion again. She wasemitting high pitched grunts while she chased another injection ofendorphins into her system until she stifled a scream when herclimax knocked her upside the head.
Julie fell on her back to the bed while Patti and I made out. I sliddown the bed and had Patti sit on my face. I ate her hairy hotbutton to three or four orgasms as she squatted over me. The threeof us cuddled each other for a while as we waited for the THC tomake its way out of our systems. "I have friends who would love tomeet you," Julie told me. "Great!" I retorted. "We're going to havea get together at the home of one of them. You want to come?" "Thatsounds like fun!" I smiled.
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"Great, hon. Just keep it a secret sinceif it gets out it could hurt jobs and marriages," she insisted. "Noproblem, sweety. I'll definitely look forward to it. " I reassuredher. I took the info from her and then said that I didn't want tooverstay my welcome. I kissed both Patti and Julie goodbye and wenthome.
After dinner, Sonny called me and said he had gotten a summer job ata fast food outlet. He aimed to use the money to pay for insuranceso that his parents would allow him to drive the family car after hegot his license and then he wanted to save up to buy some used wheels. Hewas going to take the driver's test the following week. Icongratulated him on joining the workforce and told him to do hisbest.
Then he dropped this nugget on me: "I've been thinking about whatyou said about having a plan for myself. I watch guys in bands playand see how much they seem to be enjoying themselves and I wouldlike to try to be a musician. Can you teach me to play guitar?" Icould understand where he was coming from, having been there myself. I gave him a long lecture, though, about the need to know absolutelyeverything about playing the instrument and the equipmentsurrounding it (amps, effects, cables, parts, etc) and that itwas a pretty solitary endeavor that would require him to practice aminimum of two hours a day and take years to attain a professionallevel.
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I further reminded him of how expensive good instruments were(the cheaper foreign made guitars of the time, unlike now, werepretty much worthless) relative to the era. So I urged him to makesure he was serious about this because, at his age, he may have tochoose between having a car and dating and being a guitar player. The minimum wage in 1975 was only about $2 an hour.
Then he was going to have to pay for college. "Uh, I'm not sure I'mcut out for college," he averred. I warned him not only about howseldom anyone becomes a true rock star against the number of thosewho aspire to do so, but how times are changing and how jobsrequiring little more than a work ethic and a strong back were ontheir way out as the country shifted to a knowledge economy. Hefound that hard to get his head around and just flat out refused tobelieve that could ever be the case. "It's your funeral," I warnedhim. "Having a college degree would expand your job opportunitiesgreatly especially if you learn Japanese," I suggested. "Why shouldI learn Japanese? Who speaks that except people from Japan?" hechided. I said that Japan is a rising industrial power and wouldsoon compete heatedly with the U. S. , especially in the autoindustry. "You mean those roller skates they make?" he discounted. Ithen complained about just the utter shit that Detroit was makingand how those cars got too few miles to the gallon, especially withrising gas prices and tightening emissions legislation in the statein which we resided and that those regulations would only spread.
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"Don't take this wrong, Melody, but I think what you said is justbullshit. Look at the Charger you drive. Who the fuck would want todrive some piece of shit 4 cylinder bread box when they could have amuscle car?" This argument went on for a while and I just gave up. It was like someone justifying playing Russian Roulette because ofthe thrill of the sport of it. The capacity for delusion among thehuman race is both an awful and amazing thing to behold.
"Okay Sonny, when you get some money together to buy a guitar, anamp and some effects pedals I'll take you shopping and help you pickout your gear. " "That would be great, Melody. Thanks, babe. " "Justbe prepared for sticker shock," I alerted.
He also wanted to come over Tuesday, which was fine with me. Hearrived at around noon and I made a simple lunch (bacon sandwichesand orange juice). He had seen my gear before and even watched meplay it, but this time I took him into my music room, pulled out myStrat and lectured him on it. I showed him the parts of the guitar,what they did and who was known to use it. Then I did the same thingwith my Les Paul. "Okay, for a blowjob, tell me the differencebetween the pickups of the Strat and the Les Paul," I demanded.
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Hiseyes were test patterns even after I had just taught him about thetwo guitars. "Okay, tell me what the difference in the fretboardsbetween the two guitars was (the Strat had a maple neck andfretboard while the Gibson had a rosewood fretboard). "Uhhhh. . . . ""Are you sure you care enough to want to be a guitarist?" I snarkedwith daggers in my eyes. He could see the proverbial smoke that wasnow pouring out of my ears. "Listen Sonny, when I get together withthe other guitarist in my band, or any other guitarist anywhere, weare endlessly hashing over the tonal qualities of woods and strings,the speed or comfort of certain neck profiles, the character of thedistortion in different amps and amp tubes, what mixture of effectswe can use for given songs, etc. We are all insane tone chasers. Yeah, playing guitar and getting applauded for it is a blast, butjust like with being how you need to know everything about cars tobe a great mechanic, you have to be familiar not just with thephysical stuff around guitar, it really helps if you know a ton oftheory, too," I spelled out. "If you want to work at McDonald's therest of your life, that's your business. But you know you can bebetter than that. Don't just take what looks like the easiest roadout because it isn't as easy as you think. Half assing it ain'tgonna get you shit"
I picked up my Flying V and inculcated its features and who uses itfor what.
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I picked up my Telecaster and did the same. "Okay Sonny,tell me two guys who use Flying V's and two who use Telecasters," Isaid, my eyes on fire. "Uh, Michael Schenker and Lonnie Mack,whoever they are, use flying V's and James Burton and Roy Buchanan,whoever they are, too, use Telecasters," he correctly answered.
This went on for a while, as I repeatedly quizzed him on thingslike, "what problem in a single coil pickup does a humbuckerresolve?" "What kind of player usually uses ES 335'ss and what kindoften uses Teles?" "What is feedback?" I gave him some back issuesof Guitar Player to read and sent him home. I hope he understoodthat I was hard on him because I was impressing on him theimportance of going after everything you do hammer and tongs insteadof attempting to just sleepwalk your way through life and wouldn'twrite me off merely as a bitch he got to fuck.
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