First Encounter
Suck for Your Solution.
Marilyn wrapped an arm around Twiggy’s waist, and walked him up to the side of the stage. As they went up they could feel the heat rising and emanating from the crowd thriving on the floor. Twiggy stood to the side ready to pick up his bass, he tried his best not to stare so hard even though his torso… and his lips, kept his constant attention. He waited for his cue.
Manson pulled off his black long sleeved shirt, baring his tattooed and slim upper body. White skin, glowing young, and long raven hair sticking to his painted face. Before he even placed his mouth at the microphone, ready to recite what would’ve been sinister poetry… there came whistle after whistle from the crowd. All for the likes of Twiggy.
Marilyn gave him a sideward glanced, winking at him and nearly slipping a laugh between his teeth. Yet, Twiggy couldn’t have been anymore pissed off at all of the excitement.
The rest of the band was starting to take the stage and Pogo was running around like a Cancer patient gone mad ( which was a festivity in itself ), but to add to the enthusiasm:
Twiggy lowered his spider-webbed tights to his ankles, lifted his dress, and exposed himself fully to the amused crowd.
Thinking that it would turn the crowd off, it only did the opposite, as with Manson, (who in all cases had to take things into an entirely different level). As he could hear rumors already being spread through the club about the band, Manson went down on his knees and pulled Twiggy, along with his dick, extremely close to his mouth.
Guitars were screeching the sound of “Cake and Sodomy”, as he ran his tongue over the head of his cock. Twiggy nearly buckled over, raking his hands through Manson’s black mass of hair. His moans couldn’t be heard as he arched his hips, and the future Antichrist began to use one hand at the base to pleasure him, his other on the curve of his hip.
But was it just simply gimmick? With the perfect timing, at the perfect place? Was it just something Manson enjoyed doing for the publicity?
Twiggy put this thought to the back of his mind, as his band-mate’s burgundy lips curved so gently around his girth, deep throating him slowly and agonizingly.
As he almost couldn’t bare to stand it, he tried to back away, grabbing a hold of the microphone to steady himself, giving Manson the warning that if he didn’t stop: He’d come right there in his mouth.
Standing up and wiping at the corner of his lips, Marilyn flicked his tongue provocatively out at the audience, placing two fingers into his mouth. Twiggy quickly covered his package with his dress, and ripped the tights as he pulled them back up to his small waist.
His erection was irritating him still. It was poking the inner lining of his tights, and with Manson still beside him, it wasn’t going to just disappear.
Seductively Marilyn ran his wet fingers along Twiggy’s lower stomach, leaving a damp mark on the tablecloth-like dress and brought the other close to his body.
He whispered huskily into his friend’s ear, and let his tongue lap at his un-pierced lobe,
“I’m not finished with you yet.”
To be continued.