I'm Sorry If Your Heart Has No More Room
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Joel Plaskett
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
850
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Joel Plaskett
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
850
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I'm Sorry If Your Heart Has No More Room
Disclaimer: I do not (unfortunately) personally know or own Joel Plaskett or any lyrics represented in the story, title, summary, or otherwise. I love Joel and if he asks me to take this down I will.
Pick up at the place where we are
The place where we last spoke
Wring out all the memories
And the sadness they invoke
Life your spirits to the light
Under a magnifying glass
The distance has grown wider
From the front row of the classroom
****
He never knew what to make of his life. The times when things were going right for her were the times when things were going wrong for him and vice versa. As if to make matters worse, they hadn't actually spoken in person for a long while. It had basically been postcards and calls from payphones for the past three years. She had already made it. Made it in terms of Canadian musicianship.
He couldn't remain mad at her for his mistakes, yet he couldn't bring himself to completely forgive her for leaving him. She had given him the choice of coming with her, being with her, having both a life and a career with her. But, foolishly, he had thrown her dreams away, crushed both their fantasies, and left his heart to rot beneath a hamper of dirty laundry. The stupid part of it all was the reason. The main reason he had let himself be abandoned was his love for his own band. His band that was never going to make it. You know, that band that was foolishly misled into local recognition. Actually, hardy anyone outside of Nova Scotia knew who they were. And Joel himself had not been laid in a very long time.
Truth be told, he had not felt at all sexually aroused or sexually alive since her somewhat sudden departure. Their last lovemaking session had been hurried, messy, in the backseat of the van she had to leave in later that night. It had been in the middle of the fuckig afternoon for Christ's sake.
He could almost determine that she was sleping around. How could she not have been? She was fairly attractive, a rockstar, a budding alcoholic. He was surprised every time he recieved something from her that acknowledged his existence. She often whined about how lonely it was being up there at the top with no one to share her success with. But he knew her too well to fall for her cheap game. She only wanted to be with him. And ... honestly, was that so wrong?
Joel, however, felt completely different about the whole thing. He couldn't give in. He couldn't go running back to her like some depressed schoolgirl trying to get over her boyfriend. He couldn't do that. No way, buddy. No fucking way.
****
I have saved all your postcards
I have glued them to my wall
Every morning before breakfast
I reread them all
Messages are coming in from
Places far away
But I am too devoted
To listen to what they are saying
****
Thinking about her made him moody. Trying to remember what she smelled like made him dizzy. She probably smelled different now. Thinking about the way her hair looked in the light of his room made him smile. Had she dyed her hair? Probably. Closing his eyes and picturing her standing there forced him through a lot of pain. Picturing her standing there outside his door, wanting someone to turn to, someone to run to, made him teary. Picturing her standing there naked made him ... horny?
No. He firmly tried to push these thoughts away. He felt a sharp tingle go up his spine as he remembered the way her skin felt under his hands. The way her hands felt on his thighs after a night of roughly running them up and down her guitar ... His head felt hot as he remembered her shapely body, the way her clothes hung so perfectly, the way her eyes twinkled when she knew exactly what she wanted and was prepared to do it for him, the way her tits ...
No! He wrenched his mind away from thoughts such as these. Why was he still thinking of her in ways like this? She more than likely wasn't thinking about him the same way! He sighed and looked over at his wall. He had tacked up everything. Postcards, pictures, articles, interviews, press clippings, everything possible. He thought about her constantly, every day. She hadn't phoned him or sent him a postcard in three months. What was she doing? Where was she?
Was she too busy touring? Making music? Recording? Fucking? ...
Thoughts of her depressed him and he threw himself on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling he had stared at many a time while she silently sucked on his ...
No!
Joel could feel himself getting tingly and warm all over as he remembered her hands clawing at his back while he laid on top of her, touching her, fucking her. He shivered. Why?
Then again, why not? What could it possibly matter, thinking of her? What could go wrong if he let himself give in? He had to. For her. For him. For both of them.
Joel slowly started taking off his shirt, remembering what she had looked like with her shirt off. The way her bra held up her tits in that wonderful way. The way she looked without her bra. The way her nipples peaked towards him when he took off her pants. The way her hips pressed into his as he kissed her with his tongue proudly caressing hers.
His hands were on his belt now. He undid it and swiftly yanked off his jeans, throwing them across the room. He ran a hand through is hair, remembering how she used to love doing that. He started drawing circles on his inner thigh, teasing himself, pretending it was her. She was such a damn tease. The way she would touch everything except what he desperately needed her to touch, then start working on herself. She loved seeing him get worked up, all hot and bothered. Seeing his flushed cheeks, his tented boxers, his glistening lips.
He loved the way her slit just begged for him, the way she would deftly dominate him, without a care in the world for anything but her and the moment.
Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled his boxers down to his knees and touched the tip of his manhood with one finger, feeling the slightly wet precum. He smiled, remembering their first encounter, and firmly grasped his hard cock in his right hand, lightly massaging it at first, the way she always did.
Somewhere in the background, the phone rang.
****
I am lacking the power
To haul your line back home
But would it hurt less
To be shirtless
and shine like vintage chrome?
Practice your dominion
Exercise your poise and grace
But once you affect my heart
And vanish without a trace
****
At first, Joel didn't move, just kept on doing what he was doing. Let the machine pick it up for Christ's sake. The person on the other line must have hung up the phone before the machine could pick it up, so he didn't really give a damn who was trying to interrupt his current state of mind.
He moaned once. Twice. "Mmm ..." as he slowly reached his left hand down to cup his scrotum and gently rub his balls together. He let the palm of his hand rub the vein under his manhood, which caused him to emit another moan, this one tinier than the others. His cock felt bigger than usual, harder than usual. He thought if he kept this up, he wouldn't be able to hold it in any longer. So he slowed down. Sniffed around desperatly for her scent. He kept it up for over fifteen minutes, basically proud of himself for holding on for that extended amount of time. A big shiver coursed through his system, shaking his entire body as he cried out for more.
He thought maybe he heard footsteps in the kitchen as he got closer to his release, his encore, his final act. But he was too wound up now to quit. To hell with his bandmates. If they heard him, so what? He could tll them he was having phone sex or something ... phone sex ... with HER ...
The thought of her wound his mind tighter, put his body more on the edge. He closed his eyes, bit his lip. His hand put a more firm grip on his cock, tightening around it, moving faster and faster until ...
His body tensed up the split second before he let go. At the peak of his rather intense orgasm, he screamed her name. His cock hit his body and sprayed all over his stomach. He relaxed back into his pillow and let his release go through him, shuddering the entire time, moaning her name over and over.
A noise came from the doorway. He looked up.
"Well hello to you too." There she was, smirking and leaning against the door frame in a way that only she could.
His cock twitched at the sound of her voice, and she noticed, stating pointedly, "I see you have a problem that only I have the answer to."
She slammed the door shut behind her. The game had finally begun.
Pick up at the place where we are
The place where we last spoke
Wring out all the memories
And the sadness they invoke
Life your spirits to the light
Under a magnifying glass
The distance has grown wider
From the front row of the classroom
****
He never knew what to make of his life. The times when things were going right for her were the times when things were going wrong for him and vice versa. As if to make matters worse, they hadn't actually spoken in person for a long while. It had basically been postcards and calls from payphones for the past three years. She had already made it. Made it in terms of Canadian musicianship.
He couldn't remain mad at her for his mistakes, yet he couldn't bring himself to completely forgive her for leaving him. She had given him the choice of coming with her, being with her, having both a life and a career with her. But, foolishly, he had thrown her dreams away, crushed both their fantasies, and left his heart to rot beneath a hamper of dirty laundry. The stupid part of it all was the reason. The main reason he had let himself be abandoned was his love for his own band. His band that was never going to make it. You know, that band that was foolishly misled into local recognition. Actually, hardy anyone outside of Nova Scotia knew who they were. And Joel himself had not been laid in a very long time.
Truth be told, he had not felt at all sexually aroused or sexually alive since her somewhat sudden departure. Their last lovemaking session had been hurried, messy, in the backseat of the van she had to leave in later that night. It had been in the middle of the fuckig afternoon for Christ's sake.
He could almost determine that she was sleping around. How could she not have been? She was fairly attractive, a rockstar, a budding alcoholic. He was surprised every time he recieved something from her that acknowledged his existence. She often whined about how lonely it was being up there at the top with no one to share her success with. But he knew her too well to fall for her cheap game. She only wanted to be with him. And ... honestly, was that so wrong?
Joel, however, felt completely different about the whole thing. He couldn't give in. He couldn't go running back to her like some depressed schoolgirl trying to get over her boyfriend. He couldn't do that. No way, buddy. No fucking way.
****
I have saved all your postcards
I have glued them to my wall
Every morning before breakfast
I reread them all
Messages are coming in from
Places far away
But I am too devoted
To listen to what they are saying
****
Thinking about her made him moody. Trying to remember what she smelled like made him dizzy. She probably smelled different now. Thinking about the way her hair looked in the light of his room made him smile. Had she dyed her hair? Probably. Closing his eyes and picturing her standing there forced him through a lot of pain. Picturing her standing there outside his door, wanting someone to turn to, someone to run to, made him teary. Picturing her standing there naked made him ... horny?
No. He firmly tried to push these thoughts away. He felt a sharp tingle go up his spine as he remembered the way her skin felt under his hands. The way her hands felt on his thighs after a night of roughly running them up and down her guitar ... His head felt hot as he remembered her shapely body, the way her clothes hung so perfectly, the way her eyes twinkled when she knew exactly what she wanted and was prepared to do it for him, the way her tits ...
No! He wrenched his mind away from thoughts such as these. Why was he still thinking of her in ways like this? She more than likely wasn't thinking about him the same way! He sighed and looked over at his wall. He had tacked up everything. Postcards, pictures, articles, interviews, press clippings, everything possible. He thought about her constantly, every day. She hadn't phoned him or sent him a postcard in three months. What was she doing? Where was she?
Was she too busy touring? Making music? Recording? Fucking? ...
Thoughts of her depressed him and he threw himself on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling he had stared at many a time while she silently sucked on his ...
No!
Joel could feel himself getting tingly and warm all over as he remembered her hands clawing at his back while he laid on top of her, touching her, fucking her. He shivered. Why?
Then again, why not? What could it possibly matter, thinking of her? What could go wrong if he let himself give in? He had to. For her. For him. For both of them.
Joel slowly started taking off his shirt, remembering what she had looked like with her shirt off. The way her bra held up her tits in that wonderful way. The way she looked without her bra. The way her nipples peaked towards him when he took off her pants. The way her hips pressed into his as he kissed her with his tongue proudly caressing hers.
His hands were on his belt now. He undid it and swiftly yanked off his jeans, throwing them across the room. He ran a hand through is hair, remembering how she used to love doing that. He started drawing circles on his inner thigh, teasing himself, pretending it was her. She was such a damn tease. The way she would touch everything except what he desperately needed her to touch, then start working on herself. She loved seeing him get worked up, all hot and bothered. Seeing his flushed cheeks, his tented boxers, his glistening lips.
He loved the way her slit just begged for him, the way she would deftly dominate him, without a care in the world for anything but her and the moment.
Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled his boxers down to his knees and touched the tip of his manhood with one finger, feeling the slightly wet precum. He smiled, remembering their first encounter, and firmly grasped his hard cock in his right hand, lightly massaging it at first, the way she always did.
Somewhere in the background, the phone rang.
****
I am lacking the power
To haul your line back home
But would it hurt less
To be shirtless
and shine like vintage chrome?
Practice your dominion
Exercise your poise and grace
But once you affect my heart
And vanish without a trace
****
At first, Joel didn't move, just kept on doing what he was doing. Let the machine pick it up for Christ's sake. The person on the other line must have hung up the phone before the machine could pick it up, so he didn't really give a damn who was trying to interrupt his current state of mind.
He moaned once. Twice. "Mmm ..." as he slowly reached his left hand down to cup his scrotum and gently rub his balls together. He let the palm of his hand rub the vein under his manhood, which caused him to emit another moan, this one tinier than the others. His cock felt bigger than usual, harder than usual. He thought if he kept this up, he wouldn't be able to hold it in any longer. So he slowed down. Sniffed around desperatly for her scent. He kept it up for over fifteen minutes, basically proud of himself for holding on for that extended amount of time. A big shiver coursed through his system, shaking his entire body as he cried out for more.
He thought maybe he heard footsteps in the kitchen as he got closer to his release, his encore, his final act. But he was too wound up now to quit. To hell with his bandmates. If they heard him, so what? He could tll them he was having phone sex or something ... phone sex ... with HER ...
The thought of her wound his mind tighter, put his body more on the edge. He closed his eyes, bit his lip. His hand put a more firm grip on his cock, tightening around it, moving faster and faster until ...
His body tensed up the split second before he let go. At the peak of his rather intense orgasm, he screamed her name. His cock hit his body and sprayed all over his stomach. He relaxed back into his pillow and let his release go through him, shuddering the entire time, moaning her name over and over.
A noise came from the doorway. He looked up.
"Well hello to you too." There she was, smirking and leaning against the door frame in a way that only she could.
His cock twitched at the sound of her voice, and she noticed, stating pointedly, "I see you have a problem that only I have the answer to."
She slammed the door shut behind her. The game had finally begun.