Chapter 1: FRISKY

EXHALE AND MOVE ON

On occasion, nothing gave me greater pleasure than a wide crystal tumbler filled with my favorite Jura single malt whiskey on the rocks, a firm promise of a warm woman to lie with, and a long night of carnal adventure ahead.

When I wasn't touring my life was mostly as dull as a London sky in winter, and sometimes, I had time on my hands. That was when an invitation to a great party made me feel like the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.

As I glanced up through a thick haze of heavy cigarette smoke, I noticed a flat-chested waif-like blonde with a cute smile sizing me up. The way she looked at me was tempting, but I already had a hot little groupie acting frisky as all get out on my lap; then I figured one more could only guarantee me more fun.

"Come here sweetheart, there's room for a skinny one," I said, beckoning her into my spare arm.

Fame in the music industry had brought a full-on rock-and-roll lifestyle and hundreds of sexual experiences, but a single chick in my bed rarely set me on fire the way it used to. Being an adventurous, experimental guy, I'd had found as time went on there were fewer sexual boundaries... and I only had one hard limit. I'd never knowingly mess with a married couple.

Most of the groupies I picked up were only too happy to be in my company and I suspected the two I'd selected that night would be up for most of my suggestions. I watched as the slim girl uncrossed her long slender legs and rose to her feet before walking toward me.

It was then I realized how lanky she was, maybe six feet or more, and my lips stretched into a wicked smile when I imagined those pins wrapped around my back. My cock twitched in my pants and my semi-erection wasn't all that easy to hide.

It wasn't long from the moment I laid my hands on her body until we migrated back to the privacy of my penthouse apartment and the debauched fun I'd anticipated with the girls well and truly began. My luck had most definitely struck a high because I'd never met two more uninhibited females in all my time with the band. Their sexual appetites were almost insatiable, and it only took them around four hours to wear me down.

They knew how they liked it and what they wanted, and they weren't afraid to ask for it... or take it for the most part. Their sexual confidence had appealed to me and I'd found that a real turn on. By the time we'd tried out about half the positions in the Karma Sutra they both lay there smiling. Personally, I'd felt sated but unsettled - then again this had come as no surprise because I'd been left with the same nagging emotional trench in my soul for quite some time.

For years I'd been a single guy living the dream of most other guys on the planet. Being part of the rock scene, I'd been privileged enough to be the front man for one of the world's most famous rock bands. Due to our fame, I'd say around three quarters of the female population wanted to get laid by one of the four members of our band, and the other twenty five percent were either too young to know we existed or too old to care. As arrogant as it sounds, I've never met a woman I couldn't have.

Strange as it may sound, I still had principles, it was my right to be promiscuous was one thing, but other musicians leaving a spouse at home and being promiscuous was another. My opinion was that there was no girlfriend to disappoint, and I had no family to tie me down. I was a free agent, so how I lived my life on the road was no one's business but mine. However, as loose as I was in the sack, if I knew someone was committed to someone else, I steered clear.

When I first became famous, I used to wake up and pinch myself back then and I'd think, 'Damn this is my life'. This thought had usually been followed by a flutter of excitement that stirred in my belly and grew until it had almost burst out of my chest. Then, as those who last long enough in the business know, the thrill of fame wears off and the zest you once had for chasing that next high, peters out.

Things started to change and when a lot of the guys who had lived the lifestyle alongside me had found partners and settled down, it made me think in more depth about my own future. Still, I believed married life wasn't for me, and I had valid personal reasons for hanging back... I just couldn't figure out what to do about them to my own satisfaction.

It was one thing to strike it lucky with one female who used my body like a guy would do, but to find two who took turns like a tag team in heat had felt off-the-charts hot. I figured it had to have helped that the females involved were both as high as kites on something because the heaviness in their eyes added a certain eroticism to the whole scene for me.

During our night I came a few times and if I'm honest, I'd felt as if they had almost shaved some girth off my dick from all the frantic friction it had taken, but like the champ I am, I gave as good as I got, and by the time I was done they both looked like hot, sweaty messes and lay spread all over me breathless and exhausted.

Nevertheless, even as I fell asleep, they had still groped my dick, massaged my balls, and sucked at my nipples. Sometimes living the life of a fucked-up rock star didn't feel so bad.

Gradually, over the years, my body had become sexually attuned, and it had proven no easy task to get me off. I'd had a lot of sex and I guess because of that it had become less easy to feel that thrill of excited about getting laid.

Sometimes sex had compared to a drug high if the connection felt right, and at other times the act of sex had been a purely mechanical function, which was all about sticking it in, pulling it out, and wiping it - a robotic means to an end. Most men would say you can never have too much sex... but there were times when I'd thought that was my problem; that I'd grown a partial immunity to the sensation of desire. Then sometimes perhaps it was mind telling my body I'd had enough.