Supernatural
2012-02-01
The following Monday, I was, as usual, sitting in one of thebench seats in the amphitheater playing my Strat when a guy camewalking up to me. "Hi!! I'm Pete!" he smiled, extending his hand. "Hi Pete," I acknowledged blandly, wondering in my head what hisagenda might be. "So I hear you're a hell of a guitar player," hebegan. "Thanks!" I grinned, albeit suspiciously. "Judging by the wayyou're dressed, it looks like you're into either hard rock orEnglish glam," he guessed. "Yeah, both actually," I informed him.
"I play bass and I'm looking to put a cover band together and maybemake us some money before I head off for college," he disclosed. "Soyou want to come over to my house and jam?" I respondedaffirmatively to that overture and he wrote instructions on how tofind his home in my notebook.
After school let out for the day, I went home, grabbed my Les Pauland put it on the backseat of my car along with the Strat, whichwere in their cases, and then placed a Marshall cabinet and one ofmy amp heads as well as my pedal board in the trunk and transportedthe lot over to Pete's residence, whereupon I loaded it into hisgarage, hooked it up, tuned up and we were ready for a musicalconversation. "What do you want to do?" he asked. "I don't know, " Iretorted. "Maybe 'Black Dog'?" "Yeah, I know that," he affirmed andwe ran through it, extending it out to basically show our chops offfor each other. Surprisingly, it was actually a pretty decentversion! Then we jammed over a simple II-V-I progression for a fewminutes. That ultimately petered out of its own accord and Iinquired if he knew "Highway Star. " He didn't, though he had heardthe song before.
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Consequently, I played it all the way through oncejust so he could get a visual of where all the changes were and thenI taught him the bassline to it since it wasn't particularlydifficult. That took a couple of hours before we had it fullynailed.
I queried if he had Yes' "Roundabout" in is repetoire. "I don'tknow, Chris Squire's playing is pretty complex," he whined. "I don'tthink I can do it. " "Look, man," I rejoindered, "Squire is one hellof a bassist, but compared to some jazz guys he's not THAT much of amonster," I asserted. "So you need to know his stuff. " I chose tolet the matter drop after that exchange and went into "La Grange. "He picked that up pretty quickly because it's just a basic bluestune that was made special by the fact that Billy Gibbons is such acool stylist. Pete asked me whose song it was and I told him. "ZZTop, huh? I'm going to have to check them out," he stated.
"Well look," I interjected. "I have a soundproof music room at home,so why don't you come over and I'll show you more stuff?" He agreedto that. I also revealed that I had placed an ad in a couple ofmagazines looking for musicians and he was interested to see whatwould come of that.
Saturday, Pete hauled his gear to my place.
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For some reason, I wasparticularly horny that day and while I taught Pete how to play"Freebird" and we jammed on more Zeppelin material and some BlackSabbath, my curiosity about what was in his trousers kept my vaginalwalls oiled up. When we got tired of blasting away, we debated whatwe should call our band and, after intense discussion, settled onAtomic Sunrise. Not a great name to be sure, but for a cover band itwould do.
Once that was settled, I looked him in the eye nervously. "Heylook," I started hesitantly, "I hope you won't think badly of me ifI ask you this, but you want to have sex?" "Woah," he blurted,obviously knocked off his moorings by this sudden turn in our shortrelationehip. I explained to him that I wasn't looking to have aboyfriend in the band, but that I was just really horny at thatmoment. He said "okay," but also admitted that he had never been tobed with a girl before even though he was already a 18 year oldjunior and had previous experience playing music. "No problem,sweety," I smiled brightly. "Just relax and let's have fun with it,"I suggested.
I folded my knees in front of him and undid and unzipped his jeansbefore pulling them and his boxers down to the floor. I rolled hisflaccid dick around in my righthand and then slid the tip of mytongue up and down and around it. It instantly came to life and Iinserted it into my mouth. I could feel it swelling with each tripmy lips made over its full, expanding length and it eventually grewto around seven inches as an increasing amount of his precum drippedon to my tongue and was swallowed into my stomach. I ratcheted upthe vigor of my head nodding and that resulted in him spasming ahuge, grunted load of his semen into my yapper. I gave him a longgander at his cream sitting on my tongue before disposing of it inmy tummy.
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I was REALLY hot for him now and I led him to my bedroom, where Ished my clothes, and pulled him on to my bed. We made out for a fewminutes before he smothered my nipples and drew some killer jolts ofpleasure out of them. I entreated him to eat me and I pointed outwhere my clit was along with elaborating on how I wanted it lickedand sucked. He set about his appointed duty and was successful atit, his ministrations creating several orgasms within me until Ifelt the emptiness inside me that badly needed to be filled by dickand basically ordered him to fuck me.
He snaked his way on top of me and I ushered his weapon into me, myvaginal muscles eagerly surrounding his meat tube. I held onto him while he screwed me, me needing every thrust of his hard onso much I could have been said to be desperate for it. As thesensations mounted so did my inability to harness my own breathing,culminating in a nice, mellow orgasm before he attained maximumstimulation tolerance and doused my love furnace with his lifegiving liquid.
We cuddled for a while afterward and then he went home. Pete indeeddidn't think ill of allowing him to bone me and we continued to jam on alot of different material, with me showing him other tracks he hadn'talready learned. Pete was a really good guy and so it was fun playingand sleeping with him.
Another month went by and responses to my ad began coming in. Of course,some of them were of the, "chicks playing guitar? Yeah right!" variety. Now think about this for a moment: in the pre-internet era, you had toactually write your message out longhand, fold the piece of paper youput it on, tuck it into an envelope, get a stamp for it and either walk acouple hundred yards to drop it into a mail box or take it to the postoffice and leave it there. So these people had so little going on intheir lives that they would make all this effort to just basically say,"chick guitar players suck!" Pathetic.
Fortunately, there were a few constructive responses that were from ourgeneral area.
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Pete and I ultimately auditioned a couple of drummers andsettled on Cliff Swann, a 6'3" 240 pound hulk of a blonde hairedskinsman who not only hammered the shit out of his kit, but wasfundamentally sound, too.
There was only one singer we tried out, Danny Hartzell, whose influenceswere Robert Plant and Steve Marriott. He also had the long blonde curlyhair on a skinny body thing going on with loads of power. It wasperhaps no surprise that he was raised in the surfer town of HuntingtonBeach. I told Pete, though, that I still wanted to bring in akeyboardist and second guitarist so that we wouldn't lose any rhythmicballs when I went to do a lead break plus it would enable us to do awider variety of songs.
That Sunday, Pete and I went shopping for proper PA, lighting andmonitor systems. I spent about $30,000 on gear that day, including a newbass rig for him. "Where are you getting all this money?" Peteinterrogated. "Honey," I said, "there are four things you never ask awoman about: her age, her weight, her money and whether she came. " Hegot a good laugh out of that.
We all began rehearsals and hashed out what songs we wanted to do in our set, coming up with a list of about 30.
I took care of the keyboard issue a couple of weeks afterward. There wasthis little hole in the wall club in the City of Orange thatoccasionally booked hard rock acts. Playing there one Friday was a groupcalled Blackbeard's Ghost. I didn't have anything better to do thatparticular night and looking at the name I figured that they would beappropriately heavy.
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Unfortunately, they must have known someone toobtain that booking because they stunk. Their material shouldn't havebeen allowed out of the garage. However, I did like the keyboardist,John Harris, who was armed with a Hammond B-3 organ, Moog synthesizerand Yamaha electric piano. He also played some rhythm guitar. I walkedup to him after the show and basically got him to admit that his bandsucked and wasn't going anywhere. He confessed that he joined them onlybecause he didn't have anything else going on at the time.
I convinced him that his only chance, at least at this juncture, to be apaid musician was to join my band. At 22, he was several years olderthan anyone in Atomic Sunrise. He nonetheless was willing to come downand check us out the next day and was pretty blown away by what he saw. He grabbed one of my guitars and jammed with us for a little while. Hewas really impressed by me, saying that I was miles better than anyother guitarist he had ever played with in his previous bands. So he wasin, though I was still advocating for another guitarist because whileJohn could definitely play guitar competently, he was pretty challengedby more complex solos.
John also knew a good sound guy who could do our live mixing and so webrought him on board. After that, we rehearsed for hours and hoursseveral times a week. I continued to have sex with Pete, too.
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He wouldhang back until everybody had left and then we would take a showertogether and head for bed. So Pete was a happy boy both musically andsexually and I have to say I was likewise well chuffed with mysituation.
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