Two big things happened in my life at once, and they led to the third thing that happened — a wicked, crazy, sexy thing.

The first two things: I got fired from my accounting job because of downsizing, and at almost the same time, I received an inheritance. Being unemployed panicked me. I would be screwed on rent, on my car payment. But less than 24 hours later, I found out a very elderly relative had left everything to his “favorite grand-niece.” I’d phoned Great Uncle Walter once a month for years and never failed to send him a Christmas card, but I hadn’t expected this.

He hadn’t left a fortune, but it was still a very tidy sum, enough that I could take some time off before looking for a new job. At age 27, I hadn’t had a vacation or even a break in years. I was suddenly sick of my straitlaced life.

Time to do something for me. But… what?

It was surreal having my days and nights free. I wandered in a daze. I wasn’t in a relationship. I hadn’t had a real girlfriend in two years, and the occasional random pickup or night alone with my vibrator wasn’t very satisfying. Trying to think of fun things I used to enjoy, I remembered going to dive clubs in college to see all sorts of acts. So, one night I hit the warehouse district and went into this seedy bar to hear some live music.

The joint was wonderfully sleazy, full of punks and hipsters. I sipped a whiskey as the lights dimmed, and a quartet erupted onto the club’s cramped stage. Guitar strings shrieked, drums were pounded, and bass thumped so loud I felt it in my bones. At first it was just a wall of noise, but I quickly recognized the genuine musical talent behind all that thrashing.

A spotlight picked out the lead vocalist, who was also shredding on a guitar. My heart did a funny leap in my chest, and I went immediately and deliciously damp in my panties. The woman heading the band was a rock-diva goddess come to frantic life. She wore a beat-up black leather jacket gleaming with safety pins. Her red tights hugged her toned legs. She stomped around in black biker boots as she wailed into the mic and tore electrified music from her guitar strings.

She was totally fucking hot.

I was completely captivated, staring at her and practically drooling. She had spiky ink-black hair, where mine was long and blonde. She wore heavy eyeliner and fierce purple lipstick, while I was almost barefaced.

I found myself moving into the eager crowd before the stage. The other musicians were very capable with their instruments, but it was plainly this electric female who was the band’s driving force.

I got as near as I could. People were screaming around me. I gazed up at her. Her luscious tits heaved under a white T-shirt, the fabric sweat-soaked enough that I could see her pebble-hard nipples. I wanted to nibble those so bad. I wanted to do everything to her and with her.

One song blazed to is searing conclusion. The quartet paused. She breathed hard into the mic, a grin splitting her lovely face. Quickly, she introduced her bandmates, finishing up by saying, “And I’m Brooke!” At that same moment, she looked down and our eyes seemed to lock.

So… I was madly in lust with Brooke, I decided then and there. Some part of me knew this was a weird fixation, coming at a unique interval in my life. But I wanted Brooke. I wanted to bury my face between her lush thighs and tongue her pussy until she screamed.

And that was how I ended up following the band from town to town, and venue to trashy venue. They always got big turnouts and were on the cusp of breaking through to the big time. This tour was going to end in Los Angeles, where they were scheduled to appear on a popular podcast.

Yet, despite my determination, I still never got a chance to actually meet Brooke. To talk face-to-face with her. To tell her how awesome I thought she was, and how badly I wanted to lick every inch of her gorgeous body.

The band hit their gigs guerrilla-style. They rolled in, stormed the stage, played their set, and fled. Yet I saw her night after night from the audience. She would seem to grin at me during a song, and a desperate thrill would set my pussy quivering.

It was an insane vagabond existence for me. I even got a leather jacket of my own. But just before Los Angeles, I wondered if I was being a complete fool. Hell, I didn’t even know if Brooke liked women.

As I came to the latest venue, I paused at the entrance, doubting everything. Across the street was another bar. Impulsively, I turned and crossed toward it. Maybe I should think about heading back home and restarting my normal life.

I nursed a couple drinks while the band — presumably — played across the street. Strangely, I felt like I was letting Brooke down. The bar was dim, with a bartender who seemed to spend most of his time in the back.

Just as I was deciding against ordering another drink, the door opened and a taut figure in boots and a leather jacket strode in. Brooke!

Nobody else recognized her, but I gaped from down the bar as she ordered a drink. Her spiky hair still gleamed with sweat. I studied the tight outline of her ass atop the barstool.

Suddenly, she turned, and like before our eyes seemed to lock. Except this time I knew she saw me.

“What’re you doing here?” I blurted, knowing she and the band always took off right away after a gig.

Brooke said, “I’m nervous about the gig in LA. I needed a quiet drink. Some time away from the band.” She eyed me. “I looked for you tonight. Didn’t you see the show?”

I was stunned. “You looked for… me?”

She knocked back the drink and walked over. On stage she spun like a dervish. Now she slunk toward me like a sexy jungle cat. Desire welled up in me, tingling my skin and moistening my lonely pussy.

“I always look for you,” she purred. “I keep promising myself that one night I’m going to bag that fine-looking babe.” She looked around with a mischievous grin. “Tonight’s that night. You game?” I nodded. “Well, then come on!”

She grabbed my leather jacket and pulled me off my stool. Instead of heading for the door, though, we went to the back of the underlit bar. The bartender was MIA again. Brooke pulled open a door. Dim stairs descended. She tugged me along, and I followed her down into a brick-walled cellar.

Only a single dusty bulb burned among the shelves and old crates when we reached the bottom of the steps. My heart pounded frantically. You don’t expect fantasies to come true.

“My tongue flicked her, my teeth gently grazing her nipples.”

She turned to me, grabbed my jacket once again and yanked me close. There was a second of breathless anticipation, then our mouths came mashing together. Our lips parted, and I tasted her tongue. It was a deep, grinding kiss, our breath and spit mingling.

I was jammed tight up against her firm, beautiful body. I heard the creak of leather on the musty air. Her hands went up under my jacket as I groped my way down her back to boldly cup her ass cheeks.

She seized my tits, squeezing me through my shirt, exciting my nipples to stiff attention. I groaned into her open mouth. My hands kneaded her backside through her sweat-damp tights. She must have just come offstage.

We shed our jackets. Her nips were prominent against her T-shirt. Feeling brazen, I peeled the shirt off her body. Her tits were gloriously firm mounds, topped with lovely pinkish nipples that looked delicious.

I bent and licked a path up between her sweet hillocks, tasting her tangy perspiration. I put my mouth first on one breast, then the other. My tongue flicked her, my teeth gently grazing her nipples. She responded with ecstatic jerks and low moans. I sucked her harder until she wound her fingers into my long blonde hair and grunted.

When I straightened up, her eyes were blazing within their cocoons of smeared eyeliner. She stripped my shirt away and grabbed my tits like she was a mountain climber and I was the cliffside. Her grip was strong. I squirmed with pleasure. She bent and gave my tits a good suckling, and then we kissed once again, tongues battling like mad.

Some part of me still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Even when I’d set out to follow her band, the unadventurous side of myself who’d been in accounting too long had doubted I would ever truly catch up with this woman, no matter how desperately I craved her. She had seemed almost mythic, something unattainable. Certainly, I’d never imagined she would notice me, much less want me.

But Brooke’s desire was unmistakable as she ground her crotch shamelessly against mine. Tendrils of hot joy were radiating outward from my slick pussy. I had tasted her sweat. Now I wanted to drink her sex juices. I wanted to swallow the essence of this beautiful, vibrant female. I wanted to feel her come against my tongue.

Before I could move to get her out of those tights, she yanked my jeans down to my calves, pushed me up onto a pile of boxes, and hunkered down between my legs. She gazed, literally cuntstruck, at my shaved cleft. The gelled tips of her black hair skimmed against my inner thighs.

It was all I could do not to shriek at the top of my lungs when her tongue darted up into my cunt lips. We had closed the door at the top of the stairs behind us, but I didn’t want the bartender or anybody else barging in. So I bit my lip as waves of carnal delight swept through my body.

Brooke’s nimble tongue parted my folds. She lapped her way up and down my furrow, grazing the sensitive surface. Her hot breath tickled and teased me. I wanted her tongue deep inside me. My fingers gripped the edges of the wooden box. I shuddered with need. The teasing pleasure mounted and mounted until it filled me up, like water into a balloon. I felt myself ready to burst.

At last, she jammed her tongue up into me. I humped helplessly against her face, smearing my wetness over her chin. She zeroed in on my clit, flicking the swollen nub, plucking increasing pleasure from me.

Instinctively, I grabbed hold of her spiky-haired head, clutching a fistful of the crunchy black strands. I pressed my pussy even harder against her mouth. The miracle of the scene touched me, even as the sexual pleasure raged. I had a rock goddess’s tongue up inside me. It was unbelievable.

But an instant later I made a believer of myself as a climax like the crescendo of one of her fiercest songs ripped through my soul. I came hugely, gushing into Brooke’s hungry mouth. I heard her lapping and growling, taking every drop of me she could find.

Post-orgasmic sensations were like pops of electricity on my flesh as I sagged back against the stacked crates. Before I could relax, Brooke, still kneeling, grabbed my hips and spun me. I was doubled over the boxes, face forward. Brooke’s fingers spread my ass cheeks, and her tongue swiped a wet trail right up my valley and over my exposed butthole.

I yelped, unable to contain the sound. Brooke’s tongue smeared around my ring. The sensitive opening trembled, and a lovely vulnerable pleasure seethed through me. I savored the sensations. Brooke fearlessly drilled my opening, sending shots of warmth up my back passage.

She snuffled and licked, making her own groans of pleasure. The disbelief returned to me, as if my brain wouldn’t let me fully accept that a talented important musician on the edge of stardom was eating out my ass! But the evidence was undeniable. So was the new orgasm rioting up over me. My legs shook under me, knees knocking the wood.

A delicious decadent ecstasy took hold of me. It was a wicked nasty climax, one that raised gooseflesh all over my body. With Brooke’s tongue in my asshole, my pussy poured forth anew.

Behind me, she was panting and staggering back. I forced myself upright, stepping out of my boots and jeans. Brooke, her face drenched and gleaming in the low dusty light, grinned at me.

I grinned back.

Then I went to her and helped her out of her boots and her tights, now hopelessly sopping at the crotch. I grabbed an old sack off a shelf and spread it on the floor. It was as close to a bed as we were going to get. I lay down and told her to squat over my face.

For a moment she gazed down at me, taking all of me in, her pretty face lit with appreciation. I wondered what other groupies she had enjoyed, and then wondered if I was really something special to her. Maybe…

But for now I was more than content to see that sweet dripping pussy descending toward my mouth as she went into a squat over me. I inhaled her ripe scent. I thought of how often I’d seen this sinewy body writhing on stage, how many times I’d fingered myself in my motel room bed to thoughts of tasting this molten honeypot.

The reality was at last here. I put out my tongue and traced her slick slit. She jounced on her knees at the contact. My tongue tingled with her flavor. I lapped at her cleft some more. Her dark pubes tickled my nose.

Her hot interior awaited. I finally slid my tongue through her entrance. I tasted her silky hole as juices spilled over my lips. I felt her warm fluid on my chin, in my throat. I stabbed up further into her. She wailed like an alley cat.

It was when I had at her luscious engorged clit that she started grinding herself down onto my open mouth. I speared her even deeper. She reached down and grabbed my hair again. She forcefully humped my face. I loved the strength in her. I loved her taste.

I also loved when she snarled down at me, “Eat that cunt, you hot little bitch! Yeah! Yeah! Get that fuckin’ tongue right up there!”

More than happy to oblige, I licked and sucked at her. But I wanted to taste even more of her, so I reached up and grasped her hips, shifting her so I could lap away at her asshole, as well.

She went crazy for that, bucking on top of my face. My tongue flashed from pussy to ass and back again, in a growing blur. As Brooke started to climax, she babbled more beautiful obscenities. Her pleasure was radiant as she came streaming all over my lips and tongue. I drank and drank, sating myself with her flavor.

When we dressed and marched up the stairs, Brooke nonchalantly threw a 20 on the bar as the bartender sputtered at us. I was happy and content. I had succeeded in my quest. Now it would be back to my old staid life, right?

The LA appearance did wonders for the band, and their popularity increased tremendously. Brooke stayed in touch with me. Last time she flew up to see me for a torrid fuck session, she mentioned that her band was raking in so much money they needed a full-time accountant. Was I interested?

Take a fucking guess.

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