The hunky guy, Darrell, walked into the room and slid his shorts off. His cock was hard from watching Jason and I going at it. He dispatched that thunderstick into my wanton cunt. He was only about half an inch longer than Jason, but nearly twice as thick. This exerted more pressure on my vaginal walls and he didn't care about my pleasure at all. He pounded the shit out of me and I came like a hurricane twice before he gushed his wad into my sloppy, humid marsh. "Man, I'm glad I invited you!" he grinned like the cat who just got the canary. "By the way, your cookies killed!" I thanked him for the compliment, went to the bathroom to wipe the cum from my opening and inner thighs, got dressed and, together, after he locked the door behind us, we went downstairs and back to the party.

I thought that Darrell would try to pull some other bird after he did me, but we talked for a little while after that. He was interested in the fact I was a guitarist who played hard rock, which not a lot of women did at the time. He  went into a back room of the apartment, brought out an acoustic guitar that had definitely seen better days and we went out on to the front patio. I tuned it up as best I could (judging by the tone of the strings, they hadn't been changed in 20 years. "Dude, this thing is hopeless. I have one of my guitars in my car," I said and retrieved a cheap Epiphone and a glass slide from it. I brought it just in case some guitars came out, being the showoff I am. I went into Zeppelin's "Over the Hills and Far Away. I didn't even try to sing because I was okay at background vocals and that was about it. Then I did John Lee Hooker's "One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer" since Hooker talked his way through most of that tune rather than sang like George Thorogood would decades later. He got a kick out of it since he hadn't heard it before. A couple more people came out and I decided to play the virtuoso card and did "Roundabout" and "Your Move" by Yes. It sounded cool with the frequencies bouncing off of of the concrete patio surface and wall as well as the stucco duplex. More people drifted out and now I had an audience of about a dozen. I put "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You" by Zep next on the menu and followed that with "Time in a Bottle" from Jim Croce. Now EVERYBODY was outdoors in the comfortably cool night air as I performed  an acoustic version of Deep Purple's "Lazy." Darell then requested I do the John Lee Hooker tune again and everybody dug it. I succeeded that with Cat Steven's "Peace Train." The concentration I needed to do all this sobered me up completely (though it helped that I wasn't that high to begin with).

I thought that was a good note to end on, but they wanted more, so I took a run at Neil Young's "Old Man" and Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi." It was now 11:30. They still wanted more and someone fetched more beers, so I guess I was going to be out there for a while. So what else could I do but "Stairway to Heaven"? In the wake of that was Aerosmith's "Dream On" and the Cream version of Robert Johnson's "Crossroads." That was finally it and I told the party goers that if they knew anyone who needed a cover band to let me know. Then I informed them about our show at the American Legion hall in a town near the one I live in the following Friday while warning the girls that we played hard rock and not the kind of material I just played for them.

At our rehearsal Saturday afternoon, we practiced the new tunes I had taught them and then I told them to learn three more, 'Aqualung," "Cross-Eyed Mary" and "Locomotive Breath," all by Jethro Tull. I can't believe it slipped my mind to add these songs to our repetoire. Duhhhh. We talked about having an acoustic part of our set and recounted to them my experience at the party I went to. There was quite a bit of debate as to whether that really matched the direction of the band. We  thus put it off for later discussion.

After everyone left, I went over to Bobby and Nick's. I asked them if Frank and Jim could also help out with security for our upcoming concert. We would offer them the same deal, $35 plus a case of beer for seven hours. Bobby said they would talk to Frank and Jim about it. It was also a good excuse for me to see Jim again. 

The following Wednesday, we took delivery of our stage and the new drum riser. Guys from the shop that I had build them showed our road crew how to put them together and activate the lights in the riser.

When we loaded in and assembled the stage and the riser Friday, it made the way we presented ourselves look so much cleaner and slick. The stage had routs in it for the flash pots and so we no longer had to duct tape them down. Instead, they were bolted into it and all the cables were now largely hidden rather than duct taped to the stage. Our only real problem was that we still  had to use lights on steel poles because we couldn't hang a lighting rig from the roofs of the places we played. Oh well.

The gig drew 91 people and they ate and drank liberally, so we made money on it and we kicked tons of ass. I slipped our security an extra $10 apiece for keeping things calm even though the crowd was so dosed on weed and God only knows what else that no strong arming was necessary.

I invited Jim back to my place and he followed me home. Once our crew dropped our equipment off in a room of my house and departed to return the rental truck, I took a shower and changed into my bikini with the aforementioned pair of jean shorts over my bottoms. Jim and I kicked back on my living room couch with a bottle of wine I had John buy for me. I snuggled up to him and we had a few laughs before he started kissing me. Yeah, I was going to only be 17 that Sunday and he was 33, but it was nobody's business except ours. He was an excellent kisser and had a rock hard chest and strong arms that felt amazing to be wrapped up in.

He deftly removed my top to get at my tits and squeezed them with just the right amount of pressure to be pleasurable rather than painful and the faucet dispensing my natural lubricant was flooding my lowlands. God, what a man! He picked me up, slung me over his shoulder and carried me off to bed. He slid my shorts and bikini bottoms off. He positioned himself on top of me and thrust his big hard cock into me. "Oh God, I've been wanting that for such a long time!" I confessed. "I've been wanting you, too, foxy!" he disclosed and he began to ease his skin bazooka in and out of me. I wrapped my legs and arms tightly around his back and we made out while he plowed my pink furrow with some real intent behind it. Fuck, he was stuffing me so good and the heat within me reached its boiling point quickly. "Oh fuck Jim, God, fuck me harder baby!!" I begged and he pounded his dick into me forcefully until my machine gun panting told him I was in the throes of ecstasy. "You're so beautiful when you climax," he admired, his hips continuing to deliver the goods into my love dock.

The passion inside me kept the pleasure roiling as he enjoyed the caress of my still 16 year old vaginal walls around his meat tube. I was digging it even more than he was as his tongue probed the furthest reaches of my mouth. All I wanted at that moment was more of his manly spear and he granted it to me, making me begin to orgasm in multiples until he drained his heavy balls into my cunt. I was also drunk on his scent and felt so happy that I got a chance to be balled by him again.

"God Jim, you're such a fox," I dreamily informed him. Yes, that term was used for both sexes back then, though mostly uttered by guys about girls. I kissed him heatedly and then pulled him tightly against me. "Where are your parents?" he interrogated. "I'm an emancipated minor," I fibbed. "So I live here by myself." "What a trip!" he reacted. I giggled. "So are you going to stay for breakfast?" I pleaded. "I think I can see my way clear for that," he rejoindered with a Cheshire Cat grin. "Yay!" I cheered. I snuggled up next to him and dropped off to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up and he was still snoring away. I put on a bra and panty set and went to the kitchen to start breakfast. It was simple, just some poached eggs and bacon with buttered toast and orange juice. I woke him up and he groggily reported to my dining room table to eat. He expressed his pleasure at the meal I cooked and then I went down on him and got a taste of his meat sauce. He pulled me up and took me back to bed to perform cunniilingus on me and fuck me again before he left to go home. He was back again for dinner, where I made him grilled chicken and rice with black eyed peas. For dessert, I served him a home made key lime pie. "God damn, how did you learn to cook like this?" he asked. I smiled at the compliment and said it was just something I got out of a cookbook.

He bid me to move on to his lap and I did. "You're an amazing little girl, Melody," he said as he gave me a bigtime hug and kissed me. "So what are you planning to do with your life?" "Play guitar, have fun, fuck and cook for people," I averred. "What about marriage and children?" "That's not going to happen, Jim. I like my freedom and don't want to be tied down. I can't have kids anyway because I'm sterile." "What about you and me?" he pondered. "Jim, I love you. As much as I want you to be in my bed every night, I also know that I would be a miserable marriage partner. I don't even want a regular boyfriend. I like keeping my options open. However, you're more than welcome to come over frequently. I would love it if you would spend the night with me again." "Yeah, I guess this is the age of women's lib, so I get what you're telling me. It's so killer watching you play guitar. You're one dynamite mama." "So am I sleeping alone tonight or not?" I checked. "No, you're not sleeping alone tonight," he conveyed. I smiled and gave him another big hug. We had sex three times that night before we turned in. Just having him cuddle me before we dozed off was a turn on by itself. But still, I needed to do my own thing.