As the bass player whipped out his cock, she wondered whose bodily fluids had stained the van’s carpeting.
“Go ahead. It won’t bite.”
She gave it a squeeze.
“Babe, your mouth, not your hand.”
She sucked, then swallowed him, burying her nose in his pubic hair, choosing his cock over air.
“Fuck!” he yelled, overflowing her mouth.
Stuffing his sticky cock back inside his jeans, he bolted, saying, “Been real, uh, Sally, but next set’s up.”
She wiped away his cum running down her chin. Her name was Connie—and they’d all learn her name soon enough.
