Let me bring you up to speed.
Wanda and I played the Legion gig and then what seemed like a million more. The more we played, the more popular Wanda became. We had to get an agent just to keep track of what we were doing and where we were going. The agent wrangled us bus, not a great one. But it got us around. It ran rough, smelled bad and wasn't very comfortable. But we made it work. Along the way we picked up a drummer, a keyboard player, and a sound guy. Personal space was not a thing. Depending on the schedule, so was bathing. I mean the bus had shower and bathroom, sort of.
Wanda became a rising star in the music and Blues world. She was making a big name for herself, and we made a lot of money. But like the stories you hear, we went through it just as fast. There were of course the expenses of touring, hotels, motels, newer and better equipment, new clothes or costumes, and there were those with their hands in the till also. Agents, promoters, and a hundred other leeches along the way.
For a time, it was great. Anything we wanted; we could have. I mean anything. This is not always a good thing. We were young, inexperienced, and wanted to try just about anything. Wanda and I drank, had sex, played music, drank, and had sex. It was regular missionary style sex either. Wanda wanted to be slapped and abused. The rougher it was, the better she liked it.
There was an occasion after a bar gig, we went back to the motel. It was somewhere in the Midwest, no sure what state. Wanda asks to have her hands tied to her ankles with some of my old bass strings. This freaked me a little, afraid they would cut into her skin. But I did it. Wanda was face down on the bed, ass in the air. I beat her butt cheeks with my leather bass guitar strap, fucked her pussy, spat on her, and called her dirty names. The rooms next to us were not amused, because Wanda was loud. This manner of having sex made Wanda wet, wet as in it ran down her thighs. This occasion, she had me cum on her ass and beat her with my strap again. There was a bath or shower after, then she just wanted held. No talking just held.
The next morning, it was up, eat, get on the bus and head for the next gig. We slept a lot on the bus. Occasionally we played or practiced our instruments, learned a new riff, polished a rough spot. But sleep or stare out the window. The bus driver was named Lincoln. He never spoke, just drove us, and had a cigarette in his hand constantly. We learned quick to rest when possible.
Tim, the drummer, drank or did recreational drugs. Mostly he was in his bunk. Gordo listened to music with headphones. I never did find out what he listened to. He also read books, books on philosophy. Never saw him take a drink or anything else. Gordo did not speak often. This I know, his chords changes were always spot on. The sound guy varied. The first one was Rick. His vice was Coke, and he spent every cent on it. He was good at his job when sober, not so much as time passed. Rick was fired and I heard in went to rehab. Then followed a nameless parade of others. Most were okay.
The dives and bars turned into larger clubs, auditoriums, and outdoor venues. The crowds grew and were very appreciative of the music we made. Wanda up front always put on a great show. She dressed provocatively. Her playing was always fantastic, and her vocals made it perfect. We worked hard to back her up because it was in our best interest to do so.
Wanda acquired more and better guitars, complete with a tech to keep them in tune and functioning. I purchased bass guitars but maintained them myself. I had a couple of favs. There was a fretless I bought, but I sucked at that. Kept practicing though. Maybe someday. Played a couple of old upright basses. I really loved the sound, the space on the bus made it a bad idea. We each had newer and better gear, which only improved our sound. The overall thing was still gritty and dirty blues.
We did a show in New Orleans and had a few days off. Wanda took the opportunity to wander around and take in some local talent. She had me come along with her. Wanda dressed in a short red skirt that hardly covered her ass and a pink tube top, which also hardly covered her. Black heels on her feet and her hair teased. She looked sexy and hot. We wrangled a front table in this one place. It was a little uncomfortable for me as we were the only white people. Wanda felt no such discomfort. She was thrilled with each note the guys on the stage were laying down.
The beers began to flow. After four or five, Wanda got up and began to dance in front of the stage. This was not lost on the performers. They watched her as she danced, and they played just to her. It was fun to watch her interact with the musicians. I mean you could see that they were into her and a few visibly aroused. Wanda later turned to where I was sitting and began to give me a lap dance. This was very hot and aroused me greatly. So much so, I need some relief.
Wanda leaned down to whisper in my ear.
"Wanna fuck me?"
We were miles from the motel. Frantically, I searched this place for somewhere to take Wanda and have her. We turned and headed to the restroom. The bartender, who had observed all this, nodded towards a stairwell. With Wanda in tow, up them we went. There was a door at the top and it was locked. Wanda leaned on the railing facing away from me, lifted one leg up and placed it alongside the rail. I lifted her short skirt to find she wore no panties and was dripping. I dropped my pants and my cock slide right in. We had sex right there, overlooking the stage and the musicians.
Our rhythm matched whatever they played. What they performed was slow and grinding blues, our sex matched. I held Wanda's hips, slowly moved in and out of her. Per usual, she got loud. A good thing, the band was louder. We could see people downstairs, listening and/or dancing, and drinking. The band members could look up and see us and knew exactly what we did. They all grinned like crazy.
We had a nice slow fuck and somewhere in the third song, Wanda climaxed. I had waited for her and unloaded streams of cum in her wet pussy. My cock was stuffed back in my pants, Wanda dropped her skirt down and just before we went downstairs,
She spoke.
"We are not done yet Jimmy. This was just a warmup. You are gonna fuck me hard at the motel."
Already, I grew aroused just thinking about it. Sex with Wanda had grown exciting and playful, and sometimes harsh. She liked it that way and had pulled me into her way of thinking and doing things. As a matter of fact, I had plans for us the next time we hit Indy. We went downstairs, had another beer, and then headed to the motel.
We had been intelligent enough to take a cab these days. Driving would have been dangerous for the others on the road. Wanda and I fell into the backseat. The driver was given the address.
Wanda pushed me roughly back on the seat. The tube top was pushed down, and her tits fell out. Wanda straddled me in the backseat and fed me her nipples and breasts. The driver looked in the mirror. I sucked and licked to Wanda's and my own content. And she had other activities in mind. Wanda moved to kneel on the cab floor. My pants were unzipped, and my already hard cock exposed. Wanda went down on me and did so with vigor and much noise. Slurping loudly and bobbing her head fiercely. I am amazed we weren't involved in an accident. The driver could not look away.
