Several months passed since Joe's simultaneous first and last experience injecting heroin; months of a great deal more ease than usual and quite a lot less unease. He found that ease inevitably in his lovers' arms. But he felt it in a new, unexpected place.
Sitting on his dilapidated couch, listening to Yes and particularly Chris Squire its bassist and emulating those runs of notes on the Fender bass Maya had loaned to him ("It's yours, Joe," Maya told him when his skills improved and his calluses developed. "But it's such an expensive bass, Maya. It's such an expensive gift." "But I rarely use it and you use it all the time." "You may need it for your band," Joe insisted, adding, "I'll get my own when I can afford it."), Joe couldn't believe he had gotten to the point where not only had his copying become flawless, but he found himself improvising and maybe even improving on top of it.
And with that improvement came a greater partnership with Maya in building the music for his lyrics. They would sit together in his little living room, Maya on acoustic guitar and Joe playing the bass through the little Pignose amp Maya had also lent him. Eventually Maya even got him to harmonize with her. They discovered that when he kept his voice deep, octaves lower than hers, he could actually keep in harmony with her. He noticed she recorded everything on her fancy little portable four-track that used fancy DAT tapes. He figured it would be useful for her to work with with her band. He didn't know for sure because he hadn't been invited to rehearsal since he had scored the smack from Spike.
He had an inkling of significant change for both him and his ladies even before the evening of his birthday in early April wherein Maya went an altogether different direction from his apartment in heading to what she called "home."
A couple nights before, Saturday night, after the penultimate performance of the Nordeast Dance Company's season, Maya joined Carol and Joe in Carol's bed for another glorious mΓ©nage a trois in which revival of his cock twice helped to give his two lovers plenty of time to climax on it, almost as much time as the opiated penis had given them months before, and his cock felt much more sensitive and got stiffer than it had been under the narcotic influence. But even with the relentless pleasure that had been enjoyed by all as soon as they entered the privacy of Carol's apartment and stripped naked and began the sex marathon, he couldn't help notice bags and boxes had been packed.
"Moving?" he at last asked, worried, once his third climax finished. He knew once the season ended the following day that Carol had nothing holding her in the Twin Cities as far as work went. She had been apprenticing with her father as sort of an assistant to his assistant, but that actually meant she could well become peripatetic considering her father's constant travel. All Carol would do in answer was to nod and smile. The smile should have relaxed him, but it didn't. Instead he stiffened, except his well used penis.
"Massage time," Maya sighed.
The ladies managed to soften his tension until sleep overtook him. They'd gotten really good at it.
When Maya picked him up at his work on his birthday that Monday looking particularly sexy in tight red leather pants and a form fitting pink blouse that barely managed to hold in her plentiful tits and revealed the edges of her black lacy bra at her exposed cleavage, the unexpectedly balmy weather allowing her soft black leather jacket to be unzipped, he immediately stood at a cramped attention at his crotch.
"Ready?" she purred.
"Uhm...give me five minutes to finish up," he told her wide eyed.
The wide eyes made her giggle as did the generous stare of his colleague, a lesbian and fellow singer developing a following as an r & b belter.
"You look delicious," the lesbian murmured to her.
"Thanks Kathy," she smiled. "How's the gigging?"
"Great. I got a gig at the Uptown for a Saturday night. I'm fucking headlining."
"That's awesome. I'm sure it will be the first of many."
"Thanks. I hope so."
"It's inevitable," said Maya. "We'll be there."
"Cool."
Truth be told, neither Maya nor Joe were all that impressed with Kathy's shows, finding them derivative of countless female r & b shouters and even causing Maya to wince occasionally when Kathy's enthusiasm sent her off key. And Joe couldn't help cringing that time when Kathy claimed "Me and Bobby McGee" had been composed by her principal heroine, Janis Joplin when it had been composed by Kris Kristofferson. "She works in a record store," Joe complained. "She should know better." But of course Maya wouldn't be insulting like that to the somewhat pretty but more handsome lesbian's face. And at least in Joe's getting rides home from Kathy on several occasions, she seemed nice enough.
"Ready," said Joe, hugging his lady and taking her hand as they left the record store.
"You drive, Joe," said Maya, tossing him her keys. "I want to play."
As soon as they closed the car doors, Maya peeled down her pants and brought Joe's fingers between her thighs and beneath her lacy black panties. "You're fucking wet," Joe discovered.
Opening up his jeans, she managed to pull out his hard-on. "Yum," she purred, stroking it.
Being a stick shift, Joe had to deal with shifting to get onto the road. Once cruising, he slipped fingers back into her wetness. Maya had no such distraction, and as soon as they left the parking lot she leaned down and engulfed his purple plum.
"God," Joe moaned.
"Mmm," Maya hummed hornily.
Being of two minds, one of which barely functioned due to the other engulfed in pleasure, Joe struggled to make as quick a time as possible while at the same time wanting to lay back and enjoy Maya's talented tongue. Somehow he slithered through traffic to quicken the drive.
"We're...here," he murmured at the edge of orgasm. Immediately Maya ended her teasing that had brought him excruciatingly close time after time. Her hands worked in tandem, jerking the base of his cock with one and gently squeezing his balls with the other. Her mouth sucked at his plum while her tongue energetically swirled around it.
"Fuck! I'm cumming!" Joe barely warned his dark haired lover. He knew she didn't mind the brief warning, usually sensing when he would fill her mouth with his cum, but she did ask for the notice just in case so she could ready herself for receiving his plentiful semen.