Ass To Mouth arrived in Austin the day before the first show. Candii, the rep from Swallow Records, spared no expense, booking the entire touring party into the most expensive hotel in town. The bands checked in while their roadcrew transported gear to the venue for tomorrow's performance. A2M's roadies used the time to get to know the roadcrews working for other bands. It was going to be a tight couple of weeks, and if this thing was going to be a success, everyone needed to be on the same team.
Pete and Carlos perched on stools at the hotel bar, each with a cool beer in front of them. A little later, the other two members of A2M showed up and they each grabbed ales of their own. They chatted aimlessly for a while before Carlos dropped the bombshell -- he and Pete were gonna get hitched.
A2M's bass player and their other guitarist congratulated their bandmates on getting engaged. They were genuinely happy for them both. They understood now why Carlos and their drummer were such an inseparably tight unit on the Canadian tour.
Their bass player's initial reaction was 'a married couple in the band will make us stronger'.
Their other guitarist immediately thought of Fleetwood Mac. If you know, you know. If A2M could sell as many records as Fleetwood Mac did, he'd gladly deal with the emotional fallout when Carlos and Pete inevitably broke up. They'd write suggestively nasty yet commercially successful love/hate pop songs about each other, and the fat royalty checks would roll in for the rest of their lives. Yep, he could definitely live with that.
Inwardly, each of A2M's four band members felt nervous about the next two weeks. They weren't about to play a one-off show at Eternal, where everyone in the crowd knew them. And this wasn't a mini-tour of Canada either, a place where they were completely unknown and where it probably wouldn't have mattered all that much if they failed. This was somewhere in-between, somewhere much more challenging, with bigger crowds. This was a serious roadshow, the kind of tour they'd dreamed about since the band first formed. There was pressure: the band's career could potentially die from word of mouth following a bad show.
On the flight to Austin, Carlos read a book about Prince. In his early days, Prince was a very nervous performer, sometimes throwing up before taking the stage. Carlos was surprised to learn this. He'd always thought Prince was a supremely confident performer, completely at ease with his own stage presence. Apparently, whenever he felt nervous, Prince's secret weapon was to pretend the audience just wasn't there, imagining he was rocking out in his local rehearsal room or in someone's garage.
If he felt anxious tomorrow, Carlos was gonna try to put this theory to the test.
Six bands were on the bill, and even though they'd played with Boipussy many times and knew them well, they didn't know anyone in any of the four other bands they'd be spending the next two weeks with. Sure, they'd listened to them online, so they could at least talk about music backstage, but that's not the same as meeting face to face. Pete desperately hoped the other bands weren't douchebags. Egos can easily get out of control in the music business, even at this low level.
Both Pete and Carlos were looking forward to seeing the headliner, Hypnosissy, perform. They liked the music of all four bands, but they were into Hypnosissy's sound the most. They sounded dark, brooding, insistent and hypnotic.
A thirsty Ace showed up at the hotel bar, fresh off a short flight from Miami, in search of a cool drink. He saw A2M gathered at a table, but they didn't see him. He tiptoed across to where they were sitting and grabbed Carlos's waist from behind.
Carlos nearly jumped off his stool in shock before he realised who it was. He turned around to greet Ace with a gigantic smile and they hugged.
"What, is that all I get?" pouted Ace. His long blonde hair fell down the back of his tight denim jacket. "Gimme a kiss, Carlos!"
Carlos pressed his lips to Ace's. Ace grabbed Carlos's jaw and forced his tongue deep into his mouth. Carlos was initially surprised -- they were in a hotel bar! -- but he eventually submitted.
It was enough to make Carlos's dick twitch. Even the bartender, watching from afar, popped half a boner.
"And who do I find over here?" asked Ace rhetorically as he slinked towards Pete. "Fuck, sexy dude, so good to see you again!" Ace ran his hands through Pete's shoulder-length red Irish hair and kissed him just as hard. Pete rammed his long tongue so deep into Ace's mouth it nearly made him gag.
Ace broke the kiss, coughing slightly. "I forgot your tongue was a weapon of mass destruction."
Pete blushed. "Sorry, Ace. And sorry to your tonsils, too."
Carlos motioned for Ace to join them at their table, moving an unused stool across from an adjacent table. He waved at the bartender and a cool beer arrived. They all knew Swallow was picking up the tab. Ace took a seat between Carlos and Pete.
"I don't know about you boys," Ace began, wrapping an arm around each of Pete's and Carlos's waist, "but it feels like I'm on the cusp of the best time of my life. I can't thank you enough for putting in a good word about us to Swallow. We're well aware that Boipussy isn't as well-known as Ass To Mouth ..."
"We're not very well-known either!" Carlos interrupted.
"... that may be true, Carlos, but if it wasn't for your good words and your sincere, kind references," Ace boomed comically, "Boipussy would not be here." He raised his beer. "I just want you to know how grateful we all are."
Pete chuckled. "Under normal circumstances, you could express your gratitude by buying us a few beers, but unless I'm mistaken, the record label is paying for everything."
"Don't get me wrong," said Ace, necking half of his beer, "I mean, I'm never gonna say no to free drinks, but how am I gonna thank you instead?"
"In the time-honoured tradition." Carlos was keen to see how Ace might interpret his cryptically vague suggestion.
Ace disappeared under the table with the singlemindedness of a man on a mission. Pete felt a pair of hands pushing his knees apart, and two sets of fingers manipulating his zipper.
Carlos watched Pete's facial expressions closely. He moved onto Ace's vacant stool so he could sit next to his boyfriend.
Pete's jaw suddenly dropped, and Carlos assumed Ace had taken his boyfriend's shaft into his mouth.
In an attempt to project a semblance of normalcy, conversation at the table continued, though Pete himself had momentarily lost the power of speech. By now, all four members of Ass To Mouth had worked out exactly what Ace was doing under the table.
"Fuck, dude," Carlos whispered into Pete's ear, "this is the hottest thing ever."
Pete looked helpless. His hands balled into fists. "He's gonna make me cum so fucking hard," he seethed. "I don't think I can hold it back."
"Fuck yeah," Carlos replied. "Give it to him. Flood his mouth."
Pete felt it beginning to build up. Ace was under the table and out of sight; there was no way to warn him. It kept building, and building, and building.
It felt like an elastic band snapped inside Pete's balls. He'd rarely cum so hard. He tried hard not to moan as his thick load pumped down Ace's throat, but he couldn't help it.
Ace coughed a little before he swallowed. He resurfaced, licking his lips. "Is there any cum on my face?" He resumed his stool and casually sipped his beer.
"Yeah, just a little," said Carlos, "just outside the corner of your mouth."
Ace grabbed a napkin and dabbed his face.
Pete packed his wet cock back inside his pants and zipped himself back up. His nuts were empty and his dick was spent. His ex had sucked him completely dry.
Other than Pete, everyone around the table was hard. Carlos resisted the temptation to jack off in the bathroom.
This was gonna be a good tour. This was gonna be a huge couple of weeks.
Ace finished the rest of his beer, washing the remains of Pete's load into his stomach. He made a show of swilling it between his cheeks before swallowing heartily.
Carlos tried to ignore his raging boner by trying to pull the conversation back on track. "Hey Ace, have Boipussy got any merch to sell?"
Ace wiped his mouth again, glancing edgily at Pete. "No, not really. We don't even have copies of our demo CD with us. We're just here for a good time, and for the ... exposure." With this, Ace stood up and unzipped himself. He flashed his semi-erect cock for a second or two before zipping back up again. "Got any ideas?"
"Huh?" Carlos replied. He was still thinking about what Ace just did. He remembered the time he got himself fired from a shitty office job by flashing his cock in his boss's face. He didn't last until lunchtime before security confiscated his pass and frogmarched him out of the building.
"About merchandise, dude," said Ace. "Maybe we can get some t-shirts printed up?"
"T-shirts are an awesome idea," Pete decided. Money was no object. "What would they look like?"
"OK. I've been thinking about this for a while." Ace ventured over to the bar and returned with two cardboard beer coasters and a pencil. He began to draw. Pete looked across, impressed with his outlines. He leaned in closer, resting a palm on Ace's shoulder.
Ace passed the finished sketches around the table. The centre of the design, destined for the front of the t-shirt, showed the base of a buttplug buried in an anus. A pair of fat cheeks were clearly visible, as was a heavy set of balls, which ruled out the possibility that this was a female ass. The top left-hand corner of the design displayed "ASS TO MOUTH" in capital letters, while the right-hand corner said "BOIPUSSY". The back of the t-shirt, drawn on the second beer coaster, said "COCKS OUT!" in capitals, and a series of horizontal lines underneath were intended to display the tour venues and dates.
