Blacksnake Groan Ch 02

Good Day, Sunshine

Day Two of the three-day GrindFest dawned and progressed about like Day One had. Kegs-n-Eggs and Wake-n-Bake seemed the order of the day. The weather forecast was hot with 100% chance of hotter. The kid in the Pit had turned DILF in the VIP at the Fest. He'd gotten used to the strange looks, being the lone speck of pepper at a show like this as a teenager. He was glad he helped blazed that path. Now he got puzzled looks because he was clearly not that kid anymore, with the sprinkle of gray in his 'locs and stubble. Still loved the feel of bass pulsing through his body and the view of neon trails along grinding nubile bodies never gets old. The gray-beard toured the grounds and reveled with his adult children and their friends.

And then, like a bad rom-com, it happened. With an early moring overcast, Lucky'd taken off his shades and was hanging with his kids in the crowd. The energy was pickin gup and jJust after passing his son the joint, he turned, and there she was, in SuperSloMo, back-lit, silhouette; thundering performance onstage, muted to an almost inaudible pulse.

Their eyes met, and there was no denying it. He felt the effect his new gift's raw power.

In profile Amber was a classic hourglass: symmetrical and seductive. Long stems slowly flaring before gently rounded into the twin hills of the lower glass, cinching at a waspish waist. Up and back out the flare, twin balloons defied gravity between her shoulders, ballast to the lush hills below. Covered in unblemished porcelain, it was impossible to miss her in a festival ground filled with dodgy ink from many nights of questionable choices.

Mythic blonde hair pulled up in pig tails revealed all of an ageless face. High, apple cheeks? Full, red cupids-bow lips? Check and check. The jaw line that Tolkien beat it to while writing about Middle Earth? Check. All supporting the two largest pools of light limpid blue ever imagined, lined immaculately in black. Time stopped and ceased to have meaning when their gazes met.

Climate control and indoor plumbing are never to be underrated among humanity's great achievements. They both keep pretty pussy fresher longer. Old pervs, too. He'd sprung for the pass 'cause he was the latter. There were plenty of young tats and tits bouncing with bodacious bottoms in the VIP, even early this morning. Not that he would ever complain about cute girls laughing and shaking asses.

Sir Mix-a-lot echoed in his head (he thought) every time Amber passed by, center of the flock of fest fluff. "

Baby Got Somethin'

" as the soccer-ball halves of her haunches swallowed what was just the center seam of a pair of too-tight button-fly blue jeans with a half-inch margin of denim. The cut created a thong as it rose to the belt line and maintained the margin around and past the fly. Two triangles of tricot tangled in string and her lanyard only just covered her nipples in white.

Over a long day's tripping in and out of the festival's second-most exclusive refuge she could not be missed; fluttering through to the Performers and WAGs UberVIP. Neither could the puffer-jacket-wearing, wanna-be-street, douche-nozzle she was attached to: MC Chad, the DJ for metal-hop fusion act that was up before the headliner. Lucky vaguely recalled some lightweight controversy over some racial comments on social media, but hadn't cared enough to investigate too deeply. Hadn't come to see him anyways.

Chad played her with her emotions all morning. Playing needy, then pushing her away while flirting hard with the other girls. Chad squeeze-tested the freshness of every pair of buns he thought Amber couldn't see. Amber wasn't stupid. It cast a shadow across her face Lucky didn't like.

Grabbing a bottle of water and waiting for his phone to charge, Lucky caught a glimpse of Chad across the velvet rope in the Performers area. In what he thought was a private corner, Chad his tongue down the throat of some chick drunkenly cosplaying a tatted-up Elvira and his hand up her skirt. Classy midday show.

Elvira shook and her inhuman-sized balloons fell out of her wrap mini-dress, surgical scars dark circles on stretched skin. Fingers busy at Chad's belt, she squatted, her snatch open and wet. She struggled to pull out a stunningly small cock. But Elvira knew how to suck a dick. Lucky could see his phone was fully charged, and Chad was too, when a piercing shriek, "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!" cut through the second warm-up act's sound check.

Hell hath no fury, but Amber was no match for two 6'9", 300-pound bodyguards when she tried to get at the intentionally cruel coupling. With one hand pulling Elvira's head back and forth on his little knob, he smiled and pointed at the rope. "My people will send yo shit to ya Mama's house! Maybe!", he cackled as Elvira continued servicing him.

None of the crowd of black and neon dye-jobs who had been her bestie all day moved a muscle as Chad's lugs tossed her over one shoulder and attempted to put her down with some dignity, on the soles of her white, ankle-high, Dr. Marten's Air-Wair boots. The effort failed and she buckled to the concrete.

"

...So they toss it; leave it, and I pull up quick to retrieve it!

" Lucky acted on Mix-a-lot's rhyme. The Daddy in him knew there was a chance to direct the shock of the moment to his advantage, like when an infant is uncertain whether to cry after a fall. It was worth a shot. Worst case, she was going to cry anyway.

Taking off his shades and leaning down, he inhaled to speak and had to fight through the intoxication of her scent. "These motherfucker's don't deserve you anyway," his baritone rasped in her ear, "Let's go!", he ordered, looking in straight into her eyes, taking her hand, and fighting his fears at the intensity of the bond he felt being forged on a hasty retreat to the crowd.

What's that puppy going to do when it catches that fire engine?

Lucky headed towards the sound of music and didn't stop until they were right in front of the sound boards while a classic reggae beat came from the stage. With one hand on her hip, he began to sway instinctively to the classic beat. To his amazement, she closed with him and swayed along. He was glad that conversation was useless from the volume. Words would have spoiled the non-verbal communication beginning between their bodies to the beat. She was all skin and hot and hormonal and deliciously sweaty melting against him. Shushing and whispering sounds of comfort against her neck and in her ear, they rocked.

The tears stopped wetting his shoulder and he wasn't holding her up before the first song was over. He felt her begin to move of her own volition early in the second. Lowering his chin, he opened his eyes slowly. Terrified he might see the yawning abyss of pain he had seen just those few moments earlier. He beamed seeing those enormous expressive pools begin to shine again.

The band's tempo picked up and their reality rejoined the celebrating crowd. Laughing and dancing, Amber intensified the magic of the scene with her sexual power. Lovely lady lumps in syncopation in his peripheral, he dove deeply into her eyes, the skin of their chests pressing through her useless top and his soaked tank. Nipples hardened against his chest and with a pull at the small of her back. As naturally as Summer follows Spring, she made is dick hard. He pressed the erection she inspired to her lower belly. She could take his pulse from the throb against her abs and smiled feeling her power.

Riding the vibe, Lucky's fingertips slid down the last few inches of spine and over the inch of denim to explore the top of the split of her magnificent backside. Cupping and trying to palm one cheek, he found it firm, but still yielding. More than filling his single, groping, hand. Following the fringe of the jeans' thong-cut seam with the edge of his index finger, the heat of her cheeks surrounded the digit as it made itself familiar with the path to her heat.

Touch receptors supercharged; he felt the surface of her skin change at the ray burst of her sphincter. Instinctually, her hips arched forward, dragging her hood along the pulsing pecker path, vulva opened around the soaked seam flossing her sex. Her sigh rattled through his rib cage, and he discovered a new twinkle her eyes and a smile reserved for the truly privileged.

Snapping around 180 degrees, she opened the gap between her white, ankle-high, Dr. Marten's to the width of her shoulders. The twin lobes hanging from her chest wobbled as she bent at the waist to present him the view of her coral-pink labia curling around a strip dark blue. Her wider mons smooth, shiny, and pink in the growing twilight, eyes followed the strip upward to just see her starfish wink before she pushed herself back and the instinctual human docking maneuvers kicked in. Going commando beneath the thinnest of cargo shorts, Lucky gasped at the feel of her gripping him through the single layer of tech fabric, twerking along his length. There was a touch of a wicked gleam in the joy of her smile as she looked back over her right shoulder, juicy titties bouncing, and saw her impact on her "savior".

Gripping her hip, the fingers of his left hand sunk into lush, pliant muscle, her skin flawless and smooth as a newborn's. Childish innocence long gone from the gyration of her glutes. With his right hand he caressed her cheek, meeting her gaze and leaning in.

Urgent. Promising, but brief. His full pillowy mouth met hers. Tongues brushing as his hand descended, exploring soft lines of her neck and throat, his mouth whispered heated nothings against the back of her ear as she faced away. Tangled loosely in the mess of string, her bikini top had become, his large hand almost covered all of the right breast it cupped and squeezed.

A nipple the lightest shade of pink imaginable escaped, barely contrasting with the ivory skin. He watched it darken and stretch as his milk-chocolate hand pulled on her fleshy balloon.

With a laugh that trilled like songbirds on a Spring morning, she spun and took his hand, deeper into the festival crowd. Lucky followed. The morning's spark turned bonfire, fueled by the youthful joy, and unbridled passion of the crowd and the jams vibing across the valley. How quickly both of their fortunes had bounced to a common trajectory stunned him. In his prime, girls this hot couldn't take him home to Daddy. Warmth flooded with visions of walls crumbling in his mind.

Tripping along through the merch village, he savored the feel of her hand in his. The simple public intimacy that he saw turn raging interest turn to grudging jealousy on male and female faces in the path. She squeezed a little and the corners of his mouth curled up, hopeful of intimacies much more complex to come.

Coming a quick halt, he tugged on her hand, and she turned gracefully facing him. After hours of heavy flirting, she slipped easily into his arms, her frame becoming more familiar and needed with each brush. Sweet is an understatement for the taste of the open mouth greeted his. Her full red lips parted for his exploring tongue, cushioning the press of his darker, fuller lips. Joined at the face, their clothed bodies melded into one. Eager to know each other in ways that words cannot express, they drank deeply from each other while the crowd milled past, oblivious.