At the Concert

We had a feeling like we were standing on the edge. Jimmy Paterson was pressing the mic to his mouth, right at the edge of the stage: Tight jeans, bare chest, and a white flag in his hand. Every fiber of his muscles on that bare chest seemed to be tensed. His short, black hair was dark from sweat. He was giving it his all jumping up and down, facing us down with his legs spread wide and the toes over the edge of the stage, and the pausing for his facial expression so emotionally haunted by his words that it became disfigured. All we could do to meet him was to scream louder and jump higher, bodies against bodies pitted as we were.

There was no question that they were feeding on us as much as we were on them. Their set had started lackluster. Drummer Kindred Raven had started missing the beat a few times. The band hadn't been together for a couple of years because Kindred Raven had gone through a long depression where he wrote long rants about how fucked up everything was. His percussion was so weak and often missed starting at the right time that at times, he simply gave up, sitting quietly in frustration, seemingly ready to walk off the stage before the set was halfway over.

Then seemingly for now reason - the singer was unsuccessfully trying to sync up to the lead guitar melody, but a memory of old times - this girl - wearing a hippie scarf made out of patches and spandex pants that made her butt seems naked and bubbly with medieval town-chester-looking cut on the pant openings - climbed the security fence to the stage. She threw her top off and high into the air into the crowd. We couldn't see her boobs, but she was jiggling them straight to Kindred Raven - screaming and waving with her arms wide out. They seemed like full, jiggly, and tear-drop-shaped ones. Kindred Raven broke into a drum solo so intense that everyone else stopped playing in surprise. Every little hit of the drumstick sounded sweet - sharp and precise - so infectious that we had to stop our jumping and turn to body convulsions. He was controlling our bodies like puppets - oozing sweetness in one moment, intensity in the next, and caressing romantic meandering patterns in the following.

Jimmy Paterson snapped to it as well. He started repeating "hate!" again and again until he had us all chanting. Then he told us a story with the song about how he exterminated everything in his life he didn't like. We could feel the catharsis in directing our inner anger at everything that we wanted to change in our lives. Sleeping in to waste the day? Hate that! Skipping practice to lose the game? Hate that! Being polite to silence the truth? Hate that! As our bodies danced wildly to his new song, we felt like we were getting a new beginning in life - us as a group together. We were sweaty. We were young.

People who had been ambling around the venue heard the new song and came pressing in. You had to really maintain your spot, deal with elbows and heads butting against you, and keep jumping with the crowd as much as possible to avoid getting hurt. A sweaty male back flattened my nose for a few seconds. My voice was already hoarse but because I heard other voices wailing like war cries above the general noise, I had to give it my all.

And then the second girl felt the need to stand out. She climbed the security fence in front of the stage. She was a chubby one, a real fan. She pulled her black top over her head and threw it on stage. The soft thing didn't fly very far. She must have had voluptuous breasts and an enormous drive to shake them wild. Kevin Rize, the lead guitarist, was a dirty bastard. He absolutely loved the more jiggle the better. He broke into a solo. He wasn't even playing their typical sound. He went completely off-book and went into tribal belly dancing music territory, but you could feel that this was the stuff that was personally alive for him and fun. He kept serenading to her with his guitar. The girl loved it so much that she kept jiggling her breasts at him.

The band kept taunting more women to bare their breasts at them. We as the crowd felt obligated to push women forward towards them. I first saw a small girl, two heads shorter than the crowd being pushed forward. I only glimpsed her for a moment before she disappeared into the roving jungle of bodies, but I understood what we were doing. When I saw a woman near me, I quickly grabbed her arm and pushed her in between the two bodies in front of me. There was this excitement that we shared a group mind that we were active in it.

More women bared their breasts to the band and threw their tops into the crowd. It had become a thing that was acceptable to be done and some were excited to get into it. After their moment of fame, they'd cover their breasts and hurry through the crowd to the back, presumably to get clothes. I saw hands touching the women scurrying backwards with their chests clutched, too busy to hurry to pay any mind to fending the hands off. I saw a girl with a dozen hands caressing her. When one came bursting out in between bodies, I quickly reached out my hand as well to feel her body - feminine, sweaty, in heat - only a fleeting quick glimpse for me but an endless gauntlet of hands for her.

The band stopped playing music. Jimmy Paterson squatted down to talk to us. "Listen, guys! We love you so much. There is this song. The record label forbade us to play it. They told us that if we did, they'd tear up our contract. I see Mike right over there in the VIP lounge. He's fuming with his face blood red right now." Jimmy pointed with his finger. We could all see a gang of five security guys in all-black clothes pulling a chubby, bald guy towards the exit, presumably for his own safety. "We are going to play the song for you. Remember! This is probably your only chance to hear it because that fat ass is going to tear up our contract the moment he gets into his dictator Mercedes. So really enjoy this one!"

We were poised at the edge of our seams to soak up every moment of the song to come. He tapped the mic to check if he was still connected. Every little delay as the band members looked at each other to get ready for the moment of the first note stretched our anticipation to the limit. Then they sat loose. I can't even remember much of the song. We were so full of anticipation that we jumped harder than we had jumped before.

The crowd not only pushed women forward to the stage, but the women started spilling over the security fence into the noman's land in front of the stage. Security guys ran desperately to push the women back into the crowd, but the crowd was packed too tightly. The women ended up floating on top of the crowd. Inadvertently, the security people sent the women back on top of the crowd as surfers. The security staff was desperate feeling the imminence of being run over. They couldn't plead the band to calm down. The band in love with us and reckless from knowing that they had lost their contract only stoked the mayhem on more. They were far away from playing the regular songs. They were in the moment, feeling inspiration coming over them.

I saw the hands reaching for a woman floating on top. She was wearing pink shorts, a blue t-shirt, and canvas sneakers. She seemed plain, down-to-earth, and athletic. So many hands were reaching for her trying to touch her. I pushed closer, stretching my hand high, but she moved past out of reach. Eager to catch the next one, I was ready with both hands. I felt a sweaty calf with one hand and a top coarse from a decorative plastic texture. I got so excited with everyone else. The women were free to be touched. The anonymity of the crowd was so freeing.

When the women reached the back of the crowd, the back sent them back to the front. They were carried above us. They had no control. We felt like we owned their bodies. Some of the feminine faces that I saw passing by overhead looked like joyful tomboys having a blast. Others looked anguished and scared to be out of control, toyed with by the crowd. There was a group feeling that this is simply the way it is. A rite of passage that comes with the territory. I got so excited looking around for the next woman to pass overhead and grope her while screaming out the joy. For a moment, another guy looked into my eyes. His face was wild and giddy. The energy had swept up everyone.

A tall guy next to me was holding onto a passing woman hard. He was struggling. I could see his elbow jerking back a few times, almost hitting my face. His lips were tensed like he was very focused. Because he was close enough, I heard him scream, "I got one!" Then I saw him holding a pink bra in his hand. He had yanked it off of her. He lifted it to his nose to smell.

I knew that I wanted something as well before all the clothes were gone. The next woman who passed. I couldn't make much of her. I saw a juicy thigh. I saw one of her sneakers drop low for a moment to hit someone in the head. I jumped and I reached. I felt around her flesh until I felt something fabric-like. I wrapped my fist around it tight and held on for dear, pulling in the opposite direction. It felt short and stringy. I really wanted it. Panties flashed across my mind. I even more desperately wanted them as a memory of this day. They felt like they were tearing. I felt three other hands fighting me for dominance of the panties. They were down her thigh, over her knees, and faced a last struggle around her ankles. I twisted my body to leverage the three hands fighting me for them away. They were stretching and tearing, but I was fighting for them like a dog until I finally had them in both my hands in front of my chest. The prize was a midnight blue thong.

I smiled. I sniffed them. They were caked in white serum. They smelled strong just like I liked them. I buried them deeply in my pocket below my wallet to not lose them. The hands that had been fighting me were off to hunt for a trophy from another couch surfer. The crowd was so rabid to catch a memento.

Naked women were floating around on top of us. The crowd was hungry to touch them. They weren't allowed down. We felt the imminence of the moment when for a short moment the rules of the world stop applying. We felt that any moment all this could be over. So we desperately tried to get one last grab of bare feminine skin.

The next band was supposed to start playing, but they simply joined the band. They loved the energy too much. The two bands improvised together. Nobody dared to disturb the moment that was about to fleet. The bands did a soul-full serenade already mourning the epic moment as gone in a way. That only made us more desperate to prolong it.

One of the naked women fell down. In between the crowd. She sat on the floor for a moment. She had a dirty blond ponytail, the look and posture of a dressage horseback rider. Her face looked stunned about how she had been dropped and what would happen next. With everyone trying to get their head as high as possible, she seemed to be sitting in the underworld - an underworld of roving legs. She didn't move. Her face begged the question: "What now?"

That suspension of time lasted only for a moment. Guys bent down to grope her chest. More guys bent down to grope her all over. She disappeared from my sight into the center of a ball of about ten guys, tightly pressed against each other over her. Her boobs, butt cheeks, and pussy must have been groped all over. She was lost in a frenzy, hidden below out of view.

The event was noticed by a few people. Another woman was dropped down to the crowd. I rushed there. I only got there when there was a tiny little tunnel between two guy bodies to press my arm through. I felt around with my fingers. I found her foot. I was creasing her foot, exploring her toes and squeezing the aches. I enjoyed getting my opportunity to touch a female, young body.

This one had a distraught expression on her face. She had dark hair and large pink nipples. Her hazel brown eyes looked tormented. Her arms swatted at us. She'd sweep three hands away with a swipe of her arm, but ten other hands eagerly explored her body everywhere she wasn't swatting. The hands were so out of control. She was wriggling around on the floor and kicking her legs. But for every little space she created, hands immediately descended back on her. Like the water in the ocean, the hands were fluid, never fighting back but always flowing back any way they could.

I saw another woman dropping out of the sky to the dusty dirt ground. My chances seemed better with her. I pushed towards her on my hands and knees, crawling among the legs, getting my hands stomped on by jumping guys. I got there in time to sit down next to her and plant my hands on her right boob, massaging it, fondling it, and rolling the nipple around between my thumbs. She was my toy. Arms pressed over my shoulders and past the sides of my ribs. The hands were so hungry to get to the prime choice of her body. I saw the backs of the hairy hands. Her body was like the sacred religious talisman that crowds of worshippers yearn to touch to reach salvation. Only to get a small fingertip on her body meant so much. My seated position and the push of the crowd locked me in position.

Her face was very different from the last woman. She looked high, like very high. She wasn't really there. Her cheeks were red from grinning so hard. Her blue eyes were looking at nothing as if she were hallucinating and in some altered reality. Her arms and legs were reached out. "Touch me all over with your hot little hands," she kept calling out to us. She never looked at any of us. She seemed to treat this like a spa treatment where she was enjoying surrendering her body.

The group of us underneath the group turned into a little kula. We felt kinship. We started exploring what we could do with her body. One guy put his face between her thighs to eat her. She started moaning. Someone else put his thumbs in her mouth. She started sucking it. Someone squeezed her other nipple hard. Her hand wrapped around his hand to encourage him to squeeze harder to inflict pain on her. All the while, her eyes and face looked like she was super high and gone.

Someone got his pants off and started fucking her. They rolled them over so that someone else could penetrate her ass. A third guy was quick to get his cock in her mouth. I realized that I had missed out by being too slow. The sexual nature took me by surprise, but she wasn't fighting back. She was just completely relaxed and high like a kite. Her scrawny body was being handled by a dozen of us guys. That's twenty-four hands on her. Dust from the ground started clinging to her skin.

The power was cut suddenly. We sensed that someone had cut the power to the sound and lights because things were getting too much out of hand. As a herd, we felt instant panic. We started running. At first, we were simply running out of panic to being caught. Then we started running toward the exit to escape. I was slammed against a porter potty by the people behind me. They kept pushing against my body until the porter potty tumbled over. I lay flat on top of it but quickly jumped to my feet to avoid getting trampled. I was running again with the crowd. At one point, I kicked my shin on hard metal. I saw what it was for a second. It was a stretcher. We had stormed through the medical tent.

By the time, I got there, the ten feet tall chainlink metal fence of the venue was flat on the ground. With more space, we could run faster, our legs flying. From there, we spilled into the streets of the city. I felt like I was disappearing after a few turns on the pavement. Only a light group of people was left next to me. We heard police sirens in the distance encouraging us to keep moving away.

"You never talk about this! You never say that you were there! You never acknowledge this concert ever happened! That's the only way to stay out of jail," a pale-faced lanky guy in shorts with a bare chest and only one shoe on told me that and then turned to the next person. He was in a panic.

I gave my T-shirt to a naked woman who wore it as a dress, walking barefoot through the grimy city streets. She didn't say thank you. She didn't look back. She simply walked away.

I think shock set in for all of us to what had happened. In the moment, reality had felt suspended. Simply walking without the pumping music and energy allowed our thoughts to catch up. Reality felt stark. I started feeling my body again. I started feeling the soreness of my muscles and bruises all over. My neck felt sore like someone must have slammed on top of my head at one point.