Supernatural
2012-02-12

Thursday, I had my guitar with me again and, from the same spot asthe preceding day, I launched into Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now. ""What's that song you're playing," a girl about 20 feet awayinquired. I told her. "Never heard of her," she said of Mitchell. "This is a really famous song," I instructed. I went back to the topand began singing it. "Sing louder!" a boy shouted. So I did. When Ifinished that tune, I went into Cat Stevens' "Moon Shadow. " I took aslide out of my purse upon concluding that composition and launchedinto "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer. " That elicited hoots ofrecognition and a group of guys banded together to raggedly sing thechorus. That made me laugh. I completely changed the tone when Isang a version of Heart's "Love Alive" and shifted into Metallica's"The Unforgiven. "

A couple guys came up to me asking if I could play electric, too. "Yeah, but I'm still waiting for some of my equipment to arrive fromwhere I used to live," I lied. "What do you usually play? onewondered.

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   "It's all over the map, from folk to thrash," I stated. "Awesome," he enthused. I did the intro from Metallica's "One" andthen a little Children of Bodom. "Fuck, that's killer!" he averred. "Thanks sweety," I chirped.

I didn't bring my guitar Friday and some people expresseddisappointment. "I just wasn't in the mood," I explained, which wasthe truth. I did, though, get invited to a party that night, which Ihad to take a cab to. I wore a white tank top with a scooped neckthat showed a lot of cleavage, blue shorts and open toed flats. Ibasically looked like a Hooters girl. I had some pleasantconversations with a few guys and even some of the girls, who wereall part of the popular clique. I had a couple of beers but refusedthe blunts that were being passed around since they were just goingto be too strong for me to take. Overall, the party was pretty lame. I may have looked like a bimbo, but inside it didn't take me thatlong to get bored. Also, the music wasn't too hot, to understatethings quite a bit.

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   I eventually said I had to get home before myparents would notice me being gone, called another taxi and left. The irony of any so-called "popular" crowd is that they are usuallythe biggest lamers on campus and are often little more thanenforcers of conformity.

Saturday, I wore the same outfit as Friday, except with a bikiniunderneath, and jumped on the bus to the beach because it was sowarm. I asked a guy who was near me on the sand to spread suntan oilon me, which he was quick to agree to. I offered to do the same forhim and he was good with that, too, as one would imagine. When I didhis chest, I sat with  my camel toe right on his the hard onprotruding against his trunks and rocked my hips very slightly totease him. I got up with a giggle, thanked him and went back to mytowel.

A couple hours later, he was gone after I had taken a dip in thecold water. However, when I walked to the bus stop to go home, hewas there waiting for the same bus. The bus was packed and he, hisbuddy and I had to stand for a while. I pushed my breasts againsthis body to give him a bit of a thrill as I violated his space. Hisface was just inches from mine and I hugged him when I lost mybalance a couple of times. The ridership eventually thinned out andeverybody was able to have a seat, which ended my fun with him. Wereached the transportation center, from where we would have totransfer. We continued to flirt until his bus came.

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   I gave him a hugand said goodbye. A few minutes later, I boarded the bus I needed totake home.

Sunday, I put on a yellow one piece mini dress and flip flops andwent to the mall. Out of my peripheral vision I could see menturning their heads to look at me as I passed by them. Knowing thatso many guys wanted to bone me made me wet while I shopped. Iwondered how many of them knew I was just 14. Before I got back onthe bus to my house, I ate some admittedly bad but filling chainChinese fast food in the food court. A guy in his 30's subsequentlymade a pass at me. When I said I was only a high school freshman hebacked off immediately and apologized. "It's okay baby. I know Ilook older than I am," I excused.

Monday, I went into first period and greeted the guy who sat behindme by asking him how his weekend was. I intended to make a concertedeffort to be nice to everybody just to see what would come of it andto prevent me from garnering a reputation as being stuck up. Duringlunch, a couple of the guys who I met at the party walked up to meas I played my acoustic guitar and chatted me up. Neither of themasked me out.

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   I think they lost their nerve.

The girls from the popular clique who were in my classes played upto me Tuesday, though, asking me to hang out with them at one girl'shouse after school. "You really matured early," Andrea Mullencommented. "You could easily pass for being in college," sheestimated.

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I thanked her for the compliment and countered that shewas cute, too. We engaged in girl talk for a couple of hours while areally annoying Top 40 station played in the background. Fuck, howdo they listen to that shit?

From that day on, whenever they saw me, they would gather around me. I wondered if they were using me as boy bait. Then guys they knewwould come around and inevitably try to peer down my top. I expectedit, so I didn't mind. I snuck looks at their crotches in an attemptto guess what they might be packing. Thus, through very littleeffort of my own, I became a member of the popular clique.

There was a huge pile of musical gear on my doorstep when I camehome from my tete a tete with the popular girls. I dragged it all inand spent the ensuing hours moving and arranging it. That tuckeredme out enough that I actually ordered delivery pizza for dinner asan expedient.

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   I jammed for a little while on my new guitars and ampsand went to bed.

I got invited to another party Friday and mingled a little bitbefore calling a cab and splitting again because of sheer boredom. When Andrea asked why I left both parties less than two hours in Ihad to tell her the truth: they were snoozefests. None of the peoplethere had anything remotely interesting to say, imho. "Are youserious?" she asked, incredulous. "I'm very serious, Andrea. I wouldrather be hit over the head repeatedly with the business end of arailroad spike than spend any more time hanging out with thosepeople. " That offended her because those were her friends who wantedto cozy up to me, too. Suffice to say that I wasn't invited to anyother parties and that was fine with me.

In fact, I commenced actively avoiding that crowd by stationingmyself at a different area on campus before school and during lunchwhile I played my guitar. Stan Baumgartner, a diminutive nerd with abeard and black horn rimmed glasses passed me on the way to God onlyknows where and interrogated me as to why I wasn't "hanging out withthe rah rahs like usual?"  I made a gesture as if I was going tovomit. "That honeymoon sure was short," he laughed. "It was all aquestion off content, Stan. I was seeking it and they didn't haveit. " He looked at me quizzically, as if someone who had my physicalappearance wasn't supposed to say something like that.

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   "That sucks,Misty, but I'm not really surprised. " he sympathized. "Yeah, itkinda demonstrates what Sartre wrote about in 'No Exit'," Ielaborated. He stared at me funny again, chuckled and told me to"have fun" before heading to his destination.

I kept on seeking to be nice to everyone even though I was nowestranged from the popular clique. Occasionally, one of them wouldwalk up to me and ask where I've been and I just told them that Ihad personal issues to work out and needed some solitarycontemplation time. I didn't want to say that I found them to be thesort of over valued mediocrities that inhabited Sinclair Lewis'"Babbit. " They couldn't help it. They were born to be bland andblindered.

Before the end of September, I created a You Tube channel and set upmy music room so that I could record videos in it. I debuted with aversion of Van  Halen's cover of a blues song called, "Ice CreamMan," doing both the acoustic bit and then the electric rave upafter it as well as the vocal while attired in black leather andmirrored sunglasses. A few hours later, I performed a rendition ofYngwie Malmsteen's "Rising Force. " The responses by the site'sviewership were extremely laudatory.

God, even after only a month it was so hard to just sit in thosehard seats all day five days a week and not do rip jobs on the wholeexercise. I kept my mouth shut and acted dumber than I really was sothat the boys wouldn't think I was a raving bitch.

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   What made it evenworse was that I couldn't have a car since I was just 14 andtherefore unable to go anywhere that wasn't within walking distanceor a bus destination unless I took a cab, a limo, cadged a ride withsomeone I knew or hitchhiked. Now THAT is a panoply of suckychoices.

I began to get cabin fever and so the first Saturday in October, Itook a little battery powered Electro-Harmonix headphone amp hookedup to a Fulltone Plimsoul distortion box  (which can also run on abattery) and my Gibson Explorer and went to a local park, where Icamped out under a large shade tree and played to myself whilepeople watched. After a while, I don't know how long it was, Inoticed this guy who was old enough to be my grandfather gazing atme while he walked his dog. He must have been in his mid to late50's. More time passed and then he walked up to me. "Hey, niceguitar!" he complimented as he tried to keep his cocker spaniel fromlicking me to death. "I have one, too," he claimed. I thanked himfor the praise and asked about his gear. The discussion that aroseout of that impressed him enough, I guess, to want to hear me play. I handed him my headphones and pulled a slide out of the pocket ofmy shorts  and started in on "Freebird. " He actually sat there andlistened to me pull off the whole what, 11 minutes (?) opus. "Man,you can really rock that thing!" he bubbled. He then told me that heand some buddies get together on occasion to jam to classic rocksongs. I smiled and indicated that I loved that stuff and didn'treally care for the music of my own era (well, in my 14 year oldguise) very much.

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   "Yeah, I see kids saying that a lot when I watchYou Tube," he revealed. He asked me if I wanted to come over andjam. "Don't worry, my wife's there," he reassured me.

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That was goodbecause he wasn't my type.

I followed him, his name was Jerry, and his super cute mutt to hishouse three blocks away. When he pushed the door open, he shouted tohis wife that he brought somebody home to jam with. She came out andI said hi. Then we went into a back bedroom that used to be hisdaughter's but was now his music/media space. He had a Fender SuperSonic 2x12 combo amp, a Marshall combo and several guitars,including an ebony colored Explorer. He let me plug into theMarshall and tweak the settings while he inserted one end of hisguitar cable into his Explorer and the other into his powered pedalboard, which ran, into the Fender. He kicked on his pedal board andasked what else I knew. I asked if he could do Kansas' "Carry onWayward  Son. " He said he could and we did a pretty okay run throughit.

We kept at it for a couple of hours before he got tired. It was alot of fun and he was astonished by the level of my technical skill.

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  I gave him my number in case he wanted to have me over for anotherjam.

Three days later, he called me and invited me over to his placeagain the following Saturday to play with his buddies. I called acab on the appointed day and loaded a Marshall half stack, my FlyingV and my Strat along with my pedal board into it and, minutes later,Jerry helped me hump it into his music room. With him were three ofhis friends, a bassist, a drummer and a guitarist  The bassist wasactually the 16 year old son of the guitarist. His name was Damienand he was cute! Jerry got some Budweisers for everybody, includingme, and away we went. We jammed on everything from the Beatles toIron Maiden and it was a ball.

When we had enough, we sat around chatting. Damien sat next to meand we had our own little conversation. He went to a private highschool on the other side of town and said he thought I was amazing. I asked him if he wanted to come over to my place sometime and wecould play in my music room. I also lied and said that my parentsweren't home that much because they had both gotten laid off fromtheir regular jobs and each was now working two part time gigs tokeep hearth and home together. He said he would come over Tuesdayafter school. I informed him that I would make him dinner so that hedidn't have to go home for it and we could spend the whole nightjamming together. He really liked that idea and his dad was okaywith it.

Sunday, I cut some new You Tube videos.

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   The number of my subscriberswas continuing to grow, too, which made me feel good. I tried to benice to all the commenters, even the trolls, so that they would likeme more. Then I turned my attention to learning a bunch of Rushsongs and worked on those well into the evening.

Monday,  I focused on adding a bunch of Stratovarius tunes to myrepetoire. I decided I was going to teach Damien "TwilightSymphony. " So by the time he showed up Tuesday, I was definitelyready to rock. We did a couple of Maiden tracks and then I told himI wanted to teach him something. After just a couple of hours andwith me occasionally showing him on bass, he pretty much had itdown. By then, it was getting close to dinner time, so I put myStrat down to begin preparing it. While we ate, we were flirtingwith each other.

When we finished, I told him to have a seat on the livingroom couchand watch tv while I did the dishes. When I finished with thatchore, I dropped myself in right next to him and we flirted somemore. He then went for it and kissed me, which evolved into heatedmaking out. My top and bra mysteriously got lost in the meantime andhe was soon sucking on my thick nipples while I had pulled his cockout and was stroking it. Damien was lanky and close to six feet andI could tell his dick was as long in its own way as his body.

 

   Ileaned down and sandwiched his baby maker between my lips and bobbedmy head up and down, provoking him to squirt his pent up load intomy yapper.

He went to his knees on the floor, pulled my skirt and panties offand licked my hairless snatch to several orgasms. He was hard againand was obviously intent on fucking me now. I asked him if he wouldthink I was a slut if I let him. He reassured me he wouldn't andthen spiked me with his weapon. He split my uprights with convictionwith his 7. 5 incher and caused my vaginal muscles to convulse onlyminutes later as my legs rested on his shoulders. His cockconstantly burrowing into me, I was sent on a trip to the state ofdelirium as it slipped in and out of me before he spooged my cervixwith his sperm filled goo.

I quickly got up to go to the bathroom to wipe his cum off of mycrotch so that it wouldn't leak all over my couch. I put my pantiesback on when I returned and we cuddled and kissed for a while beforehe went home.
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