by Neglected2much
Unfortunately I haven’t been able to reach neglected2much for a few years and fear the worst. As he was the only one with the necessary access rights to keep the old site running, I have posted his stories here to save his incredible work.
— QexiQex
Disclaimer: This story is of the ‘naughty’ nature and intended for adults only. If you are not of legal age, are easily offended or not interested in kinky writings, please turn away now.
The Google Docs version (to download as ebook, pdf, etc.) is available here.
“If you polish things too much, it loses the feeling.”
— Geezer Butler
“If a song takes longer than 45 minutes to write, it was not meant to be written.”
— Alanis Morissette
The band is starting, and once again, I’m staring out at a sea of people from behind a low galvanized steel pipe barrier hoping nothing crazy happens. A bright yellow shirt with “SECURITY” written on it, doesn’t mean shit to the thousands of crazy, moshing, screaming fans worshiping the rock gods above me on the stage.
My shirt is a lie, and I’m just part of the show too. Management believes in the magic of the yellow shirt’s authority, even if I don’t. The real security is simply the extra high stage, and a couple guys that actually know what they are doing. I’m just one of those guys behind the music, doing what it takes: sound setup, guitar tech, roadie, truck driver, cook, procurer — former rock star wannabe.
The opening riff blows over my head like field artillery, and the music carries me away.
Rainbow: Since You Been Gone
“I get the same old dreams, same time every night.
Fall to the ground and I wake up.”
I used to have that dream, and that’s what happened to me.
“So I get out of bed — put on my shoes and in my head
thoughts fly back to the break-up.”
Oh hell, the breakups. Bands and bitches.
“These four walls are closing in
Look at the fix you’ve put me in.
Since you been gone.”
It all still hurts, and it don’t mean shit.
“I’m out of my head, can’t take it
Could I be wrong, but since you’ve been gone”
Never saw it coming, snapped my life like a twig
“So in the night I stand beneath the back street light
I read the words that you sent me”
I guess she was right, but that doesn’t make it right.
“You can’t know what you mean to me
Your poison letter, your telegram
Just go to show you don’t give a damn”
You were a bitch, but things were pretty fucked up.
That song always fucks with me. It brings up all the old feelings, but the audience doesn’t know my pain.
The riff that leads into the next song is amazing.
Rainbow: All Night Long
“You’re walking up with your eyes on me
It’s looking good but I just don’t know.”
I can’t help but notice how she squeezes through the crowd, sliding through like she owns it. People step back when they feel the touch of boob behind them — then they all check her out.
“You didn’t come just to see the show
I guess you know what you want see”
She gets closer to the stage, and I can’t help staring. A goddess of Rock in a carefully cut-up T-shirt turned halter top.
“The way you smile lets me know I can’t go wrong.”
She’s headed right towards me. Well, probably towards someone in the band above me.
“I wanna touch you, wanna feel you
I wanna make you mine.”
She dances a little, into the music, as she comes right up to the front of the barrier. Why does she keep looking at me? What’s she want?
“I wanna love you all night long
I wanna be with you all night long”
Her tits are…profound.
“I wanna love you all night long
I wanna be with you all night long”
Her smile and her eyes…. Breathe, that’s it, breathe mother fucker.
“I saw you standing there by the stage
Your black stockings and your see-through dress
You mouth is open but I don’t want to hear you say good night”
She leans towards me and I lean back slightly. I have my earplugs in, but can pretty much read lips
She asks if I was the lead guitarist in “Thundering Hoard.” How does she know that? One of the many implosions of my life, but it was great while it lasted.
“You’re sorta young, but you’re overage
I don’t care cos I like your style
Don’t know about your brain but you look alright
I wanna touch you, wanna feel you
I wanna make you mine”
Mad Dog, one of the other roadies, helps her over the barrier. I watch dumbfounded as she bends in her tight blue jean-looking leggings. Her ass is magnificent if a bit on the fat side.
“You’re mind is dirty, but your hands are clean
You’re short of class but your legs are long
I can’t stand to spend another night on my own”
“You were incredible, but those other guys were losers,” she says.
Right here, right now, no other words could have meant more to me.
“Hey girl would you like some wine?
What’s your name are you by yourself?
Are you the one, what’s your sign, can I take you home?”
Did I kiss her or did she kiss me?
Who the fuck cares?
As song changes, I feel like my life does too.
Rainbow: Still I’m Sad (cover of The Yardbirds)
“See the stars come fallin’ down the sky
Gently passing, they kiss your tear drops dry”
As I fade back under the stage with her, I see Mad Dog laughing his ass off over her shoulder and giving me the “it’s cool, I got it” sign.
“See the wind come, softly blow
Your hair from your face.”
A dozen or so inner voices start to think about what’s happening and start saying all sorts of negative crap. One of them yells over the others, and they fall silent. I don’t know what was said, but the voice sounded like Lemmy.
“And the rain comes falling down
In it’s crazy way
Still I’m sad.”
It has to be too good to be true. Nothing is ever this fucking good
“For myself my tears just fall in the dust
As I search in the night and find they’re lost”
I find my way through the wires, reinforcing struts and electrical gear to one of the main supports for the stage above. Hiding behind it, we’re in our own little world among thousands of people.
“See the wind come gently blow
Time into my heart”
I don’t even remember pulling my jeans down. The way she pulls up her shirt to offer her titties sears visions into my brain as the guitar solo rips up and down, soothing me deep down to my soul. I’m hard as steel when she leaps into my arms. Holy fuck! Her wet pussy slides right down over me like a glove, like it’s meant to be.
“Still I’m sad.”
My sense of reality is bleeding with a gunshot wound. I heard the bang off in the distance somewhere and felt the sting of the dream as it tore through my chest, but I never saw it coming.
“Still I’m sad.”
The guitar pounds through us, merging our bodies with the music; the drums our driving heartbeats. My senses are awash in the music and in my union with her — one and the same. I push her up against the support, fucking her standing up. My hands cup her magnificent ass as she hangs onto my shoulders like she’s trying not to fall off the back of a Harley. She wraps her legs around my lower back and snuggles her head in close to mine. I can feel her breathing rapidly as she works her body on mine. Her soft whimpers still somehow reach my ears despite the loud music.
The stack of Marshall amps above my head vibrates down the stage support right through her body like a reed. I can feel the guitar chords through her pussy while we grind on and on, lost in our surreal melody of interconnectedness.
Soon, I explode. I cum long and hard, forming another series of riffs in this song of our composing. From her breath, I know that she too is climaxing in counter note.
I’m surprised to hear her voice. “My band needs a new lead guitarist. Think of the music we could make. We play metal, and we play it hard.”
Her passion is more than just sex. I can tell, and I haven’t even heard her play, sing or whatever she does.
“We write all our own music, no covers. We write about what we live and experience.”
So many things are going through my head that I can’t even begin to think about words for them. Maybe my passion is back. Maybe it’s worth another shot. That former self who gave up and lost the faith is going to be left behind on the road tonight — if this isn’t some kind of fucked up dream.
She looks me straight in the eye, then turns her head slyly to the side and strikes a slightly bent slutty pose that any pole dancer would envy; her lower half still naked and looking post-fucked. She flashes her baby blues knowingly as she cups her own breasts through her black “Long Lives Metal!” T-shirt.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you believe in Rock and Roll?”
