Edging Straight - Volume Two: Edging Straight, #2

By Tatter Jack

Her fingers slide over the neck like they're stroking cock. D-A-B Minor-G. She'd strung in Drop-D, and her bottom three frets are spitting power chords like her axe is cuming. It's time for Night Music...

Spider had always known some day his ass would be rockin' in some jailhouse. The ghost of Elvis wouldn't have had it any other way. But if you're gonna wake up inside, there's worse ways than with your cock in a nurse's mouth, right? Jailhouse cock

It's a full moon tonight. I'm over the side of town where they don't get street light, because it makes hunting easier. And I see you. And I don't want it to be you, but the Hunger's on me. So I start to follow... Lone Wolf

It's cold tonight. There's a wind blowing. But like Suzie says, that just keeps a girl's nipples hard, and saves on advertising. My shirt's as low cut as it can get without falling apart, but that's just like a burger joint menu with tonight's Special Offers - all part of the night's work. Jenny on The Corner

It's dark. And it's cold. But that's the way of it this night. Every year, this night. Because this is the night you come back to me – and this is the only night I can be hard now. And I am. I'm so very, very hard. Three little words

• Language: English
• Publisher: TatterJack-ery
• Release date: Nov 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519992734

Tatter Jack

Tatter Jack. A vagabond with delusions of literature. A wandering minstrel who can’t sing or play a note. Oh - and writer of erotica. Yes,I know. I'm sorry. The 'e' word, I mean. It's the Great Sin of Marketing(tm). You have to get certain words in, and 'erotica' is one of them. So I write about people. Who sometimes - OK, fairly often (blush) - have sex. While they're being people :-). So this is me. Tatter Jack. It's a cold night out, so cum on in. Maybe we can warm things up...

Book preview

Dedication

To GWA.

For keeping me straight – and the rest as well.

Night Music

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My fingers slide over the neck like they're stroking cock. D-A-B Minor-G. I’d strung in Drop-D, and my bottom three frets are spitting power chords like my axe is cuming, spitting hot, white and sticky all over my fingers. I kinda wish it was, and I make a mental note to ask my axe-man if he can maybe mod it. I plant my feet wide to ride my leather skirt up a little, show a bit of cunt. We’ve hit ‘Slam-Jam’, and the set's pretty much done, so it's time. I run my eyes over the front row. The blonde with fake chest hair doesn’t cut it. The bald guy looks possible, but dear god, the sixties are calling, and Frank Zappa wants his moustache back. Then I see him. Black hair, slicked back – and ice blue eyes that could cut diamond and give change. I drag my axe up over my skirt, pulling it higher to show some more heaven, and I jerk my hips, my cunt dropping a target right between the two chips of ice. I look at Johnny-K, my Security bull at the side of the stage, and nod my head to Mr Ice. But Johnny’s been watching my cunt already, and he's on his collar mike. I see two of the floor team move in, and I drop my fingers into ‘Split Bitch’. One more, and the set's done. Then the music can really start.

My dressing room's just like it's supposed to be. Back in the day, I’d have been lucky to share with the cleaning supplies and spiders. These days, Hell Bound are a big deal, and I'm Hell Bound. So the cleaning supplies get to rot in peace, and I get – well. I'm Konnie Kreem, and I get whatever I damn well want. Right now, what I want is Mr Ice. The knock on the door has the right code, and I know I'm going to get it, just like I get everything. I press the button, and Johnny-K brings him in. I wave my hand at Johnny. Go get the girls, because I’m Konnie Kreem, and there’s no point in a show without an audience. So Johnny goes, and after a minute the backing crew come in. They look at me, and they look at Mr Ice, and their dresses come off. Dresses – but no bras or panties. My girls know damn well they’d better not be wearing anything like that. Stockings, garters and high heels, and a pretty smile. The smiles get prettier as fingers find cunts, and mouths find lips and nipples. But they all keep their eyes on Front – on me.

I pull my skirt higher, and I start to finger my own snatch. Hey. Groupie. Mr Ice, he raises an eyebrow. Eyes front, bitch. Mr Ice, he starts forward. Miss Kreem. I’ve... I’ve always been your biggest fan. I love ‘Slam Jam’ and... I raise one long leg, my five inch heel like a dagger to his crotch, and I kick. He falls down. I tear open my leather waistcoat, spilling my breasts, and I tear off the stage skirt, with its Velcro waist. It’s not just my crew who don’t wear underwear. My cunt is dripping already. I spit down on Mr Ice. "It ain’t Miss. It’s Mistress. And you don’t give a shit about ‘Slam Jam’, never mind love it. You