1. Excess


    Date: 9/10/2015, Categories: Lesbian, Author: BradleyStoke, Rating: 4, Source: LushStories

    “Clitlicking.” “Yeah, that! And it’s not just him. These three women, old fans of the band from way back, Piggy, Di and Grace, said they were disgusted, that they couldn’t go to another gig by the group again, that you’d crossed the line from dyke irony to straightforward male-oriented pornography.” “Piggy, Di and Grace! Fucking prudish dykes. Who fucking cares about them!” “Well, I do, Sunbeam. I care. They’re your audience. They’ve been loyal to the band since our first gigs in the basement of the Itchy Hamster. They say you’ve got like fucking Rockbitch.” “Rockbitch! They’re just a load of fucking media whores. And anyway I don’t go for all that witching black magic stuff. You won’t see me stick a candle up my quim in a moonlit field. We were just having fun on stage, that’s all!” “Well, look Sunbeam. I love you. I always have. I always will. But I can’t carry on being your manager if you continue doing what you’re doing.” “What d’you mean? Doing what I’m doing?” “Not just you. The whole band. Having sex on stage. I’m managing a rock group not a bunch of lap dancers.” Tabitha then became aware that the rest of the band was watching her as she argued with Sunbeam. “Don’t worry, Sunbeam. I’ll let you dance on my lap any day!” Carla sniggered. “It was only a laugh, Tabby. It was nothing more,” Joanne protested. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t do nothing!” asserted Prissy, towelling the sweat off her brow with a tubby hand. If Tabitha thought she’d resolved the issue to her ...
    satisfaction, she was quite mistaken. From now on, the gigs were harder to get, but when she arranged them, they were attended by more and more people, and a greater and greater proportion of the audience consisted of men. And Tabitha had to find larger venues. Pubs were no longer big enough. And, for her, the final moment of irony must have been when she actually got a gig at a converted cinema that for a while had also been a lap-dancing club, a period of its history enshrined in the name: The Pussy Parlour. And the gigs got wilder and wilder. Only Prissy stayed out of the on-stage sex, which was now engulfing the music to the extent that less than half of Sunbeam’s time on stage was spent playing the guitar or singing. Rather more was spent cavorting with the other girls, sometimes engaged in simulated intercourse, but on one memorable occasion, for a full fifteen minutes, for unsimulated three-way sex between Carla, Sticky Goo and Krakatoa, while Daffodil and Marsh Mallow kept up a rather monotonous rhythm in the background. Tabitha told herself after every gig in which there was a further extension of the sexual license that had become an expected and inevitable part of the performance that this was it; that just one more repetition of this, just one more humiliating evening, watching the men in their Black Sabbath or Blue Oyster Cult tee-shirts crowd around Sunbeam, getting autographs signed on their penises or on their bottoms, with the prospect of once again tipping the ...
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