M-Radio Max Millan
The Gig
The sound was cranked to the highest level, and the energy was palpable. The booming bass speakers reverberated through Carson's body. Right on the makeshift stage inside a small but popular was Mike showing his virtuosity. He wielded his guitar like an Olympian god throwing lightning to his worshipers. With every strum, the crowd jumped and shouted their adoration. His shoulder length hair swung and flung his sweat into the air forming a mist that glitters every time spotlight hit him before settling down in front of his face like a veil shielding him from the crowd. In that instance, he could only think of the world he longed for. He tried but came up short. Once of these days, he kept telling himself. As he lived in his dream, the lead singer was relegated to being the leader of the cheering squad running from end to end coaxing the audience to impart their energy.
Carson came in halfway through the show out of boredom and had to find his bearing in the standing room only bar. He managed to snaked through the crowd and ended by the bar. Patrons were busy shouting their order while the two bartenders were busy serving drinks and fending off any unruly ones. Carson elbowed his way in for a spot. One of the bartenders set a glass of Jack and Coke in front of him. Somewhat puzzled he took out his wallet to pay for the drink.
"You buddy paid for it," the bartender said pointing at man standing at the far end of the bar. Dom waved when he looked. With one hand raised in the air protecting his alcoholic concoction, he once again snaked through the crowd to get to where Dom was at who found a nook between the bar and the restroom wall away from any traffic.
"How long you've been here?" Carson asked.
"A good bit," Dom replied. "Did you just walked in?" he added.
"Yeah."
"Glad you made it."
"I never thought it's gonna be this busy."
"Apparently, Mike has a following."
"No kidding!" Carson finally surveyed what was going inside. "He could probably do the show on his own. Look at how these people go." He was slightly amazed by Mike's drawing power. Even for a wannabe rockstar, his talent was palpable.
"How's the band?" Carson asked.
"They're good. They play a lot of good stuff."
"So what made you come and see the show?"
"Mike dropped by the bar before the show. Liz, the bartender the other night, wanted to go but don't know the place exactly. They both insisted that I come."
"You mean, you're here from the start."
"Yeah, I even helped setting up their equipment."
"How long they've been playing?"
"Maybe two hours or so. They have another hour."
The last note of Mike's ad lib was cut by the lead singer resuming his duty as center of everyone's attention.
"I don't recognize this song. Do you?" Dom asked.
"Me neither. Must be one their originals," Carson replied.
"It sounds pretty good," Dom replied.
"They need a better singer though."
"He's alright. He did great on other songs."
"I guess, he's OK," Carson replied still a little dismissive.
The band played on until the crowd slowly thinned out to just the hardcore followers. Carson raised his glass to get the attention of the bartender for another refill. The two stayed in the same spot standing and leaning on the bar with their heads sometimes bobbing to the rhythm of the music.
"How's work by the way?" Carson asked.
"Good. Just started working full time on the custom house."
"Did you just got out of work when you came here?" It was obvious to see. Dom was still wearing his paint spotted boots under the his faded blue jeans.
"Yeah"
"Lol, you stink," Carson joked who was ready to party in a clean shirt with colors still bright like new and a pair of loose jeans with extra pockets and on the sides. His burly built made even the loose jeans hugged his body just below the waist before his pants flared down his legs.
"I have a manly job, boy scout," Dom shot back. "That's how a man should smell," he continued. "Look at you, smelling good, are you expecting to get laid tonight?"
"You just don't know. I'm always ready like a boy scout," Carson replied laughing.
"Yeah, right!" Dom sarcastically said.
"What? You don't believe me? This boy, here, gets some actions," Carson bragged pointing at himself.
"Does that mean your hand puts in a lot of overtime," Dom joked.
Carson grinned and before saying, "Well, I like putting it to work. It hasn't complain yet."
The two laughed among themselves oblivious of the what was going on around them. The hour went by quickly, and Mike, with some of his sweat soaked strands of hair still on his face, greeted them.
"I'm glad you guys made it. How did we do?" he asked them with his thumb pointing down and up alternatively.
Dom flashed a thumb up to recognized his hard work. Mike face lit up with just a simple gesture of acknowledgment and continued greeting the other people who stayed to see him.
"They have another gig lined up for next," Dom mentioned.
"Oh yeah, here again?"
"You coming?"
"I don't know."
"Oh c'mon. Get here early so we can find a spot closer to the stage. We could heckle him."
"Not sure. I'll let you know."
"How will you do that?"
"I might drop by the bar sometime this week."
"I like the place but I'm not there on a regular basis."
"Give me your phone number then. I'll give you a call," Carson suggested.
After a quick exchange and confirmation of phone numbers, the two made their way out of the bar. Dom checked his watch. Although it was already way past midnight, the night was still early for young crowd like them, whose energy were just peaking up.
"Where you up to now?" Dom asked.
"Check out some places closer to where I live, I guess, to top off my blood alcohol level. I should have went out earlier. How about you?"
"Home. My feet are killing me."
"Sure, you don't want to drink some more."
"Nah, maybe next time."
Carson kept checking on his watch waiting for his day to be over.
$$$$ gig then diner $$$$
"That's a better show than the last one," Dom said as they took their seats.
"I'm trying to finish something. I've been procrastinating."
"Sounds so important."
"Nah, just building a website."
"Porn," Dom joked.
"Nah."
"Are you sharing pictures of funny cats?"
Carson hesitated with his comeback but laid it out anyways, "no pussy yet."
"So what's it about?"
"Just my rants, musings and what not."
"of what?" Dom pursued his inquiry.
"Oh, nothing and everything. Whatever I feel like writing about."
It stroke Dom's interest. "What's the site?"
The waiter came to their table. "Are you guys ready to order?" he asked.
"Give us a few," Carson replied.
"How about something to drink?"
"I'll have an iced tea," Carson said while Dom requested for a diet soda.
"Here," Carson handed him a piece of table napkin with the address of his site written on it. It was then when fate brought them together.
"Cool, I'll check it out."
"Are you old enough?" Carson said. ". . . I mean, matured enough," he joked.
"What? Are you posting naked pictures of girls you are stalking?" "Nothing perverted like that."
"Dick pics?" Dom said snickering.
"No pictures of my junk yet."
"What's in it then?" Dom continued with his inquiry.
"Well, it's for you to find out, he he," Carson just smiled.
Dom waved his hand towards the other showing his disappoinment. "LOL, I've seen almost everything," he said.
"Just saying," Carson quipped.
Then waiter once again asking if they were ready to order. They both decided for steak and eggs with a side of hash brown. A few minutes later their plates were ready. Standing the whole night watching the show was tiring that the greasy the food in front of them looked appetizing, which was chowed down quickly a habit that both of them had carried out of the service.
It was around two in the morning when they parted ways from the diner. Dom cruised his car to the driveway to avoid waking up his landlord and risking another doze of nagging come morning. He stepped into his humble studio apartment in the basement of the old lady's old house. It was for charity he said. He sat in his leather recliner one of the few remnants of his days in the service that he carried with him like an inanimate friend. His work boots were set nicely right next to it and little of dust scattered in the air as he pulled his socks out in one swift motion. He crumpled them in his hand and gave them a quick sniff before inserting them to boots. Dom was still tipsy from the alcohol. His tiredness countered by the early breakfast that imparted him a jolt of energy that keeping him wide awake. He looked around for something to occupy his time waiting for the sandman to sprinkle sleeping dust in his eyes. With nothing else to do, he fired up his computer then he waited for the clicking and blitzing sound of the modem to die down. How he wished to get a hand on one those new equipment that he'd seen people installed in new offices they built. Maybe next year, the satellite people would offer the service in their area. Broadband had been the latest talk in modern technology promising almost everything to the public of the possibilities it would bring. Universities and businesses were the first ones to jump in. The cost was keeping it away from any mortal man for now. The top of the line dial-up modem would do. He opened the browser and keyed in what was written on the napkin. He was disappointed when nothing came up. He thought Carson might just be pulling his leg. He inspected the napkin once again to check for any mistyped letters. Instead of a small letter O, he changed it to small letter A. Slowly the site loaded up.
Dom cracked a smile when he saw the title, "Mundane Thoughts." The fancy name didn't match the man behind it. The website was rudimentary, just white text on black background. A few unaltered and some not working links of the template that was used to build the site were still visible on the left side. His current posting was on the main page followed by links to his older ones. Dom skimmed through the entry. It was Carson venting his frustration about some lazy co-worker. He clicked on the guestbook and entered a coded entry for Carson to know that it was him. The page felt more like regular log and, by the looked of it, Carson had been busy for a year or so. He jumped into the middle of link, it was nothing unusual just Carson talking about getting a street bike and planning to ride it along the coast. Dom was starting to feel let down. Carson had his hopes up for something juicier that what he had read so far. He clicked on another link. Nothing. Then the next one he opened had a few comments based on the visitor counter right below the title that said Gun Oil Was My Bestfriend. Dom giggled. He knew exactly what it meant.
Dom continued on reading Carson recollection.
If you ever wonder what is the best way to rub one out, there is no better way than using lube specially if you are cut. The skin irritation that can come the friction between your palm and your joystick taking your time might not be an option. Look on the shelves in places like Walmart and Walgreen's and you will now find some selections for men's lubrication. Yeah, almost all of us hot-blooded men do it and enterprising people know how to make money out it.
When our platoon members got time off, we went out on the town in places like Okinawa and some other Southeast Asian countries, plenty of options.
However, when my unit was deployed to the Middle East, life had changed for me and my unit. It's place where the good ole United States doesn't have much presence. The closest base was in Saudi Arabia but even there, I heard, was a downer. When we arrived, there was nothing there. Just torn buildings, sand and more sand. Our base of operation was a collection of makeshift buildings. Servicemen accommodation was very basic, just one of those big dome tents. The days were hot and the nights were cold. And during our time off, we fiddled. There were no booze and porn was hard to come by. I had a morale problem Sergeant McQuibin told me. Fortunately, I was one of the lucky ones who've always been stationed together with my current company, my bestfriend Hunter, my sergeant, McQuibin and few others from the my home base in United States, so I no longer had any reservation about taking care of myself when I needed to. Hunter would normally find himself my silent accomplish when he blocked the view while I jacked off in my cot. It's not like I was embarrassed to be caught, others do it too. It's not uncommon to hear those familiar muffled grunts at night, but I'm one of the few who's adventurous enough to do it even during the day.
Things got frustrating when our duty extended outside the base. While sitting in a trench one day swatting flies and waiting for whatever, my pent up sexual frustration peaked. It's a dangerous place when we were outside our base, but we still found ourselves not doing anything else but look around most of the time. Hunter was on look out and sarge was trying to get some snooze time right below. My rifle was leaking oil. I used more than usual the last time I cleaned it. I told Hunter, how slick it actually feels on my fingers. Sarge joked that I might be thinking about using it for something other than keeping guns clean and firing accurately. I might had grinned revealing my intention. "Carson, what should I do with you? Just whip it out and crank it, " he told me. With the blessing from the officer in charge, I moved to the other end of the trench with my vial of gun oil.
"He's actually gonna do it," I heard my friend Hunter said.
"Let him be. Better if he jack off than his head full of sexual distractions," Sarge replied.
"Oh, his head will never be empty of it."
"You got that right."
I gave them both a finger before kneeling facing away. I dropped my cammies down to my knees giving them a full moon view of my butt. Using gun oil for masturbation turned out quite nice. It felt so slick. My hand glided easily on my cock that it didn't take long before I was grunting out my load. I left weeks worth of bodily fluid on the wall of the trench.
While I was fixing my uniform, I heard Sarge from behind, "Felling better?"
I gave him a thumb up.
"How was it?"
"It was actually a good lubrication," I said.
He stood up. "Nice, can I use it?" he said asking for my vial.
I tossed the gun oil vial at him and took his foxhole that's been nicely carved out of the sandy soil. Sarge assumed the same position I did at the other end and stroke one out himself. Then Hunter relieved himself too. He commented about someone hitting a spot so high. Not sure if it was me or Sarge, but I knew mine went flying proudly. Hunter grabbed a spade to hide the evidence. Another group will be taking over the foxhole later. It didn't make much for young virile man to trigger one's horniness when you were carrying days or even weeks worth of load. That was the situation we were in. Kidding you not, masturbation has been proposed as a mental and physical survival skill by those in the military for a long time. Someone told me that even during Civil War, soldiers were cranking it out.
The thing about industrial-grade gun oil though is that it isn't meant for use on your skin. It's not what they call as hypoallergenic. If you happen to be allergic to one of its ingredients, you will have an embarrassing trip to the infirmary, stick with the vaseline if you need lube. The much older supply manager teased me when my gun oil replenishment requests became more frequent, "Don't use it too much, boy. You're gonna regret it." Point taken but gun oil was like the best thing ever when I ran out of standard issued lubrication, which I did often. I won't lie, I love masturbation.
"Well men, now that was taken cared of, let's all go back to keeping this place safe," Sergeant McQuibin commanded. "You guys know me, just jerk off if you need to. Hang your helmet on your rifle, so I'll know what you are doing. Don't fuckin' say anything about this to anyone. We'll gonna get in trouble," he sternly reminded us. But the relative seclusion of the dug out hole in the ground was very inviting.
Maybe next time, I'll tell you about our Jack Shack behind the storage area.
Dom laughed to himself after reading the entry and remembering something similar during his stint. He would like to read more but his eyes were getting heavy.
Weeks passed by, Dom was sitting in the bar sipping his usual Jack and Coke. Like an invisible clock the paint spots slowly accumulating on his work pants counted the days since he moved. He didn't know why he kept coming back to that bar. It was nothing special. Drinks came in cheap. Maybe because people were friendly not like most of the bars that he frequented out West where he found himself stranger to the constantly changing faces of those busy places. The familiarity of people in the bar made him comfortable.
The young bartender was busy talking to her friends at the other. They looked like a group of college kids full of energy. They're laugh was interrupted by the door opening. The dwindling light of the day was still bright enough to startle anyone inside the darkened bar room. Carson walked in. He must have gotten out of work too. His blue uniform with matching blue shorts that ended right above his knees was enough to make Dom chuckled.
"How are you doing Boy Scout?" he greeted him while the other man took the seat next to him.
"I'm doing great. How about you?" Carson replied. He signaled at the bartender who already knew his choice of alcoholic brew.
"I'm good. Where have you been?"
"Nowhere just busy at work. Tired most of the time."
"What brought you back here? It's quite a ways for you."
"I was thinking I might run into you."
"Don't you have my number?"
"I do?"
"Yeah, I gave it to you after show at the diner"
Carson browsed through his phone and found it. "I didn't remember."
"Jeez, were you that drunk?"
"Well, all I remember was waking up on my couch with aching neck."
"That's funny."
The door opened and a group of middle-aged men came in. The regulars were trickling in. The place decibel level raised a little while they settled down in their usual spot. The young bartender fended them off and put them in place when she heard some naughty comments from them. Surely, like many times before the bar simmered down. Each conversation changed to murmur as it blended with the sound of the television showing collegiate games and some showing the latest news. The brief commotion of the new arrival died down and the bartender was once again happily chatting with here friends. Dom and Carson looked on surveying the room.
"What a bunch of cheerful people," Dom commented about the middle-aged group.
"They are," Carson agreed.
"They all happened to grow up around here," Dom wondered since most of the people he met, in one way or another if you ask them, were from some other place except the place their currently living in.
"That's quite rare these days. Damn, I already moved four times in my life," Carson said.
Dom slouched on his seat a little and crossed him arms to relax. "I see you are running quite an interesting website," he said leaning towards Carson.
"What are you talking about? It's all for fun," his friend tried to defend himself.
"LOL, more like a masturbation how-to."
Carson laughed a little, "Well, everybody does it. I don't know why people are shy to talk about it. Plus I get more views."
"So about the Jack Shack you were talking about?"
"Oh, I'm supposed to be writing something about that. Thanks for reminding me. Did you company have one?"
"Yeah, our commander built an extra bomb shelter for us."
"Wow, they built one just for you guys to get off?"
"Actually, we built it from our extra supplies. Our officers just shook their heads when they asked what it was for. We have cots and even TV for porn."
"All we got was a stack wooden crates behind the storage room. You need to be careful, or you might get a nasty splinter in your butt."
"I guess marines are more creative than armies," Dom jabbed.
"B.S.," was the only thing Carson could come up.
"And you are right, gun oil was amazing. He-he"
"I know, right?" Carson said being proud of himself. He might not be the only one who figured it out, but he was proud of his discovery.
"But I heard someone had a problem with it. His cock was swollen for days."
"Ouch!"
"He was uncut. He let some residue in there, I think."
"Ouch again! Why does he need lube? That's one upside of having that extra flap of skin."
"Dunno. Different people, different things float their boat. I guess. Some like to abuse that extra sensitivity that they get around the head."
"I wouldn't trust someone who doesn't know how to properly jerk off."
"You got that right. I feel sorry for the guy. It was so funny when others started telling him how to properly jerk off."
"So, found a new place yet?" Carson said changing the subject.
"Nope, but I'm still considering."
"How come?"
"Still saving up. I hope to get something decent."
"That will take you a million years. Good luck with that."