INTRODUCTION: This is an interlude, which does not fit in with the previous stories of our Busted lads. I wanted to do another "First time" story with them, cos I find them more interesting, and also this is a commiseration story for all those bitterly disappointed at "Sleeping With The Light On" only charting at number three. See the bottom of the story for ways on how you can influence what comes next.
DISCLAIMER: I still don't know Busted personally, so cannot reflect upon their true sexualities. None of this happened to the best of my knowledge in real life and I'm SURE Busted don't drink to excess or use illegal substances. Too often. Don't read if it's illegal where you live, if you're disgusted by manlove or if you really shouldn't be. If you enjoyed the story, email me and let me know!
"Fucking CUNT minge-ing shit jesus suffering FUCK," shouted Matt, kicking a bottle of Southern Comfort over in his frustration. "Number CUNTING three? After we killed ourselves for about two months in a row promoting it?" He took another swig of the new bottle he had just started in his hand before continuing. As he fumed, he put a CD on instead of the cheesy Top 40 show that they had so earlier been glued to. The chilled sounds of Morcheeba filled the room.
James looked up, slowly, his heavy eyes trailing a little behind Matt as he watched him pace the room. The lads had all been drinking since early afternoon while listening to the official charts, but while Matt's inebriation had left him aggressive and pro-active, James was feeling certainly more philosophical about the situation. Translation? James was too pissed to care, while Matt was just beered up enough to get lairy. Sleeping With The Light On was the fourth song from the album, who cared if it hadn't charted as high as "You Said No"?
"We sold our FUCKING souls on every tween TV show in the country and for what? Number three? Fuckers." Matt looked down to see a red stain forming on his white sock, a small shard of glass fell out of the cotton and he kicked it to the side of the carpet.
Charlie looked up from his joint. He found that pot helped him relax far more than alcohol. He chuckled to himself, thinking that if he had been drinking tonight, he'd be the one with a slightly bleeding toe, equally beered up, with no outlet for his frustration. He was also thinking that pot had an unfortunate side-effect; frustration of a different sort. Still chuckling slightly, he tried to subtly re-adjust his growing lump (not quite hard enough yet to be a bulge) without the others noticing. He needn't have bothered -- James was practically asleep, his head dropping down onto his chest, a thin line of spittle leaking onto his blue Bench shirt from his lips. Matt was so absorbed in his rage and pain that he wasn't going to notice a hard-on through a pair of heavy denim jeans, no matter how impressive for Charlie's age.
Dejectedly, Matt sat down, ripping off his sock to inspect for further shards of glass. Happy that he was clean, he reached over and plucked the joint from Charlie's hand (still over his crotch from readjusting) and took a long, quick drag before holding it in. As his eyes watered and he resisted the urge to cough, Matt thought about how often he had tried to get reacquainted with weed, never to much success. There was no denying it -- he was a booze guy, it was his weapon of choice (after music and girls) whereas Charlie's comfortable upbringing had meant there was always plenty of puff in his life. James was altogether different; he was not averse to the bong now and then, but lately he'd been happy with a few vodkas.
Matt passed the joint back to Charlie, trying to ignore the oh-so-familiar growing hard-on in his pants as much as he tried to ignore the urge to giggle for no reason. He resisted neither. Charlie took a last pull on the joint before flicking the roach onto the carpet -- fuck it, the hotel would let them back no matter what -- and then leant back into the softness of the leather couch before exhaling straight up, and then directing the smoke all over James's sleeping face to his left. Unconsciously, Charlie rubbed his crotch a little and an idea formed in his stoned head. Giggling slightly he gestured to Matt to stay quiet. Matt was confused but went along with it, up for anything now that the cannabis was flowing through his head and his veins.
Charlie stood and leant towards James while undoing his fly. He reached inside his pants and pulled out his semi-hard cock, long and sleek, circumcised and as tanned as the rest of him. To himself, Matt wondered just how Charlie got so evenly tanned all over. Before he had time to dwell on it, he was astounded to see Charlie rub his cock all over James's lips! Already moist from James's loss of drool control, Charlie's cock was soon lubed up and dripping, and much harder than it had been. For his part, James did not notice at all, he was so far gone. In fact, he did not even notice when Charlie tipped his head back and opened his jaw, slipping his teen meat between James's lips. He slowly pumped into James's mouth, with shallow but quick pumps.
"Not the best blowjob I've had, but not the worst either!" Charlie said cheerfully as he threw his head back and got to work on James's hot mouth.
Matt stared blankly at the scene in front of him. He wondered if the weed was fucking with his head, whether Fletch had spiked their drinks or if, indeed, Charlie really was fucking James's face. The image swam infront of him a little and he blinked repeatedly to clear his vision -- and the view of James slurping on Charlie's cock hadn't changed.
Charlie had been watching Matt's surprise with interest. "Come ON," he said. "Don't tell me you've never fucked around with a pissed mate like this?" Matt could honestly say he hadn't but silently wondered to himself if he had ever been the victim of such a game in some of his worse states. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Charlie: "Well, Matt?"
"Huh?"
"I said, do you want a go? He could probably fit both of us..." As he spoke, Charlie reached over from where he stood, careful not to let his cock out of James's mouth, and grabbed Mattie by the waistband of his low dark blue jeans. He pulled slightly to get him to walk towards the pair, and as he did his flimsy belt gave way (as it had done so many times before), and his jeans fell to his knees. He didn't even notice as Charlie slipped his hands into his boxers to free his cock from them. He did notice, however, that Charlie hand lingered a little too long inside the boxer shorts, jacking his cock slightly before lowering the completely. Charlie certainly knew his wanking technique; Matt made a mental note to talk to him once their various hangovers had worn off. Matt's cock was shorter than Charlie's, but fatter and uncircumcised. It stuck straight out, a pale contrast from the nest of black hairs surrounding it, maybe just under 7 inches.
Still dazed, Matt felt Charlie's hand on his ass, pushing him forwards into James's hot mouth. As he entered the right hand side of James's moist mouth he was amazed that Charlie was also rubbing his butt! The most amazing part of the whole experience was that with every small thrust the two's cocks would meet and touch briefly in the middle of James's mouth. Charlie had been right, Matt thought; it wasn't the best blowjob he'd ever had, but it would certainly do, and part of him felt that it was even hotter for the bandmates he was sharing it with. This thought had him very hard and the feelings going through his cock weren't helping any either. Charlie was obviously experiencing the same feelings as his breathing was becoming much heavier and his head was now hanging back again, his eyes rolling up in their sockets. He was pumping into James's mouth more forcefully now, caring much less about waking his sleeping friend than about getting off himself. Finally, he clenched his bare feet in the carpet and let out a deep, throaty grown and stayed thrusted in James's mouth. Matt could feel Charlie's cock seem to grow for a second next to his, before his own entire cock was surrounded by warm jizz in James's mouth.
This got Matt even closer to the edge of his orgasm, and once Charlie pulled out he began thrusting into his friend in earnest, desperate to get off. Charlie's hand still guided Matt in and out of James's mouth by pushing on his ass, but now as Matt's breathing got heavier, a change happened. Suddenly it wasn't Charlie's palm on Matt's cheeks, it was Charlie's finger at Matt's hole, tickling gently around entrance and pushing up against it in time with Matt's thrusts. Matt was very close now, he could feel his balls contracting up into his body and his cock seemed to get harder.
Charlie could sense Matt was about to cum, and he knew exactly what to do next. Matt let out an involuntary, slurred "Schit!" when Charlie's index finger slipped inside him, and Matt flew over the edge, knees buckling and almost supported entirely by Charlie's hand up his nearly-virgin hole. He pumped into James's mouth like she was one of the willing groupies outside their hotel every night, not like he was a respected best friend and bandmate. Finally, the wave of his cum subsided, Charlie's finger slipped out and he sat down, astonished by everything that had happened, out of breath and suddenly very sleepy.
James slept on, oblivious, slowly swallowing drop by drop of his mates' cums.
TO BE CONTINUED?
So here's the deal, kids. Should I make this a two-parter interlude, with James getting some orgasm fun too during this intoxicated evening? Or should I just jump back into the previous story with the lads and the "hotel cleaner", Jamie? You decide, email me monging_ming@yahoo.co.uk which you'd prefer to see next. Any other feedback is great too, bring it on! And if you still haven't heard of Busted, DL a video or something, see the hot (and talented) band you're missing out on.