Growing up I basically lived at show venues like Cedar Center in Lancaster, RIP. It was the life blood of my angsty teenage soul and it didn’t hurt that all my friends and the hot hardcore boys were there too. After I moved to WA I quit going almost entirely. I never minded going alone but the scene was different. This was the pacific NW, land of the granola and nice. This wasn’t Southern California hardcore. I wasn’t leaving with bruises, there was no crazy fights, no battle for the scene. I was used to extensions being ripped out and donkey kicks. This was elementary.
Then, at 24, I moved to Richmond, VA, home to bands like GWAR, Lamb of God, Down to Nothing and many more. I still didn’t have friends to attend shows with but the tours that came through town were insane. Especially compared to WA. It didn’t really matter though, I was so into Hip-Hop, I didn’t have time to deal with these baby hardcore kids. At least not at first.
Then the crossover happened and Richmond Hip-Hop and Hardcore began to merge. My friends were suddenly playing behind spots like Rest In Pieces and one of my closest friends even asked me to put him on to metal and hardcore. I felt honored and immediately did a deep dive back into my old favorites. It was nostalgia at its finest. My timing appeared to be perfect too, catching a wave of my favorite bands on tour from Being As An Ocean and Counterparts to Oceano and Chelsea Grin. It was my youth on repeat and I wasn’t about to miss any of it.
It had been a few months and I had been going alone. The one and only friend who was even remotely interested in the music was now on tour. But it was cool, I didn’t mind. Standing on the edge of the mosh pits, watching the weak and stupid get beat to hell as they attempted to dance. It was so cute. Then I saw him. The guitarist of a band I had never heard. They were heavy metal and mainly foreign. But not him, he was all CA. Covered in tattoos, sweat shaking off his head as he banged it back and forth to the beat. I was enamoured. My eyes locked on how the held his guitar. God were his fingers long…
As the band wrapped up I sadly watched him walk off stage. I was positive I’d never see him again. Never get the chance to lick sweat off his body. I wanted to do gross things to him. The separation between us was probably for the best. Remember how obsessed I was with Vanna?! *facepalm* (If you don’t know, then too bad, you never will) About 3 more bands had gone before it hit me. SOCIAL MEDIA. I could find him on there! With no intent beyond staring at him, I began searching.
It was creepy but what did I care. That’s what happens when you’re hot and lowkey famous. (Not really but famous to me) It took me five minutes of focused detective work and I had found him. My new hardcore boyfriend. I was stoked, scrolling through his pictures as I walked to my car. Then my phone buzzed and his Instagram handled appeared at the top of my screen. *new like, new like, new like* *followed* *DM received* My pussy reacted before I could. A surge of wetness rushing to my parts. I was in. Or I guess, more accurately, he was.
Our text exchange was fast and direct. I knew I wanted to fuck and he knew he had till 3am to be back on the tour bus. I shot him my address and phone # and almost immediately, he was on the way. When he showed up I felt like a champion. I knew I had gotten hotter and could pull some dudes but he was in another league. He was one of the hottest. His voice was high pitched and unique, his body slim and covered in tattoos. As I licked the blunt to split it and roll, I imagined his dick. I think he did too as I watched his eyes scan me slowly from the side.
He asked if he could lay on my bed to which I replied, “I prefer you do” in my most sultry tone. We were half way through the blunt when he undid my pants. A trend I’ve noticed when fucking basically everybody, but I didn’t stop him. I was ready for him to touch my clit. To feel his long, guitarist fingers inside of me. I wondered if he’d play me as well as his instrument. A girl could dream. It was the first time in a longggg time that I was proud of my pull. I must’ve gotten hotter than I thought. Or maybe he was desperate to bust. Either way. *happy dance with baby cheeks twerk*
After we fucked I pretended to fall asleep. I don’t like goodbyes with strangers and I didn’t want him to feel pressured to stay and hang. It was already late and I had work in the morning. Within a few minutes he had slipped on his clothes and shoes to hit the road. I heard my door click as it locked, then moments later heard the same thing downstairs. The night was over. I had bagged the ultimate hottie.
The next day he texted me to say thanks for the blunt and booty and promised to link next time he was in town. I didn’t need him to say it, but it felt good to hear regardless. It had been years since I fucked a hardcore kid, let alone someone in the band. I couldn’t help but feel happy I still had it. More now than ever, apparently.
That being said, I couldn’t help but to be disappointed in the lack luster sex. As if I hadn’t learned and confirmed in the past, hot guys rarely have the best dick. Oh well.