“Babe, stop movin’ so fuckin’ much.  You’re messing up my lines.”

“Ope, sorry, Miss!  Tickles when you’re back there,” Pickles said in his defense.  He tried to look back over his shoulder to see what she was doing, but had a hard time doing so without squirming.  This is why hotels needed mirrors on the ceiling, he thought to himself.  He’d try to remember to tell Charles to accommodate going forward.  That was something to think about some other time.  There were more pressing matters going on.

He had snorted coke off of a lot of asses over the years.  It wasn’t ideal; he preferred snorting it off tits… like he had just done moments ago.  Not once in his decades-spanning career could he remember anyone ever doing it off his ass.  It may have happened when he was so black-out drunk that it was lost to time, but as far as he knew, Missy was the first with that privilege.

Missy was getting a lot of privileges here lately, now that he thought about it.  He couldn’t help but let her do and get what she wanted.  Being with her was intoxicating.  It was far more addicting than a lot of shit he’d taken.  When they were apart, he couldn’t wait for his next fix.  He had more fun on this tour than he’d had in a long time.  She was a rush, a high that kept him up to the point he didn’t even mind going down on her.  Maybe because he considered her a peer instead of a fucking groupie, but he got the feeling that he had to try with her…  Try to keep her impressed and try to keep her around as long as he could.  So, here he was, laying face-down on this hotel mattress with his pants pushed down just enough to leave his ass out for her. 

“You got any cash?” Missy asked after getting her rail lined up to her liking.

“Wallet.  Right pocket…”

She reached into his pocket, grabbed his wallet, then pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill before sliding the billfold back where it belonged.  After rolling the bill, she plugged her right nostril, stuck it in her left, and used it to snort the line of white powder off Pickles’s pale ass.  She then sat up, tilted her head back, and rubbed her nose with the heel of her palm.  She experienced a slight sting, but she quickly got over it.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she let it all rush to her brain.  Pickles looked back at her with a goofy grin.

“Well?”

“Well, I’m not finished,” she said, leaning her face down again.  “So, stay still.”

“Don’t tell me you gotta ‘nother li—”

He hadn’t managed to get his words out of his mouth when he felt her tongue swipe across his cheek, collecting the remaining powder that her nose missed.  He wasn’t expecting that… at all.  It sent a tingle down his spine and his cock throbbed against the mattress.  Before he knew it, she crawled up, pressing herself against his back, practically laying on top of him.  Taking his chin, he pulled his head back enough to face her, then planted a huge kiss on his lips.  The weight of her body on his felt good; good enough to make him moan.  When he did, her tongue snaked its way into his mouth.  The remnants of the drug coating her tongue rubbed off on his, and his mouth began to feel numb.

“You like my tongue on your ass, don’t you?” she whispered into his ear when she pulled away.  Color rose to his face.

“You’re a nasty girl,” he said.  “You know that, right, honey?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Just answer the question.”

“You offerin’?”

“I mean…”  Her hand rubbed his behind before squeezing it.  “I’m not opposed.”

Pickles drew in a sharp inhale.  He held his hand out, and Missy recognized he was asking for his beer.  She grabbed it off the nightstand and handed it to him.  After he chugged it down, he tossed the empty bottle to the side.

“Alright,” he said after getting comfortable with the pillow he was laying on.  “Go for it.”

Donning a wide grin, Missy crawled back to the foot of the bed.  Hands rested on his cheeks and splayed them open.  Feeling the cool of the room between his crack made him tense up slightly.

“That door’s, uhh… locked, right?”

“Locks automatically,” she answered.  “Why?”

“Dunno.  Just don’t want one of the guys to strut in an’ see this.  ‘S kinda gay, doncha think?”

Missy didn’t answer immediately.  He lifted his head to see if she heard him, only to spot her staring at him with a flat expression.

“You sound like a pussy,” she said in a deadpan voice.  He watched her remove one hand to reach into her top between her boobs and pull out what was left of her eight ball.

“Lift that ass for me.”

He pulled his knees in, raising his ass so she had better access.

“Perfect,” she said, patting his butt.  “Now, don’t fart or we’ll have a snowstorm back here.”

“Oh, goddammit, Melissa,” he muttered, burying his face back into the pillow.  He was trying his hardest not to laugh, knowing it’d make a mess too.  He didn’t feel her sprinkle the coke on his ass, but he definitely felt the bill trace down his crack to his asshole.  Missy giggled after her big snort, then dove back down for the rest.  The heat of her breath was a welcome contrast to the temperature of the room.  He wasn’t given long to relish it before feeling her tongue press against his hole.  The tension left his body with a groan.  Pair that with her reaching between his legs to palm him as she went to town and he was in heaven.