Aftershow

So am I lying to you, pretty woman, as I shove my fingers in my throat again and retch up last night’s curry and beer? It all tastes the same anyway and burns the back of my throat and stings my nose as it rushes and gushes out of me. I raise my head and stare at the bog. My shoulders are shaking with the effort of losing all this stuff and my neck is tense from all this strain. So I am back on the road again, a rocking and a rolling with the boyz.

Tuning up and strutting all my stuff, although most of it seems to end up down here. I wipe my mouth and clear my throat, still some remains and I gag again to get rid of the same. I rise to find I have a hard-on, not of my own making, so I better make some use of this and I jerk and jerk until I come. I don't groan in case the others hear me. I collapse in a corner and just stare at my hands. My milky come just runs down my wrist and seems to enter my veins. I just sit and sit. I start to shake with the cold and also I am coming down from the coke.

I start to lick my hands and taste the come in the back of my throat. I retch again and throw up bile down the bog. I have nothing left to give, nothing left inside me, except him.

After the gig I'm in a whirl as the girls walk past. I catch a glimpse of panties and thigh and breathe a very heavy sigh. I see breasts bounce and nipples rub up against fabric. My dick responds in similar fashion. My head’s in a whirl as all the chicks walk past. They cast nervous looks in my direction as if they are aching for my close inspection.

I smile and wink and hope I don't stink of that earlier puke. The lads are moving off and I follow, knowing what is to come. I hear the comments and catch the glances. I have already lined up who’s mine, and she is a willing follower.

I do the usual routine: ‘What’s yer name, honey? How far did you travel and can yer come? Did you enjoy the show, cos you are gonna enjoy this one much better…’

I put my arm around her and step in with her girly swing. Soon the alcohol is a-flowing and the seed is already being sown by some. I take my time with the chat-up line, but she and I know what we are both here for.

The lines are being passed around and so I bend my head down and when I raise it again nothing is the same again. The room whirls around and all I hear are disembodied sounds, people calling my name and intruding on my pain.

So I bend my head again and this time come up with the goods. My head is stinging, not from puke but from the stars I see before my very eyes.

The women all want my attention, people with big smiles and guiles all saunter past me as I sit and pretend to listen to the chatter. I smile a disembodied smile and nod my head as pills are passed and I down in one some sugar-coated illusion of happiness.

Now my head’s in a twirl as I see the girls all a-grinning and a-spinning way past me. ‘That’s Philip Lynott!’ they cry and I just wish to die as two sit on my knee. All short skirts and tits hanging out, but I don't shout as my erection shows and excites them some more.

*‘Come on, honey, let me see you lift up your frock.’ I don't even bother to move, just get the goods out and she shouts and slides on top. People don't seem to mind as she rides me in someone's front room. The TV’s on but no one’s at home as I hold her hips for better rhythm and slide. She comes and so do I and there’s a quick change around as her fat friend wants the same. I play the game and come again, then get bored as another horde seems to be a-lining up for some of my white stuff.

*Footnote; Taken from Showdown, 1974

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