Radio Daze

Story Info
Ginny follows a strange signal in the middle of the night.
2.8k words
4.09
25.4k
11
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
3,753 Followers

The haze of static turned into music so abruptly as Ginny crested the hill that she almost yelped in surprise. One minute she was getting nothing but a slow hiss that threatened to send her to sleep mid-drive, the next she heard the Beatles clear as day. "He says one and one and one is three...got to be good looking 'cause he's..."

Just as Ginny was starting to sing along, the words became a garbled mess as she coasted down the next hill, then faded back into static. She sighed, twisting the dial with one hand while using the other to navigate the winding downhill road, desperately seeking out another signal to help keep her awake. She would have laughed at the irony if she wasn't so annoyed-here she was, on her way to the biggest musical event she was ever likely to have a chance to witness, and she was driving a car without even so much as an eight-track.

No matter how carefully she adjusted the dial, though, Ginny couldn't get the Beatles back. She started turning the tuning knob slowly and steadily, going up and down in a desperate search for something other than white noise. With Babs chickening out at the last second, she was making the long drive to the festival all by herself. She needed something to keep her awake and driving.

A squeal of distortion melted into something Motown that Ginny didn't recognize, and she left it there for a moment. It was still music, even if it wasn't the Dead, and music beat silence any day. Ginny felt like she could never get enough of it-she studied it during the day, she practiced and played it all afternoon and every evening, and she still slept with the radio on. This drive was probably the longest stretch of silence she'd endured in years.

The Motown singer went faint and tinny as Ginny rounded another curve, and she fiddled with the dial a bit to try to keep the station coming in clear. She caught the end of the song and snatches of the beginning of another, but by then the music was more static than song and she gave up trying. She started searching for another station.

It took her almost five minutes to find anything, though. Ginny was technically past the Rockies, but she was still probably five hours' drive from the nearest big city and driving through winding foothills that seemed to block every radio signal with capricious malice. When she finally did pick up something, it was so distant and staticky that she didn't even know what she was listening to. Probably just her imagination, so bored by the moonless night and the endless stars overhead that she was transforming the crackling hiss into music through the power of suggestion.

Ginny turned the volume up, hoping to make out the melody. She thought she heard fragments of 'Cosmic Charlie', but that was probably just wishful thinking-this far out in the middle of nowhere, she was more likely to hear Tammy Wynette than the Grateful Dead. Still, she hummed the tune to 'Cosmic Charlie' anyway, making it fit the nebulous sounds she heard on the radio and imagining herself listening to them live in just a few days' time.

The song ended, and another one picked up after it. At least, Ginny thought another song was playing-she could definitely hear music now, albeit fuzzy music that sounded like it was coming from one of those distant stars overhead, but she could also hear someone talking in a voice too garbled to make out. Some sort of crosstalk, probably. She'd experienced it a few times on the long drive, when driving through an area that was right on the edges of the signal strength of two different stations that shared the same frequency. One second you were listening to one song, the next you were listening to two at once.

She turned the frequency knob with a safecracker's finesse, trying to clear out the interference and get the music to come in clearly, but all she got was a little less static in the mix. She couldn't get the speech out of the music or the music out of the speech, and neither one of them would resolve into anything intelligible.

The road curved north, though, and Ginny found as she followed it that she heard the music slightly clearer. She still didn't recognize the tune; whatever was playing, it was nothing she'd heard on her radio back home. It sounded vaguely psychedelic, with distortion coming from the instruments as well as from the signal, but not like anything she'd ever heard before. Ginny found herself fiddling with the knob again, trying to bring it into closer focus.

That almost turned out to be a mistake-Ginny lost the station entirely once or twice in her efforts to get it to come in clearer-but she finally got it to come in reasonably clearly. She still couldn't get rid of the man's voice underneath it all, but the music reduced his endless speech to an unintelligible murmur. Ginny let go of the dial and decided that would have to be good enough for now. She turned up the volume and hit the gas pedal, crossing her fingers and hoping that the music would last her through at least until sunrise.

Once the sun came up, she'd probably be good to drive the rest of the way. Maybe she'd have to pull over once or twice to rest her eyes, but she was sure that she'd get there in plenty of time. And then...Ginny let out a happy sigh, her thoughts already drifting ahead to the music festival. She imagined listening to the Dead, or to Santana, next to some cute guy with long hair and an easy smile. She pictured herself putting a joint to her lips-the last time she'd tried marijuana, she'd spluttered and coughed until she nearly choked, but in her fantasy, she let the smoke drift lazily in and out of her lungs.

The man in Ginny's fantasy smiled at her. She smiled back, knowing what was going to happen next and welcoming it. The other people around them wouldn't notice; they were wrapped up in the music, just like she was. And if they did notice...well hell, who cared? She had nothing to be ashamed of. She was proud of her body, and she was a grown woman. They would understand if she undid her skirt and let it fall open onto the soft grass. She was in the moment, that was all. She was letting it all wash over her and doing everything that seemed right and natural. It was perfectly real to her, and perfectly amazing the way he touched her between her legs. She gasped at how wet she was already.

His fingers were soft, strong, and confident as they found her clit. Ginny whimpered, thinking about his cock as he unzipped his fly and let it out in the warm evening air. She wanted it so much now, her body aching to be fucked with an intensity so great that it almost terrified her. On any other night, she knew, it would have. But she knew that this moment would be special. This was everything she had ever dreamed of, everything she had ever wanted. This was the perfect seduction, and she wanted nothing more than to give in to it and let herself melt under his touch. She would let herself be filled with the music, filled with the thick seductive smoke, filled with his-

Ginny's reverie was interrupted by a loud, rhythmic buzzing noise that seemed to reverberate through the cabin of the old pick up truck. She whipped her hand away from her crotch, a bit startled at how easily she'd fallen into her waking dream of unabashed lust, and gripped the wheel tightly as she steered off the rumble strips and back onto the road. It was veering slightly south again, she realized, and she hadn't even noticed. She thought about pulling over and closing her eyes for a little while, but she wasn't sure how long she would sleep if she did.

She rolled down the window instead, hoping that the cool night air would help clear out the cobwebs from her brain. She shifted in her seat, trying to keep her eyes moving so that she didn't succumb to highway hypnosis again. It didn't help that as the road slowly angled southward, the music grew fainter and more interspersed with bursts of static.

She drove a little faster, hoping the road would curve back to the north, but all she wound up doing was accelerating its descent into white noise. The voice that she'd almost stopped noticing degenerated into a warbling squawk, and Ginny imagined it urgently telling her to turn back now while she could still hear it. She caught herself drifting onto the rumble strip all over again, and angrily wrenched the wheel to the left to follow the road as it curved more sharply.

Then she saw it. An exit, heading almost due north. Impulsively, Ginny swung off of the highway without even putting on her turn signal. She was going to need to head north for a while anyway, she told herself, and why not do it now while she could listen to something good on the radio? When the sun came up, she'd stop at a gas station, get her bearings, and make the rest of the drive from there. She turned the radio up a little more as she drove, a smile spreading across her face.

The signal came in stronger and clearer with every passing mile. Within minutes, Ginny was humming right along with it. There was just something so infectious about the melody, the way it blended her favorite folk and rock sounds so effortlessly into a warm, lush cocoon of sound that wrapped her up and carried her along through the night. The voice under the music was still there, no matter what she did to adjust the frequency, but it got easier and easier to ignore as she drove further north. Ginny was used to tuning everything else out when there was music to listen to, and this was some of the sweetest music she'd ever heard.

Occasionally, the signal would fade out a little, and Ginny would have to take a left or a right onto another road to keep it coming in clearly, but it was strong enough now that she was in no danger of losing it. She imagined herself following the music like some of her friends had already started following the Dead wherever they toured, heading wherever the road took her and sharing the sound with anyone willing to listen.

Ginny could see herself getting lost in the music, lying on a blanket at an outdoor concert and letting the sounds just wash over her. She pictured herself in long, flowing skirts, letting a tab of acid dissolve on her tongue and feeling her mind expand to take in all the hidden meanings in every song. The fantasy promised her that she would never have to return to school, never have to listen to another dusty old teacher who dismissed rock as nothing more than sound.

And then he was back, the beautiful boy with the long, flowing hair that lay next to her and played her like she was an instrument herself. Her moans blended with the music, and Ginny knew that the fingers touching her were her own, but it didn't seem to matter. She knew she was safe. She knew that as long as she followed the music, she would find her way safely through the maze of country roads. She didn't need to pay attention to where she was going, not when she could listen and touch and simply be.

The fantasy grew deeper, more involved. Ginny watched the road with her eyes, but her mind was being driven to another destination entirely, a place where all she felt was purest bliss as she came under the touch of her lover's fingers. He had his cock out, now, slipping into her wet pussy, and Ginny whimpered loudly as her hand simulated his confident thrusts. She felt as though she was stepping into the fantasy, becoming the radiant and uninhibited woman she'd always wanted to be.

She took another left, another right, following the signal now as though it were a secret map leading her onward into bliss. In her mind, she saw another man joining the first, different but just as beautiful, and she could only think about how amazing it would be to pleasure him as well. Her pussy was filled already, but she knew that women these days could do anything they wanted without shame. She unzipped his pants and took out his hard cock, embracing it with her lips. He smiled down at her, his fingers curling into her hair, and told her how proud he was of her. Ginny suddenly felt warm all over in a way that the nighttime breeze could never cool.

The road was obscured briefly when she took her hand away from her pussy long enough to pull her shirt off and throw it out of the car window, but the view in her mind was nothing but the stranger's cock sliding effortlessly into her mouth. She felt like she could take him all the way into her mouth now, her musician's instincts finding new ways to play her lover like a virtuoso. Her pussy clenched hard around the other man's cock as another orgasm hit, and she felt his softening cock pull out of her with a tiny sense of loss. When a woman knelt between her thighs to lick away their mingled fluids, though, she felt fulfilled all over again. How could she not have understood before now that her body was made for this pleasure?

She couldn't stop now, not when she was so close. Not when they were so close-the man in her mouth, shooting his load down her throat as she swallowed each drop greedily, the woman between her legs licking her to another climax. Another cock came into view and Ginny took it eagerly between her lips. There would never be enough, she realized. Never enough pleasure, never enough love, never enough sweet music flowing into her ears and into her mind. "Yes," she said, agreeing with the voice that she couldn't understand. She didn't need to understand it, she only needed to agree.

She took a final left, driving down a dirt road that made her truck shudder and shake with every rut and bump that it hit. The vibrations went straight up from the wheels into the frame into her body into her hand into her clit, and Ginny let out a strangled moan as she came all over again from the force of it. She pulled to a stop next to a large farmhouse, right underneath the radio tower that stood in the field next to it, and sat there shuddering with bliss.

She didn't know how long she spent there, lost in the music and her own private dreams of pleasure, but the sun was coming up when someone came out to check on her. "Hello," she said, smiling at Ginny with vacant bliss in her eyes. It seemed to Ginny as if they were both dancing to the same music, even though neither one of them moved. "Hello, pretty girl. Have you come to join us?"

There was a tiny stir of confusion at that, a faint ripple of dismay in the perfect contentment Ginny felt. "...music festival..." she whispered, trying to resolve the fantasy in her head with the empty fields all around her. She was supposed to be somewhere, somewhere important, listening to her idols play...

"Of course we have music, pretty girl," the woman said, her eyes fluttering for a moment as though the mere mention of a tune was enough to send her into a reverie of bliss. "Come inside, and you will hear all the music you want." She opened the car door and extended her hand.

There was a final moment of resistance, as Ginny struggled to hold onto the dream that drove her all those hundreds of miles, but the pleasure that beckoned broke it easily. She would obey. She wanted to obey. She needed to obey. The music told her to obey, and all she wanted to do was be at one with it and live in its bliss forever. She had finally found the truth she was seeking at the heart of every song, and it was obedience. How could she possibly resist that?

Ginny took the other woman's hand, and stepped out of the car on shaky legs. They headed to the house together, their fingers already beginning to explore each other's bodies. Ginny could already feel the thoughts and memories of the festival fading, distant and unimportant compared to the pleasure she was discovering.

Besides, she'd already missed Woodstock. How much better could Altamont be, anyway?

THE END

JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
3,753 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
1 Comments
TinyBethTinyBethabout 7 years ago

That finish was perfect.

Share this Story

Similar Stories

Quality Control A sinister mind control conspiracy ensnares a new victim.in Mind Control
Good Morning Little School Girl It's Freshman Orientation Day at Mind Control University!in Mind Control
Brain Development Enterprises Ch. 01 Special cologne helps John win over his bratty stepdaughter.in Mind Control
Graded on a Curve Sandi's professor teaches her to resist hypnosis.in Mind Control
Choose to Be Me Betty is offered the makeover of a lifetime.in Mind Control
More Stories