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God is in the Radio	By : SolusNemo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Good Charlotte Views: 941 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Good Charlotte. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-God is in the Radio
- 1
Title: God is in the Radio
Author: “Solus Nemo”
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Joel never did anything wrong, he was simply a victim.
Author’s Note: So maybe it’s not the best smut out there and, yeah, there’s some substance to it, but it could be worse. The title and blip come from Queen of the Stone Age’s “God is in the Radio”.
Disclaimer: This story never happened in real life. I do not own Good Charlotte and I have never met them. Everything goes to their respective owners, which would not be me. I only own the characters and plot lines I have created, that would be about it.

“They say the devil is paranoid, always tryin’ to cover, but God is leakin’ through the stereo – between the station to station. You believe it, I know you do, you won’t admit it or say so. I know that God is in the radio, just repeating the slogan. You come back another day and do no wrong.”

Everything happens for a reason, that’s what they like to tell you. If they’ve never told you that, perhaps they’ve just went about their lives putting the blame on fate because Lord knows no human has ever caused anything by their own hand.

Cheated on your Algebra final? Fate did that, not you. Or maybe your parents because they never gave you enough attention when you were a baby, never breast fed you and that’s why you had to lean back and look at Kathrine Johnson’s paper to get your correct answers. You have never done anything wrong by the sheer power of yourself, it was always someone or something else that made everything happen.

A killer walks into a bank and shoots every last man, woman, and child in the place. He isn’t to blame for it, no, not at all. Pin the tail on society! The media for putting all those violent images in his brain when he was so young – the murderer couldn’t have possibly had the brain capacity to know that the flickering pictures on the television set weren’t right, had no sense of right and wrong back then to begin with!

A man beats his wife to death, but no one should punish him for it. Send all the consequences to the man’s father for showing him the wrong way to treat a woman! How on earth could the little boy ever know that hitting anyone is bad? It’s fate that caused him to never get any kind of counseling as a grown-up, it was written in stone that he’d turn out just like his father. The man was only an innocent victim, the real criminal here is Franklin Smith Sr. and not Jr. for sending his lovely wife to the grave as a bloody pile of ground beef.

We live in a society were we place the blame on someone else. We don’t look at ourselves in the mirror and say “I made this all happen” because in our mind we didn’t. God made it happen! Aliens! The month old lime Jell-O in the back of the refrigerator! Anything and anyone but ourselves.

Human beings run around like chickens with their heads cut off, bumping into things and trying to point the finger at anyone but themselves. They’d rather punish a higher power for something It didn’t do than to face the firing squad themselves. We never did anything, it was all our evil twin that no one else can see.

This age old cop-out surged through Joel Madden’s mind as he kissed a woman who most certainly was not his wife.

It was Laura’s fault that this had happened. If she had only pleased him like Joel had wanted, he wouldn’t have ever started to have this affair. She was blind to everything, a lemon in every sense of the word. A beautiful car with nothing under the hood save a couple of bolts and some grease.

Laura Elizabeth Madden was to blame for all of this.

Joel was only a miserable spouse in this scenario. Had his wife given him what he wanted, made him happy, he wouldn’t have ever walked up to the woman whose neck he was sucking belonged to. He wouldn’t have slipped off his wedding band and started a conversation with this other woman, this Amazonian Goddess before him.

Rosario pleased him in every way imaginable, blew his mind, rocked his world. She knew who Joel was, but that didn’t seem to bother her. This relationship was only sexual, an opportunity to scratch the itches they had. No strings attached, no feelings, just fuck and leave.

Had his wife been more exotic and less of a prude in the bedroom, had she been willing to try new things, this affair wouldn’t need to be. If Laura was a little less stupid that would have helped as well. She was the equivalent of Jessica Simpson with a cement brick taken repeatedly to the back of the head, rabbit teeth and all. All she had ever been was a nice girl to be seen with, good publicity.

The affair had been going on under Laura’s nose for over a year, getting more heated each meeting, and she was still absolutely clueless. Was it wrong for Joel to feel no compassion for a woman whose brain was soaked in a little too much peroxide? He didn’t think so.

Suddenly he became aware of the storm raging outside the apartment building, the booming thunder following close after the lightning caused the bedroom to light up in blue-violet hues. Joel grinned when he saw himself in the full-length mirror across the room, the two bodies illuminated in erotic splendor.

His chest was against Rosario’s back, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly, her head thrown back and resting on his left shoulder. Joel’s hands were massaging her large breasts, stopping only to pinch and tug the piercings through her pert nipples. He bit her shoulder, tried to bring forth blood, he knew she liked that.

Rosario moaned in pleasure, bringing her right hand up and grabbing a tuft of her lover’s hair. Pulling away from Joel, she turned around and, still gripping him by his thick black hair, threw him down onto the bed. She quickly got on top of him, holding his hands above his head and grinned.

She was rough and Joel loved that. He had been burnt, whipped, cut, chained, every wonderful domination scene acted out and then some. That was only to be expected, he had met her in a S&M club after all.

Straddling him, her wet folds intentionally so close yet so far away to tease him, Rosario leaned down and bit Joel’s ear. “Only touch me when I give you permission to. That’s a good boy,” she cooed.

Joel groaned, a low guttural noise coming from deep within him. Though they had only had sex what seemed like ten eons ago, he wanted more, needed more. He didn’t want to have to wait around. Trying to force her down onto his throbbing cock, he put his hands on her hips, pushed down.

Slapping him hard, Rosario’s eyes narrowed and she grabbed at his hair again, yanked his head up. White heat flew across his vision.

“Bad, Joel, bad,” she said sternly. “Now you’re just going to have to wait longer, see what you’ve done?” She let go of him, moved forward and sat on his chest, rubbed her ass against his hard length to make him moan – he did. She loved to watch him squirm.

“Fuck, Rose,” Joel grumbled.

Rosario twisted his left nipple, flaming pain spread out from the sensitive body part. “Don’t close your eyes.”

He did as he was told this time and looked up at the beautiful naked woman sitting on his lap. God, he wanted to break her. Make the walls shake and just fucking break her. Joel groaned again as he watched Rosario’s left hand move over her body, right hand free to punish him if need be.

She smiled. “You like that?”

Hand kneading breast, tracing nipple, moving down across the tattoo of a half-naked Bettie Paige in stockings, down, down, always down. So slow, too slow.

Joel could only create a deep growl as he watched his mistress’s finger slide into her velvety depths. Her eyes didn’t leave his face, only glazed over in sheer pleasure and lips parting to moan. One more finger, then one more. The only thing Joel couldn’t stand about her was that she always took her god damned time.

His hand shot forward and took Rosario’s free wrist, grabbed her hip with his other hand and flipped her over so that he was on top. Before she could protest, his lips crashed down onto hers – kissing her in a way that would remind her who the real dominant one was. He moved his hands down to her thighs, spreading her legs farther to either side.

With her fingers gone from her pussy, Rosario’s hands were on Joel’s shoulders. He didn’t even register that fact when dove inside of her, pulling out of her just far enough to have a shock wave effect when he gained a strong rhythm of thrusting.

“Harder, Joel. Fuck me harder.”

He complied, grabbing the headboard for leverage.

“Make the bed shatter. Harder!”

Her screaming added fuel to his fire, made him pump until the bedsprings creaked in protest. The fingernails digging into his back, scraping down his sides, latching themselves into his skin until it stung, made him go faster. He might have been screaming her name, might have been yelling in tongues, might not have been saying anything at all.

The cries formed into one, hung above them as they worked toward orgasm. Rosario was rocking her hips, head thrown back, body glistening with sweat, such a beautiful sight.

“Oh, God…fuck!”

Joel dove into her with a few more hard, rough thrusts. “That’s it, scream for me.” He knew she was close, he wasn’t any farther away than she.

If possible Rosario’s nails went deeper into the skin of his hips, the headboard banged against the wall loudly one more time before Joel grunted loudly and shot Rosario full of his seed. She came soon after calling his name.

Withdrawing from his mistress’s body, Joel collapsed beside her and stared straight up, watched the light caused from the storm dance across the high white vaults of the ceiling.

▪▪▪

Crawling out of his sweaty orgasmic bliss, Joel got to his feet. Around the dark room were the companion’s clothing, hiding in corners or hanging from the edges of furniture pieces. His boxes were the closest article of clothing to the bed, everything else branching away and toward the bedroom door and through the house if he remembered correctly.

Dressing himself, the man looked back at the other woman. She was sitting up in bed, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag from the Marlboro stick.

Laura was “too good” to smoke or even drink, one horribly vanilla person.

“Can you let yourself out?” Rosario asked, smiling softly as she watched Joel’s back muscles flex as he pulled up his pants, worked the belt.

“I’ll just follow the bread crumbs,” he replied. “Next week?”

Rosario nodded, took another puff from her cigarette. “I can’t hardly wait. How do you feel about wax?”

Joel simply grinned.

“Wear your sweater vest, my naughty little school boy.”

Yes, Joel Madden was the victim here. All the blame should be placed on Laura’s shoulders, for she’s the one that made this happen. Joel did nothing wrong here. Absolutely nothing wrong.
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God is in the Radio