Catching Star

I couldn’t have missed the show. Star Leight was one of my favorite female vocalists of all time. Her leggy, dead-eyed stance gave me more than a few chills down my spine every time I watched one of her music videos.

Deedee, my best friend, resident blond super tramp and expert ball-crusher bounced in place, her boobs sproinging up and down after she’d stilled.

“So do you think we can get close?” She fluttered her eyes and I knew what was coming. “I just want to get close enough to see Jason.”

Jason was the bass player for Starlight, a funny little play on Star’s name. I shrugged and slid my fingers under my bra strap to make sure my shoulder tattoo showed. It was a pretty bluebird—custom work, done from a flash I’d picked out off the wall. Only mine had a skull head. The breast of the bird was almost the same color as my dark auburn curls, which I had pulled up off my neck in a large clip to show off my body art. Complicated, I wanted the ink to scream. Maybe I was complicated or maybe I was just like everybody else in the stadium.

We’d bought ground-floor tickets solely for the advantage of fighting and clawing our way to the stage because if we were up in the balcony seats, that wasn’t an option. Plus, heights scared the shit out of me.

People queued for what looked like a quarter of a mile, only to have to push and shove their way through the corridors of the building and secure their place for the remainder of the evening. The stadium was buzzing with anticipation and the noise nearly drowned out the opening act. A bear on a unicycle juggling bowling pins might have gotten a better reaction because they were crap. Deedee said about the same in my ear and we giggled together as we slipped through the crowd, and around sweating, heaving men and women, who in all their shortness obviously were about to miss the show because the tour didn’t supply ladders. Not me. I was five-foot-nine-inches and with the suede platform boots I was rocking, about six feet even. Not that I’d be mistaken for a man. Any man who could honestly look at me with my size C-cup tits, workout-toned little ass and curvaceous hips, and still try and tell me I was a man could get a size nine in the crotch.

Our sly approach toward the stage was thwarted as the crowd pressed in, packed tight. Our hot, damp flesh rubbed against each other  about twelve feet away from the stage. So close, yet so far away.

The lights dimmed as the noise orchestra of what the fuck gathered their stage dressing in shame after a lukewarm reception. Drums kicked in—steady, methodical. It was a rally for the audience and Deedee and I joined the chorus of voices screaming Star’s name.

The drums stopped, casting us all into stunned silence. A single spotlight switched on and I realized Star was standing right there, twelve feet away, clasping a wireless microphone to her chest like a wounded bird.

Deedee screamed and bounced, jumping up and down to see better, when a six-foot-or better idiot male positioned himself dead center. Star serenaded us as my wrath grew for the moron who stood in our way. He turned to look at me, and it occurred to me that among the cheering, Deedee had identified him as a ‘douchebag asshole’ and was more than not about to plant a pointy-toed knee-high boot up his gargantuan ass.

“Move, dipshit!” Deedee glared at him and gave him the finger, her cigarette neatly tucked between her first and offensive digit. Our target of fury growled something in return, but blessedly moved and I was entreated to Star’s goddess-like presence, face to face, for the very first time.

She was smaller than I imagined, possibly five-and-a-half feet or so, but with the stage elevated, I was looking up and she was looking into infinity, or so it seemed. She mouthed the words to songs that I’d played over and over in my own private space and I let myself be sucked into her spell.

Do you want to take me home, she trilled, reaching eargasmic heights and limit, and I couldn’t help but smile. She was sunshine on water, a lollipop in the mouth, but in the ears, syrupy-sweet and I followed her every move with my eyes as she prowled the stage. Stage lighting danced off the sequins in her corset. Her hair was short, shining, and covered one eye. It was black then revealed a blue sheen as the spotlights swept over her.

What was it like to be her? To be with her? I closed my eyes and swayed to the music, barely feeling Deedee bump against my shoulder from time to time as she joined the personal dance. Hands pushed into my back and by the time I opened my eyes, I was pinned against the stage barrier. I looked up and there was Star, beckoning me with one pearly, manicured fingernail.

“Come on up, luv,” she said, and reached for me. Strong arms lifted me up into hers and in a flash, I stood next to her on weak knees, heart thundering, feeling hers match most likely from the vigorous dance moves.

“We’re going to sing the next song for…” She leaned into me. “What is your name, luv?”

“Sandra,” I managed to squeak, “Cassandra.”

She gave a wry smile. “Cassandra, then. Right.” Her azure eyes swept the audience. Vinyl banners waved with her likeness and hand-drawn hearts next to her name. Someone called out her name. Another called out mine. Deedee, of course.

“This next song is for Cassandra here.” She nearly whispered into her microphone. “It didn’t have a name before tonight. With Cassandra’s blessing, I’m going to name it after her.”

I drifted on the scent of jasmine and musk, laced with human sweat. Up that close, I could see perspiration dotting her lashes and streaming down her sculpted cheeks. Her body pressed to mine was damp, her grip around my waist firm and undeniable. Her eyeliner was smudged, just so and our breaths mingled as she sang the song that now bore my name.

I blinked, breaking the spell as she released me and I almost fell to my knees; her grasp had been that strong. I wavered, unsure if she was through with me but as she concluded her song, she stalked back over to me and pinched my chin between her fingers to brush her lips against mine. My insides shivered, and my pussy clenched on nothing, desperate for cock, fingers, or tongue. Was she leading me on?

“Wait for me,” she purred in my ear, away from the mic, so the crowd couldn’t hear. A sneaky wink and she whirled around again to dive into the next number. My pulse thudded in my ears and I stood there, feeling naked, hot and wanting.

When the show was over, the lights went out like a giant switch had been thrown, dowsing the audience in darkness. Still, they cheered and chanted her name but I couldn’t pay them much attention because her fingers were in my hair, tugging at the roots, destroying the hour of careful work I’d put in it to be…here.

Her mouth covered mine as she stole my breath. A slight tinkle of silver bracelets as her fingers traced the curve of my neck.

“I hope you don’t mind.” She grinned with perfect, white teeth before biting my bottom lip. “I’d like you to stay—come with me.” She gestured with a nod of her head. “Backstage. My room. Anywhere.”

“W-Why?” I stammered, glancing down at our fingers now laced together. She grazed my nipple through the thin fabric of my tunic, black, somewhat sheer—through the flimsy bra I wore, awakening my senses in ways males never quite had.

She laughed, and even that was musical. “Why? Why you? Must you ask?” She kissed me hard, backing me into the nearest wall. “You mustn’t ask why. Only how. When. Now.”

She took my wrist and laid my hand over her breast, kissing me again and my fingers squeezed the firm flesh. I moaned against her cheek. “God.”

Star pushed away from me without warning, tugging me behind her as if on a leash with a vice-like grip on my arm. I stumbled behind her as we navigated the labyrinth of the backstage. But we weren’t to stop there. We broke through the partying crowd to free air at the exit, a simple pair of beige doors and beyond that, the cool night air. I caught a cursory glance of Deedee chatting up the bassist as he leaned against the tour bus, which was where Star apparently intended for us to end up at.

“Tell me it’s all right.” Star grinned without answer, opened the door to the massive machine and motioned for me to step up and inside.

I turned to her as she came up behind me, her arms hot against my skin. “It’s all right.”

“Quite sure?” Star reached into the half-sized refrigerator and pulled out an opened bottle of sparkling wine. After pouring us both an overflowing, fizzy glass, she rolled the cold bottle over my shirt, chilling my breasts as she engulfed me in a heated kiss.

Her lips and tongue tasted of champagne and honey, though I didn’t know why, only that I liked it. Her flesh against mine felt right—real as we undressed one another there on her bus.

Her mouth was everywhere—on my nipples, my tits, my belly, and when she pushed me into the back room and onto what I could only assume was her bed, my pulsing clit.

I rose up under her, tilting my hips enough for her to scrape her teeth against the tender flesh and she locked her dark blue gaze with mine. The chain around her neck tickled the insides of my thighs and I threw my head back on the duvet, helpless to avoid responding loudly to her advances. I arched my back and wrapped my legs around her, clutching the bedcover. She thrust her fingers into my cunt and moved them in and out, her hot tongue sucking on my clit. She was French-kissing my pussy and when I looked down at her again and she lifted from her slurping to grin at me I laughed good-naturedly at her slick cheeks.

“Do your fans often?” My words rushed out and I reached for her shoulders, her face and hair as if to convince myself this was really real, that my idol was currently knuckle-deep in me, and was slithering up my body with little bites and licks.

She smiled and kissed me, her words sharp against my lips. “Do you want to know?”

I shook my head and she glanced up. “Scoot up.”

I did as requested and she pumped my pussy with her fingers until a deep groan escaped despite my attempts to stay quiet. “Fuck. Oh God.”

“Fuck,” she echoed and kissed along my jaw as my orgasm rose between us, a state of near-unconsciousness as my vision grayed from the rush of spiked endorphins. I was reasoning the moment. I needed to stop. I was fucking a stranger. A girl and…

She pulled her fingers out and licked them clean of my come before guiding my hand between her thighs.

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered in her ear and she looked at me.

“Yes you do. Feel.”

She was so wet. Hot. Fuck. I bit my own lip and slid my fingers into her, massaging her clit with my thumb. She dipped her breasts to touch mine and her eyes fluttered shut.

“That’s it, luv. More.”

She thrust her hips as if she was a man, or I was a man, and she was riding a cock, or perhaps she’d never ridden one, I didn’t know. Her insides were slippery, felt like velvet and clasped around my fingers. A pre-orgasm thrill raced through my body and I thrust up into her, pumping her with my fingers much like she’d done with me. Her mouth dropped open and soft moans deepened into low groans as her come trickled over my hand. We crashed together into a hard kiss, teeth nipping tongues as she positioned herself asymmetrical between my thighs, one of her legs on the outside of mine while the other knee pressed against my aching cunt.

She dragged her tongue from my collar bone to my neck and pushed into me with all her weight in a rhythm like she was a man and was fucking me. The pressure against my clit was incredible and I clawed at the backs of her arms, desperate to cling to anything as she shoved me over the edge into another orgasm, our cries mingling in primal harmony as we came together. I no longer questioned what I felt because it was amazing—l light bursting through clouds of sexual repression.

She laid her head on my chest, her ribs heaving, breath sawing in and out of us as we stopped. Slowly, she slid to my side and we held one another.

“Did you enjoy the show?” She smirked and rubbed her nose against mine.

I nodded. “One hell of an after show performance.”

Star giggled and rolled onto her back, her gaze trained on the ceiling. “Thank you for the inspiration.”

“Is that why you chose me?”

She sighed. “You reminded me of me, for some odd reason.”

We rose from the bed to resume work on the wine, settling in the booth together, naked and not caring. I’d caught a star, although she wasn’t quite the twinkling sort I’d wished on as a child. She was more.

~~*~~

~ Annice Sands ~

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Copyright © 2012 Annice Sands

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

The Hired Hand – Installment 3

Following was my contribution to the Lambda award-winning anthology, Lesbian Cowboys. To read previous installments, click on this link.

The Hired Hand – 3

Ari had opened up a whole new world of sensual delights in that first night. And I had been ravenous to discover more ever since. Not that I was ready to declare that girl-sex was my new preference.

I liked dick. Liked a powerful man stroking deep. Strong, muscled arms encircling me. But lovers, the stick-around kind, hadn’t been in the cards for me.

I sighed as Ari’s hands unlooped my belt, loosened my jeans and slid beneath the waistband to cup my generous ass.

We stood face-to-face in the stall, our gazes clashing. “Think I don’t know what you like about guy-sex?” Ari stepped back and stripped, making quick work of her clothing until her jeans slid down her hips. She wore no panties, just a black harness that wrapped around her waist, more straps disappearing between her legs. She reached down to the blanket where she’d tossed the dildo and inserted it into the fitting at the front of the harness. The dildo, a long, sculpted gel with exaggerated veins and a pair of firm balls, bobbed between her legs.

“Jesus,” I moaned, my pussy already anticipating the stretch and beginning to throb.

“Wait here,” Ari said, her voice tightening.

“As if I have a choice?” I muttered.

Moments later, Ari reappeared, carrying a wooden sawhorse which she set in the hay and then draped with the blanket. She unlooped the end of the rope which she’d tied off on a post and began to wrap it in a coil, bringing me closer.

I kept up the pretense of reluctance, dragging my feet, but the cock was already working on me. My cunt was flushed with heat and growing moist. My breasts were so hard and tight I drew back my shoulders, inviting Ari’s gaze, begging silently for her to lean down and bite the straining tips.

But Ari ignored the jut of my chest, gripped my shoulders, and shoved me face-first over the sawhorse.

“This will work better if you take off my clothes, too,” I said hopefully.

A soft snort behind me told me Ari wasn’t taking suggestions, but my pants were pushed past my buttocks, and the dildo nudged between them.

“Jesus,” I whispered again, letting out a deep breath when the moistened tip glided down and slid along my slick folds. I tried to make more space for it, but my clothing kept my thighs bound tightly together. Hands clutched my hips, and the dildo glided slowly forward and back, then withdrew.

One foot was lifted and my boot was removed.

“Guess I was right. It’s easier without clothes,” I mumbled.

The other came off and my jeans were jerked down my thighs. At last, I was naked. I braced apart my legs, opening my sex, begging again for attention.

A rustling sounded behind me, and then moist kisses landed on my bottom. A tongue glided down the crevice between my ass cheeks, circling slowly over my asshole, just long enough to make me worried, but then she stroked downward. Teeth gripped my outer labia, nibbling gently, then lips sucked. Her wicked tongue stroked into my entrance, while a humming groan vibrated against me. Fingers circled over and over on my clit while lips tugged and tongue stroked. I rose on my toes to tilt my ass higher.

Blood rushed to my head and sex. My clit swelled painfully. Then hands smoothed the backs of my thighs as Ari rose behind me and reached over to grip my shoulders, raising my torso while the smooth gel cock prodded my opening.

“God, please…make it deep.”

A slap jerked me, heat rising in short parallel ribs on my buttocks. The cock found my opening, dipped inside and held still. “Think I don’t know how to fuck?” Ari whispered. “I’ve had miles of dick inside me. I’ve fucked miles of cunt.”

The words, so coarse, spoken in her tight choked voice, elicited a thrill that released a wash of liquid, engulfing the head of the cock poised at my entrance. “I wish you could feel what you do to me…”

“Think I can’t? Think I’m not going to get off, too? You’re wet and sucking at my cock. When I slam into you, I’m gonna feel it right against my clit.”

“Jesus, just do it. God, Ari,” I rose on toes again, trying to back onto the cock, but she followed the movement, and the crown slipped from my channel.

“Hold still. Don’t help. Just feel.” A hand gripped the back of my hair, lifting my head, arching my back, and then her hips slammed forward, and the thick cock rammed deep, pressing deep into my channel, gliding straight until the firm balls slapped my clitoris.

I bucked hard, not caring that she pulled my hair,

Ari wound her hand, tugging my head higher. Only that one hand held me suspended. My arms were still cinched at my sides and my abdomen was stretched, shuddering as she rocked forward and back, plowing deep, rutting like a man into my sex until my cunt felt hot, the soft tissues abraded by the heavy, veined ridges.

“I need more,” I sobbed.

“What’s that?” she said, halting her movements when her belly was pressed against my ass and her cock so deep I felt it at the mouth of my womb. “A cock isn’t enough for you?”

“I need more.”

“Gotta be a little more specific, chica. Want my tongue, my fingers? Will that be enough?”

“Yes. Your fingers on my clit. Your cock ramming deep.”

Ari came out of me, and her hand let go of my hair. My body sagged over the sawhorse. She drew me up gently, shoved the structure to the side, then helped me to lie down on the blanket she’d spread on the fragrant straw.

“I’m gonna fuck you like a man. Face-to-face. But you know why this is gonna be better than anything you’ve ever had?”

As her fingers entered me I gasped and lifted my knees, letting then splay wide. I shook my head. “Why’s it gonna be better?”

“Because I’m a girl. I know what your clit needs, know just how to touch it to make you spark like a wildfire.”

She bent, lifted the hood cloaking my engorged clit, and suckled it, nursing it with her lips. When I began to moan, she drew back, a wicked light in her eyes again. “Not yet, baby.” She came over me, her breasts pressing into mine, her tight little points rubbing my areolas.

My thighs widened and lifted to bracket her narrow hips. The dildo nudged my entrance and slid inside.

With my belly curved toward hers, the base of the cock slammed against my bared clit. It was enough. I was coming apart. But she lifted her belly and slid a hand between us. Her wet fingers circled on the rigid knot of nerves, and she resumed stroking inside me as she braced herself on one arm.

I met her gaze, read the warmth and approval in her expression. Saw the excitement rising in her darkening cheeks. Her eyes slid closed, her head fell back, and she jolted her hips against mine, losing rhythm as her own orgasm began to spiral.

I curled beneath her, latched onto a nipple and bit the tip.

With her finger stroking my clit, her cock driving deep inside, and my mouth filled with soft heat, I exploded.

Our cries echoed against the wooden walls. Horses snorted; hooves shuffled uneasily. Then silence fell around us as we both eased to the ground.

She nuzzled my cheek, and her lips slid along my jaw, then lifted. We kissed, lips softly smoothing like butter in shallow circles. The kiss was divine. Rapturous.

When my legs unwound from her waist, and she arched her back to come out of me, I gave a shaky laugh, hoping she hadn’t heard the jagged edge of it. “Guess I’ll have to give you a raise.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t forget who’s still tied up.”

“The rope’s beginning to itch.”

“Poor baby,” she said, her lips gliding along the rope, kissing the skin rubbed a fiery red. “Was I a little rough?”

“Ari…”

Her head came up, her gaze locking with mine.

“That’s the best I’ve ever had. But there’s a problem.”

Her expression grew shuttered. “Say it. It’s not like you’ve spared my feelings up to this point. I’ve been the one trying to prove up my claim.”

“I need the rope gone, first,” I said quietly.

She dragged me up and loosened the loop, slipping it over my head.

“The cock, too,” I said, pointing my chin toward the gel cock still bobbing between her legs.

Her chest fell, and she kept her gaze down as she removed it.

I came to my knees and placed my hand in the center of her chest and shoved.

She fell backward with a gasp, half on the blanket, half on the prickly straw.

I straddled her waist and bent over her, my mouth an inch from hers. “I’ve let you do me, but I’ve never given you a damn thing.”

“Not true,” she said, her voice thickening.

“Shut up. I thought I wasn’t committing to girl-sex if I never gave you pleasure. That’s gonna change right now.”

Her brown eyes blinked. Her lips curved upward at both corners. “Think you know how, little virgin?”

“I think you’re gonna demand a whole lot more from me from now on.”

“Mmmm…” she moaned, her eyelids sliding downward. “I can think of a place or two I want those soft lips of yours to kiss. Sure you’re up for it, Lace?”

“No, baby. I’m going down.”

Then with my face diving between her legs, burrowing into her pussy, I couldn’t pretend any longer that I’d hungered for the stroke of a tongue, the thrust of skilled fingers and a hard cock from a man.

Ari’s essence, richly and pungently feminine, spilled onto my greedy tongue, and I lapped it up like the starving woman I was.

Her fingers dug into my hair, holding me there as her hips rocked gently up and down. I applied all the lessons she’d taught me about how I liked to be touched to bring her pleasure.

I eased two fingers into her moist cunt and swirled my tongue over her clit. I latched my lips around the knot when it grew engorged and sucked hard, slipping another finger inside her and pumping relentlessly as her movements grew more desperate and her breaths jagged.

At last, I felt the tremors ripple inside her. She shoved her pussy into my face, her abdomen curling toward me, her fingers raking my scalp. Her cries were thin, warbling almost, and then she collapsed against the blanket, her legs splayed like a woman who’d been thoroughly loved.

I crawled upward, snuggling next to her spent body and cupped her breast, massaging to soothe her now.

Her hand covered mine and squeezed. “I take it…” she gasped, “that you don’t have any more reservations about whether I can do the job.”

“You have any about me? Besides, one doesn’t have a thing to do with the other,” I said, pressing my lips to the nipple nearest my mouth.

“Ah hell. Don’t make me think.”

“You’re fine cowgirl. You’ve got the job.”

Her gaze met mine. “And this? Gonna let this hired hand have the pleasure of your company every night?”

I scraped my callused palm across her belly, and slid my fingers into her folds. “It’s not so different. Your hand. Mine.” I teased her sex with shallow grazes then tucked them inside.

“Glad you figured that out,” she said, growing breathless again.

“Not a man’s hand,” I admitted gruffly. “Better.”

Copyright © 2009 Delilah Devlin
Delilah Devlin
Author of Darkness Captured and Pleasing Sir
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All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.