Virtuoso

Content Advisory: sex

 The lights from the New York skyline rivaled the stars in the sky. It was a clear but dark night. The moon shone bright, almost like the sun. Jill sat at the piano, eyes closed, fingers dancing over the ivory. Her naked backside lent more beauty to the melody she played. Never had he witnessed anything so gorgeous. He viewed her through the eyes of Botticelli. He imagined how she’d look in oil on canvas while Beethoven played in the background. 

Zander had been watching her for the last hour as the lyrics he’d written were transformed into a stunning ballad. She was musically talented and very pleasing on the eyes. The curve of her hip dipping in tight at her waist and expanding again at the swell of her breast mimicked the shape of his guitar and he had played her.

His cock stirred at the memory of her moaning and writhing beneath him. The tightness of her pussy sheathing him like a vise caused his heart to beat a tattoo in his chest. He wanted her again.

He crossed the room and stood behind her, inhaling the herbal scent of her hair that hung loosely down her back. Her head leaned back, eyes still closed as she played faster. Quietly, he took a seat beside her. It took all his willpower not to touch her, to pull her into his lap and impale her on his steadily hardening dick.

The song needed to be finished first. Business should take priority over pleasure but pleasure had led to some serious creativity earlier. She stopped and marked notes on the sheet music before straightening the pages and flipping them back to the first page. She leaned over and kissed him softly. “Sing while I play.”

He smiled and put an arm around her waist. “Okay.”

She positioned her fingers on the keys and her bare feet on the pedals. She played the introduction and smiled at him.

He joined her, putting his voice to the notes she played. Nothing ever felt as natural as their musical coupling, so nocturne in nature.

As Jill played the ending, he kissed her shoulder and cupped her breast.

She turned toward him and cocked her head to the side. “I didn’t get to taste you before.”

He smiled.“I wouldn’t want to deprive you, sweetheart.”

She slipped off the bench and pushed his legs apart. Her lips touched his thigh, brushing lightly over the spattering of hair. A warm hand grasped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He touched her hair, pulling teasingly before rubbing his knuckles over her cheek. “So beautiful.”

She moistened her lips and took the head into her mouth. The wet heat instantly made him harder. Her tongue wriggled over that sensitive spot on the underside.

He wrapped her hair around his fist and guided her head to take him deeper. The soft scrape of her teeth along the sides of his cock as he hit the back of her throat drew a primal groan from him.

 She sucked him hungrily, hard and deep using her tongue and hand together in tandem. Every inch of his cock was stimulated and his balls tightened in anticipation.

“You’re going to make me come, baby. Slow down.” He placed his thumb at the corner of her mouth, watching and feeling her lips slide up and down his shaft. Blue eyes stared up at him and he fought the urge to hold her head in place and fuck her mouth.

She made these little humming sounds that vibrated around him. He panted and ran his fingers through her hair. “Damn. I love your mouth.”

She cupped his balls and pulled on them gently while his cock repeatedly dipped into her throat. Her nipples grazed his thighs and he reached down to pinch and pull on one. She moaned and sucked harder, faster, her eyelashes fluttering.

His muscles contracted and his cock twitched. He pulled her head down. Hot spurts of come shot down her throat and she sucked the tip, swallowing every drop.  

He let go of her hair and breathed heavily. “Jesus.”

She raised one eyebrow and licked her lips. “You taste good.”

“Not as good as you.” He pulled her up and closed the lid over the keys and lifted her up to sit on top of the piano. He pulled her legs over his shoulders and ran his fingers up the outside of her thigh. He squeezed her flesh and kissed her belly. The scent of her arousal made him hard again. He inhaled deeply and lowered his face to her mound.

He spread her lips open and used his thumb to pull back the delicate skin covering her swollen clit. She shivered and locked her ankles behind his neck when he licked her most sensitive spot. He moved his tongue from side to side quickly as she tangled her fingers in his hair. Her other hand gripped the edge of the piano.

“God, put your fingers inside me, please,” she whispered in a gravelly tone. “Feels so…mmm.”

He slipped two fingers into her slit and curved them upward. Moving them in a circular motion inside her, he closed his lips on her clit and sucked softly.

She moved her hips against his face and he clamped a hand on her hip to keep her from sliding off the piano. Her head hung forward as she alternately panted and mewled. A slow tremor started in her legs and spread upward. She pulled his hair and her pussy began to pulsate around his fingers.

He licked at her clit with the tip of his tongue while keeping a light suction on it.

Her chest heaved from her rapid breathing and then she screamed, her thighs closing around his head. “Oh my God. Zander.”

He moved his fingers slowly inside her pussy and released her clit. The evidence of her orgasm now dripped down his fingers and he had to taste her again. He pulled his fingers out and licked her sweetness.

“Fuck me.” She stared down at him as he untangled her legs from around his neck.

He was a little surprised at her candor but his dick responded nonetheless.

She stepped down from the piano, onto the bench and stood on the floor beside him.

He leaned forward and sucked her nipple. He loved how the tiny, pink circles puckered and hardened in his mouth. He slipped a hand between her legs. “It would be a shame to let this wet pussy go to waste.”

She smiled. “It would.”

He got up swiftly and grabbed her wrist. Twisting the limb behind her back, he kissed her neck and rubbed his cock over her ass. He urged her forward until her face rested against the wall next to the window. “I’m going to fuck you hard, Jill.”

She sighed. “That’s what I want. I want your passion. Unrestrained. Uncensored. A cappella.”

He rubbed her arms and lifted them above her head. He gripped her wrists with one hand and pinned them to the wall. “Step your feet apart.” He dragged his teeth over her shoulder and kissed her ear.

She complied and he angled his cock at her opening. He thrust up and drove deep inside her. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut.

He pulled back and entered her again. “You’re so tight, wet. I can’t hold back. Feels too good, baby.”

“Don’t. I want all of you.”

He slammed into her harder, deeper. His balls pulled up close to his body. He let her hands go and fisted her hair, pulling her head back. He kissed her, forcing his tongue between her lips. “I need to come.”

“Wait. Not yet,” she said, breathlessly.

He stopped moving. “Why?”

“I want to be on top. I want to make you come.”

“Whatever you want.” He pulled out of her and led her to the chaise lounge. “Here okay?”

She nodded.

He lay down and stroked his cock while he watched her straddle him. She pulled his hand away and gripped his cock. She rubbed the head against her pussy. The head slipped into her snug passage and she braced her palms on his chest. She dropped down and cried out as his cock rammed up in her.

The same white heat consumed him and he reached up to cup her breasts. He squeezed them and pulled on her nipples as she found her rhythm and rode him unabashedly. Any hint of inhibition she exhibited earlier was nowhere to be found now and it drove him crazy.

His hands slid down to hold her hips. He watched her tits bounce from her efforts. His cock swelled inside her.

She looked down at him, her hair hanging forward around her face. Her mouth was open slightly as she moaned. “Come with me, Zander.”

He pressed his thumb to her clit and made small circles over it as she moved faster, taking him deeper. Her pussy clenched on his dick and her eyes rolled back. She dug her fingers into his chest.

He couldn’t wait and lifted his pelvis to increase the rhythm until he couldn’t get any deeper inside her. He held her there and his cock pulsed, filling her with his hot release.

Jill pitched forward, her cheek rested on his chest. “Damn. I don’t think I can walk.”

He rubbed his hands over her back and kissed the top of her head. “Then stay right here. We can make some more music together.”

Look for a special Valentine’s Day short story on February 14, 2013!

~~*~~

~ Melissa Ecker ~

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Blog

Copyright © 2013 Melissa Ecker

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.

Play Me

Content Advisory: Erotic

The ivory keys of the piano were smooth, cold beneath her fingers. Jill couldn’t get the melody quite right. She stretched her arms out and stood to cross the room. The floor to ceiling window of her loft opened to a view of Central Park where people bustled about, jogging, walking their dogs and feeding ducks.

In the distance, she saw his form. Zander Cates was unmistakable in his posture and gait. The black jacket he wore blew open to reveal a black t-shirt, his standard uniform. Shaggy hair hung into his eyes which were always hidden by sunglasses. She didn’t know if he needed them to see or if he just liked to be mysterious. Whatever the case, he intrigued her and plenty of other women, too. He attracted groupies simply because he was famous and they all wanted their fifteen minutes with a star.

Jill was no groupie, but a colleague, a composer. Despite her efforts to keep things professional, every time she saw him little butterflies bounced inside her belly. He wasn’t traditionally handsome but she was drawn to so much more than his face. The moments when they were alone and he shared his poetry which turned into lyrics and music gave her a glimpse into the real him and his psyche was beautiful. She tried to push out the prurient thoughts that littered her mind at times. She wondered if he noticed how she blushed sometimes around him or how she stared too long.    

The buzzer rang. She pressed the enter button to let him in. A minute later there was a knock on the door. She opened it and couldn’t contain the grin that pulled at the edges of her mouth. She smoothed her long shirt over her hips, hoping that she looked okay. She never wore much makeup and her hair hung loose around her face.  

He handed her a paper bag which she knew already contained a bottle of his favorite wine. Strawberry Hill. She’d never even heard of it before he came along but she’d developed a taste for it herself.  

“What’s up, J?”

“Not much. Come in.” She stepped aside.

“Looks like you’ve been working,” he said, picking up the sheets of music on the piano and studying the notes she’d written.

“I’m struggling with the melody on this.” She took two glasses from the cabinet in the kitchen and poured some of the pink, fizzy liquid into each. Handing one to him, she said, “I’m lost, I guess.”

They drank the whole bottle of wine while he looked over the pages, even the ones she’d crumpled up and thrown on the floor. “I think I know what the problem is here.” He straightened all the pages and stacked them on the floor.

Covered in soft, red velvet, the chaise lounge was her favorite piece of furniture in the house and they often sat on it to discuss their writing. She tucked her feet underneath her and rolled her neck. “What?”

“You’re not feeling it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He stood in front of her and set his glass on the small end table. “Stand up.”

She scooted off the couch and stood before him, her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

Dark glasses concealed his eyes and bridged his nose; full lips slightly parted. He almost looked like a predator ready to strike.

He touched her hair, tucking the strands behind her ears, his fingers lingering on her shoulders.

“Take off your glasses.”

He pulled them off and she saw his eyes for the first time. The pupils were almost indistinguishable against irises dark as ink. Such contrast against his pale skin. He began to hum the chords he’d played for her the night before when he penned the lyrics, simple yet beautiful.

The tension that lingered between them snapped. The butterflies in her stomach gave way to a deeper burn, a delicious ache.  

“Feel it?” he asked.

She nodded. The objects in the room faded away until she only saw his eyes, only heard his voice.

He took her hand and laid it flat in his own, using his other hand he touched her fingers as if playing keys on the piano. He mimicked the sound they would make in a light whisper. Then he placed her hand against his chest. “Touch is the strongest of senses.” His heart beat wildly against her palm. “The heart is like the percussion, the rush of blood is the rhythm, breath is the voice.”

   “Oh my God.” It made sense, she felt the music.

“Understand now?”

“Yes.” Her mind ran wild with the possibilities. What would happen if the feelings intensified?

He lowered his face to hers and stayed an inch away. “Shall we make some music now?”

She answered by kissing him. Initially, she only pressed her lips to his but her own heartbeat forced the crescendo in her mind. She needed more.

His arm circled her waist and his hand rested at the small of her back, gently pulling her closer.

She liked his hands, the agility and length of his fingers. There was a certain eroticism in watching a man strum a guitar with such precision. She imagined him strumming her body like that, making her sing on a breathless tone.

His tongue teased her lips before pushing between them, delving, invading.

She inhaled, catching the scent of something sweet, minty or maybe it was the taste of his mouth. Her senses went haywire and mingled together, melting her insides.

The evidence of his arousal pressed firmly against her stomach as his hips moved slightly in time with his tongue.

Her hand trailed down his chest to his belt. The metal studs layered in black leather were hard and smooth under her fingertips. She pulled at the buckle, loosening it enough to pull it off and drop it on the hardwood floor. There was something else hard and smooth she wanted to touch.

He cupped her breast, stroking her nipple through her shirt. The tip responded, hardening and tingling. She shivered and gasped against his mouth. Using both hands, she quickly unbuttoned his pants. Reaching inside, she found what she was looking for. His rigid cock emanated a delightful heat and she wrapped her fingers around it.

He stripped off his jacket and t-shirt before helping her with hers. His pants fell to his ankles and he toed off his shoes and kicked his jeans off. He wasted no time in peeling off her leggings and panties. “Jesus, you’re more beautiful than I imagined. Like poetry in motion.”

Standing naked in her music room, she moved closer. “Play me. Like you play your guitar, Zander.”

He licked his lips. “Lie down.”

She settled back on the chase lounge. He knelt between her legs and leaned over to kiss her collarbone. Warm lips made their way lower to tease her erect nipples. He pinched one between his thumb and finger, rolling it back and forth. His mouth closed on the other, sucking softly.

She moaned and tangled her fingers into his coarse hair. Her hips lifted involuntarily spurred only by primal need.

He kissed lower until his face was inches away from her mound. Those long fingers spread her folds open and he licked her from slit to clit. Looking into her eyes, he teased her with long strokes of his tongue.

Her breath hitched and her chest heaved. Bolts of heat coursed through her body. She squealed when he sucked her clit into his mouth. Her thighs tightened against his head and she pulled his hair.

He used his strength to hold her legs open and pushed a finger inside her. He sucked harder and moved his finger faster, stroking that magical spot.

Her abdomen tightened and she arched her back. “I’m coming.”

He continued to thrust and lick, his hair tickling her thighs.

The peak came sharp and unapologetically, tossing her into the abyss of pleasure. Every nerve in her body short circuited and she gave in to it. She moaned his name. Her heart no longer beat in her chest but squarely between her legs.

He crawled up her body and smiled. “Your moan is like music, Jill.”

She couldn’t speak and just nodded, breathing fast and uneven.

His width forced her thighs open further and his cock sat hot and heavy against her pussy.

She lifted her legs and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her.

With one thrust, he buried himself deep. He groaned against her ear and ran his fingers through her auburn hair. Clutching her head, he stared into her eyes. “You feel so good, so slick and hot.”

“God, yes. Don’t stop.” A trancelike state descended.

His eyes burned into her, penetrating her soul as his cock pumped into her pussy, deep, hard and slow.

She lifted her head to kiss him, tasting the sweet remnants of herself on his lips and tongue.

He kissed her back, more aggressively. “Come again. Come with me.” He lifted her legs over his shoulders and gripped her hips.

She bit down on her lip and held onto his biceps for support.

He moved his hips faster, his dick sliding against that sensitive spot over and over.

Her pussy clenched as another wave struck her.

His arms stiffened. “Oh, yeah. That’s it. I’m coming, baby.” He plunged into her deep and gritted his teeth.

She screamed and dug her nails into his arms as her legs trembled and her pussy clamped down on his cock.

His hot release filled her and he collapsed on top her. He kissed her neck. “Damn.”

She laughed. “I think I can write that song now. Once I can feel my legs again, that is.”

Look for Melissa’s next short story on February 9, 2013!

~~*~~

~ Melissa Ecker ~

Website * Twitter * Facebook * Blog

Copyright © 2013 Melissa Ecker

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.

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.