Four writers for the price of one blog
♦ Something light and sweet…I ♥ musicians. – X
She didn’t only penetrate me with her gaze… I was transfixed.
Her voice had stopped me mid-sentence while I drowned my ennui at a bar in a shit town whose name don’t remember. I couldn’t see her through the crowd but I’d listened, nursing my beer warm. She’d had me even before I’d known what she looked like. Cruelly enough, she was lovelier that I would’ve dared imagine and she’d actually agreed to sing for us.
She walked around the studio and I mirrored her every move without thinking. Her face was twisted with passion, as if experiencing the lyrics we’d written together for the first time. Her sweet tremolo swelled to a throaty scream and my fingers trembled on the fretboard. There was a lump in my throat and my temples throbbed. Her skin shone with sweat that looked like mine, the kind that wasn’t because of the jungle heat or the whiskey she’d shot before we started recording.
The band moved around us building the walls the sound we hid behind, barely.
She flipped her long wavy mane off the back of her neck. The movement was heart-wrenchingly graceful. As she moved her hips to the beat, her flat belly flexed. Her belly button winked crimson and my throat burned. My mouth was open.
She began to play around with the music, weave her voice above and below the notes I played. I tried to dazzle her with my superior skill but she could read my mind, knew every note before I played it. Her voice swelled, urging me on, and her full lips curled into a smirk that made me wish the pants I’d worn had been bigger. She looked right at me, but she moved like she was alone.
The music stopped and there was nowhere to hide anymore. I took too long to put away my gear but she was still there, dancing on the edge of my vision. She drank and put her naked feet up on a table littered with gear, candles, and ashtrays. Her skin had a warm luminescence that didn’t come from the candlelight. The rest of the band felt the heaviness in the air and filtered out slowly.
The space echoed with our breath.
She stretched and I saw the swell of her breasts under her shirt. Her belt buckle winked.
“Where’s the restroom in this place?” The rough nuances of her voice were a hot tongue on my cock.
I slammed my guitar case too hard.
“Take a left, then a right. Third door on the…”
“Shit, I’m too drunk for all that.” She wobbled on her feet.
“No worries. I’ll take you.” Oh, I’d take her. I was miserable with lust. We stepped out into the dark hallway, and for once I was grateful the studio owners turned off most of the hall lights during the night to save money. “Follow me.”
It sucked she had to walk behind me. I wanted to see her hips move in the hypersexual way they did whenever a girl had to pee. I wanted to believe she was clenching for me. On me.
I turned on the bathroom light for her. “There’s a kitchen right there.” I pointed to the door opposite the bathroom.”I’ll be in there killing the Thai food the band neglected earlier.” I turned, but she grabbed my wrist. Squeezed.
“Save me some red curry.” Her voice licked at me again. I wrapped my hand around her wrist and squeezed. Even then, I couldn’t help mirroring her movements. Her silver bangle was hot to the touch.
“Anything you want.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. She squeezed my forearm again, then let go and closed the door.
I didn’t have an appetite. The low feedback buzzing in my head got louder and louder and it was hard to keep still. I felt my skin moving over my muscles, every hair as it stood on end.
I heard a bump on the bathroom door and moved to knock. I decided against it. I didn’t want her to think I was pacing in front of it, even though I was. I heard heels grinding on tile. Another bump. I took a chance, put my ear against the door.
I heard a sigh, then the lowest of moans. Her body [her beautiful tight sweet-smelling sweaty body] was pressed against the door. She was rhythmically rubbing against it.
My Adam’s apple clicked so hard I jumped, afraid she would hear it.
The rubbing got louder. There was a little moan, then a whisper. My name.
I let out a groan that made the wood of the door vibrate. My skin was white over my knuckles I held the doorknob so hard. It was not locked.
She stood in the middle of the floor with her jeans down to her ankles. Her inner thighs were glossy. Her shirt was lifted over one of her breasts, and her hard nipple shone. The hand she held out to me was wet.
“I want you to finish what you started,” she said. The roughness had gone out of her voice. Her need to be filled had stripped her of her borrowed swagger. I wanted to kiss the sweat from the back of her neck, lick the crease underneath the swells of her breasts but she couldn’t spare the time. When she bent over the sink her pussy lips smiled at me, pulsing as insistently as my cock.
She was hot as her voice was. My hips moved in liquid jabs that made her shiver, my fingers fast and firm on her clit. Even her moans were music, a rough lilting rhythm that matched my thrusts.
“Play me,” she said. She pulled my hair and guided my mouth to hers. I slid my hand underneath her shirt and squeezed her breasts, then tugged on her nipples. She let out a strangled groan. “Just like that…”
We were both in our element and she was taut and vibrating, singing her siren song. I held her close to the hip and coaxed the sweetest notes out of her. She breathed my breath, sang into my mouth. I’d found her sweet spot. I was deep in her belly, filling her so good the echo of her pleasure bounced against me and made me double over with her in front of me.
She snapped against me like a string that’s been plucked too hard. She was coming, hard and copious. I didn’t know until that moment how much my voice had joined hers. My groans were rough and desperate as I fucked into her cunt. She grabbed me by my hair and moved her hips in tight circles that took my breath away.
“Oh no, honey,” she said. She pressed my hands to her breasts. Her nipples were still pebbly from her orgasm. “Don’t get silent now. Sing for me.” She got on her tiptoes and slammed down on my cock until her pussy resisted. She continued to do that, slam and grind, until I was reduced to drawn out whimpers. Her breast bounced heavily in my trembling hands and the scent of our sex made me hurt. As she bounced faster, her her eyes looked glassy with another orgasm.
“Make it sing…” she said softly between moans. I pounded into her even as my balls ached to release. I wanted to ride her orgasm. She gripped my cock again, harder and slower than before. I exploded with a groan. I fucked my orgasm into her so eagerly our skins slapped and her head jerked rhythmically…
I didn’t notice the pain in my scalp until I was spent. She was still pulling my hair. She let go reluctantly and kissed me. My lips were still trembling. I couldn’t quite believe what had happened, but she was still in my arms. And I was still inside her.
“I hope this won’t be the last time we do this,” she said as I slid out of her.
I nodded emphatically as she tucked me back into my boxers.
She walked to the fridge for a beer. My eyes followed her, still hungry. I’d not been able to explore her curves nearly as much as they deserved. My base player sat at the kitchen table, eating sushi and texting.
“That was quite a performance,” he said, not looking up from his phone. She burst out laughing.