Music Man

Descending underground down the narrow stairs, there was a slightly uncomfortable anxiety in the pit of her tummy. Would anyone find her should it go terribly wrong? The interest was stronger than the fear and she followed him down.

She caught a faint smell getting stronger the lower she got. Stale beer, rubber on cables running from guitars to amps to mixing boards.... and sex. There is no smell quite like a band room, and she knew the smell well, though it had been years since she'd breathed it in. 20 years, and still the energy of the creativity, the risk, the stepping out of bounds, the music waiting to be born penetrated deep and took her back. She found herself smiling.

She noticed the sound proofing on the walls, no one would hear any screams. There was only the one way out - the long stack of stairs. This excited her all the more. His energy was powerful, she did feel trust, she wanted to know more.

Sitting on the leather couches talking, she watched him carefully. Talking sex on the phone in flirting innuendo was different than being alone, face to face. Her eyes were alive as they shared experiences, musical and sexual. He couldn't be still, his leg was bouncing, feet tapping, fingers drumming. She found herself having to consciously slow her breathing. The excitement was something she wanted to savour, taste, swallow, feel.

He had strong arms, as you'd expect a drummer to have. He had man hands. He could overpower her. She liked knowing that.

He was full of questions. Have you this have you that? Do you like this or like that? She had some of her own. She already knew is affinity for large titties and she felt herself run a fingernail over the top round as he stared. As she opened herself, she watched his reactions to her words. He wiggled and adjusted, and grazed over the bulge in his jeans.

"Do you mind if I take my cock out?"

No.

"Damn those are nice! How big are they?"

C or D, depending.

"Fuck!" he said lightly stroking his cock.

She was squirming now too, feeling slippery and hot. They talked more, he stroked. Her breathing was short and rapid. She really hadn't decided if she wanted to take it further, but watching his cock, seeing the fire in his eyes, she felt herself getting hungry.

After talking, watching, wiggling, she finally said... so am I supposed to just watch you, or can I touch?

"Do you want to touch?"

She loved that he was making her say it out loud.... Yes.

He smiled and opened his hands up to gesture her to him.

On her knees in front of him, looking up as he reclined on the couch, she inhaled him. There was something about the scent of his cock waiting for touch that required a moment to let it envelop her. Lips close, but not touching yet, feeling the heat.... wet lips open to take him. He moans and his hands find her head.

Part of her wants him to jam her face onto his cock, wants him to take it. But he's gently coaxing as she swallows him whole. The head pushing into the back of her throat makes him moan and her get wetter still. She can smell her pussy heat, mixed with his precum and she knows then she's approaching.... the dark place...

The place you don't talk about at parties... the place you come undone.... the place you confess and some ask forgiveness about... that place is one she knows well, one she aches for. So when it arrives, what little inhibitions she was born with disappear.

He pulled her up to sit on him and owned those nipples with his mouth. Tit men always seem to know how to cream a girl by how he touches her nipples. Damn. She could ride him there... she could feed him her tits and feel him fill her....but she let him lead on.

He pushed her down again and this time she took all of him at once. He had no idea - probably has none still - of how hungry she was, of how she wanted him to take her. His hands in her hair, his cock fucking into her mouth, the low growly sound as he exploded into her throat... all fueled her.

Her little tights were soaking wet well down the thighs, her clit throbbing, her bald little cunt slippery with need. Stale beer was overshadowed by the smell of sex as she tasted his cum and let it drip down onto her tits.

She went home to her husband tasting his cum, smelling of his cum. She came three times on the way home.

It wasn't to be more that day. Perhaps another day he'll make her come undone, perhaps it was one Friday afternoon in an underground rehearsal space and a mouthful of cum.