Fill the Need in Me

Another conference, another hotel, another spot on the map. On this night, Glen decided to skip out on dinner and drinks with his colleagues in search of the soul of the city. He could only socialize with the other conference participants for so long before he went crazy wanting real human interaction. There was only so much academic pretension that he could take. He walked the crowded downtown streets in the warehouse district where all of the city's nightlife seemed to be. Girls were out wearing all styles of dress, looking to catch. Guys were out on the prowl. He wanted to avoid the usual meat markets. He had long tired of young twenty-somethings in the typical dance clubs. Some good live music would do him well.

He passed a few places that advertised live music but after peeking inside, none of them held his interest. He was picky when it came to music -- a solid beat, grooving bass line, and a few horns were damn near prerequisites. Good vocalists, keyboard and guitar players to round it out. It was strange then, what drew him to the non-distinct bar in front of which he now stood. The posters pasted across the front of the non-descript building explained everything without really saying anything at all. There was simply one word, presumably her name, and a blown up panoramic picture of her eyes whose color matched her moniker, in striking contrast against a black background. There was something in those eyes that pulled at him and would not let him go. He walked inside and enquired about the band to the woman selling admission just inside the door.

The musicians had already taken the stage and had been playing for almost an hour, he learned, before paying the cover and entering. The bearer of those eyes was nowhere to be found. He surveyed the scene of young-to-middle-aged locals and professionals. Some were on the floor dancing to the music while others were drinking and talking with each other. A drink sounded good, so he scanned the bar for promising conquests before deciding upon where to go to place his order. What drew him to her was the pert ass she displayed as she bent over to make herself heard to the bar tender. She looked to be in her early thirties, filling out a tight pair of jeans ever so sweetly. There was an opening at the bar next to her that gave him his chance.

They chatted promisingly about the band currently playing and the local music scene, feeling each other out. She was local and there with some friends, and knew this band well. She seemed fine with staying and talking to him, a promising sign. In the back of his mind he heard the music stop while one of the male band members said something in the manner of an introduction bringing out the lead vocalist. He turned his focus back to his conversation, which had now turned flirtatious. She was laughing at his jokes, and he was laughing at hers -- always a pleasant surprise. A cacophony of hoots, claps and whistles from the crowd sought to draw his attention back toward the stage but he stayed focused on the woman in front of him who he was really starting to like.

It was the voice that got to him first, though, and made it hard to concentrate on the conversation he was having. He kept trying to focus on... what was her name? Shit, he couldn't ask her again. But that voice. There was a longing in it, a need that made him turn away from what's-her-name and look toward the stage. She was a woman slightly taller than average, with a thick mane of rich dark hair. She wore a classically chic black dress that smoothly hugged her curves and came down to about mid thigh. A pair of stockings covered her shapely legs, and he wondered if they were thigh-highs, or if perhaps she wore a garter. Then he saw them, the eyes that had drawn him into this place. They were mesmerizing, not simply because of their striking green hue, but because there was so much emotion in them. There was a hunger in them, a longing for... something, something more out of this world and out of this life. As she sang she looked over the crowd, seemingly searching but her eyes seemed resolved to the fact that she would not find what she was looking for.

It was a bluesy-rock number the band was playing. It started slow but was building in intensity, giving you the feeling of being lost in a storm. But steady in that storm there she stood, on the mic simply repeating two words, over and over again. Every time she said the words he got further lost in the insistent manner in which she sang them. Just two words, sang a little bit behind the beat, producing the most hypnotic effect. Every man in that place -- and a few of the women - was staring at her as if they wanted to make love to her. She could not have been more disinterested.

"Glen, are you even listening to me?"

"Oh, sorry about that. I didn't mean to be rude, I just got distracted by the music. Do you know the name of this song?"

"It's called 'Feel the Need in Me,' one of their signature songs," she explained, looking a little annoyed that she had lost his attention. He offered to buy her another drink to make up for it, meanwhile desperately trying to remember her name. What the hell was it?!

Back in their conversation, he smiled and nodded as she told him what she does for a living, but he struggled to comprehend any of it. The woman on the stage, her voice, those eyes, still repeating just two words, the same two words, over and over again -- he could not help but to steal glances to the side trying to see her. Feeling clever he positioned himself more to the right where he could discretely look over the left shoulder of the woman to which he was supposed to be flirting. This way, he could see the woman on stage who continued to hypnotize him with her voice and those eyes. It was a smooth try, but not smooth enough. He thought he heard her ask him again if he was paying attention, but he couldn't put it all together in time to give her a good answer. While he stumbled for a coherent response, she turned and walked away.

It was just as well, he really could not concentrate on their conversation with the effect the woman singing was having on him. He stepped closer to the stage walking through the dancing crowd as if it were involuntary. Her eyes scanned over the audience, nonplused by all the adoring stares of love-struck men. They finally came to settle on his. He was looking at her with an intensity that threatened to burn right through her. Something inside told her he was unique, kindred.

Should he sit, wait and try to talk to her later? Should he stand there and just stare? She was killing him with this song and the intensity of her gaze. He felt like she was standing upon the stage telling the entire world his every secret, his every hidden desire with just those two words, and it was driving him mad. It wasn't in the words themselves, but all in the way she sang them, the emotion behind them. In fact, the words inadequately conveyed the vibe she was emoting, what she was really feeling. He felt the need in her, and thought he knew what that need was for. Every time she repeated those two words one of his doubts flew out the door. The music was building in force, moving toward a crescendo. The horns punched out a blazing wind that pushed the crowd into the air, while the guitarist was lost in a blistering solo. The pitch and intensity with which she sang those two words grew with the music. Over and over she sang those words until he could not take it any more.

As the song reached its climax she hopped off the front of the stage. He dashed toward her, grabbed her hand and together they ran through a back door. In the hallway backstage he pushed her against the wall and asked, "Who are you?" She only repeated those same two words as they heard the audience go wild with applause. As he stared in her eyes the force of her need grabbed him and took his breath away. It was something dark, primitive, that she couldn't really give voice to. She couldn't tell her own soul's deepest secret. So with this simple phrase and her emotion, she told his. Defiantly, she repeated her refrain as her eyes stared down into his soul:

"Love me," she said, as they heard the band outside break back into the final throes of the song for an encore. "Love me."

He kissed her hard and insistently as the crying guitar soared in their ears. Her return kiss was hungry, greedy in the way it devoured his lips and tongue. Hairs stood up on his skin as he felt the surge of electricity rush through them. She broke out in goose bumps as the kiss deepened. He chewed on the juicy fullness of her bottom lip, biting down almost too hard, which sent a shiver up her spine. Then abruptly, she broke free.

"What's the matter?" he asked her, confused at the interruption. She said noting but shifted her eyes to focus on something behind him. He turned and saw a door labeled "Dressing Room" before turning back to focus on her. "Love me," was all she said.

He got the hint, grabbed her hand and pushed through the dressing room door. Luckily, there was a lock on the other side. The room was small and dim, with a makeup counter underneath a lighted mirror on one wall. They kissed again as he locked the door, then pushed her back toward the makeup counter. He lifted her to where she was sitting on the counter as she reached to unbutton his shirt. They had only spoken a handful of words to each other yet no more were necessary. They could each feel the heat coming off the other's skin. He ran his hands up her thighs and up under her skirt, feeling where her thigh-highs ended and his hands came in contact with bare skin. It was hot to his touch, and he rubbed the insides of her thighs, teasing her and making her tremble. She pushed his shirt back off his shoulders and dragged her mouth down to his chest, tasting, licking and nibbling his skin along the way. She rubbed her nose across his chest and through his chest hair, stopping right at his left armpit. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, smelling the heady mixture of his unique male scent, a hint of sweat and his aftershave. He lifted his left arm and placed his hand on the mirror, then brought his right hand to the back of her head, grabbing her hair and pushing her face in deeper. Instinctively she opened her mouth and began to lick him there with abandon, savoring his male flavors on her tongue. She didn't even know his name.

He pulled her head back almost roughly and stared into her eyes that were ablaze with adrenaline. Only at that point did he fully feel and understand just what the need in her was. It was the reason why all her adoring fans, who stared at her with love in their eyes, wanting to make love to her, failed to hold her interest. No, her need was a void, tucked away and hidden in the bottom of her soul. She had never fully given voice to it, never shared her secret with anyone. If you didn't fully understand her, you would think her two words had been a lie, masking what she could never say. It was not something she could ever ask of someone. The discerning eye would just have to recognize it, only possible if he shared the same void. Her need was to fill that void, by getting fucked to within an inch of her life. Not out of cruelty, not out of misogyny, not out of bitterness, but out of love. The realization left him lightheaded.

He shoved her face into his other armpit, enjoying the fever of nastiness that had taken over her. He let go of her head and reached back down between her thighs, knowing he'd find wetness there. She was drenched, and not a stitch of fabric separated her sticky wetness from his large, probing fingers. As she felt a long thick finger penetrate her, she moved her mouth to his nipple and bit down on it, hard. She began to chew on it and it was stinging him, but he couldn't stop her. It was an exquisite pain, as for every chew there was a lick and a suck. He had never even considered his nipples an erogenous zone, but she was stirring something deep in him. He stuck a second finger in her and began to probe her depths with urgency. Her sopping cunt was tight but was so flooded it offered no resistance, so he inserted a third. She growled and dragged her mouth over to his other nipple, attacking it with the same aggressiveness. He couldn't take it any longer. He pulled her head back then jerked his fingers from dripping cunt and shoved them in her mouth. She sucked on them wantonly, grabbing his hand to prevent him from taking the sloppy treat away from her.

"You are a dirty slut, aren't you?" he demanded, with so much intensity in his voice that he sounded angry.

"Love me," she said breathlessly, releasing his fingers briefly before shoving them back into her mouth, licking between each finger to collect every drop.

His dick positively ached at the lewd display she put on for him. It needed some attention, and fast. He pulled her down off the table and pushed her down onto her knees with her back against the wall. She immediately went to work on his belt, unbuckling, unbuttoning, and unzipping his pants. She pulled them down as he kicked his shoes off and stepped out of them. He pushed her head back until it was touching the wall, then he put the head of his cock against her lips and said, "Open."

With her head against the wall, there was no where to go, no way of escaping the pending onslaught she knew she was in for. But the onslaught didn't come. Maybe she misjudged him. He put just the head in her mouth and commanded her to look up at him. He just stared into her rich green eyes and didn't move. She was actually a little scared. He was larger than what she was used to, she didn't know if she could take him. But her dripping pussy betrayed the fact that she was dying to try. He flexed his cock in her mouth so she could feel his head expand on her tongue. The suddenness of it made her jump slightly, thinking that he was about to shove himself into her, but still he did not move. He flexed again, sending a rush of blood into his dick and a dribble of pre-cum onto her tongue. Her eyes lit up and she licked hungrily at his slit, sucking voraciously to try to coax more out. She attempted to move her lips forward on her own but he held her in place, not letting her mover either. All she could do was use her tongue on him, so she let it go to work, never breaking eye contact with him. She swirled her tongue around his head, against the underside, and then back and forth through his piss slit. He smiled at her warmly and moaned. She relaxed, her eyes almost closing to mere slits, and let her tongue continue to flutter all over his head.

She would have screamed when it came but she couldn't. Her nose was buried in his pubic hair and his balls slapped up against her chin as he slammed his dick down her throat. He held it there, and wouldn't let her move, his hips pinning her head against the wall. She thought she might suffocate if he didn't let her breathe soon. He pulled out to just the tip again and let her catch her breath while he flexed his head once more on her tongue. She immediately looked up at him, pleading with her eyes for another shafting down her gullet. He smiled again, this time like the devil himself, and began a steady brutal rhythm of fucking her face. Her nose filled with his musky male scent every time it got buried in his curly pubic hair, and she tried desperately to breathe more of him in. the room was filled with the wet sounds of him forcing himself down her throat as she tried to suppress the urge to gag. She grabbed his ass and held on for dear life, hoping that he didn't break her neck as he got lost in his passion for her.

She was amazing in how she took it. Better than he thought possible. He had to stop, or else he would cum down her throat in a torrent. He planned on cuming in her mouth alright, just not yet. There were so many more dirty bad things he had to do with her first.

After viciously taking her throat for about five minutes he pulled his dick from her ravenous mouth abruptly. It was rock hard and shiny with her spit dripping off of it, and it was throbbing with fury. He lifted her to her feet and brought her back in front of the mirror then spun her around. He unzipped her dress in the back and let it fall off of her. No panties, no bra, just stockings and black heels. God, she was one sexy bitch! He looked at her eyes in the mirror. They had a dreamy gloss to them, anxious with anticipation of what was to come next. He took his dick in his hand and slapped it hard against the tone cheeks of her ass.

"You want this, don't you? You need this," he said, his voice raspy with desire.

"Love me," was all she said in response.

With an open palm he smacked her across the ass in frustration. 'You're gonna beg me for this,' he said to himself. 'God damn it you will moan for me and beg me for this!' "Bend over, arch your back, and stick out your ass!" he commanded. She did as instructed.

Suddenly he got down on his knees behind her and lewdly pulled apart the cheeks of her ass, inspecting both her holes. They were hairless. Her pussy was oozing profusely, and her pretty little asshole was pink and tight, clenching and unclenching in excitement, as if blowing him a kiss. He bent forward and buried his nose right into the hole of her cunt, and snorted her juices directly into his nostrils. Her scent was intoxicating and she heard him groan his approval. It had the smell of flowers, of female must, and of raw sex. She wiggled back against his face, trying to get more stimulation. His lips and tongue reached for her clit as his nose stayed buried in her dripping hole. He sucked on her clit and laved it with his tongue as she pushed her pussy back onto his face. He was bringing her too close too soon, and her breath was becoming ragged with an impending orgasm. Sensing this, he stopped.

Giving her clit a respite he began to slide his tongue into her pussy. It still felt amazing, but it was less intense and allowed her to slow down the freight train of an orgasm that was approaching. She wanted him inside her when she came, wanted to feel his fullness stretching her. She reached back to grab his head, holding him in place. His tongue swirled inside her and his nose came to rest directly on her anus. His nostrils flared and he inhaled deeply, breathing in her musky scent. She was wonderfully clean, yet it was oh so dirty. The heady aroma of her pussy mixed with the musk of her asshole was like a shot of cocaine to his brain, sending his neurotransmitters firing in a blaze. He lost control and began tongue-fucking her with abandon, slamming his face into her ass and his nose against her murky hole. He had to taste it, too, so he brought his tongue out of her pussy and licked around the crinkly pink folds guarding her most precious entrance. She mewed with filthy enjoyment, wiggling her ass back at him trying to force his tongue into that hole as well. He probed at her with his tip as she began to relax. Within three minutes the tip of his tongue was deep in her asshole, ticking the muscles of her sphincter. He reached up between her legs to finger her pussy and rub her clit as he tongue-fucked her ass. The wicked filthiness was too much for her to take -- she came on his face, her juices running down his chin.

In one swift move before she could catch her breath he had stood and impaled her cunt on his shaft. There was no buildup, no gradual increase. Just like that, he was fucking her roughly. His large hands had an iron grip on her hips and ass, pulling her to him to meet his brutal thrusts. He grunted angrily with each vicious stab into her womb. She tried desperately not to scream out loud.

Just as abruptly he withdrew from her and got back down on his knees, tongue-fucking her pussy. Then with his tongue all coated with her cunt juice, he again tongue-fucked her ass, loosening her up and driving her mad. Then he was back up on his feet, driving his cock back into her pussy. This went on and on until she was delirious with the need to have him push her over the edge. He sensed she was ready, and jammed his dick in her sopping cunt with angry thrusts a few more times then pulled it out completely. He slapped its wet and dripping head against her anus. Her asshole flexed involuntarily, now hungry for the invasion.