The Blues

The wipers beat their steady, mesmerizing cadence as the car moved down the street. Her hands gripped the wheel, her foot was on the pedal, but the car was on its own, bound for only it knew where. The night had called her. The feelings, intense, dark, powerful, had wakened her as so many nights before. She had dressed, not thinking, not comprehending, simply reacting.

The car slowed, entered a lot, and stopped. She looked up, only vaguely recognizing the location. The door opened. She put one leg out, the long thin heel of her shoe touched ground. She stood and looked down only just aware of her appearance. Why had she dressed this way? She could not fathom the answer. Skirt, much too short for being out alone. Top, so low cut her breasts practically spilled out the front. The silk of her stockings stretched into the straps of the high heels. She smiled. Something was happening. There was a logic behind this, she knew. It was just not possible to comprehend it yet.

She entered the building, the strains of a mediocre blues band filled the smoky air. She moved to a booth, isolated from the small crowd gathered closer to the stage. Why was she here? She smoked and drank little. Generally, she avoided such places as this like the plague. Yet something had brought her here, tonight. A waitress approached, she ordered water. The disapproving look she received in response did not surprise her. This was not an order the girl could handle, yet she moved off, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Her eyes scanned the room. No familiar faces, just bodies, people she did not know. No one returned her gaze. Some were lost in concentration, others in drink. She waited. Her water arrived, bottled, a pleasant surprise in such a place. She opened it and sipped. The music came to her, familiar. She gazed at the stage. Yes, this was why she was here. She knew the instant she saw him. Tall, lean, hair on his shoulders. The harmonica moved across his lips, the mournful wail, the sadness it evoked. She watched as he played, black shirt damp from perspiration. The orange-red lights obviously hot. His solo ended, he stepped back into the shadows as the guitarist took over. She paid him no attention, her focus still on the man in the shadows. She sipped again, and waited.

The set ended, taped music replacing that which had come from the stage. The lights brightened slightly, illuminating the dinginess around her. The tall man left the stage. She felt, rather than saw, his eyes take her in. She did not look up as he approached. He stood in front of her booth, waiting, expectant. She did not acknowledge his presence. Finally, after several agonizingly long moments, he spoke.

"I knew you would come. Felt it… here." He touched his chest. Without invitation, he sat across from her, his eyes wandering across her body, lingering on her cleavage. She looked up, at last, no trace of emotion on her face.

"Yes," she said, "I am here. Do you know why?"

"No," he replied. "Should I? There is no reason. The fates, they make things happen, they offer no explanation. We must accept that. Does this bother you greatly?"

She noted the hint of a smile through the hairs of his beard. She felt a tingle deep within her, rising from her groin. The ache she felt so often in the night was receding. His presence was a difference. Perhaps, she thought, this is why I am here.

"Do you have another set coming up?" she asked, masking the questions she really needed to ask.

He laughed gently, the sound thrilled her ears, lit up her soul.

"No, I don't play in the band. There are times, such as tonight, when I need release. I come here, they let me play with them. It helps."

She smiled then, the first time that night. Her hand moved across the table, a finger traced along the veins of his hand. Beneath the table, she crossed her legs, her foot brushing against his leg.

"Then you are free?"

"Yes."

"Mmm. Good." She smiled again. "Come with me?"

Without answering he rose, helping her to her feet. She led, he followed, out into the rain, and the night.

They drove in silence, the rain on the car's roof the only sound. Her hands were glued to the wheel. She stared straight ahead. His eyes did not leave her breasts, which jutted prominently from within the front of her jacket. His breath was warm. He felt the rush of his heart.

"Turn here." He told her.

She responded without answering, guiding the car down a narrow side street.

"Pull over anywhere along here." Again, she complied with his directions, not questioning his intent. She knew his intent. It was her own as well.

They exited the car, walking quickly through the rain to the large building that loomed ahead. He opened the door and led her to a freight elevator.

"Spartan, I know. But it suits me," he said, closing the grate and pulling the lever. Slowly they rose, stopping at the top, the third level. It opened onto one large, single room. A kitchen stood off to the left, several pictures, mostly of musicians or sorcerers adorned the brick of the walls. A small table with a lamp stood by the low bed, which was centered under the massive skylight. A stereo, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a desk with a computer completed the furnishings. Sparse. Open. Stark.

He crossed the room, leaving her by the elevator. A spark, then he began lighting candles. Soon, the room was ablaze in their glow. He turned on the stereo and music filled the room. She did not recognize the singer. Soft, haunting, female vocals. She felt a shiver along her spine. He approached her, slipped her jacket from her shoulders, pausing, again, to gaze at her. Unconsciously, she thrust her breasts farther out, allowing him a better view of her cleavage.

He slipped an arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the center of the cavernous room. She heard the patter of the rain striking the skylight overhead. His finger slipped under her chin, tilting her head. His face lowered to meet hers. Their lips touched. Yes, this was the need, the desire. She surrendered to it. She had come too far, she felt it was time to go the rest of the way. Her arms encircled him, pulling him into her. The kiss deepened, their tongues met, tasted. She slid hers deep into his mouth, savoring his flavor. His hands slid to her rump, fingers digging into the soft flesh, squeezing. She felt the moisture between her legs dampening her panties. She pushed hard against him, her breasts crushed up against his chest, his hardness burning through his pants, onto her stomach. The kiss did not end.

As one, they moved to the bed. She fell back, pulling him onto her. His weight excited her, she felt covered, encompassed. She moved a hand to his shirt as he continued to stroke her legs, his fingers running over the top of her stockings, along the little strap that held them in place. The heat of his hand exhilarated her. She began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it open, exposing the grey and black hairs of his chest. Finally, after an eternity, she broke off the kiss, and buried her face in his chest, nuzzling the hairs, licking a nipple, running her hot lips along his skin.

His hands slid under her panties, grasping the cool flesh of her buttocks. A knee went between her legs. The pressure of his bone against her pubic region caused her to practically swoon. Yes. This was what she wanted. She pulled at his shirt, tearing it from him. Her hands moved to his belt, fumbled momentarily with the buckle as she fought her desire, then pulled it free of the loops. She unfastened the button of his pants, found the zipper tab, pulled. His cock sprang free of the fly of his shorts, its purple head jutting from the opening. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him up to a kneeling position. His cock erect and throbbing in front of her.

His hands found the zipper of her dress and undid it. She shook herself out of it and sat on the bed in front of him. Her red bra matched the garter belt, panties, stockings, and shoes. Even though she had not been aware of it, she had dressed for passion. His eyes glowed in the candlelight as he looked at her in awe. His penis bobbed in front of him, demonstrating his appreciation of her.

She rose to her knees, steadied herself on one arm, reached out the other, and took his hot member between her fingers. She bent down and gently blew along the head of his cock. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in anticipation. But she hesitated. Her fingers moved along the veiny shaft as she savored his feel. Her eyes took in the little bumps on the head, so smooth, so red. She stared for a moment at the slit, already wet from his precum, his excitement. She knew what he wanted, but she would make him wait.

She dropped her head still lower, the breath from her nostrils causing his balls to move within the hairy sack as she examined every minute part of his genitals. Finally, her tongue snaked out, slowly, tantalizingly, and ran along the very bottom of his scrotum. He moaned in pleasure and anticipation. She knew he wanted her to take him into her mouth. She would make him cry for it.

A hand in her hair, His fingers entwined, pulling her towards him. She resisted, looked up, met his eyes. She smiled at his want, his need. "Please?" he whispered

Yes, he had said it, had asked. She would give him what he sought, she would.. please… him. She took the head of his cock between her lips and gently, oh so very softly, began to suck. His fingers tightened in her hair as she did so. Her mouth began to move down the length of his shaft, slowly taking him deeper into her moist warmth. She felt the glow building between her legs as she did so, as his hand began to stroke the back of her head.

She pulled back, just the tip of its head still resting on her lips. Rapidly, she began to bob, her fingers working in time with her mouth, manipulating the base of his penis as her lips worked over the upper half. Her tongue began to roll along front of the head, the slit, the glans. He moaned and pulled her head hard onto him. She fought back a gag as his cock went deep into her mouth, almost touching the back of her throat. She increased the tempo, bobbing faster, rocking on her knees, her weight straining against her supporting arm. Her eyes rolled up to meet his again, his cock deep in her mouth.

He smiled, a look of pure bliss. She felt him begin to enlarge, to throb. She sensed he was near explosion. Should she give him release, or torture him more? The feeling of power she had was stimulating.

Her panties were now soaked from her own excitement and desire. She made a decision, and increased the speed of her oral stroking. He groaned. She tightened the grip of her fingers on his base, delaying his orgasm, then released, allowing the first strong spurt of his salty semen to hit the back of her throat. She felt it slide as she swallowed. He shot again and again. Her fingers moved to stroke him, her mouth released the spurting head. His jism splattered along her cheek, up the side of her face, into her hair. She moved his hot, pulsing shaft along the softness of her cheek, feeling the last few squirts of his cum ooze out onto her face. Only then, when he had finished, did she release him.

She looked up again, her face splattered with his whiteness, and licked her lips. His fingers went to her face, wiping up the sticky residue. He touched her lips, letting her taste him again. She went to his cock again, licking him clean. He leaned down, his lips met hers, his tongue moved deep into her mouth, tasting himself there. At long last, he broke free of her mouth. Gently, he pushed her back onto the bed, smiling at the darkness of her panties between her legs.

"You were…. Wonderful," he whispered. "Now it is your turn."

She smiled in reply and lay back, awaiting his touch.

He knelt by her side, his hands moving slowly, lightly across the skin of her stomach, just above the waist of her garter belt. She closed her eyes and smiled, confident in the knowledge that she looked devastating. She spread her legs and smelled the odor of her desire, strong and hot. His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing the soft globes through the fabric of the bra. She raised her arms above her head, stretching up and out. She felt the stiff wrinkle of her hair where his semen had hardened. She smiled inwardly at the thought. She didn't care. It was his, let it stay. His fingers found the snap of the bra, separating the cups. He opened it, allowing the fullness of her breasts to spill out. His intake of breath bespoke his appreciation.

He lowered his lips to a nipple and sucked gently, pulling the pliant flesh in his lips, away from her body, stretching it as it hardened yet more. His fingers moved around the soft flesh, pushing more of her into his mouth. He sucked, his lips warm and moist. A tingle went straight to her crotch and she spread her legs wider, stretched her arms higher above her head, forcing even more of her flesh into his mouth. He nursed liked a babe, taking her nipple and working it until she wanted to cry out in delicious pain. His large hand moved between her legs, the back of it stroking along her inner thigh, the fingers playing at the elastic in the fold of her leg.

She moaned from the pressure of his lips on her breast. His fingers curled up and under the fabric of her panties, gripping the waistband. He pulled. Slowly it slid down. She brought her legs together closer, allowing him to pull the confining undergarment away, over her knees, her ankles, the heel of her shoes, which she still had on. He straightened, digesting with his eyes the look of her. The shining shoes, the red stockings attached to the garter belt, her nipples, one distinctly more reddened than the other. Her lips, her eyes, the wave of her hair.

He reached above her, pulling a pillow to him. With one hand, he lifted her ass from the bed, slipping the pillow underneath her with the other. Her hips were elevated, her cunt, as she spread her legs, angled up towards him. He smiled again, and licked his lips. He moved around, his limp penis hidden between his legs which now were next to her side. She saw his ass rise up as he lowered his face to her crotch. His breath hot on her pubic hair. His teeth lightly grazed the tuft of hair, pulling gently but painfully at the curling black strands. He reached both of his arms forwards, fingers touching her inner thighs and spread her wide. His tongue slid out, gliding down her pubic bone, to the beginning of her slit.

Her clitoris began to throb as the tip of his tongue touched her. She spasmed as it slid along the sensitive bud, jutting from its protective fold of skin . His fingers forced her wider, more open, the cool night air on her opening. She pictured the steam rising from her heat. He slid his wet, wet tongue down, along the folds of her labia, pushing into her vagina from above, lapping like a puppy at her inner softness. She moaned aloud, oblivious to everything but the touch of his tongue as he probed and lapped, her juices flowing now, the floodgates open. She felt the wetness roll down the crack between her buttocks, and his tongue followed, stopping at her rectum.

He spread her legs again, allowing his tongue to just enter the tight puckered hole. Her head spun from the delight of this new sensation. His fingers of one hand entered her vagina. First one, then a second, and a third. His tongue lapped at her rectum, softly fucking it. She felt the first wave of orgasm spread out and over her body. She arched her back, grasped a breast in her hand, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger as she came… the orgasm sweeping her away. His fingers and tongue worked in tandem to build n and extend her pleasure until she felt she would pass out. She bucked her hips, the last of the indescribable pleasure washing over her. Then she relaxed. He raised up, his fingers still softly stroking the lips of her pussy. He smiled, and licked his lips.

His hand took hers and moved it to between his legs. She laughed in delight. He was hard again.

She smiled with delight. The rebirth of his hardness triggered an uncontrollable urge in her. She knew she should be sated. Never had she experienced quite the feeling he had just given her. But she wanted more, she wanted it all. She pulled on his shaft, hot and firm in the palm of her hand, guiding him towards her. He shifted to between her legs, her pelvis still elevated by the pillow. She led his erection to the entrance of her heat, feeling her wetness moisten the tip of his burning cock. Slowly he pushed forward, supporting his weight above her on his arms, the veins in them standing out in exertion. His cock parted her hot swollen lips. She sucked in her breath at the feeling as he began to fill her.

The void, the emptiness she sometimes felt, replaced by this feeling of fullness, of being completed. Her lubrication, still flowing thickly from her vagina, eased his entry. As his hips pushed forward she let out a gasp of delight. She swung her legs up and around his buttocks, pulling him in, as deep as he could go. Tightly she held him there, deep, not allowing him to move. His eyes locked on hers, his lips spread into a grin. He leaned forward, lips to hers, tongue entering her mouth. Moving about in opposition to the stillness of his cock. She reached up her arms, sliding hands along his sides, feeling him. Long moments passed before she released the pressure of her legs, allowing him to move.

Methodically he began to stroke, pulling his hips back then pushing forward, back and forward, establishing a rhythm. Her butt moved off the pillow as her legs continued to grip him, then fell back on its softness. Up and down, in, almost out, seconds to minutes…. Time seeming to stand still. His eyes closed, his face strained, yet still smiling. He increased the tempo, sensing her need. Faster and faster, still without words, his cock filling her, easing the ache that lay deep inside. Then, surprisingly, he stopped, pulling out. Her face fell with disappointment. Not now!! Not when she was so close.

He rolled off her, next to her. His hands reached out and turned her small body away from him, onto her side. He slipped in close to her, his chest and stomach pressed against her back. His hand reached down, slipped under her thigh, lifted her leg into the air. She felt his cock pressing against her cunt lips, spread wide by the pull of her leg. He was in her again. She gasped at the feel of him from that direction. So different than before, yet just as good. He began to buck his hips, slapping skin against her. The sound rose above the music, his breathing faster, hot in her ear. His hand slid over her hip, found her clitoris, his finger beginning to play with it as his cock continued to zip in and back, the rhythm causing waves of pleasure to coarse through her body.

She strained to reach her hand down, past his, touching his shaft as it moved in and out of her, so slick, so hot. Her fingers grazed his balls. A single word escaped his lips, "Yesssssssss." He hissed. She felt him grow, felt her own desire peak. Then, as one, the orgasm, his release, hot, gushing, filling, timed perfectly with hers. She saw stars, cried out she knew not what, jerked, spasmed, arching her back away from him. He slowed, still moving, but softly, within her. His lips grazed her shoulders. She closed her eyes, squeezed her legs together, holding him in. They stayed as one, not moving, breathing slowly, easily, as sleep overtook them. They lay, naked, beneath the skylight, the rain still pattering above them, until the dreams came.