Coffee And Cream

I felt like an outsider when Samantha dragged me along to her club, The Nebula. I knew I would be an alien, unwelcome and obscene in a panorama of unfamiliar things. Even the language would be foreign to me, common English broken and browbeaten into something exotic, full of spice and unimagined texture. Even the music, which I’ve been told is universal, would be an uncharted frontier for me. Jazz.

Even that simple term seems strange, like it’s alive and leads a mysterious life all its own somewhere in dark, shaded alleys and fragrant, sultry back rooms. Knowing this, imagining untold embarrassment as others, native to The Nebula spotted me and screamed something akin to “infidel” at me; I still agreed to go with Sam. The old Nordic bloodline reared its savage head and called me a coward, so I gave in. There was an urge, a deep seated desire in the depth of my psyche demanding I discover this new world and conquer a place, some small place to call my own.

A forlorn, lost soldier dressing for a duel looked back from the mirror while I was getting ready. My closet was subjected to the utmost scrutiny, and anything with a hint of flash was discarded. I sought to blend in, as well as a Nordic blonde just three inches shy of six feet might. I dressed seeking camouflage: navy slacks and a close fitting turtleneck. I wanted to blend into the nearest wall I could find in The Nebula. I pulled my moon-silver hair back into a ponytail, slipped on some flats, and ran outside to Samantha’s car.

The Nebula was dark and smoke filled, and stepping inside was like being crushed by a solid wall of sound. We made our way to a postage stamp table, a small lush black woman yelling greetings to anyone who would listen, and a silent white Amazon trying her best to slink through the press of bodies unnoticed. The fabulously beautiful waitress took our orders, a martini for Sam and a badly needed bourbon for me. I took a quick survey under my lashes for anyone staring accusingly at me, and only found a few curious, even admiring glances. The weight I’d been carrying all day fell from my shoulders, leaving only a soft veneer of relief.

With my biggest fear addressed, and no one treating me obviously like an outsider, I settled back to enjoy the music. There was plenty of it. In one of the close corners of the room, there was a stingy slice of stage, home to a mismatched collection of musicians in varying shades of chocolate. Two of the men were refugee-skinny, with amazingly long fingers stroking ivory keys and heavy bass strings, respectively. A radiant, gorgeously rounded woman clutched the mic stand like a lover, humming and crooning in the throes of something I’ve only felt in the darkest, sweatiest parts of the night. Watching her made my inner core thrum and throb in sympathy to the heady, animalistic mood she was weaving over the audience.

I tore myself away from the seductive hypnotism she was building note by husky note. I turned my attention then to the third male on the sliver of stage. My breath caught in my throat. He was tall, around six three or four, and every inch radiated lean muscle. His hands were amazing: broad and solid, wrapped around a gleaming brass sax. His eyes were closed, his long thick lashes brushing his high cheekbones. I found myself following the lean, sculpted line of his body downward. He wore black slacks snugly contoured to his thighs, and I found myself staring at the apex of his exquisite, long legs. His pants were snug there, as well, and smoothly outlining manhood a Greek god would have been proud of.

I caught myself breathing hard, staring at this caramel coloured beauty onstage. I drew my gaze back up his fabulous body to his strong face, fascinated by his mouth as he blew soul-shattering notes from his sax. Some increasingly lusty demon in me willed him to look up, to open his eyes and see me. The heavy music he was making vibrated the floor, seeming to radiate across the narrow club and find haven between my thighs. Every tone he created curled tantalizing fingers around my throbbing clitoris. I shifted in my chair, my thighs falling apart so the music could find its way more easily into my sex.

Then it happened. The song ended, the sax player lowered his gleaming brass instrument and looked around his wildly applauding audience. His dark eyes lit on me.

We stared at each other for a moment, and all seemed to go quiet. He raised a smoothly curved eyebrow at me in question. The very corners of my dark red mouth curved ever so slightly in response. I felt galvanized, powerful, as if I had willed him to notice me. His own mouth, full and wet from the sax, smiled back at me. A devilish glint gleamed deep within his eyes. His gaze flicked over me, measuring and judging every inch of my body. I was suddenly vindicated by my choice of body-forming turtleneck. I could actually feel the weight of his stare flicking over my breasts; my nipples hardened and became clearly outlined by the thin cotton. His eyes narrowed with appreciation and his smile took on an air of danger. He suddenly looked hungry to me. That primal hunger struck an answering chord within my sex, as surely as if he had played my body tone for tone like his saxophone.

I couldn’t bear the waiting anymore; the temptation was too much to stand. I stood suddenly, murmured some excuse to Samantha, and made my way through the crowd. The sweating throng of closely pressed bodies brushed and tantalized every heightened nerve ending in my over-sexed body. I paused very much against my better senses, rubbing my tingling breasts against the anonymous bodies I squeezed between. A veritable orgy of faceless groping, bodies crushed to bodies, hands possessing anything they could take. I was panting by the time I reached the hall leading to the restrooms and the manager’s office. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, wishing I had been bold enough to step onto that razor edged stage and grab the sax player, as I had wanted to.

A hand suddenly touched my side, squeezed my waist. My eyes flew open. The saxophonist was standing before me just inches away, staring hard at me with his burning, coal black eyes. He lowered his handsome face, brushing my cheek with his.

“The manager’s office is just down the hall,” he murmured against my ear, a deep baritone strumming the nerves along my throat.

I breathed deeply, taking in the heady scent of his aftershave. He smelled like distilled sex to me, pure and crystalline as water. And I was suddenly very thirsty. I nodded ever so slightly at him, my gaze on his mouth. He brushed his full lips against mine, grazed my mouth lightly with his smooth white teeth, making my vision blur. Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and led me down the hall.

He closed the door behind us and switched on the wan light on the desk. I’m a tall woman, but I felt dwarfed by him as he stood between the light and myself. It made a halo of illumination around his big, muscular body, tricking my perception into a fantasy of demons and devils. I suddenly wished very much to be tempted.

He ran a broad finger along my collarbone, sending bolts of lightning through my already sensitive body. I found I wasn’t in the mood for caresses and sensitivity, long drawn out foreplay. The exhilaration of discovering a new body didn’t appeal to me at the moment, much to my surprise. I wanted to take the time to explore his body at my leisure later, but right now I craved for something a little more basic.

I stepped forward and slid my hands up his broad chest to his shoulders. I wrapped a hand around the base of his head and pulled him down to me. My mouth took his, and I felt his surprise. Tongues and teeth were brought into play, a possession of the other’s mouth. He took control quickly, slipping his hands around to cup my ass and drag me hard against him. I felt his cock, long and throbbing against my belly through our clothes. I let go of his shoulder and pulled his shirt from his slacks. He leaned back and drew the smooth silk shirt over his head. I assaulted his belt next, ripping at it in my excitement. He tangled his fingers in the band holding my hair and pulled it free. He took a fistful of my hair and dragged my head back so he could savage my mouth again.

I went blind, sensation aroused by his mouth on mine detonating behind my eyes. I dimly felt him tug upward on my turtleneck even as I loosened his slacks and shoved them down. I slipped my burning hands over his slick, sweat-sheened body, eyes closed, feeling more than I could bear. The close, cigarette laced air, his heavy cinnamon scented breathing against my face, the short hairs of his chest brushing my arm as I reached down to cup him where he was hardest. Perception froze then, as my hand made contact. He was immense, hard and throbbing, straining against his silk boxers. Unable to slow the sudden punch of greed to my belly, I dragged the thin fabric over his lean hips. I stepped back, pulling away from his mouth, wanting to see him.

I stepped around the desk into the light, and he turned with me until he was illuminated. It was like viewing a god carved in dark wood. He was no mere sax player to me, but a well-defined sculpture, art to be savoured, a representation of the species. He was MAN, in its finest form. Wide shoulders curved over a broad, firmly muscled chest. Short curling hairs dusted his coffee coloured skin, tapering down to a thin line, an arrow pointing to his beautiful, upthrust cock. He was long and thick, and the heart shaped head gleamed under my scrutiny.

He smiled at my obvious pleasure, and offered a broad hand out to me. I stepped into his embrace, feeling those skilled fingers skimming down my back to catch the ends of my turtleneck. He pulled it from me in a smooth, single motion, and replaced the fabric with his tongue, tasting every inch of me he had exposed. My skin was hot and damp from excitement, and the fragrant air settled along the light hairs to torment me. His magnificent mouth mapped my shoulders, burning my flesh with his heat. A lightning storm was building under my flesh, bolts dancing from nerve to nerve whenever his teeth nipped me. I wanted badly to share that with him, so I placed my palms on his smooth dark flesh. That alone made the lava pool in my belly, the mere tactile sensation of such fabulous bone and muscle under my hands. I pricked him again and again with my nails, making him laugh low against my flesh.

He covered my breasts with his hands. Rough, calloused fingers catching on the navy satin, rasping along the lace edge. I arched my back, pushing my breasts harder against his hands. He squeezed and molded them in answer, thumbs scraping my nipples through the satin. I unhooked my bra in back just as he lowered his mouth to taste. He held the bra in place over the soft, heavy globes, flicking his tongue along the edge of the lace and lowering the fabric at his leisure.

He still seemed intent on taking his time, and I was starving for him. I wanted to feel all those hard, pulsing inches inside me, his big muscled body above me. I reached down, dragging my nails lightly across the sensitive ridges of his belly, following the arrow line of hair to his proudly jutting cock. I brushed the very tip with my thumbnail, slid my fingers along the burning length. He pulled my bra completely from me as I ran my knuckles down the veined underside of his length. I reached underneath his sac and took his heavy balls in my hands as he sucked my nipples into his hot, wet mouth. I rolled his balls in my palms, squeezing and pricking him with my nails. He bit my nipple in response, drawing a gasp from me. I shivered, grabbing his throbbing cock in reflex to keep my world from spinning.

My belt went next, my impatience spurring him to action. He dragged my slacks down with little ceremony, and slid his hands into the seat of my sheer panties, cupping my ass and pulling me against his hips. The heat of his cock pressing against my belly was incredible. He reached down into the thin scrap of material covering my mound, then slipped his skilled fingers further down. I leaned my head back, giving him a chance to bite and tongue his way along my jaw while his fingers made their own foray along my slit. The tip of one finger parted the folds, dipped inside to run along my core, slick with my cream. He paused just at the edge of my gate, and kept going, feeling his way to the throbbing pearl of my clit. I pulled at his cock, dragging it up and against my smooth belly, asking him without words to hurry.

He pressed his finger against my clit once, and drew his hand out from beneath the satin. He took my panties in his big hands and tore, shredding them from my body in one move. I shivered in delight and turned my face up to his, kissing him hard to show my approval. He covered my mound with one hand, pushing up against my public bone, crushing my trapped clit against my own slick flesh. I moaned into his mouth. He wrapped his free arm around my waist, pulling me down in counterpoint to his other hand. He rocked my body into his palm, slipping his centre finger into my folds and dancing it around my entrance. I rode his hand at his pace, grinding my crotch into his palm. He started dragging me higher, bringing me to my toes to keep the delicious friction. I was panting into his mouth, sliding my hand over his cock in time to the thrusts of my starving body. I whimpered once, just as I was about to come, and he lowered me, pulled his hand away.

I looked at him through glazed eyes, and saw him go down to the floor. He grabbed my hips and nudged my ankles apart with his knees. I felt his breath teasing along my slit. He pressed his mouth against me, pulling me apart with his wide, wet tongue. He flicked it over my creamy flesh, killing me slowly, drawing and mapping the edges of my eager pussy. I grabbed his shoulders as he licked his way up to my clit, and I pressed my crotch more firmly against his mouth. He sucked my pearl once, maddening my over sensitive body, then closed his teeth over it. Lightning crackled behind my closed eyes and I came into his mouth with a cry.

He stood, grinning at me. He grabbed my hips and picked me up, sliding me up his body. I clutched at his shoulders, still shimmering through my first climax. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he dragged me up, that throbbing monster feeling its own way through my wet passage. The rounded head slid easily into my slit, and he rubbed the length of his cock between my thighs. I kissed him again, tasting my cream on his tongue, and he pulled my body back far enough for the head of his cock to enter me. I groaned, trying to hurry him by pulling on his waist with my ankles, but his strength was incredible. He slid slowly up my channel, filling and stretching me deliciously. I moaned into his mouth, pulling against him, wanting it all. He suddenly bucked under me, thrusting upward with all his strength, filling me to my core. I whimpered at the brilliance of the sensation, feeling him in my throat. He cupped my ass in his hands and began to thrust.

I tore my mouth from his and bit along his jaw to his shoulder, maintaining my hold on his shoulders with my nails. I ground my crotch into his every time he was fully sheathed, rubbing my throbbing clit against his curved, burning cock. He bucked and pounded into me, driving me insane, making me want to scream as he tunneled inside me. I tightened my legs around him to shorten his strokes as I neared the end, but the power of his forearms was too great and he thrust hard and fast into my wet heat. I sank my teeth into his full lower lip, wanting him to slow down and make it last, but he was intent on making me take that fast and furious fall. He laughed low in response to my savagery and kissed my hard, pushing his tongue deep within my mouth. I moaned and sucked on him, clutching his cock with my nether lips as I came again.

He slowed, giving me time to recover, then began rocking into me again. Still tingling, I determined that he should be the next to lose control. I slid my arms down his back and clawed at his muscular cheeks. He groaned softly into my mouth and bucked harder against me. I tore my mouth from his and leaned my head back, looking into his glittering ebony eyes. I grinned at him, feeling the power of his thrusts dragging me back up that jagged cliff again.

“Together,” I whispered against his mouth.

“Together,” he agreed in that rum-on-velvet baritone that vibrated through his chest into mine.

I sank my teeth into his lower lip again. He took a step forward, and pressed me hard into the office door. He held me there, imprisoned by his body. He pounded into me, breathing hard, bring up his hands to squeeze and mold my breasts. He kissed me hard, tunneling into my wet, pulsing flesh. I felt my muscles tightening again, clutching at his cock. He was growing inside me, getting harder, and his balls were drawing up against me when he was fully sheathed. His thrusts became wild, he pistoned determinedly into my welcoming body.

“Now,” he growled against my ear. He slid his hand around and into the crease where our bodies were joined. He massaged my clit roughly, pushing it back into my pubic bone in time with his thrusts. I pressed my face into the muscle of his shoulder, moaning against his flesh while he pumped repeatedly into me. He squeezed my throbbing breasts reflexively, panting into my jumbled hair. I looked down when he cried out and jetted into me, having to see where we were joined, the brilliant contrast of his coffee coloured cock sliding into my creamy, wet folds. The image was more than I could bear, deliciously flaunting years of social taboo. I clutched hard at his back, my climax meeting and melding with his.

He kissed me again, one last kiss beyond any need for kissing. We stayed against the door for a short while, relearning the complex process of breathing properly. He finally gave a shuddering sigh, his cheek pressed into my hair. He took a small step back, letting me lower my legs. He stood still for a moment, while I adjusted my tingling, shaking muscles to bear my weight. He slipped from inside me, leaving me bereft and empty. I shivered, the front of my body gone cold without his heat against me. We dressed in silence, handing each other whichever article of clothing was closest. Finally, he buckled his smooth leather belt while I finger-combed my pale hair back, banding it again. He looked at me with those quiet, intense dark eyes. I sighed then, and reached for the doorknob. His hand met mine, covered it, dwarfing me with his size. A delicious bolt of fiery electricity shot through my body, pooling in my quaking belly. He stepped closer, now just an inch away from me. I tilted my head back to look at him.

“I’m off work in an hour,” he said quietly, a rumble of stones on sand in the stillness.

I smiled, heat filling every inch of my body. “I’ll wait for you,” I replied. He grinned back down at me, and slid his arm around my waist, dragging me against him for a hard kiss, which would have to last us both for another hour at least.

We went back out into the lively noise of chatter and clinks of bottles meeting glasses. He left me at my table with Samantha and went back down to reclaim his meager sliver of stage. I sat contented then, shimmering, as he made love to the audience with the soul-stirring notes from his sax, waiting for it to again be my turn.