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Concert Fantasies

Memories of the Night Before

By Angelique MichaelsPublished 5 years ago 10 min read
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The music was hard, fast, and aggressive, which suited him perfectly. He, too, was hard, fast, and aggressive, pounding out rhythms that made my blood throb in my veins. I closed my eyes and focused on him, alone, on the feeling, more than the sound, of the kick drum in my chest. A steady pulse I could feel in my body and soon my heart was beating with it.

I opened my eyes and watched him. He was resting, waiting for his turn in the music, and he took this moment to adjust his ear piece and his hair that had fallen in front of his face. He never completely uncovered his face, but now I could see his full lips and long slender neck beneath it. His pale skin was flushed from adrenaline and heat; the stage lights that shown on him were hot, so was the air in the small venue.

I hoped to catch his eye from my place in front of the stage, but he was focused. That’s how he was, focused on creating greatness in everything he put his energy into. I couldn’t help but think of how his lips had tasted—salsa and salt, though I didn’t think all of that was from dinner. He smelled of expensive shampoo, leather, and the natural musk of sweat and pheromones. He had been anticipating our reunion just as much as I had and it had taken everything he had to wait until we were alone.

His performance on the stage was everything and nothing like his performance in the bedroom. He was aggressive behind his kit, his arms and feet working quickly to keep the songs flowing. His aggression in bed had been something different. He had wanted satisfaction for both of us and was intent on getting it, sooner, rather than later.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be near me. He had held me close for hours after we finished. It had simply been too long for either of us to be concerned with finesse.

As I watched him play, abusing his drums like they owed him money, my mind wandered back in time. His salty kisses, his long slender fingers, his long hair against my body. I couldn’t help but think of the night before and hope for an encore tonight.

He had sprung for a private hotel room, away from his band mates. I had barely gotten the door closed when he was pushing me into it from behind. I heard it click as his whole body pressed me into the wood. He reached a hand into the back of my jeans, cupped my ass in his palm and slid two fingers inside me, fingering the inside of my pussy until I moaned a soft response. With his other hand he unfastened my pants and only then did he remove his fingers from inside me.

He pulled my pants to my knees and pushed his fingers back inside, deeper this time, unhindered by the denim and lace that had covered me. He deftly unfastened his own jeans and removed his erection from them. With the hand that had been inside me, he reached around and rubbed the same two, wet fingers against my clit, and with his other hand, pushed his cock deep into my pussy. At his height, he had to bend his knees to penetrate me, but once inside, he straightened them, lifting me onto my toes.

I reached behind both of us and gripped his hips, pulling him into me, urging his thrusts. We stood, leaning against the hotel room door, and he fucked me until I came.

It was only when I realized the song was over and they were moving into a new one, that I also realized I had my hand in the front of my jeans. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, hoping like Hell that they hadn’t. All eyes were on the stage so I reached a little deeper.

My panties were wet, soaked through with the memory of last night and the anticipation of later tonight. They were playing three shows in three nights; he had gotten the room for the whole time they were in town. I touched my clit and found it engorged and pounding with my pulse, with the beat of his kick drum. The sensation of my touch sent shivers through my whole body and I looked around one more time to make sure everyone was still watching the show. Then I worked my arm until I could push my own fingers into my pussy and felt the hot, sticky liquid pour out over them.

I kept my eyes trained on him. Somewhere in my last flashback, he had removed his shirt and his pale chest glistened with sweat under the stage lights. His tattoos shown out to the audience as he raised his arms over his head to encourage us to clap along with him. His hair had fallen backward and I could see the flash in his brown eyes.

He had fucked me, against the hotel room door, until I came. It had only taken a few minutes and I had let go of everything and screamed through my orgasm, with him in my ear, urging me on. Not wanting to stop the momentum, I pushed him away from me, turned to face him and drove him backward toward the single king-sized bed that occupied the center of the room, stripping out of what was left of my clothes as we went. He fell onto it, catching the mattress in the back of his knees. I stripped him from the waist down and he finished the job as he maneuvered himself more securely onto the bed.

I climbed on top of him and touched his throbbing erection to the outer edge of my hot, wet vagina. Gripping it in my hand, I rubbed it against me, circling my pussy then masturbating my clit with the head of it. I moved it back, still gripped firmly in my hand, and pushed the head inside. And left it there as I leaned forward to kiss his mouth. I pressed my tongue into his, tasting him completely, then placed firm, hot kisses along his neck and collarbone. I eased his cock further into me and squeezed my pussy closed over it. He was no more than two inches inside me, begging for more and I teased his neck and lips with my tongue.

When I let go of the grip I had on him, both with my pussy and my hand, I slid over him, hard and fast, thrusting his cock into the top of my sex. I urged his hands to my breasts and rode him hard, fingering my clit to increase the stimulus. At my size, I can only ride a cock for a short time before it is more pain than pleasure and I pulled myself off of him after only a few minutes.

I turned, pulling him up onto his side, and lay down facing him, on my own side. I let him find a comfortable place with his head on the inside of my thigh, and asked him to eat my pussy, before wrapping my lips tightly around the head of his penis. He did as he was told, licking firmly at my clit, reaching in to finger my pussy from behind. His long, slender fingers had no problem finding the soft, spongy, nerve-filled skin inside and when he crooked them into it, I thrust my hips, involuntarily, into his mouth. I covered his cock with my own mouth, reaching between his legs to squeeze his balls as I blew him.

He closed his lips over my clit and sucked, hard, and I moaned, sharply and loudly, into his cock. The vibrations from my vocal chords must have pleased him. He thrust his own hips forward and sucked harder on my clit, making me moan again.

He slipped an arm under my hips and pulled until he was on his back and I was laying on top of him, spread eagle over his face, his cock buried deep in my throat. He reached around with both hands, between my legs, and spread my pussy open with two fingers from each hand, pulling my hips down in the process. He plunged his tongue deep inside and let my walls close around it. Then he reached between us and fingered my clit with both hands.

I had been massaging his balls until then, but I couldn’t control myself anymore. I reached back away from my own face and clawed red gouges into his calves. He bent his knees, bringing his calves closer to me—for the first time ever, I could see the tattoo on his left leg—and rolled his hips down into the bed, forcing me to change the angle of my blowjob, likewise, changing the angle of my own hips over his face. When I adjusted to reach him better, what he was doing to my pussy changed and I came. It was sudden; I still can’t remember ever coming that quickly. I soaked his face in my juices without any anticipation.

He rolled me onto my back, with my head at the foot of the bed, and spread my legs. He pushed my feet back until my knees were bent at a tight angle and leaned over me. Three fingers entered my pussy this time, as he bent to kiss me, to let me taste myself on his lips. He fucked me with his fingers, maybe, I had thought in that moment, and still now, better than any other man had with his penis. I clawed at the bed and his hips and the bed again, arching my back, wishing both that he would never stop fingering me and that he would put his cock in me again.

“I want you to come,” I whispered into his mouth.

“Not yet,” he replied and thrust his cock deep inside me, without any warning.

He pounded against me, his hard penis reaching the top of my pussy and pulling almost completely out every time. He pounded so deep, I thought I could continue blowing him from this angle instead. He pulled one of my legs up over his shoulder, once again, creating the slightest change in the angle of his penetration, but it was just enough to start building me toward another orgasm.

At this angle, my clit was exposed. I batted away his attempt to stimulate it and nodded down, encouraging him to watch me masturbate myself while he was inside me. He slowed his thrusts long enough to let me wet my fingers and pushed deep inside as I started to rub myself. He held himself inside, rolling his hips to move his cock against my pussy walls. I masturbated, with one hand first, then the other. With his dick inside me, I could rub myself with both hands and it wasn’t long before I thrust my head into the mattress and arched my back into the orgasm. I screamed once again, encouraging him to fuck harder and faster to keep it going.

It was probably only seconds, but that third orgasm felt like it lasted forever. I masturbated through it, while he thrusted himself against the spot at the top of my vagina. I could feel the pulse in his cock as it quickened and became stronger, until I thought it was going to burst. I could feel the muscles in his body tense, suddenly, and I knew he was ready to come. I reached between our bodies and gripped his balls, pulling them, firmly, but gently, down away from his cock as he continued to fuck me. He faltered for a half a beat, the new sensation catching him off guard, but then he moaned, deep and loud, the sexiest sound in the world in that moment, and came hard. He pressed his dick deep inside to fill me with it and I used my own hips to fuck him through it, coming a little more myself in the process.

They were moving into their last song of the set when I came. With my hand inside my jeans, hundreds of people surrounding me, I came. And I came hard. I bent my head down, burying my face in the arm I had draped over the front of the stage, and I moaned into it, my voice mixing with the other voices in the room. I couldn’t wait to tell him I had finger blasted myself through most of their set. I was pretty sure that was all it would take to get him hard again.

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About the Creator

Angelique Michaels

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