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Tell Me A Story, Desdmona
illustration by garv

Drumming Up Lust

By Desdmona

This story contains sexually explicit scenes.

She sat beside a small table as the band played on a low stage in the back of the bar. The heavy rhythm of the music affecting her unconsciously, causing her to move in her seat. The guitar player was tall and skinny with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and the singer was a blonde pretty-boy. She was more intrigued by the drummer and couldn’t help staring at his forearms made strong from the years of wielding his sticks, as he did now. Tattoos peeked out from his shirt on his chest and bicep, and she studied them, wondering what they were. She had no doubt that others watched him as well, for the crowd was large and he was handsome. But his gaze every so often steered her way and, not knowing for sure if he could see her, she smiled. She willed him to see her. His deep brown eyes were fathomless and she would like to look into the darkness from a much closer range. The swaying and gyrating bodies on the dance floor occasionally caught her attention. Perspiration, cologne and natural pheromones wafted to where she sat. It was heady and hot and mixed with music and him. She was filled with want, and he seemed to be the essence of that want.

She waited between each song, hoping he would glance her way. And finally he did. His eyes caught hers. Deep brown met green, suspended in time, and emotions surfaced. Curiosity, desire, need, all reflected in each, mirroring the other. He winked. She knew it was a reflexive action for him from many nights of playing and many admirers such as she. His smile reached her eyes and she felt a genuine tug of connection. And it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, it was a sincere wink. And she hoped.

He played like he played every night, with gusto and love for his music and his art. The power of beating the drums, forming the rhythm, the entire pace left to his whim. It always exhilarated him. The crowd was exceptionally in tune tonight, and their chants and screams spurred him on. He saw her first from the corner of his eye – long dark hair, moving in time with his beat, her voluptuous body swaying. When he looked her way, she smiled. A brilliant smile, infectious in nature and it warmed him.

He glanced her way every chance he got, and each time her attention seemed to be focused completely on him. She was an audience of one. He played for her, not knowing if she was truly watching him or if he had only imagined it. The song ended and he looked at her directly. Her light green eyes captured his imagination, and he thought he would like to see those eyes darkened with passion. As he watched, her eyes never leaving his, her hand reached to her mouth. She slowly traced her lips with her painted nail, and then she gently inserted her index finger into her mouth and began to move it in and out.

He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this erotic motion. No one did, and he quickly looked back at her. She was sucking on her finger, and he felt the stirring in his groin. He sat transfixed, as she slowly removed her finger and traced down the front of her. She reached the first button, undoing it and slipped her entire hand inside her blouse. He was glued to the sight of her aroused nipples visible through transparent fabric. She touched each erect bud.

She had no idea what had come over her. Her hand was inside her blouse as he watched. She only knew she wanted to capture him, make him see her sensuality, and make him become part of it. She made lazy circles around her breast, encircling the areola and gently kneading her tender flesh. The feeling of wantonness allowed her to forget the crowd around her. She liked the look of surprise on his face, and felt sheer delight from putting it there. The power from his attention nudged her to continue. She removed her hand and let it travel down the front of her, caressing her skin through her clothing as she did. She reached her thigh and ran her hands along the tops. And then, slowly, opened her legs. She smiled to herself at her forethought while dressing that night.

He sat trying to gain control of his burgeoning arousal as he let every movement she made wash over him. The movements of a seductress, innocent yet knowing. As he continued to watch, her legs parted, his eyes bulged, and his mouth went dry. His gasp was audible. There she sat, yards away, visibly wearing no panties. Her luscious mound was covered with dark soft curls, and the glistening of moisture was evident. His own body responded immediately – he felt the hardening and the familiar ache for release. He was astonished at how such an innocent-looking woman could be so bold. The contrast aroused him further.

As he watched, her legs began to open and close slowly, rhythmically, and with each new glimpse the wetness spread until she appeared saturated. His hand went to his lap to cover his apparent bulge and to just have the feel of touch against his swelling cock. He felt primal and knew his restraint was waning, but couldn’t think of his options.

She stood and whispered words not audible but visible, “Come with me.”

He nearly jumped from his seat, his adrenaline bursting, knowing his time was short before needing to return to the crowd. At that moment he didn’t care. He wanted what she had to offer, and his animalistic need to have it superceded anything the audience might need or give.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Where had this boldness come from? She didn’t know nor did she care. She sensed his eagerness and knew her own body was alive. Her nipples ached. Her clitoris tingled. Her palms were moist and her face flushed. She walked slowly to the corridor, innately knowing he followed her. She came to an alcove and stepped into it. The stone walls were damp and cold to touch. A coffin-like hole waiting to see life again. The muted sounds of taped music and a restless crowd echoed in the background.

The heat of his body close to hers was the first signal that he was there. She turned and looked at him. They stood face to face looking at each other and breathing; His breath was rough and loud, and hers was nearly absent. He licked his lips.

She refused to think and just let feeling command her. Taking his hand, she guided it to the wetness he had recently gazed upon. The heat surrounded both their hands. Hot, viscous, heat. She reached for his zipper.

His body screamed with need as he felt the slow decent of metal against his shaft. With deliberate yet tantalizing slowness, her hand reached inside his pants and began to fondle. Deftly, she released him from his cumbersome pants. His pulse quickened. He heard her breath, felt the warmth of it on his exposed skin and knew she was as eager as he. He pulled her leg up and placed it around his hip as his body pinned her to the wall. Her hand reached and guided him to her sticky cunt. He was overcome by the sheer tightness, and her willingness. He stopped initially to adjust and to prevent the inevitable from happening too quickly. But she was ready, and her body began the motion his was hungering for. The erotic dance she had begun earlier with her finger took hold, and the rhythm born to man took over.

He looked into darkened eyes; pupils large and black and she returned his gaze, hypnotized by the depth his offered.

The rush of blood whirring in his head took on the tempo of beating drums in a jungle ceremony. Thumps building. Hearts throbbing. Lust pounding. Bodies swaying together harmoniously.

A final thrust as he drove deeply into her, knocking her against the wall. Her moans of pleasure escaped through her feeble attempts to silence herself. Her vagina tightened around his penis, squeezing with each spasm of release. She pulled from him all he had to offer. Extracting the life force. With the explosion, she had also felt the chasm of surrender, and let her body relax against his. He pulled slightly away, breathing coming to normal, watching as she became aware of her actions and her surroundings. A gentle smile crossed his face as the myriad of emotions washed over hers. He kissed her on full lips; reveling in the soft, tender flesh. Then, slowly, he pulled away.

No words were spoken, nor did she want any. Their eyes met. The look of satisfaction was apparent on both their faces, and she whispered, “You should go.”

He settled back into his seat and picked up his sticks. The song began and he looked out over the audience. She was there in her seat. The rhythm of the song and the pounding of drums enveloped them. Defining the moment.

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