a maiden's monologue.

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life's a drag.

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mouth fetish (re-post)

An online profile catches my eye, as I peruse potential mates late into the night. "Looking for a sweet girl to spend some time with.  Must have lots of energy, be positive, and have a pretty mouth." 

It drove me wild when my last boyfriend, Derek, used to touch my mouth during sex.  I loved it when he used to kiss my neck, while toying his finger around the rim of my lips.  He always had such a warm, wet, welcoming mouth himself, that would get me similarly wet just thinking about it.  I could almost come from him kissing me deeply, and it goes without saying that I absolutely loved having his cock in my mouth, as well.  I always came hardest when my mouth was full.  

So, it's obvious why the words, "pretty mouth" appealed to me.  That phrase in particular makes me a little wet, because the one saying it is usually thinking about fucking it.  And that to me, is the sexiest.  It's either a bold request by this guy on his online profile, basically admitting that he wants a good cocksucker; or, the guy is so oblivious, naive, or foreign, that it's to be taken at face value.  Or he has a mouth fetish, like me.  I feel that satisfying tingle again between my legs, just thinking about it.

No.  I shouldn't.  I'm supposed to be looking for a potential partner, not another one night stand.  Ever since breaking up with Derek, I've had an unsavoury string of men parade through my bedroom, trying to fill the need, both emotionally and sexually.  Touching my own mouth just isn't the same, and I've been desperate.  Too many nights lately, I've been lying in bed with a vibrator on my clit, and a latex tasting dildo in my mouth.  

But, these fly by night encounters don't exactly quench my appetite.  I need someone constant I can depend on, like Derek, who has similar interests in bed as I do.  And, I need someone that I can trust and feel comfortable with; someone with whom I can feel free enough to divulge my sweetest fantasies, without fear of being judged.  So far, the men I've slept with casually have barely licked the icing of the cake, metaphorically speaking.  What I need requires not only a commitment, but an in depth understanding of my mouth fetish.  It's probably the reason that I held onto Derek for so long, even after I knew in my heart that it was over.  He knew me better than I knew myself; he was always one step ahead of me.  He did things to me that I didn't know I wanted yet, and now I salivate for them.  It takes a lot of will power to give up something that worked so well for so long.  But, it doesn't change how horny I am right now.

I log off the dating website, having worked up quite the hungry need.  It's not that I'm still in love with Derek, let me make that clear.  But, I'm definitely in love with the sex we had.  Just thinking about how he used to devour my lips when we kissed, makes me want to grab my vibrator.  But, looking at the late hour on the clock, I power down the computer, and head to bed.  Like usual, I toss and turn, trying to keep the tasty thoughts out of my head.  A finger tracing the outline of my mouth.  Someone squeezing my cheeks.  Telling me to open up.  But, something's different this time.  It's not the thought of Derek doing this to me, that's keeping me awake.  It's the thought of this new guy; the one from the dating website.  Thomas. 

The next morning, I can't get to my computer fast enough.  I log back in, and scan the rest of his profile.  He looks pretty normal; nothing jumps out at me.  Enjoys trying new foods, he's a professional sommelier at an upscale restaurant, and he's played the French horn since childhood.  All things that require engagement of the lips, I mentally note.  Not to mention that he's fairly attractive, as well.  A clean shaven, angular face with blonde cropped hair.  The body shots show off a toned physique in fairly fashionable clothing.  My eyes drift to his crotch, trying to make out an outline of some kind.  I reread his mission statement: "Looking for a sweet girl to spend some time with.  Must have lots of energy, be positive, and have a pretty mouth." 

Able to have some perspective on it now, I decide to message him back, admitting to myself that I am up for getting laid again, just as much as finding a new partner, and I can't blame the guy for potentially being in the same position.  I start with the cheery, vague greeting, "Hi Thomas!  I'm Liz.  Nice profile.  Interested in learning more about you."  That tingling in between my legs again, at the excitement of potential of communicating with a fellow mouth fetishist.  Or at least, someone with similar interests.  The computer dings.  A response!

"Hello Liz.  Nice to meet you.  I like your picture.  Would you like to grab a drink?"  His forwardness surprises me; usually they chitchat a bit.  But, he likes my picture.  I guess that tells me what he thought of my mouth.  I close my eyes and begin to picture him touching my lips, but the computer dings again, jarring me out of the fantasy.  "I hope you don't think I'm too forward.  I just would rather meet face to face to determine if we have a connection."  Face to face; or mouth to mouth?  He seems a little odd, but I do agree with him, regardless.  It's a waste of time to email back and forth for weeks, when you'll know the moment you see each other if you're really interested.  I'm not looking for a person just to e-correspond with, after all.  

"Sure.  But, I'll choose the place."

We meet downtown, at a cafe.  Actually, the cafe I bring all my online dates to.  It's well lit, populated, and I'm comfortable here.  Plus, it has a decent wine menu and great food, which Thomas mentioned enjoying.  I've only given him an hour; a precaution I now take from past internet mismatches.  It gives you an out, if there isn't an immediate connection.  I see him as soon as I enter, feeling a little shocked that he got there before me.  In any case, he's wearing the light blue shirt he said he would be, and looks delicious.  Clean cut, a little older than the picture on his profile, but with a sharp, attractive jawline.  I stop to put on a little lip gloss.  When I approach, I see how the shirt brings out the soft blue in his eyes, balancing his harder features nicely.  "Thomas?"  

"Liz.  Hi."  He rises, gives me a formal handshake, and gestures for me to sit down.  Throughout initial the chitchat, he seems serious, doesn't really make eye contact, and is rather quiet.  I nervously overtalk.  

"So, you mentioned that you're a sommelier?  You must have a very educated palate."  Everything I say sounds sexual.  "I can't tell the difference between a hundred dollar bottle, or a cheap one.  At least I'm an easy date!  You could feed me just about anything, and I'd be happy!"  He smiles slightly, still averting his eyes.  I go on, embarrassingly.  "And, you play a wind instrument?  I tried the flute when I was young, but I couldn't get the lip position correct.  I would've loved to play, though.  It just amazes me how such pleasurable things come out of someone doing something so odd as pretending to spit or trilling their lips."  I demonstrate, then laugh, feeling myself blush crimson, realizing how I must look.  But, even then, I can't help myself.  "You mentioned being a foodie, too... You should try the pastries here.  The pies are like orgasms on plates!  Not that you would eat an orgasm.  Well, I mean... you do, but..."  

I'm about to conclude that he isn't that into me, when I realize that while he isn't looking into my eyes, he is however, focussed very intently on my mouth.  And, it looks like he likes what he sees.  Now and then, I see the corner of his lips curl up in satisfaction, as he watches.  I babble on, barely coming up for air.

"The other day, I had the key lime pie with whipped topping, and it just melted in my mouth!  I looked in the mirror later, and realized that I had cream all over my chin for most of the afternoon..."

As I become aware that my mouth is being observed so carefully, I make an effort to move my lips and tongue as sensually as possible.  The whole thing is really turning me on, and I cross my legs under the table, pressing them together, satisfyingly.  I also slow down, realizing that he is barely listening to what I'm saying, so I begin to improvise.

"I can't help myself from licking the silky smooth cream cheese off a carrot cupcake.  Can you?  The way it tickles the tastebuds at the tip of your tongue..."

I keep hearing the words pretty mouth in my head, and picturing him getting hard thinking about what he wants to do to mine.  I put on another coat of lip gloss right there in front of him, and I swear I see him straining, virtually vibrating, as if he's trying to hold himself back.  As the hour draws to a close, I tell him that I have another hour or so to spare, if he doesn't have anywhere he has to be.

Back at his place, Thomas fixes me a drink, and we sit on his sofa.  His apartment is impeccably clean, almost unnervingly so, if I weren't so particular about tidiness myself.  Makes me hopeful that he does have a sexual neurosis of some sort.  He serves me a milky looking liquor on ice, and it seems to bring him pleasure to watch me drink it.  It feels like cool, creamy heaven in my mouth.  Again I find him staring, and now in the privacy of his room, I tease, "So, do I have a pretty mouth?”  His eyes dart up to mine, maybe for the first time yet.  

“Yes,” he exhales.  

"For a minute, I didn't think you liked me.  You're not exactly a conversationalist."

"I like you," he interrupts.  Perhaps the most words he's strung together yet.  

"Well, tell me about yourself.  So, I can like you, too."  I think it's his shyness that's making me so bold.  But, I hope that maybe in the comfort of his own home, he'll open up a bit.  “Seriously.  What are you looking for?”

“Just someone to spend some time with."

"Uh, huh.  Someone sweet."  I add, referring to his online profile.

"Right," he blushes.  

"And, do you think that's me?"  He smiles.

"I don't know yet.  It's hard to tell so soon."

"So... Spend some time doing what?  Listening to you play French horn?"

"No, no," he chuckles.  "But, finding someone with similar interests is important."  Did he just say what I think he said?  Similar interests.  He's looking at my lips again, and I swear I can see him salivating.  

"So, Thomas.  Do you consider the mouth an erogenous zone?"  I inquire, suddenly.

"Sorry? I..."  

"I do.  Well, mine is, at least."

"Really?"

"Mm hm.  I love to have it stimulated.  Constantly.  It’s like an obsession.  Chewing gum, playing with my tongue or lips, eating, drinking.  And, other things..."  I giggle flirtatiously, trying to gauge his reaction.  “There’s nothing I like better than having my mouth full.  Whether it be bubblegum, delectable desserts, or a creamy cocktail...”  I raise my glass, and down the rest.  “What do you think?”

“I think... that you’re right.”

“You do?”  

“Yes.  Stimulation of the mouth, or lips... can be very satisfying.”  

“Satisfying.”  Interesting choice of words.  “Please continue.”

“Well, some people like their mouths touched by other people.  Or, they like to... touch other people’s.”

“I see.”  I’m watching his gaze the whole time.  It’s barely left my lips, the whole conversation.  I lick them, slowly and sensually.  “You can touch mine,” I casually reply.  “If you want."  I enunciate every sound.  A tentative smile spreads across his face, almost with a look of relief, or thanks.  I feel myself smile as well, blushing an attractive shade of pink.  My pussy tingles suddenly, and I feel my nipples harden through my blouse.  Still unsure if he is a true fetishist, I wait for him to make a move.  With extreme anticipation.  It seems like minutes tick by as I lick my lips and feel a bead of sweat break my hairline. 

Then, he moves.  He reaches forward, first cradling my face in his hand, then letting his thumb wander toward my lips.  I watch his face, and my breath quickens, seeing how much he enjoys touching me there.  Eyes alight, lips slightly apart himself, he moves his thumb just close enough inside my mouth to gather a bit of moisture, which he spreads over my lower lip.  I relax them, pouting my lips for him, making them as full and soft as I can.  I watch his eyes follow his thumb, which is now hit by my warm, quickening breath.  His other fingers join in, gently moving the flesh of my lips as they pass over them.  Such a small gesture, but one that seems to leave us both craving the full meal.  I readjust on the couch, and realize how wet I am.  I can't take it anymore.  I quickly remove my blouse.  

"Keep going,"  I tell him.  I kneel on the carpet, still wearing my bra and skirt, and he stands over me, the bulge of his cock now near my face.  So close, that I can see it twitch through his pants, straining against the material.  I grasp my hands behind me, in a sign of submission.  

"Can you open your mouth?" he says.  God, yes.  I do so, with my tongue still in my mouth, my lips open in an "o" shape, making sure to look up at him while I do it.  He again uses his thumb to trace the circle of my open mouth, and then, suddenly, completely plunges it inside.  I seal my lips around it, and I let him slowly thrust it in and out of my mouth.  My pussy floods with moisture, and I fight to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head, it's so pleasurable.  Every part of me is engorged and erect.  He extracts his finger, leaving me gasping.  I'm pleased to see that he too, is breathless. 

"Show me your tongue," Thomas says, with a little more confidence.  I obey immediately, sticking it out as far as I can, while having it still look relaxed and soft.  He gives me the tip of his finger, which I enthusiastically encircle with my tongue.  He pulls at my cheeks; gently tugging, one by one, to see how far I can open.  I love being inspected like this, as if he's seeing whether my mouth is up to the task.  I find myself very eager to please; staying still, holding myself this way and that, and doing exactly as he asks of me.  Satisfied, he slowly unbuttons his pants, revealing a massive hard on.  I smile at the thought of taking a cock in my mouth, but feel nervous at the sight of it, because I've never had something that big in my mouth.  I see now, why he wanted to see its capabilities first.  I move to grasp it with my hand, but he tells me not to.  

"Leave your hands behind you."  I do so, leaning forward, and parting my lips to take the head into mouth.  I was right.  This is the biggest cock I've ever had.  I widen my jaw, and take as much as I can.  With his thick cock filling my mouth, almost touching the back of my throat, I feel so perfect and full.  I reach down beneath my skirt, to play with myself, and immediately feel the urge to come.  I start to move my mouth over him, but he puts his hand in my hair to still me.  Instead, he starts to slowly thrust.  

"Look up at me."  In the ecstasy of it, I had closed my eyes.  The pleasure of my eyes meeting his, with my mouth open so wide and so full with his cock, makes him pick up speed.  "Hold it open."  He thrusts longer, so that each time his cock leaves me completely, then comes right back, in a precise, fluid movement, into the waiting, open hole of my mouth.  

"Keep it open. Don't move."  I'm going to come.  Furiously rubbing my clit, I feel myself spasm and release, crying out, while at almost the same time, feel his cock explode hot liquid while at the deepest part of my throat.  I swallow, having my meal at last, collapsing on my elbow beside me, gasping for breath.  He sits down hard, almost falling into the couch. 

I look at Thomas from my place on the floor, and he smiles.  Not a shy or unintentional one like before, that disappears quickly, along with an averted gaze.  But, a full, open expression that I can connect with and read clearly.  I ask with a smirk, "What are you doing next week?"

fun with two gay boys (re-post).

My gay friend and I might hookup.  My gay guy friend, Tim.  I know, I know...

Tim has never been with a woman before, and expressed interest in trying it.  Well, not interest, per se.  I've always been attracted to him.  His lanky, toned frame, high cheekbones, and shimmery blonde hair make me jealous and aroused at the same time.  He flirts with me constantly, and I love the male attention.  Did I mention, his personality is lovely?  Not bitchy or jaded, but open and friendly.  And I, in a not so lovely moment, kind of bullied him into admitting it, while we were drunk.  I cornered him.  After an onslaught of questions, I made him say that if he didn't have to kiss her, touch her breasts, or go down on her, that he imagined he could "get through it".  Having sex with a woman.  Get through it!  Did I mention that the woman he was talking about was Madonna?  Doesn't matter.  My vagina was alight with a devilish idea.  But, I'm not kidding myself.  I'm not expecting any sort of relationship or reciprocal attraction out of him.  I just want him to see that it's not so bad.  That I'm not so bad.  I can be very convincing when I want something.  And I desperately want to be his first.
So, we planned it!  Perhaps out of the desperation of not getting any tail in a while, he said that we could get together tonight, and "see what happens".
"No pressure, though, Emily!"  He reminds me, and I try to cool my jets.  But, it's nearly impossible for me, my desire for him excites me so.
"Haha," I giggle giddily, taunting him.  "We'll see."
"You don't mind if I bring a something?"
"All you need to bring is your hard cock,"  I reply.  He pretends to ignore it.
"What I mean is... I might need a little... support."
"Oh, sure!  I get it," I answer, winking, assuming he means booze.  I wear the sexy dress that he always compliments me on, and put on my lashes like a regular drag queen.  But, when I slide down the hall in my heels and open the door, I suddenly stop, surprised at what I see before me.  Tim, looking cute as ever, with a tight t-shirt and butt hugging jeans; no bottle in hand, but with a thick drink of water standing beside him.  A masculine, older looking man, giving a pleasing contrast to Tim's willowy tallness.  
"Are we having a party?" I ask, having already taken a couple shots to loosen up.  
"I didn't think you'd mind," Tim smiles, already looking to his rugged friend for support.  "This is Thomas," he continues, gesturing to the man that doesn't particularly strike me as gay.  But either does Tim, if that's tells you what my gaydar is like.  This new guy is masculine, attractive, with a striking jawline, and broad chest.  He has a closely cropped haircut like Tim, but in a darker colour, and a shadow of stubble dusts his face.  It's all I need to know before welcoming them both in.  
We drink, quite late into the night, flirting and laughing like old pals, and I'm wondering if Tim brought his friend over so that he wouldn't have to sleep with me.  At one point, I think I may have a better chance with Thomas.  The three of us are sitting on the couch, with me in the middle.  Candlelight casting an attractive shadow, Thomas looks deep into my eyes, as if he's searching for something, and smiles as if he's found it.  I'm feeling warm and squishy, and silently decide that I shouldn't push Tim into anything, no matter how bad I want it.  I feel shameful of how I've been acting lately.  I turn back to Tim, putting my hand on his leg, and smiling at him apologetically.   And well, Thomas may have taken that as some sort of a cue, because he takes my chin in his hand, turns my face back to his, and kisses me on the mouth.
He tastes sweet, of liquor, and his kiss is surprisingly soft, despite the stubble.  A little confused, but sauced enough to go with the flow, I kiss his powerful yet gentle jaw back, opening my mouth slightly to allow his warm tongue to enter.  It does, but only barely, as if too shy to leave its own cave.  I smile at the timidness of it, and give him mine, instead.  In the kiss, I'm feeling loose and loving, and almost forget my fair friend Tim behind me.  I turn to him, to gauge his reaction.  I realize my hand not only hasn't left his leg, but has actually migrated towards his crotch.  
"Oh!" I laugh, removing it, about to say sorry.  I expect him to want to leave, and he stands, but doesn't make a move towards the exit.  "Maybe we should call it a night?" I ask, hoping to at least save our friendship.  He replies with a relaxed smile. 
"I think the night's just beginning."
Whoa.  I get my game face on, leading them towards the bedroom.  Tim's friend Thomas kisses me again, harder this time, with intention behind it.  He begins to lift my dress up over my head.  I see Tim take off his shirt behind Thomas, revealing his toned upper body, but his eyes are on his masculine friend.  He comes up behind Thomas, lifting his shirt off as well.  Muscles flexing beneath a dark mass of chest hair, Thomas drifts down to my breasts, flicking the nipples through my bra with his tongue.  Tim takes off his jeans; I can see his long erection through his boxer briefs, seeming to stand as tall as his frame, then gets started on Thomas' pants.  He reaches around him to undo the fly, kissing his thick neck from behind, in the process.  Seeing the two men stirs something in me.  Perhaps it's the booze talking, but I feel grateful to see them expressing their attraction in front of me, happy and privileged to witness it.  Being a straight woman, I can't begin to count the possible reasons for gay guys not to, but most I hang out with simply don't engage in PDA.  And damn, it's hot.
The thick Thomas continues southerly, kneeling, kissing my pussy over my panties.  I want him, I want his mouth on me, between me; the teasing is driving me wild.  Tim apprehensively approaches, and I want him, most of all.  His smile is lopsided from the booze, and reminds me of the mismatch in their statures when I first saw them standing beside each other on the porch.  He suddenly leans around Thomas, and kisses my neck.  I lean into him, breathing in the scent of his aftershave, savouring the moment of first contact after desiring it for so long.  A moan escapes my mouth, and he laughs nervously into my neck, glancing away.  Thomas below, pulls my panties down, and lets his tongue slither in between my hungry lips.  Not as demure as when he used his tongue on my mouth, his powerful muscle overwhelms me.  My mouth opens in desire, breathing heavily, one hand in Thomas' hair beneath me, and the other holding Tim's face against mine.  Tim reaches around me, softly struggling, then finally unclasping my bra.  It falls to the carpet, and he smiles sheepishly, glancing down, beholding my breasts for the first time.  Beholding any breasts for the first time, I'm assuming.  Thomas saves him the task, by reaching up to touch them as he kisses my slickly wetting pussy.  As if any more of me can be stimulated, I boldly reach over for Tim's cock, and grope it through his underwear.  His blue eyes go wide for a second, looking at me surprised, then softly close, allowing himself to feel the pleasure without prejudice.  He takes them off, and I am happy to see his long cock nice and hard.  As I think the thought, Thomas pivots on his knees towards Tim.  He grabs Tim's dick, and works it over in his manly hands.  Tim's hips lean forward, straining for more, but I can't imagine anything stronger than Thomas's grip.  I kneel beside Thomas, and kiss his rugged mouth while he jerks Tim's lengthy cock.  It seems crazy, but I suddenly take Tim's cock in my mouth, right there beside Thomas.  He takes his dick out of his pants as well, and starts moving his hand over it while he's kneeling beside me, watching.  He stands then, removing his pants and boxers, so now I have both in front of me.  What's a girl to do? 
I take one in each hand, Thomas' thicker and shorter than Tim's, and begin jerking them both at once.  I look up at them sexily, as I lick the tip of Thomas' girthy cock now, but they are consumed in their own kiss.  Again, the feeling of awe and gratefulness comes over me as I watch the beautiful, yet stirring kiss.  Thomas's square jaw works itself against the softness of Tim's face, as Tim's delicate hand strokes Thomas's dark stubble.  I switch, watching them, swirling my tongue around Tim's thinner dick.  I go back to Thomas, opening my mouth, taking him quickly in and out a few times.  After, I do the same to Tim's.  My mouth is as wet as my pussy, and doesn't betray me.  As I blow them, I can feel the moisture dripping down my lips, and it encourages me to see their kisses intensify as I do it, brows furrowing, moaning deeply and wildly into each others' mouths.  I take more time with each of them, giving them a proper sucking, almost as if the other isn't there.  Like I would with a straight partner.  I grip the base of each in turn, tightly with my hand, bobbing my mouth on the tip, allowing the drool to coat my fist, moistening the hand job.  I guide their hand to their own cocks when I do this to the other, so no one is wanting.
Thomas bends to lift me up off my knees, encouraging me to sit on the edge of the bed.  He lustily kisses me on the mouth, perhaps enjoying the thought of tasting the both of their cocks on me.  He lays me back, his thick cock dangling in front of me, teasing the opening of my pussy, but I want Tim to do it first.  Thomas takes the cue, perhaps aware of my longing for his friend, and includes Tim in another passionate kiss, subtly leading his cock toward me.  Thomas guides the tip in, ever so slightly, so that he won't fumble with it, and nonchalantly bends to kiss my breasts, keeping an eye on Tim, as of making sure he follows through with it.  I close mine, not wanting to pressure Tim, or make him feel self conscious.  I enjoy Thomas on my tits, arching my back towards him and moaning, love the feeling of Tim's cock right about to go in.  It's driving me wild having him there.  Rather, almost there.  My hips naturally tilt upwards, trying to thrust towards him, but his cock remains elusive, dancing nervously over my slick opening.  The anticipation is nearly driving me into a frenzy, feeling myself bear down already, just with the thought of having him inside me.  And then, he lets me have it.
Slowly at first, perhaps a little unsure of how I'd like it to be done, but soon the pleasure of my pussy overwhelms him, and he starts to fuck at his own pace.  I don't want to disturb his concentration so I bite my lip, only grabbing onto his hips, encouraging him to keep going.  Ever time I moan, Thomas muffles it by kissing me on the mouth, but soon he gets a better idea.  Thomas kneels beside my head, and positions his fat cock above me.  I part my lips and take him in, holding him there, continuing to moan unsuccessfully with my mouth full, as Tim continues to fuck me.  My lips naturally move up and down his thick cock, with each of Tim's thrusts.  Thomas grabs my tits again, and I blow his cock in between gasps of ecstasy from what's happening to my pussy.  Tim thrust's have become more confident, rebounding off of me in a steady, intoxicating rhythm.  His long cock fucks me deeply, unknowingly tugging on my g-spot, and I imagine it's the wettest, loveliest thing he's ever had his cock in.  It's this thought that makes me come, suddenly and aggressively, removing Thomas' cock from my mouth to cry out.  I buckle forward, holding Thomas' thick dick tightly in my grip. every muscle seeming to contract at once. 
"Should I stop?"  Tim asks, unsure of the etiquette.  
"Fuck, no!"  I reply loosely, laughing.  He resumes fucking me for a minute or so, me gasping on the end of it, before not knowing any better, and pulling out to come on my stomach.  If he would have asked, I would have told him I was on the pill.  
Then, something amazing happens.  As I stand to wipe myself, Tim uses his lengthy limbs to crawl towards Thomas on the bed, forcing him to lie back.  Thomas' broad chest heaves, his large cock standing straight up and pulsating with every breath.  Tim rests on his elbows, and licks his fair lips in preparation.  He takes Thomas' cock easily, and I realize that Tim must have no gag reflex.  I can only fantasize how it feels to Thomas, and wish that I could experience Tim's incredible mouth on me like that.  He takes him to the hilt, his lips brushing Thomas' pelvis every time he does it.  Thomas' masculine hands grip the sheets, his large chest lifting off the mattress, straining forward.  My mouth drops, both in awe of the spectacle and in an increased effort to take the fleeting, sacred moment in.  I not only desire to know their sex, but the unnamable and unequivocal connection felt between the two men.  

Every muscle seems to flex as Thomas comes; from his gritted jaw to Tim's tight, flexing thighs.  

God, how I wish I was a gay man.  

my two partners (part five).

Emily 

Luckily, the tank is still pretty full.  I get out, and climb the stairs to mine and Kyle’s apartment.  “Hey,” he greets me.
“Hey!”  I answer excitedly, taking off my jacket.  His boyfriend Luke comes into view, and my face momentarily drops.  But, I politely recover, greeting him as well.  I like Luke, don’t get me wrong; I was just hoping for a one-on-one hangout with my brother.  Perhaps, to talk about my lunch with Scott.  We chitchat for a while, then I retreat to my bedroom.  I have to plan my night.
I take out two free weekly newspapers, and scan the events sections.  The band name “Folly” jumps out at me, and I suddenly remember that Johnny invited me to the show tonight.  Not that I would go to see him, in particular, but my mind does wander to Jeremy.  Done.  The Cave at nine o’clock.  I haven’t heard of the headliner, but all the reason to go check it out.  Meet new people, be exposed to new music.  It’s a crap venue, but it’s important to see those, too, to brainstorm about what can be done better, to improve shows.  I consider the time I’m still living with my parents an opportunity to take advantage of completely immersing myself in the scene.  I see a show almost every night.  I want to know everyone, I want everyone to know me.  If only I got paid for doing it.

I enter the dive known as “The Cave”, a dark, basement venue with coloured lights forever hung from its ceiling.  I have to squint to make out faces, the room being lit almost solely from candlelight.  Eventually, my eyes adjust, and I make out the figures of Johnny and Jeremy.  Johnny sees me too, and rushes over, giving me a longer than usual hug.  It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but I’m just eager to see the bands.  He has to get ready for his set, anyway, so I make my way up to the front of the stage.  
Before I have a chance to get there, I hear the house music lower, watch the lights suddenly dim, make out the silhouettes climbing through the darkness.  The familiar surge of excitement runs up my back, giving me goosebumps.  This is better than any booze, drugs, or sex.  The bass line of one of Folly’s new tracks starts up for a couple bars while the crowd turns silent and attentive, followed by the subtle drum beat, then the rhythm guitar.  The crowd cheers, recognizing the song, and the stage lights suddenly rise, revealing Folly, in all it’s glory.  One day, that will be me.  I’ll be a part of this.  I’ll design the lighting, run the show from the wings, or be one of the rockstars, closing their eyes in grooving concentration.  Or, even better, I’ll be the producer.  I’ll be the brains behind this whole incredible thing, raking in the dough.
Folly plays a short set, as the show started late, and they probably want the headliner on by ten o’clock.  I’m so eager to hear them, I don’t dare leave my spot at the rim of the stage.  I look over to see if Johnny’s around, so I can signal to him.  I manage to make eye contact, and give him a thumbs up.  He smiles broadly, and nods.  They really found the pocket in their set; I don’t think I’ve seen them play so well.  I’m glad I got to see Johnny really nail it.
Then, the lights dim again, and my goosebumps come back.  It’s even better, when you don’t know them.  I don’t even know the genre, let alone the members of the band, or their songs.  I always enjoy a show more, if it’s the first time I’m hearing the music.  If I already know the tracks, I’m too concentrated on singing along, or duplicating the riffs in my head.  The only time you get the same feeling I’m talking about when watching a band you’re familiar with, is when they go off from the recorded version slightly, or come up with a totally different live version of a song.  You always notice the newness.  
The front man uniquely starts with a bit of patter, briefly and charismatically talking to the audience about themselves, and the music they’re going to play.  Apparently they’re from out of town, which is why I’ve never heard of them, and why he’s made the decision to open like this.  It’s a good choice, because he’s developing a personal connection with you, right from the beginning.  Even before you’ve heard them, you feel like you know the front man and the band that stands behind him, yet you still have the new experience of the music.  Both of both worlds.  He’s done this before.  And, he’s not so bad on the eyes, either.  
After the encore, I finally make my way to the bar, feeling sweaty, a little dizzy, yet elated.  I chug a glass of water, and Johnny comes up behind me, yelling through the din.  
“Great, aren’t they?”
“So, good,” I agree.
“Thanks for coming!”
“No problem!  Glad I did!”
“What are you doing after?”
“Uh, I might hang around a bit!”
“Ok, cool!”
“Yeah!”  I nod, smiling.  He makes a gesture with his thumb, retreating back to his band, but I’m already looking for that confident, charming front man.  He’s got a good foot on most people, so he’s easy to spot.  I don’t have such an easy time, fighting my way through the mass of patrons to get to him.  He’s engaged in a conversation with some of his band mates, but happily turns to greet me, him being in a foreign space, and all.
“Hi!”  I shout.  He bends down to speak into my ear.
“Hey, there!  How’s it going?”
“Good!  Great set!  I’m a friend of Jer’s!”  I figure I’d say him over Johnny.  Might increase my odds.
“Cool!  Thanks!”
“I’m Emily!”
“Where are my manners?  I’m too used to hanging out with these lumps!  I’m Gregory!”
“Nice to meet you!”  I smell a mixture of his cologne and sweat as he leans into me, his unshaven face almost grazing my ear.  I see now that he’s quite a bit older; his skin looks weathered and tough, perhaps from too much sun.  With that thought, I add, “I’m studying for my PhD in music!”
“You are?  Oh man, you’ve definitely got me in the smarts department, then!”
“I doubt it!  I prefer scenes like this, actually!  Over lecture halls!”
“So, just enjoying some research in the field, are you then?”
“Yeah!  You could say that!”
“Do you want to step in another room?  I feel like there’s a lot you could teach me!  But, we won’t accomplish anything in this noisy hole in the wall!”
“Sure!”  Gregory speaks into his friend’s ear, then turns to me, gesturing for me to follow him.  I smile at the other members of the band as I pass in front of them.  Two smiles back, but one raise his eyebrows, and rolls his eyes.  I try not to let it bother me.  I don’t know why some people judge others so harshly, before even knowing them.
Gregory leads me down the hall, to the small, humid dressing room.  The make up lights are on, casting an attractive glow on the littered cans and beer bottles.  He shuts the door behind us, but my ears continue to ring.  “Much better,” I remark, trying to get my ears to pop.
“Loud, isn’t it?”
“With how many shows I see, I swear I’m going to lose my hearing before I’m thirty!”
“What do you need to hear for?  When you’re a music professor or whatever.  Right?”  He jokes.
“Yeah!  Exactly.  You only live once.”
“You only live once,” he mimics, clinking his beer bottle with my empty water glass.  He takes a swig.  I’m jealous of the liquid.
“So!  Do you want to fool around?”  I ask, shrugging cutely.  He pauses, amused and shocked at my proposition.  When he can find the words, he replies, grinning.
“Yeah.  For sure.”  He leans down to me, kissing me already with an open mouth.  His stubble scratches my face, as he aggressively gives me his tongue, tasting of beer and cigarettes.  I blindly back myself up against the counter, hoping to get on an even plane with him, reaching behind me with a free hand.  I let my jaw relax and take him, his rough movements against my softness.  I shimmy up, so that I’m sitting on the edge on the counter, wrapping my legs around his lean hips.  He presses his pelvis against me, shifting my butt back against the mirror, hands on the counter beside me.  I hear some beer cans hit the floor, and I moan in excited response.
He gropes my tits through my shirt, and I feel my nipples get hard in his hand.  He squeezes them, and my back against the mirror, I take his rough grip without any leeway.  I reach for his package, feeling him over his jeans, and I rub it just as viciously.
“Are you okay not to come for a bit?”
“Yeah.”
“You can handle it?”
“Yeah, baby.”  
“I’ll suck you off, after.”  We kiss again, and I hear his belt jingle as he unbuckles it; I pull my tights down over my hips in anticipation.  He continues to penetrate me with his tongue, I open my mouth widely, seductively, already thinking of the blowjob, as I feel him shimmy his pants down.  I massage myself, preparing, but I’m already sitting in a wet spot.
He leans into me, guiding his cock towards me, and slips in.  We moan in unison; singing into each others’ mouths like that Talking Heads song.  He puts his weight into his hands now, face beside mine, breathing heavily, crashing into me rhythmically.  I moan each time, keeping the beat.  I reach down to my clit, and begin vibrating my hand over it.  He backs up to give me room, kissing me all the way.  I nod for him to keep fucking me, and I feel myself bearing down over his cock.  I furiously massage myself, and suddenly feel myself push and relax at the same time, coming as loudly and expressively as I feel like.  No one could hear us if they wanted to.
I smile, mouth still open and breathing, as he backs off, pulling out.  I see his glistening dick in his hand, and hop off the counter to reciprocate the favour.  He leans against the same counter, and I turn and kneel on the dirty carpet.  I lick my lips, and take his dick into my mouth, which is coated in my own juices.  It allows me to easily slide my mouth over him, even though I am pretty severed dehydrated.  I hear the house music bang muffled through the door, and I coordinate my movements.  I grip the base of his cock tightly, working my fist up and down with my lips.  I freely drool, lubricating my hand and his shaft, as I jerk him with the bass drum.  Most people like consistency, so it almost works like a metronome for my movements.  My steady work pays off, as he convulses, and I feel him shoot, hot and salty, into my mouth.  Not exactly the glass of water I was hoping for, but it does the trick.
“Wow, baby.  What was your name again?”
“Emily,” I reply, standing, wiping the dirt off my knees, and pulling up my tights.  

I want everyone to know my name.       

                                

my two partners (part three).

Emily

“Hey, I’ve got to get home to my girlfriend, but... would you want to grab lunch sometime?”
“Sure!  I’d like to pick your brain.  If that’s okay with you.”
“Cool.  Find me on Facebook?”

I easily do, by searching a couple of the bands I’ve seen Scott play in.  I send him a friend request immediately from my phone.  What a cool potential contact for all things musical.  I smile to myself.  He’s good looking, too.  I wonder what his girlfriend looks like.
I turn back towards the bar, eager to socialize, having to paw my way through the crowd of people to get to it.  Mainly, because most are quite a bit taller than I am.  I don’t drink much, but at least there’s space over there.  I swipe the stubborn curl of hair away from my eyes, keeping them peeled for people I know.  The good thing about coming out to shows alone, is that you don’t necessarily have to leave that way.  
I see a group of musicians my age, some of whom I recognize from the band, Folly.  “Hey, Johnny!”  I call out, through the noise.  His eyes light up when he sees me.  He’s short, with a small frame, but has a cute face.  And is super nice.  Actually, he reminds me of a nicer version of an old boyfriend of mine, so I feel comfortable around him.  
“Hey, Emily!  How’s it going?”
“Good!  Good.  Keeping busy.  You?  Hey, Jer.”  I turn from Johnny up to Jeremy, the older, tall, super hot guitarist.  His dark, tousled hair falls attractively over one of his eyes.    
“Hey,” he only responds.
“Like the show?”  Johnny continues.
“Yeah!  I’ve seen some of the musicians before.  The new stuff was good, though!”
“Totally.  We have some new stuff in the works, too.”
“Yeah?  Any gigs coming up?”  Another guy from the band notices me and waves, but doesn’t come over.  I think his name is Alex.  
“This Friday we have one at The Cave,” he suggests.
“Cool!  Maybe I’ll stop by!”
“Great!  It should be really good.  The headliner is amazing!”
“Awesome!”  I move my lips closer to his ear so that he can hear me better.  Also, for other reasons.  “What are you guys doing after?”
“Friday?”
“No, tonight!”
“Oh!  Just hanging here, I think.”
“I think my brother has some people over.  You guys can come over, if you want.  I’m leaving soon.”
“Oh.  Okay!”  He leans over to Jeremy, shouting in his ear.  Jeremy shakes his head, gesturing with his thumb a couple times.  Darn.  The other guys can’t seem to hear him, or are pretending not to.  “Looks like the guys are in for an early night.  But, I’ll come!”
“Yeah?”
“For sure!”
“Okay, great.  I brought my parent’s car.”

I park in the driveway, noticing that the gas is almost on empty.  Crap.  I can use the car most nights, as long as I don’t do exactly what I just did.  Oops.  Oh, well.  Nothing I can do about it right now.  
I lead Johnny towards the separate entrance, up to mine and my brother’s apartment.  It’s technically still in my parent’s house, but feels like a completely stand alone, two bedroom apartment.  And, a nice one at that.  A couple stragglers from a get together of Kyle’s are still there, playing foozeball.  I introduce Johnny to my brother, and we snack on some chips, while chatting to him.  Kyle’s a great brother.  Never gives me a hassel about anything.  I crash the foozeball game for a few points, but Johnny doesn’t seem to want to play.  I don’t think sports are his thing.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure!”  I lead him towards my bedroom, giving him a brief tour.  I show him band posters of shows I’ve worked on; I’m even in one of them, as a model.  “Cool!”  He replies.  “You look great.  Not that you don’t always look great.”    
“Uhh... thanks?”  I joke, and he laughs.  
“I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not.  You’re adorable.”  And, for a moment, I see that he is.  I shut the door quietly, and walk back over to him.  I put my arms on his shoulders, resting there, almost directly across from where I stand.  I smile, and lean in for a kiss.  He reciprocates immediately, opening his mouth around mine.  His mouth is smaller than mine, I think.  I’ve never kissed a smaller mouth, other than Tanya’s.  His face is soft like hers, too, and I wonder if he could grow a beard if he tried.  
He backs me towards the bed, and I slowly reach back for it, bringing him down with me.  He mustn’t weight more than ninety pounds, so I recklessly pull his small frame on top of me.  I groan, kissing him on the mouth, and pressing my pelvis into his.  My pussy already feels like a waterfall; my partners always comment on it.  Maybe it’s part of why I get off so easily.  In which case, I thank whoever’s up there for my wet pussy.  
I press my small tits into him as well; I’m not wearing a bra, so I feel my nipples already hardening underneath the thin material of my blouse.  I wrap my legs around his hips, and I feel his erection through our clothes as well.  My pussy floods, and I reach down to take off my pants, so that I don’t get them wet.  My panties are already soaking through, so I peel them off, too.  I pull the back of his shirt up, and he helps me lift it over his head.  His torso is small, but attractively lean, and I hope for the best as I unbuckle his belt.  I move beside him now, as I pull it out; and think, not bad for a smaller guy!  Maybe seven inches, with a decent girth, and a clean look.  He feels my loose tits through my billowy blouse, as I get on my knees in front of him, starting to tease the tip with my tongue.  
I taste the salt of his day on him, as I liberally flick the tip with my wide, soft tongue.  I feel a drip of saliva fall from it already, and picture the same happening to the moisture from my bush.  I don’t dare touch myself yet, for I want to save it for when I get on top.  I run my wet tongue over the creases of his head, even making the very tip of my tongue hard and pointy, and trying to get inside the little hole.  He moans the entire time, making it impossible to tell what exact movements he really likes, but I don’t think that I’ll need to much nuance, or that he’ll have much trouble coming.  Something tells me he doesn’t get to fuck terribly often.  I remove my blouse, because things are about to get very messy.  
I take the earthy tasting thing completely in my wet mouth, gripping the base tightly in my fist as I do so.  Fellating a guy only makes me all the wetter, and on cue, I begin to feel myself moisten the sheets.  Similarly, I move my drooling lips up and down the shaft, moisture dripping from them, all over my gripping hand and his lap, making the blowjob a satisfyingly slurpy mess.  Just before he buckles down too hard, I reach to my wallet for a condom.  I rip it open with my teeth, sheath his erection, and continue taking him into my mouth for another brief round.  The taste of the condom has a bizarre effect on me, making me wish I was surrounded by it.  Completely covered in latex, with only a hole beneath me, exposing my dark bush.  With that thought, I climb on top, a knee on either side of him.
He slides in almost too easily, and I immediately begin to work myself over his nicely sized dick.  In an ideal environment, I’d be crying out, but I’ve trained myself to come in almost complete silence.  When I hit a good rhythm, bouncing over him seamlessly, and from the exact angle, I only have to flick my clit for a second before the first one comes.  Yes!  I slow down for a moment, grinding my hips into his, letting my weight fall on top of his full, impressive length.  He moans, but I put a hand over his mouth to stifle it.  
“Don’t come yet,” I add, hopefully.  He nods, but I don’t know how much longer he can hang on.  Some guys can’t keep it hard enough for me to come, let alone maintaining it over a longer enough period of time before coming themselves.  I peg him as an early ejaculator, so I cut right to the finale. 
I get on my feet in a squatting position, centering my weight, so that I only need my hands to adjust my balance.  I start moving over it, and with his cock rubbing my g-spot now, I furiously massage my clit.  Oh, god.  Right there.  Here it comes.  I push, muscles contracting all at once, letting forth a gusher that probably shocks poor Johnny.  My eyes are closed in concentration, so I can only assume.  His cock stays there, allowing me to continue to work myself over it, resulting in the orgasm the gusher is leading up to.  I bite my tongue, groaning desperately through a clenched jaw, then open my eyes to absolute mayhem.  Everything is wet.  The sheets, Johnny’s bare chest, even some of his hair.  Thank whoever’s up there his clothes were on the floor.
His mouth doesn’t close the whole time, as I rip the wet sheets off the bed, and toss them in the corner.  I throw him a towel.

“So, how about that movie?”