pop music

It was too loud and too dark and I had a glass or two too many to care if my skirt was too short or was riding up my ass as you said was so fucking hot last night.

The rhythm had me, you knew it, when you grabbed my hand and turned with me on the floor. Bones meet flesh, and your skin was solid, sculpted, sure, squeezing against me in the dark crowd, bass line driving, driving me home in my buzz, in your deliberate responses to my blatant desire, your questioning eye. “Yes?” I nodded back, and you pushed me roughly through the thick crowd, through the doors and into the night, music still pounding against the bricks in the alley beside, where you ripped down the buttons of my sweater, my bra, my nipple aching as you suck hard and I gasp yes, yes, I touch your pants, I feel your cock fill my hand. Your breath smokes in the cold air you sigh I pull your belt release unzip drop to my knees to take you taste you want you, your hand pushing my head, pulling my hair, my hands yanking my sodden panties down, off. Fuck my mouth, hard, fuck me, lift me, my skirt worked up my hips, heels digging into your back, bricks scratching my back. I kiss your mouth hard, hungry, the whiskey warm on my throat, lingering taste of your cock, your cock now gliding into my slick heat.

One thought on “pop music

  1. mfxp says:

    yowser! (as they say where i grew up.)
    don’t you just love urgent fucking? i do.

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