Playing Musician

"Remove the rest of your dress," he told her, and she was thankful for that with her arms growing tired in their place above her head, "and turn around."

The dress fell to the floor as she turned, compliant. His eyes were instantly back on her breasts and she could feel herself blushing, which was something she almost never did. She was feeling so unusual, so vulnerable, so malleable, she could hardly believe it.

His eyes rose and met her gaze, dark blue meeting bright, and she saw him grin. He spoke once more. "Your turn," he said. "Show me something I haven't seen."

Brigitte felt the smile flutter over her face. There was still no doubt as to who was in control, but he was allowing her the opportunity to pleasure him, and she would not disappoint. She would have him remember her above all his other many conquests, above all other lovers.

She looked upon him contemplatively, then closed the distance between them, her breasts brushing lightly against him as she reached up and plucked the sunglasses from where they were nestled in the hair on top of his head. His eyes were hard upon her as she took hold of his shirt and slipped it up and off his body, which was lean and not too muscular, but well-defined. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the skin of his hairless chest, even as her hands deftly began to unbuckle his belt. She kissed her way down over his navel, lowering to her knees as she did so, and when she finished with the buckle, she drew down the zipper of his faded black jeans to find a pair of snug black boxer briefs beneath.

She glanced up to find him looking down at her intently, smiled sweetly, and got back to the task at hand. Brigitte reached inside the slit in his underwear to collect her prize and wrapped her fingers around the stiff cock of Damien Taylor.TheDamien Taylor! She paused, elated and partly disbelieving, until the cock pulsed insistently in her hand, and she drew it out into the open.

She was about to suck a rock star's cock, she thought . . . and then she did.

Damien sighed as she placed her luscious red lips against the engorged head and kissed it gently, then sighed herself as her peppered kisses down the length of his shaft. When she reached the base she stuck out her tongue and planted it flat against the underside of his penis, and firmly licked her way back up to the tip. Her eyes fluttered shut and she parted her lips, and sucked the mushroom head into her warm, wet mouth.

Brigitte wrapped her soft lips around him and slid downward inch by inch. She stopped halfway down and with more tender licks withdrew once more to the head, then slowly repeated the process with deliberate movements as she stroked and squeezed the base of his cock with her fingers.

Damien's cock passed back and forth between her moist lips as she suckled him, her tongue pressed flat against the underside of the purple head every time it came close to her front teeth. She stopped every so often, her lips clamped tight around his shaft with the head just barely inside, and swirled her tongue around the curved mushroom ridge. This was one of her best techniques, and every time the rock star sighed and shuddered as she applied it.

"Faster," he said huskily, and she increased her speed.

She took him in and out of her mouth at a faster pace, bobbing her head as she stroked at the shaft. Her off-hand dipped lower and massaged his testicles.

"Yes," he groaned, the first show of favor aside from his occasional sighs.

She purred happily, knowing she was giving him pleasure, knowing she was sucking the cock of someone famous. Her nails raked along the wrinkled skin of his scrotum, tickling and teasing his balls, and she suddenly felt the first stirrings of his orgasm. Brigitte braced herself, but Damien Taylor was one step ahead of her.

He gripped the sides of her head without warning on one of her down strokes and embedded his cock deep into her mouth, and before she knew quite what was happening, he exploded. Milky white cum shot from his hole and barreled down her throat, and she nearly gagged as it struck the back of her mouth. Two more loads spurted forth from the source before he pulled out.

His cock was not done, however, and continued to spout sticky fluid point blank in her face, which Brigitte had never allowed to happen before, not ever. Several more streams splashed across her forehead, nose, and chin, and as the semen oozed down her cheeks, large globs of it fell onto the shelf of her breasts.

When he was finished, Damien Taylor slipped wearily back into his seat on the couch. "Clean me," he ordered.

Brigitte could not believe she was covered in cum. It was a definite surprise, to have received such harsh treatment, and it made her feel like a complete and utter whore. Still, liquor, lust, and celebrity worship were potent ingredients, and so she crept forward obediently and licked the semen from his cock, cleaning him off before she cleaned herself off. She could feel his cum trickling down the slope of her breast and over her nipple.

"Clean up," he told her when he was clean himself, "and meet me in the bedroom."

Again, she did as she was told, knowing this was a position she had created for herself as she rose and moved into the bathroom of the master bedroom suite, where she thoroughly washed her face and breasts. When finished, she slipped back into the bedroom and found it empty.

Brigitte slipped off her pumps and panties, which were completely and utterly soaked at this point, and slipped under the sheets. The room was an expensive one and the bed was extremely soft, and the sheets felt fantastic against her skin as she lay on her back, the covering pulled up to her neck as she waited.

She did not wait long.

Damien appeared in the doorway. "Close your eyes, Brigitte," he said.

It was the first time she heard him use her name, and it thrilled her. Damien Taylor called her by name, wanted her, desired her, and she wanted him. She lay back and closed her eyes. There was a long pause, and then she felt something tug at the sheets, slipping them from her body until she was utterly exposed to the cool of the air and the heat of his gaze, which she knew was upon her.

"Touch yourself," he said, the words as soft as the mattress beneath her.

Arousal coursed through her, simply at the sound of his voice. "Touch myself?" she repeated breathlessly, suddenly and once again shy.

"Yes," he told her.

Brigitte lifted a trembling hand and slipped it down between her legs, and ever-so-gently delved into the slick pink folds she found there. With her eyes closed and her imagination swirling, and her fingers strumming the chords of her clitoris, it did not take long for her renewed nervousness to recede once more.

Her fingers kept moving as she picked up her knees so her feet were flat on the bed, while her off-hand slithered up and over her stomach to clutch the firm flesh of her right breast, kneading it, the palm brushing and teasing her nipple as it did so.

"Faster," he ordered, and again she complied. She could do nothing but comply at this point, her will long since submitted, and would comply to every request he made of her this night. She was putty in his hands.

Her breathing quickened in time with the movement between her legs, her hips grinding a slow and rhythmic motion as her fingers stroked the tight entrance to her sex. Her hand vigorously handled her breast, pinching the nipple forcefully between her thumb and forefinger, tugging it upward to vulgar heights.

Brigitte moaned loudly, her mind moving away from the thought of masturbating in front ofDamien Taylorand more towards the act of masturbating itself. She was talented, after all, and it felt incredibly good, and so she was soon focused completely on her fingers, forgetting all others.

She slipped a finger inside her pussy and massaged her clit with her thumb, gasping at the sensation and her bucked her hips upwards. She remained in that arched position as her toes dug into the bed to support herself and her fingers twirled faster over her saturated folds.

Orgasm swiftly approached and her body began to quiver in its early stages. Just a little more, Brigitte knew, and she would be there. Her ears were ringing and her intoxication was really kicking in, and she rubbed furiously at her clitoris.

The first thing she felt was the rough way he spread her thighs. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was shocked to find his large form looming over her. It was so swift and unexpected, she hardly knew what was happening through her self-induced haze of lust and pleasure.

That is, until he mounted her.

* * *

Kayden James was strumming her clitoris with a rabbit vibrator when her cell phone chimed, breaking her out of her reverie. She was naked and covered in a light sheen of perspiration, having been playing with herself now for nearly an hour. It was leisurely at first, hands upon her skin and breasts, haphazard and aimless, but steadily grew more frenzied as her arousal mounted. She did not have a man to play with this night, nor a woman, and so she contented herself with herself, which was perfectly fine with her.

The cell phone moderately annoyed her, however, and she huffed out loud as she glanced at the screen . . . only to smile delightedly and change mood completely when she saw who was calling.

She flipped open the phone and asked playfully, "Finished already?"

"Hardly started," the whispered voice of Josh Redding replied.

She was about to reply when a wave of pleasure crashed over her. She had not removed the rabbit from her pussy and it had struck a wonderful spot. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, but did not very well succeed.

She heard him chuckle on the other end of the line, then say, "Looks like I'm not the only one."

Kayden grinned. "Yea, but you have a partner!"

Another chuckle by Josh, who said, "True, but no one's better than you," and Kayden had to laugh herself, knowing exactly what the expression on his face must be. "By the way," he continued, "you taught me well.A little something about control, remember?" His voice dropped to scarcely above a whisper. "Love you, Kay. Gotta go. Call you later."

"Love ya, squirt," she said for the second time that night, and as she hung up and resumed her self-pleasure efforts in earnest, her mind wandered back to a moment in time some months before, to a stormy night in mid-winter seemingly shaped to be shared in arms of another, and to something she said before the teaching and the fucking began.

* * *

Josh closed the phone and stuffed it back into his jeans, and sighed contentedly.

He contemplated the events of the day, the amazing and extraordinary events of the day, which were capped by an exceptional blowjob from one of the most beautiful and popular girls at his high school, Brigitte Erikson, who was, even now, waiting for him in the bedroom. He was not sure, thinking about it, what was more amazing or more exciting: the blowjob and prospect of further proceedings with the gorgeous blonde or the fact that he was pulling off such an insane impersonation job. Rex Jennings, it seemed, was a genius.

The night with Brigitte had been exceptionally out of character. He rarely controlled the action, letting Kayden run the show, but in words and deeds from almost the beginning of the night, he had been the one in charge. It was easy, he thought with a grin, having already lived through a similar experience; after all, he was just following the script.

That is, the script Kayden provided him several months ago during one of their sex lessons, as she liked to call them. His parents had been out of town and Kayden had spent the night, and it was early when she decided to teach him "a little something about control," as she herself put it. They fucked for hours, but it began with her instructing him how to control a woman at the outset of the night, how to titillate and dominate when the situation placed the possibility of control in his hands.

His night with Brigitte was an almost perfect replica of that night with Kayden, the latter a wonderful blueprint and overwhelming source of confidence for him, and it had served him very well thus far. He expected it would continue to serve him well, once things advanced further.

Josh rose and went to the bedroom, and found the girl already beneath the sheets. A pair of black panties and two shoes were on the floor at the foot of the bed. He saw her raise her head and look at him in the doorway, and readied himself for the next phase, remembering exactly how Kayden had looked, wondering what it would be like to watch Brigitte.

"Close your eyes, Brigitte," he said, using her name for the first time. Her head fell back on the pillow as she did as she was told. Josh wondered what the students would say if they could see her now, submissive and obedient, never objecting, never complaining, which were statements about as far afield as one could expect when discussing Brigitte Erikson.

He moved forward and tugged at the sheets, pulling them from her body. Within moments she was exposed, completely naked as she lay on her back on the bed.

Josh drank in the sight of her, but having seen much of it already, there was one particular place that intrigued him above the rest. He was not disappointed. The blonde swath of trimmed hair set above the hairless and pursed lips of her labia was groomed in the shape of a landing strip, and lovely-looking. He desperately wanted to see more.

"Touch yourself," he said softly.

"Touch myself?" she repeated breathlessly.

"Yes," he said simply, and the eighteen-year-old lifted her hand.

It was a wonderful thing, watching a beautiful woman masturbate; Josh was well-versed on the visuals, having watched Kayden on many occasions. Brigitte, it seemed, was no stranger to self-pleasure either, hesitating only a moment before her fingers burrowed into her folds. Her off-hand also got in on the act, squeezing and jiggling her tits.

"Faster," he ordered, and this time she did not need clarification.

He listened as her breathing quickened and the movement of her body and hands intensified, hips and fingers working together to illicit maximum pleasure. She knew how to touch herself, and he paid attention. She was rough with her breasts, which he would remember, and active at the point of attack, slipping a finger inside even as she furiously tickled her clit. Her back arched up and off the mattress; it was clear she was getting close.

It was time to get ready. This was the one part of the night he would have to handle deftly, and with precision. He stripped off his remaining clothes and hovered by the bed, watching, waiting. When he noticed her limbs quavering every so lightly, the flat of her stomach trembling just barely, he knew she was very close, indeed.

Which meant it was time for him to make his move.

He climbed onto the bed at her feet and slipped between her legs, using his hands to spread her thighs. She gasped breathlessly with surprise and her eyes fluttered open, but she did not resist or speak or work against him in any way. She was primed and he was ready, and in a moment, he knew, Josh Redding would fulfill the fantasy of all men who knew Brigitte Erikson, from the geezers at the party down below to the students of his high school to the broken trail of her past suitors and boyfriends, as well as his own.

He would fuck the girl silly.

* * *

Damien pushed his cock into her saturated pussy with one swift thrusting motion, burying himself to the hilt, filling her to the brim. Brigitte gasped, shocked, thrilled, incredulous, and exultant all at once as she looked up at the celebrity who was fucking her with wide eyes. She had wanted this, arranged for it herself and set all the events in motion, and yet still she could not believe it was actually happening.

She was having sex with Damien Taylor!

"I think you'll like what happens next," the rock star said, and began to move with measured strokes, fucking her slow and deep, taking his time. His palms clutched the cheeks of her bottom, squeezing and playing even as they helped support.

He definitely knew how to use his penis, Brigitte thought as her shock evaporated and the sensation of being fucked, and fucked well, kicked in. It soon overwhelmed everything else and put her firmly back on the track to orgasm, building with an almost excruciating torpor. She began to move her hips in synch with his, bucking up to meet his thrusts with one of her own. They moved as one, by turns slower and faster. Often he would slow down and push deep inside her, and she would arch her back until the top of her head was driven deep into the mattress.

He released his hold on her buttocks and reached instead for her breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing them roughly as he continued to thrust inside her, his power and ferocity growing. Her bountiful breasts jiggled and bounced beneath his hands, and he pinched her nipple with such cruelty she actually cried out loud.

And then he stopped suddenly and pulled out, and in that moment Brigitte knew loss like at no other time in her life, and she whimpered and wiggled her hips, yearning for more. But before she could say anything, his hands were on her waist, forcing her to move.

"Turn," he said huskily, and there was no request in his voice. This was command, pure and simple, and they both knew she would obey. She was his, utterly.

His hands were unforgiving as they flipped her over to her stomach and then yanked her up onto her hands and knees. He gripped her hip with one hand and situated himself behind her, and his other hand guided the tip of his cock to the entrance of her well-fucked pussy.

Brigitte never let her boyfriends fuck her like this; she did not want to be fucked like a dog, considering it degrading and she hated the way they always tried to play with her butt. None of that entered her mind, however, when it was Damien Taylor behind her. She would do whatever he wanted, however he wanted. She whipped her long blonde hair around and looked back at him, her eyes glazed and hooded with lust.

"Please," she begged as she pushed her hips back to meet him, and they were the first words she had spoken since the sex began, "push it in."

The man met her gaze and did not move, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips.

"Fuck me!" Brigitte shrieked, her body on fire.

He smiled and rammed into her with brutal force, and she wailed.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed incoherently as he filled her.

Damien took hold of her hips with both hands and pummeled her from behind. The flesh of her ass rippled and her body quaked as he slammed into her again and again. It was a speed and measure designed for one thing and one thing only: his pleasure. She could feel her face scrunch up as she withstood the assault.

And then, insanely, pleasure assaulted her, too, crashing over her in a wave. She tossed her head back and forth, blonde hair flying, as she pumped her hips back to meet his vicious thrusts. She could believe such sensations existed; no one had ever made her feel this way before.

"Don't stop!" she cried, and he most certainly did not.

He fucked long and hard, pushing her forward a little more with each thrust until her head brushed against the headboard, and she braced herself against it again with one hand. As she reached up, Damien reached under and grasped her breasts with both hands. Brigitte gasped and moaned as his hips slapped up against her tight ass, and loved the way his balls did the same against the swath of her trimmed pubic hair.

Her orgasm, interrupted, delayed, and long rebuilding, was nearly upon her. Her senses heightened with gleeful anticipation as her body began to shudder with the initial stages of climax for the second time . . .