tagNon-EroticWhat's Her Face

What's Her Face

byYour_Messiah©

We'd just finished a set and the sweat was sliding down the sides of my face, above and under my lip in streams and I wanted to hop in the shower right then and there. I was already a little tipsy, so the music and the screaming from the crowd joined and it all just sounded like a night club. They began to blend, show after show. You can't tell when the crowd is cheering anymore. You can't tell when a girl is screeching or a guy is hollering. It all sounds like one thing; gigging, which I had now come so accustom to.

I laid my guitar against the huge, pumping speaker that was next to me the whole show, reminding me that my hearing wouldn't last long into my age. All the guys went down to get pissed and I trailed along, having already drunk to my limit which is only at a slightly bubbly stage. I don't like getting too fucked to function. However, the past few nights proved different. Often did I wake up in the back of our van, a hangover yanking me to my pillow and flimsy mattress. I didn't remember what'd happened the night before or what city we were in now, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't care.

I sat on the stairs of the stage with a bottle of warm water in my hand, slowly sipping as my eyes scanned the club. Our drummer's uncle owned it and basically gave us the place for a night, letting us play when and what we wanted. As long as we closed at 3am, he didn't care.

It wasn't bad... I guess. The floor was missing tiles; the paint on the brick walls was chipped and stained with other substances I didn't care to analyze. The lights were dim, not only because it was a club, but they didn't work properly. They had a few small, low powered search lights flying everything and flashing lights making every movement give me a headache. The people we degenerate teenagers, mostly underage, rebelling against whatever they thought they didn't want to do. I tried to catch my mates at the bar, but the crowd was far too thick to see through.

I stood up and scanned the crowd as I slowly made my way through. Girls rubbed up on me, guys patted my back like we were long time friends when really I wanted to tell them to never touch me again, but I, of course, wasn't one to start fights. I worked through to the back, away from the speakers where it was less crowded. There were groups of people, huddled together in fear of losing one another and being stranded alone in a dank, dirty warehouse. My eyes bounced over each of them, studying them until they landed on her. They stayed on her, on her gorgeous body.

I smiled when I saw her standing there laughing. Her ebony hair tinted with blue streaks that she'd so obviously applied herself. She held a whole bottle of Jack Daniel's in her right hand while her left hand played with the butterfly buckle on her white studded belt. Her black blouse had only two buttons fastened and her jeans were as low cut as could be without revealing her whole ass. Her thong, though, was in plain view.

I walked over to the crowd and stood behind for a few seconds and suddenly all was silence, everything was dark and I was weightless. The only thing there was the smell of her hair as she tossed it around, the booze making her more anxious than I'm sure she would have liked. I tapped her shoulder and she turned to revealing a perfect face for her perfect body. Her cheek bones were high without making her appear plastic. Her eyes were either blue or green. I couldn't tell and I didn't care. Her lips with plump and rub, shining with her lip-gloss. Her eyebrows were trimmed, a little too much, to look like they could have been drawn on. Maybe they were, I wasn't paying attention.

"Wanna dance?" I asked, shouting at her so she could make me out.

She looked at me for a second. I thought she didn't hear me, so I was about to shout again, but before I could she turned around to hand the bottle to one of her friends and then turned back to me, taking my hand and shouting, "Let's go."

She danced like she'd forgotten why she was alive, like she didn't care or didn't want to care about anything anymore. Her hips rocked and shoulders swung and hands either in the air or on my chest as I moved subtly with her. She moved her arms down and grabbed my hips, pulling me to her and I smiled, staring her in the eye and seeing that they were actually blue. She started to drift down my body, bouncing her ass and swinging her hips as she descended, then slid back up, pulling my crotch towards her again. We grinded and rubbed against each other for what seemed like only seconds, but lasted two and half songs before she turned her body and I took hold of her hips, squeezing them and pressing my crotch against her as she danced away, trying to tease me and succeeding. Her smile wasn't as wide as mine.

She turned again, facing me, staring at me and still thrusting herself towards me. She stopped and then pulled me to her, leaning up and forcing her lips against me. I massaged and squeezed her hips and sides, giving the kiss all I could, forcing my tongue against hers and holding her to me, our bodies still swaying recklessly. Finally, when the song ended, a slower one followed and our lips parted. I could still taste her. I could taste her whiskey on my tongue. It made me chuckle. She was completely fucked.

"Are you with the band?" she asked, panting.

I nodded, not wanted to answer and break the moment as I drunk in her gorgeous curves and hollows, looking her up and down and pausing at her exposed cleavage. I licked my lips and then nodded again, more to myself than to her. I was happy she wasn't grinding against me anymore or she would have noticed my now solid erection.

"Can you take me upstairs?" she requested, her smile impish and innocent, but streaked with so much filth, I couldn't help but get more turned on.

I nodded and took her hand, leading her through the thick crowd of people. I felt her squeezing my hand tightly, afraid of letting go and losing me in the mob. I smiled. She wanted me just as badly as I craved her. I led her to the stairs to the top of the club, the room I assumed the owner "rented" out for an hour or so at a time. There was an old, four-poster bed and a rotted side table next to it. There was a mini fridge that I knew the guys had backed with liquor and when she sat down, I got out a bottle of wine and two paper cups. I sat beside her and poured her a glass, thinking to myself, "Like you really need anything else to drink, honey."

"What's your name?" I asked softly, able to talk at a normal level now the thumping speakers weren't in the same room.

She looked at me, her cup to her lips and then she lowered it, wiping her mouth and panting still, from our rough dancing. "What time is it?" she asked instead of answering.

I chuckled. I'd met her kind before. The kind of girl that felt guilty getting too close. The less you attach to something, the less you'll have to remember. She didn't want to remember tonight. She wanted to forget every second of it as soon as her inevitable hang over passed in the morning. She couldn't have been older than 16 or 17. Her youthful face was marred by the black bags under her eyes. She was clearly not new to the club scene.

"11:45 pm." I replied. I said nothing else. I liked playing this game. If they didn't want to talk, neither did I. It was fun watching them squirm anxiously, waiting for the first move.

But she was different. I couldn't resist. I needed to taste her, to feel her, to smell her and see her, all of her, at every angle she could manage. I ran my hand over her knee, squeezing it gently and running it up her thigh, massaging it tenderly. I watched her relax, her eyes softening before she closed them and sunk into the feeling. She was less nervous when she wasn't going to be asked anymore questions. That's alright, I thought, I didn't bring you up here to talk.

She bit her lip and I felt her desperately trying to lean back. I wasn't going to stop her. I moved my arm up around her to her back and she almost automatically leaned into it, allowing me to lower her. I lay over her, my legs on either side of her waist, using my knees to just slightly keep myself from pressing against her. Her hands ran up my sides and she gazed into my eyes, pulling me in, desperately waiting for me to lower my head to hers. I smiled and closed my eyes, leaning down and forcefully kissing her. She gave me a small gasp and then got into it, obviously back into her comfort zone.

I ran my fingers over her side and them up to stomach, trailing them over her bellybutton and then up to the hem of her shirt. She moaned and pushed herself up against me. While forcing my tongue into her mouth, I started sliding her shirt up, leaving my fingertips pressed to her sweating skin and at the same time I urged her thighs apart so I was lying between them. All this at once confused her and she pulled from my lips, taking a breath, looking down and then returning to my lips after gathering herself. I smiled against her lips and started pressing my crotch against her jeans, so that she gasped.

"Uhhhh.... Wait..." she pleaded, but I ignored her and started and thrusting my hips slowly back and forth. After a few seconds, she started putting herself into it, moving with me and pulling me down to her. I stopped and she groaned, using her hips to urge me on and I knew I'd gotten away with it.

Hurry... please... She was stammering. I could tell she didn't like foreplay. She liked getting the fuck over with and then hopefully never seeing my face. I wondered why she was up here, why she was letting me degrade her. I wondered what made her so sad that she needed a screw to help her forget. Not touching, that was too intimate, too close. She couldn't get that close. Sex wasn't something she looked at as special, touching was. She wasn't different than a lot of shags I'd had...so why did I feel like an asshole?

I groaned when I felt myself throbbing painfully. She wasn't the only one who wanted to get this over with. She groaned louder and pushed on my shoulders, urging me to get off her. I thrust myself against her one more time and then started getting off, realizing she wasn't like that others. She wasn't that brave... But already she was surprising me.

She grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back down, climbing on top of me and straddling me. I moaned and she unbuttoned the last two buttons of her shirt and then took my hand, pulling it up to her breast that was now hiding only behind the material of her bra. It felt amazing. I squeezed it and cupped it and then ran both my hands down to her hips, back to her ass and then to the front where I unzipped her jeans. She lifted herself, pushing them down while her breasts pressed to my chest. I smiled.

She lifted my chest from my chest and then leaned down, running her tongue over me, sucking on my nipple and then kissing up and down my stomach while she unzipped my jeans and pulled them down with my underwear, down to my lower thighs. I was there in front of her, exposed. I watched her reaction. She didn't think twice before grabbing my cock and stroking it furiously. I yelped and thrust my body up, feeling the jolt of pleasure from her little hands. I reached up to her shoulders, grabbing them and pulling her to down me so I could taste her. "Suck it, love," I said. There was something in the way I said "love" that made it the dirtiest name I could have called her.

She didn't look at me, she didn't respond at all. She just started moving down my body and I laid back to relax and enjoy her mouth. I closed my eyes and felt her wet lips slip around the head and suck on it. I groaned deeply, feeling against contraction as she slipped her dripping tongue over the shaft. Her skin wasn't soft like velvet or smooth as silk. It was moist, dripping with her sweat and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I reached down and cupped the back of her head, urging her up and down my cock, groaning and moaning. She continued stroking me while she sucked on me and I knew I wouldn't be able to last as long as I needed to bring her off, too. "Enough... Stop," I said sternly. She did so as if I'd cracked a whip. I didn't like that. I don't like sleeping with girls who listen. I decided speaking wasn't going to work. She'd only disappoint me.

I pulled on her shoulders and moved up, lifted herself and I reached down, holding my cock up until it slipped into her wet, tight pussy. I moaned and she nearly screamed. She slid down half way and I pulled her down the rest, filling her up. She couldn't handle it all. Well, she didn't want to, but she couldn't stop herself. She started riding me, rocking and bouncing frantically. You better come soon, baby, 'cause I sure as hell am not gonna last too long, I thought.

I reached down and started working her clit, rubbing it and fingering it, pressing hard and then just rubbing over the top. This helped a hell of a lot. She started moving faster, more eager to make contact with me. She leaned down and kissed me before I could say anything dirty. She didn't want names. She didn't want stories. I could see it in her eyes that she could lie to herself and tell herself she was my one and only. Like I was the only one who could break a little girls heart, I kept my mouth shut and started fucking up against her.

She bit her lip and squealed. I felt her cunt squeeze my cock and nearly screamed with her, she got so tight. I knew she was coming. Her bouncing grew more desperate, her breathing more frantic and the muscles in her pussy were telling me how much she loved it.

Damn, I didn't think she'd get there that fast. She was a greedy one, for she slowed herself when she exploded around me, but I wasn't finished. I grabbed her hips and started fucking her hard, thrusting up. She realized I wasn't done and started helping me, pushing her self up and down me faster again. "Come one, baby," she chanted, "Come inside me, baby." That was all I needed to shoot my load up into her, making her eyes water.

I collapsed back to the bed and she fell into my arms. I looked over at the side table. There it was. You stupid fucking idiot, I thought. There it is, right fucking there, you stupid shit. I cursed myself to hell as I stared at the unopened condom box on the floor.

"Don't worry, I'm on the pill," she said, reading my eyes and face. I turned back to her, staying silent. Maybe that wasn't all I was worried about.

I urged her to get off me and she did. I felt like shit. Like complete shit. I pulled my jeans up and fastened them. I straightened my hair with my fingers and downed another glass of wine. "Want any?" I asked her. She looked hurt and that made me feel worse. I avoided her eyes after she nodded. I poured her a glass and handed it to her with my head down.

"Need a drive anywhere?" I asked."

"No," she replied bitterly.

I waited a minute and stared at her. She was beautiful. She didn't deserve to get fucked by some stranger who would make her feel even worse about herself. She needed a friend. She didn't someone who could see her for what she was, see her for what I was looking at. I took the band card from my guitar case and tossed it on her lap.

"Call that. Ask for Gabriel if it's not me. I don't have my own phone," I told her.

She smiled and stuffed the card into her pocket. I took her hand and helped her back down to the club. We kissed at the foot of the stairs, with less animalistic force. It was gentle, sweet. Like a soft goodbye. She smiled at me before heading into the crowd, seeping into the swamp of people and out of my sight.

She wasn't going to call... But at least now I could get some sleep.

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