He's Old & RocknRoll & She Likes Him

He leaned toward her. "I've listened to your song demos, many times in fact," he said. "We've emailed back and forth about the song and your thoughts about it. We've Facetimed. I've learned a lot, I think, about how you work musically. I searched you online, you know, I've listened to everything I could find. I think I know who you are--thought I knew--but clearly I'm missing something because the voice I heard today is not the same voice that... that made me want to..."

He sighed again heavily and stood up. "That interested me and made me want to meet you, and work with you," he said. His voice had risen slightly, and he sounded tired.

He stepped toward her and grasped her shoulders gently, dipping his head to try to meet her gaze that was fixed on the ground.

"Please darling, look at me and tell me what happened." His voice was again a low, quiet caress.

She couldn't speak; couldn't look up. She closed her eyes, willing her tears not to fall, and kept her arms folded across her chest. His words, the tone of his voice, the touch of his hands--she stood no chance. He actually sounded concerned. How could he possibly care what she was experiencing? Could he actually care? Was that possible? And if he did, how could she ever begin to tell him all she was feeling?

Then she felt his lips press against her forehead. The warm, soft pressure tilted her face up to his.

Her heart pounded.

"We can't do this...can't finish this, if you don't open up to me," he said quietly, his lips still on her forehead.

She choked back a sob, and a tear burned down her cheek.

His hands moved down from her shoulders and covered her hands. Then he slid his arms around her, and he pulled her to him, his forearms on her bare back. Her shoulders began to shake as he held her. His lips moved slowly to her eyebrow and he kissed her there. Then they moved toward her temple, kissing her there, then soft, quick kisses down her wet cheek, tasting her tears. His soft lips were resting on the corner of her mouth, and his warm hands had moved to her waist.

She gasped, her chest heaving. It was all she could do not to turn her lips to his. She gripped the front of his shirt, and pressed her face into it, into the delicious warmth of him, inhaling the smell of his cologne. She held on, her chest aching. Aching to kiss him. Aching to wrap her arms around his neck and press up against him. Aching to tell this man everything. Aching with fear that this man had already read her like a book and was playing her.

"Look at me darling," he whispered.

Her heart thundered. She swallowed hard and lifted her head up to meet his eyes, her hands still gripping his shirt.

His eyes held hers.

"Tell me." His eyes devastated her. She'd never experienced such an intimate moment with a man. And she was in so deep, there was so much was at stake. His thumb wiped away a tear falling from her eye.

"I want to--I do--I just... I don't.....know how--." She let go of his shirt and pressed the heels of her hands to the corners of her eyes, her breath a series of uneven, little gasps. Her world was turning upside down.

"I do," he said.

He slid his hand behind her neck and he wound a handful of her soft, fine hair in his fist and he gently tugged her head back, exposing her long throat. His mouth fell to her collarbone, his silky tongue hot and wet. Her back arched reflexively, pushing her breasts up into his chest.

His lips trailed back up her throat to her mouth where he hovered, locking his eyes on hers. His grip on her hair tightened and she couldn't move. His other hand moved down the small of her back and pressed her hard against him. She bit her lip and heard herself moan softly.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and her mouth opened in response. He tilted her chin and brought her lips up to meet his in a chaste, soft kiss.

He gripped her hair tighter and spoke against her lips.

"I'm going to really kiss you now, and then you are going to tell me everything I need to know. Are you ready?"

"Yes," she breathed, and swallowed hard.

"Yes what? Say it," he said.

"Yes, I'm ready." Her panties were soaking, and she was trembling. She'd never been so aroused. Or so terrified.

"For what?" he whispered. "Say it, don't look away."

"I'm ready for you to.... really kiss me...and I'm going to tell you everything.... you need to know." She could barely get the words out her breath was coming so fast. Speaking the words out loud was arousing her even more.

"Yes, you will, my darling," he said, and his lips moved to hers. Her mouth opened under his, and she linked her arms up around his neck. His arms went around her, his hands caressing the silky skin of her bare back. She could feel his heart racing.

After a brief moment he set her apart from him abruptly, and his eyes bore into hers. His eyelids were heavy. His gaze fell to her heaving chest, and his eyelids narrowed. He exhaled forcefully.

Her eyebrows arched, and her mouth opened. Before she could say a word he pulled her against him again, hard, his hand in her hair again, his lips on her ear.

"You're not leaving," he whispered, "until I get you and that song of yours recorded--that song that made me fucking hard the first time I heard it, do you hear me? It made me fucking hard. Makes me fucking hard every single time I listen to it. Made me toss off imagining I was making love to you when I listened to it, made me want to play the goddamn song myself, give it all I have."

This voice was thick and low, almost menacing. She felt him trembling. He ground his hardness against her.

"Then I SAW you online, heard you, videos of you playing, singing. Heard your other songs, those covers.... then I knew I couldn't do anything else until I met you and got you recorded, and got you in my bed. Do you understand me? Do you?" His nostrils flared, and he tugged her hair firmly with each question.

"Yes," she breathed, her mouth open, unable to draw a deep breath. "I understand." Her wetness slick now on her inner thighs. Her mind was exploding.

"And I know fucking well you want me too. Don't you?" He pulled his head back and locked his eyes with hers.

"When we finally met in person this morning and I looked into your eyes, I knew it. You could barely breathe in the vocal booth, could you, let alone sing properly because you feel the same way I do, I damn well know you do. You couldn't sing because you were too turned on, weren't you? So fucking turned on, and so fucking afraid of it." His lips had returned to her ear, voice had softened back to a whisper, and his hand slid slowly down to her ass, and he ground his cock against her again.

She cried out softly, her hips turning. Her mind reeled. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him? The thought of him feeling the same way about her, her music, that it affected him sexually... Jesus holy Christ. He knew she wanted him too. And he knew how scared she was. He knew.

"Yes--" she exhaled with a gasp.

He drew back, and his eyes held hers, and a slow sexy smile lifted the corner of his mouth. He tugged on her hair gently, and with the thumb of his other hand her stroked her bottom lip before he caressed her cheek. Then he closed his eyes and brushed his lips feather lightly against hers.

Her heart stopped. She barely stifled a moan. Then he did it again. And again. And again. Her hands reached up around his neck, trying to pull his mouth down hard on hers but he shook his head.

"No," he said, and he took her hands and placed them behind her back. He gripped her wrists in his large hand, holding them still, his fingertips on her firm, round ass. He slid his other hand behind her head and gripped her hair.

He held her gaze.

"I'm going to make love to you, darling. I'm going to make you come so fucking hard, as many times as you can stand. And that's just to start. Are you ready?"

Her mouth opened and her breath rushed out, her pupils so dilated her blue eyes were almost black. She nodded her head.

"Say it for me, darling."

"Yes, I'm ready...for you to make love to me," she swallowed, "and make me come...so hard......at least.... as many times... as I can stand...." she was panting. Her lips slid into a smile, and her hips pushed up against him.

"Lovely," he whispered in her ear. "and you're going to tell me all I need to know."

His lips brushed hers, slowly, again and again, the gentlest of kisses. Maddeningly restrained, and beautiful, and tender. She felt her nipples aching they were so hard, craving his touch, craving his mouth.

He released her hair and moved his hand to her throat, caressing it as he continued his feather light kisses on her lips. His slid his thigh between her legs and she realized he was going to have her right there, either standing up, down on the ground, or on the bench, or maybe all three.

"Please....my hands, I want to touch you," she whispered.

"No."

He trained his eyes on hers again, and she could feel his cock, hard and hot, pushing between her legs even though it was still safety tucked away in his jeans. Then she felt his tongue, so soft and hot between her legs, and she felt his lips close over her most sensitive spot, his tongue lapping and sucking her there, even though he was doing no such thing. How the fuck was he doing that? How was it possible? Just like in the vocal booth, she felt his warm breath, his lips and his tongue between her legs. That thought tightened the hot delicious knot building in her core even more. She was so close, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

He read her expression and he laughed softly against her mouth.

Another soft no-tongue kiss. She cried out again.

He pulled up the back of her dress, and tucked the fabric under her hands, still locked in his behind her back. The cool breeze against her wet heat pushed her even closer toward the edge. He kissed her fully then, his lips slanted and parted hers and his tongue slid in between her lips, and she moaned. She felt his warm hand on her bare hip and thigh. He kissed her again the same way, and his hand cupped and squeezed her ass, his long fingers grazing deep into the cleft. She knew he could feel how wet she was, feel her grinding her wet panties against his thigh.

He pulled back to look at her.

"If I let go of your hands, will you promise to keep them behind your back and not touch anything?" he asked.

"Yes, I promise." She was moaning softly nonstop now.

"Tell me what you need, darling. Say it."

"No more teasing please, I'm so ready..." Saying the words took her right to the edge.

"Yes," he said. "I know, it's delicious isn't it? You need to come. You're so wet. Are you dripping for me, darling?"

"Yes, I'm.... dripping for you."

"Is it running down the insides of your thighs? Say it."

"Yes. Oh--fuck yes, down my thighs for you." Her head fell back, and she cried out.

He dropped to his knees before her and pushed her dress up. He pressed his face between her legs above her knees, careful not to touch her sex. He inhaled deeply, and her clean, musky scent made him weak and he groaned. He tasted the sweet slickness on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, licking every drop, licking up higher until his lips touched the edge of her panties. His tongue scalded her. He slid his hands up her legs to her hips, and he hooked his fingers into the sides of her silky little panties. He looked up into her eyes, holding her gaze, and he slowly slid her panties down to her knees, and then down to ankles. Long elastic threads of her honey pulled down with them. Her panties had wedged up into her crevices, and it felt incredibly stimulating when he pulled the fabric free. She reached down to his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped out of them. She fought the urge to grab the back of his head and push his face into her wetness, and make him lick and kiss her, make her come right then, and it was all she could do to stop herself.

He put the gusset of her panties into his mouth and sucked them, never taking his eyes from hers. Then he stood up and took her face in his hands. The eye contact overwhelmed her; she fought to sustain it.

"You taste like heaven darling." He gently licked the corner of her mouth, slowly painting her own juices onto her lips with his tongue, letting her taste herself.

He slid his hands up under the front of her dress, up the curves of her waist, and he palmed the generous handfuls of her breasts, his thumbs poised ready to brush over her nipples. But he stopped, and instead blew on them. She was panting and pushing her nipples toward him, pushing her hips toward him.

He thumbs hovered over her nipples, and she whimpered unintelligible words, relishing in the heat of his hands.

"Do you want to come darling? Tell me."

Her hands were down by her sides, fists clenched so she wouldn't reach for him. Or between her legs.

"Fuck yes, I'm so close to c..." before she could say it, his thumbs and forefingers claimed her nipples, pinching and rolling them. He quickly pushed aside the halter top of her dress and covered a pink nipple with his lips and tongue and sucked hard. First one, then the other.

Her mouth fell open and she cried out, her eyebrows knitting together, and her breath burst out in short little gasps. She called out his name. He quickly covered her mouth with his, and he slid his hand between her legs and pushed his long middle finger up inside her and felt her tight, squeezing pulses clamping down hard on him.

She fell against him, and he put his other arm around her waist to steady her. She stared wordlessly into his eyes, shaking her head slowly, her chest heaving, and her breathing jagged. He held her and watched her face while she recovered, smiling at the pleasure he'd given her.

"That's your first one," he said. "And yes I'm keeping count."

"I've never come before like that," she whispered.

"In my mind I've had my face between your legs since the moment you walked in this morning. You felt it, didn't you? Admit it."

She looked at him, her eyes widening. "Yes. I, I was insanely aroused, yes. Way more than usual."

"What do you mean, more than usual?"

"Well, I get, um, aroused by great grooves," she said. "Just by listening. Your playing, your groove, your feel--it just feels so good to me, so good that I get aroused. All really good grooves kind of affect me like that, actually, but yours just takes me right there."

He smiled, and he kissed her. He knew it. He knew she experienced groove and feel the same way he did: powerfully and viscerally and sexually. The best musicians all did.

"I've never told anyone that before," she said. "It first happened years ago when I playing bass full-time, working with a couple drummers who were really, really great players, we'd get such a great pocket--felt so good, you know? So good it was sexual. It made me wet. Especially when I'd work the groove, you know, pushing it ahead or pulling it back behind the beat. Now when I hear or play really deep solid grooves, it can do the same thing. Your playing always does it for me." She looked at him for his reaction, then quickly continued.

"I know that's twisted, some kind sexual fetish. I've never told anyone that." She had undone the buttons of his shirt and was stroking his chest and nipple. Her other hand was gently stroking his hardness through his jeans.

"No, not a fetish," he said. "Groove and feel in rock and R & B, and blues can be very sexy. You're not messed up at all, darling. Most of the best musicians I know feel it sexually, at least to some degree. That's what feel means. You actually feel the music inside you. Not that many blokes talk about it like that, mind. When you're playing together you don't generally confess you've got an actual woody because of how good each others' playing is. You're in great company, darling. You've got such great feel, I'm not surprised at all." He kissed her deeply, and she sucked his tongue gently. He felt himself throb.

"When you were in the vocal booth, were you imagining me on my knees in front of you, coaxing your legs apart, kissing you, licking you, tasting you, trying to make you come?" he said, "because I was. I couldn't help myself."

"Yes, I could feel it, felt so real and so powerful, I was going out of my mind."

"Tell me, how close were you to having an orgasm when you were in the vocal booth?"

"Really close, I was going crazy, and I almost had to get myself off at one point. But I was trying so hard to focus, and be professional. I wanted my vocal to be flawless, wow you with my vocal prowess."

"But you've already done that, darling," he said against her lips as he kissed her again. "I absolutely love what you can do with your voice, the tones you get...I'll tell you so much more about that later. But right now, please tell me, how much do you like oral sex, both giving and getting?" he said.

"Not at all," she said with a lascivious smile. "And I'm terrible at giving head," she teased. "I need so much practise, I need to keep doing it over and over and over...daily, at least." She laughed. "Really, I love it. It makes me so hot."

He quickly shrugged his shirt off and tossed it on the bench behind them. He tugged at his belt, but her hands pushed his away. She reached down and swiftly undid the buckle and then the buttons of his jeans, while he took hold of the back of her dress, and tugged it up and over her head, binding her arms and blindfolding her momentarily while he tugged it off. Then he stopped, and his smile faded. She stood naked before him. Her nude body--well, he hadn't prepared for it. He had planned for many different scenarios today, and for their first time together--most of them very exciting certainly--and of course he'd fantasized about her, but he hadn't accounted for this.

She was beautiful no question about that, and younger than he was, but not by more than 10 of 15 years or so he thought.

She stood looking at him, her eyebrows raised. The sun had moved lower in the sky and it back-lit her blonde hair. It fell over her shoulders, almost completely hiding her full breasts and her perfect, pink nipples. Her hourglass hips curved up into her tiny waist above her flat stomach. Her sexy thighs--thighs he knew women half her age would envy--were capped by the soft blonde triangle between them. He stood open-mouthed.

Since his wife passed away two years before, he hadn't really noticed any woman. Then he heard her singing that damn song. Her voice. The voice of a fucking verifiable goddess.

Her blue eyes flashed, eyebrows raised. Her full lips parted in surprise.

He groaned out loud and reached for her. He pulled her against him, and the moment she pressed herself against his naked chest, he knew she felt their connection as deeply as he did. It was undeniable before, but now, skin on skin, it overwhelmed him.

"You are so beautiful it took my breath away," he whispered in her ear.

He kissed her properly, the way he'd been dreaming of kissing her, the way he needed to kiss her. No playing, no teasing. She met the kiss with equal passion, and her arms wound around his neck as she pulled herself harder against him. Her foot slid up the side of his leg, up high past his waist, and she caught her toe on the waist of jeans before sliding her foot back down, pulling his jeans down with it. She repeated the move on the other side, and he felt her sex caress his cock through his briefs as she did it. He kicked away his jeans and boots and felt himself throb, and he moved his hands under her ass and lifted her off her feet. She wound her legs around his waist.

His cock was thicker and harder than he thought possible. He took a step backward and sat back on the bench with her astride him, her wet heat opened on his lap, her hair falling on his arms and chest. He held her gaze, her smile both coy and genuine, and he tucked a silken lock of hair behind her ear and kissed her lips.