Just A Fuckable Girl

"I... met... a... boy... wearing... Vans..., 501s..." Well, I am wearing jeans and while my shoes aren't Vans, they do look a bit like them.

That's it. I can't wait any more. I get rid of my clothes and come off the bed. I grab a fist full of her t-shirt and fling her off her feet onto the bed. In a flash she's crossed her arms at the bottom of her shirt and it's over her head gone. I'm yanking off her pants and there it is, her pussy with a landing strip, trimmed perfectly above it and it's waiting for me. I plunge down onto it with my mouth and start to devour her. She's squirming, writhing, arching her back, but I've got her two tiny, solid ass cheeks in each of my hands and my mouth is locked onto her pussy so she can't get away.

Her whole body starts to tremble in tension. I suck her clit in between my lips and stop moving. Her body vibrates, hanging at the very edge of cumming.

"Don't stop! Don't!...." but I won't let her have it yet. I let go her clit and her hips drop. I lick upwards once and stop, circle her clit once and stop, and her hips fire forward again pressed hard against my mouth.

"Oh fuck! OH FUCK!..."

She's still hanging there, desparate, quaking, right on the edge and I hold her there, not letting her cum, not yet, not yet.

"Oh my God," she moans. She sounds wounded, like she has lost hope of finishing, and that's when I decide she can have it. I put two fingers in and start to beckon 'come here' with them and at the same time I start firm but gentle circles around her clit with my tongue, steady, purposeful, letting her know that she can cum now, that I want her to cum, that I won't stop again until she has cum, long and hard.

It's a wild ride. Her hands are on my head pressing my mouth against her pussy. Her body thrashes, raising her up to almost sitting then throwing her down again with her back arched to the ceiling, over and over. She's strangely quiet as she cums, one grunt but then her breathing stopped and clenched. Again and again her body convulses, over and over, longer than any girl I've ever seen. I start to wonder if she'll stop cumming, but eventually she starts to settle down until all I feel is quivering. She's breathing again, hard, panting for breath, but she's done just as the song ends. It's quiet now except for her breathing.

I lift myself up and kneel between her legs. I tower over her, my cock a hot hard spike.

She glances at my cock, then finds my face. The grin again. Not what I was expecting. I wonder what's going on in her head.

"Gonna need a different song. King of Pain?"

She laughs at her own joke and I can't help myself either. But I'm an idiot, a music nerd. I went to Band Camp for God's sake.

"That's not really what that song is about," I say. Such an idiot.

"Ray," she says with a scolding tone, "I know. He was depressed, just out of his marriage, fighting with the band. I know. So fuck off." But she's still grinning as she says all this.

She reaches up for me and the next thing I know I'm on my back and she's kind of sideways on top of me reaching into her bedside table drawer for a condom. She rips open the packet with her teeth and starts to smooth the condom down over my cock. I'm thinking it's 'go time,' but no, she's trying to find her phone again. Really? King of Pain?

But when the music starts up again beside me, it's not Sting. I'm listening to a nice, acoustic guitar lead-in. I don't recognize it, but it's rich and warm, not too simple, not too fancy, a nice lick. Charlie has my cock in her hand and she's sliding the tip around her pussy lips. She fixes me with her eyes. She hovers over me with the tip of my cock at the entrance to her pussy.

That's when I feel a change, a change from wild, uncontrolled and animal to something softer, more tender, just as urgent but not just bodies anymore, something more than just that, something closer. The lead-in is over. The singer begins:

Just a fuckable girl...

"Who is this?" I ask. The voice is clear, sweet and strong, reminds me of Sheryl Crow.

"It's me," she says and she slowly lowers herself onto my cock, taking it all.

~

She stopped moving as soon as I was buried to the hilt in her and then she bent forward to lay the side of her face on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her and in this ultimate embrace we listened to her song right to the end.

It was stunning, bittersweet and honest, about a woman's fallible heart, a heart that had fallen for a man who objectifies women, a man who can see the pussy but not the person.

When it was over, in the silence she sat up and looked into my eyes, questioning me.

Another man might have said, come on, let's just fuck, but I'm a music critic as well as a hound, and what I had just heard was something very special. The fucking would have to wait.

"First, c'mere," I said and I reached up for her and drew her back down. She nuzzled against me again. I stroked her hair and started to tell her what I thought, blown away by the sweet power of her song, whispering it into her ear.

When I was done, she gave a shuddering breath and said, "Thank you. I appreciate it." She raised herself slightly on my cock and we enjoyed one slow stroke. And that's how it went for a long time, talking together about her song, her feminism and the ways that I found myself responding to her music. And every once in a while she'd slide her pussy up and down on my cock once or twice just to remind ourselves that we were fucking.

"But a lyric like that you'll never get radio play," I said.

"Not interested," she said. "Maybe get exposure on the radio, but these days the money's in live performance and I'm more a studio girl. Gonna die poor but honest."

Somehow, I didn't buy it.

"Got an agent?" I asked.

She stiffened.

"My inspiration. Gone," she said, unable to hide the hurt. I connected the dots in my mind, knowing now where the song had come from, and felt a stab of shame, guilt by association with the worst of my gender. She moved over me again and a wave of pleasure coursed through me. She made a little sound. Crying maybe? I wasn't sure.

But then she stopped, and sat up, as if a realization had dawned upon her, and after a second, she replayed our whole night, thinking out loud I guess, her bumping into me, touching me, what she'd said about me. She grabbed her face in both hands.

"Not going to sue you, but it sounds like you gotta write another song" I said, and she chuckled at this.

We were quiet for a while, and then she came in for a warm, tender kiss. Then she started to rock over me, slow at first but with a steady rhythm. She lifted her face away from me and fixed me with her eyes.

"I'm gonna make you cum now, and I'm gonna watch," she said.

"Ok, but I wanna hear some more," I said.

She reached for her phone.