The Melody Maker

I close my eyes and throw my head back. I feel a wave of air pass over my neck as my long blonde hair lifts for a second before falling like water along my back. The club is dark, the music is thumping and the vibrations from the speakers are passing up from my stiletto clad feet, along my legs and up my spine as my body sways.

Dancing has always turned me on; the moment a beat falls and my hips jut rhythmically and unconsciously. Something about a room full of people so consumed and filled by a common purpose that always made me feel new, fresh, enlivened.

Tonight I'd started as part of a group and as always drifted off on my own as friends slowly tired and left. Just me and strangers left. Our bodies dangerously close, brushing but not touching. My arms are raised now, my smooth stomach exposed and my body moving slowly like a snake; my eyes are still closed but I can sense him getting closer.

I'd seen him earlier by the bar. Close fitting jeans, dark navy t-shit complimenting his olive skin and dark hair. I can feel him next to me, I could imagine his strong arms stretching as he moved, his thighs tightening as his dipped low following the slow winding down of tempo, even his ankles flexing as he came back up again. As he came back up again and brushed me.

I spin, my hair flicking out. My eyes open and looking right as him. In that moment I see all I need to. As I move close, as our bodies meet, as his hand finds the small of my back and pulls my hips into his, I saw our night play out. We bounce slowly, looking into each other's faces; a smile playing over each of our mouths.

His lips meet mine, slowly, hesitantly. I felt the warmth spreading inside me up my whole body. The intensity of the kissing rising, my hands pulling him closer, my tongue flicking the roof of his mouth as we unconsciously move along to the bass.

Wordlessly, I lead him out into the street. The late night sounds of drunk revellers mixing with the sounds of sirens and traffic. We walk hand in hand back to my flat. Laughing, stopping to kiss on the way. I push him playfully up against the wall, bucking my hips against his while I kiss him. His hand on my ass, slipping under the back of my silk top. His leg slips between mine. I'm already wet and although he can't feel it through his jeans I know it will leave a mark.

I see myself turning the key in the lock of my front door. The familiar smells of home meet me. There a tulips on the table that I bought from the market earlier. There's a half drunk glass of wine from before I left. We go upstairs, there are discarded clothes all over the bed. It's so quiet after the club and the street. We pause, as if taking a deep breath before plunging under water.

Suddenly we're in each other's arms. Our kisses aren't slow any more, they're desperate, hot. His tongue is in my mouth; I imagine it running over my clit. Filing me up. His hand is slipping up my top again, the silk falls to the floor. My breasts heave and my breathing is rapid.

I push him onto my bed and pull down my skirt. I sit over his face and he understands what I want. The wetness of his mouth meets my soaking knickers as he licks me through the lace. Slowly at first, like our first kiss then more furiously. He pulls my panties to the side and slips his finger inside me. One, then two and finally three as I moan and shriek while his fingers fuck me and he licks me. I clasp at my hair then reach down to hold his head still as my orgasm builds.

Suddenly I'm on my back. He's thrown me off him. In my confusion I whimper, no, don't stop, I want to come, don't stop. My hand slips down between my legs but he snatches it off. No, not yet, not until I decide that you can. His voice is soft but firm. My hands are above my head, held in place as he looks over me.

He's kissing me again, pulling at my lips. Kissing my neck, my ears, slipping my breasts out of my bra and sucking my nipples. The fire in my cunt is unbearable. I want you, anything, your finger, your cock, anything. Please. I'm begging him, trying to rub myself against his thigh. Desperate to come.

He laughs and sits back pulling the condom out of his back pocket. I watch breathless as he undoes his flies and moan with longing as he pulls his cock out of his underwear and rolls the condom down into place. Still kneeling he pulls my legs up onto his shoulders. My underwear is still pulled to the side and his cook instantly brushes the lips of my vagina.

I realise I'm holding my breath, I'm poised and waiting for him. He thrusts into me, sharply, quickly. He looks down at me smiling, fucking me hard as I feel myself going. The roughness of his jeans rubs against me and I hear the squelching of the juices I'm making. My hand fly up involuntarily and I grab hold of the headboard, arms tight, screaming as I come. My whole body is rocking compulsively; my hips are slamming into him and I lose track of who is moving and how. He laughs again, playful yet determined and keeps fucking me as I swing between terror and ecstasy. My eyes are clamped shut and my body feels so alert.

He comes, groaning with satisfaction while I'm screaming from another orgasm. He pulls out and I gasp at the emptiness. Lying down next to me he kisses my hair. I curl onto his chest as we pant, delirious from joy and with the smugness that this will be the first of many times that evening.