Band Guy

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*

She locked eyes with him as the band began their second set. He didn't know it yet, but he was going home with her. She'd been watching him play for several weeks now, a different bar or club each weekend. Why him? Didn't really matter, but he was easy on the eyes and she liked how he made his guitar sing. One might say he had talented fingers, but she wasn't one for clichés. He also wasn't shy, and joked with the audience between songs, giving her a glimpse of who he was offstage.

By the third song, Pete could hardly keep his eyes off of her, the leggy brunette in the second row. Her body swayed to the music, her hips hinting at a more primal rhythm. She wasn't a knock-out, but there was something about her that captivated him. He felt drawn to her, and he decided to introduce himself after the set.

She was ordering a Skinny Bitch (vodka and diet coke) when he tapped her on the shoulder. As she turned her head, her hair tickled his nose with the scent of flowers. Not the fragrance he'd expected, but it was a nice surprise in a smoky room. He tossed a five on the bar.

"It's on me."

"Not yet, it's not," she replied, looking him squarely in the eyes.

Pete wasn't entirely sure how to take that, but he suspected that more than one guy had ended up with a drink poured over his head after pissing her off. He had never had a drink dumped on him before, and he wasn't about to let that happen tonight.

"Perhaps we've started off on the wrong foot," he said, flashing her a boyish grin. "I'm Pete."

"Catherine."

"Nice to meet you, Cathy. My friends call me Smo."

"It's Catherine," she said firmly, and turned away.

Pete stood there for a second, not quite sure what had just gone wrong, but suspecting whatever it was, it was his fault. "Perhaps this night wasn't going to go well after all," he thought, tossing back the rest of his beer before heading back to the stage.

+ + +

Pete looked for her during the third set but couldn't find her. He was surprised that he felt disappointed. He usually didn't care much one way or the other, because he had Megan waiting at home. "Had" being the operative word, you see. She moved out last weekend, saying she "needed a break" which really translated into "breaking up" in Megan-speak. Pete thought "taking a break" meant "taking a break but coming back," but definitions weren't the only thing they didn't agree on, apparently. So while he was newly single and still smarting somewhat from the seemingly-sudden demise of his first live-in relationship, he also wasn't one for cheap tawdry sex or rolls in the hay with strangers, either. He'd found he really preferred some sort of emotional connection, some sort of friendship in place, before bedding a woman. Besides that, it was certainly safer. Like his mom used to say, "Don't put that in your mouth – you don't know where it's been!"

So why was he disappointed that Catherine wasn't there for the third set, when she'd seemed so obviously interested? Hard to say, really. Pete thought she was cute, of course, and she seemed interested in him, which was certainly good for the old ego. He had hoped to at least ask her to grab a bite to eat with him at the all-night diner next door once he'd helped load up all the band gear. He just didn't feel like drinking any more tonight and a little company – especially from someone who was easy on the eyes – would have been nice. No matter, really. He'd still go get a slinger and then head home and hit the rack. Tomorrow afternoon he had tickets to a double-header against the Cubs, which required twice the amount of beer at the ballpark.

+ + +

She couldn't believe he had the audacity to call her Cathy. What was with guys thinking every girl had to end her name in a –y? Well, he'd learn pretty quickly that it was Catherine, and she wouldn't tolerate anything else...with a few exceptions, but that was better explained later, after she'd fucked him a few times.

In the meantime, she was sitting in a booth near the door of the Southside Diner, sipping a diet coke, waiting for him to arrive. He didn't know she was waiting, of course. It would be purely coincidence that she was there. But she knew him better than he knew himself.

He was quite surprised when he walked in the door and saw her sitting in a booth, her back to him, perusing the menu. Had she known he would be here? Highly unlikely, because he usually headed back to Eric's house after a show to unwind and this wasn't one of their usual venues.

Pete slid into the booth across from her, brushing her knees with his. "Mind if I join you?"

She glanced up from the menu. "Would it matter if I said yes?"

He grinned. "Not really, because I'm hungry and this place is packed. If I waited for my own table, I might never get to eat."

+ + +

She pushed him up against the alley wall with her body, kissing him hard, her hands tugging at his shirt as she strained to feel skin against skin. She was pure heat and he wasn't anxious to put out the fire raging underneath that white T-shirt and jeans. As the surprise turned to desire, he was tempted to wrap her legs around his waist and take her right there in the alley, but that might mean there wouldn't be any sex later, and he was a twice-a-night kind of guy.

All he had intended to do was walk her back to her car, maybe get her phone number, and give her a peck on the cheek if she seemed receptive. She had suggested the shortcut through the alley, and then – WHAMMO – she was on him. This was waaay too easy...wasn't it? Then again, maybe being single again wasn't too bad. Maybe he still had the old mojo after all....SMOJO!

He pushed her away with his hips, grabbing her hands at the same time. "Whoa, slow down, tiger. We've got plenty of time, Catherine," he whispered in her ear. "My car is just around the corner. Your place or mine?"

+ + +

Pete had hardly started driving when she was on him, unzipping his pants and taking his cock in her sweet wet mouth, sucking it like a fudgesicle. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not blow his load right then and there. She had the most incredible, talented mouth he had ever experienced, but he hadn't come this far to blow it.

"Catherine, I think you need to stop. Now." He tried to keep his voice firm while concentrating on not crashing the car. She pulled his cock deeper into her mouth, and he could feel the back of her throat massaging the crown. God, she was amazing, but it would not be amazing if they were pulled over right now. He would be so screwed, and not in a good way.

"Catherine. Stop. Now." She sucked him harder, pulling him farther down her throat and massaging his balls with her hand. "Sweet Jesus, Catherine, please, stop. I mean it." He gripped the steering wheel hard and focused on the road, trying to ignore the pressure building in his groin. Two more blocks and they'd be at his apartment. Just two more blocks.

Crap. Stoplight. She increased the suction and began sliding him in and out of her mouth with lightning speed. Somehow she also managed to stroke him with her tongue in a circular motion that had him jamming his foot on the brake and groaning, his head pressed back against the headrest. Sonofabitch he was gonna cum, could feel it rising, the pressure almost at a bursting point when –

What the fuck?! Her mouth was gone, replaced by a firm pressure at the base of his cock that prevented him from finding release. Oh this was so not funny. He opened his eyes and looked at her. She smiled and winked.

"Green light, Pete. That means go." A horn behind him reiterated her direction, and he hit the gas, squealing his tires as he took off, barely able to breathe. She loved having this kind of control over a man, knowing he would come when and where she allowed him to, and not a moment before.

+ + +

Pete led her inside, and she was thrilled to see the steps leading upstairs. Stair sex was always great, and she had no intention of waiting to get to his bedroom. When he turned around after locking the door, she was on him, her hands tugging at his shorts, pulling and pushing them until they were down around his ankles. As he kicked them free, losing his shoes at the same time, she wriggled out of her jeans, still kissing him, her tongue reminding him of what she had started in the car but not finished. He somehow managed to lose his shirt in the process, which was fine with him.

Catherine pulled back for a moment, allowing his gaze to travel up and down her near-naked body. Clad only in the tiniest scrap of fabric that could still qualify as panties, her pussy lips were clearly outlined against the white lace with the briefest hit of pubic hair just below the low-riding waistband. Her full breasts peeked over a matching lace bra that was definitely for show and not support.

After he completed his visual tour of her curves, she locked eyes with him and gave him a knowing smile. His face was undisguised, raw lust, his desire for her obvious. He definitely worked out, and she suspected from his legs that he was a runner. They were nearly the same height; she was maybe an inch or so shorter than he, and when he pulled her close again, his hard cock pressed up against her lower abdomen.

"She is so freakin' hot," he thought, and she felt so good in his arms. He slowly traced the curve of her cheek with one finger, his lips meeting hers with an insistence and urgency that let her know she couldn't make him wait forever.

Catherine pushed him back, up against the door. "Stay there," she commanded in a low, sultry voice that sent shivers up his spine. He complied, watching her with bated breath as she turned and walked the few feet to the stairs.

She bent over at the waist, her legs straight, giving him a nice view of her shapely ass barely concealed by the whisper of lace that she called underwear. Pete could tell she was almost clean-shaven, save for a little cap of hair he'd seen through her panties a moment ago. He could smell her arousal as she spread her legs, bracing herself with one hand on the stairs, the other hand reaching around to finger herself. He couldn't see clearly, thanks to the panties, but that was okay. This was like watching porn, only better. He could smell pussy, wet hot pussy, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he had his first taste of her sweet honey.

When she pulled her panties aside for better access, he got his first glimpse of pink, and he nearly blew his load at the sight of her red-nailed fingers sliding in and out of that deep rose cave. It would take him two steps to be close enough to help her, but she told him to stay put. He wanted to be good, but boy-oh-boy did he want to bury his face in that sweet little cunt of hers and slurp it her juices like a thirsty man in the desert.

Catherine slowly stood up and turned around, sliding her bra straps down over her creamy shoulders, exposing her breasts capped with light brown nipples. The skin around them was puckered, pushing the nipples into tight erect points that begged for attention. Down came her panties, caressing her legs as she shimmied out of them and kicked them aside and out of the way. She was so wet and so turned on that it was killing her to continue the teasing, but it was necessary. She wanted him to want her so badly he couldn't stand it anymore. And he was close, but not quite there yet. Sitting on the edge of the third step, she spread her legs wide, giving him a full view of her dewy slit as she fingered herself. Rubbing her clit with two fingers, Catherine used her free hand to pinch and pull her nipples, working herself higher and higher toward her peak.

Pete was dripping pre-cum on the floor, and his dick ached. He needed to fuck her so badly right now. He wrapped his hand around his bigger-than-usual erection and began to stroke himself, watching her finger-fuck herself with lightning speed.

"Oh, yeah, Pete, that's it, stroke it. Come on, baby, get yourself good and ready for me," she moaned, watching him pull on that big cock of his with fast and furious strokes. His knob was a blur as it disappeared and reappeared from his fist. She was dripping wet, and he could hear the squishing sounds of her fingers working in and out of her cunt.

Pete was about to cum. He was so close, but he didn't want to cum yet. He really wanted to be balls deep in that twat of hers before he let go. He concentrated on her slit, glistening with juice, taunting him.

"Pete, stop. Now." His eyes found her face as his hand slowed. "Take your hand off your dick, Pete." His hand dropped to his side, and his erection bounced with its sudden freedom.

Catherine stood up again and knelt on the stairs, looking over her shoulder at him. "Fuck me, Pete," she commanded in a husky voice, thick with need.

He was frozen. "Now, Pete. I'm not going to tell you again." She reached around and spread herself wide open in invitation, and that was the impetus he needed. In two steps, he was behind her, aiming his rod at her cleft. Like an arrow to the bull's eye, he sank in with one swift stroke.

"That's it, Pete. Now fuck me hard." She thrust back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke as he slammed his dick home, faster and faster. He gripped her hips and held on tight, trying to keep up the pace she had set. Spreading her cheeks, he watched his cock impale her, disappearing into the wet satin darkness and then reappearing, slick with her sweet cunt cream. His urge to cum had been somewhat abated by the shock of hearing her say "Fuck me," and he was thankful, because now he could enjoy pounding her tight little pussy, hearing her whimpers as she tightened around him.

"Ugnh, yeah, Pete, that's it, baby. Oh, yeah, I'm gonna cum...." And with that brief warning, she came, her juices squirting out around his cock as he stuffed her full, reveling in the exquisite torture of her cunt tightening like a vise around his cock, pulling his own orgasm out.

He cried out, pumping her full of jet after jet of his hot cum, each of her contractions causing another spurt of his cum to coat her cervix. She collapsed forward onto the stairs, and he leaned over her, his cock dripping jism onto her ass cheeks as they both panted and tried to catch their breath.

When he was able to see straight again, he led her upstairs to bed, where he intended to fully explore that hot little body of hers once they'd had a little sleep.

Catherine curled up next to him, her leg draped across his body, and smiled. "This was a very good start," she thought. "I wonder if he has any rope...."