/* I hope you enjoy this story, it is my first and first submitted. Feedback is certainly welcomed. If you enjoy this story, please read 'Standing Room Only' by Sarah_C for a different perspective.
Thank you, Shad`oh. */
The band moves onto the stage causing a wild rush forwards from the fans. The small amount of space that had separated bodes rapidly shrinks as the fans all try to move closer, closer to the band and closer to that sweet spot where the sound picks you up and carries you away with it. There are those that like to sit at the sides or stand at the back, but the most hardcore of fans will be up front, ignoring the bumps and bruises that will come from being wedged in with likeminded individuals, being swept away by the energy of the music.
I have been slowly working my way forwards all evening: at just over six foot tall and powerfully built, most of those I edged aside would take one look at me and decide that they weren't going to protest but no matter how big or tall you are there's always a point where there is just nowhere further to go and eight or ten people from the front I found myself at that spot. Close enough though for the right acoustics and the right kind of people around me. The first thundering notes from a bass guitar prove me correct, pulsing through the crowd, bodies go flying as the more enthusiastic of the audience start throwing themselves around in time with the beat. The rough lines of people surge back and forth like the tides, people are jostled and thrown about, an almost primal urge sends people back against those who pushed them, until a balance is formed in time with the music and I am here, in the middle of it, feeling alive.
That's when I notice her.
I must admit that she didn't seem like the type that would be 'moshing' up with the rest: slender build and quite short, even considering my perspective. I had seen her earlier, could hardly miss her jogging up the stairs into the stadium ahead of me. She had on a little black skirt that bounced high enough to show slender but shapely thighs, with a little t-shirt showing off her midriff. She looked more like the type that would sit at the back, not someone who would bounce around with the thugs and deviants.
But here she was barely two feet in front of me, rocking back and forth with the crowd now as the band slips into a more mellow phase. I watch as she pushes her hair out of her eyes. With short hair like that there is no way it will stay back, but she tucks it behind her ear, baring the smooth skin of her neck. The crown is so closely packed now that I can catch a trace of her scent, a sweet berry like smell that seems appropriate to her strawberry blonde hair.
Most of the enjoyment of the concert is in the music and the atmosphere, but there is a wicked thrill as well, the surreptitious groping of a female fan as she bumps into you or squeezes past. Consider it payment for her playing on her looks in order to get to the front, trailing fingers over someone's denim covered behind just adds a little something else to the joy of hearing the music live. The beat of the music, the subtle scent of the girl ahead of me and the long-held fantasies of public sex come together to arouse me beyond what is comfortable. Tucking my dick behind the waistband of my pants solves the immediate problem, the knowledge that if my shirt lifts up I will be exposed to the crowd only heightens the thrill of dancing around with a hard on.
The band finishes their first number to a wild cheer of applause from the entire stadium, then move immediately into their second track. It is an old favourite they say, and the crowd seems to agree as first a few, then more recognise the initial riff..
