Once a Marine Always a Bass Player

They were friends, good friends, they hadn't known each other long, but long enough to appreciate each other. And then there was that little bit of zing, the je ne sais quoi, that unknown factor that created an unusual connection. They would joke, tease, send naughty messages, and apart from a few drunken kisses they'd never crossed the line.

But then one cool, clear, November night things changed.

****

It was the Marine Corps' 245th birthday and she agreed to meet him for a beer or two before he went home to destroy his liver with scotch and drink a salute to the friends he'd lost.

She understood the ritual, but also felt that being a distraction might be a good thing. So, she messaged:

"The Taurid meteor show peaks the next two nights, it's like the sign of taurus is offering a firework show to celebrate the corps. Wanna watch?"

He replied "It's cold out and I'm not good company."

"You're always good company and I'll bring blankets."

"Tempting as always, but I'm trying to behave."

"Ok, I'll go alone, have a good night."

"Wait, go alone? I thought you were just going out in the yard, where are you going alone?"

"Oh, I thought I'd drive out past the edge of town to get away from the lights and lay a blanket in a field." She replied, knowing his protective traits would kick in.

"I don't feel you'd be safe alone; I'll go with you, but you need to pick me up, I shouldn't be driving."

"Deal, I'll be there in 5 minutes."

She was a little surprised because usually once he was home, he didn't venture out again. But, then again, neither did she, usually once she was home, peeled off her bra, and got cozy, she was in for the night. She decided to skip putting a bra back on and instead grabbed a Marine hoodie from her closet and pulled it over her t-shirt and leggings, slipped on some sneakers, grabbed her keys, and headed out the door. She always had a couple of blankets in the trunk, so she was ready to go.

She pulled up in front of his house he came out, hopped into car, and said, "Okay, where to?"

She shrugged and smiled and just pulled away from the curb.

Fortunately, their town was rural enough that getting away from the lights was only a few minutes away. She drove out to where a semi-private grass runway would allow them to park and lay on soft grass without smashing any crops or having their view of the sky obstructed by trees.

He helped her spread the blanket on the ground, as she settled next to him, he noticed her sweatshirt, "Nice touch, I appreciate it."

"What, this old thing?" She laughed and winked knowing he also noticed how the cold air was impacting her braless nipples.

They looked up at the stars, waiting for the meteors, and the silence became a little awkward, the edge of sexual tension between them was palatable and he decided to pull out his phone and queue up a playlist.

Soon Joe Bonamassa filled the air. The meteors started streaking across the sky, and they snuggled closer, "Isn't this a better way to celebrate than killing your liver?" She asked.

He smiled, "You always seem to know just what I need."

"Oh, I don't know about that, I just like helping you come up with options."

"Is kissing you an option?"

"Yes."

He leaned over and kissed her just as the music changed. Marc Broussard's soulful voice came out of his phone and he slowly started playing along with the music, 'strumming' on her hip. She found is amusing that whenever he listened to music he subconsciously played along, tapping on a table, or a bench, or steering wheel. It was as much a part of him as breathing. They often joked about his bass and guitar playing fingers and how fast he could move them. She laughed and said, "There you go! Teasing me with those magic fingers of yours."

He kissed her again and slid his hand to her waist with an evil grin, "That reminds me of something I've always wanted to try."

He slid his hand lower and in one motion her leggings were down to her knees under the blanket. He grinned at her lack of panties. He slipped his hand between her legs and slowly started strumming her clit along with the music.

It took her a bit to realize exactly what he was doing as he would start and stop, changing tempo, changing pressure, teasing her and bringing her to the edge before easing off. When she realized he was using his well-trained hand to play her as he would play a bass or guitar, she not only lost herself in the sensations, but also in the music.

"You are such a tease." she said as he switched tempo again.

"I can play long sets, are you up to it?"

He slid his other hand under her shirt and began to stroke and twist her nipples with the same rhythm. He had her writhing on the blanket and she hit her peak and came, shuddering against his hand as the music changed again. He kissed her long and hard while he fingered her to another orgasm.

Needing to taste all of her, he pulled her shirts over her head, slipped lower under the blanket, nibbling, and licking his way down her body. She quivered, reacting to his sensual touch - the contrast between his rough stubble, soft lips, sharp teeth, and slick tongue as driving her mad. She could feel him smile against her skin at her response. He pushed her leggings down further as she toed off her shoes. He lifted the blanket briefly to gaze at her pale skin and naked body before settling it over them to stay warm.

He dipped his head lower and she felt his warm breath against her as he slowly tasted her, his tongue following the rhythm of the next song. As he quickly increased his tempo, she started shuddering, her muscles tensing before she bucked against his mouth. He gripped her hips and held on, wanting to extend her peak for as long as he could.

As she recovered from her orgasm, she pulled him up toward her, wanting to kiss him again. He slowly moved up her body, reversing his earlier journey, pausing to lick and bite her nipples before finally kissing her again.

She pulled open his fly and grasped him, stroking along with the chords of Samantha Fish. She pushed him on to his back as she slid under the blanket and began to lick his cock, teasing and taunting his hardness, tracing along his veins and head while following the rifts of the lead guitar, before engulfing him in her mouth. He moaned with pleasure and she chuckled, the pulses in her throat spiraling him closer to the edge. Unable to hold back much longer, he stripped off his jeans, pulled her up, rolled her over, and thrust into her hot, wet, velvet core. They both gasped and then giggled as the music switched again to a song with a driving bass line. He again followed the rhythm; she matched his tempo as both the song and they built to a crescendo.

After, they laid together in the cool night, spent, satisfied, and watching the stars shoot overhead.