Sonic Booms of the Language Barrier Ch. 1
Night. In the dark.
I lay on the bed, naked and hot even with the windows and bedroom door open as she rolled over onto me, still breathing fast through the haze of humidity and incense smoke which hung in the room like an atmospheric wet spot. I loved the sound of that fast action breathing of hers. I loved many of the sounds she could make. But now I am getting ahead of myself aren’t I?
It was June, and it was a hot June to say the least. Outside on the street we could hear the street sounds of traffic going endlessly back and forth. Laughter and loud voices moving up and down the street. The originators of those voices no doubt bouncing around the numerous bars in the neighborhood, maybe to visit with friends, maybe to make new friends or even just a temporary friend. The loud music of the band playing the bar directly across the street became louder every time someone opened the door. On very humid nights you can actually make out the lyrics as they are being sung. On this night I very well could have sung along if I had not been preoccupied with force ramming my cock into the lady friend who was leaning over me. I had always found it very erotic to make love with the windows open on a busy street. You could hear the street travelers out there, sometimes even smell them, but on the third floor they couldn’t see you or hear you- at least most of the time. I was listening to the street sounds as I suddenly felt her pressing the glass yet again to my lips.
“Here, have some more…” she whispered to me with a tipsy rise in her tone. In the dark I felt the cool smooth surface of glass pressing against and parting my lips even as she extended out a long nailed finger and caressesingly scratched it down my cheek. I could not see her nails, but I had taken notice of them as I had thrown her hands up in order to tear the sexy little cocktail dress from her body not a half hour earlier. They were deep red and shining so bright they almost seemed to reflect like mirrors. They were her real nails so far as I knew, and they were long enough and sharp enough that I could still feel the scratch she had put on my chest after I had torn down the zipper on her dress and pulled her free of it. Compared to that, the soft and controlled smoothness of her nail upon my cheek sent a tingle through my spine.
Her body at the time was resting upon my right arm; in my left hand I held a lit cigarette. The breeze coming in through the window was still evaporating her moisture from my cock we had finished so recently. The breeze also worked to cool my blood rushed member in the process. She slowly tilted the glass upward, cooling my wet lips as well. I felt the wine drip and splash upon my lips and felt my excitement brew again. For a moment of clarification though it was not her feeding me wine as if in some Roman slave fantasy that excited me so. It was the way she did it. The way I felt her nail cut softly into the skin of my cheek even as the cool glass touched my lips. The unplanned way I could not move my arms. And most of all, the way she knew it. My hands were entirely full between her and the cigarette. It was not planned this way but without either of us gasping a single word she was fully aware of it. By the labored way I heard her breathing and the way she started to grind her sweaty body down into my arm and hand, she knew exactly what she was doing. As you will learn, there are many things about this night that I am unsure of, but of that I have no doubt.
I drank as she held it to my lips. I felt a cool little splash on my upper chest. I jolted suddenly as the cold wine hit my skin. She clearly moaned as I sipped at the wine.
“Drink,”
was all that she said. She was pivoting her hips around on my arm, moving her legs back and forth. She was small, but she was pressing into my arm hard, cutting off the circulation. Her ass rested on my hand. I could feel her pushing and swinging her ass down into my hand. I extended my fingers upward, grasping, holding her soft sweaty flesh. She moaned just as she began to pour the wine into my mouth. It tasted cool and refreshing to me at first, even as the heat-induced dehydration made it rush to my head. My mouth filled with cold, very refreshing wine. She held it yet to my mouth. I exhaled a breath like a long sigh through my nose to signal that I had had enough. Either she did not get the message or she ignored it because she tilted the glass higher, pouring more wine into my open lips. She began to move her body harder against my skin. I reflexively tried to raise my arms. She was small but not so small that I could lift her up from that position so my right arm was useless. I began to move my left and remembered the lit smoke in my hand. I could smell it if not see it. I swallowed down a big gulp of wine even as she poured more in, fast enough that I couldn’t take in a breath of air. My lungs were empty. My entire body tensed with a prelude to total panic. I made a loud guttural sound in my throat that would have more resembled a scream than a moan.
Her only response was a whispered sound that could only be described as a laugh.
With that laugh, the true games of the evening commenced.
My mouth filled; she kept pouring. I swallowed more and managed to suck a half breath through my nose. Wine was flowing down my chin on both sides. She poured and I swallowed. Her legs were rubbing up and down my body and rubbing against each other like a cricket’s. She was completely cutting off the circulation to my lower arm and hand. My fingertips had started to tingle; my arm and hand were throbbing with a dumbly numb sensation that bordered on but did not quite break over into pain. I felt her rest a hand on my chest gently. A few seconds later as I tried to swallow the wine I felt those magnificent nails dig into my skin. My chest was heaving like an iron bending bellows but I still felt like I was getting no air. She tilted the glass more.
“Drink,”
she said again.
Having no real choice in the matter and dizzy, I drank and drank more. I felt the rim of the glass mercifully touch my nose, as I was sure I was about to pass out. I sucked in the wine, finally the last of the wine. I felt it flow down and I took it all in as large a swallow as I could possibly muster. As I felt the last swallow reflex, my lips opened again. It felt indescribably wonderful as air rushed into my mouth like a spasm. I opened my chest and sucked in breath loudly. She was off of my arm instantly. Blood rushed to my fingers. I exhaled and breathed again. I went lightheaded. Somewhere in the dark she moved. But I focused on breathing again. My heart raced; my lungs flexed over and over again. My body mimicked the motion with my arms and legs spasmed with each breath. Both breath and body fell into a pulsing rhythm that slowly, mercifully began to calm. Wine still dripped from my lips. Air leaked into and out of my lungs. The room came into perspective and I felt alert again. The night sounds of the bar patrons and endless traffic came back to me. The band playing across the street was singing a rather not bad version of “Hard To Handle.”
I flexed my fingers and brought my smoke to my lips. I tried to suck on it but it was long since burned out and gone to ashes on the floor somewhere. I reached behind and slipped it into the tray on the headboard where she was burning incense. I grabbed next to it and felt my pack of cigarettes. With all the dexterity of a good escape artist, I pulled one out and put it in my mouth, still sprawled out flat on the bed. I flicked the lighter, casting the whole area in low light for an instant as I lit the end of the cigarette.
I saw her.
She was straddling me, resting comfortably and in my new found confused breathless, slightly panicked state I had not even noticed. Even in the low light I could tell she was dripping sweat everywhere. She had very short, always well-styled hair. I could tell it was a sweaty mess. Her own chest was pumping up and down. She had a beautiful muscular body, like a statue really. I could tell by the grip of her legs around me and her slightly jittery motion that she was heaving for breath as hard as I was. And of course, she had refilled the glass of wine and was now slugging it all down herself. I let the lighter go out and inhaled smoke. Like the little pulse of a red light on a dark street, she simply came into view as the head of the cigarette flared up for a moment. She had finished the glass and leaned over to set it on the headboard, of course, dragging her breasts along my face in the process. She knew I couldn't resist her breasts. They were small but very tightly and firmly formed. Very often she didn’t even bother to wear a bra because they simply didn’t require constant support.
And of course because it drove me insane with lust to peer across a table or room and know that all that separated me from those magnificent breasts was a single layer of fabric. Even more so though I loved the way others looked at her breasts. The way other men saw her nipples poking through her shirt and couldn’t stop looking. The thought of woman seeing her like that and longing to be sitting at our table, or standing in front of her in line if not to touch to only be closer to her. I dragged my tongue along her much loved and publicly desired breast as it passed me, exhaling smoke as I licked the sweat from her skin. It was well-planned move on her part. Even if I was mad at her for the wine-drinking incident that I was not, I could not be mad at her if I had taken a long taste of her skin as I had. And she knew I couldn’t resist her, which was what often got me into that sort of trouble.
She was very, very sweaty and tasted of salt. As she went back to an upright position over me, she took the smoke out of my hand and brought it to her own lips. As she inhaled smoke, the ember of the cigarette glowed bright, illuminating the room in her low light. She was swaying gently back and forth, subtly resting herself on my upper thighs, legs spread out, moving herself back and forth along one of my legs. I could feel her lips spread out against the flesh of my leg. I flexed the muscles in my thigh, pulling and pushing and grinding up against her softest flesh. She felt hotter and wetter from the inside than the outside, if that were possible. Regardless, it was close. “Care for another?” she said in a low voice as she exhaled smoke and slid slowly forward and back. She set the smoke back in my mouth.
“No thanks,” I said. I was still breathing heavy. I sucked in the smoke faster that way. Between the wine and the smoke and the lack of good oxygen, my head was flying. “I think I’ve had enough for a bit.” I reached behind and ashed into the tray. The smell of incense was powerful and musky in the room, almost overpowering. But that was how she liked it.
She moved back and forth on my leg yet. Back and forth she slowly slid along the long trail of her wetness, bearing herself down hard on the downslide, only to ease up on the up-slide. If she was enjoying this new use for my upper leg muscles I did not know. She wasn’t the type to talk dirty, at least not in that
“Oh I love that when you do that!”
sort of way. She had her own ways of using her, soft throaty voice to raise the blood. But now I am getting ahead of myself again aren’t I?
“Well you did enjoy it though?” She said in the dark, still moving up and down my leg. Her tone of voice seemed so natural and analytical that she could have been going over her grocery list.
That was how she did it. A loaded question asked as naturally as a:
