Lauren first started masturbating shortly before her first relationship began. The tension that built up between her and Matt was palpable, but she had mistaken it for a one-sided lust that could not be acted upon. He was a bass player with perfect hands despite a long scar running down the forefinger of his right hand, and those hands rarely left her mind's eye when she was alone. At first, she pictured them gripping her waist as he thrust into her, or wrapping around her neck while she lay on her back, legs spread and womanhood pulsing. Then she went to one of his concerts.
The singer in his band was a blonde bombshell, a total knockout. Her hair was like daylight, and her eyes like emeralds, and she had a smoky voice that would make Stevie Nicks quiver with jealousy. She walked around the stage with unbeatable confidence, singing with a hard rock scratch that lent power to her already intoxicating voice, and as she strutted her stuff, Lauren noticed just how strong the rapport was with Matt. They looked at each other, screaming the lyrics like no one else was there, and for a quick moment Lauren saw his hands around her neck instead. It looked good, and it looked fun.
That night, when she touched herself, the image of that singer getting choked by Matt made her drip in seconds. He was teasing her clit with the head of his cock, making her whimper through the little space left in her windpipe. Then, he looked over at Lauren and winked. She came so hard that her bedsheets were completely soaked, her body tightened and shook with such powerful convulsions that she was sore for the rest of the night and the following morning, arms, legs, and all. When it was over, she tried to process what had happened. It was a fantasy about the man of her dreams with another woman, but he looked over and winked. She had to be there in the fantasy, she had to have been in the room and watching.
The fantasy was long forgotten by the time they finally got together. They had hardly been dating a week when Lauren found herself desperately fellating Matt and asking for more. What felt like only a minute with his cock against her tongue turned out to be thirty, evident when she looked at the clock. He finally came in her mouth, spurt after spurt filling every bit of space inside until her mouth was almost completely full. The taste was magnificent, the sensation addicting. Not only was he the man of he dreams, he was also a god of sex.
Not long after, when they decided to have sex, her suspicions were confirmed. She came three times before he even started to fuck her, and that was three more times than she had ever orgasmed with someone else. She could get it going just fine on her own, but until Matt her experiences were left wanting. Now she learned the real meaning of an orgasm, and craved it every moment she was with him.
It was the honeymoon phase, of course, and when months went by and they remained together, the energy calmed to a healthy buzz. He never lost his talent for making her cum, and she never lost her thirst for his orgasm. That didn't mean they had to do it every day.
When the summer time hit, Matt was seen less and less. "We're thinking about writing some new songs," he explained. "Can't do it right if we don't put in the work, you know?" The band wasn't trying to make it big, but they did have one hell of a time writing music instead of just playing it. Lauren would never call any of their songs a hit, but they weren't bad to listen to either. In the grand scheme of things, it was always going to be a hobby. But sometimes hobbies are just worth doing right.
Lauren would spend her time in a variety of ways without Matt: catching up on TV shows, studying ahead of time for her fall semester at college, or masturbating to the memories of their greatest sexual hits.
A moonlit night out on the lake spent with his hard cock between her tits, slipping between her massive 32F pair with nothing but their combined saliva to lubricate. Her breasts were surprisingly sensitive for their size -- she had heard that the bigger the bust the less feeling their was. But she could get a world of pleasure out of a titjob.
A heat of the moment screw in the back of her SUV, parked on a dirt road between two towns. Every now and then a car would drive by and they would slow down a bit, but after about a dozen or so they stopped caring. Then, when he finally sprayed a hefty load across her tits, they looked up to see a car full of twenty-somethings had stopped to observe the rocking car. Something about that only made the memory more exciting, and it led to many interesting thoughts.
Once, Lauren had asked him to spank her. She only meant it as an experiment, but after only one hard smack against her buttocks she was subdued into a state of unabashed desire, and soon he was letting his hand fall in rapid succession. By the end of it, she was so bruised that it was painful to sit for the next couple of days. But it was more than worth it to her.
When Matt finally told her the band would be doing a new gig at the local arthouse, she'd already had a mountain of fantasies floating around in her head. She wanted to be tied to the bedpost, she wanted to let him cum on her face. She even wanted to try filming one of their longer sessions for them to watch later. It was a massive relief that they had finished their writing process, and in celebration she derobed and rode his cock for nearly an hour.
A week later, she was drinking a cocktail and waiting for the band to come onstage. Some rat-mustached college freshman was striking the strings of his electric guitar with such jagged rhythm that Lauren feared he would break it in two. He screamed incomprehensible lyrics and seemed to be playing whatever combination of frets he felt like. It wasn't quite music, but it wasn't NOT music either.
He received a piteous applause from the few dozen patrons at the venue, and after a half-assed bow he droned into the microphone, "Now for the main event."
Matt's band walked up to the stage casually to much louder applause and quickly plugged their instruments in. There was no great entrance, but the song began with such a kick that Lauren felt it deserved a proper lighting cue. It was Matt on the bass, plucking at the strings with fingers so fast they were hardly visible. After maintaining that speed for an impressive amount of time, he stopped quite suddenly. Silence hung in the air until at last the guitar, drums, and vocals kicked in all at once with him.
That bombshell singer rasped her way back into Lauren's heart in just a couple words. The lyrics were something about a revolution of thought, a desire to think beyond the names and faces and go straight into the action. Something about it seemed sexual -- or maybe it was just Lauren's libido screaming for more release. Still, she couldn't help but interpret it so. "A little less conversation," Lauren thought.
