The Roc Star

Whitney Holliday looked over herself one last time in the mirror. She couldn't believe this; when she was growing up and raising her family, she imagined retiring and living alone with her husband in their home in the suburbs of Philadelphia, with her son and daughter off to make their way in the world. How cruel a trick fate had played on them all: her husband had run off with another (younger) woman when she was forty-three, and her twenty-two year old daughter Christy had moved back in with her a year later after finishing college. It wasn't her daughter's presence that bugged Whitney; it was the lack of a masculine presence. She had her husband had always had an active and pleasurable sex life, even after he started his affair that led to the demise of their marriage. When he left, it was like an addict quitting cold turkey: she was always agitated, irritable, and just generally unpleasant to be around.

Now Whitney was forty-five, and she had gotten used to the lack of physical intimacy she endured, and having Christy around made life more tolerable. They became better friends than they had been while she was growing up. Tonight they were going to a club in downtown Philly to watch a rock concert by Christy's boyfriend's band. She had dressed modestly enough: a sleeveless T-shirt with a pair of blue Capri jeans and non-descript boots. Although she longed to meet a man, if only to fuck her senseless for one night, she never wanted to come across as desperate. Christy came into her mother's room and looked with her mother in the mirror. A lot of mothers are confused as siblings with their young adult children; these two women fit that analogy perfectly.

"Ready to go? You know Brian's gonna be upset if we're late." Christy asked.

Whitney laughed. "And why is that?"

"Because this is their first big concert; it means the world to them, and you know what that means..."

"It means the world to you?" Whitney shot back. "Don't worry; I've just finished putting the finishing touches on my outfit."

"Cool, I'll meet you at the car!" Christy kissed her mother on the cheek and bounced downstairs.

Twenty minutes later the two had arrived at the Black Rose, the venue hosting the concert. The building was filled with teenagers and twenty-somethings, the typical draws for underground local house bands. Whitney felt completely out of place and thought about slinking out the door, but Christy pulled her to a table practically directly underneath the stage. Now completely embarrassed and with no back-up escape plan, Whitney could only sit through what she considered the horror show that her daughter called music. The opening act had finally finished and the second attraction was coming up. A bass chord echoed throughout the building as a spotlight shone on the bass player. Strangely enough, Whitney recognized the bass line; it was 'Seven Nation Army' by the White Stripes. Apparently the band used this as their introductory number, because an additional spotlight came on as each element was blended into the song: drums, vocals, and finally, the guitarist. None of them had shirts on, and they were all heavily tattooed. After the song was over they introduced themselves:

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are Tattooed Thunder! I'm Jason, on vocals, on drums is Brian!" After Brian banged out a few notes on the drums, Jason introduced the other two band mates in a similar fashion: Jeremy on bass and Stacy on guitar. Stacy flipped Jason the bird, after which Jason corrected himself and introduced him as Astacio. Whitney remembered that Brian was the one Christy was dating, which was a good thing because for the rest of the show, she couldn't take her eyes off of Astacio! He actually did have a wife beater on, but his tattooed arms were still exposed, and as fast as he moved them playing his guitar, Whitney was enthralled by every flexing and contraction of his biceps and triceps. Her fixation wasn't lost on Christy, because midway through the concert she pulled Whitney into the bathroom and asked if she wanted to meet him!

"What? Are you insane?" was her reply.

"Mom, come on! You've been staring at him the whole time!"

"Okay, he's a good guitar player," Whitney replied, trying to worm her way out of the conversation.

"Mom, good musicians make you wanna get up and move, not sit there staring at them! We're going backstage afterwards anyway."

"Why?"

"Um, maybe so that I can go see Brian?"

"No, I think I'll wait for you out front. Besides, he can't be much older than you."

"Well, I'll let you find out for yourself."

Whitney finally relented. "You are insistent, aren't you?" The two ladies went back to their seats and finished watching the show. Eventually Tattooed Thunder finished their set and gave way to another band. Christy and Whitney hurried to the backstage area, only to be confronted by a burly bouncer. After a few moments of fruitless arguing, Christy dialed Brian up on his cell phone. Brian almost immediately came to the doorway and personally escorted the ladies past the security guard and into the band's dressing room. Christy introduced her mother to Jason and Jeremy, who were sitting with Brian around a laptop computer. Christy then pointed off to the corner, where a lone man sat with a pair of electric guitars. "And THAT is Astacio." Astacio stopped what he was doing at the sound of his name, but didn't look up. Whitney hesitantly took a seat near him, when Jason cracked, "Don't worry about him, he doesn't bite." The way the young man was being compared to an animal didn't sit well with Whitney, but before she could say anything, Jeremy chimed in with, "I don't know about that; remember that day we set him up with Becky, and the next day she had hickeys all over her neck?" This mention caused the previously mute Astacio to burst out into a fit of laughter. "Never again will I agree to go out with a woman you guys try and set me up with. We hooked up that night, and the next morning she was already making a "Things-I-Have-To-Change-About-You" list. That's when you know you are too damn good: when you've got a girl calling herself yours, or better yet, you hers, after just one night." Brian threw his two cents in as well: "Well, Mr. Too Damn Good, how come you don't have a woman?"

"Why? So I can be like you? Nothing against you, Christy, but every other word out of his mouth is about you. In fact, I look forward to when you two get together, because as much as I hate having to watch it, when you stick your tongue in his mouth is the only thing that gives him a reason to shut the fuck up!" Everybody in the room was now in stitches as Astacio finished packing his belongings and headed for the door.

"Whoa, man, why the early exit?" Brian queried as Astacio headed for the front of the club. "You forget about the after party?"

"Got some early business to take care of tomorrow morning. However, given sufficient motivation"-this he said while glancing toward Whitney-"I could be convinced otherwise. Later." Astacio disappeared, and Christy ran over to her mother.

"You have GOT to call him!" she pleaded.

"Why bother, he clearly wasn't interested in me? I don't even know why I got my hopes up."

Jeremy picked something up from the seat Astacio had been sitting in and showed it to Whitney. "He left you his card. He wants you to call him. The man you saw just now, that's just his public persona, I guess you could call it. One-on-one, he's a lot warmer, more sensitive, or at least that what some of his lady friends have told me. In truth, I think you'd like him." Whitney dismissed the idea, although she did keep the card to placate her daughter. After assuring that Christy would have a safe ride home, Whitney headed home herself.

After a long, relaxing bath Whitney threw on a bathrobe and fixed herself a snack. It wasn't until she tried to go to bed that she began thinking about it. 'It' continued to swim through her mind, thwarting any attempts at sleep. 'It' continued to make her think, bringing up the two most dangerous words to an idle mind:

"What if?"

Her mind continued to debate the issue, but her body was thoroughly convinced. Just thinking about Astacio, just visualizing him, replaying the concert, watching him handle that guitar, gave her a brief, yet unsatisfying orgasm. For the past two years her bed had been empty, and here she was in a position to do something to fix that problem. Now she was intent on doing just that; if he would bed her, the better off she'd be, if not then at least she'd tried. She pulled 'it' out of her pocket and dialed the cell phone number listed.

"Whitney?"

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I saw Holliday, W. on the Call ID. No way is Christy home yet; even if she were, she'd have no reason to call me. Let me call you right back."

"OK," Whitney said confusedly as she put down the receiver. A few terse moments passed before the phone finally rang. "Astacio?"

"Yup, it's me," said the voice on the other end. "I'm on my way."

"But you don't even-" The line went dead. "Know where I live..."

About ten minutes later, Christy called. She'd be home the next morning.

========================= Another ten minutes after Christy's call, the doorbell rang. Whitney put her robe back on and went to the door. When she looked through the peephole, she was dumbstruck; it was Astacio. She let him in, quickly closing the door behind him. Once inside he hugged her, gentlemanly but with no clear signs of affection. He had changed out of the jeans he had worn for the concert and was now wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black khakis. "Surprised to see me?" he asked.

"To say the least. How'd you know where I live?"

"Phone book." Duh. Even after the divorce, she never had changed her listing. "I just pulled up some directions online, and poof- here I am."

"Well, I was just on my way to bed, and thought I'd give you a call... you know, maybe to get together some other time." Liar. Why couldn't she just tell him? Besides, from what she'd heard at the Black Rose, he was used to bed-hopping; she didn't want a commitment or anything, just a good lay, after which he could be on his way.

"You... called me... on your way to bed? Well, is it all right if I join you?" was his nonchalant reply; he knew damn well why she had called him.

'All right'? she thought to herself. Do you know the last time I shared this bed with someone? It wouldn't be 'all right'; it would be fan-fucking-tabulous!!! "Sure," came her terse reply as she showed him into the master bedroom.

Astacio's jaw dropped as the sheer size of the bed. From the width it looked to be a queen, but it seemed longer, plus the huge headboard and canopy made it seem even bigger. "Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna brush my teeth," she said as she disappeared into her half bathroom. Astacio decided just to remove his shirt. No way did this woman call him on her way to bed to set something up for another time, as she had said. From what he had heard from Christy, however, it had been about two years since her parents' divorce and Whitney hadn't dated anybody since. He concluded she might be attaching a lot more emotion to him than he was to her, and that it would be best to allow her to dictate the pace of the night.

It turned out he needn't have been so cautious. Whitney had removed her robe in favor of a negligee and something that in some circles might pass as a pair of panties. "I said make yourself comfortable," she said as she moved around to one side of the bed. OK... here we go... Astacio thought to himself as he stripped down to his boxers and climbed in bed next to Whitney. She had lain down on her side with her back towards him, so he lay on his side facing her, but with a few inches of space between them. Let her make the first move, he determined. And she did, immediately eliminating his safety cushion and nestling up against his chest. He placed one arm over her and the other under her head. Whitney shuddered at the mere touch of another human being as she allowed him to caress her stomach and shoulders. She could feel his bare erection brushing against the bare skin of her leg, which only fueled the growing blaze between her legs. She felt his hands gradually drifting farther apart, one gravitating to her breasts, the other inching closer and closer to her aching sex. She opened her legs slightly, and the sheer heat emanating from between them permeated the entire room.

Astacio, meanwhile, was losing himself to his own desires. Here he was, futilely attempting to keep in control when his limbs were entwined around a literal mass of female hormones. The sexual tension in the air was palpable, and it made his mouth water at the sheer thought of making love to Whitney. Waiting for her, at first intense, had now become unbearable. He wanted her, she wanted him, and he knew she wanted him; it was just a matter of making her act on it. Thus, Astacio pulled out the one maneuver he did not want to use on this night with this woman: he ran the tip of his tongue along the skin behind her ear, where it met her face.

That did it.

In a flash, Whitney was on top of him, still with her back against his chest, but now had her legs spread apart as far as they would go, yet for Whitney they still seemed uncomfortably close. Astacio took up some of the space with his hands, massaging her inner thighs as he continued nibbling on her ear. Whitney cried out in ecstasy, but in reality all this foreplay was more painful than pleasurable. She could feel his manhood flat against her back; it was bigger than anything she could remember experiencing. She lifted her ass just enough to place that massive member between her legs and slowly absorbed it into her snatch. A shrill cry was all that could be heard throughout the room as inch after inch of Astacio's thick pecker disappeared into Whitney's tight tunnel. How she reveled in that sensation, feeling Astacio's rod touch her in places she had forgotten she had places. Astacio reached down to hold her hips, but she aggressively pushed his hands away. She was in her own little zone, and neither needed nor wanted any assistance or interference from anybody, not even the man attached to the cock buried in her throbbing cunt. Whitney sat herself completely down on Astacio's cock, stretching herself farther than she had ever been before. She carefully laid down against Astacio's chest, making sure his lengthy organ stayed within her. Astacio began to pump his hips, but Whitney stopped him: "Please, don't move... I just want to lay like this, with that huge cock inside me." As odd a request as it may have been, Astacio complied, allowing her still body to lie on top of his as they drifted off to sleep, occasionally feeling her body twitch in a nocturnal orgasm.

Astacio awoke the next morning and stretched himself, but as soon as he did, Whitney awoke with a scream. Astacio opened his still-shut eyes to see the silhouette of Whitney sitting on top of his cock, barely visible in the morning dark. "Boy, you sure know how to wake a girl up," Whitney said through shallow breaths.

"You mean you actually fell asleep like that?" Astacio marveled.

"Yup, amazingly enough I fell asleep with that monster inside me."

"I see... well, may I please have it back now?" Astacio chuckled.

"Sure, just let me lube it up a bit... you might hurt us both trying to pull out now..." She reached down and lightly squeezed her clit; with that combined with the writhing of her hips, her snatch was wet again in no time. She could really feel that morning wood, as Astacio was even stiffer than he had been the night before. The logic of reason quickly crumbled in the face of lusting passion, and Whitney was again facing the footboard and riding Astacio's cock. Astacio was more than a bit ruffled; he had let her have her way with him last night, but it would not be so again today. He cupped Whitney's breasts and pushed his hips as far up as he was able. Whitney was shocked, first at the new depths she was being penetrated to, and second that her boy toy wasn't being so user-friendly. "Astacio, what are you doing?" she asked, visibly nervous.

Astacio couldn't help but laugh. "Hey, you asked the question; well, here's the answer!" He propped his feet up under his butt and raised up on his knees, still holding Whitney's tits and keeping her impaled on his dick. Whitney's first instinct was to put her hands up in protest, but in the end, that was the worst thing she could have done as the maneuver left her with nothing to keep her front from hitting the mattress when Astacio pushed her down! Her second instinct was to try and wriggle free, but that effort was thwarted when she felt Astacio's hand on her shoulder firmly plant her torso down on the mattress. Whitney realized she was completely fucked, and in more ways than one. Her pussy was already twitching at the memories of her husband, who used this position when he wanted to make her feel like a total slut, and enjoy every minute of it. Sparks shot through her as Astacio pulled back to the point where he was just barely inside her, and then her cunt exploded as he plunged his cock into it!

Whitney's fists were balled up in the bedspread and she was biting into a pillow to silence her screams of ecstasy, which would have certainly awakened the entire neighborhood! She was being carnally assaulted, taken from behind like a common whore by a man young enough to be her own son, and she was reveling in every second of it. As if she wasn't already cumming hard and fast enough, she reached one hand between her legs and started furiously rubbing her clit. The pillow dropped from her mouth and she let out a massive groan that seemed to echo throughout the entire house. The polite, well-mannered lady of the night before was gone; Whitney's inner slut was out in full force and wanting nothing but to have her pussy pounded to orgasmic oblivion.

Astacio, meanwhile, was doing his best to keep up with this woman, something he rarely found himself doing. She was slamming her ass against his hips hard enough to actually hear the flesh smacking in intense passion. Her pussy was the wettest he had ever felt any woman get before, and he suspected she might be a squirter. He could feel her nails grazing the underside of his cock as she frigged her clit, and it got to the point where she had him on the verge of cumming. His voice barely broke through Whitney's consciousness, as her mind was being tormented by climax after thunderous climax. "Huh? What'd you say?" she said when she finally heard him speaking.

"I said, I'm about to cum... what do you want me to do?"

Whitney thought for a moment. She had had her tubes tied when she and her husband had decided against having any more children, shortly after Christy had been born. She wanted to feel him flood her insides with his young cum, but she also thought that he deserved a flood of his own. She slowly moved forward, causing his pecker to fall from her inner sanctum. She pulled Astacio along by his cock as she stood up at the side of the bed. Bending over and spreading her feet, she pulled Astacio's manhood into her once again, dropping her head down so that she could see his balls slapping her pussy lips. "Fuck me, fuck me good you young bastard," she spouted as she resumed playing with her clit, manipulating it in any way that heightened the sensation in her soaking wet cunt. "Gimme that big dick, make me your old little bitch, make me cum all oh, oh-ohhhhhhh, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttt, I'M CUUUUUMMMMMMMIIIINNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!" Her last outburst was punctuated by falling forward, and the moment Astacio exited her, a geyser of pussy juice came out with him! Whitney managed to keep her legs from buckling long enough to splash all over Astacio, much to the young man's delight and shock. She furiously frigged her twat to the tune of two more smaller, yet just as intense blasts of pussy juice. Now feeling spent, she pulled Astacio's pecker back into her, where in short order he unloaded shot after shot of cum into her abused tunnel.