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From: Desdmona22@aol.com
Subject: {Desdmona} Drumming Up Lust {MF,Anonymous)
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The following is a work of fiction meant for adults only.. 
Copyright (c) 1999
**********************************************

Drumming Up Lust
By Desdmona

She sat beside a small table as the band played on a low stage
in the back of the bar.  The heavy rhythm of the music affecting
her unconsciously, causing her to move in her seat.  The guitar
player was tall and skinny with a cigarette dangling from his lips,
and the singer was a blonde pretty-boy.   She was more
intrigued by the drummer and couldn't help staring at his
forearms made strong from the years of wielding his sticks,
as he did now. Tattoos peeked out from his shirt on his
chest and bicep, and she studied them, wondering
what they were.  She had no doubt that others
watched him as well, for the crowd was large and he was
handsome. But his gaze every so often steered her way and,
not knowing for sure if he could see her, she smiled. She
willed him to see her. His deep brown eyes were fathomless
and she would like to look into the darkness from a
much closer range.  The swaying and gyrating bodies on the dance floor
occasionally caught her attention.  Perspiration, cologne and
natural pheremones wafted to where she sat.  It was heady
and hot and mixed with music and him.  She was filled with want, and
he seemed to be the essence of that want.

She waited between each song, hoping he would glance her
way. And finally he did. His eyes caught hers. Deep brown
met green, suspended in time, and emotions surfaced.
Curiosity, desire, need, all reflected in each, mirroring
the other. He winked. She knew it was a reflexive action for him
from many nights of playing and many admirers such as she.
His smile reached her eyes and she felt a genuine tug of
connection. And it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, it
was a sincere wink. And she hoped.

He played like he played every night, with gusto and love
for his music and his art. The power of beating the drums,
forming the rhythm, the entire pace left to his whim. It
always exhilarated him. The crowd was exceptionally in tune
tonight, and their chants and screams spurred him on. He saw
her first from the corner of his eye - long dark hair,
moving in time with his beat, her voluptuous body swaying.
When he looked her way, she smiled. A brilliant smile,
infectious in nature and it warmed him.

He glanced her way every chance he got, and each time her 
attention seemed to be focused completely on him. She
was an audience of one. He played for her, not knowing if
she was truly watching him or if he had only imagined it.
The song ended and he looked at her directly. Her light
green eyes captured his imagination, and he thought  he
would like to see those eyes darkened with
passion. As he watched, her eyes never leaving his, her hand
reached to her mouth. She slowly traced her lips with her
painted nail, and then she gently inserted her index finger
into her mouth and began to move it in and out.

He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this erotic
motion. No one did, and he quickly looked
back at her. She was sucking on her finger, and he felt the
stirring in his groin. He sat transfixed, as
she slowly removed her finger and traced down the front of
her. She reached the first button, undoing it and slipped her
entire hand inside her blouse. He was glued to the sight of her
aroused nipples visible through transparent fabric. She
touched each erect bud.

She had no idea what had come over her. Her hand was inside
her blouse as he watched. She only knew she wanted to
capture him, make him see her sensuality, and make him
become part of it. She made lazy circles around her breast,
encircling the areola and gently kneading her tender flesh.
The feeling of wantonness allowed her to forget the crowd
around her. She liked the look of surprise on his
face, and felt sheer delight from putting it there.
The power from his attention nudged her to
continue. She removed her hand and let it travel down the
front of her, caressing her skin through her
clothing as she did. She reached her thigh and ran her
hands along the tops. And then, slowly, opened her legs.
She smiled to herself at her forethought while dressing that
night.

He sat trying to gain control of his burgeoning arousal as
he let every movement she made wash over him. The movements
of a seductress, innocent yet knowing. As he continued to
watch, her legs parted, his eyes bulged, his mouth went dry.
His gasp was audible. There she sat, yards away, visibly 
wearing no panties. Her luscious mound was
covered with dark soft curls, and the glistening of moisture
was evident. His own body responded immediately - he felt
the hardening and the familiar ache for release. He was
astonished at how such an innocent-looking woman could be so
bold. The contrast aroused him further.

As he watched, her legs began to open and close slowly,
rhythmically, and with each new glimpse the wetness spread
until she appeared saturated. His hand went to his lap to
cover his apparent bulge and to just have the feel of touch
against his swelling cock. He felt primal and knew his
restraint was waning, but couldn't think of his options.

She stood and whispered words not audible but visible, "Come
with me."

He nearly jumped from his seat, his adrenalin bursting,
knowing his time was short before needing to
return to the crowd. At that moment he didn't care. He
wanted what she had to offer, and his animalistic need to
have it superceded anything the audience might need or give.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Where had this boldness come
from? She didn't know nor did she care. She sensed his
eagerness and knew her own body was alive.  Her nipples ached.
Her clitoris tingled.  Her palms were moist and her face flushed.
She walked slowly to the corridor, innately knowing he followed
her.  She came to an alcove and stepped into it.
The stone walls were damp and cold to touch.  A coffin-like 
hole waiting to see life again.  The muted sounds of taped
music and a restless crowd echoed in the background.

The heat of his body close to hers was the first signal that
he was there. She turned and looked at him.  They
stood face to face looking at each other and breathing;
His breath was rough and loud, and hers was nearly
absent. He licked his lips.

She refused to think and just let feeling command her.
Taking his hand, she guided it to the wetness he had recently
gazed upon. The heat surrounded both their hands.  Hot, viscous, heat.
She reached for his zipper. 

His body screamed with need as he felt the slow decent of
metal against his shaft. With deliberate yet tantalizing
slowness, her hand reached inside his pants and began to
fondle. Deftly,  she released him from his
cumbersome pants. His pulse quickened. He heard her breath,
felt the warmth of it on his exposed skin and knew she was
as eager as he. He pulled her leg up and placed it around
his hip as his body pinned her to the wall. Her hand reached
and guided him to her sticky cunt . He was overcome by
the sheer tightness, and her willingness. 
He stopped initially to adjust and to prevent
the inevitable from happening too quickly. But she was
ready, and her body began the motion his was hungering for. The
erotic dance she had begun earlier with her finger took
hold, and the rhythm born to man took over.

He looked into darkened eyes, pupils large and black
and she returned his gaze,  hypnotized
by the depth his offered. 

The rush of blood whirring in his head took on
the tempo of beating drums in a jungle ceremony.
Thumps building.  Hearts throbbing.  Lust pounding.
Bodies swaying together harmoniously. 

A final thrust as he drove deeply into her, knocking her
against the wall. Her moans of pleasure escaped through her
feeble attempts to silence herself. Her vagina tightened around his
penis, squeezing with each spasm of release. She pulled from
him all he had to offer. Extracting the life force.
With the explosion, she had also felt the chasm
of surrender, and let her body relax against his. He
pulled slightly away, breathing coming to normal, watching
as she became aware of her actions and her surroundings. A
gentle smile crossed his face as the myriad of
emotions washed over hers. He kissed her on full
lips, reveling in the soft, tender flesh. Then, slowly, he
pulled away.

No words were spoken, nor did she want any. Their eyes met.
The look of satisfaction was apparent on both their
faces, and she whispered, "You should go."

He settled back into his seat and picked up his sticks. The
song began and he looked out over the audience. She was
there in her seat.  The rhythm of the song and the pounding
of drums enveloped them.  Defining the moment.






     
     
 


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