After one last spin, he held me by my waist, and bent his mouth to my neck. As the harpist fingered her strings, he dropped tiny kisses to my throat and neck. I could feel my skin flushing: my body’s automatic response to desire.
“ I think I like this dance,” I whispered. He only smiled.
The drums seemed more forceful in response to the clarinet’s introduction, its lilting tones higher, twining around the oboe’s sound. The melody spiraled down, deep, aching, lonely, then gone. Just in time, a French horn picked up the melody, sounding confident, strong and bold. Still the drums kept up their beat, a corps of snare drums, relentless.
Dave’s kisses were gathering heat, and my mind became attentive to the feel of his hands in addition to the sound of the orchestra. As I became aware of quiet piano notes slipping through the melody like water, I felt his hands become entangled in my long hair, his strong fingers cradling my head as he bent to kiss me deeply.
Now there were bright silver notes, chiming in a cool undercurrent, and I slid my hands down to cup the tight cheeks of his ass. With the same movement, I pressed his groin closer to me, acutely aware of the evidence of his growing passion. Now more instruments picked up the melody, driven by the steady drumbeat. Notes tumbled over and over, wanton and wild. Trombones, slippery, loud, unmistakable. Still the violins were only plucked, not bowed, and in my steadily declining thought process, I wondered if they yearned to be played.
No single instrument carried the tune now; at least three trombones joined to move the music forward. Bigger in my consciousness were the feelings slipping through my body; at some point Dave had pulled me down onto his lap, while his hands roved across my back, up under my clothes. With a deft twist he freed me from my bra; in the next instant he was rubbing his rough thumbs across my nipples. The sensation was so exquisite and the music so forceful it left me breathless but yearning for more of the same.
Greedy, I reached for the zipper on his jeans, but he gently removed my hands and held them, slipping my shirt over my head and exposing my breasts. The trombones played still, in harmony but with a hint of dissonance, a thread of warning, perhaps foreshadowing a darker passion to come. He caressed my breasts with mouth and tongue; I was so occupied by the sensation and the rising music I barely noticed his hand slipping my panties down. When he touched my cunt it was electrifying, an unexpected rush. I could feel my pussy juices begin to flow.
Dave’s tongue circled my nipple, teasing. From time to time he caught the nipple lightly in his teeth. The alternating waves of mild pain and delicate touch began to build a rhythm in my mind and body. His hand circled on my lower belly; my skirt lay discarded on the floor. The soft skin of my belly yielded to the firm pressure of his hand; I wanted him to hurry and touch me, enter me, but his speed was deliberate, calculated to wring every second of pleasure from my body and his.
I heard more brass catch the melody, steadily rising in volume and complexity. With a last flurry of forcefully plucked strings, strings stretched to their limit, at last the bows come down with a crash to play violins, cellos, violas and bass as they were meant to be played. At that same instant, Dave plunged three fingers deep inside me, unexpected, making me moan out loud. He moved all his attention to the hunger between my legs. Passion surged, wild as the music.
We were on the floor, stretched out full-length now. At some point Dave had managed to get his jeans off, and I grabbed his ass and pulled him to me; now we were in the classic “69” position and I could see his beautiful cock, hard, veins pulsing, a creamy drop of semen topping the head. I love to suck him off, and forgot about my pleasure for a moment to focus on his.
All the orchestra was playing now, fully engaged, the heat rising along with the volume and the tempo. The timpani throbbed, the trumpets sang out, and I heard Dave gasp as I ran my tongue around the tip of his cock. One finger trailed down the inside of his thigh, making him quiver. My other hand ran quickly, softly, over the tender skin of his ass.
I know how to stretch out a moment too, and at first I only tongued his cock, first the head and then the shaft with feather-quick strokes of my wet tongue. Then my mouth reached further, down to his balls, and I slipped first one, then the other, into my mouth and pulled at it gently with my tongue. Dave groaned; now I moved my tongue back up the shaft of his cock and took the head into my mouth, sheathing my teeth with my lips. I moved my head up and down, tongue running across the sensitive edge of the head as my hot mouth enclosed the shaft.
Now I could hear more woodwinds in the music, and I felt again light pressure across my belly, down to my thighs and up again, his fingers playing, faster now. My heart started pounding; I felt the beat of the music to my very core. The floor vibrations, the wail of the oboe and clarinet, the straining flutes and insistent trumpets all became a part of the crescendo building inside me. The whole world was sound and sensation, and Dave and I lay in the middle of it all.
As I moved my mouth up and down over his cock, my hands caressing his balls and that sweet, soft strip of skin between his scrotum and the opening of his ass, Dave began to tongue my clit in earnest, again alternating soft touch and exquisite little nips of pain, his fingers circling round the opening of my cunt, leaving me shaking like a junkie. My pussy was dripping now; the sensation of the creamy juices slipping from between his fingers and sliding to the crack of my ass was unbearably pleasurable.
The music began to swell, and I could hear an unearthly chorus of voices, no words, just notes, following the repetitive melody, entwining with all the brass and woodwinds, strings and percussion. A salty, sweaty crescendo began to build between Dave and me. Long-time lovers, we knew each other well; we had each reached the point where, with the lightest of touches, we could push each other off the cliff, spiraling down into a breathless chasm. When he thrust his fingers again deep into my cunt, his tongue working around and between his fingers, my pussy responded with ferocity, hard contractions capturing his fingers in a tight embrace.
I was attuned to his pleasure now, and cupped the cheeks of his ass in my hand as we moved together, his hips thrusting his cock into my mouth with practiced control. At the apex of his last thrust, I slipped my finger into his pink-brown asshole, and that brought him to a shuddering climax, moaning, cum pulsing into my mouth as he twisted and writhed, his movements gradually subsiding to a tremble.
The stereo speakers vibrated the floor; we moved face-to-face. The cymbals clashed and our lips met. The taste of him and the taste of me joined and swirled in our deep kiss, tongues thrusting and probing. I was exhilarated, charged mentally, physically, and spiritually.
“ Nice dance,” I whispered. “Go, Spain.”
Chapter 10 — All Work and No Play
I click “Send,” then shut down my PC and prepare to leave the office to meet a few friends in a nearby bar. I hear the beep of my colleague’s computer as it tells him he has mail, and I glance up and catch his eye. He holds my gaze a second too long before moving his mouse to his inbox and reading my message. I watch him take a deep breath and slowly shake his head. I’m smiling inwardly as I pick up my coat and stride purposefully behind his desk, making my way towards the door. My colleague turns in his chair as I pass and I can feel his eyes on my retreating figure, taking in my black stiletto boots and short skirt. I feel a frisson of excitement. I’m well aware that I am playing with fire, bringing my hobby into the office, but somehow the risk makes it all the more appealing.