G
Guest
Guest
My new story, 'The Best Show Yet', was posted 6th Jan. Here's a little teaser from it. If that intrigues you, you can follow this link to read the whole thing:
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=5473
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The energy in the room is electric. As I push through the crowd, I begin to realise why. Up there on the stage three sexy, lithe, young women are strutting around in tight dresses, thrashing madly at their instruments, hair flying in every direction, as the goatee-bearded drummer batters his drums like a maniac. The guitarist and bass-player are reasonably pretty - one blonde, the other crazy-red - but it's the singer that stops me in my tracks. She looks so striking out here in sunny California that I just can't take my eyes off her. She's gorgeous. Sullen and pale, with shiny crow-black bangs and smudged crimson lipstick - like a 1920s flapper-girl in some Parisian house of ill-repute.
I push my way through the crowd, feeling strangely drawn.
The woman clutches at the mic-stand, closes her eyes tight and yells. The way she screams sends shivers right down my spine. Panting and squealing. Her voice cracking as she writhes around the stage in her skin-tight black mini-dress and calf-length boots. Caressing the mic like she wants to fellate it. Wrapping her pale thighs round the stand. Rubbing up against it. She teases her audience like an exotic dancer - following the shape of her huge breasts with slender fingers, tickling her hand down over her belly until you think she's going to touch her self right down there between her thighs, then suddenly spinning round and moving her hips in time with the grinding drum beat.
****
I'd love to hear feedback, either here or via email. What did you like about the story? What didn't you like so much about it?
rs
[Edited by Roger Simian on 01-07-2001 at 03:11 PM]
http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=5473
****
The energy in the room is electric. As I push through the crowd, I begin to realise why. Up there on the stage three sexy, lithe, young women are strutting around in tight dresses, thrashing madly at their instruments, hair flying in every direction, as the goatee-bearded drummer batters his drums like a maniac. The guitarist and bass-player are reasonably pretty - one blonde, the other crazy-red - but it's the singer that stops me in my tracks. She looks so striking out here in sunny California that I just can't take my eyes off her. She's gorgeous. Sullen and pale, with shiny crow-black bangs and smudged crimson lipstick - like a 1920s flapper-girl in some Parisian house of ill-repute.
I push my way through the crowd, feeling strangely drawn.
The woman clutches at the mic-stand, closes her eyes tight and yells. The way she screams sends shivers right down my spine. Panting and squealing. Her voice cracking as she writhes around the stage in her skin-tight black mini-dress and calf-length boots. Caressing the mic like she wants to fellate it. Wrapping her pale thighs round the stand. Rubbing up against it. She teases her audience like an exotic dancer - following the shape of her huge breasts with slender fingers, tickling her hand down over her belly until you think she's going to touch her self right down there between her thighs, then suddenly spinning round and moving her hips in time with the grinding drum beat.
****
I'd love to hear feedback, either here or via email. What did you like about the story? What didn't you like so much about it?
rs
[Edited by Roger Simian on 01-07-2001 at 03:11 PM]