1 comments/ 11542 views/ 6 favorites Bourgogne By: RichardDickensAlcock Notice from the author: This is my first subission to Literotica. Please leave me a comment and vote for me if you can. Always open to some criticism, peer support, a compliment, or a joke! All characters involved in sexual situations in this story are are 18+ ***** Ever since I can remember I've been able to sing. But although it was always there I never understood where the talent came from. I don't even remember when I sang for the first time and although I enjoy music, I wouldn't say I have a passion for it. I'm a lazy guy and mostly used my talent to pay the bills. My name is Mark Rose and I am thirty five years old. I'm your average looking guy; slim, about 5'9, long dark brown hair. Like I said, because I didn't really want to work in music I never bothered to even take a course in music or learn an instrument. My talent was discovered early on when I kept getting cast in singing parts for plays in school. I thought that anyone could do it. Not being the smartest guy, it actually took me a while to catch on to why they always wanted me for singing parts. Once I discovered I could not only carry a tune, but as good as some people on the radio as my all of my friends attested, I knew I was destined to be a singer; for better or worse. I never bothered with college opting to instead travel to the city of Chicago from the suburb in Illinois where I was born. In the beginning I got by mostly busking on street corners, in clubs in Old Town, and on subways; mostly the Jackson red and blue lines. My long tressed hair and dreams ruffled under and over the windy city. The only thing I had to worry about was getting a good spot to work from every day. I have to admit that I did alright because I did not have high standards and could manage living in dirty motels, hostels, on couches, with nutty groupies, and boarding houses. All I did when I was down and ut was purchase popular song books, print out popular music lyrics at the public library, and commit lyrics to memory. I pretty soon developed my own system where I could memorize lyrics very quickly. Being a people person by nature it made me proud to be able to relieve the people of Chicago from the strain and stress of their worries with some live entertainment. Being a singer is one of the easiest jobs in the world. The girls like you, you make friends effortlessly, and you always meet people to help you get whatever you need. All a singer has to do is memorize a few songs and learn to carry himself well on a stage. Being an average looking guy I was able to clean up fine when I had to, buy a tux or a suit when I needed them, get my hair cut when it got too long! Through the years I began getting better and better as my brain became an encyclopedia of lyrics; from crooning, to popular music, to classic rock, to folk, to show tunes, to country. I tried my hand at classic opera once; making adjustments to my voice. I was met with smiles and bills pouring into my guitar case. Because I hated sharing profits with a guitarist or a band I mostly just sang tunes by myself, or sang with an old electric guitar. I would plug it into a hollow amplifier with the actual stings streaming out of a tiny boom box hidden inside. I knew other musicians and got them to record the strings for my songs. I suppose I should have at least learned to play a guitar, and I tried. But like I said, I just didn't have the patience. Why God had blessed me with a seemingly unconfined singing talent was a complete mystery to me. As the years went by I was discovered by an agent who booked me to sing in bars, country clubs, hotels, yes weddings too. The problem was that, as usual, I hated the part where money was cut. Sometimes equally among all musicians. Plus the usual percentage for my manager Elvis Brown; that's his freakin'name. Plus separate fees for my attorney when I needed him. The one thing about me aside from being lazy has always been my bad temper. I've had my share of fights, overwhelmingly losing almost all. A private lawyer's phone number is a good thing to have when you're stuck in jail with bruised ribs, a broken nose, or swollen cheek. As I approached my early thirties I had done my share of travelling and had my adventures, some of which involved flirting with the darker side of life. But despite my travelling I belonged to Chicago. I eventually married an aspiring actress slash waitress in Chicago and had two kids. I wasn't that into partying so my voice and appearance remained youthful. By that time I was a regular on cruises and upscale hotels, but my wife got tired of picking me up and seeing me off at the airport. I never got that recording contract that would allow me to finally retire from D List show business. I didn't really want to become well known; it was too late by then anyway. But I was willing to put up with the plague of being famous if there was a lucrative record contract to go along with it. When it never arrived I wasn't too disappointed, the wife however was another story. Having once worshipped me as the next...I don't want to even say his name. I am most often compared to this singer for God know why! Anyway, she divorced me when my boat never sailed in and married another musician leaving me high and dry. Because I married her when I was still young and dumb she took all of my money and my kids. Not even my lawyer and friend could do much for me in this area. I decided to drink myself into oblivion in a rental studio apartment living off of whatever was left in the bank. But in spite of it all I always compared myself to a wolf. I rolled with the punches and lived life to the fullest with nothing but persistence. I loved Chicago, and I believe the city loved me back. After a time I even busked again when I had to because it gave me pleasure to bring people healthy entertainment. I went in and out of depression and playing on the streets was sort of therapy for me. I began writing my first songs during this time and started reinventing myself a bit. But in the end times were rough. My drinking problem caught up with me and I lost several jobs for being drunk on stage. I thought my life was over. I really couldn't do anything else. What would become of Mark Rose? And this is where this story really begins. On a winter afternoon on one of the snowiest, coldest days in Chicago's history I lay face down on my couch in my crap apartment and my phone rang. Being semi intoxicated I bolted up hurrying to pick it up hoping it was one of my kids. I was sure their new father was providing for them well. If not with his money then with mine for sure. "Hullo..." "Mark??" "Yeah." "This is Elvis Brown...you off probation from that fight where you knocked out the drummer because you thought he was getting ahead of the song?? Can you travel, Mark?" "No, No. Forget it Elvis!" "I think I found you something my friend. You didn't burn every bridge, apparently. You sold a demo when you were out busking last spring before your arrest. This guy wants you to go New Orleans. A possible recording contract you lucky man!" "What kind of music?" "Well they're right for you, I think. They liked your voice so much that they want to try you out." "They are offering three grand for you to go there. Apparently they were struck by your act and graciousness, and dug your demo. When they asked to possibly sign you they said you gave them my information. They also said you look like their last guy." "Shit! I did that? I was probably drunk!" I held my face and head in my left palm, still able to feel the pinch and markings of couch fabric patterns on my face. I held the receiver with my right hand and practically heard Elvis rolling on the floor laughing. "Elvis...stop. You know I don't work with bands." "Well yeah, of course...I was probably drunk he says! But I think you will like these people. Their front man just died." "Well, who are they?" I said taking a final swig from a stale can of beer. "Their band is called..." He paused unable to pronounce. "B o u r g o g n e. It means Burgundy in English. Their music is kind of folkie and they come from old money. They want you to go out to Louisiana." "Their singer got a sudden heart attack at thirty-two and they thought they were through. They like your style and if it doesn't work out you just take the money and come back home." "OK, so where do I have to go." "New Orleans, bro. You can get the fuck out of the Chicago winter you've been hiding in and stop busking for pennies on the street, Mark." Chapter 2 Since I can never sleep in flight I tried watching a movie I bought at the airport on my laptop. But it only pissed me off. I find the film industry offensive. Have you ever noticed that when you play a DVD that it starts to actually threaten you? Now I'm going to go to jail or get fined for watching a movie. Then they make you endure previews before a menu appears. Then the same threat again in different languages. You cannot fast forward! Instead I decided to listen to Bourgogne. Their music was folky when it came to their ballads, but their other songs were more folk-rock than anything else. I felt an inner connection with them having sung my fair share of folk music and having loved it. I exited the airport after a two hour first class flight to New Orleans, a city I had before visited for different reasons. I could catch the scent of the streets. I took off my coat and jacket tasting the air as it soared into my lungs. It was like the town had burped in my face and I didn't mind at all! I soaked in a mixture of beer, beaches, cologne, absinthe, Creole, Cajun food, and Marti Gras sex in the air. It was a radiant town. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address. I had done my research on "Bourgogne" while still on the plane. They had gone from complete unknowns to winning music's highest award for two consecutive albums. The original founder and co songwriter of the band was a man named Laurent Chariere. Apparently Laurent had been a lover of New Orleans Jazz and Blues. "Burgundy Street Blues" by George Lewis was his favorite song. Bourgogne means Burgundy. The clever dead dude had named his band for the song! My cab stopped just outside a large house. There was the band spread out and waiting for me on the sidewalk smoking cigarettes, along with my manager. There were two of them, and a strikingly beautiful young girl. "Mark, come here" Said my manager rushing to me as I finished paying the cab driver. The oldest looking one among them tipped the driver and told me to greet everyone after shaking my hand. He humbly introduced himself as Hunter. I recognized him right away. This man was a legendary banjo player every folkie had heard about. I never imagined he was in this band but it began making sense to me. The driver and Hunter began to pull my suitcases from the trunk and an aid took them and followed Hunter toward the house. By this time I was glad I had come to New Orleans. I would get to play in a band with one of the best ever. "I'll bet you didn't expect to see me here did you, heh?" Elvis said welcoming me to New Orleans, giving me one of his bear hugs, ruining the moment. "You met Hunter who plays banjo. He is a real virtuoso and the heart of the band." "This is the Brayden; guitarist, pianist, harmonica, and songwriter. And this is Hunter's beautiful daughter Sophia who just got back from college in California. She studies photography in UCLA. She just flew in to celebrate her twenty first birthday." God, she was beautiful! Apparently Hunter who was now divorced had once been married to a model from Greece. Although her father and Brayden had blonde hair and blue eyes, she was extremely thin, pale, tall, with black hair and almond colored eyes behind full long black eyelashes and bangs. Sophia wore a designer flower patterned denim skirt with frayed edges, a blue silk blouse that tightly outlined her small oval breasts, and a wide brimmed white Italian summer hat. She truly looked like a young model. "Nice to meet you Brayden!" I said shaking his hand first, desperately wanting to be introduced to Sophia. His grip was strong and he kept shaking my hand. I know what you are thinking but I can hide my emotions well. The man was completely unaware of what I was thinking. I took her in all the while keeping both of my eyes on mostly him. I assumed greeting a stranger being the current man in charge since their ex front man Laurent had died was unpleasant for him. Maybe he hated that if I got the gig I would probably assume leadership of the band. I gave the matter little importance or thought. When he turned around anxious to get inside the house away from the hot weather I turned to Sophia. I unabashedly looked down from Sophia's carefully pedicured indigo toenails poking through her gold glitter PVC thong designer Maui sandals, to her thin but lean calves, knees, and thighs. "I'm over here!" She said smiling. I took her face in and locked eyes with her for the first time. She had a milky complexion, mature facial features, a very tender voice, and her eyes beamed with life. It was one of those rare moments when you can see part of yourself in a woman. I said my name and told her I was pleased to meet her as I noticed her glittery lip gloss. We shook hands and I felt her get nervous before whispering welcome to me and drifting off like a friendly apparition. Walking behind them beside my manager Elvis noticed I was clearly taken by Sophia. "Don't fuck this up, Mark. Hunter's the one that found you and recommended you to Brayden. Don't fuck Hunter's daughter!!" He said under his breath while glaring at me. "Just cool it, Elvis..." "Just cool it!! You wanna' go back to Chicago, you idiot!" "Relax. You think I would throw a chance like this in the garbage?" "OK Mark. That's more like it." Chapter 3 Once inside their large house I became impressed at how my new friends lived here in New Orleans. A twinge of regret in my stomach for what I could have had had I worked harder. The house was like something out of a music television channel. It was teeming with rare paintings, servants, mementos, platinum records, and all sorts of awards and collector's items from different parts of the world. Brayden showed me the guest room where Hunter had left my baggage. I took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes. I was told by a helper to meet the rest of them in the recording studio by the pool. When I stumbled inside and they all stared, I could tell that perhaps they weren't too impressed. I had brought a cold with me to New Orleans and hadn't seen domesticity for a while. We sat around each other and got down to business. They began playing songs for me from their yet to be released album. They had only begun recording a few; one song in particular was very catchy. Hunter and Brayden explained that they were desperate and did not want to let their fans down. The new guy had to be a perfect fit. Hunter had been looking for a new record label in Chicago and caught my act while I busked in the Washington blue line platform during rush hours. Apparently the label was right outside and when he said he needed new talent they pointed me out. Being able to switch gears from rock 'n' roll, to blues, to country depending on the mood was a rare talent. They were intending on reaching out to me sooner or later if he wasn't interested. I sensed Brayden wasn't keen on retaining me, saying that they were trying out some other guys. I was at the point of getting up, thanking them, and leaving when Sophia walked through the doors and said hello. As I rose I said I wanted to speak to my manager but Sophia's presence had a strange calming effect on my mood. "Just give it a try Mark!" My manager kept insisting after a discussion with him in a corner of the room. Normally I would have left. I could sense animosity brewing between me and Brayden. I overheard them talking as well. They were saying things along the lines that I had never really been a signed artist, that I had a bad attitude, that I didn't have the talent to front a band. Deciding to look on the bright side I walked toward them and praised them for their last two albums. They were impressed that I knew about them; not Hunter because the man was a legend. They had won music's top award twice, but their fan base was mostly Europe. Although they were huge in Europe and had a tiny following in Canada they were far from mainstream. I asked them to show me the lyrics for their new album and tell me what they wanted me to sing. I told them we might as well put our cards on the table. Brayden beckoned me into the vocal booth and handed me some sheets of lyrics. It was a song called "A Brand New Man". Within a few minutes of reading I had the lyrics down pat. "OK, I got it," I said to Brayden and led him out of the booth smiling kindly. "Let's see what I can do with this." My self esteem was not at its best but I always had confidence in my voice. Although their attitude caused me to doubt myself I knew for a fact I could sing; like knowing how to ride a bike. I snapped on their studio headphones and when I was wired in gave them the signal to begin. Within seconds I began hearing what had already been recorded and recognized this song as the one that stood out to me earlier. It was a slow folk song and easy for a singer of my scope to tackle. I began to sing in tune with the rest of the track. Pretty soon I realized that the magic never left. As I looked out through the pane they were all smiling at me, especially Sophia. I began singing the song to her for a while. I could tell that she was getting drawn in. In a way my voice never sounded better. As afternoon turned into evening they had enough vocal takes. My manager, Sophia, and I watched Hunter and Brayden from the control room as they played inside the live booth of the recording studio. They kept arguing endlessly over the strings and keys. Elvis kept patting me on the back and smiling but I had different thoughts. I was going to tell them to trash it. I kept remembering that disagreements that are inevitable when playing with a band. I got up and looked at my manager but he received a phone call from Chicago. He stopped me by motioning me with his index finger and stepped outside closing the door. He left me alone with Sophia inside the control room. "Are you OK? I really like the way you sing," She said. "Yeah, it seems your dad and Brayden can't agree on something Sophia." "Yes, yes...I know. It blows. Brayden can be such a cocksucker!" Being more sexually experienced than her, the way she said that word threw me completely off. I casually looked at her pale legs as she sat back lifting her lovely sandaled feet up against an amp. She noticed my eyes on her legs but didn't seem to mind at all. My manager came back in the room and asked if everything was OK. I nodded. Somehow listening to this twenty one year old beauty say the word "cocksucker" was making my head spin. To hear such a dirty word coming from Sophia's lips made me want to fuck her in every possible position. Unconsciously I just took the gig to see more of her. That evening my manager told me he had to get back to Chicago and that my first installment was already in my bank account. As we recorded more songs for the album the next day Sophia hung around the studio with us the entire time. The following day she wore these designer black jeans, black high heels, and a tucked in over sized pink tee shirt with the name of an indie band on it, her black hair pouring over her delicate shoulders. Her jeans were so stretched out that when she turned around I could practically see a cleavage furrow outlining her cute derriere. Bourgogne The heels made her body look absolutely gorgeous, Sophia caught me staring at her ass several times and smiled at me whenever my eyes met her's. I noticed her sensual looks back at me behind her beautiful raven bangs. Brayden and Hunter loved me by the end of our second recording session and decided to officially sign me. They all saw me as the savior of Bourgogne. But all I could think about was fucking Sophia. Before the night ended she announced that she was going to sleep and gave us all a cuddle. I could feel the shape and firmness of her small oval tits against my body holding her close as I said thank you to her. We were hard at work on the album for the next few days and I was told that Sophia was away on a road trip with cousins and would be back by Sunday morning. Although it wasn't the same without her I was working harder than I had in a long time. I was getting used to their house, to eating whole meals again, early morning swims in their pool, getting sober again. They had small gatherings of people over at night and I was introduced to some attractive women, but my mind was on Sophia. On her eyes that were so full of life. I almost began to believe that she was some kind of Greek sun goddess. Brayden and Hunter enjoyed rising early to record so that we could have breakfast together. Then there was a long break and in the evening we all prepped for the next day. But the morning Sophia returned she began to incessantly flirt with me. She had just gotten back and was wearing faded denim short shorts, cute bubble gum colored plimsolls with no socks, and a sexy ripped back white crop top; her creamy navel was amazingly sexy. I noticed her areolas under the material because she wasn't wearing a bra. Sophia was not the kind of girl that worked out. Sophia's body was quite thin but not flawless which made it even more attractive because it was sensual. At her age women don't really have to work out. Again we hung out in the control room as Hunter and Brayden argued. She snuck a bottle of wine in from the studio's lounge. Sophia bought the open bottle of French wine to her lips and drank some. When she passed it I felt the anxiety die away as the tangy fluid entered my system relaxing my recovering-alchy brain. We sat in a back couch as a technician began mixing my vocals with their instruments. Sophia put her arms around me and sat across the couch on my lap. I began taking the initiative rubbing her smooth stomach, navel, and her velvety legs as I held her in my arms. We loved some of the same bands and began to sing a few songs together in the background as we got drunk. The technician working there could have cared less but it wouldn't have mattered as we were out of sight. Before long we were making out on the couch. We took turns letting our tongues twirl, touch, and lick. I let her tongue inside my mouth for a while before pushing her body against mine as I probed into hers. Our saliva mixing as I slipped my hand inside her crop top scooping up a bra less breast. After a while of shamelessly fondling her bare tits, fingering her pussy under the ridges of her denim short shorts, and caressing her ass by slipping my hands under the waistband of her shorts and over a lacy thong she was wearing underneath, she stopped me and said we couldn't do this right now. I understood what she meant. There was a huge age difference and her father had helped to bring me here. I insisted that the songs were coming along. That maybe one day I would be running the show and not Brayden, but she kept her distance until the next day. Sophia was like a prowling house cat; or rather sex kitten. She had a tendency to drift away and appear suddenly and unexpectedly. Sophia knew our schedule after a few weeks and she would wander in and out; helping out, ordering supplies, ordering food, making suggestions, making phone calls and taking photographs of us working on the record. She kept her distance but there was so much fire growing between her and myself. We gave each other the longest most penetrating love stares across rooms when nobody was looking. Hunter and Brayden were oblivious to our thing. They seemed pretty much blind to everything except getting their record out as soon as humanly possible. One day I walked into the control room drinking a glass of ginger ale to soothe my throat expecting a chat with the sound engineer. I needed to save my voice and was resentfully given two days off by the others. I entered the control room and there she was looking sexier than ever. Sohpia wore torn up low rider blue jeans and that same over sized pink tee shirt of one of her favorite indie bands. Sophia looked trashy but I sort of liked that about her. She looked like your typical rocker chick but hotter than any groupie that I had ever laid my eyes on. Brayden and Hunter began playing guitar and banjo respectively in the live room of the recording studio; all lights were dimmed more than usual. The technician had not arrived; his car was usually parked outside. They had no idea we were in there watching them. We could hear them but they couldn't hear us. I didn't say where I was going so maybe they would assume I went for a stroll on Burbon Street. "Hi," I said to Sophia. "Hi yourself," She said walking up to me provocatively and kissing my mouth; her mouth tasted and smelled of another bottle of French red wine. We tasted each other and she took a step back and looked into my eyes hard. "I thought you said we couldn't do any of that anymore?" Sophia just ignored me and continued flaunting her body at me. "God, they don't know we are here," She said acting giggly and bubbly. "Where's the technician?" I asked. "Hmmmm. I told him we were under budget until the first of the month; which is three days from now." "Are we?" "Yup." Brayden and Hunter were sitting across from each other in the live room synchronizing their instruments and bantering playfully. I sat on a large leather chair meant for the sound engineer looking sideways at Sophia who was leaning into a side control panel. Her panties visible just under her navel as her two thumbs pushed front pockets and her belt down, slipping her torn up jeans even lower. I looked on in lust at her smooth tummy and navel. She then turned around and I could see her panty strings and the bulge of her firm cheeks. As she looked though a rolodex perpetuating her seduction I couldn't take it anymore. I got up sticking middle and index fingers in my mouth to wet them. I lowered her bottoms in a firm grip with my left hand, and shoved my fingers up both her pussy and her ass as far I could. I kept finger fucking her as Hunter and Brayden played in the live room, oblivious to us. I kept fingering her holes slowly, or quickly, or harshly depending on how her body reacted, stopping when I remembered where we were. After making sure the others weren't onto us I resumed, kneeling down, giving her left ass cheek a series of kisses. "Is that what you wanted little hussy?" I said, rising up with my fingers still inside her. Leaving her bottoms halfway down her ass I tugged her hair back hard with my left hand feeling her holes dilating and pulsating on the girth of my fingers. She nodded with her back turned to me, her palms stiff against the panel and her head hunched down. I kept fingering her ass and pussy as her plump cheeks wriggled a little against my knuckles. I must have continued for two minutes straight because her pulled down panties were getting soaked under my hand. I pulled my fingers out of both holes and kissed her on the mouth. I wanted to taste the raw wetness of it. I wanted as much of her saliva on me as possible as I fondled her bare ass cheeks with both hands. My stubble rubbed against her silky chin as I kissed her neck and returned to her mouth tasting wine on her red tinged tongue. "Come here!" I violently yanked Sophia's pulled-down panties and jeans making her take three steps toward me as I sat on the chair and began undressing. She slowly pulled her panties and jeans down posing for me with a dim-witted look on her face as I watched her from the chair. Sophia approached in just the pink tee shirt that she always wore. She strapped her sandals back on complaining about the cold floor and straddled me on the chair. As I got her tee shirt off I felt the urge to sniff it. Her secretions on the fabric made it sacred to me. I wanted to keep it with me forever. Sophia moaned as I lowered her bra cups exposing her small and perfectly symmetrical breasts. I began nursing on them, rubbing, slapping, kissing, and licking them. "I want to taste your milk!" I kept repeating as I bit and suckled on the flesh of her tender nipples able to feel her mammary pores against my wet tongue. With my right hand I pulled my erection and lined my cockhead against her slit, parting past it. As I pushed it in she opened her mouth. "Yeah Sophia..." I kept repeating. Roaring I offered her both of my hands so she could hold on with her's. She kept gasping and looking down as I broke her in giving her body a few hard thrusts, and ripping deeper into her. Her pussy felt like a ripe peach bursting under the hardness of my hard shaft. Bursting, sheathing my hardness. The drops of her fruit on my cock. I held her up with my hand on her ass; the ridge of my ring finger spread across her asshole as we began building momentum. She rode me on that chair and we began fucking as her father and Brayden jammed in the room next to ours. Sophia moaned out. I couldn't help spanking her pale ass as she began bouncing furiously on my lap in just her sandals and sweaty rolled down bra. I ran my hands up and down her back and ass. Both of Sophia's breasts began rocking up and down; her erect nipples poking out. "Wanna' fuck you from behind baby," I said. Not wanting her to feel the cold floor I led my Greek sun goddess by the hand to the couch where we shared our first kiss. I stood as she got on all fours on the couch with her back to me. Watching her creamy back arch in the dim light I began fucking her again, began thrusting inside of her holding onto her hips, spanking her ass, humping her as droplets of sweat poured from me onto her long back. Her black mane of hair covered her face, her pale plump ass cheeks were being crushed against my sweaty pelvis with every thrust. The flesh on her ass rippling as I sunk cock into her again and again, and again making Sophia my new woman after having been without one for so long. I wanted desperately to paint her womb from the inside with my semen and consummate this act of savage love. Rivulets of her fresh sweat ran down her glistening back to her ass. Staring at her long sensual back, I spat across it and spanked her tight ass hard. After a while I held onto her shoulders for more control, her warm fluids running down my testicles. I unclasped what remained of her bra tossing it somewhere behind the couch. I cupped both of Sophia's tits raising her up slowly against my chest. "I'm gonna' come Sophia. Do you want my come in you?" I mumbled between grunts. "You can come wherever you want...I'm already, ohhh, ahhh, mmm, pregnant with Laurent's child. I found out on my trip. I think I missed my period, Oooh, ahh baby, don't stop, fuckk me. Fuck my pussy." "So, you like singers?" "Yes, nobody knows. Not even, ohhh, ahh, my father." "You little music bitch." "...I can't be ohhhh, ahhhh, mmmm, sure without a pregnancy test." "If you weren't pregnant you will be, you little ditz!" I pulled out of her and lay her on her back on the couch. I entered her for a third time feeling her wrap her legs around my lower torso. Her heels dinting my cheeks, her sandals somehow still strapped onto her feet. I pulled them back and apart as I kept plowing her. She had beautiful lean legs and I began licking them up and down as I fucked her like a wild man in that recording studio. With that I began to feel her orgasm build. Her nose shriveled up cutely and then her whole jaw tensed. She closed her eyes tightly, her entire face flushing, as she let out a throaty cry of satisfaction. I waited a little after she came, just looking at her body below me as she enjoyed her orgasm and regrouped. Then I propped one of her beautiful legs up on my chest and fucked her faster and harder, my scrotum slapping against her ass, the flesh on her thighs vibrating with the impacts. I pulled that leg back and high and kept banging away as I leaned in on her, making out with her deeply, looking lovingly into her eyes. I looked her straight in the eyes as I prepared to release myself into her, my testicles hardening. I came so hard into Sophia that I felt my prostate gland spasm in my ass as semen passed through it. Hot jets of white, viscous ejaculate flooding into her pussy. A hard orgasm cutting deep into me making my whole body shiver as more streams of hot semen shot into her. We lay together spent, drained, dehydrated. Two bodies soaked in sweat. Senses overloaded in a cocktail of raw emotion, love and sex. I know how this story ends, but will let you guys decide...