1 comments/ 9535 views/ 0 favorites Phantasy By: Christopher Tracy Prologue She pushed him down onto the bed, giggling in her drunkenness. He lay back, waiting for the inevitable, but she was determined to spin out the moment. She began to gyrate to the soundtrack in her head, running her hands over her body, cupping her breasts, slipping one hand inside the waistband of a tiny denim skirt that seemed to consist of little more than the waistband. Three fingers stretched the lace and elastic as they moved inside her expensive underwear, over the neatly trimmed strip of pubic hair, searching out the source of the growing heat therein. She teased him and toyed with herself for a couple of minutes, before turning her attention to her clothing. The black asymmetrical top came off first, peeled slowly over her head to reveal a beautiful black lace bra. She could tell from the growing swell in his jeans that the bra was worth every penny she had paid for it. She danced for a few more minutes, turning her back on him to unhook the delicate clasp. She slowly pulled the bra off first one shoulder, then the other, before crossing her arms and turning to face him again. She knelt over him, revealing her breasts as she started to caress the rising swell between his legs. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, his breathing becoming quicker and quicker. She teased down the zip and with an expert touch flicked open the button, pulling the opening apart. She ran her long, polished nails up and down the bare flesh; it sent shivers up his spine that were barely controllable. Once again she turned her back on him, unzipping the miniscule denim skirt and letting it slide down her long legs. She slipped a hand inside the black panties and begin to play with herself, letting the pangs of pleasure she was giving herself be displayed in a more and more audible style, her fingers working against her hot, swollen clitoris. She closed her eyes as the constant endeavours of her fingers began to yield tangible results with the first surfacing of the orgasmic rush. She had waited for this moment for a long time, the dinner date had been torture, the long taxi ride back unbearable as they made out in the back - she had wanted to go down on him there and then - so it was no surprise that she could feel herself about to come. She was happy with that, multiple orgasms (the louder and more often the better) were her specialty. She toyed with her nipples using her free hand, pinching them hard between polished nails. As the rush threatened to take over, she forced herself to stop. She stepped out of her panties, tossing them to one side, before turning round to face him again. The look on his face told her that it was a job well done, but the erection in his right hand told the whole story. In truth, the sex that followed was more workmanlike than spectacular, but they both enjoyed it. But it was not the memory of the sex that stayed with Christian Shepherd for so long, it was the show that she put on for him and the effect that it had on him. He stayed awake for a long time after the sex thinking about it. Young Chris had aspirations of being a musician. He was 20 years old, two years into a four-year degree course of Music Production and Techniques at university in Sheffield. He had formed and disbanded several bands in an attempt to both improve and display his technique (which, as his tutors would admit but only behind his back, was already bordering on the prodigious) but was looking for that hook, that something extra which would propel his band beyond the ordinary. Nothing if not a pragmatist, Chris knew that the special 'extra something' would need to be controversial. What the starry-eyed young sociology student had done that night, far more than the best sex of his life that she imagined it had been in her wine-fuelled state, was sow the seed in his mind of his next project. Chapter 1 The university notice board in front of Emma James carried one note that caught her interest. She'd actually been looking for details of the aquacise class at the local gym and swimming pool, but it was the advert looking for singers and musicians that she kept coming back to. There was something in the tongue-in-cheek wording that held her imagination - "must have strong exhibitionist streak!" was one such example. She scanned through the rest of the advert looking for contact details and was surprised to see the name 'Chris Shepherd' at the bottom. She knew the name well enough; she'd once been taken to a gig of one of his previous bands at a nightclub and was taken by his presence onstage, yet when she bumped into him at the bar after she could not believe that the shy young man before her was the same person. Even then she quite fancied him, but as she was at the gig on a date there was little she could do. She copied the mobile number into her little Nokia. She thought that even if she didn't get a gig, she might well get laid. A voice calling to her brought her out of her reverie. Her best friend Zoe, whom she'd arranged to come and meet for lunch. She knew Zoe and Chris were at the same university and wondered if there was any chance of an introduction... In the end Zoe did not actually know Chris. Zoe was an Art & Design student and therefore in a completely different building, but Zoe knew of him and spoke glowingly while they took the five minute walk to the coffee shop, where they treated themselves to baguettes and cappuccino. Collapsing into two big armchairs in a quiet corner of the coffee shop away from the counter, the girls discussed Chris Shepherd - Christian, to give him his full name. Everyone knew he was a good musician, and he was always putting together bands and the general consensus was that sooner or later one of them would make it big. Emma rather fancied making it big, and if she could make it big with/for Chris then so much the better! Zoe egged her on to call Chris throughout lunch, not that she needed much egging on. Zoe knew that with her slim figure and blonde hair, Emma would completely wow Chris, as she did most men. When she did eventually call, they talked for a few minutes about music and stuff in general. He did actually remember her from the gig, which flattered her somewhat. She asked if they could meet up that night to discuss it further, as Chris was on his way to a lecture. He said that he was meeting some friends to watch some football match or other, but if she didn't mind being part of a crowd she was welcome to join. They arranged to meet at up later at a bar in the busy city centre. Zoe was slightly jealous, but then that was nothing new for her where Emma was concerned. Emma was tall, statuesque but slim with it, long blonde hair (which she often covered with a dark wig). Zoe was smaller, petite but at the same time more rounded than her friend with dark hair in a neat bob, and generally much less outgoing. Emma was a professional at the art of seduction, not an out and out flirt like some people she could mention, but she could be engaging and attentive, bright, intelligent and humorous. Zoe was generally a little in awe of her, and now that Emma had a date (of sorts) with a guy she had fancied from afar for some time, Zoe felt the green eyed monster stirring. They parted after lunch and a little window shopping with a promise that Emma would call later and let Zoe know how she'd got on, 'unless of course we're too busy' Emma said with a twinkle in her eye. Emma spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over what to wear. Should she go all out to pull him, or would that be too cheap? Should she go very casual, and convince him that she was earnest and sincere about being in a band? After all, her grandmother had been paying for first dance and then later also singing lessons while she was at school. When Emma went through a tomboy phase in secondary school her Grandma had then indulged her in guitar lessons, so Emma was confident that she could actually contribute something creative - she was not going along to be some dumb blonde stuck on stage to provide eye candy, like the girls in The Commitments. She had aspirations of stardom of her own, and if Christian Shepherd could help her realise them, then so much the better. With a couple of hours to go before meeting him, she started to get ready. In the end she'd settled on a denim skirt finishing just above the knee - tight around her bum but not overtly sexy. This would be paired with a tight white vest top with spaghetti straps. She had an inkling from her two conversations that Chris would be somewhat conservative, so in case things got that far she selected white undies, very pretty and feminine. She loved that she could give the illusion of good girl when she wanted to. In the shower, she thought about being in a band and the accoutrements of stardom, the money, the clothes, the notoriety, but most of all the sex that that must surely attract. Emma lost her virginity at sixteen to an inexperienced boy, fooling him into taking her to bed by lying about her age. By seventeen she had tired of the unimaginative fumblings of adolescent boys, and shortly after she'd fallen head over heels in love with a girl who pulled her in a nightclub. She'd never even thought of herself as remotely gay or even bi-sexual, but the sexiness and sheer effrontery of the girl completely overwhelmed her. She remembered fondly the girl - her name was Jenny - and their first meeting. Emma had been in a club in Chesterfield with some friends. She was celebrating her eighteenth birthday a few days earlier (surprising the bouncers, who she'd been flirting with regularly for at least a year before) and by the time they reached the club there were only a few of the original party left, and they were all very drunk. She been kissing some guy earlier and hoped that she might bump into him in the club. As she scanned the dance floor, Jenny had caught her eye and held it for several long moments. Emma felt as if the girl was looking right into her. She was tall, like Emma, with cascading brown curls and an incredibly curvaceous figure. Moments later, Jenny was by Emma's side. She didn't say hi, but she beamed a huge smile that instantly put Emma at ease. She leaned in close, so that Emma could see down the girl's low cut top, before the girl said, 'ever had sex in the toilet here?' Emma pulled back, but the girl was smiling, so she didn't take the question too seriously. 'No', she laughed, 'but it is my eighteenth birthday so maybe I'll get lucky yet!' The girl laughed. 'My name's Jenny. I remember my eighteenth, even though it was five years ago now. Let me get you a drink for your birthday and we'll see how lucky you get!' Laughing, they made their way to the bar and ordered two huge cocktails, before retreating to a booth. Emma jumped in first with Jenny following her, sitting on Emma's right. She half turned to face Emma, folding a long left leg underneath herself, with her left hand on the back of the seat not far from Emma's head. They were sat in the booth for some time, laughing and joking, but Emma got the distinct impression that the Jenny's opening gambit said something about her true intentions. She thought about what it would be like to kiss another woman, and imagined it would be soft and inviting, not hard and aggressive like a boy. She kept stealing glances at Jenny's incredible cleavage, something Jenny noticed every time. Soon Jenny's right hand was on her knee, and Emma made no attempt to move it. Jenny steered the conversation round to sex, and asked if Emma was a virgin. Emma laughed. "No, of course not!" "Well, I wasn't sure, you look so innocent!" They both laughed. "Ever had sex with another girl?" Again, a strenuous denial from Emma. "But have you ever thought about it?" enquired Jenny. The question left Emma taken aback. "No," she whispered, "have you?" Jenny ignored her. "What do you imagine it would be like?" Emma took another long sip through her straw while she thought about her answer. "Well, I imagine it's different from sex with a boy, a lot slower and more intimate, do you know what I mean? I imagine that two girls take their time a lot more, spend longer on foreplay and stuff. Girls don't fall asleep after they've come!" They both laughed. "What else?" Jenny probed. "What do you think a girl feels like?" "I bet... I bet a girl is warm and soft when you touch her... I bet a girl would feel nice when you touch her." "What do you think it would be like for a girl to touch you?" Emma caught her breath for a moment after Jenny's question. "Girls touch themselves, so when a girl touches another girl they must know what they're doing... I mean, when you let a boy touch you, they need to be told what to do, then they still get it wrong... when you let them touch you, you know, down there, you're just about to come and they stop, or they change it, and you have to start again..." She was so carried away thinking about it, her eyes were closed, and it hardly registered when Jenny's hand moved up to the top of Emma's thigh, taking what little there was of Emma's dress with it. Jenny's voice, soft and assured, was so quiet that Emma had to lean closer to listen to her. She could smell Jenny's perfume and breathed it in deeply, and at first she was hardly aware that Jenny was talking again. "That's exactly right, Emma, when men touch you they hardly know what they're doing. Most of the time they just want to get inside you as fast as possible. Ever have an orgasm just from a cock being inside you? I know I haven't. Men just don't realise that women have other bits that needs to be worked on first." "Like your-" "Like your mind first Emma, men don't realise how horny women can get just from thinking about and talking about the right things. Isn't that right? Don't you feel just a little horny?" Emma was about to answer when, for the first time, she became aware of Jenny's hand. Rather than rest lightly on her knee, it was now tucked between Emma's thighs. Her tiny dress had ridden - or, rather, been pushed, right up, so looking down Emma could see the vee of her white panties, with Jenny's hands just millimetres away from the dampening material. They were sat behind a table, so if anyone looked at them it looked as though they were just two girlfriends enjoying a gossip over a cocktail. She tried to open her mouth to answer, but she was silenced as Jenny's feather-light touch closed the short distance to her panties. She became aware of Jenny's finger running lightly up and down the lips of her vagina, slowly and softly, and always falling short of her clitoris. A gentle, deliberate movement that caused Emma to stop breathing for a few seconds. Jenny said nothing for a while until Emma's breathing returned. Their eyes met, and Emma's lips formed into a wanting pout, but Jenny held back, holding the same considered movement. Emma's hands gripped the edge of the cushion. "A woman needs to be engaged first Emma, don't you agree? She needs to have her interest piqued. Once the mind is interested in sex, the body will follow." "Yes..." "You're so right, what you said about a woman understanding where another woman wants to be touched, do you know that? Like when you give oral sex to another woman, you know precisely where she wants to be licked, and where she doesn't. You know how fast, and for how long... even if you get it wrong at first you understand the signs and put it right straight away." Jenny's fingers worked the edge of the sodden material, gently pulling it aside and taking Emma's breath with it. Jenny paused for a split second before making the same motion directly onto Emma's pussy lips. Emma's nerve endings were screaming at the merciless teasing she was receiving. If Jenny knew exactly how a woman wanted to be touched, why the hell didn't she get on with it? "Foreplay is important too, you're right about that as well. For example, I could just work your clit now (she rubbed it briefly while saying it, causing Emma to moan and close her eyes) and bring you off straightaway, but wouldn't it be more fun to postpone it, wait for it, work for it a little?" She stopped rubbing Emma's clitoris, returning to the same luxurious strokes on the younger girl's pussy lips. As Emma become more and more excited, her vaginal lips were parting almost indiscernibly, and with each caress Jenny's fingers worked into the gap, just a fraction more each time. "I imagine that if you wanted to, you could come pretty much right now, and all we've done is talk about sex for a few minutes, with a few little touches thrown in. Am I right?" "Oh, hell, yes, I could-" "But that wouldn't be fun! Why rush it? And as you also pointed out, men are quite selfish, whereas I find women are altogether more altruistic. I could make you come right here and now, but what have you done for me?" "What do you want me to do?" "Now that's more like it. The first thing I want you to do then, is very, very slowly, very carefully, I want you to take off those soaking wet panties. Very carefully, so that you don't draw any attention." Emma gulped, but the mixture of alcohol, being close to her orgasm and Jenny's incredible sexuality left her so intoxicated she did not question it. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and, just as ordered, slid them down as far as her calves, before using the heels of her shoes to work them down the rest of the way. She stooped to pick them up, and then sat upright, beaming. "Well done that girl. Now, let me have them." Emma handed them over, slightly surprised. Jenny quickly stuffed them into her handbag. "My trophy!" she grinned. "Right, follow me." Thy eased themselves out of the booth, Emma conscious all the while that with one ill-judged move she would be displaying her wares to everyone. "I fancy a dance", Jenny explained. They bustled their way to the middle of the dance floor. By this time, the floor was shaking to deep R'n'B and hip-hop, and both girls felt like they could feel the bass throughout their body. The girls began to dance, working together, eventually grinding their bodies together to create quite a spectacle. Emma was faintly aware that a small clearing had been created around them on the dance floor and a few men were actually cheering them on. Jenny took the lead, positioning herself so that she had a leg between Emma's. As they started grinding to the music, Emma realised she'd done it on purpose, her clit coming directly into contact with Jenny's thigh every few seconds. The movements quickly become unbearable for Emma, she was almost literally crying out for Jenny to finish her off. They continued in that vein for several more minutes, the juices on Jenny's leg eventually becoming visible under the hot lights. She leant into Emma, her mouth so close to Emma's ear that her tongue was practically inside it. "Are you ready for that visit to the toilet then?" She breathed. The pleading look in Emma's eyes was answer enough. She took the younger girl's hand and led her through the cheering male audience. They fought their way through to the toilets. Once inside, Jenny pushed open a cubicle door, forcing Emma in before locking it behind them. Jenny collapsed onto the seat, hoisting up her skirt before pulling Emma down so she was sitting astride her. Their mouths met, a kiss that was not at all soft and tender as Emma imagined, but urgent and passionate. Their tongues touched and Emma was electrified at the feeling. They kissed for several minutes before Jenny pushed her away. "Right, this is your chance to do something for me," she said with a wicked glint in her eye. Emma took the hint, sliding purposefully down Jenny's lap and going gracefully down on all fours. Emma nibbled at Jenny's knees, kissing them, before rubbing her hands up Jenny's thighs and making sure that her skirt was firmly up around her waist. She worked little butterfly kisses up the inside of both of Jenny's thighs, hesitating slightly upon reaching the tight red lace stretched across Jenny's pubic mound. She planted one or two tentative kisses on the material and then, emboldened, started to run her tongue up and down the well-defined outline of Jenny's labia. Jenny thrust her groin forward into Emma's face. More importantly, she thrust it up, off the seat, and the inference was clear; take them off, please. Phantasy Emma did the silent bidding, sliding them slowly down Jenny's long, tanned legs. She repeated the trick with the butterfly kisses, getting only so far before an unceremonious grab at Emma's hair forced her to get to the point rather more quickly. Although she was unused to seeing another woman up so close, she took to it very quickly, her tongue working ably in and out of Jenny's hot, wet hole. When she sensed that the time was right, she settled on the clitoris, taking it between her lips, rolling it around, teasing it with the very tip of her tongue. She fell into a rhythm, which she gauged correctly by listening to the rise and fall of Jenny's breathing. She took heed of Jenny's sage words earlier, keeping the same rhythm, the same pace, in the same place. Jenny took two fistfuls of Emma's beautiful blonde hair and pulled her close. Emma responded by increasing the pressure on the clitoris, driving Jenny over the edge. She threw back her head and squealed, her hips bucking in an uncoordinated way as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to stifle a full-blown scream. She pushed Emma's beaming face away while she recovered her breath. Emma smiled a smug sort of smile, feeling very proud of herself. That smug look was more than Jenny could stand. She sprang to her feet, pulling Emma up with her. She spun Emma around, forcing her up against the cubicle wall, face first. Taking a handful of hair she pulled Emma's head back, leaving her neck exposed. Emma cringed, for her neck really was her weak spot - she'd be reduced to jelly after just a few kisses. Seeing Emma's eyes screwed up tight in quivering anticipation, Jenny took the plunge, holding the tip of her tongue rigid and running it lightly up and down the left side of Emma's neck. Emma moaned audibly and relaxed somewhat, using her arms to brace herself against the wall, legs shoulder width apart. Jenny planted firm kisses up and down Emma's neck, using her tongue more and more. She pulled Emma's head back even further so they could exchange deep French kisses. Emma felt a hand on her left breast, rubbing the already straining nipple through the flimsy material of her dress. Slowly, the hand worked its way down, rubbing Emma's aching pussy through the material. Emma's chest was heaving, her heart thundering at the feelings shooting through her body. Jenny broke away from the kisses and pushed Emma forward against the wall. Too late Emma realised what was happening, as the zip on the back of the dress was pulled down, and the silky dress disappeared from Emma's shoulders. She wasn't wearing a bra under the low cut dress, and as her knickers had long since been removed, she found herself standing in the cubicle with a woman she'd known for an hour wearing only her high heels and an ankle chain. Jenny spun her round again so she was facing the toilet, before pushing her head down and making her bend over it, in an inverted L shape. She kicked the inside of Emma's ankle lightly, forcing her legs appear. Jenny knelt down and buried her face in Emma's soaking pussy from behind, working two, then three, then finally four fingers frantically in and out of her hot, wet hole. She could feel how much she was stretching Emma's young pussy to the limit, could hear Emma's combined yelps of pain and pleasure. She changed tack, working Emma's clit with the whole length of her pierced tongue, and soon Emma was moaning, begging to be allowed to come, but Jenny kept holding back, teasing her. Soon Emma had had enough, and broke free of Jenny's grip. The two girls grappled for a few seconds, but soon settled on a position where they were both stood up and had access to each other's clitoris. They worked furiously at each other, fingers rubbing at engorged clitorises while tongues wrestled together. Emma put one high-heeled foot on the toilet seat, and with that Jenny found the perfect angle. Moments later, Emma screamed as her orgasm took hold, swiftly followed by Jenny's second. They took a few minutes to catch their breath; Emma sat astride Jenny on the toilet seat, enjoying a few long, luxurious kisses. Smiling, Emma stood up and retrieved her dress. They tried to make themselves look decent, before emerging from the cubicle to find they were in the men's toilet! Several men gave them envious looks, and it was all that the girls could do to scurry away, bowed heads failing to disguise that 'cat got the cream' smile that they both had. Emma's fingers worked energetically at her clitoris in the shower, directing the powerful water jet onto it with the other hand. She'd relieved the memory of that night many times in the couple of years since it had happened, and it never failed to produce the most amazing orgasm in her, and tonight was no exception. Her knees buckled when she came, and she had to settle for perching on the edge of the bath to finish herself off properly. An hour later, Emma was in a fifteen-minute taxi ride en route to her date. Her orgasm had given her quite a glow, and together with the hope of the forthcoming seduction she felt quite light-headed. She loved that feeling of anticipation, and quite intended to make sure they spent the night together. Chris was waiting for her outside the bar, and was very much the perfect gentleman. Although there were a bunch of his friends in the busy, old-fashioned pub, they found a couple of stools where they could talk in peace. They spent an enjoyable couple of hours first chatting in general over a couple of cocktail jugs, then discussing their various musical likes and dislikes, before attention turned to their actual reason for meeting. She even owned up to having singing, dancing and even some guitar lessons at the private school she went to as a child. Chris told her how he wanted to make it big, and how he was fed up of playing cover versions with a bunch of blokes who thought miserable was cool. He wanted excitement, controversy, sex appeal; he wanted the band to be a spectacle. Basically, you just want to have fun, Emma said, and Chris was forced to agree. The fun had gone out of music, wherever you looked there were identical manufactured pop bands or angst-ridden rockers, and he wanted something different. He outlined his plans for a real band, writing their own songs and playing their own instruments. He could play keyboards and guitar himself; his best friend James was also an able guitarist, and he had his eye on a drummer although curiously he wouldn't go any further on that subject. What he then wanted was a couple of girls to front the band, lively, vivacious types who would hold the audience's attention through their ability but also their sex appeal. Was she interested in that? Hell yes, was the resounding answer. Chris beamed as they clinked glasses to celebrate Emma's joining the band. She suggested they go out clubbing to celebrate ("you'll be able to see whether you think my dancing is any good", she teased), so they stumbled outside and hailed a taxi. Emma gave the name of a small club, known for playing soul and hip-hop and having an excellent atmosphere. They were ushered through the doors by the security men, who all seemed on first name terms with her. Chris looked around. The dance floor was circular, and right in the middle of the room. There was a bar to the left, with a row of sofas forming semi-private booths down the opposite side. The ceiling was low, adding to the acoustics, whilst the subdued lighting added to the atmosphere. They make their way through to the bar. "I'll get these," she said, pulling a purse from her jacket pocket. "Shall we start with something simple and go on to the beer after?" "Sure, whatever you want." "Cool. Let's make a night of it then!" She turned to the barman. "Two double tequilas and two bottles of Bud please!" Chris' eyes widened, he didn't realise they were going to make that sort of night of it. He had a class in the morning as well... "Bottoms up then!" she giggled, thrusting a glass and a bottle at him. Barely pausing, she downed the tequila with a minimum of fuss, the dragged him by the hand towards the floor. He managed to gulp down his tequila, causing him to wince as it burned his way down his throat, but he followed her nevertheless. She made it to the edge of the dance floor with him in tow until he hit the brakes. "Umm, Emma, there's a good reason why I don't want to front my own band, you know. I don't dance, or at least I don't dance well." "Don't worry about it, no-one here cares, that's why I come here. Just follow me!" "No really, when I dance it looks like a bunch of kittens trying to get out of a sack! Trust me, I'm only going to show you up. Why don't you show off your dancing - like you promised - and I'll hang about here and check you out." She pouted, but she gave in. "Make sure you don't take your eyes off me then!" she laughed. He didn't think that would be a problem, but he nodded anyway, pushing her gently off into the throng. But he was wrong. He watched her for a couple of minutes, and she was good. There was a heat that came from her, an exuberance mixed with a certain coquettishness, as her hair floated around her face and her groin moved to the deep bass that rolled over them. She was clearly lost in the music, dancing for herself but at the same time making sure there was plenty to hold an audience's attention. She was definitely what he was looking for. Men could not keep their eyes off her, and she was only wearing a simple but pretty outfit. But gazing around, he eyes alit upon another girl, dancing on a podium some distance behind Emma. She was smaller than Emma, a slightly curvier redhead, wearing a ruby red dress cut scandalously low at the front and tight around her gorgeous ass. She was a real show-woman - where everything Emma did seemed natural, everything the redhead did seemed calculated to five significant positions to flirt, titillate, and generally show off, and boy was she good at it. At first there was another girl on the raised dais with her, but when the redhead knew she held the attention of the men around her, the movements with the other girl became more and more suggestive. The other girl played along at first, but when the redhead grabbed her ass and drew her close until they were practically rutting against each other's thighs, the other girl drew away and then disappeared into the mob. The redhead shrugged and gyrated on her own for a moment, but was soon joined by two slim, athletic looking coloured men. She found herself in the middle of them, and clearly looked pleased at having new playmates. They drew closer, encouraged by the girl's smiles. The one in front of her put his hand on her hip and pulled her slightly closer. She responded by pulling him closer to her. The one behind put both his hands on her hips, and seconds later she backed her bum up into his groin, clearly rubbing against the beginnings of an erection. She was hot, very hot, and in that instant Chris thought he'd found the perfect partner for Emma to front the band. The record finished, to be replaced almost seamlessly by another. Emma had had enough of dancing on her own, and came to reclaim her beer from Chris, only to find him captivated by the redhead. She spun round to block his view of her. "So, what did you think? Is my dancing okay?" she enquired coyly. "Do I get the job?" "Your dancing is fantastic Emma, really I mean that... I was just wondering-" "Who the redhead is." "Well, since you ask, I was just thinking that-" "Gail. Gail Weston. She comes here a lot." "Do you know her? I mean, well enough to introduce us?" She pouted sulkily. "Well, I do know her, very well, as a matter of fact. But I thought I was your girl?" "You are Emma, your place in the band is safe. I was thinking about two girls though remember, and you together with her... I mean, you're tall, blonde, and built like a supermodel (she blushed self-consciously, fluttering her eyelashes at him a little), while she's a redhead, shorter and a little more, umm-" "Fatter?" "No, not fatter! Sort of more rounded, you know, what's the word I'm looking for? Curvier! Sort of curvier. I think you would contrast well together, don't you?" "I think 'humph' about covers it. I can introduce you to plenty of girls that can dance well if that's what you're looking for." "I'm looking for something else as well though, something that's very hard to define. A certain 'star quality', if you know what I mean. You have it, in buckets... but so does she. She's a natural." "She's a natural show off, that's for sure. Look at the way she's dancing with those two, they're practically doing it up there right now." That might have been a slight exaggeration, but Chris took her point. Her dress had ridden up her legs, revealing beautifully toned china-white thighs between the top of her black hold up stockings and the edges of her lacy black underwear, just glimpsed when she moved the right way. He was sure that he could see bulges in the men's trousers, and was not surprised in the slightest. She was grinding up and down a leg between her thighs, and leaning back into the other man so he got a real eyeful of what looked like a very appetising cleavage. Emma caught his look and was not amused. "Well, I can introduce you if you want, but remember you picked me first..." He grabbed her hand with both of his. "Please, I think you too would look fantastic together." "We do." She said enigmatically, before pulling him off towards the bar, away from the redhead. She ordered three bottles of beer, and handing him one, dragged him back through the crowd. As the current record finished, the redhead dismayed her fans by grinning at them demurely as she made her way off the raised platform. Emma was there to meet her at the bottom. "It was my round last time, as I recall." Emma said, handing a bottle over. "Emma honey, you're a star. Who's your friend?" Get to the point, why don't you, thought Emma. "Gail, this is Christian. Chris, Gail Weston." She flashed a smile at Chris, all perfect white teeth and dazzling green eyes. "Hi Chris, how are you?" "Erm, fine thanks Gail... you dance very well." "I know," she laughed, "but thanks anyway. What's brought you down here, Em?" As she spoke to Emma, those green eyes never left Chris'. He was hopelessly lost in them. "Chris and I are just out having a few beers. Thought we'd come down here and check things out, see who was out. Isn't that right Chris?" "Do you want to be in my band?" He blurted out. Gail laughed while Emma looked slightly dismayed. Seeing the look on Emma's face out of the corner of her eye, she nodded, laughing. "Sure, I've always wanted to be in a band. What do I have to do?" "If you're going to talk shop," Emma snorted, "I'm going for a dance. I'll catch up with you later." She flounced off across the dance floor towards the stage. Chris watched her go, her buttocks swaying as she sashayed through the crowd like the supermodel he'd called her earlier. The view, from where he was stood, was magnificent. Seeing that, Gail took him by the hand. "Come on, let's go and make short work of these beers. It's hot work, dancing! You can tell me all about the band." They found a quiet booth in the chillout room, which when all said and done was not much more than an enlarged entrance lobby. But it was quiet and, squirreled away in the corner booth, they were able to talk unhindered. Assuming it to be some sort of line, she indulged him at first, but once she realised that he was serious she began to pay more attention. He went through the same pitch as he'd given Emma earlier, only with slightly more difficulty than before. He'd had several more drinks than he'd expected to have, and he realised that there were now six empty tumblers on the table in front of them, as well as the bottles they'd brought in. How many times had she been to the bar while they were talking? "Let me get this straight. You and your friend James do the hard work, playing instruments and writing songs. I get to be up front, do some singing and dancing, just generally be all adored and pretty for the crowd; you stay back in the shadows; and I get all the limelight. I'm basically paid to show off in skimpy outfits so that the crowd love me. Have I got that right?" "Well, apart from the getting paid bit. That comes later, probably a lot later. But yes, I guess the rest of it is right, although I'd never thought of phrasing it like that." She paused for a moment, looking very serious. Chris took that as a bad sign. He must have frowned, because on seeing that she broke into a grin. "Get me something to sign," she said, "and let's get a beer in to celebrate!" "There's nothing to sign, and I think I've had enough to celebrate for tonight." She paused again. She liked him; he was cute, and earnest about being in a band. Which meant he was earnest about making her a star, at least in this town. That must be worth a blowjob, at least. "Let's see if we can think of another way to celebrate then," she said solemnly. It had been raining while they were in the club, and the streets were slick and greasy. The air was filled with a fine drizzle, but on the whole it was a balmy night, still warm out even though it was past midnight. The air sobered him up slightly as he made his way out onto the street. Gail took him by the arm and led him out into the night. They walked for a little way, and Chris presumed he was walking her home. That was fine; he could get a taxi back later if the trams had stopped. They walked and chatted for a few minutes, allowing himself to be led, as she had not revealed their destination. He found himself in an unfamiliar back street, not much more than a narrow alley really, dark and slightly off the beaten track. They were slightly hidden from passers-by on the main road by a couple of huge waste bins, but anyone who paid more than slight attention would see them. He turned to ask her where they were, but his words were cut off by a kiss, deep and meaningful. His tongue responded as hers gently pushed its way into his mouth. Her hand was on the back of his neck, pulling him down and into the kiss, so he could not escape even if he wanted to, although that was definitely the last thing on his mind. He chanced his hands upon her waist, and then taking his cue from a sigh of encouragement he began to let them roam up and down her back, finally taking in her rounded backside. He squeezed it gently, which she seemed to enjoy, pressing herself against his growing erection. She gasped slightly as she felt it twitch against her, and broke away from the kiss. He pounced on her neck, covering it in kisses, and tracing his tongue against taut sinews. She shivered at his touch, running a hand under his shirt and raking her nails against his lower back. It was his turn to gasp, and she liked that. She always liked a little pain with her pleasure, and liked to find people who reacted the first time she tried even just a little pain. She moved her other hand to join the first, now softly stroking her nails up his back, now grazing them hard, and all the time maintaining their impassioned kisses. She wanted to run her nails down the full length of his back, so she broke off for a moment to pull the shirt over his head. He was too surprised to dissent. The cool drizzle fell onto his skin, into the welts on his back caused by her affections. They looked into each other for a moment, but there was nothing tender about it, just an animal instinct to couple. But Gail was not about to give in to lust just like that. She liked to extend the pleasure, and the pain, thereby prolonging her own enjoyment. She leaned in for one simple kiss to his lips, before taking her nails and scraping them down his hairless chest. She fell gracefully to her haunches. Phantasy The fly on his jeans was buttoned, but she snapped them open with practiced dexterity as he barely noticed. She parted the material, revealing an erection straining against cool, white cotton. She nuzzled against it, planting coy kisses against the head, running the very tip of her tongue up and down its discernable length. He looked down at her, and as if sensing her gaze, she looked up, wide-eyed. Their eyes never parted as nimble fingers worked loose the material to free his cock, standing tall in the night air. He felt tiny droplets of drizzle falling onto it when she stopped to look at it, admiring it before running the nail of her little finger from the very base of his shaft, rooted in pubic hair, up the full length of his manhood, pressing into the flesh, causing an exquisite sensation that made him through his head back with his eyes closed. She paused slightly again, until he looked back down at her. She wanted to be sure that she had his full attention. Smiling up at him, she parted her lips, rubbing his cock up and down her bottom lip, then along the full length of her soft and sensuous lips. He could barely breathe, the anticipation of what must surely be to follow causing his imagination to run amok. At first she took just the head of his penis into her mouth, working her tongue on his glans, tracing a line right around the corona with her tongue. She covered the head in saliva, making sure that her mouth was as wet as possible. She flicked the very tip with her tongue, causing the slit to dilate and adding some slight pre-come to the mix. She loved the taste of a man in her mouth, working hungrily on his cock as he began to shudder involuntarily. Slowly, gently, she began to ease more of him into her mouth, relaxing all the muscles in her mouth and throat. He watched transfixed as she managed to take in his entire member, easing it in and out of her mouth. He felt the most incredible sensations as she gave him the blowjob of his life. When he closed his eyes and leant his head back to concentrate on his approaching orgasm, she gently nipped the skin of his scrotum between two nails, and he got the message: your full attention please, this is as much a show as it is sex. She increased the speed that she worked his manhood in and out of her mouth, working on just the last half of its length and savouring the taste of his juices. She eased his jeans down so that she could clamp his buttocks in her hands, drawing him closer to her while controlling the speed and rhythm entirely. When she thought he would least expect it, she ran her right hand up the inside of his right thigh and began to masturbate him into her mouth. She held the glans closely between her lips, still swirling her tongue around the end, while she closed her fist around his penis and worked it into her mouth. When she thought she felt him losing control, she loosened her grip, taking the shaft in her left hand and pressing it up towards his belly, so that she could get unhindered access to his testicles. She teased them, toyed with them, caressed them lovingly and always gently. She kissed them lightly, she licked them, she took first one into her mouth and then the other, in a way no other girl had ever done. She wanted to stretch out the moment of orgasm, make him wait for it. Just when she thought he was getting to comfortable with the attention to his sacs, she started to run her index and middle fingers up past his balls and over his anus. She felt his tummy muscles tighten involuntarily, and she liked that. If he were used to having his ass played with, he wouldn't have tensed up that way. Her hand was still wet from the fluids up and down his cock, and using that as lubrication, she gently probed at his anus with her index finger, working the nail in first, then the fingertip, then the finger as far as the first knuckle. She heard an audible gasp from him, but she never stopped kissing and caressing his shaft and balls. When she felt that he had had enough time to get used to the feeling, she probed further with her finger, pushing it in as far as the second knuckle. From there she could start to exert some form of teasing, working the finger round slowly, bending it slightly. She could feel that he was still tense, but the muscles around his anus were starting to relax just a little. She started to insert her middle finger into his bum hole too, and he winced, thinking that it might start to hurt. She was nothing if not an expert though, and by the time she had two fingers in as far as the second knuckle he found himself enjoying it. He had never had so much as a thermometer inserted into his bum before, and had regarded it as strictly one-way traffic upon until that point. She felt his tummy muscles relax as he finally got used to the feeling of having her fingers inside him. Realising that he was starting to grow accustomed to the feeling, she allowed herself to continue with it for only another couple of minutes. She used her left hand to feel how wet she was, toying with herself through the thin material of her panties. She took the head of his cock into her mouth again, simultaneously pleasuring his cock, his bum hole and her clitoris. When she felt the warm and salty pre-come taste again, she suddenly stopped all three, withdrawing her fingers from his anus so suddenly that he jumped involuntarily. She stood up and took a few steps backwards until she was leaning against the cold, wet brick wall behind her. The drizzle was more constant now, and the sheen of a streetlight reflected off the thin covering of water on her cleavage. Smiling lazily, she used her left hand to slowly draw up the front of her dress until he could see the black almost-not-there gusset of her knickers. She used two fingers to draw the thin material aside, and begin to rub her clitoris with the tips of her index and middle fingers. He watched attentively for a few moments, before his right hand instinctively moved to his penis. "Don't touch!" she barked at him, before smiling again and adding, "I will tell you when you can touch yourself." Too surprised to argue, he dropped his hands to his side. "That's better..." she grinned. She felt her clitoris began to swell as the blood rushed into it. Drinking always made her feel horny; giving blowjobs always made her horny; and making people try new things always made her horny, so tonight she was really onto a winner. Even though the muscles in her right forearm felt tense, she continued to rub herself, never allowing it to become frantic, concentrating on putting on a show for him. His eyes were wide and his attention fixed, so she thought it was time to step it up. She stepped forward from the wall, and for an instant he look dismayed as the show ceased. She took a step closer to him, leaning close before breathily enquiring into his ear, "Do you want to see more?" Holding his breath, he nodded. She took a couple of steps back, so he could look up and down her body. She reached around her back, and he heard a zipper fall. The material of her dress gathered at her shoulders as she drew them together, and almost without a touch the wet material slipped down her body. She stepped out of the dress altogether, revealing a full, lacy black bra, black knickers, and black hold-ups. The streetlights shone on her gradually dampening body. She smiled at him as he tied to take it all in. She looked simply sensational. She ran a finger down her cleavage, over her flat tummy, past the bejewelled belly button and over her pubic mound, tracing a line in the rainwater as it collected on her skin. She brought the finger up to her mouth, sucking on the tip whilst lowering her head and looking at him through her fringe. "Do you like what you see?" she enquired, her voice lowered and hushed. Chris could manage very little except short, staccato nods. He could not ever remember being this aroused. Never taking her eyes from his, she reached around again to unhook her bra, from which she withdrew first one slender arm, then the other, to reveal a modest but firm chest, nipples full erect, aureoles dark in the orange glow. Turning her back on him, she stood with her heels together and bent over slowly, present him with the most glorious view of her pert and curvy butt cheeks. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband, then drew them agonisingly slowly down her legs. The gusset caught momentarily between the lips of her vagina, causing it to trail behind the rest of the material. She stood up tall and turned around slowly, displaying a fully shaven pussy. The rain started to fall more heavily, causing rivulets of water to cascade down her body. There was a sharp intake of breath as a stray raindrop trickled over her distended clitoris, the cool water playing havoc with the her desperately hot sex. She walked forward, taking his cock in her right hand and stroking it with her palm rubbing the underside of the shaft. "Take off your shirt, " she said simply. He complied without a murmur. She kissed one nipple; bit the second one sharply between her front teeth. She toyed with his cock for a few seconds more before allowing her hand to drop away. She walked back a few steps, turning her back on him. She was a couple of feet away from the opposite wall. She placed her hands, palms upturned, on the dripping bricks, before planting her feet firmly and squarely a couple of feet apart. The rain came down heavier, forming streams down her back that ran in streams over her ass cheeks, trickling sweetly over her anus and dripping from her inflamed labia. She called back over her shoulder without looking at him. "Strip." Again, he complied without argument, shedding first jeans, then underwear, then footwear until he was completely naked in the rain, which was now coming down in sheets. "Now, Christian." Blinking twice under the rain, he approached her. He reached underneath and started to stroke tenderly at her clitoris. Although she shuddered at his touch, she issued her last command, barely audible through the driving rain. "I just want you inside me, nothing more. Fill me up with your hot come." He needed no second invitation. Taking his hot cock in his right hand, he nuzzled her clitoris with the tip for a few moments, before finding the right spot. His cock slid in without resistance, the exquisite heat of her vagina creating the most beautiful feeling around his shaft. Fully lubricated, he was able to slowly drive home to the hilt, until he felt his pelvis grinding against her cheeks. She tried to push herself even further back onto him and he had to take a half-step back to brace himself. She moaned quietly with pleasure when she knew she was fully impaled on him, the rain lashing down on the hot skin of her naked back. Slowly, he began to withdraw until he was almost completely free of her and only the glans rested lightly between the lips of her vagina, small trailers of vaginal fluid coming out with his cock. Again he drove home, slightly faster and harder than previously, before coming to rest and slowly withdrawing again. He kept up that practice, every time driving home harder and faster than previously, until he was thrusting firmly home with every stroke. She squealed with delight, feeling completely filled up with every stroke. He put his hand on her cheeks and forced them apart slightly, stretching her anus open slightly and allowing the rainwater to run over it, round the girth of his prick, and over her pussy before dripping to the floor. She felt him start to jerk spasmodically and knew his orgasm was close. "Please Chris, fill me up, fill me up..." Her voice trailed away into the night, lost in the rain. He put his right hand onto her shoulder, pulling her back harder. She started to lose control and reached underneath with her left hand to work her almost numb clitoris with three fingers, rubbing frantically so their orgasms would coincide. As it happened she got their first, a yelp of delight and the clenching of her vaginal walls causing a chain reaction in him, hammering home one final time as his hot seed gushed forth. She put her other hand up to support herself, her head hanging limply as the rain pounded down. She closed her eyes as the overwhelming feelings coursed through her, before finally receding and allowing her vision to return. Emma had had no such luck. Looking round fruitlessly for Chris and Gail, she discovered through a mutual friend that they had left together. Full of futile annoyance, she retrieved her jacket and went outside to hail a taxi. She'd missed the last train and as she now wouldn't be able to spend the night at Chris', and would now have the expense of a late night - and therefore higher rate - taxi ride back home alone. As she was at work early the next morning, at the small hotel owned and run by her sprightly grandmother, she opted for the shorter taxi ride there, to sleep in the spare bedroom she maintained for herself there. She let herself in, having avoided the driver's attempts at conversation for the whole journey. She was hanging her jacket up when she heard a noise from down the corridor. Surprised that anyone should still be up, she sought the source of the noise, only to discover that it was one of the chefs, a middle-aged ex-army chef named Mike. He was divorced, and had taken the job with her gran mainly due to the free room that came with the job. In turn, he had displayed an excellent ability to make a little seemingly go a long way, so Mike had always got on with her gran. Emma had never been sure about him. They had flirted a little, generally quite harmlessly. Although middle age was catching up with him, he still had the fine, broad shoulders and powerful arms of an army man. She caught him with his nose in the huge, stainless steel fridge, obviously seeking out a midnight snack. He was wearing an unfastened housecoat with the cords dangling by his side, and a pair of pyjama bottoms, both in an unflattering navy blue and red tartan pattern. Christmas present, she suspected. She watched as he picked up cheese, mayo, and a few salad items together with some crusty brown bread. He set them down on the steel worktop in the middle of the catching, and she watched as his huge arms made short work of the thick brown bread, carving himself two huge slices. The only light came through the door at the far end of the kitchen - that would be from the corridor leading through to the dining room - and the light from the open fridge. He piled a sandwich high and then smothered it in mayo, stopping to lick the spill from the bottle with his little finger. Emma realised she was peckish - who isn't when they get home after a night out - and the sandwich looked delicious. But that was not the only thing. Mike hopped up onto the worktop and shuffled his bum about until he got comfortable. He'd just opened his mouth to take a mouthful when she spoke from her dark corner of the kitchen. "Nice PJs. Did you mummy buy them for you?" She sauntered over to him, swinging her hips and looking through her fringe at him. He froze, mouth open, sandwich poised, as she walked over towards him. "God, I'm starving, and that sandwich looks fantastic. Mind if I take a bite?" She steadied the sandwich without taking it out of his hands and took a ladylike bite out of the opposite end. He watched her intently, slight aghast that his sandwich was being stolen from under his nose, but also curious about her intentions. She'd hardly spoken to him much in the short time since he'd taken the job, and he she was turning her charms full on in his direction. He found the presence of mind to close his mouth and lower his sandwich. "I can't believe you just did that lass, don't you know that a man's sandwich is sacred?" She giggled as she realised he was gently pulling her leg. "A man's never going to grow big and strong if he can't even finish his supper." "From where I'm stood, I'm not sure that a man can get any bigger," she said, taking a small step closer so she was stood between his knees. She stroked her right index finger up and down the top of his left thigh. "That is, unless you can show me different. Can a man get much bigger?" She asked huskily. Gently, he put his sandwich down by his side, then roughly he grabbed Emma round the waist with one huge arm, pulling her close. He whispered in her ear, something about showing her how big a man could get, but she was intoxicated by his scent. He'd obviously not long since got out of the shower, and that fresh smell with the light spray of deodorant he'd given himself drover her crazy. She took his earlobe between her teeth, licking and biting it gently. He kissed her neck with a surprising softness for a man his size, and within seconds their lips met for the first time. His moustache tickled her top lip as he teased and tickled her lower lip with his teeth and tongue, the impulses seemingly shooting right through her body and ending up at her clitoris. His right hand snaked its way gently up her vest top, massaging her left breast and rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger. His left hand scooped generous handfuls of ass, pulling her closer to him. She had her hands on his waist, but feeling like she wasn't making much of an effort she slid them up in order to try and pull the housecoat down, only to find the way barred by his arms. He turned the table on her, pulling her top up and hoisting her arms together high over her head at the same time. Before she could argue, he's somehow taken both of her tiny, feminine wrists in one massive fist and held them tightly behind her back, not painfully, but with the full knowledge that she could not free them without him releasing them. His other hand sought out the zipper on her skirt, and with surprisingly nimble fingers he slowly drew down the zip and popped the lone button. With just a little encouragement, the skirt slipped over her hips and fell noiselessly to the floor, leaving her wearing just white lace knickers and heels. Without exchanging a word the power had moved completely to Mike, even though she had instigated the exchange. He nuzzled her neck, drawing figure-8s with the tip and landing light kisses that sent shivers cascading down her spine. They kissed again for a few minutes as she became aware of the growing lump in his pyjama bottoms, which only caused her to become even more aroused, She tried to move her head to catch a glimpse of its size, but he carefully manoeuvred her head wherever he wanted it to be. He let loose her hands and shuffled her backwards a step so he could step down from where he was sitting. She managed to slide the housecoat down to reveal a substantial, barrel-like chest and heavily tattooed arms. He motioned for her to step out of her panties, which she did without question. He scooped her up in those big arms and sat her on the table. Not knowing what to expect, she put her arms behind her and leant back on her palms. He grinned, and she got the message. She parted her legs to display her stunning vagina, shorn of all hair just a few hours ago. It clearly met with his approval as he smiled broadly, nodding slowly several times. She felt as though she were on display, unaccustomed as she was to relinquishing all control as she had to Mike. He started at her belly button and worked down, soon searching out her clitoris in the no-nonsense style she had seen displayed in most aspects of the man's work. His tongue was quick and dextrous, lashing quickly against the engorged aspect of her clitoris. She sighed several times, looking lovingly down at the top of his close-cropped head, occasionally stroking his head and the back of his neck with one hand. Maybe it was the drink, but when telling the story to Zoe on the phone the day after she could not explain why she did what she did next. On a whim, she took hold of the squeezy mayo bottle. She leant back a little so she could see the tip of his tongue making broad strokes along her labia and, squeezing gently, allowed a trickle of mayo to fall from the bottle onto her pussy. Her aim was off at first, falling at first too high, so without allowing the flow to stop she adjusted her aim to make sure it fell directly onto her clitoris, leaving a trail of fluid down her groin. She squealed with delight as the thick, cold liquid fell onto her sex. Without missing a beat, Mike started working the creamy white gloop into her vagina, up and down the lips, around the clitoris and as far inside the hood as he could make his tongue go. The contrast of the warm tongue and the cold mayo drove her crazy! Only seconds later she felt the familiar flush on her cheeks, and as she fought back the screams an orgasm ravaged her groin, spreading waves of heat rippling through her body.