25 comments/ 66025 views/ 52 favorites Just a Hick Town Guitar Player By: Bazzza It'd been three months since my old guitar had been stolen from the back of car, and it took me weeks to get over my anger. While it was more than thirty years old, its rich tones seemed to better with age. I owned three guitars, but the one stolen had been my favourite by far. Sure, the insurance paid out on it after a bit of squabbling but I knew in my heart it was going to be hard to replace. Just to make myself feel a little better, I'd decided to invest a little more money than the insurance payout and get my something better. Flavell's Music & Instruments was far the best shop in town for guitars, and it wasn't long before I'd made a nuisance of myself. Most people that know me would consider that I'm a pedantic perfectionist, and they're probably quite right. But anyone who knows anything about guitars would agree that no two are really identical in sound. Two guitars made one after another may have a different sound or feel about it, and I just wanted the best. I was looking for a nice semi-acoustic classical guitar with a cutaway body, its sound more important than its looks. So each time new batch of guitars arrived, the owner of Flavell's, better known to me as Benny these days, would ring and entice me to the shop to try them with the hope of a purchase. I reckon that if I found one I liked, Benny would give it to me for nothing just to get me out his hair. That particular Saturday, I'd taken a few guitars to an out of the way place at the rear of the shop near the piano section to be out of the way of other customers, just as I'd done before. I was soon in my own little world quietly putting my potential purchases through their paces. It would be fair to say that I'm not a bad player of the guitar; I've played for more than twenty years and had been tutored in a classical in my early teens. Since then, I've developed my own little style; I suppose you'd call it a sort of rock played classically, sounds strange but those who hear it tend to like it as much as I like playing it. Like most guitarists, I like to improvise and have written a lot of my own stuff, some good and I suppose some not so good. I'd been playing quietly for sometime when I sensed someone was close by but just out of my peripheral vision. I turned around to find a young woman casually leaning against a nearby piano watching me. "Sorry, I didn't realise anyone was there." I mumbled apologetically. "Am I in your way?" She smiled, "Not at all, I was drawn down here by your playing. What was it you were playing? I haven't heard it before." "Just something I made up." "It's good, how about you just keep playing and I'll listen?" I smiled graciously and returned to my playing, but my thoughts now on my audience. She looked familiar, like someone I known but never met if you get my meaning. I snuck a few glances her way to where she was leaning on a baby grand with her arms folded watching me. She was pretty with short dark hair; a large pink beret was perched on her head, below were black top and blue faded jeans with black scuffed leather boots. For the next minute or so, my brain drifted as I trine to place her, and then it suddenly dawned on me who she was. I stopped playing and raised my eyes to hers. "Are you who I think you are?" She smiled, "Probably, but that doesn't mean you can stop playing." I allowed the guitar to slip flat against my thighs and grinned stupidly at her, for I was in shock. She chuckled at my response, "Don't go daft on me. How about you keep playing for a while, and then I'll buy you a coffee for your efforts. Play some other stuff you've written." For the next few minutes, I played nervously as I came to grips with my situation. For before me stood Clara St Michaels, a rock singer and song writer of fame. She stood in front of tens of thousands of people and awed them with her voice, a voice so pure and powerful it could tear your heart out, and other times a voice so sad that could bring tears to ones eyes. Her songs were a mixture of hard pounding rock and slow ballads that seemed to draw her fans close me included; to me she was one of a kind. I soon realised what was different about her, her trademark long hair had been tucked up under the beret, and without the bright makeup she wore on stage or on photo shoots, it would be kind of hard to recognise her. I played for a good ten minutes before I put the guitar down, and was most embarrassed to get a quiet clap from Clara. "What a neat sound, I really liked it. Most unique I think." "Thanks." I mumbled humbly. "C'mon, that deserves a coffee." Now I was kind of embarrassed, I mean why would someone like Clara St Michael want to give me the time of day? I'm just nobody who can play a guitar living in a small hick town. "Its okay, you don't have to." Clara's smile waned as she read my mind, "You've earned it, and anyway I hate drinking coffee alone." A few minutes later, I sat nervously at a café table with a long black in my hand. Clara had taken a seat opposite but facing away from view as if to hide from being recognised, I suppose it would be second nature these days. "So what's it like singing in front of thousands of people?" I asked. She smiled and took a sip of her coffee before answering, "It's the best feeling in the world, once I get over my nerves." "You still get nervous? I thought it'd be old hat after all the concerts you've done." "Nope, can't shake the nerves. It takes me two or three songs before they disappear, then I'm usually okay." "What are you doing down here?" I asked. "Just wanted some time out before the concert next week. Sometimes all the people and fanfare gets too much, all hotel rooms get to look the same and everyone wants something from me. So every now and then, I hire a car and hit the road for a bit of solitude, and here I am." "In the middle of nowhere." I added. Clara looked around and shrugged her shoulders, "I dunno, looks fine to me. And how else do get to meet fine little guitar players like you. So tell me about yourself? " I was kind of surprised at her request, "Why ever would you want to know about me?" She sort of grinned, "Cause I'm usually surrounded with noters, people who have an agenda or just want to impress me. You're different; you're talented but downplay your ability, both in playing but also your own music. It'd be interested putting some lyrics to some of it. Beside, I like your shyness too, it's like you're too embarrassed to be near me." I went red and said nothing. "You're kinda easy on the eye, and I kinda like guys that, and guys that blush easily. So, tell me about myself." So I told Clara St Michael of my boring life, which was kind of easier then being embarrassed. Where I was brought up, about my family and that I worked as an insurance investigator. I pointed out through the window across to distant hills and told I lived in a house that I'd inherited from my parents. It had actually been our holiday home, but when they passed away I took the house as my part of the deal and left my brother and sister to fight over the larger family home. To my surprise, Clara listened with interest to my boring story. I took in her pretty face as I spoke, her big hazel eyes and the splattering of freckles under her makeup. I liked the way she smiled, her lips widening and showing her perfect teeth. When I finally rambled to the end of my story, Clara placed her head on her hands and looked over at me, "So, just a small town boy?" "Yeah, big cities don't do much for me, once I'm there; I just can't wait till I get home again." "Girlfriends?" "Not at the moment, sometimes it just gets too hard." I replied. "So what about you?" "Girlfriends?" she asked humorously. "No, boyfriends?" She shrugged shoulders, "Not particularly interested. In my situation you have to be careful, anything and everything is of interest to the press. Seen holding hands or kissing someone, they'd be articles of my wedding plans in the next publication." "Never thought of it like that. I always thought fame and fortune would be all good fun." "Nope, it can be very lonely at times, but there's lots of good times too." We talked music for the next hour or so, Clara told me more about her experiences on the road. Finally, she looked at her watch. "I'd better hit the road; I've got a long drive back. You coming to my concert?" "Nah, no tickets. By the time I got around to buying them, they'd sold out." I replied truthfully "Well, we can't have that." Clara commented as she sorted through a large handbag and coming up with an envelope. "Here's a couple of complementary tickets. It'll be good to see you again. And after the concert, we'll be having a bit of a party. We're staying at the Princeton, and you'll need to ask for Lenny. You can't miss him, huge ugly guy with a shaved head. Just tell him that Clara invited you and he'll let you in. I'll mention your name to him when I get back. Okay?" "Sure." I walked Clara back to her rental car, a nondescript Ford and watched her shapely buttocks slide into the driver's seat, no harm in dreaming I thought to myself. It unfortunately, but my best mate Mathew couldn't make it on concert night, he had some kind of family reunion from which he couldn't escape. He was sure agitated when he saw the tickets; he would've given his right arm and leg to go. I had fully intended to give the spare ticket to someone else, but on the day of the concert it was still in my wallet as I started the long drive. Eventually I offered it to a cute little redhead who was milling outside the gates, she looked at me in pure disbelief when I gave her the ticket, and I got little peck on the cheek for my kindness. Even though the concert was outdoors, it certainly something else; and while I couldn't real get close to the stage, it was still one to remember. Clara sang all of the old songs that made her famous and then some newer ones, her strong voice wowing the forty thousand plus audience. It seemed hard to believe that I had been sitting having coffee with her just a few days back. After the concert, I headed towards the Princeton Hotel, I half expected to be refused entry, but after getting past the fans in the foyer, I soon made out Lenny. He was indeed just as Clara described; big, brutish and ugly with his shaved head. I nervously approached him and muttered my invitation, and without a word, he stepped aside and pointed up the stairs. The party was already in full swing, must have been a couple of hundred people laughing, drinking and cavorting to loud music. I was almost tempted to turn and run, for I'm not good in large crowds, but here was a chance of a life time. I forced myself into the throng of people and made my way to the bar. With a cold beer in my hand, I leaned on the bar and watched the beginning of mayhem unfold. My eyes roamed the room looking for Clara but it was to no avail, for she was no where to be seen. I chatted to a few people as they waited to be served, pretty girls and a mixture of rough neck males, but luckily all friendly. I guess I'd been there for a good half an hour when Clara caught my eye as she weaved through the crowd. My heart lifted as she smiled and made her way over to me. "Hi, I was hoping you'd turn up." she yelled in my ear over the noise. "Come and meet some friends." Clara led me through the crowd to where a group of people stood, some like the guitarist Jeff Mills and the drummer Franko I recognised from her band. "Hey you guys, this is guy I told you about in the music shop. He sure plays a mean guitar, you wanna hear him play. He's something else." So for the next few minutes, I stood in awe talking to what I consider to be some of the best musicians in the world, well in my book anyway. They seemed good guys and took some interest in the story of my stolen guitar, admittedly the only story of mine worth telling. Jeff nodded in sympathy, he replied by telling us all that losing your favourite guitar was akin to losing ones mother. I was soon accepted into the little group, and with Clara standing at my side soon felt very comfortable. Even though everyone wanted to talk to her, she remained pleasant and polite. As the hours disappeared the crowd began to thin and Clara left my side for some reason. It was a while later when a guy standing close to me leaned close, "Want to have some fun?" "Sure." I replied. It's not the sort of question to say no to, even when not knowing what the fun was to be. I followed a few others upstairs and into a room, the door was locked behind us and a few knowing winks were exchanged between those already in the room and us newcomers. We then entered a bedroom, and the fun thing soon became clear. On a table sat a large mirror with several lines of white powder, people were taking turns to snort what was obviously cocaine through rolled up bank notes. I should make it perfectly clear right here and now that I have no time for drugs, never used them, never associate with people who do. This goes back to a time when someone I knew overdosed and died, an elder brother of a friend of mine and I will never forget how it ripped the family apart. I was about to take my leave when my eyes found Clara leaning on the wall. She smiled at me as she approached the mirror, and to my absolute disgust filled one nostril with cocaine. Now it wasn't probably my place to stop her, but without thinking I stupidly lunged across the table and grabbed her by the arm. "Jeezus Clara, what are you doing?" I yelled. Her eyes swung angrily towards me, "Get your fucking hands off me. Who the fuck do you think you are, my mother?" Next thing I know was that someone grabbed me from behind pinning my arms, I didn't see the punch coming but it caught me on the side of the face, it was hard and brutal and just as hard as the one that followed. I then found myself on the carpet protecting myself from some well delivered kicks. When they stopped, I staggered without help from the floor, when I finally found my bearings I stumbled towards the door. I saw Clara lower her face to the mirror and fill her other nostril, her large expressionless eyes then peered up at me as I made my exit. I spent a very painful few hours in the backseat of my car before eventually driving myself to hospital, the results, two cracked ribs, one black eye, a chipped eye tooth and some severe bruising. It would also be fair to say that my ego had taken a fair battering as well. To this day, I don't know what my expectations were that night, but it certainly wasn't getting the shit kicked out me. For the next few weeks; I was an angry man. Angry at Clara's involvement in drugs, for I thought she would've been above all that, and angry at myself for getting involved in other people's problems. It took me a while to calm down and realise it was none of my business what she did. I still reckon my beating was uncalled for, I wouldn't have been too sad if I'd got thrown out for my outburst, but to get assaulted was a little over the top. But as the bruises and the pain disappeared, so did my anger, really it was just another harsh lesson in life. And for some unfathomable reason, Clara St Michael wasn't on my top play list anymore. Her three CD's and one live DVD were used as target practice, and disintegrated under the aim of my shotgun along with any respect that I once had for her. It's funny how things turn out, for six months later Clara got herself into a spot of bother. At another one of her after concert parties, one of the young guests fell off a balcony at a fancy hotel and died. It was probably a bit of bad luck that the swift arrival of the cops found a number of obviously high guests milling around which caught their interest. To cut a long story short, the cops found evidence of cocaine usage, and the autopsy found that the unlucky guest had substantial amounts of alcohol and cocaine in his system. Once the press got hold of it, Clara became a hot item, and over the next month took an increasing amount of flack as she came under growing scrutiny for drug taking. Seems everyone had a story to tell, and it wasn't long before she went to ground, unfortunately so did her record sales. Clara then disappeared off the face of the earth and everyone seemed to forget she ever existed. Well everyone but me, for my mind sometimes drifted back to her, and my curiosity never really died. It was many months later and late on a Friday afternoon when I guided my ten year old Chrysler up the long driveway to my house. Work wise, it had been a hard week and I was looking forward to taking it easy for the weekend. Next to the house was a black Porsche Cayenne, it was a bit of a surprise as no one I know has wheels like that. I parked next to it and gave it a once over before walking around to the front entrance to the house. There sitting on a swing chair sat a female figure taking in the panoramic view in front of her. Her head swung towards me as I turned the corner, and it took me a second or two recognise Clara with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She smiled nervously as I slowly approached where she was sitting, "Hi, long time no see." "Bit of a surprise seeing you here." "I'm doing the apology visits at the moment; you were on the top of my list." "How'd you find this place?" I asked. She shrugged her shoulders, "Easy really. Went to that music shop in town and asked who's the worst guitar player around here. Told me your name and pointed me up here into the hills." I grinned, "Well I suppose they got that right. Been in the wars I hear." "Yep, fucked up big time. Now I know what its like to be public enemy number one." "Been sitting out here long?" "Dunno, couple of hours maybe. Been okay though, it's real beautiful out here. But now you're home, any chance of a coffee while I prepare my apology?" While making coffee, I watched Clara wander around my lounge taking in my wall picture, old family photos and other things of interest like my CD and DVD collection. I then carried two steaming cups into the lounge and handed one to her. She then folded herself into a chair and looked over at me. "You don't have to do this you know." I said. "What happened; happened." Her big sorrowful eyes bored into mine, "I've been in rehab for the two months, sort of gave me time to look back at the mess I've made and how I've hurt people, you included. I was never like that before the drugs." She smiled, "I often thought about you and what you might be up to." "Why me?" "Cause I enjoyed those few hours we had together. No agenda's or expectations or anything, just someone who loves music as much as me. When you got knocked around after the concert, I didn't think much of it at the time. Not because I didn't care, but snorting coke seemed more important at the time, but that's what drugs do to you." "So you're off them now?" "Absolutely, never again. The only good side was that I lost weight in rehab. Seriously, though, I'm really, really sorry what happened to you." I shrugged my shoulders, "It's okay; I'm over it now." "You must have been pissed off at me at the time." "Well, I used your CD's and DVD as target practice when I got home." Clara chuckled, "I can understand that." "But you're forgiven; I can't stay angry for long. Anyway, it was really stupid of me to try and stop you doing the coke. I didn't really know you and it wasn't any of my business." Her eyes met mine, "But you were the only one who tried to stop me. In all the time that I was taking that shit, you were the only one who cared enough to stop me. And what did it get you." "Two cracked ribs, one black eye, a chipped eye tooth and bruising." I answered. Clara frowned, "I'm so sorry." Just a Hick Town Guitar Player "On the positive side, I got free tickets to your concert and a chance to meet you, nearly a fair deal." "Not in my books." she replied getting to her feet. "Just remembered, I got something for you." Clara went out to the Cayenne and returned a few seconds later with a guitar case and placed it on the floor in front of me, "This is for you, a peace offering of sorts." Inside was one of the most beautiful guitars I'd laid eyes on, the cut away body in a beautiful blonde timber, the wide neck mounted in nylon strings. "Jeeezus Clara, I can't accept this." I muttered. She laughed, "The look on your face makes it all worth while. It yours, I'm not taking it back. "So let's hear it." From the moment I started to play the instrument, I knew I'd never be able to give it back. While it was easy to play, its sound was crisp and crystal clear. "Wow, this is fucking incredible." "Jeff from the band picked it for me. He just asked me what you were playing in the shop that day, and then chose that for you." "It must of cost a packet." I guiltily suggested. "Irrelevant; keep playing." Time just sort of disappeared on us, and before we realised it was dark outside. Clara gratefully accepted my offer of spaghetti bolognaise, and joined me in the kitchen to put it together. It was nice to have woman around me, for it had been a while since I'd smelt perfume and the closeness of the opposite sex. My kitchen's small, and we worked close and over each other as the food was prepared. Whenever I got the chance, my eyes flirted over her taking in glimpses of her tight jeans and shapely figure. From time to time our eyes would meet and Clara would give me a little smile. We ate in the lounge with trays on our laps and chatted with half filled mouths. Clara told me that she was hiding from the world for a while, and was going to travel incognito so long as she didn't get recognised. "Where are you staying the night?" I eventually asked. "Dunno, probably a motel in town when you kick me out." "There's a spare room here if you want." I offered. "Just have to make up the bed." Clara looked over at me. "No expectations, I just enjoy your company." I said. She smiled, "You're one of the nicest men I've ever met. I never doubted your intentions. So yes, I'll take you up on the offer." But it was in the early hours that we finally stopped chatting, both our eyes drooping with fatigue. I made up the bed while Clara retrieved a large overnight bag from the Cayenne and then left her to it. I then bade her goodnight and took myself to my own bedroom. From my bed, I listened to Clara clean her teeth and other things before I heard her bedroom door close. I then closed my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep. I woke to the presence of someone close by, footsteps by the bed and then the warmth of another body climbing in beside me. "Hi." Clara whispered. "Hi." "Cold and couldn't sleep. Don't mind me being here?" "Nope." "Good." she replied and snuggled into me. I lifted my arm so that she could get close, and her face was next to mine and her arm over my chest. She was wearing a long shirt of some kind, so there was no touching of naughty bits. "Thank you for being my friend." she whispered. "No problems." We lay contently beside each other, both deep in our own thoughts before Clara gave me a little peck on the cheek. "You can fuck me if you want." To this day, I don't know how I declined her offer, maybe because she was kind of vulnerable or because I thought it might be just 'a sorry what I did fuck.' Anyway, I said no and gave her a peck on the forehead. Again she snuggled in tighter and we soon drifted off to sleep. I've always been an early riser, and the next morning was no different. A pressing need to go to the bathroom forced me gently out of bed without waking Clara. I was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when she made an appearance; she slipped up onto a bench and watched me go about my chores. The long green tee shirt she was wearing was now halfway up her shapely thighs and certainly a distraction. "Morning freckles." I said after taking in her pretty face. She looked at me with some contempt, "I'm not speaking to you." "Why's that?" "Because women don't like getting turned down, me included." I laughed, "Now you know what it's like for us guys, we get turned down all the time and have to live with it." "Mmmmm, so why'd you turn me down?" "Because it would've been for the wrong reasons." "Like what?" I shrugged my shoulders, "Cause we don't know each other and you're on a bit of a downer at the moment. It would only complicate things." Her big eye's gazed over at me for a few seconds. "Listen, I'm here because I want to be, I like you a lot, and I'd kinda need a little lovin right now. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do it with. So, if I ask you a second time, will you help me out?" When I remained speechless, Clara slid off the bench and pulled the tee shirt over her head. Her skin was pale and flawless, small pert breasts with dark nipples peeked back at me. Her waist was narrow and flared out to a pair of purple panties, below her full and shapely thighs caught my lust filled eyes. "See anything you like?" she asked with a sultry smile. "I'm gonna have a shower, then I'm going to take you to bed. Or perhaps you might like to shower with me?" I followed Clara into the bathroom where she stood before me and stepped out of her panties exposing a triangle of dark curls. I stepped forward and attempted to take her in my arms, but was pushed gently away. "Nope, not yet." she said in a mocking voice. "Would you like me to shave my pussy, I like it shaved when I'm gonna have lots of sex?" "What makes you think that you're gonna get lots of sex?" "Woman's intuition." was her reply as she stepped into the shower. My shower cubicle isn't big enough for two, and I watched while undressing through the opaque glass as Clara washed herself. She grinned wickedly as she stepped out of the shower and caught sight of my erection standing proudly before me. "My my, I'm so shocked." By the time I'd showered, Clara was sitting on the bathroom vanity with a razor moving carefully over soaped up pussy. After each stroke, a clear strip of skin appeared, she then turned away slightly to shave the more delicate bits. She grinned when I tried to move closer, "Stay where you are, I need to concentrate doing these bits. One slip and it'll be back to wanking for you." For next minute or so, my cock twitched in the air as I waited impatiently for her to finish. I really wanted to jump her bones then and there, but patience is a virtue and some things shouldn't be rushed. Eventually she placed the razor in the sink, got to her feet and paraded around in front of me. "So, am I to your liking sir? Would you like to take me to your boudoir and fuck me silly?" Without waiting for an answer, she skipped like a small child towards the bedroom. She then stood by the bed and took me into her arms, "I'm an old fashioned girl who likes to be kissed at least once before being fucked." Clara's tongue surged into my mouth the instant our lips touched, her hands holding me tight in case I tried to escape. I'll never forget that first kiss, the nervous and tentative exploration of lips and tongues as my cock dug hard into her stomach. It was a while before she broke the kiss and lowered herself to my bed. She spread her legs wide trapping me when I tried to lie beside her, and I unintentionally slipped between her shapely thighs. Her hand guided my cock to her pussy, and without hesitation, pushed she herself up onto it. The head of my cock penetrated her without resistance, it was deliciously warm and wet; I rocked slowly backwards and then forwards to gain full penetration. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's soooooooo nice." she whispered into my ear. Clara let me ride her for a few seconds before locking her tightly legs around my thighs which limited my penetration so that only the head of my cock was inside her. "Just like that." she whispered. "Do me just like that." I experimented for a few strokes to get it right, a slow rhythm with shallow penetration. "Mmmmmmmmm, that's it, you got it." I was told. A few seconds later, I felt Clara tense and then shudder beneath me, her legs locking tightly stopping me from moving inside her. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhm I'm cumming, you've made me cum sooo quick." Problem was, that Clara's excitement had also had the same affect on me, and without realising it, I began to fill her pussy with my cum, my rigid pulsating cock emptying inside her warm wet cavern. I cursed once the deed had been done, for I had sold myself short. Clara grinned when she realised that her pussy was full of my cum. "Oh dear." she murmured when she returned to this world. "What a couple of amateurs, thirty seconds into it and were both done." Clara then released me from her grip and let me slide backwards into a kneeling position between her thighs. A globule of cum obscured her opening and thin a line ran down between the cheeks of her buttocks. She let me gaze unashamedly at her used pussy for a few seconds before sliding her hand between her legs and rolling slowly from the bed. "Back in a minute." she said while heading for the bathroom. I lay back on the bed disappointed with my performance; here I was with a beautiful woman whom tens of thousands had undoubtedly dreamed of bedding, and in a few seconds made a complete ass of myself. If she came back into the room, got dressed and left, how could I ever blame her or take myself seriously as a lover again? But Clara soon returned with a warm face cloth and cleaned my now almost flaccid cock. She gave me a cheeky grin just before her lips slipped over my cock, then making herself comfortable beside me, began working me back to an erect state. Her technique was exquisite, a lovely warm mouth and a dancing tongue made short work of the job in hand. Our eyes met often as she sucked and tormented my cock; eventually her mouth slipped away and a hand took its place. "That's better." she commented stoking me slowly before moving into a kneeling position. She lifted a leg over me while at the same time guiding my cock between her lips, and then slowly lowered herself onto me. My cock appreciated her lovely velvet smooth insides as it was slowly ridden with long strokes. Clara leaned forward and lowered her pert breasts close to my face to tease me. "Now control yourself this time." she said squeezing my left nipple. "I want more than a sixty second ride." I laughed, "It's all your fault, don't blame me." "My fault; how's that?" "Well, you arrive at my house and tease me by climbing into my bed. Then you proposition me, unfortunately I had to turn you down because I'm too much of a gentleman. Then you take all of your clothes off and shave your pussy in front of me. And then you rape me and then complain when it's all over too quickly. "So ,who's at fault here?" Clara glared down at me, "I'd stick to music if I were you; I don't think comedy's your thing." "Its no laughing matter when I haven't been laid in months and some strange woman worms her way into my bed uninvited." I noticed the little tell tail signs of a smile appear in the corners of her mouth; she rotated her wet pussy on my cock and looked down at me. "Why am I not surprised that you haven't been laid in a while? You've all the tack of a turnip. Maybe I should just pack my bag and leave." "Or, maybe you could stay and teach me a little tact and decorum." Clara smiled and pretended to think about it, ""Well, only if you behave yourself." Pulling her down onto my chest, I kissed her passionately as my hands caressed her arms and shoulders. Her breathing deepened as our lips and tongues busily played, her pussy jammed hard down over the full length of my cock. Slowly I rolled Clara over onto her back without breaking the kiss and began to ride her. Her legs locked tightly around me pulling me hard into her each time I pulled outwards. A loud slurping of a wet pussy; and the slapping of skin on skin accompanied each thrust caused us to break the kiss and laugh. After a while, I eased myself from her and began to kiss my way down her body, her neck and breasts and further. She giggled as my tongue tormented her belly button, and then she squirmed as I licked down her navel to her thighs. Easing myself to a kneeling position on the floor next to the bed, I pulled Clara down so that her buttocks were on the edge. Her pussy was now in the perfect position for a good licking which I fully intended to deliver. Placing her legs over my shoulders, I then set about teasing her a little, with small kisses and licks, I then began to work my way up the inside each thigh. My eyes were soon fixed on the lovely sight between them. Her smooth pussy was wet with her juices, her lips a little pink from the recent shave. Her inner lips were large and slightly protruding in her aroused state, her opening slight agape from our previous antics. A small clitoris which was soon about to get some attention; sat innocently and slightly hidden between her lips. Clara's thighs were tight and toned as I moved upwards; I could feel the warmth of her arousal as my face neared its objective. Intrigued how sensitive her skin was where her thighs and pussy met, and I kissed and toyed there for a few seconds before Clara impatiently moved my face directly to her pussy. At first, I flicked my tongue gently between her lips, just touching her clitoris and the soft velvety skin below. I grinned with satisfaction as Clara trembled under my touch. I then sucked her right pussy lip deep into my mouth and suckled it for a few seconds before doing the same to the left. My mouth was soon slippery and covered in her juices, but I cared not. She jumped as I then tackled her clitoris, sucking it deep into my mouth and flicking my tongue over it. For the next few minutes, I sucked, nibbled and licked Clara's pussy, my hands held her thighs tightly as she writhed on the bed before me. Then, with a change of technique, I slipped my thumb inside her and began to work her with a slow rhythm as my tongue toyed with her clitoris. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, that's nice." she murmured. "I'll give you a week to stop that." Removing my thumb after a while, I slipped a finger inside her, and then a second. I manipulated my fingers just how I'd pick at a guitar string, I then added a third finger stretching her wide and carried on with the same technique. "Ohhhhhh christ, what are you doing down there?" she muttered as her buttocks lifted slightly off the bed and began moving up and down. I wasn't at all surprised at her response to my attentions, for this was a little game I'd perfected many years before, and had stood me in good stead with past lovers ever since. My mouth slipped back over her clitoris, and I began working Clara with some conviction. It was hard work keeping pace with Clara, for she was soon writhing all over the place. I tried to pin her down with my free hand, but she was strong and excited. Her pussy was now sopping wet, my hand and face were now soaking in her pleasure. "Holy fuuuuuuuuuck." she eventually groaned, her little trembles turned into shudders. "I'm gonna cuuuum again." My eyes lifted, and I looked through her open thighs, over her flat navel and between her breasts to her usually pretty face. But her features were now distorted as her orgasm flowed through her tense body, her mouth open and eyes half closed, her hair wildly tangled on the bed beneath her. My fingers and tongue worked her gently as her orgasm ebbed she relaxed. A hand pushed my face away and my fingers from her pussy, taking my hand, she coaxed me up the bed along side her and then cuddled into me. For a minute or so, she held me tightly before giving me a peck on the lips. "Eeeeew, I'm not kissing that. Look at the state of your face." "Your fault." I replied forcing my lips upon hers. Her tongue was soon in my mouth, and her hand around my hard cock. Without breaking the kiss, Clara rolled onto her back and spread her legs, and I accepted her invitation. My cock was directed between her pussy lips, and I glided into the hilt with a gentle push. Again, her legs locked around my buttocks to ensure there was no escape, and I began to ride her slowly and passionately. "I take back what said about you, you're not at all bad at this." she whispered into my ear between nibbles. "That thing you were doing with your fingers inside me was somethin else, not a bad little orgasm thanks very much." "Apologies accepted." I managed to mutter. For the next thirty minutes, we changed positions and experimented with what ever came to mind. Our bodies were shiny with perspiration as we toiled in passionate pleasure, it was an intimate and full of feelings each giving as much as taking. Eventually Clara eased herself away from me allowing my cock to escape from between her thighs. "You've worn me out, won't be able to walk straight for a week." she chuckled. Her eyes fell to my cock, slick and shiny with her juices, still hard and ready for action. "Whatever are we gonna do with that thing." she asked while rolling onto her haunches and moving over me. It was a question I didn't have to answer, for my cock was taken into her succulent mouth and a warm tongue began tantalising the head and glands below. With great patience, my cock was sucked and manipulated towards orgasm. A hand sliding up and down my slippery shaft as her warm mouth suckled and sucked me towards the end. But it was the second time for me that day, and unlike all the stories of men being able to cum multiple times on command, I just couldn't quite manage it. Eventually, I took myself in hand, and using my favourite technique of just a thumb and forefinger moving at a million miles an hour, I soon ejaculated the short distance to Clara's waiting face. Her eyes closed as my cum dribbled down her cheek and chin, waiting for me to finish, she then wiped the remains from my cock with her fingers and took me once more in her mouth to slowly milk the remaining pleasure from me. And when she felt I'd completely finished, her big eyes looked up at me as her cum covered mouth gave me just the sweetest little smile. We didn't move much from the bedroom for nest two days, not that we were fucking continuously as Clara would so callously describe it. She liked to shock me with her crude use of the English language. We took our meals back to the bedroom, we sat together without clothes and watched cable, and every now and then, would we make love. It was a time where we got used to each other bodies; I just loved to watch Clara walking around buck naked, her lovely rounded buttocks swinging with each step, and little pert breasts jiggling up and down. On the Sunday night, Clara turned to me and looked at me with some seriousness. "Do you mind if I hang around here for awhile?" I smiled, "Stay as long as you want." "It just that there's nowhere I want to be more than here, and there's no one that I'd rather be with than you. I feel real comfortable here, more comfortable than I felt for months." I leaned over and kissed Clara on the forehead, "I like you being here too." She snuggled up to me and held me tight, it felt real good. We all have moments in our lives that we will cherish for ever, and the following day was one I'll never forget. Around lunchtime, Clara arrived at the office to take me for something to eat, not planned, just in impromptu gesture on her part. A couple of the girls I work with recognised Clara and the news spread through the small office before I realised she was there. When I walked out into the reception area, Clara gave me a big smile and sauntered up to me and gave me a peck on the cheek. When one of the co-workers asked Clara if we knew each other, she just turned sweetly and told them that I was her lover. I don't think I was ever the most popular man around when it came to my co-workers, but I sure got a lot of kudos that day. I'll never forget the looks on their faces when Clara took me by the arm and escorted me from the office. Just a Hick Town Guitar Player When it came to sex, Clara continued to surprise me; she rang me on my cell phone one afternoon, and with low husky sultry voice, suggested that I should invest in a few sex toys before I came home. There only two adult shops in town, and I drove to the one at the other end of town in case someone I knew saw me go in. Clara was waiting eagerly for me to arrive home; she pounced on the brown bag and emptied two vibrators out on to the couch, and removed them from their packets. Without a word, she slipped her tracksuit pants and panties down to the floor and stepped out of them. Slipping a finger into her mouth and then down to her bald pussy, Clara then spread her legs wide and placed the vibrator between her lips. She smiled and briefly closed her eyes as the first shivers of pleasure flowed through her. "Mmmmmmmmmmm, feels nice." she whispered. "Bring your cock over her so I can suck it." Seconds later I was kneeling on the couch with Clara's warm mouth was around my cock sucking gently as she toyed with her pussy below. "Mmmmmmmmm, fuck my mouth, and cum over my face." she asked. "Race you to cum." It was a race that I lost convincingly, for Clara raked up two orgasms in quick succession before I even got close. Slipping her new toy inside her and closing her legs to keep there, Clara then turned her attentions to me, with her mouth wide, she allowed my thrusting cock to fly back and forth in her mouth until I cum. She took the first shot into her mouth, but promptly closed it taking the second and remaining on her lips and chin. She then sat back on the couch as my cum dribbled down her chin and hung disgustingly below. She wiped it from her chin with her fingers and smeared it between her pussy lips before making an even bigger mess with the vibrator. "Mmmmmmmmm, gooood fuuun. "I'm always horny this time of the month." she commented with a sultry smile. I looked down at her with an evil grin, "Can't wait for next month." "Honey, this month ain't finished yet, I'm like this for a couple of days." I hope you've made dinner." I joked. "I'm hungry." Clara laughed, "Not a fucking chance, make it yourself." At the time, I didn't realise Clara's interest in writing music had returned. She had recorded and burnt some of my own guitar stuff onto a CD, and spent some time writing lyrics to it while I was at work. I was kind of surprised when she sprung it on me, mainly because I didn't think it was good enough. But over the next few weeks, I played along while she refined her lyrics, and the end results were impressive. Clara had also written some of her own material, and between us we had a compilation of about ten songs, nearly enough for an album according to her. It was a good time for both us, our relationship had slipped into that nice comfortable mode; we wined and dine at restaurants at whim. I was allowed to drive the Cayenne anytime I liked which was a buzz. But like all good things, it eventually had to end. It was a fine Sunday morning when Clara told me she had to leave for a few days. I guess I was a little downhearted, for I thought Clara might not come back. She laughed and asked me to drive her to the airport, and if she didn't come back, I could have the Cayenne, a fair swap some might say. To cut a long story short, Clara dropped a CD of our music into her record company, and after listening to it and a little negotiations, a deal was struck. Over the next few weeks, Clara came and went like the wind, I was invited to go along, but my job held me back. Once the concert promoters got wind of Clara's reappearance and a hint of new material, the pressure was put on for a concert. At first Clara declined all invitations, for she didn't feel up to fronting up to the world again, but nearly a year after she disappeared, she stood for the first time in front of an audience of three thousand people in a seated theatre. From the rear of the stage I watched with some pride as Clara stood in front of her old band and delivered some of her old songs, her powerful voice stunning her wide eyed audience. So enthralled was I with her performance, I was completely unaware of the conspiracy that was about to befall me. After four songs, Clara smiled at her appreciative audience and waited for the applause to stop before stepping to the microphone. "Thanks for coming along tonight, its good to be back after such long break." Again she waited for the clapping to stop. "Been doin a lot of thinking while I've been away, guess I've made a few silly mistakes, but its all behind me now. I've got some new songs for you tonight, hope you like them. Before I go any further, I want to introduce you to my inspiration, a man who's kinda changed my life when I most needed it. When I first met him, he asked me what it was like to stand in front of thousands of people and wow them. He don't know it yet, but I'm gonna ask him to step on the stage and accompany me on an acoustic version of some new material." The next thing I know is that I'm being led out on stage, Jeff Mills was waiting and handed me my guitar with a big grin. "Tuned and plugged in, ready to go. Knock em dead." Two tall stools had been placed in front of me; Clara was waiting in one and pointing to the other. I managed to stumble onto the second stool, I played an A cord to ensure everything was as it should be. Clara grinned at me before giving me a wink; then turned to the microphone. "This song we've named 'Forgotten Yesterdays'." They told me that I didn't open my eyes until the end of the first verse which I guess was probably true. The excitement then overcame my nerves, and my eyes turned to Clara who was holding the microphone and singing with that deep pure voice. With bright lights focused on the stage, I couldn't see out into the audience, which was probably a good thing. We'd practiced our new material time and time again getting it right, but hearing it amplified out into that theatre was surely something else, the mellow sound of my guitar complimenting Clara's powerful voice as she mesmerised our audience. I accompanied Clara with three songs before I took my shaking knees back to the rear of the stage, but only after rapturous applause. Clara gave me a little peck on the cheek and whispered into my ear that it was probably time to give up my day job. My life changed dramatically after that night, for I did indeed leave my day job. Over the next year, we produced a studio album which did very well, and then hit the road on a concert tour. Half way through each concert, I would do four ballads with Clara, and then she would get the band back on stage for the more rocky material. Clara never failed to amaze me with her almost Jeckle and Hyde type behaviour. During the day she could be an uncompromising bitch, pushing the band with rehearsal after and rehearsal until everyone was ready to drop, an uncompromising young woman who would stubbornly stand her ground against anybody to get what she wanted. But it was the same woman that would curl up into bed beside me at night and cuddle up like a child. Over that time, we grew very close as a couple, her affection towards me was always there, the holding of hands, or the tiny pecks on the cheek, or those lovely smiles that would instantly turn my heart to jelly. As time went on, I thought more and more about formalising our relationship; and on a whim purchased a very large engagement ring. I carried that ring in a box in my pocket for nearly two weeks before I conjured up the bravery to pop the question. We were in a fine restaurant when I knelt before her on one knee and offered her the engagement ring. I guess Clara was surprised as most of the other diners at my gesture, and looked down at me with her big soulful eyes for a few seconds. "Will you marry me?" I asked. Clara got down off her chair and knelt in front of me, taking my face in her hands, she kissed me passionately for a few seconds. "You're a silly, silly man." she muttered ignoring our audience. "Why silly?" "Cause you didn't have to wait for this long to ask me." she replied while offering her finger for the ring. We got a standing ovation from the other diners which looking back was kind of embarrassing, and the restaurant gave us our meals on the house. But Clara later told me it was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. Isn't it funny how life turns out? I hated the person who stole my trusty guitar from my car those so many months back. But if he hadn't, what would have been the chances of me meeting Clara, probably none? I'd still be working as an insurance investigator, probably without a girlfriend and minding my own business in an otherwise boring existence. I never expected to see Clara again after I'd been beaten up; the fact that she remembered me enough to try and find me is something I'll always cherish. Clara once told me that having someone to love has made her life that much more worthwhile, and I'll make sure that I'm a good friend as well as a lover. Her sense of humour hasn't waned, for she still loves to shock me with her sometimes crude proposals and mannerisms, but I love her heaps and wouldn't have it any other way. I'm bright enough to realise that our happiness will depend on how much effort we put into our relationship which our unusual lifestyle will no doubt put added pressure upon, but I've got this real good feeling its going to work out okay.