Let's Play...
It is not a Hollywood ass, the kind that I hate so much. It's not a bony, skinny, look-at-my-terribly-toned-body type of ass. The kind that you try to grab but miss all the time. The kind that you can't find any purchase on when you want to lift her that necessary inch up higher on her toes. The kind that can actually hurt you when it is unconsciously pushed into your groin on a dance floor or in bed. The kind that constantly reminds me of how people feel the need to fake themselves once they think they are something in the industry.
Hers is a soft, beautiful, plump, I-know-it's-too-obvious-but-I-couldn't-be-bothered-with-working-out kind of ass. The kind I want to smack every once in a while just to see a red blotch form on mother-of-pearl white. The kind I need to snuggle up against to either succumb to long, comfortable sleep or give in to powerful, throbbing desire, knowing both are fine with her. Simply the kind of ass I want to touch all the time because it feels safe and warm and natural to do so.
We reach the top of the stairs and I blush some more when I realise what I have been thinking of for the past twenty steps and I am grateful she doesn't turn around to see if I'm still with her.
We emerge from Tottenham Court Road underground station and frankly, I am glad to breathe fresh air again, having felt cooped up and watched during the ten-minute-or-so ride from her cosy little place to London's central shopping streets. The train ride itself wasn't that bad, she buried her head in my shoulder and gave me the perfect excuse to nuzzle her hair and obscure myself from public scrutiny. But the waiting on platforms and the standing in queues to get on the escalators freaked me out, as I unmistakably sensed how more and more people started to notice me. The papers here have been full of my being in town and even with my glasses on people seem to recognise 'Frodo' a little too easily.
Waiting for the lights to go green, she whips her head around which sends her hair flying, her beautiful smile firmly in place. She grabs my hand. "You okay?" she asks, barely audible over the noise in the street, and I nod, squeezing her hand. Her smile intensifies and she turns her head back, watching the many cabs and buses and other daredevil-drivers pass by on one of London's most crowded streets.
The light changes and we cross. She quickly pulls me into a sidestreet, immediately taking a turn to her right and then, finally, she slows her pace. I still have her hand in mine and come up beside her, scanning the street ahead for a possible destination. Just when I think about asking her, she stops and I can't help but grin when I look up to read a small sign hanging from the wall. It's no wonder I overlooked this place as it is tiny as hell, but peeping through the windows I already know I am going to enjoy myself inside.
"This, my dear," she starts on a hilariously formal note. "Is the best shop in town if you are in dire need of an indie-vinyls-music fix." She gives me a quick peck on the cheek, and pushes me towards the door. "Go on," she coos. "You know you want to." I hear her giggle and can't help but do the same.
I push the door open and find myself inside Division where I am pleasantly faced with rows and rows of records, all fighting to be labelled most-obscure-album-ever, and a new rush of blood, of a completely different caliber this time, heads to all my tingly spots.
She disappears from my periphery once we're inside, but that probably has more to do with my mysteriously increasing myopia every time I am in the vicinity of rare vinyl records than her wish to talk to someone behind the counter in the back of the store.
Too excited to start a thorough, systematic search, I just walk past the racks of albums sorted by genre and alphabet, occasionally lifting this or that, only to discover to my delight that the record is kept within its sleeve here. I pull one out gingerly and read the credits in the middle, then turn the black disc over in a practiced twirl of thumbs and middle fingers and breathe in that funny smell of vinyl that makes my head spin.
Pretty soon I am completely lost in the maze of racks, having disposed of my increasing pile of soon-to-be-owned records on the corner of a rare box-set display, quite successfully ignoring the guilt trip that usually precedes my occasional I-spend-way-too-much-money-on-this-freaking-addiction monster purchase.
I felt homesick last night, I dreamt of Dom tonight and called my mother this morning when we were having breakfast in bed. But here, now, with the booty growing surely and steadily by my elbow, I forget it all and the soothing tranquility I always yearn for when I miss my home finally settles within me and I feel...
"Happy?" I hear a gentle voice behind me and two arms slide around my waist. I nod and hum softly, pre-occupied as I am with a rare Tim Buckley album, reading the credits on the back of the sleeve and pondering if I am willing to pay the necessary fifty pounds for it.
She holds me in place and softly kisses the back of my neck, drawing teeny tiny circles with the tip of her tongue, stroking my chest and belly through the fabric of my t-shirt. I absent-mindedly place the Buckley record on top of the others that I want to buy and lift the next album, another gem that undoubtedly needs my close inspection.
The knowledge that my one serious addiction is going to be satisfied this afternoon combined with the feel of her overwhelming warmth and curvy softness against my back makes me heady and dizzy and I almost drop the record I am holding in my hands when I lean against her and moan softly and close my eyes, relishing the heat in my stomach and the obscene speed with which my cock has already started to swell and stiffen.
Only when her deft hands start pulling my t-shirt over the waistband of my jeans, do I remember again where I am, where we are. I try to turn around to check the man who must still be behind the counter, but she just tightens her grip and continues to snake her hand under my shirt, caressing my bare skin.
"Don't worry about him," I hear her say, so close to my ear that I can feel the moistness of her breath against my skin. She turns me around in her arms and we face each other. I look into her sparkling eyes that are wide with lust and I have trouble registering what she is actually doing to me.
"Someone might come in," I mumble almost incoherently and ineffectively try to stop her hands from unzipping my jeans, in which my traitorous cock is already leaking and throbbing painfully. She smiles conspiratorily and shakes her head, all the while searching for the opening in my boxers. Her fingers are cold on my rampant cock and I gasp, too loud, too intense, and despite her efforts to reassure me I still look around frantically, scared to get caught.
"I locked the door," she whisper-giggles, as her fingers pull my cock through the opening in my boxers. It juts out obscenely erect amid a sea of blue denim and when I look down I can only groan, frustrated by the sudden need to be touched and the fear of getting caught.
"And Will is a friend of mine..." she continues. "Who was most delighted when I offered to watch the shop for him while he is off to grab some lunch." She gives me another one of her plotting smiles and I just look at her helplessly. "I even told him to take his time," she adds with a smirk and I nod dumbly, completely overwhelmed by how exposed I am in this public place with its floor-to-ceiling windows.
I grab the nearest rack behind me in order to find some support as I watch her get down on her knees in front of me. I vaguely register how she has just obscured herself from view, so anyone who happens to take a look inside will only see my back.
"Ever been sucked in a record store, Lij?" she asks softly and licks her lips elaborately, causing me to groan again and spread my legs some more. She wiggles closer on her knees and my cock twitches in anticipation when I see her hands disappear around my ass, kneading them softly in teasing foreplay of the moment her lips will actually close around my precum-sticky tip.
"Well?" she asks again, kissing my stomach, tracing a path around my navel in long wet swipes. I am desperately trying to say something, but it is hard to concentrate on anything other than the fight that is going on inside my brain between the heatwaves of lust that are about to be set loose within me and my very-much-alarmed common sense that keeps informing me I am going too far this time.
"Elijah..." she breathes, being very well aware of how I will be reduced to nothing once she starts using my full name, causing my lust to score a ludicrous amount of points and leaving my common sense out in the cold.
"Elijah..." it comes again, and I close my eyes, shivering when I really feel the heat of her breath ghosting over the tip of my cock. Involuntarily, my hands go to her hair, but she sits back on her haunches and arches out of my grasp.
"Nuh-uh," she giggles, in full tease-mode now. "You have to answer my question first."
I open my eyes and finally look down at her, knowing it will be my undoing, sending my common sense packing all over again. Our eyes lock and I shake my head. I try to say no, but that one simple word just won't come and I settle for swallowing hard and shaking my head a second time, struggling to exhale.
In reward, she leans forward again, her hands rucking my jeans and boxers down to just below my ass, then using her blush-hot cheek to still the sway of my cock. She moves her head only fractionally now, and as I keep looking down, I can't help but grow harder at the sight of her face caressing me. Her lips are slightly parted and I feel the heat of her breath catch between both springy, dark curls and my heavy, coiling balls. I groan, as it is almost too much to bear, and suddenly I feel the pain in my fingers as I clutch the iron rack behind me even harder, pushing into it with too much force and unintentionally shifting the heavy row of albums stacked in it.
"Do you want me to suck you in a record store?" her teasing voice is back again, and it takes a while for my brain to understand what my eyes and ears have already registered.
I watch her face move the slightest bit away from my cock and it sways free yet again. Her lips connect with the inside of my thigh, where they start to lick my skin in tiny circles. Then she clamps her mouth hard over my sensitive flesh and sucks. She never takes her eyes off me, in fact, she stares at me with such intensity while she abuses the tender flesh of my thigh, that I suddenly understand she is marking me. When I feel her teeth nipping at the flaming red spot on the inside of my leg, my cock twitches from the combination of pain and pleasure, and I watch myself oozing more precum, which turns me on so much I have to seriously fight the urge to touch myself.
I manage to utter a primal 'yes' in response to her question, which earns me another swipe of her tongue, right where my thigh joins the rest of my body. We both groan this time and I throw my head back, panting, staring at the high ceiling, fearing I will just come from watching her beautiful face so close to my cock.
When I feel one of her hands come to rest against my chest I bend my head back and look down again. "Open," she whispers. It takes me forever to realise that she wants me to open my mouth, but when her intentions finally dawn on me, my left hand gives up on its death grip around the steel bar of the rack and moves to grab her wrist.
I bend my head down even more so her hand can reach up to my face, and when I open my mouth I hear her breath catch. I start by simply licking her fingers with the flat of my tongue... Thumb, index, middle finger...
"Tell me what you like, okay?" I hear her voice in the distance and I mutter an unintelligible response, far too preoccupied with the way my tongue slicks messily around her little pinky, hungrily closing my lips around it, sliding it in and out of my mouth in a steady rhythm.
Suddenly, a giant wave of seemingly unbearable heat washes over me when her mouth closes around my cock and her lips mirror mine sucking her fingers. Her other hand is hot and insistent against the skin of my stomach and this three-way assault threatens to short-circuit my systems.
I look down and watch her face, noticing how her eyes fall shut as she slowly, teasingly pulls back, allowing the tip of my cock to rest against her scorching lips. I watch her tongue dart out from between them and circle around my cock softly, wetting it, slicking it. I still her hand in mine and wait with her.
Then, with an obscenely squelching sound, I take her middle finger completely into my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, sucking it until I fear it might bruise, and my fogged up brain registers how she does exactly the same to me. The very moment she sucks around my engorged flesh, my knees almost buckle and I grab behind me again, feeling the records dig into my back sharp and painfully, but grateful for the support they provide.
She sucks in and releases my almost pathetically weeping for release flesh in long, steady, breath-stopping swipes and doesn't stop when she suddenly removes her fingers from my mouth, leaving me gasping and groaning with the loss of them.
"You liked that, didn't you," she whispers, blowing hot breath against my stomach and she kisses my still leaking tip. "I'll make it so good for you."
She sets up another powerful rhythm of suck-sliding her lips around my cock and since I am not being able to do anything else I just close my eyes and let the scorching heat wash over me, let the prickling, tingling sensation in my stomach travel to my aching balls that are begging to be touched, and let my head fall back, breath coming in loud, laboured gasp-groans.
When I feel how her hand travels from behind my back towards my ass, fingers still slithery with copious amounts of my saliva, I hardly dare to anticipate what she might do to me in that place, even though my body is silently screaming for it, for more, for an elecric, full-on assault, so overpowering that I fear I might pass out from sensory overload.
She lingers, cupping my ass gently, like she is waiting for my consent. "Do it," I say, hoarse and determined, searching her eyes with mine. "Push in. I need it."
Reassured by my command, she finds her way between my cheeks and probes around softly, but that is exactly what I don't want. "Just push in," I groan between heavy breaths. "Hard. I can take it." I notice there is a trace of doubt still in her eyes, but she decides to trust me and presses in at the very moment she resumes her mind-blowing suction on my cock and the dual sensation of a front-to-back onslaught forces me dangerously close to the edge.
"That's so good..." I cannot help but moan, throwing my head back once again, my hands letting go of the metal rack as I want to sink my fingers into her thick, dark hair and drag them over her scalp, egging her on, feeling her rhythmic movements under my hands.
"Sooo good," I drawl again, rapidly losing focus now, and I start to buck up into her mouth, desperately trying not to. I grunt my appreciation at the ceiling in loud, animalistic exhalations and when I feel her other hand come around to finally cup and squeeze my heavy, neglected balls, I let loose a final growling cry and topple over the edge.
I have my eyes screwed shut as I shudder through my orgasm that seems to take forever, the focus of my brain reduced solely to the electrifying sensation of spurting hard and hot against the back of her mouth over and over again, as she refuses to let me go, hell-bent on swallowing every last drop I have to give.
She is pushing my already slumping body against the rack with one hand, trying to prevent me from crashing to the floor, while her other hand regularly stops and starts kneading my aching balls, expertly drawing every last possible shuddering convulsion out of me, swallowing around me in time with my slowly subsiding spurts, making me aware again of the world around me, grounding me gently as the last spasms ease off.
Despite her efforts to keep me standing, my knees eventually give out and I slide to the floor, resting my back against the rare box-set display, and I gather her in my arms while pressing her close to my body which is still shuddering with aftershocks. She hides her face in the warmth of my neck and I nuzzle her hair, breathing in her scent, softly licking her forehead, craving her sweat.
Catching my breath in her arms on the floor of a record store where I just had my cock sucked to kingdom-come and back, is not the first thing that came to mind when she asked me what I would like to do on my day off. It feels like heaven, though, and I place soft kisses all over her face, trying to show my gratitude while my voice is still off-line.
"Your heart has stopped hammering," she informs me on a breathy whisper and lifts her head from my chest, her fingers brushing against my lips, lingering in our warm satisfaction just a second longer. Then she lets go and stands up, groaning a bit with the effort, giggling when she looks at my own attempts to drag my uncooperative body off the floor.
I pull my jeans and boxers up and my still uncertain hands clumsily tuck away my cock which is spent but pleasantly tingling in the afterglow. I zip up, adjust myself some more, sigh deeply and finally look up into her face. I flash her my cheekiest grin.
"That was the best blowjob I ever had," I chuckle and she smiles her wide-eyed-delighted smile while she brushes her hair out of her face and stands up straight, looking at her watch and picking up my stack of records as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened just now.
"I know," she giggles softly. "I saw."
She turns one of the records around and reads the credits. "And I heard." I feel a blush starting to surface but I decide I don't care. To give myself some purpose I go back to searching for more music, steadily trying to ignore her smiling eyes that I know are boring into me.
"And I felt it too, Lij," she whispers, suddenly very close to me. I put the record down and turn my face so I can look at her, well-aware of the fact that my blush is rampant and not going anywhere anytime soon. Fuck that.
"Over and over and over again," she whispers once more, pronouncing every word with the greatest care, close to my cheek. "And I swallowed it all." I drop my eyes, my nerves too raw yet to handle such exposure right now.
"You were so hot, Elijah," her seductively whispered words are tiny puffs of breath on my face.
I raise my eyes and try to form a coherent reply, when I am interrupted by the loud noises with which the heavy door of the store is suddenly pushed open and Will, the owner, who has apparently returned from his lunch, barges in.
"Found anything you liked, luv?" he asks and eyes the pile of records still lying on the corner of the rare box-set display. "Or do you need some advice about what's hot and what's not? Sorry to have left you to yourself for so long, but I had to get some change at the bank and with my sister around, I knew nothing shocking would happen here..."
Too flabbergasted to say anything at all, I simply hand him the embarrassingly huge stack of albums and pull out my wallet, quickly throwing a glance at her, trying in vain to be angry.
She looks back at me, softly squeezes my hand and offers her beautiful smile.
A/N: The record shop mentioned in this fic actually exists, only the name I tampered with a bit.
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