Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Fifteen Minutes

There are always exceptions to be made.

Do you like Marilyn Manson? I think he’s absolutely vile and therefore, the music is hot. Anyway, I’m contemplating going to his show out in Jersey. I’ll probably get a car service for the trip. If I go, I’d like to bring someone. Any interest?

She’s lesbian, which I believe means that she prefers women to men. That she fucks me doesn’t change that. I’m the last stop on the road to lesbian; every now and then, I make a U-turn to bring one back.

I don’t care about Marilyn Manson one way or another. I would not be likely to travel to New Jersey to see him (it is him, right?) when there are perfectly fine make-up acts to ignore in the city.

But when she offered . . . well, I wasn’t going to say no. My mind doesn’t register the word “no” where she is concerned.

We weren’t interested in the opening acts—I escaped the Eighties without seeing Slayer, and I wasn’t about to ruin my good fortune—so we decided to go late. She offered to meet at my place, and to arrange for the car service to collect us there at eight thirty.

She took care of everything. I felt like a pasha.

Around seven, bleary from staring at my computer screen, I poured a bourbon and went to my bedroom to rest my eyes. I lay naked on bed, arms and legs splayed, exposing myself to the faint summer breeze blowing in from the street below.

I was out cold when she rang.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Come up. I left the door open.” I pushed the buzzer and fell back in my pillows. I looked at the time: it was just after eight. I should shower, I thought.

I heard the front door close. “Jefferson? Where are you?”

“In the bedroom, girl.”

“Its so dark . . . “ I heard her boots softly walking in my direction, bring the jangles of her jewelry along behind.

She appeared as a shadow in my door.

“Ready to rock . . .” I began, weakly.

She was on me like a cat on a mouse.

Her mouth chewed into mine, her long hair enveloping my face. My face rose to her kiss, pressing into her with sudden vigor. I grabbed her bare arms and gripped her tight. She pressed her hands against my chest.

My cock, surprised by the attack, awoke with a start.

I took her jaw in my hand, pulling as if she could come any closer. God damn it, I thought as our mouths swirled into one another, why don’t you fucking kiss me?

Her tongue lapped against my teeth. I bit. She moaned and pushed her cunt against my bare cock. I pushed back into her denim, grinding up into her.

“Fuck.” She sat up and reached behind her. One boot hit the floor, followed by its partner. Her head turned as she unfastened her jeans.

I busied myself by tweaking her nipples through her tank top. Her breasts are small, and she never wears a bra. I twisted the barbell piercings in her bud-like nipples.

She raised herself slightly, tugging at her waist. Her face was already on mine as her pants landed on the floor.

My hands grabbed at her hips, feeling the heavy metal belt she still wore.

“You are so fucking hot,” I growled through gritted teeth. “I want to fucking murder you.”

She groaned, pushing fast against my pubis.

I twisted her arm. “I’ll kill you, I fucking swear it,” I spat.

She came, buckling fast. I wrested my arms between her thighs, grabbing her ass. “Give me that pussy,” I barked. “Fucking give it.”

I pulled her forward by her ass. Her head banged into the wall as her cunt landed on my mouth.

“Unh,” she grunted, from the pain or the pleasure, I don’t know. Didn’t matter. I sucked on the metal bar that pinpointed her clit, wanting her to pour over me. My chin found its way into her as she rode my face hard.

Her head pounded against the wall.

She came again. I pushed her back. She fell slightly to one side. I breathed hard as my eyes went to the clock. Eight twenty six.

I reached to my nightstand for a condom. I didn’t care if we had two minutes or two hours, I had to fuck her.

“What time?” I asked, already abandoning language. “Car?”

“Oh,” she panted. “He’s here. I asked him to wait fifteen minutes.”

I could barely see her in the dusk. She was utterly disheveled. I laughed at the condom in my hand.

“’Fifteen minutes?’” I laughed harder. “Honey, that’s universal code for sex.”

She tugged her hair back into a bun. “Maybe, yeah? Sorry, but I needed that. You ready to go?”

I kissed her cheek and put the condom aside for later.

Marilyn Manson was waiting.

6 comments:

Anna Smash said...

I have a sneaking suspicion that I know who this voracious lady is.

Impatience is already my constant companion.

Anna Smash said...

P.S.

She took care of everything. I felt like a pasha.

Personally, I never take care of anything anymore. It is a positively wonderful way to live.

a said...

Holy shit!

Asian Big Girl said...

you're cute when you're butch ;)

H. W. Boy said...

So... how was the concert? ;-)

Jefferson said...

I'm afraid we made out for much of the concert.