We’d lost that connection. That spark. I never thought it would happen to us. We’re childhood sweethearts—always prided ourselves on our chemistry—how lucky we were to meet so young. Soulmates.
We’d met in a high school Jazz club, him on the guitar, me the soprano sax. I wasn’t too good but you could just tell he’d be getting a scholarship to a music college. We’d fallen in love over a terrible rendition of Summertime, absolutely murdered the poor song, but there’s only so much you can expect from a senior year band who are itching to get out of the place and to a party somewhere.
He must have been so fucking bored, waiting for everyone to catch up and hit the right notes. He didn’t even need to practice. Music was instinctual. The way his fingers danced and plucked at those strings had me quivering.
We’d gone on to the same uni, different studies of course. I left my sax behind but we were inseparable from the first kiss and the thought of any time apart at all, education or no education, had us distraught.
I contented myself on a business course. Fitting in, attending classes, listless with the distraction of wanting to be with him every second of every day.
My friends said it was unhealthy. My parents didn’t approve, calling us obsessional. We put it down to jealousy and spent every second we could, fucking on our bedroom floor while jazz played on the record player.
If our love for each other was obsessional, there was one other area that matched our passion—Jay’s love of jazz. If he wasn’t playing out his scores on my body, thrilling and bringing me to a flurry of climaxes, he was playing his guitar. Frenetic harmonics filled our home at all hours day or night. Sometimes it eased into the delicious gentle ebb and flow of bluesy scales, others it was a screeching tempest of improvised sound. I can’t say I enjoyed every tune if you can call it tuneful, but I absolutely adored Jay’s dedication and passion, waiting for my turn to be played. My pussy the strings, my nipples the arpeggios. His sweet music raised goosebumps over every part of my soul and flesh and the way he sometimes caught my gaze while he was performing, my god. A girl could die in that gaze, be eaten up and lifted to heaven which I’m sure existed in the dark pools of his musician’s eyes.
What had happened to us? We’d fallen into the trap of living without magic for the past couple of years. Gigs had dried up, I’d lost motivation in my job, recession, rent hikes, we’d become bogged down in the daily grind and had somehow let it happen.
Something so gradual that you don’t even notice, and that’s the scariest thing of all.
It was today, as I passed the local theatre and saw a poster for Dana Vine. I stopped in my tracks as I remembered something Jay had said about this kid being an amazing new talent. I went in on impulse and bought the tickets—a one night show, that very night! What were the chances? It was a sign I was sure.
Jay needed a bit of inspiration, I needed inspiration. How had we become so jaded? We needed some of that spark romantic sex gives you.
I stowed the tickets in my purse and practically skipped all the way home. Here’s a strange thing, have you ever noticed the music playing in your own head? It was always my constant companion and it’s suddenly back and I realise how bereft I’d been, I hadn’t been listening for months. I let it flood my imagination and it sparked a chain reaction of visceral memories. Music and fucking, fucking and music. Jazz fingers up inside me, notes, keys, strings all combining into a seduction of fuck.
Excitement bubbled at my throat as I raced home to kindle this spark with Jay, suddenly shocked at how stagnant we’d let ourselves become. I was overwhelmed with the need to see him, touch him, love him again.
I unlocked the front door and tore into the house. Of course, he was out teaching. Some reluctant kid with pushy parents thinking their child was the next Guthrie Govan. Passion, though, is something you cannot teach. The most heart-breaking thing of all for Jay is those kids who have the sweetest talent but not the spirit. They don’t have the passion. I tell him he’s one in a million—the combination is so very rare. Talent and passion—it’s an alchemy of the music gods, and Jay had it.
I paused and caught my breath, surveying the living room. Picking up some discarded clothes and mugs I decided to give the place a clean, perhaps get it ready for a seduction after the gig.
By the time I’d finished, there was only an hour until the start of the show—damn—Jay would be leaving his last student and be on his way home soon. I didn’t want him to come here first and spoil the surprise. The room was looking gorgeous. I’d placed candles around and sorted the lighting to make sure the ambience was set. New fresh linen on the bed and everything was clean and lush. Very nice. I quickly grabbed my phone and clicked his contact.
“Hi babe,” I said, trying to stay neutral, he was good at picking up my mood and I usually spoiled all the surprises by giving my excitement away.
“Hey, I’m just about to hop on the bus.”
“No!” I squealed, so much for keeping my cool, “No you can’t! Get a cab to Green’s in town and I’ll meet you for a drink.” Before he could say anything I continued, “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Oh yeah?” He started but I cut him off and hurriedly scrabbled in my wardrobe for something a bit sexy. Looking out the window, I shivered, and thought better of a slinky number, choosing instead my cotton whites and some cosy socks. I know I know, not cool. But nothing sinks my libido faster than cold feet so I opted for casual but chic in some good jeans and leather boots. I slicked my lips with gloss, ruffled up my hair and grabbed my bag, checking the tickets were still safe inside.
*
“So what’s all this about?” Jay asked as I slotted in next him at the bar. He’d already got me a margarita. The first sip made those bubbles of excitement fly again and I knew my face was flushed and eyes sparkling as I lifted my glass to his for a cheers.
“Well,” I said, holding his gaze. A surge of arousal swept through my body as all the sex memories of really looking at someone, opened those doors to pleasure past, present and future. “I just thought we needed a little bit of reignition.”
He smiled softly and took a long drag of his beer, never breaking eye contact.
“We do,” he said, a flicker of sadness threatened to crack at the edges but he lifted his posture and beamed me a smile. “I have a secret of my own…”
“Oh yeah?” Well my, my, we’d both hit a vibe today.
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to his own crotch inviting mine to follow. “I’m wearing my Diesels.”
I grin, those were his fuck me pants we’d bought on a trip to a Barcelona jazz festival where we’d basically missed most of the bands, holed up in our hotel shagging so hard my pussy felt bruised for days.
Funny how synchronicity works.
“Let’s go home and fuck like we used to,” he said, a glint in his eye pulled me back to our youth. How many parties and concerts we’d missed by saying, screw it, let’s go home and fuck.
Shit, the concert! I had almost forgotten about it—we’d been sitting there for almost an hour. The warm-up band would hopefully still be playing.
“No, not yet,” I said reaching into my purse, “I’ve got another surprise!”
He smiled, “Are you wearing your bed socks already?”
I spluttered laughing and blushed. “Maybe…” He’d known what that meant—wearing my bed socks out meant a fuck was most definitely on the cards. No transition into cold bare feet to kill my mood, just straight to the point.
“Well, what are we waiting for?”
He grabbed hold of my wrist, dragging my hand to his crotch under the bar where a substantial bulge was already growing.
“No, Jay, I mean, yes, but first I actually do have a surprise.”
With my other hand, my fingers wrapped around the thin cardboard and pulled out the tickets and slid them along the bar to Jay.
He looked down and touched them, all the while, gripping my hand to his stirring cock.
“Really? Now?” He beamed at me, “I love this chick! Tonight, really?”
His smile was utterly captivating and I melted, my heart and my pussy. He was so fucking stunning in that moment. The passion and verve had well and truly sparked back into life and he jerked his pelvis into my hand under the bar.
“Thank you so fucking much.” He released my wrist and ran his fingers through his hair which flopped back into place in the most endearing way. He looked up and caught my gaze, a flicker of seriousness crossing his visage. “Seriously Ness, thank you.”
His eyes glistened in that way that said we both knew we’d lost something for a while—but here we were, ready to get back to us.
*
The concert was completely ruined by our sexual desperation. While scales, arpeggios and free-falling frenetic notes assaulted our ears, we couldn’t concentrate. All we wanted was release—connection and release. My fingers were numb by the time we made it out to a waiting taxi, only halfway through the gig. Jay had been holding my hand so tight my fingertips were blue and he massaged the life back into them on the ride home.
“I love you so fucking much, Ness,” he said, eyes shining with emotion.
“You too.” My voice hitched.
The front door slammed shut with the weight of us falling against it, his mouth on mine, down my neck tearing open my shirt and consuming my flesh with nibbles and a hunger I hadn’t witnessed in what felt like forever.
“Fuck Jay,” I said, gasping, as he shoved his hips in between my thighs, jutting into me and lifting me off my feet, pressing my back into the door as I wrapped my legs around his waist. The letterbox tore into my back and I had to wriggle and shriek, half laughing half irritated that the moment was being disturbed.
“Babe, my back,” I said, bucking myself off the door and deeper into him.
“Oh fuck sorry.” He staggered backwards, hoisting me higher to carry me. It wasn’t graceful, but it was hot as hell and his fingers pulled my ass cheeks apart roughly as we made it through to the bedroom.
My knickers were sodden, his probing digits pulling them to the side as we kissed each other hard and passionately, my pussy wet and throbbing as our tongues entangled. Yes, yes, I mumbled and whimpered into his lips and he kept working my cunt from underneath, pushing, separating, hooking his fingers in and out sliding into my fiery depths.
I twisted and bucked my hips, grinding my clit up and down his torso as he played with me.
“I want you Jay, put me down and fuck me.”
It was all we could do not to actually rip each other’s clothes right off.
Fuck, the lighting was perfect. For a moment he took his focus off me and looked around.
“Well well, this really was a planned event,” he said, the glint in his eye-melting me.
“Maybe,” I countered and reached for his belt, “now come here and show me your fuck me pants.”
I dragged off his jeans, he’d been telling the truth, his sexy underwear admitting that we were both well and truly invested in the fuck today. The synchronicity almost had me tearing up but when I saw the jewel of precum glistening on the tip of his magnificent cock head peeping over the waistband, I fell to my knees and licked it off. He was delicious. My mouth watered and my pussy ached. I couldn’t wait, I wanted to stuff myself full, feast on it. I dragged off his underpants and wrapped my mouth over his head, shiny and slick it tasted of sweet and salty metal, so beautiful and taut. I took him deep into the back of my mouth, pushing against my throat. If only I could push further take him down that constricted passage, oh how he’d love me to do that. But I began to choke, tears spilled from my bulging eyes and I grasped the root of his shaft in my fists to cushion the assault. I went at him like a feral thing, gobbling and devouring him until his balls tightened and he grabbed my hair to pull me off.
“Uh, Uh, not yet, your turn my love,” he said, pushing me back into the carpet and pressing my thighs apart with his forearms.
“Mmm, yes.” My white cotton panties were quickly discarded and he dipped straight to my pussy, inhaling my wanton scent and flicking his tongue over my needy clit.
I was teetering on the edge already. I could barely stand it. My hips bucked and listed, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust. It was the only way to coax and yet, stave off my orgasm. The strangest sensation. To be so turned on that I had to actively try and avoid coming, yet the need to keep it building was overwhelming too. I was on a flurry of bliss and riding the wave of pleasure, like no arousal I’d felt before. This was letting off some pressure to the frustration we barely knew we had been experiencing. Complacency is like that—creeps up on you, and before you know it, you’re taking the best thing in your life for granted.
A moment of emotion swept through me and I paused, looking down to watch him feast of my twitching pussy as my tears threatened once more, but instead, the feeling turned to a rising in my chest and I breathed deep, refocussing on the physical.
Yes, yes this was magic.
I’d made sure the music had been poised to the perfect track and it had been lifting us too—sounds from the concert being played out all around us as we took our pleasure in each other. My whole body tingled as a high note was struck and Jay paused, his musician’s ear too tuned to let a perfect moment go unnoticed. If ever I felt like a musical note, it was now. That perfect pitch swept through my body and he fell back onto me, licking my swollen needy pussy until I was as high as the music itself.
“Fuck me Jay, I need you inside me.”
He flipped my on my side and ploughed his thick dick right in, taking me hard, the ridges dragging up inside me until I was filled with this perfect cock. He held my thighs open and we both watched him slide in and out, his shaft glistening with my juices. He was so thick, my pussy stretched around him, accommodating his length and girth. His bellend was hitting my sweet spot and my clit was crying out for attention. I reached down and frigged myself off as he ploughed me while we lay on our side. It was beautiful.
All my nerves were alight and electricity cascaded through my entire body as my climax surged in my abdomen. Oh my god, I wanted to be stretched and filled, I could take the entirety of him up inside me, fucking me to oblivion as the music consumed us too.
He threw me over onto my back, needing to be deeper. I spread my legs wide ready for the invasion. He fell into me, fucked hard and I took it all, sweat dripping from every pore as he pummelled me deep and wild on the silvery shagpile rug.
He tipped and lifted my hips up to meet his pelvis, leaning back and fucking me hard in a position that simultaneously hit my G-spot and inner clit. It was sensational. We were both moaning out with every thrust, his body shone with sweat and the effort of a good hard fuck.
My tits jerked and rolled up my body and he grabbed onto them, squeezing and dragging my nipples into life, jolts sparking from my tits to my clit. Flashes of climax rained in on me as he kept up his relentless rhythm, over and over until everything dimmed.
I held my breath high in my chest, the only awareness was the rocking back and forth from within my core, as if cast adrift on a sea of molten desire, rocking and swaying, submerged in the darkness as I closed my eyes. I breathed into the surge, the swell and surge, of the darkest wave, ebbing and sweeping out before swooping back in—climbing and lifting me to its crest, and then a drop. Everything fell away as I crashed out my orgasm over his pounding cock.
“Ah, ah Jay, I’m coming I’m coming,” I said and he was still nailing me hard, his face contorting in pleasure, in that look that says he’s about to explode.
His jaw clenched tight and he pulled out his cock holding it in his fist as he milked out his spunk onto my belly.
Holy fucking shit, it was hot. We were a hot fucking couple. Quite literally.
He flopped down on top of me, our juices and sweat mingling as the cleansing sounds of jazz cocooned us back into a world where only we exist.
Read all about the wonderful author: Miss Frolic
