Paula was buzzing as she pulled into the garage, her adrenaline was still riding high from the concert. The whiskey and Coke she’d drunk were also in her system, making her blood zing like fire—though she’d actually had just one drink, necked sharply as the music had begun.
She simply loved live music and seeing Bruno—her favourite singer—had made her entire year. There were only two other times she’d seen him live, and both had been much bigger venues. This one had sexy vibes and had been deliciously intimate.
Paula had been saving up for a while and had splurged on a front-row seat as a guilty pleasure. She’d been so close to Bruno on stage; she could make out his individual eyelashes and smell his signature scent. He was leather and beard oil, dust and lusty intentions.
He had looked directly at her a number of times. It had been sexily fierce and she’d wanted him to know how much she desired him. Paula had been easily able to blank out the others in the audience. It was like he was singing just to her. Bruno and his deeply erotic lyrics—his long fingers and lean body seemed fully in tune to hers.
In the dark garage now, Paula leant her head back onto the leather head-rest. Bruno’s throaty voice still reverberated through her body as he continued to sing to her through the stereo system in her new car. She’d spent serious money getting a top-notch sound system in there—it had bass for days. Paula liked flash.
Memories of Bruno flashed ferociously at her—both in her head and deep in her core. Paula didn’t want to get out of her seat. The fantasy of being the only one that Bruno had been singing to was engulfing her still. The heat of his attention crawling over her, as if they were his full, sensuous lips making tracks on her skin. She could see his dark and stormy eyes, the intensity of him setting her on fire.
Bruno crooned and Paula’s body responded. She still could sense the flaring heat deep in her belly, it was undeniable. The animal in her was a sucker for a singer—she couldn’t explain how sexy it was to be performed to. When she had the power to just enjoy and listen, to luxuriate as a man paid homage to her in sweet song and deep rhythm.
Paula pulled a lock of her hair down with her fingers and twirled her black curls. She was restless, wanting more of Bruno to satisfy her need but lacking a clear direction to head in.
There was condensation on the car windows, she noticed. Paula rolled a pane down and let a drop of the liquid idle on her finger. The cool water fell down her wrist. She was wet in more ways than one…
Her lace thong had not been up to the job of keeping her dry tonight. Her thighs were still moist and she shifted in her seat to let some air circulate and perhaps cool them down.
Paula had dressed up to the nines though and her tight skirt made it hard to air herself. The skirt was made of a latex-type material that looked slickly black against her upper legs. A little like she were covered in oil and ready to tussle in a play-fight. That sounded fun to her right now. She wanted to grab at Bruno, like they were creatures in heat, to play and to fuck and to make a glorious mess.
Paula fingered her nipples. It was good to be touched. She wanted more—touching and licking and sucking and all of it. She was wearing a cropped-top made of glittery crochet. It had kept her top half feeling unrestricted and free during the concert.
Paula didn’t need to wear a bra and sometimes she let a little nipple show in her crocheted tops. No harm in it really, she was just a little naughty. She loved taking men by surprise and flashing them a quick shot of her flirty pink nubs.
Paula liked being naughty. She recalled that her nipples had been hard while she’d listened to Bruno, even though the venue had been warm, almost humid, in the monsoon-like air. They were aching now, with need and lust. Her breasts needed attention, they wanted to be seen.
If it had been just the two of them, a private concert, Paula might have flashed Bruno more than a bit of nipple. She would have exposed her pert breasts fully and slipped off her tiny thong to let Bruno get a little view each time she crossed and uncrossed her legs.
Paula imagined the two of them, locked in, eye-fucking each other, daring and thrilling to the point where something—anything—had to give.
Paula let her own hand slip to her waist. It was titillating imagining Bruno. She wanted him there, to play games with him and to seduce him like a vixen might. She wanted something raw and physical, to ride his body, like it were his song and essence.
Paula moved the tips of her fingers and traced them around her tiny waist. The garage was like a cocoon, she could visualise herself anywhere. She trailed her fingers down into the hem of her skirt and brought to mind Bruno on stage again. Just the two of them. A private show. Bruno with his liquid gold eyes and that silky voice of his that melted millions.
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He would watch Paula closely while she listened to him sing, getting hornier and hornier. He would serenade her bold masturbation with a solo.
Paula would put on a return show for him. She would attend to her own stiff nipples and gently circle each of her areolas under her see-through top. Bruno would be mesmerised and she would tempt him some more by lightly lifting up the crochet of her top again, flashing him some underboob and reminding him of the fact that she was bra-less.
She’d tease a full reveal by slowly lifting her top higher and higher. Making it seem like she was changing her mind maybe, before finally showing off her peachy, perfect boobs.
She would lick her fingers and then take their damp tips straight to each nipple. Her moans of pleasure would only be audible to herself, but Bruno would see her mouth open, her back arch. In return, he would drip extra honey and sexual need into his own voice.
Rain started to fall as Paula sat lost in her sexy reverie and dripped heavily against the garage roof. The patter of it drowned out some of the stereo but Paula still felt powerfully connected to Bruno and his music. Emboldened by the extra padding of water noise, she played out more of her fantasy world in the privacy of her mind.
Bruno and herself locked in an unspoken, heated dialogue. Her fingers stroking and touching her silky brown skin with Bruno watching from the stage, guitar in hand, strumming her lust with his fingers.
He’d looked so tasty in the smoky spotlight tonight. Every year he seemed more seasoned, better-spirited and lustier. Bruno increased in pure sex appeal as his voice got more gravelly and his laugh lines deepened like crevasses.
His face was made for the stage. Women devoured him like they had the greats—Elvis, Jagger and Bruce Springsteen came to mind. Like them, Bruno had thick, sooty lashes and wavy hair that begged to be touched. He had warm, earthy charisma and hard, chiselled cheekbones that enticed and lured everyone, not just the women.
Bruno had a reputation for dating the divas though—strong, sexy women who took the world as their stage. She admired him for taking the more interesting route. It was easy for high-profile men to take wives who merely obeyed, but Paula reckoned these submissives were less fun in the bedroom.
Paula strongly suspected that the women Bruno had been linked to in the past were sexual firebrands—adventuresses and desiring of extreme physical passion. Women hungry in more than one way.
Paula would play up to it. She could demand exactly what she wanted in her private concert fantasy. She’d ensure she had Bruno’s attention and then hitch her skirt right up, wriggling down the chair until her undies were visible. Her bare ass would be against the cold plastic but she wouldn’t care.
She’d cock a finger at Bruno and he would be drawn to her as if she were a flame. Dangerous, hot and ready to smoke him.
He’d come over, slowly and a touch warily, but would drop to his knees easily at her push so they were on the same level. She’d pull him in and blink slowly at him, letting her warm breath caress his face. Paula would lean right in and linger her lips on his. He’d grab her head in return and kiss her a little roughly. Then his hands would fall lower, kneading at the sides of her ass.
Her clit throbbed. Paula wanted the reality of Bruno there with her now. She wanted him to unbuckle his pants and take his delicious cock out. She wanted to swallow it and wet it thoroughly with her mouth. Then she wanted to tug the tip of his cock, with its pearlescent drips, over her breasts one by one, painting the nipples with his juice.
And then she wanted to drag Bruno’s shaft deep into her body. She wanted to fill herself up with Bruno and his cum. She wanted every little bit of him—to consume his passion and power.
The rain right now was abating somewhat. Still, Paula lingered in the car. Her hands were roaming over her body as she relished memories of the concert and Bruno’s sexy face. The album she was playing shifted to one of Bruno’s more sultry songs. Just him and his guitar, singing directly to her, seeking her core out and making it vibrate in pleasure.
Paula was so turned on—her body was literally thrumming. Her wandering fingers were just making her hotter. She wondered idly how it would turn out if she could call on Bruno to fill her fantasies.
It was late, she was having fun; Paula let her mind wander without any constraint. She would phone Bruno in her head and have it play out like a sexy dream…
“Hello?” A sleepy drawl as Bruno answered on the third ring.
“Hey, it’s Paula. I’m half naked in my garage. My fancy car just isn’t doing it for me…”
“You want me to come entertain you?” Bruno’s voice was mischievous. Her pussy twinged with anticipation.
“Yes please, baby,” she purred. “I’m DTF right now.”
The Bruno of her mind was there in moments. Paula imagined opening the door for him and this made her bare nipples tighten again. Bruno’s gaze would be afire, taking her in, admiring her curved ass and slick body.
Paula enjoyed seeing his eyes dilate and she thrilled from the ego-boost of it. Bruno approached her without hesitation and took her mouth in his, crushing her lips.
Paula’s body gave in to him for a long, lingering moment—but then she took a step back and said, “Wait here a sec.”
She ran into the house and came back with a battered cowboy hat. The type Bruno was famous for wearing on stage. Bruno took it and smirked.
“Want me to go back and grab a guitar too?” He swaggered back up to her, proprietorially and with a visible erection through his tight blue jeans.
Paula giggled and re-entered his embrace. She grabbed at his crotch playfully. This Bruno belonged completely to her, she could do as she pleased.
Paula undid Bruno’s shirt. Her fingers were shaking with need. His shoulders were broad and she kissed along the top of them while he scooped her up and cupped her butt. Yesss.
Paula may not have had huge boobs but her ass was large and round. It caught everyone’s eyes, and she played up to it. She wore leather, PVC, latex, animal-print—whatever took her mood—to highlighted her perfect, curvy ass.
She just adored having her bum played with and Bruno was learning that. He spanked her lightly, testing her reaction. Paula’s underwear immediately drenched even more.
The way Bruno’s fingers slid slyly inside her glorious cheeks and then worked their way down to her slit in a teasing, tantalising way, was enough to make Paula pant like she was in heat. She could come even from the way Bruno rubbed on and around her booty. She was desperate for more.
“Just fuck me, baby,” Paula said. She didn’t want to wait much longer for her orgasm. Bruno’s concert and her own mind had heated her up to the point of no return.
Bruno twirled Paula around and bent her over the hood of the car. The metal was sharply cool against her face and she closed her eyes. He pulled off her thong without even needing to push her naughty skirt up by very much.
He entered her slowly at first and then sped up, making long, deep thrusts. Paula began to groan, it was so fucking good. She wanted to scream with abandon. Bruno’s cock was perfect, it filled her up to the point of no return. She was ecstatic with his body weight on hers and she gripped him fiercely, scratching him a little and driving him into her harder.
Bruno himself was about to lose control when he stepped back and with a concerted effort, redirected himself. He flipped her back and started kissing up her legs. His lips were light against Paula’s skin and she caught herself admiring his thick head of hair.
Paula watched him pay homage to her, his dark hair bobbing. It was mystical, like when he sang to her. She loved when men performed for her. Bruno worked his way up, slowly and torturously. Her orgasm which had been peaking, receded a touch.
“Bruno!” Paula exclaimed in frustration, but he didn’t speed up. He was leading this encore.
He finally made it back to her crotch and using his fingers, spread her open. Paula could smell herself, she was like a sensual cave, filled with mystery and musk—wanting to be discovered and ravished. Looted by Bruno and his big dick energy.
Bruno’s lips were hot and firmer now on her. He kissed along her clit and the wishbones either side, causing her to buck into him as her blood surged, plumping her pussy. Paula squealed with pleasure, the full sensations making her heady and rocking her body.
As Paula became noisier and more twitchy, Bruno switched from kissing to licking. He began lapping at her juices. He was swirling his tongue around, alternately burying it deeply in her and tapping against her clit. Oh! Paula was going to come and loudly too. She gave in with a huge shudder and her body coiled hard toward orgasm.
She groaned as her sexual peak rose to its highest height. It was huge and out of control; the orgasm ripped its way out of her. She mewled and cried out—a long high note, competing with the music on the stereo.
The rain was less heavy now, so her orgasmic song sounded loud in the tight space. The heat flushed all the way up and down her body.
It was like a flame, consuming her. Just as the last song ended on the album, and its final notes floated away, she gasped out, “I’m on fire,” and collapsed back against her seat.
Paula was sexually spent. She took her time and stretched her neck out from side to side as she came back to herself. She had been steaming up the windows in the car even more—and her hands were drenched and clamped. Her whole body was loose and woozy at the same time, the ache between her thighs feeling like the aftermath of a rowdy party.
Paula stretched out her right hand, the one that had played with that single drop of water earlier. She splayed her fingers. They were sticky with her own juices now… She rubbed them against the window, using the condensation to moisten the tackiness on her fingers.
The pattern her hand made on the glass looked like a piece of abstract art. Paula thought back to her teenage years, when she would use any opportunity to display her crushes’ names, all over her notebooks and diaries, carved into her wooden desk—and often scribbled into the condensation on her glass shower walls.
She grinned, leaned forward and wrote out ‘Bruno’ in her steamed up rear-view mirror, his name looking mistily sexy.
The End
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