dreamer
Slave
Registration Date: 06-27-2006
Posts: 179
Mistress Or Master Or Slave: Slave
Level: 37 [?]
Experience: 1,199,529
Next Level: 1,209,937
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The show went well. I felt tired out. Shows take all the possible energy I can muster. Dancing, singing, playing my guitar, plus setting up and tearing down afterwards, it all takes a lot out of you. Performing is a high, but once everyone is gone and it's just you in your room alone, the fatigue hits you. When I was a few years younger it was the drugs that kept me up half the night and only when they wore off would I crash and sleep my days away til the night came and time to get high and rock it all up again.
Now I have to rely on adrenaline. I am clean finally. We are working on becoming a big name in rock, my band and I. There are six of us: Four guys and two girls. We have been traveling around now doing small shows and small concerts building up a fan base around the states trying to promote our first album for a couple of months. It is a long lonely road, the one to fame. I know I don't have to spend my nights alone, there are plenty of young girls who make it expressly obvious that they would love to spend a night with me or any of the guys in the band. Sometimes I indulge, but lately I have just been too down and too burned out on that to do so. They are all the same thing, a one night stand and none of them very good or very experienced.
I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling now. This old house, a Victorian bed and breakfast we took rooms in for tonight simply for lack of other accomodations, groans and creaks in the night. I listen to the sounds of the old house. We performed for a college in a medium sized midwest town nearby this evening and it went rather well. The girls screamed loud enough, albums sold well enough. My partner and I performed our duo perfectly combining the right mix of music and sexual tension and chemistry on stage needed to get the crowd pumped up. She had a way about her on stage. Sexual energy come to life. She strutted it up and down the stage, rubbing against various members of the band, mainly focusing on me and the bass player. Touching my shoulder, bump and grind, touch the cheek, a caress, a look, a promise in the eyes, the voice, yet all an act, all for show only. Not to say it wasn't arousing, my god how many times did I come off stage with a raging hard on? Several times the other guys grumbled about it as well, but they always had plenty of little young fans to take care of the urges, the ache. Yet I had yet left the groupie scene behind for a good while now. Not to say my arousal was any less, in fact it was worse than ever, but what could i do? The tension, the electricity was just a part of the show, it had to stay as just that at a risk of dying out.
Not to say I never wondered what it would be like to take it further, but it was not a possibility. Something not even to be considered, no matter how attractive she is. She has become over the years one of my best friends and like a sister to me, so that right there made it out of the question anyway.
I lay there, tossing and turning, running these thoughts through my head. Remembering the cheers, the firm breasts of the girls bouncing around down in front of the stage, the way they hung on us afterwards, rubbing against us, obviously trying to get a move made on them, a feel, an offer. I was feeling restless, better term, horny. I was regretting not having taken the little redhead who so blatantly offered a blow job up on her offer. The room was hot, despite the winter air outside. I kicked the thick comforter off of me and rolled to the cooler side of the old queen sized four poster bed. Everything in the house was antique design, and when the lady of the house saw she was renting her rooms to a rock band she nearly stroked, but gave us the benefit of the doubt nonetheless, and gratefully too, since there wasn't a room to be had for a good 70 miles from what we could find.
I got up and cracked the window a little. The breeze lightly rustled the sheers on the window and I felt it on my skin, cooling, soothing. I knelt down and took a deep breath of it. I looked out over the moonlit yard, the big elm trees threw shadows like big arms reaching across the grass toward each other. I climbed back in bed and fluffed up the pillows some. One thing I hated about being on the road, different beds every night and different pillows, meant for an achey back and neck. I just ached all over. My muscles hurt, a massage would be a greatly appreciated luxury, I thought. I lay on my stomach and rested my head in my arms crossed over on the pillow. I pulled the blankets about to my waist and lay my head down to watch the window sheers rustle in the breeze. I dozed off.
I could feel her hands. Soft pliable fingers massaging my shoulders, down my back and back up to my shoulder blades, massaging, kneading, working the muscles gently, up and down from the small of my back to my neck. I sighed. I moaned. She was straddling my legs, my ass to reach my back. I felt her take my arms and spread them out to the side and massage down each one, feeling my biceps as if she were admiring them. I realized the window had been closed now, and the blankets pulled off, she was wearing a soft sheer, gauzy feeling type of nightgown, if my skin was telling me right. I didn't open my eyes, just sighed and relaxed. I felt her move down, felt her fingers working my buttocks, my thighs, expertly taking all tension out of my body, easing the muscle aches gently but firmly. I let myself doze again at her manipulations. I felt like I was beginning to float.
"Thank You," I whispered, my eyes still closed. I felt her lips then, kissing the back of my neck, her tongue tasting my skin. I shuddered in pleasure. Her hands were caressing me and now her tongue, her lips were following where her hands once massaged, down my back over my buttocks over my legs, she kissed and kissed. I turned over and before I could even open my eyes, she was on top of me, straddling me, kissing my mouth. I could feel the gauzy night gown against my skin. I sank into the passion of the kiss, letting her take the lead. Kept my eyes closed, afraid to break the magic, let my hands do the seeing for me. I caressed her skin, eased her night gown open and found soft full breasts eager for my mouth. She hardly made a sound. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch, unlike my own fiery hot skin, she seemed to inflame more with her touches. She kissed down my front, down my stomach, down... taking me in her mouth, licking and sucking, kissing and bringing me near to a climax, then backing off again and again, taking me up and up then letting me back down. Then she came back up and kissed her way up to my mouth again.
She never took off the night gown, it fell around her waist softly draping over her and me.
She rode me, took me deep inside her, I felt myself climbing like I was flying, soaring, and then the climax came and I felt blinded, heard my own cries and felt her lips on me, her teeth in my skin as she leant down and bit into my shoulder in her own ecstascy. I felt suddenly relaxed and exhausted. I opened my eyes to see her. Before I drifted off to sleep once more I had a realization. She wasn't who I had thought she was. The girl had long long dark hair, and her eyes shone in the moonlight, but she was very very young, and not my partner in the band. I drifted off as if drugged.
Sunshine in my eyes blinded me awake even through my eyelids. I pulled the pillow over my head, and the memory of the girl, of the night before hit me full force. I sat up and looked around. She was gone now. I had thought I had felt her kissing me again and touching me in the night, but there wasn't even a trace of her now. In the bathroom mirror I checked for marks, I had felt her bite me I remembered. Sure enough there were smallish teeth mark bruising on my shoulder. I shrugged and put on my robe and headed down to search out the group and a cup of hot black coffee. I ran into my partner on the way down.
"Sleep well?" She asked.
I just nodded, not trusting my tongue, my voice.
In the kitchen I asked our hostess about her guests as she got me a hot steamy mug of coffee. "What other guests do you have here this weekend?" "No one else" she said, just you and your band. "Oh and I must say I was pleasantly surprised to find you all to be so well mannered." She smiled as she handed me the mug, "as well as quite charming." She winked at me and I smiled my thanks.
"Something troubling you?" She asked.
I wasn't sure how to ask what I wanted to know. "I just thought I saw a young woman last night, is all, I must have been dreaming."
"Dark hair?" She asked.
The hair on my neck felt like it was raised, and I felt a shiver. "Yes."
"Hrmmm." she murmured.
"Several young men have reportedly seen her here, or about the place, but there is no actual girl, you see the old folklore is that the house has a ghost, but I don't believe in them myself, but they do say she only shows herself to young men she favours."
"What else do you know of her?" I asked now fully curious and also a little frightened.
"Only that she lived here a long long time ago, and that apparently she was betrothed to a young man and her father disapproved of him, and caught him sneaking in her bedroom once and shot him. She was so distraught she was said to have taken her own life shortly thereafter, and many say she has never left this house." She said with a shrug of one who was just reporting a fairy tale.
"What room was hers?" I asked already knowing the answer.
"Would have been yours," she said. She shrugged again and made an excuse to get some work done, laundry et cetera.
Later as we packed our gear and loaded up the vans, I made one more trip up to my room to check to be sure I didn't forget anything. I pulled my guitar pick out of my pocket of my trousers and laid it on the nightstand. "Thank you," I whispered. I went back out to the yard to the vans.
As we drove away I looked up at the window, nothing there but the sheers blowing in the breeze, yet the window had been closed when I left the room. I smiled.
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Dreaming?
