room with a view #1

I instigated this as much as he did, he was hot, I liked him, admittedly horny for him in my own way, and the fact he was in the band I had just been watching that evening was just like cherry on the already tasty cake.

The crazy thing was I hadn’t even spoken to him, just watched them do their gig, him on drums, lithe, strong and clearly with enormous amounts of stamina. Sounds very primal I know, our instincts have a lot to answer for in what they make us do, and like!

After their gig I found myself with other friends in the company of the band who were far from the aloof kind of musicians and in fact very gregarious and friendly. I’m not sure if I had unconsciously wormed my way closer to the drummer or not but there I was standing next to him and then there we were in conversation about music. What else! He looked just as fit close up and had a small goatee and thick shoulder-length black hair. He also had the tattoo of a thorny rose on the right side of his neck. How could I not be impressed?

Well, he could have lacked completely in any personality, he didn’t, he could have had nothing interesting to say; he had plenty of thoughtful stuff coming from his very mobile lips. I would guess he was perhaps ten years older than me, which of course was no problem at all.

After leaving the pub we, my friends and me, with the band back to a house, whose it was I never quite found out. There weren’t that many of us, the four members of the band, some roadies I guessed, some other hangers-on, and us four. I don’t think I was being a groupie having only just come across the band the first time that night, unless going back to a house with them is groupie-like behaviour. Maybe I was a little then.

Music, drink, some were smoking strange-smelling herbs which I didn’t indulge. It lasted hours and eventually people either drifted off, fell asleep, or just went into their our trances either having drunk or smoked too much to bother moving at least until the morning. I was watching the drummer chatting with another girl who’d followed on from the pub and thought I had blown it by not being maybe more confident or obvious earlier, but it’s just not my way. Well, I thought, if he preferred someone else then that’s ok, I’m completely fine just hanging out with whoever was still conscious or sentient.

Clearly it had all got a bit much for me and found I’d been dozing on a sofa as someone landed next to me shaking me out of my daze. It was the drummer and he was as lively as ever as though he has no off-switch. Could have been exhausting but I found myself once more drawn into his energy; and I had the distinct feeling deep down he had a lot of it. He looked flushed, though the room was warm and there was plenty of alcohol flowing so I put it down to that.

Uninvited, he snuggled up next to me like we’d known each other for years, or that’s what I’d call it, not that I complained as all the feelings I had earlier had only been dormant it seemed and begun rising up all over again. He smelled, well, good actually, despite an undoubted combination of sweat and smoke lingering in the room, he smelled, good. Good enough to eat, I riskily thought, then invisibly slapped myself for having such indulgent wonderings. I reached around and boldly touched his neck tattoo asking him the story behind it, to which he answered rather enigmatically in a voice only I could hear that to tell me would involve extracting a price from me. Stupidly and falling right into the trap I asked what that would be.

A kiss, on the lips, he promised no tongues. I tried my best to look shocked and demure but not sure I was convincing and after some equally unconvincing objections I agreed. How could I not, after all I’d been feeling all night. We kissed and his tiny sort of goatee tickled my chin. It was good, more than good and as promised, no tongues. He seemed to like it as he went in for a second after we’d hardly broke that one, but this time I felt his tongue mischievously finding its way past my lips. I didn’t stop him despite it making me open my eyes to see if he was doing the same, peeking. He wasn’t. In it went and felt well-versed in the art, not sloppy, clumsy or random. I touched it with mine and they moved first entwining my mouth then he enticed me into his to do the same. Such small things in such a small space creating such a huge well of emotion and admittedly arousal throughout the entire body.

We didn’t break this one so soon and afterwards I remembered I should have breathed and inhaled a huge quantity of air to compensate, then releasing it with an inaudible ‘wow!’ We seemed both to be quite good at this, compatibly-so, so, what else was there to do but to repeat, repeat, and we did, with him and me getting closer until he flipped my legs over his and wrapping his long drummers arms around me in the process. I was now in seventh heaven, the one where the kisses are pure ecstasy: who would have thought a drummer could kiss so tenderly and expertly being their usual job of just thumping and bashing things as hard as possible.

I was getting quite horny throughout, with all my earlier feelings further feeding the present ones. His hand rested on my hips and moved silently up and down the outside of my thighs along my ripped jeans. Sometimes they side up my waist and under my arms brushing the side of my breast but then down again paying lots of attention to my hips and knees.

He leaned me down onto the sofa and for a few minutes I forgot where I was as his hands continued their expeditions over the parts of me easy to reach in this position and our lips also continued their explorations with tongues. The music drifted in and out of my consciousness when his hand also drifted down from my knee again but this time on the inside of my thigh enticing my legs to part by inches, and it didn’t stop but kept moving there up and down while he had me locked in one of our fabulous kisses until his hand stopped at the very top of my thigh to rest but not immobile, continuing with rubbing over my warm crotch. I reached for his hand intent of nicely moving it back to my knee but found the motion quite addictive and instead found my fingers wrapping in his huge hand and moving with him as he rubbing gently between my legs pressing the denim close against me as if it wasn’t already being skinny jeans anyway.

It was making me moist and I knew it, felt it, he knew it and was obviously feeling it, and I found it hard to resist here and now and my fingers now firmly gripped by his were being used to his own ends; my arousal.

Underneath my legs which were slung across his lap I felt his bulge, or imagined I did, enough to entice me to investigate as I was already imagining it, much to my embarrassment. I had to know so snuck my free hand between his legs and ran my fingers over this bulge radiating heat and definitely a size and straining as it was to the left like it had a mind of its own. It probably had! I couldn’t help myself but to rub it a little before retreating feeling clumsy as I felt his kiss broaden into a smile.

He rubbed my inner thighs more freely since he realised I wasn’t making any effort to stop him and only then did I remember we were still downstairs in the lounge of this house and anyone could have walked in and seen us, though as far as I know hadn’t: as far as I know. His hand was becoming more animated and making my hips respond excitedly in more ways than one, moving against his legs and hand, and my own hand entwined in his. I felt myself shuddering and breathing desperately and just knew if I didn’t stop it I was liable to orgasm.

(continued in “room with a view #2” ……………)

© Emmaleela