Masturbation and a Show


Sweat runs down the side of your face, tinted blue by the stage lights. Your eyes are intense under the thick, black eyeliner which makes them stand out all the more. As you strike your bass, the heavy sounds pulsing through me to the core while I dance near the front of the crowd, I think about those fingers running across my body instead of the instrument. The thought, “What a sexy Smurf,” crosses my mind and I can’t help but laugh. Then you bite your lip as you dive into the song, and I’m not laughing anymore.

A soft moan catches in my throat as I feel a hot flush run up my chest and neck. The press of bodies, strangers forming the crowd around me, holds me tight and I feel both exposed and invisible at the same time. Thankfully the music is covering any sounds I might make, and my too-short plaid skirt is just the right length to slide my hand under with ease.

And that’s where my hand is, having made its way between my thighs almost without me realizing. My fingertips caress the damp fabric of my black thong, running lightly across it while I jump to the music. I think about canlı bahis finding you backstage, about us sneaking off to a dark corner where I can get on my knees and mess up my carefully applied makeup between your thighs, your hands wrapped tightly in my pink hair while I lick and kiss and suck, feeling myself get wetter and wetter as I build you up to orgasm.

The song ends and a slow, grinding number begins. My hips sway back and forth and my fingers push aside the flimsy fabric. I barely have to apply any pressure to part my slick pussy lips, and my eyes squeeze shut as I flick gently across my clit. Imagining your breathing getting harder as you get closer to orgasm, locking eyes with you as I continue to use my mouth until you’re shaking and screaming my name, I can’t help but drive my fingers deep into my pussy. Moaning as the heel of my hand grinds against my clit, my fingers fucking deep and hard, I feel my knees start to go weak. Do my fellow concertgoers know what I’m doing? Do they know I would fall to the floor right now if it weren’t for their support, the mass of the mob holding bahis siteleri me up? I don’t know about that, but I do know I want to see you when I cum.

Pulling myself away from the fantasy, I look back to the stage. You are now directly in front of me, and I catch my breath as I realize you’re looking dead at me. There’s no way you can see what I’m doing, is there? With so many people packed in tight, you can’t see down to the hand buried in my cunt and the wetness spreading across the top of my thighs, can you? We make eye contact and I’m sure you know everything; everything I’ve been fantasizing about, everything I’ve been doing to myself, everything I would do to you on stage right now in front of everyone if you said you wanted me to…

And then you’re off, striding back across the stage, eyes reaching out to every other adoring fan. I whimper and let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Watching you saunter back and forth, my tongue flicks out across my lips and I know I’m moments from orgasm. Glancing around me it seems like the rest of the crowd is caught up in the bahis şirketleri show on stage instead of the one I’m putting on. My cheeks are burning as I think about the embarrassment of being caught. It turns me on even more. I want you to see what I’m doing, to pull me up in front of everyone and make me finger myself to climax before this whole venue while you stand over me and continue to play. I want you to bend me over the speaker and press me hard against it so I can feel the vibrations roll through my body. I want you to make me beg for release. I want you to…

Every inch of me shudders as the orgasm starts to wash across me. I fight to keep my eyes open, watching you, thinking about how much I want you to know what I’m doing right now. I would try to stay quiet but everyone else is shouting and singing along and I’m too far gone to care anyway.

Screaming out I cum hard, feeling the pulse of the music around my body and the pulse of the orgasm around my fingers. I ride the feeling, my senses suddenly heightened as the music is almost a little too loud, the people near me almost a little too close, the feeling of my climax almost a little too much. I want to laugh and nap and lick my fingers clean then fuck you until dawn. Instead I smile, wipe my messy hand across my skirt, and go back to dancing.

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