More Stories to Make You Blush

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More Stories to Make You Blush Page 3

by Marie Gray


  To make a long story short, the evening ended much better than it had begun. Around 2 a.m. Julian was madly in love with a girl he knew almost nothing about. All he knew was that she had no dark secrets that could spoil everything—no husband or other problem lurking on the horizon. She was the woman of his dreams, and they ended up living together for over four years.

  He pushed these memories away before they became painful, and went back to his admirer’s letter. Despite the memory of Janelle and the pain she had caused him, he could not help but feel a little flicker of flattered curiosity.

  A few days later he received another message.

  Dearest Julian,

  Last night, you were even more enticing than usual. This time it was your hair that set me on fire, not your hands. The lighting made your curls shine. I imagined them brushing over my face.

  I never see you with a woman, Julian. Did someone hurt you? Or maybe one woman isn’t enough? Last night, I imagined you naked on that stage. I saw you alone beneath the multicolored lights, your body bathing in an orgy of colors, and me next to you, secretly admiring you.

  Soon I’ll be brave enough to introduce myself. I just need to know that your body and heart don’t belong to anyone. If I could be sure of that, I would give my whole self to you.

  See you soon, Julian.

  X

  Well! She wanted to be sure his heart did not belong to anyone! In spite of himself, this sentence took him back to his four years of almost complete happiness with Janelle. Happiness that was so stupidly interrupted.

  At the time he had managed to provide for their needs, but she was painting and selling more and more of her work. She started reproaching him for not buying her treats the way she did for him. When he tried to reason with her about an overpriced vacation, pointing out that it would be wiser and just as much fun to stay close to home, she accused him of being selfish. She said he did not love her enough to “make a few little sacrifices.” In other words, he did not earn enough money and did not prove his love to her the way he should, while she just grew richer and more generous. Everyone knows that women are perfect; it goes without saying! But her attitude became unbearable. Then came the day she accused him of playing with his “sleazy little band” just so pretty young women would come on to him.

  That was the last straw. For the first time in four years of living together she had stooped a little too low, dealt the ultimate insult, refusing to understand Julian’s deepest motivations. He had never given her reason to believe he could be unfaithful. Never! He never even looked at another woman, knowing that his other half was a little possessive, and touchy. What’s more, he was still madly in love with her. Being a pacifist, he preferred to avoid unpleasant discussions. And anyway, she was always so sure she was right.

  Two months ago she had given him an ultimatum: either he would get himself together to have a more “normal” life, that is, with a bigger income and guaranteed presence after 10 p.m., or he would find another apartment and someone else to share it with.

  For once, he stuck to his guns, no longer feeling the need to justify his lifestyle. He left without a scene, without protests. But the drawback was that he missed her terribly. At first he had to restrain himself from trying to patch things up. Then, when he got no sign from her, he became resigned. Maybe it really was time to turn over a new leaf.

  For two weeks there was no news from his mysterious correspondent. But he was not performing as much, either. Julian started to think that his mysterious fan had found someone else, when, coming out of the dressing room of a seedy bar one night, he saw a letter with his name on it stuck to the door.

  Hello,

  Forgive me for being out of touch, but I missed your last show. That’ll never happen again! Maybe you think I’m a little strange, or that I hide behind these letters because what I have to show isn’t too appealing. Believe me, it’s not that. And you’re going to find out for yourself soon.

  I have to go now, but this is not goodbye. See you very, very soon.

  X

  * * *

  It was a big night for Julian’s band and their future. Six groups were appearing at the Spectrum, and there were supposed to be some big industry names scouting the event, looking for the next hit band. All the members of the group were very nervous, but it was a positive nervousness. They had spent part of the day setting up, each band making sure they would have the best possible sound when their turn came. They were trying as best they could to relax backstage, when Andy, who worked the front door, came and knocked. He handed Julian a letter and gave him a little wink. Julian leapt from his chair, and when Andy confirmed that yes, the mysterious stranger had really been there, in person, he pressed him for a description.

  “Oh, I don’t know, you know me. A girl. Sort of tall.

  She was wearing one of those caps, so I couldn’t see what color her hair was. And sunglasses. But she seemed nice, for a girl.”

  Andy was not much help. He was gay and proud of it, and said that for him all girls looked alike. Exasperated, Julian ripped open the envelope.

  Hi Julian,

  I’ll be with you tonight. I’ll be looking at you and thinking of you hard. I know you’re going to be a big success; it would be too bad if we couldn’t share it. And who knows, maybe tonight will be the night? I’m going to think it over during the show. But I promise, you won’t be disappointed when we finally meet. So ’til later, maybe. In any case, see you soon.

  X

  Julian reread the message several times. He hoped she would make an appearance, especially if the show went well. If it didn’t, he would be in no mood to make conversation with a stranger—a stranger who was probably not his type at all.

  Finally, he put the envelope in his guitar case with the others. “We’ll see,” he told himself.

  Julian tried to concentrate on the upcoming show. The other band members were running through the various tunes to avoid any possible glitches. But Julian’s mind was elsewhere. Maybe this woman would make him forget Janelle once and for all— Janelle, whom he had loved in spite of her mood swings and low sex drive. At first it upset him how rarely she gave herself to him. But he had to admit, when it did happen, that it was unforgettable— though she had no particular imagination and did not go in for sexual games. Still, she made love with such unusual abandon that it was endearing and quite moving.

  He came back to the present, trying once again to bury these painful memories. Maybe, after all, he would be pleasantly surprised by his new admirer.

  He was still asking himself these questions when their turn came to go onstage. The band members patted each other on the back for encouragement (it was a sort of ritual they did on big nights) then took their places on stage. The atmosphere was electric, the place was packed. The crowd greeted them with enthusiasm, and each musician threw himself into bringing his instrument to life.

  Right from the first bars Julian felt invincible. “This is why I play music!” he told himself after a piece they had played particularly well. The audience was going wild. It was turning out so well, Julian felt an almost sexual pleasure. If Janelle had ever had this kind of feeling, this kind of exaltation while doing her art, she never would have acted the way she did! Adrenaline kept him on a high wire, honing his nerves to a keen sensitivity that came through clearly in the music. During his guitar solo in the final piece he felt like a god, and was ready to swear he had never given such a good performance. He suddenly realized he was lucky to have his guitar in front of him; the erection that had been building since the beginning of the show was at its peak.

  The five musicians left the stage amidst thundering applause. “We’ve got them!” they congratulated each other. Nobody dared to say anything out loud, but their smiles spoke volumes. When the crowd called for an encore with insistent applause and chanting, they flew back on stage. The tune they played seemed as successful as the ones before, and Julian was even more excited. His member manifested its satisfactio
n by getting even bigger and harder.

  When they left the stage for the last time the musicians were all charged up. With only fifteen minutes to clear their equipment off the stage, they hurried into the dressing room for a moment’s celebration.

  Julian was the last to leave the stage, so no one realized he was no longer with them. A woman he could not see had grabbed his arm and dragged him into a dark closet. A door closed behind him. He tried to protest, but she planted her wet mouth on his. And what a mouth! An avidly probing tongue invaded his lips. Avid, but at the same time shy, like a barely contained passion. The kiss seemed to last several minutes.

  “Julian, please don’t go.”

  The voice was soft, almost a whisper. Without giving him the chance to reply she started kissing him again. Julian’s erection, which had lost none of its vigour, suddenly went up another notch. Was this woman his mysterious correspondent? What did she look like? Her kisses were very pleasant, but he did not relish the idea of discovering she weighed 300 pounds and had the face of a witch! He put out his hands hesitantly to touch her body. “Hmm! not bad! My hands fit nicely around her waist, that’s a good sign, at least for that part of her.” He let his hands slide down her hips, and found only pleasing curves.

  The strange woman, encouraged by his gesture, grew braver. With a well-placed thigh she checked how Julian’s crotch was reacting, and was not disappointed. Her little hands grabbed his buttocks, moved down the back of his thighs, then around front where they started to undo his pants.

  “Hey! I’ve got to go back.”

  “In a minute,” she whispered.

  She moved down his body gradually, with furtive kisses on his damp neck and chest. Julian took advantage of the moment to slide his hands onto the large, firm breasts, which seemed very cramped in their tight shirt. “Looking better and better!” he said to himself. But he really had to get backstage. How to escape this situation, which was far from unpleasant? “What man would be stupid enough not to jump at the opportunity?” he thought with conviction, to ease his conscience.

  As for the girl, apparently she had already “thought it over” and was going for a very specific goal. Having finally succeeded in pulling down his very tight jeans, she seemed to want to tame his cock, now free and unencumbered, with mischievous little flicks of the tongue. Julian moaned. The guys could get along okay without him, he thought, and his conviction was confirmed beyond the point of no return when the greedy little mouth swallowed him whole, licking him with a very wet tongue, letting warm soft saliva trail down the full length of his member.

  In one last gasp of lucidity, Julian groped for the hair of his benefactress, to smell it, get an image of her, even just a sketch. But she was wearing a big cap—a kind of beret. Maybe her hair was very short, or very long and tucked up under the cap? Whatever the case she knew what she was doing! And she really seemed to want to torment him. After a few minutes his cock was streaming, and the girl’s hand took over. With her light fingers she delicately massaged his testicles, separating them tenderly, before squeezing them against each other in a burning embrace.

  “I’m sorry, Julian, but I can’t wait any more,” she murmured.

  “That’s … that’s okay, really. But why are you hiding like this?”

  “I’ll explain one day.”

  She concluded by taking him between her lips again, right into her throat. He felt himself buried deeply in her, too deeply, even. He was astounded by such ardor, but was not about to complain. Especially since it was the kind of thing Janelle always refused to do for him. He thought of how strange it all was: there he was, locked in a broom closet with a perfect stranger sucking him like he had never been sucked in his life! And it was happening to him! Now! As if to convince him of it, the girl grew more insistent. She sucked faster and harder. Her hand went back to stroking his testicles, which felt as if they were about to burst. In a frenzied series of gliding and sucking movements, she managed with little difficulty to make the man she was pursuing explode in a powerful stream, flooding her benevolent mouth.

  Julian tried to catch his breath. He felt the stranger pull away. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her! But they would have time, later. Even before his breathing went back to normal he saw light coming in through the opening door, felt her slip by him, and realized too late that she was gone.

  The episode could not have lasted more than a few minutes—ten at most—but Julian could have sworn it was hours. Hours of intense pleasure. He remained in the dark locker for a moment to recover, asking himself if it had all been a dream. But his twisted pants and quivering cock were proof that it had been quite real. He did not know how to react. He was not about to complain that he had been used! No, his pleasure had been too great. But he knew nothing about what his benefactress looked like. “At least her body wasn’t bad!” he concluded with a smile. And most importantly, he had come with surprising intensity.

  Julian quickly pulled up his pants, ran an uncertain hand through his tousled hair, and headed backstage.

  Seeing him arrive the other musicians jeered:

  “Where were you? The fans wouldn’t leave you alone?”

  “You have no idea how right you are!” replied the guitarist with an enigmatic smile.

  They left the little room, and Julian sat down, opening himself a beer. He wondered when the stranger would make another appearance; he was sure she would show up any minute. But by the time he had finished his brew, she still had not arrived. He got to his feet with some difficulty, wondering whether it was the show that had drained him, or what came after.

  He joined the others on stage, quickly gathering his equipment to make room for the next group. He took another beer before going to clear his things from the dressing room. There he met Alan, who asked him, surprised, if he were leaving right away. Julian replied that he would put his equipment in the car and rejoin them right after. But Alan, who had noticed his strange smile earlier, could not help but ask:

  “Was it our performance or something else making you smile like that?”

  “You’ll never believe what just happened to me. I was leaving the stage, and …”

  “C’mon, out! Gotta make room for the next guys!”

  One of the organizers had just come in, interrupting Julian as he was about to divulge his secret. They all ended up at the bar and spent the rest of the evening drinking, congratulating each other, drinking some more, listening to the other bands, and drinking still more. Julian searched the room, hoping at any moment to see a pretty girl in a cap. But the stranger was keeping a low profile. At the end of the evening the beer had extinguished what remained of the bonfire in Julian’s crotch, and he stopped looking for the girl. Quite drunk, he told Alan about his happy misadventure, though he was no longer sure it was not just a dream. He told his comrade the story in as much detail as possible, and listened to him exclaim in jealousy.

  Leaving the bar later that night, he wondered if he should not have just kept quiet.

  * * *

  After that evening things started happening very quickly. Julian’s group was offered an attractive recording contract. There were fewer shows, as the musicians preferred to prepare for the record. Julian thought less and less about the strange woman and her very pleasant favors. He hardly believed it had really happened, except at night, when he longed for her between the sheets. She had shown no sign for three weeks. Had she been disappointed? Had he done something wrong? But it had been she who did everything! Maybe that was it, she was waiting for some sort of reply from him. But she had left! So too bad for her!

  Julian had no idea that at that very moment she was talking on the phone with Alan. She wanted his help for her next surprise visit to Julian.

  “Hi, Alan. It’s Janelle.”

  “Janelle? Uh, hi … How are you?”

  “Fine, fine. Listen, as you might have guessed, I’m not calling to talk to you about my health. Did Julian ever tell you about something unusual tha
t happened the night of the Spectrum?”

  Alan was silent for a few moments, remembering the outrageous tale Julian had told him the night of their last show. He had only half believed him.

  “Then it was true? It was you?”

  “I don’t know what he told you, but yes, it was me. Maybe it seems like a strange method, but I have my reasons. I miss him so much.”

  “Listen, Janelle, I don’t want to be involved.”

  “I know. The reason I’m phoning is that I’m going to Quebec City for your next show. I’d like to spring another surprise on him, more elaborate this time, if you know what I mean. After that, he’ll know it’s me.”

  “Janelle, he’s just starting to get over it. You’re not being fair.”

  “That just concerns him and me, Alan. What I want you to do is very simple. Let me in backstage after the show, and make sure everyone gets out. I know Julian always waits a few minutes before going back out, to ‘decompress.’”

  Alan thought for a few moments.

  “It might work. But you’ve got to be there the moment we finish. If he comes back right away, it won’t be my fault.”

  “I’m just asking you to try.”

  * * *

  Just when he had stopped waiting Julian received another letter from her. He could not help smiling idiotically, remembering down to the last detail the treatment she had inflicted on him.

  Dear Julian,

  It’s been very hard to get in touch with you lately. I almost thought I’d never see you again! That would’ve been too bad, I think you’ll agree. I hope I measured up to your expectations the other day; I did my best to make a good impression!

  I won’t tell you why I didn’t stay the last time, it’s not important. But I’ll be in Quebec City for your next show. Maybe we’ll have a meeting as nice as the last one—or nicer?

 

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