by Kade, Teagan
I open my eyes briefly. Surely someone in the crowd has noticed, but if they do, they don’t seem to mind, facing forwards and singing along to the music.
I try to push my arms out, which only seems to irritate the guy who’s back they’re digging into. He turns briefly before facing the stage and bobbing back along.
The music grows louder. It resonates in my core, and as Storm continues to kiss my neck, my cheek, a pressure builds.
I’m aware of something else. It’s his hardness. I can make out its length through his jeans pressed into the baby flesh of my inner thigh inches away from my pussy. The level surface of his chest is hard against my back. It’s solid, masculine, toned, just as I remember it.
I try to say something, but it’s met with a soft “ssshh” in my ear.
His hand leaves my hair and falls into the no man’s land between us, heavy and purposeful.
My breathing is labored, both from the physical energy to stay afoot and the heated situation developing behind me. The air is laden with dry ice from the stage, the stench of fresh weed backed by an artificial burning.
On the underside of my arms my nipples harden into stony pebbles. The anticipation is too much. I hold my breath waiting for his next move, wondering where his hands might venture next.
They circle my waist, one per side, clamping my sides just above my pelvic bone at the rim of my skirt. Painfully slow he works them upwards under the silk of my shirt. They run over my belly, over the plane of my stomach, reaching higher and higher until he is cupping my breasts, drawing his thumb and index fingers together under the mounds. He moves around them, a potter, coaxing them, weighing them in his hands gently.
When his fingertips find my nipples I release a slight moan. An electric tickle zaps through my body and I push my chest out. He pinches a nipple between his fingers, twisting it slightly, then harder until I yelp. He tugs it sideways, downwards, working each together in syncopation and then in different directions. I can’t believe this is happening, right here. Someone could catch us. We could be kicked out, but this added sense of danger only adds to the thrill.
His hands grow more adventurous, cupping me with greater pressure, his cock still a hard indentation against my leg. He’s moving his hips, forcing it upwards at the hem of my skirt, pressing it in and out.
Behind my eyelids I see flashes of light, bursts of color and it’s like being in some surrealist dream, the vampires of Anne Rice descending on your body by night.
His right hand still moving around my breast, his head buried in my hair, his left hand swings down my body. It slides down the front of my skirt, into my panties and over my mons.
Some noise escapes me, some strange phantasm of sound. I try to restrain myself, but it’s too late. His fingers are shoveling into me. My body is at his mercy. I know each time his fingers slide into that crevice, parting my tender lips, they’ll come away wetter and wetter.
He continues to work with both hands. His cock is an impatient door-knocker, embedded now between my ass cheeks, the steely underside of it splitting them in two, rocking back and forth like a pendulum. What little there was of my skirt to begin with is now bunched up between us.
I spread my legs a touch wider and his index finger dips deep into my pussy. His palm is against my clit and his fingers are now inside me, working at the muscles of my most intimate space. I pull them tight. He groans in my ear.
If he keeps this up I’m going to come right here amongst these people, surrounded by flesh. Yet all these thoughts do is flood his hand further. Moisture runs down my his wrist.
He pivots his hand, I lean back into his dick and he pushes two digits sharply into my core. The feeling of being filled like that, my cunt expanding to accommodate him, is welcome. They slide easily up and down inside me, gliding over my rippled walls, reaching up into some hidden inner sanctuary, new throes of desire eating away at what energy and resistance I may have had left.
I smell myself, my sex open, perspiring with want, its velvet-like liquidity patchy against my thighs and seeping into the area below my slit.
His fingers pull out and at once I feel the openness closing over in the retreat. His free hand has covered my breast fully, the nipple between the webbing of his fingers, caught in the trap.
The band’s singing through a bridge, having changed songs somewhere as I was caught in sweet agony. The crowd sings along, the tempo moving quicker.
“How’s that?” he whispers against my ear, stroking my clit leisurely, my pink aperture a hot and hungry mouth below mourning the loss.
“I want you inside me,” I whisper back. I know how foolish it sounds, how impossible, but it’s right there, his cock, pressed into my panties, its bulbous head comfortably sitting in the dimple at the top of my backside.
Flashes, light, pyro. My eyelids are alight and I know the feeling, the strange white noise that takes over everything else as I near orgasm, by body pulling tightly together. He keeps a steady rhythm, running over the dome, pressing into the fat lips of my pussy, finding my clit and lightly manipulating the tiny package of skin until I know it is going to happen. I’m going to come right here, against his hand, his cock pressed into my back and encircled by the general public.
The thought is so outrageous, so hot and out of my radar that I do. I thrust my hips against his finger and arch my entire back as rolls and washes of pure energy move through me, that system of pleasure between my legs, that series of skin and flesh, contracting, a bird’s mouth, opening and closing.
I literally cannot breathe. I’ve never come this hard before. There’s a faintness in my head and when I open my eyes it takes some time for my vision to come to, color seeping in slowly from the sides.
His left hand holds the front of my thigh while his right clamps over my mouth. His fingers gathered against my lips, I taste myself, the by-product of my orgasm. His fingers are soaked, the scent of sex unavoidable, my nostrils expanding with it, a delirious need to be filled welling up inside me.
It takes a lot of effort to release one of my arms. I stretch, twist and reach around behind my back, forcing it between us, curling my wrist, finding the top of his jeans and reaching inside. As usual, he’s not wearing underpants and this fact starts a new wetness spreading out between my legs.
I roll my fingers around the head of his cock in reverse. They slip in his pre-cum. I allow it to lubricate my fingers, coiling them around his tip, polishing it. I jerk him off, run my hand down his shaft. When I reach his balls, pulling them up towards his body, his hand knots up in my hair, making a fist and pulling it back, my eyes pointing at the roof. No one intervenes. They’re in their own worlds, oblivious to the fuck-fest happening right in front of them.
I twist my hand out and put it down my panties, replacing his own against my slit, letting the creases of my pussy part for my fingers as they glide down there, my next orgasm already building.
His hand is at his pants and I know he’s pulling his zipper down. It’s taking some effort, but he pulls his cock free and it springs there, bouncing between my ass cheeks, his cum already seeping through the wet mesh of my panties. He hooks a finger into the corner of them, the narrow bridge of fabric wedged into my backside, and pulls it violently over my butt cheek until the fabric tears and they fall from me. He lifts my skirt up until my entire waist is exposed, uncovered but invisible to those around us given we’re pressed so tight.
The lead singer’s clapping his hands in the air, urging the crowd to join along, and they do so as one voice. Storm’s hands are not in the air. They’re underneath my ass cheeks, pulling them apart, allowing his hardness to fall between them, the head of his dick sliding right against the hot opening of my pussy.
All I have to do is push my hips back and he’ll be inside me.
Yet he waits. He see-saws his dick back and forth, letting my moisture accumulate atop it. The feeling of my bare skin exposed to the air is outrageous. I cannot believe this is happening. I’m about to be f
ucked in the middle of a concert, and I want it so bad, his dick, to be fucked, really fucked and come again, harder than before, lifeless, impaled upon him.
I lift myself up at the same time he brings his hands higher, spreading my ass apart fully. My pussy opens up, he presses forward and his cock glides up inside me in one motion right to the back of my passage. The slick sound this action makes can be heard even over the din of the concert.
His breath releases at my ear, my hand continues to work my clit and he begins moving. With each thrust I am forced up into the guy in front of me. This time he does not turn, even as Storm’s cock fills me from behind, sliding in and out, stretching me out to the fullest. Every nerve end is strained against him, tingling and balling into pure elation.
The drummer kicks into a standard off-time beat and Storm matches it, pulling at my cheeks violently, pressing forward until I feel the hair of his pubes press against my own, mingling with sweat, juice and cum at the intersection.
It is so extreme, so far out of anything I’ve done before, that I purr at the sensation. You’ve clearly done this before, you bold bastard.
Yes.
Yes.
I pull my PC muscles together and he moans, his pace increasing, out-matching that of the drummer. In this off-beat fashion, in the intensity of the moment, my next orgasm seems imminent, rolling over the embers of the last. My heart seems out of control, my breathing frenzied.
I’m going to die, I think. I’m going to collapse here with him inside me and no one will ever know.
God don’t stop.
Don’t you dare fucking stop.
He holds me around the waist and drives forward, thrusting as far as he can go, my cheeks and thighs pressing around his length cocooning him within me.
I’m falling, headed for that orgasm when his cock slips out of me, flicking up between us. The void is so empty, the shock so great that the feeling ebbs away.
No, not now. Christ.
“You never wanted me anyway,” the band sings in unison.
I’m about to turn and dig my nails into him when I feel his hand cup the space between my legs, his fingers digging for my moisture. Suitably covered, he drags his hand up between the cleft of my bum, coating the puckered orifice there.
You’ve got to be fuckin–
My eyes open wide when I feel the head of him there, pressing at the ring of my anus, half of its mushroom tip already inside.
I’ve never been fucked in the ass before, never even had a finger there – nothing.
“You never cared for me the way they did,” the singer cries out.
Storm grabs my legs tight, reaches up to my waist and brings me back onto his cock. He pushes forward at the same time and I feel the resistance there, my muscles balled up and tight. I relax and he pushes in, stretching and burning with a sense of such taboo, such shame, that my pussy drips anew just below.
He grunts when the base of his cock tickles the dimpled, sweaty mound of my ass cheeks. He begins to slide out, then in, in and out, in and out and it’s such an unusual, erotic feeling that another orgasm rises.
The band is winding up, drawing to that cliché crescendo I know so well.
The crowd’s clapping along. I steady for balance as the excitement floods over those around us. They scream, cry out and I join them, wailing with all my lungs into the air as this Storm fills my ass for the very first time.
I don’t know whether it’s the fact it’s so taboo, or simply the anticipation, but it feels amazing.
As soon as his fingers touch my clit I come with such speed I fall into some kind of fit, my sphincter spasming so hard he has to push against me to stay inside.
As stars fill my eyes he thrusts one final time, further than ever before. I feel the heat there, his cum pumping into my ass.
Another crash of the cymbal and the band is met with rapturous applause.
“Thankyou! We’re the Pig Phuckers. Goodnight!”
I turn, my skirt falling back into place and we kiss.
Storm envelops me, pulling me tight against his hard body as the cheers continue and the concert marches on.
His cock jerks between us.
I’m breathless. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
He smiles. “Believe it.”
“How did you even know I’d be here?”
He plays coy.
“That bitch.”
“Hey, that’s no way to talk about your best friend.”
“How did she even get your number?”
“She’s friends with the drummer in our band.”
“Oh.”
“And how to do you know the Pig Phuckers?”
“Facebook, an hour ago.”
“You’ve got a Facebook page?”
He tries to stuff his cock back into his pants. “Sure. I’m not a complete hermit, you know. We do have the internet out here.”
Social media, hey. Another day, another surprise.
He looks worried. “You’re not glad I came?”
I run my hand down his chest, still a little fuzzy as to how he managed to materialize right here before me.
“I’m sorry about before,” I start. “I overreacted. You were right. I should trust you.”
He smiles. “Yeah, you should.”
I push him away. “Bastard.”
He pulls me back, kissing me deeply. “I’ve been called worse.”
Jemma remains absent, sending me a text later to confirm she’ll be leaving with her friends.
How convenient.
Storm offers to accompany me home.
“What about your bike?” I protest.
“Caught the bus here.”
“The bus? But how were you planning to get home?”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Oh, really? You were that confident.”
“Yes.”
“Fine, come on then.”
But we never make it. Before we know it I’ve missed the turn off to Rosie, the hand on my leg guiding me towards dangerous waters.
I pull into Storm’s driveway and we spill out of the car giggling and struggling not to strip each other down right there in the dirt and mud.
*
I wake tangled in sheets and Storm, hair matted on my face as morning sun slants through the windows.
Back again.
The night comes back to me, our bodies locked together.
I look over his prone body. He might be a hard man of the road, I muse, but he sleeps like a baby.
I stroke his cheek, the hard lines that run down to his neck and shoulders. He stirs but doesn’t wake.
I stand, wrapping the sheets around myself and look around his room.
It’s sparse, more or less empty but for a shelf of trinkets. There are a couple of toy cars and bikes, concert tickets, an old gramophone.
There’s a picture frame, two boys together, but when I look closer I step back in shock.
No.
Hands come around my hips and I jump again, screaming.
“What is it?” he asks.
I point with a shaking figure at the photo. “Who’s that, in that picture?”
His hands grip me tighter. “My twin brother, Tim.”
Chapter Twelve
I start to gather my clothes, tears forming in my eyes and my head a cloudy mix of conflicting emotions. All this time. If I had of known…
“Come on, Alice,” he pleads. “Tell me what’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” I stammer, hunting for my panties on the floor.
There are sounds outside, cars.
Storm pulls the curtain aside and looks through the window. “Shit.”
I scream again as the front door bursts open and shouts of “Police! Search warrant!” ring through the house.
I pull the sheet against myself again as police officers storm into the room with guns raised.
I almost drop the sheet in fright, Storm cold as ice behind me, slowly raising his hands as two officers
move to handcuff him. He’s still naked, cock swinging between his legs.
“Dan?”
My cheeks burn as Dan enters from the back. “For god’s sake,” he says, “let him put some pants on.”
“Why, jealous?” Storm taunts.
“Take this scumbag away.”
One of the officers grabs jeans from a drawer and together with his friend they lead Storm out. He doesn’t make a fuss. He just goes calmly. It’s like he expected this all along.
Dan bends over and with the tip of his gun picks up my panties from the floor. He dangles them between us as more officers swarm in and start ripping the place up.
“How dare you!” I start, embarrassment turning to fury.
“Hey,” says Dan, letting the panties fall to the carpet, “I’m just doing my job. We had a tip your man here’s hiding a stash. It’s my job to follow that up.”
“You came looking for me, didn’t you?”
“Your parents rang, concerned. I said I’d look into it.”
“God.” I reach for a shirt, my jeans. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Dan steps closer. “How do you know? You’ve been here all of a few days and you think you know what these Millertown kind are like? Let me tell you, you don’t know nothing.”
“Sherriff.” An officer’s holding a white baggie by the door.
Dan grins. “Bingo. Okay, boys. Wrap it up.”
The officers start to leave and Dan gives me one final look. “He’s no good for you, Alice. You deserve better. Remember that.”
I watch through the window as they load Storm into a patrol car, the whole spectacle wheeling away in a dusty procession.
My heart beats hard. What the hell just happened?
*
You want to pay his bail, that low-life?
The deputy on the front desk doesn’t seem to get the idea.
“Yes, how much is it?”
He takes his time pulling up the records, fingers tapping on the desk. “Hmm, five large, little sis.”
I hand over a bag of bills, deducting the amount. “That should cover it.”