I wrote this for @CharlieInThe’s ultimate summer playlist competition. I thought I saw her tweet that as long as she got it by morning it would still count. By my (occasionally inaccurate) count, it’s 5:00am in the UK right now so… fingers crossed. If I missed the deadline, that’s OK, it was a good exercise and fun to write. Thanks for the prompt!
I walked down the stairs in the dark, feeling my way with bare feet, letting the sound of Three Dog Night (or was it The Band?) guide me through the lower level of the house. My appreciation for 70s rock had grown substantially since I met Dylan. Of course it’d had nowhere to go but up.
When I turned down the hall, I trained my night-adjusted eyes on the sliver of blue light coming from a cracked door at the end. I picked my way through the darkness, my heart pounding louder and faster with each step. It was Led Zeppelin now, and I could hear faint whimpers and pleading, wet words saying “please” and “I can’t” and “please” in an alternating rhythm.
My hand was hot on the cool knob as I pushed the door inward. There was Lizette, each creamy limb stretched and tied to the corners of the giant bed. A black blindfold over her eyes, her red hair spilling over the side of the mattress and flickering like flame with each frantic twist of her head.
Dylan was kneeling beside her with three fingers deep in her cunt and his thumb stroking her clit. God he was good with his hands. He didn’t let up as he looked at me, continuing his rhythm almost lazily. It was a delicious juxtaposition, Lizette writhing and hot, Dylan, cool and relaxed (well, mostly relaxed).
He smiled at me and raised one eyebrow, the look charming and hot and a little questioning. “Is this how you wanted it?” his eyebrow asked. The look I gave him back, the look I couldn’t hold steady because my eyes kept flicking back to Lizette, said that it most definitely was.
I didn’t say a word, or make much of a sound as I slowly sank into the armchair in the corner of the room. She must have heard or sensed something though, in spite of her delirium, because she gasped, “Is someone here, Dylan? Anna, are you here?”
Dylan was still looking at me, and I shook my head and put a finger to my lips, smiling. I bade him continue with a wave. He grinned again and lowered his head to Lizette’s sweet breast, prising a gasp out of her and, if I knew him, which I did, making her forget any sound she may have heard.
I watched for a long time, enthralled by the contrast of his honey-colored skin against her pale lush body. She was close, breathing sharply when he bit her, causing her to shout and writhe harder.
My cunt was tingling as I watched them together. While he worked her, I slipped off my shoes and stepped out of my skirt. I glanced over at the big screen tv as I unbuttoned my blouse. Now, Roger Daltrey was stomping around a stage, fringe flying (he was actually pretty hot). Dylan’s habit of having the television tuned to music videos or concert clips while we fucked annoyed me when we first met, but I’d gotten to like the flickering blue glow across our skin. I particularly liked how ethereal it made Lizette look now.
My attention was fully back on her. She was falling apart. Her breathing was ragged (so was Dylan’s for that matter). I knelt down at the footboard, my chin resting on my hands, and simply watched him take her over the edge. Her skin was flushed and pink, his erection was pulsing, I wanted to touch him, them, so much. As her convulsions subsided, he pulled his hand away from her slick lips and held it out to me. I opened my mouth and he slipped his fingers in, my tongue lapping and sucking them clean. His eyes never left mine, his free hand running up and down Lizette’s thigh as she calmed.
He slid aross the bed and stood behind her head, bending down to whisper in her ear. She opened her mouth took his cock inch by inch. As she opened her throat for him, I knelt on the bed between her legs and dipped my head for a long lick of her slick cunt. I had the taste of her in my mouth and I couldn’t wait for more.
I heard the surprise, the question in her moan, she hadn’t known I was there. I smiled, grabbed her thighs and tasted her again. Spending a little time now, swirling my tongue and lapping her up. Dylan had his hand on the back of my head. I felt him tug my hair and pull me up for a swift, intense kiss. We both tasted like Lizette, it was heady.
“Good girl” he whispered in my ear, then pressed my face back down between her legs. (As if I needed any encouragement). Her clit was hot and swollen from coming just a few minutes before. I sucked it into my mouth, rolling it between my teeth, getting a rush when I heard her moan loudly around Dylan’s cock and thrash as much as the restraints would allow.
Dylan must have pulled back to give her some air because I heard a gasp from Lizette and then a strangled shout, “Goddammit, Anna!”
Was that Buffalo Springfield now? Something was happening here, for sure.
I smiled into her pussy and delved my tongue deeper into her heat