Friday, November 20, 2009

"she sang sea-water songs"
Kofi Fosu Forson

She made me lick salt off her nipple. It reminded her of sea-water salt. Her mother used to cook with it back when they went shopping at the farmer's market. On most Sunday evenings they welcomed a share of friends to their Long Island mansion. Her father would have brought home buckets of clams, crabs and lobster. What usually followed was time spent drinking wine and dining. If Lara felt like it she got behind the piano and sang songs she one day hoped to sing on Broadway.

I've been Lara's musical director for a year. We met at a going-away party for a mutual friend. It was one of those parties where things got out of hand from the bathroom to the bedroom. Dancing alone to rock and roll was more or less masturbation.

I was indeed dancing alone when Lara walked into the room. It was clear she had been engaging in something kinky or otherwise freakish. She was at once shy yet seductive barely making eye-contact. I kept dancing. She watched me all the while making small talk. We sat down, only two people left in the living room.

A great urge overcame me when our conversation all of a sudden quieted. She rested on my shoulder, shaking loose to feel comfortable. Her arms reached and unzipped me, removing my cock, shaking her face free of hair, placing the hard cock in her mouth. Slowly she sucked stopping to rub and feel the erection. She then knelt in front sucking harder. I grabbed at the length of hair and felt her head bopping up and down.

With my dick dangling in the air, she positioned her palms on my thighs and without any traction she sucked me looking up, our eyes meeting. I encouraged her to keep sucking until I helped remove her panties.

Her back facing, she slid my cock into her pussy. She rode me, my hands helping, feeling her ass bouncing off the cock. I rummaged through her pubic hair until I felt her clit, wet and moist, stimulating as I kept up the pressure. Her body was bouncing off me. Squealing, she would grab one breast, the other hand on my thigh, as she gyrated and humped the dick, lifting herself up enough for me to see the dick going in and out of her.

I guided her onto her knees, entering, proceeding to bang and cock, hard and hot, grabbing her breasts as I cocked hard, feeling the joy and pleasure coming out of her. I came. Looking over at the side I noticed we were being watched. We scrambled to the sofa, listening as they cheered and clapped.

We took the same taxi home that night. The following morning we met for coffee. She had planned a one-woman show and needed a director. I was more than willing. It seemed wonderful, a woman that beautiful. It wasn't clear how talented she was but the whistle in her voice, the sex in her body could only mean my gratitude and fortune.

Wasn't clear to me at first but she shared an open relationship with a boyfriend. She frequently stayed at his apartment. Sitting in the very room where she and her lover made love I felt discomfort. Surprisingly we were both honest about the intimate details concerning our professional partnership and moments when she would barge into me with her knees, exposing her breasts. I often obliged, filling them within my fingers. I would look her dead in the eye rotating the breasts until I brought a rise out of her.

I had been working on songs I wanted Lara to sing. They were songs in the blues vain. I sat there with my keyboard and played, listening to Lara belt it out. She was a consummate performer, the way she stood, city-mermaid, perfectly poised, her voice soft and childlike. When she sang I tried not to look at her, keeping my focus on the keys. What I heard was a voice so moving filling the room as sounds from the keyboard bounced off the walls. At times she would move closer to me. These were moments when I felt my songs hitting home as if she was meant to sing them.

We were both entertained by our rehearsals, usually relaxing to a cup of coffee. I'd wait while she made coffee, joining me with her legs placed over my thighs. Drinking the coffee she would reminisce about her childhood. She talked distinctly about her uncle. They spent time alone when he would seduce her into singing. It seemed as if they were a couple and in love. Lara becomes enlightened when she talks about him. Asking if it was rape, she denies it, expressing her love for him.

I then would rub her feet, creasing my fingers into the depths of skin and bone. It was a moment of arousal, looking at her melt. I complimented her, all the while rubbing her feet. She would breathe out loud, intermittently touching my hand gently, tossing her face to the left and then to the right, all the while smoothing her hand over mine.

She would pull my pants open and with spit rub my cock. I then placed her on the sofa, sliding my cock up and down between her breasts, noticing as she squeezed them together. Quietly the two of us continued, my dick moving up and down along her cleavage. I tapped my dick on each breast practically fucking them. I'd cum with a purpose all over her breasts.

There was a garden in the backyard. Lara and I sat there rehearsing. Flights above, several men would position themselves, watching and listening. The look in their eyes was that of hunger. They wanted this tall sensuous woman, standing, singing...seemingly so innocent.

To fuck her would complete their lonely and miserable lives.

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