Strings by Kendall Grey Page B

only assume he’s filling that rubber. Goddamn it,
what a waste of good cum.
    I rejoice in knowing I made him climax
first. Now it’s time for me to pay the piper. Squeezing my ass
tight around his schlong, I ride him for three more strokes. The
head of his cock hits my clit like a battle ram, and sweet Jesus,
Mary, and Joseph, I douse the fucking curtain with my release.
    I fucking squirt.
    Never done that before.
    In the aftermath, I quietly heave for
breath. Shit, he had to have noticed. Is he thoroughly
disgusted?
    He reaches around me and touches the wet
fabric drape. He licks his fingers, and the rest of me melts. I
want to see if I can do it again. Maybe I’ll aim for his face next
time. Cunt hydrant. Fuck!
    I feel his grin in the dark. His arms
enclose me in a blanket of cum and warmth and satisfaction. And
then he kisses me. Not like a guy who’s flailing in wild throes of
passion. Not like a guy motivated purely by sex. Not like a guy
trying to shut me up and get rid of me. No, his tongue makes love
to my mouth. Slow, careful circles floating on waves of desire.
Without thinking, I answer with the same warmth.
    Then my brain crashes the party.
    Do not get involved. This is the last stop
for you and him. Time to get off the train and make a clean break.
You honored your promise. Now get the fuck out of his bed and don’t
come back.
    Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen after he made
me hose his bunk.
    But I really should leave. I don’t want him
assuming this is more than payback, even though it’s starting to
shape up that way.
    Fuck. Why do I always fall for guys who are
totally wrong for me? Tomorrow, he’ll probably act like nothing
ever happened. When he gets horny and can’t find a groupie to bang,
he’ll come looking for another bash-and-dash.
    But would that be so bad? And who says I
can’t use him the same way? If we agree to keep it casual and not
get involved beyond the fucking, we both win.
    I like this plan.
    I pull his still-hard honey dipper from my
ass, and he sighs. I use his bed sheet to sop up the stray squirt
juice that got on my leg and to tidy up the lube on my ass. I drag
my little shorts up, peek past the curtain, and survey. Coast is
clear. He touches my arm and lifts a brow. With a saucy grin, I
leave him with the mess and commando crawl to the bathroom to clean
up any remaining fluids.
    See, it was a good idea to do it at his
place after all. I’m so pleased.
    Once I settle in my bed, my phone
vibrates.
    U made me so hard
tonight , he says.
    Ass fucking does that 2 a guy.
    No. When u were on stage.
    I shut my open mouth with the flat of my
hand. He liked watching me play? Maybe that’s what the “attack”
after Cherry Buzz Float’s set was about. Fuck, that’s an even
bigger turn-on than the squirting was.
    Can I have my song now?
    No.
    Smug, rich bastard. Why am I not surprised?
Though playing fuck-tag with him to try and win the napkin back
could be a hell of a lot of fun. The perfect carrot to dangle in
front of me.
    Footsteps trudge down the aisle toward me.
My pulse takes off at a sprint. I squint through the crack in the
drape. Damn it, Shades doesn’t even pause as he passes my bunk. He
must be going to the bathroom.
    Maybe he’s thinking the same thing I am.
That we can keep up the steamy-hot sex as long as we don’t get
caught.
    The possibilities boggle. And the
possibility of being discovered at any moment ratchets up my need
for variety. Ah, the glorious temptation of pretending to hate
Shades in front of the band but secretly fucking his brains out at
every opportunity gets the juices flowing anew.
    I’m officially in love with this plan.
    This is going to be the beginning of a
beautiful partnership.
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Interlewd Two

    It turns out undercover fucking does wonders
for inspiration. I spend the next few days working on songs with
Kate and Jinx. I ignore Shades, as he does me.
    At least in public. Nobody
knows we’ve been texting each other on