He couldn’t have been any more perfect if I had picked him out of central casting. He was the punk rock proto-type I had lusted after all my life. That perfectly messy hair; the tight jeans; the oldest Clash t-shirt know to man; threadbare and worn; the horn-rimmed glasses; the tattoos. It was as if my brain had made him, and put him there behind the bar. All the young punkettes loved him too. It was obvious as I watched them jockey for position around the bar, leaning seductively forward, their glossed lips formed into perfect half-smiles. I had been coming to this bar for months, and every time I saw him, it sent a zing through my body, straight to my crotch. Just as it had the first time.
I knew it was stupid to lust after this guy, this boy, who I had never really even spoken to. He would nod at me in recognition, but most of the time I wouldn’t even get that. No, guys like him didn’t talk to me. They never had, not even when I was his age. I was one of those early thirties types who was still holding on. Too young to give up the fight, but too old to be cool anymore. Even on a night like this, when the old-school band was playing a reunion show, I was still one of the oldest in the room. Except for maybe the promoter.
Before the show started, I waited in the queue behind all the cool chicks so I could get a drink. It was worth all the effort when I was front and center with him. It always was. When I had first seen him, I thought his cool routine was just an act. But, it wasn’t. His demeanor was as aloof and unaffected as they come. It drove me crazy. I looked at him, trying to find the balance between staring and glancing. His glasses were smudged with fingerprints. He barely looked up when he asked me what I wanted. It made me so hot, it was almost embarrassing. But I couldn’t help it. What girl hasn’t lusted after someone who doesn’t want her?
He asked to see my i.d., and I laughed out loud at the request. He had never carded me before, and I wasn’t sure why he was now. He didn’t seem the type to flatter old ladies to make them feel young. He handed me my beer and his wet fingers slipped over my hand as he waited to let go, one tick too long. He smiled. His smile, his touch, shocked my body awake. I would have giggled--had it been 1986. I could feel him looking at me as I walked away, and the thought made me warm between my legs. I walked over to my friends to wait for the band to start. I used every ounce of will in my body to not look back at him. I had some dignity, after all. Not like the other girls in the room. Their young and fresh confidence gave them no shame in these matters. He rebuffed every advance, without saying a word. It only made me want him more. Before I could think about it another second, the lights went down and the guitar roared out of the duct taped speakers.
When the show ended, my friends took off, not interested in seeing the next band. I made my way to the bathroom before the trip home. He wasn’t behind the bar, so there was no need for me to stick around and humiliate myself any further. Realizing that I was being silly, I stopped scanning the room for him, and headed towards the back of the bar. The narrow hall had dim lighting, and I had to blink a few times to adjust my eyes. That’s when I saw him. Standing by the cigarette machine. My dream boy.
He leaned down and picked up the pack of cigarettes that had fallen from inside. With him staring at me, I felt more awkward than I ever had in those high school days. His lanky body moved into my space, his height towering above me. I froze. The bathroom was two steps away, and so was he. I couldn’t move, I didn’t know what to do next. It was times like these I wished I could be like all of those other girls out there. There had never been a time in my life when I was bold or daring. As that dorky kid, I had always told myself when I got older, I would do exactly what I wanted--that growing up would turn me from the scared girl to the spontaneous woman I wanted to be. But, that had turned out to be a lie. Inside, I was still as timid and predictable as ever. Maybe those girls would be fearless their whole lives. I envied them. As the match in his hand flared, I was brought back to the situation at hand. He was still staring at me, and now I was staring at him. Just being close to him was having a serious effect on me. I decided to be smart, and just go to the bathroom. I turned my eyes from him, and reached out for the ladies’ room door.
His hand reached mine first, and he pushed me to the wall, his body pressed against mine. His lips closed around the cigarette, and I heard the paper singe as he took a long drag. He dropped it as he blew out the smoke, crushing it with his Doc Marten. With his fingers still circling my wrist, he just kept looking at me. My lungs couldn’t seem to find enough air between us, and my heart decided it was time to see how fast it could beat. My face flushed deep red when I saw his lips curl into a smile, the ring in the center of his bottom lip clicking lightly on his teeth. I just wanted him to kiss me, I needed him to. But he didn’t. My hands wrapped around his waist, without asking my brain permission first. My hips were equally independent, thrusting slightly forward to try and force the issue. Nothing happened. He managed to reduce me to a quivering little girl with just his eyes. I could only imagine what his hands could do.
Finally, his head lowered to mine, and he ran his finger slowly over my lips. I didn’t want to close my eyes, I just wanted to keep looking at his beautiful green eyes. But they fluttered closed anyway, right as his mouth met mine. His lips tasted like beer, reminding me of my first kiss so many years ago. His hand moved from my wrist to my neck, and then his long fingers slid down towards my chest. His tongue moved further into my mouth and I desperately gripped his inked arms as if I was about to fall from a cliff. The noise of the bar was picking up again, as the next band was getting ready to hit the stage. He pulled back as the sound of footsteps came toward us.
“Come on.”
He pulled me by the hand through a door covered in band stickers and spray paint. Inside was a dingy room occupied by a desk, a file cabinet and a crappy old couch. The door slammed behind us and he spun me around to face him again. The sound of thudding bass filled the silence between us, my hand still in his. He led me to the worn, old couch against the wall. He sat down, and without a moment’s hesitation, I straddled him. Again, my body seemed to be acting without my consent. Before my logic could interfere, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. Now was not the time to be thinking rationally. It was time to be that bold woman I had promised my teenage self I would be. His hands roamed my back, his tongue forcing any last resistance out of my mind.
The room vibrated from the sound system just beyond the door. He pulled back from my kiss, and stared at me again. God, he was young. In the light of the office, I realized he couldn’t have been any more than twenty-two. My heart ached, he was so damned cute. I pulled at the hem of that Clash t-shirt, but his forceful hands stopped me. He gingerly pulled it over his head and tossed it onto the desk behind us.
“It’s vintage.”
“Sorry.”
His bare chest was covered in tattoos, smooth and taut with muscle. I ran my hands down his skin; it radiated heat beneath my fingers. He put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled my mouth down on top of his. I tweaked his nipples between my fingers, making his hips rock forward into mine. I took it as an invitation, and I started grinding myself into him, his hard cock rubbing my clit through my jeans.
His hands yanked at my top, the impatience of his youth shining through his cool exterior. I let him undress me, taking my bra off without looking away from my eyes. His fingers traced over my nipples, teasing flesh and metal. I couldn’t look away from his stare, which was still giving me almost as much pleasure as his hands. His impossibly long fingers squeezed and pinched until my nipples were hard and red, sending shots of aching need to my pussy. His eyes dropped from mine, his mouth lowering to my erect flesh, his teeth clicking against the bar through my nipple. The warm, wet tongue rolled over and over me, sucking and releasing. Back and forth, one nipple then the other, until I thought I would explode just from his mouth on my tits.
My hands went to work between us, feeling for his belt buckle. I pulled his button-flys open and felt the heat of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. I touched his stiff dick and he gasped. He gripped my arms tight as I stroked him, his tongue slowly torturing me again. It took every once of strength I had, but I managed to pull away from him. He protested at first when I moved from his lap, but he relaxed when he saw me kneel in front of him.
“Stand up.”
He stood up, a little wobbly, and I pulled his jeans and boxers down to the floor. I looked up at him one last time before I leaned forward to put his hard cock in my mouth. He didn’t move at first, letting me run my tongue all over him, licking and sucking with abandon. But, soon he was pumping his hips, pushing himself farther into my throat, his Prince Albert tickling the back of my tongue. His hands tangled up my hair, gently pushing me, making me suck harder. I felt him tighten and grow in my mouth. I could feel the linoleum vibrating under my knees. I grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, deeper. I wanted more. I had never been in this position before, and the power of it all was overwhelming. I could have stayed on my knees in front of him all night.
But, suddenly, he pulled me up by the shoulders, his cock exiting my mouth with a sucking plop. He pushed me back to the desk behind us, shedding his pants from around his ankles. Laying me down across the messy top, he pulled off my pants, leaving my dripping panties on. He dropped to his knees, and I felt his stare focus on my pussy. His face sunk between my legs, and he pulled the wet fabric of my panties to the side. Running two fingers over my lips, he gently nudged them apart, releasing the heat of my cunt. I waited long seconds to feel the contact of his tongue, but when I looked down, he was just staring, penetrating me with his intense gaze. The slow trace of his fingers and his burning gaze made me wetter than I had been in a long time. Removing his glasses, he closed his eyes, and I felt the heat of his mouth singe my clit as he sucked hard. His tongue flicked twice before he released me, the length of his finger buried deep inside my cunt. One finger became two, then three and his tongue danced over my clit again and again. Smooth, liquid strokes of heat ran over my sensitive flesh, his free hand reaching up to fondle my aching nipples. I could have come all over him right then and there, right as the band outside was starting its next song. The pressure inside me grew to heights I had never known, the moans from my throat barely a whisper over the noise.
Everything stopped, his hands and mouth leaving me teetering on the brink. He lifted his face from my cunt; it was smeared with my wetness. He pulled me from the desk, and turned me around. His huge hands, wet from my cunt, pressed on top of mine, my palms flat on the papers and junk strewn over the desk. He ran his hands up my arms to my tits and squeezed both nipples, hard. I whimpered as he let go, missing his touch even though it had only lasted a second. I heard him tear open the condom wrapper with his teeth. I could do nothing but wait. His hand was on my hip, and finally he started teasing my wet pussy with the head of his cock. He pulled back when I tried to push myself on his length. My heart pounded as fast as the lousy cover of Blitzkrieg Bop that was coming from the stage.
Finally, his cock nudged further opened me up, flooded me with heat. He pulled me back hard onto his waiting dick, my breath stuck in my throat as I swallowed a gasp. He was big, or it had been way too long. Or both. His fingers massaged my clit as he fucked me, my hands pushing random papers from the desktop. His teeth pulled on my earlobe, then my neck, biting into the flesh until I cried out. He pinched my clit between his fingers and I felt my pussy tighten. I yelled so loudly I was sure this time the whole bar could here me over the shitty music. I was coming. Coming all over my dream boy’s hard cock. He bit gently into my back, as I heard his moans deep in his throat. Thrusting harder, he pushed me all the way down onto the desk, pressing into me. He was so deep it almost hurt, but I liked it. I could feel him twitching, jerking inside me as he came, digging his forehead into my back.
I could hear his heavy breathing, his body lay limply above me. The band just finished as he stood up. He kissed me deep, his mouth tasting like me. I walked out of the office on shaky legs, just in time for the encore.
Originally Published August 2008