StarofChristmas (3 page)

“Thanks.” I hear the retreat of his footsteps. “Where’s Rick?”

“He’ll be out soon. He needs another minute. Tommy doesn’t
like to lose momentum. Kick the act off solo. If our boy’s watching from the
sideline, he’ll be ready in a flash. I know I would be.”

Up to the challenge, I debate how best to tempt Rick to join
me in the limelight. I recall our sessions, the uninhibited passion we’ve
shared. I’m determined to goad him into hurrying.

“Do what comes natural, Star.”

I position myself on the bed with my legs curled beneath me,
my hands propped backward on the fuzzy sheet to thrust my breasts forward. I
refuse to hide or shy away. The bed lurches a little then slides, rolling out
toward the center of the stage, driven by a small motor I hear working
underneath.

Fun.

A low murmur sweeps through the crowd as I am revealed inch
by inch to their hungry stares. The intense spotlight singes my skin. It melts
away my chill. I tip my head back and shake out my hair, basking in the glow
and the heat on my bare chest. The motion shimmies my breasts, topped with
hardened nipples.

Cheers and whistles float above the low music, which sets
the tone for my debut with heavy, bass reverberations. I lower my lids, peeking
through the haze toward the vague figures lurking in mock obscurity. The thrill
of their existence—distant yet undeniable—propels one of my hands to glide from
the luxurious bedding to my moisturized calf.

I stroke the smooth skin, attempting to mute the outrageous
desire materializing in every pore of my being at the thought of becoming their
erotic centerpiece. I only succeed in torturing myself. My fingers meander
across the landscape of my figure, enjoying the familiar dips and curves along
the path, past my hip and across my quivering belly.

“Lower!” someone shouts.

The crowd shushes the impatient attendee, though I am glad
to oblige. I nibble my bottom lip as my fingers flutter over my nude mound to
stroke the damp slit below.

Power races through my veins. I sense every stare locked on
my most minute motions and I can’t stop myself from testing the boundaries. I fall
onto the mountain of pillows, my arms flung wide as I savor the decadent
plushness. Careful to keep my knees pressed tight together, I prop my feet flat
on the mattress. My legs bend in front of me, slightly below chest height.

I tease the gathering of voyeurs by parting my thighs until
a tiny sliver of my pussy is visible. When the air becomes still and quiet
enough I imagine I can hear men rustling below their waistbands to cup their
cocks. I snap my legs closed once more. Anticipation sizzles through the
auditorium, punctuated by a smattering of grudging laughter, frustrated groans
and longing sighs.

Absolute influence is addictive.

I lick my lips then insert my index finger into my mouth,
dampening the tip with my saliva and traces of shiny pink gloss. I swirl the
mixture around one nipple while peeking down at my chest to ensure the rosy tip
glistens as I intend. Pretty.

It’s effortless to surrender to instinct, though performing
violates the code of conduct I’m accustomed to. Usually I take requests, enact
fantasies, embody my clients’ wishes and transform them into reality while
divining my own enjoyment from satisfying a patron.

I move on to the other nipple, treating it to the same
attentions.

When I want.

For as long as I want.

As hard as I want. Or not.

Here, now, I’m free to do as I please, secure in the
knowledge my viewers feed off
my
ecstasy. Their rapture will follow mine
tonight.

I kick my feet, raising them high, flashing my ass and the
compressed folds of my pussy. The freedom of my display rushes to my brain.
Delirious with indulgence, I giggle like a naughty child.

Lost in my own delight, the unbreakable hold of strong
fingers, which easily surround my ankles, catches me off guard. Rick! My heart
races as my legs are yanked in opposite directions, my feet pinned near my
shoulders, spread wide before the fascinated crowd.

Good thing I practice yoga.

A round of applause—and my earnest moans—encourages Rick to
continue. From my perch on the round bed, I cant my head backward to study his
form. His erect cock proclaims his lack of performance anxiety. I reach up, my
hands locking behind his thick thighs, then tug.

He doesn’t resist.

Rick climbs onto the bed, kneeling with one leg on either
side of my head. His furred shins trap my arms to the mattress, heightening my
surrender. I wouldn’t have imagined relinquishing control would thrill me. It
does.

My muscles liquefy in his hold, waiting for him to signal
where he intends to lead us next. He sinks lower. I part my lips to admit his
swollen hard-on when it brushes my lips, not all that surprised by his
selection.

I mean, he
is
a man.

What shocks me is the earthy tang of his shaft and the salty
fluid coating the tip like rich icing. I’ve never touched him without a layer
of latex between us—certainly have never tasted him.

When I freeze, he caresses the inside of my knees. His pets
escalate to kneading on my thighs. Still, he doesn’t thrust farther into my
willing mouth. Ever the gentleman, he provides time and space for me to object.

To hell with that. I lunge upward, sucking him so deep my
lips bump his sac. Holding him in my throat, I wiggle my tongue along the
topside of his shaft until I can lip his balls. His flavor bursts along my
taste buds, more refreshing than an after-dinner mint.

Rick growls.

He strokes the rippling muscles of my throat before he
gathers one of my legs close to his chest, supporting the back of my knee in
the crook of his elbow. With a stern tap on my inner thigh, he communicates his
orders. I’m to hold the other in a similar fashion, spreading myself for our
guests.

The angle parts the lips of my pussy, leaving my nectarous
center exposed.

Vulnerable.

Ragged grunts and groans explode from the crowd on random
occasion. They remind me of making popcorn. The first premature eruptions occur
few and far between, warning of the impending epidemic of ecstasy.

I can’t wait.

“I’ve never seen so many guys lose it before the fucking
begins.” Rick whispers his encouragement for my ears alone. “You’re gorgeous.
One of a kind, Star.”

He walks the fingertips of his free hand across my tensed
abdomen. My hips flex, using the leg in his grasp for leverage. He avoids
touching my steaming core.

Two can play this game.

I allow my lips to uncurl from my teeth, exposing his veined
shaft to the sharp edges of my incisors. His cock makes mini-thrusts into my
mouth as he chuckles. “No biting, bad girl.”

He delivers a series of light slaps to my pussy, detonating
an explosion. A shockwave of pleasure zips up my spine. I moan around Rick’s
substantial girth. In the darkness, another patron comes, bringing their night
to an early end.

“I’ll give you what you need. Let me torture them first. I
want them to see what I’m about to have. I’m the luckiest bastard in this room,
Star.” He runs his index and middle fingers through the furrow of my sex, one
on each side of my pussy. I try to hump his hand. Straining to grind my clit on
the apex of his digits, I can’t quite place him where I like.

“Soon, love,” he whispers as he splays his hand, opening me
wider. The spotlight illuminates every detail of my anatomy for the crowd of
onlookers. Rick rims the mouth of my pussy with the tip of one broad finger,
driving me insane.

By degrees, he tests the softness of my engorged
tissue—sinking in until my cunt swallows his knuckles—then withdraws
completely, slower than I would have believed possible. The steady penetration
awakens nerve-endings along my channel I swear I’ve never activated before.

His thumb strums light and quick over my clit, making my
eyes roll in my skull. I shudder in his hold.

This time when I hear someone’s shout of completion, it
startles me. The crowd is disappearing from my awareness as Rick consumes my
field of vision. He’s becoming my universe. It’s a place where the pursuit of
pleasure is my single objective.

I fight back, lavishing his cock and balls with generous
attention until he trembles in my grasp. My smile spreads across his wrinkled
flesh when he admits defeat.

“One more second and I’ll shoot.” Rick pants. “To hell with
Tommy and his show.”

I release his shaft, unwilling to forsake the chance to have
him stretching me, pounding me. He’s a master of raw, untamed fucking. Exactly
what I crave tonight.

With a groan, he settles onto his haunches. He abandons my
leg to raise my shoulders, avoiding sitting on me, which I appreciate. No
sooner am I propped in front of him, he shifts again. This time, he reclines on
the mountain of pillows, drawing me into his lap, my back pressed to his chest.

We’re beyond flirting now. Beyond control or tact. He levers
me into place with one arm while he aims his cock at my dripping pussy. He
leans forward to whisper into my hair, “There are condoms in the pillowcase if
you’d like me to wear one.”

I squirm in his restraining hold until his bare tip prods my
entrance. I can’t smother the cry escaping my lungs when I settle onto his
shaft, his cock drilling deep.

Sexuality whips around the room. Mine. Rick’s. It oozes from
the faceless men and women in the audience.

Ours.

Rick puts me on display. He supports my hips, raising and
lowering me on his full erection while he slips his knees beneath mine and
spreads us both. White noise generated by audience members shedding clothing
fills the auditorium. My moans and whimpers layer on top.

I undulate my pelvis to stroke Rick as fully as possible. In
this position, he has far more authority to set our pace. He presents me to the
crowd, allowing the ambiguous people to worship my form and the desire we
magnify in each other.

A light sheen of perspiration coats my skin from the fever
he lights inside me. I have to have more. Something harder, faster and deeper
than this showcase fuck.

“More!” I scream in frustration.

Rick obliges by tipping forward, sending me scrambling to my
hands and knees. Before I recover my balance, he slams to the hilt in my pussy.
He hunches over my ass, which sticks into the air, and bites my neck hard
enough to leave a mark.

“Yes.” I rock backward to meet his second lunge, dislodging
his mouth in the process. “Again. Make me yours. Show them I belong to you
alone.”

I don’t bother to pitch my demands low. I don’t care who
hears. In fact, all I can focus on—all that matters—is Rick and our joint
satisfaction.

With a feral snarl, he releases my hips, exchanging them for
my shoulders. When he cups them in his large palms, he rears up, taking me with
him. I hang, my torso suspended in his grasp, my chest perpendicular to his, my
knees planted on the mattress. He impales me with violent plows of his trim
hips.

He bottoms out in my pussy time after time.

He fucks me with abandon. Rings of muscle respond, clenching
him tighter on each pass. One strong thrust knocks me from his grip. I slip to
the mattress, my shoulder turned.

Rick keeps fucking, driving into me from behind. We
improvise. I lay on my side. He straddles my bottom thigh, which is straight
along the mattress. His arms wrap around my top leg, trapping it tight to his
huffing chest. My calf dangles over his shoulder.

Holy Christmas!

I don’t recognize the mewling pouring from between my parted
lips as he screws farther inside me the lower he drops his hips. We grind
together in sinuous spiral as he continues to plunge to the extremity of my
pussy. He hammers inside me, stimulating the walls of my channel as he shuttles
in and out.

Over and over.

When I think we’ve maximized the sensual potential of the
experience, the motor on the bed kicks in again. The circular mattress begins
to rotate, exhibiting our coupling from all angles. My breasts jiggle as he
fucks me. My pussy becomes the central attraction as we spin. Then, from the
backside, his thick cock must appear to tunnel between my ass cheeks.

Curses, pants and cheers echo around us.

Rick rides me like a wild man, proving to every dude
watching he’s the only one who can rule my fierce sexuality. No one has
inspired the titanic pressure escalating in my belly before him. Before
tonight.

I look over my shoulder, hoping to see the same confused
surrender on his handsome face. The instant our gazes lock, we both quake, our
epic orgasms inevitable.

We hang on for a few more synchronized thrusts, accompanied
by a twist of our hips, then disintegrate together. A dull roar from the
stands, which I’d completely forgotten, forms a wave of lust, ambushing me with
its force.

My hand flies out to the side, finding Rick’s white-knuckled
fingers at my hip without hesitation. I grip him tight as I shatter, strangling
his cock as I come harder than ever before in my life.

Desire, passion, ecstasy…affection?

A massive ball of swirling emotions augments the physical
gift he’s bestowed.

The simultaneous riot of all the muscles in my body leave me
seizing. Rick yanks his cock from my still-clenching pussy and strangles the
base. He roars, tendons straining in his neck as he pumps his thick, white come
all over my flushed torso. Jet after jet burst from the plum head of his
erection to splatter on my ribs, my breast and my lips.

The warm splash triggers another round of contractions,
extending my pleasure.

Somewhere in the distance, several men grunt their shared
satisfaction.

Then all is eerily quiet.

The curtain drops. Thick fabric can’t dampen the rumble of
cheers or the thunderous clapping that barrages it from the other side. Similar
hoots and high-fives sprinkle across the crew’s stations behind the stage.