Posted on

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


“Blonde fucking English girls with ghetto names…” It’s a line from out of a Brian Transeau track.

Yeah but that’s the present world. People inspired by black music gave their kids names that went with the music they either fucked to or were fucked out of their mind dancing to until endless hours.

And then the kids became DJ’s too.

Cherise was English, lived in Moscow, right across an alleyway in the middle of the city – through an anonymous door – from the club she owned in partnership with me.

The interior of her apartment was all post-modernist black leather and anodized steel and real fur bits and pieces – panels, throws, floor-rugs, cushions — and with a large Nile cotton sheet covered bed right in the middle of the open-plan layout.

She regularly staggered out of the side-entrance of the club on weekends and fiddled around for long minutes in her nylon jacket’s pockets for the RF ID tag, while standing out in the bitter cold outside her door. Sometimes she would have her main mixing deck with her, stowed away in its metal travel-box. After a whole night’s set at the mixing desk she would be totally out of it, mind still in the beats and rythms, and the swirling laser light show.

I never came in to see her right away then. I knew that she would tumble into bed and just disappear straight down that rabbit hole of deep dark sleep enervated by the hours and hours of hard electronic trance music.

No, I would arrive at around two in the afternoon, with plans to cook food, eat and fuck.

Cherise had this habit of wearing fairly street-level men’s cologne or male-style deodorants and bodysprays. Recently she’d been into Lynx Dark Temptation. Okay, this is an unusual bodyspray for something from an inexpensive brand: it’s heavily ginger-scented, with some sweetness coming from somewhere, as well as a rich amber and frankincense blended note. The publicity claims chocolate but I can’t see that. Maybe it’s there as a badly arguable inference to those who insist on believing the press release notes. No, to me it’s all ginger and fairy floss and the Ancient Persian Spice Road.

I love how some city women spray these kinds of heavy scents on and even after they’ve been in a warm bed for many hours, or even in an office all day long, superficially they still smell of the dry-down stage of the fragrance. But I knew Cherise quite well and after a heavy night in the club when she went to sleep she went off so deeply that she would sweat into the sheets from on top of the already stale sweat that was still on her from all the thumping dance music casino şirketleri and the long hot session working that combat DJ mixer deck. I knew that she was generally so wiped out that she never showered straight away when she got back, usually just hitting the sack completely beat.

Still the heavy-scented deodorant worked on, pretending there was only a hot sandy, minerally, incense-y, and gingery sweetness going on over all that club-dirty, animalic, uric, smell.

I had my own RF ID key.

I loved standing over her skin-warm body, sensing the effluvium of sleep rising up off the bed through the yet crisp-smelling clean sheets. We turned each other on sexually and she was as hot as hell when it came to sex. There was that urgency shared by us both over our own mutuality of sex desire, and equivalent high satisfaction with each other’s body-promise and of getting to that rare place that we all chase in sex — the dirty hot pinging almost taboo part that matches the best masturbatory fantasies. You don’t get this from every relationship, even when there is beauty or prettiness and attraction; you need that nasty twanging, edgy, almost pain/pleasure part that recurrently seeks relief from its own self-inflicted slave-tight chains of ‘dark-side’ sex addiction.

From Cherise I think I got it — that hurtingly desireable part – from her high cheekbones, her English blondeness, her smell, the music in her soul.

…I noticed this time she had brought back the portable Pioneer XDJ Aero Wireless mixing deck. This thing was not large or heavy. It was slim and futuristic and streamlined. And it had blue and green lights that glowed quite sci-fi exotically in the dark. Even so it also had strong reinforced metal posts under the knobs and it was a very sturdy thing and felt like it. And all wireless. She could turn it on and all the speakers inside the apartment would crackle and szuzz into hi-tech life.

With Cherise I really loved to fuck to the music she always had loaded onto the hard-drives. She was so so much like the music that she always played. The Thrillseekers — Synaesthesia was like a call for me to take her panties down. I hoped she had that loaded still as the first track.

She knew I was there in the room; she was stirring. “Stick the music on, Cherise.” I said.

She knew what was coming. She knew what she also wanted, too. The speakers clicked into life as she stretched an arm out and flicked the switch on the side of that cool unit that lay silently on the floor right next to her bed.

She had a bottle of sparkling water down casino firmaları there on the floor as well and she raised herself halfway up, propped onto one elbow, and picked up the bottle and unscrewed its top. She placed the bottle to her lips and sucked a mouthful. By the time she had placed it back down I was right there behind her, sitting on the bed, drinking in the sights and the sensations.

I pulled one of her arms high above her head and buried my nose into her strong-smelling armpit. Yes, initially it was all dirty-sweet ginger incense, but coming through behind it all suddenly was that powerful acrid methane/ammonia mix of human female body odour. Armgasm, I think, they call it nowadays, when you stick your cock in there and get off inside her sweaty pits and short stubbly hair. Not that I was going to do that right now. Maybe one day. Not today.

Tritonal featuring Cristina Soto singing Walk With Me dubstepped in over the top of the first track.

Cherise had these curves — a comparatively big arse beneath a neat elegant waist and with prominent round tits above. She had this honey-tanned skin that you don’t ever get from being poor in Moscow! She never used sunlamps which meant she probably went to a professional spray-on place. I always find spray-on tans do another thing to your skin scent again — it’s like one more step up into a higher convolution of modern city-life’s fundamental decadence.

I lathered her armpit with a lot of saliva from my mouth and my licking tongue. I licked everywhere underneath her arm, from behind the crease at her shoulders and on around to the skin at her back, and to the front and down onto her breasts and eventually onto her nipples, settling on one, and flicking it up and down with the tip of my tongue. Flicking at it quite hard with my tongue.

I could sense her pussy getting hotter and slipperier. I pulled her around so that I could take her from behind. In, in, into her cunt from behind, not very hard to begin with, easing myself firmly into her, but then moving more vigorously in and out so that afterawhile I was slamming away, pounding away into her, holding onto her around her bottom cheeks with my large hands and finally thrusting hard into her and crashing continuously against her soft round cheeks with my urging groin. My cock was so aroused, and hard, it sort of power-lifted itself insistently and urgingly upwards in a big autonomic up-curved erection. I speared her wet, puffy, and abjectly-submitted gash mercilessly, and lifted up deep inside her – hard, and soon exploded my hot jism into her cunt güvenilir casino and all over her ass, pumping it out in long thrilling spurts as I spoofed myself – emptying myself out uncontrollably everywhere, inside of her and outside of her, and then with unexpected second and then third convulsive jets all over her thighs and bottom.

Girls’ cunts smell different after you spill semen all into them — the skin chemistry changes their usual characteristic cunt odour of salty seaspray, and it adds to that something like warm peeled cucumber from the semen, and then suddenly it all ends up somehow like French truffles, flinty Champagne, and the wet black or brown dirt from around the Chestnut tree roots where they unearth the truffles. And then, afterawhile, you finally even get the Chestnuts themselves: that strange sweet-sour-woody, cloying, warm, moist, and roasted-in-hot-bluemetal stones aroma.

Cherise threw the bedsheets aside and stood up, her breasts wobbling just a little.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“Shower.” She replied, perfunctorily. “Stella the American flame-eating fire-bitch is coming over in half an hour.”

I never got why she was so perfunctory about the shower most of the time. The shower I had installed, was hardly just a shower; it was a Dornbracht Supernova with Illuma Grip grab bars in the shower stall. “Waterfall, rainfall, mistjet, and tropical jet. 16 colour chromo-therapy, wall-mounted diffusers, and electro valve stream adjustment… A cascade of colours, and a profusion of raindrops…”

“Stella?” I asked, as I heard the jet stream start to hiss out.


“Stella’s not American.” I pointed out. “And she’s not a ‘fire-bitch!’ She’s an ex-Bulgarian World Champion gymnast who lives in America. Why’s she coming over…?”

“She’s doing some appearances for us at the gig.”


“Why? Do you know her?”

“Maybe.” I answered. “Anyway Stella’s not her real name,” I added, quickly. Cherise often talked in the heat of sexual bravado about how bi she was but I hadn’t ever seen any evidence of it. In any event it was probably better to let on sooner rather than later that I knew ‘Stella’ and that I knew ‘Stella’ would not really care that you only thought you were being just a tricky fantasy lipstick lesbian rather than a real clam-licking one. Especially not if you were as good-looking as Cherise was…

Meridian — Shifter (the Original Mix) came on through the big speakers. Girls cunt-licking in real life to the music of Meridian is the single most amazing thing you will ever experience in the whole of your life, and I was going to make sure that I remembered to have that track playing when it happened here. Because it was going to happen; because I knew just exactly what Stella the fire-bitch was really really like. And how good she was at seducing.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir