Let’s Get This Party Started

Bill Tong Photo

Bill Tong Photo

 

 

She was whirling, a lanky dervish under the twinkling lights who pretended in vain to be stars. She had somehow managed to momentarily separate her tiresome intellect from her body, a mixture of champagne and blaring music had enabled her to leave her mind at the door with the attractive brooding bouncer. The sexual energy that reigned in Mecca of Lust and Music was thick like a steak, raw and pulsing. That shared sexual energy engulfed every participant, a tsunami washing away whatever remained of morality, of decency, leaving only the naked beach, a lieu for rebirth, regeneration. For decadence. That was exactly what she had come there for.

His body came closer to her, he brushed lightly around her whirling self, like a firefly circling around a flame. She felt warm and heady with desire. Desire to be more than one, to be connected firmly to the ground she walked on, to the earth. To be less alone. His big hands clutched her hips from behind. She felt his strong chin on her neck, his hot breath falling somewhere behind her ear. Her round ass searched for proof of his attraction and was rewarded with his aching, throbbing maleness, his hard lines contrasting her soft, organic forms. She then knew that he would certainly staple her onto the wall of the evening, pin down her flightiness, tether her to a post where she would dismiss her perpetual solitude. A vague smile crossed her shiny red lips.

He was like a lumbering cruise ship, heavy and reliable, promising travel to another place, far away from his big black car in the big black parking lot. She was flowing, liquified, her tide thrashing against his solidity. His cunning fingers slid under her skirt and into her eager panties and all went silent for a certain time. He rummaged through her intimacy as if he had left something there at an earlier time. His thorough search left her completely out of breath, panting like a marathon runner. His full lips embraced her, his scruffiness prickled her delicate skin. Teeth gnashed and guttural sounds seemed to well up and search urgently for an exit as he ripped off her undergarment. A foreign, ancestral wail slipped out of her ravenous mouth as he thrust himself into her. For a moment he was hushed. His virility became nothing more than a bald, one-eyed newborn, rocking blissfully in her cradle of flesh.

Their rocking intensified, gaining speed and force. For a moment she was hushed, reduced to the ebb and flow, reduced to nothing more than her own physical pleasure. Time stopped passing as they attained their excruciating delectation. He gushed a stream of milky evidence into her needy orifice, pulsing in a beautiful staccato movement. She shook in spasmodic tremors. She gasped like a fish dying on the seashore and then suddenly all was quiet and peaceful in the leather confines of his fancy car.

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