I'm at a gig on my own, as is often the way, but I enjoy being surrounded by people all as caught up in the music as I am. The guitars are heavy and deep, throbbing through me, making me feel connected to something powerful. I smile like an animal, wired on adrenaline, and look around for someone to feed off.
That one, perfect, crushed up to the stage, eyes wide as he stares at the band in devotion. Later he'll be looking at me like that. I push closer to him, to check him out in more detail. Shoulder length dark hair, pale eyes, tight black clothes, well washed tshirt of the band we're watching. Beautiful. He's skinny as a rake, muscled in a wiry way, but he still looks fragile somehow, as if I could break him with a harsh word.
I press against him in the encore, breathing on his neck a little. He doesn't notice at first, but after a while I catch him sneaking glances behind him. There's fear and hope in his eyes and it makes my desire flare to think of bending him to my will.
As everyone claps I lean forward "You're coming home with me." It's somewhere between a command and a statement. He turns round to answer, but can't seem to make the words come. As people start leaving we stand there, in a bubble of my making as if time has stopped. He's glowing and alive and I want to tear him to pieces.
He seems to realise there's nothing else for it and just nods cautiously. My lips curl and my nostrils flare. I can always pick the ones that will submit easily, lets just see if he can entertain me as well.
I walk off and he follows me to my car, he looks like a little boy in the front seat, lost and confused. It reminds me that I need to do something. "Give me your wallet." I demand. He breathes in sharply, looks scared and my clit starts to twitch. "I'm not going to rob you, pretty thing, just hand it over."
I rifle through it, get his name, that he's 19 and a student, lives in the area, so if I need to chuck him out he can walk home. All fine. I hand it back to him and drive off. He keeps his eyes on my legs, my short skirt has ridden up and my black stockings are showing. Silly boy, he should be watching where we're going.
I lead him into my house, pour him a drink, put on some music he'll like, and sit in my chair. He stands there awkwardly. "Sit down, honey, just relax," I purr.
He perches on a seat opposite me, sipping nervously at his glass, watching me with that cute deer in the headlights look.
Can he actually speak? "So, sweetie, what are you thinking?"
He gulps, "Uh, look this kind of thing doesn't happen to me, I'm a bit out of my depth."
"But you want to be here."
"Oh yes! You're really hot and..."
He looks down at the ground, "... and you like the kind of music I like..."
It's like a magic key to unlock boys like him, I'm a fantasy come true and they can't think straight, just drift into my trap, helplessly, willingly. "Mmm, yes I do, do you know what I really like about it?" He shakes his head gently.
I smile and continue, making my voice resonant and seductive. "The way it just floats around your head... so slow and overpowering... warm and fuzzy... filling up all the gaps in your head..."
I carry on like this for a while, watching him carefully, until his eyelids start to droop and he's looking glazed and vulnerable. He's mine.
I put my glass down, his eyes follow the roll of my hips as I walk over to him. I take his drink out of his hand, put my finger under his chin and lift his face to look up at mine. "Who's a sleepy little boy, then?"
He smiles weakly, "Me, miss,"
"Yes, you are, sleepy and relaxed and turned on." I can see the bulge in his skinny jeans.
He nods, slightly ashamed.
"Shh, it's OK, pretty thing, I'm aroused too, you can probably smell me from there, can't you?" I lifted up my skirt with unhurried smoothness. He gasps as he sees I'm not wearing any panties. I stay there for a few endless heartbeats, let him drink in my smell, entranced by the sight of my beautiful pussy, and of course the spiral tattoo just above it.
"Lick me," I whisper in that special voice that must be obeyed.
He breathes faster and leans forward, his pointed pink tongue darting out to service me. I let my skirt fall over his head and hold onto his shoulders, guiding his movements to my requirements. He's very good at this, I grind my hips onto his face, congratulating myself on my choice.
"Good boy, ahhh, such a good boy, you're doing so well, you're really pleasing me..." every affirmation making him moan in pleasure into me, the vibrations buzzing against me, making me shake with desire. "Make me come, you little slut, make me come on your face, ahhhh!"
He probably can't breathe, but he doesn't complain, just waits for me to finish and pull away from him. Bless him. I sit down on his lap, feeling his erection push against my still sensitive pussy.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" I ask kindly.
"Yes please, miss," he replies cautiously, looking up at me, still a little dazed. My heart goes out to him, such pure and simple awe on his face. Completely in my hands. Awaiting my decision.
"Do you play guitar, boy?"
"Good," I unzip his trousers, pull out his thick cock, and slide myself down on top of it. "Now, if you can talk about your pedals and how you use them until I come again, I might let you come as well."
He swallows hard, trying not to show he thinks I'm crazy. "Um, Ok... I've got a vintage Univox Superfuzz... oh, god...."
"mmm.... very good, boy, keep going," He's pretty damn skilled at this too, I pump onto him and enjoy the crosseyed look he gets as he tries to think about what to say. He's got a 50-50 chance of getting to come tonight, I think.