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You stop outside the door, listening. The music pulls you in; reminding you of fantasies and desires, hidden in your darkest thoughts.

Your nights are empty, and you walk the streets, for what you do not know. Could it be here? A sensual, but more dominant touch? Submission at the hands of a master? The freedom gained in letting go? Enter my world. Come, Play With Me.

The room is cloaked in semi-darkness. Smoke rises from the tables where people drink and listen. Sounds from a classical guitar circle, surrounding you with its spell. Find your way to the corner table, and order your favorite wine. Close your eyes. Listen. Let the sounds wash over you; around inside your head. Your hand reaches for your neck; touching, feeling. Run your thumb across your lips. So beautiful. Does the pluck of the strings harden your nipples? Your breasts begin to strain against the fabric of your dress. You arch forward twisting in your seat and your skirt rides up above your knees. Here’s your wine. Savour it as it trickles down your throat. Pretend it’s me. Do you wish for the taste of my tongue, or is it my cum you desire? I feel your anticipation. Your mouth open. Let me take you. Play with me.

Run your hands down your body. Cup your breasts. Feel the music guide you. The musician’s fingers press and slide along the strings. Rub your nipples. They grow harder. Arch your back. Sway in rhythm with the master. Surrender. The music’s spell intoxicates. I promise I will reach your soul. Your head is dropping to one side; one hand trails down your body. Are your thighs wet? Is your sex clenching? Move your hand along your lower lips. The musician’s fingers press against the strings. Has your clit grown hard? Insert your finger in your pussy. Feel the juices. So slick. Slide up and down with the rhythm of the strings. The melody is building. Bring your finger to your mouth. Taste your juices as I would taste them; I am eating you. Rub your fingers on your lips, your face. Your breath is coming quicker. Your pussy is grinding on the chair. Play with me.

Stand up and move toward me. Feel it. Let your body sway. Forget the others. They are nothing. You are all that matters. Your desires, your feelings, your pleasure. You and the music, together, alone. Beautiful. Let it surround you. Hug you. Your hands play the music on your body. Yes, begin at your shoulders. Work your way down. Close your eyes. Pluck your nipples as his fingers pluck the strings. Hands on your ass. Feel the beat. Slap! Slap! Juices run down your legs. Round and round the melody. Hips circling. In. Out. Cup your breasts. Offer them to me. Feel the pain; from your nipples to your clit. No. Not yet. Play with me.

Stand behind the chair and place your hands upon it’s back. Throw your leg over. Pretend you’ve straddled me. Feel the melody. Ride me with its rhythm. Can you feel me inside you? Full. Just for you. Pluck, pluck. Sliding, sliding. Your nipples harden as you lean into me. Your hands squeeze the chair’s back. Your head drops back and sways from side to side. Your eyes are closed. Your mouth open. Slide your thumb into your mouth. Pretend it is me. Feel me harden for you as his fingers slide and press the strings. Fill your mouth. Suck me in. Your pleasure is my desire. Your hand moves to your pussy. Raise your leg. Stand your heel upon the chair. Open for me. Arch your back. Beautiful. Circle your clit. The juices run. I see you. I smell you. I taste you. Toss the chair away. Dance toward the sound. That’s right. You are the moth. I am the flame. Play with me.

The rhythm builds. Your body sways. The musician’s fingers move along the strings. The music draws you in. Forget the others. They are in your shadow. Watch the musician. He feels it too. See how he watches as his fingers coax the sounds from his guitar. Let the music speak to you. Watch his hands. Pluck. Pluck. Slide. Slide. Large hands. Long fingers. Open your mouth. Lick your lips. Look into his eyes. Dark pools. Do you see his arousal, his desire? Like you, he’s been waiting. Down, down. On your knees. Tighten your thighs, lean back. Thrust your cunt toward him. His eyes follow you and widen as the music builds. Pluck. Pluck. Slide. Slide. He kicks the stool away and stands over you. His bulging jeans outline his cock. Your hands reach up, but cannot touch him. Pluck. Pluck. Slide. Slide. He walks over you, and you rise and turn to face his back. Move behind him. Grab his ass. Close your eyes. Sway with the rhythm. Feel his heat. Feel the music. Surrender yourself. The melody is building. Let it take you higher. Faster, faster. Ride it, ride it. Harder, harder. Now! Cum for me! The crescendo crashes and a white light is all you see. There is no sound. Smoke rises above the tables where men drink and watch. The musician is holding you. Comforting you. Protecting you and keeping you safe. He will wait until you come back up; out of the space where you are floating.

The club’s lights are low. The musician is gone. Now there is only music from a box fed by coins. Smoke curls in circles round the room where men play cards and women amble displaying their wares. You wander towards the door and leave without a backward glance. The streets are foggy, and the air is chilled. You pull your coat tighter, wishing for the warmth you left behind. You begin to hurry; anxious to find the lights where people fill the streets.

Now that you’ve found me, you will return. Until next time. I’ll be waiting. Come Play With Me.