Sunday, January 12, 2020

Dreams Come True (Masturbation Monday #280 & Wicked Wednesday #398)


Happy New Year, everyone! I know it’s been a while since I posted a story. I’ve been a little unfocused as of late and my muse has been rather flighty. I finally got the wench to cooperate, but she insisted on a story about our favorite subject—a sexy musician. Hey, who am I to argue as long as I’m writing.

Please click on the badges below the story to read all the other posts!

Hope you enjoy,

Ria ;)
Twitter: @RiaRestrepo





Dreams Come True
By Ria Restrepo
Copyright ©2020. All rights reserved.


Any second now I was going to stop fantasizing about a man I couldn’t have. Not yet, but soon. I really couldn’t help it. He was a walking, talking wet dream—my every fantasy come to life. As he bent over his guitar, strumming it and softly singing to himself, his longish golden-brown hair fell across his face. I wanted to brush it aside so I could see his breathtaking blue eyes, but that would give me away.

Not only was he eye candy, but the man could also sing. His voice was like warm butterscotch—rich, mellow, and intriguing. And the songs he wrote spoke to something deep in my soul I’d never acknowledged before. Every time I listened to him, I was absolutely captivated and aroused beyond reason.

He looked up and caught me loitering outside the doorway.

I cleared my throat. “Everything’s all set.”

It was my job to make sure the sound and lights were properly arranged for the performers in the small club. Of course, he was my favorite. He played bigger venues with his band, but he often came in solo to try out new songs. Over the time I’d worked there, we’d become friends—enough for me to know he was well and truly taken. Much to my everlasting disappointment.

He smiled and my silly heart skipped a few beats. “Thanks.”

The message had been delivered. I should have left and let him continue warming up before his set. But I didn’t. Instead, I took a step closer just inside the doorway. “Is that a new song?”

“Nah, I’ve been working on it for a while.”

“Well, it’s amazing.”

“Really?” He huffed a harsh laugh. “My ex hated it?”

What was that? “Ex? You broke up?”

“Yeah, she cheated on me with some guy she works with.”

“What a stupid, stupid woman!” Realizing I said that out loud, my cheeks flushed with heat.

He grinned. “You think?”

“I’m sure lots of women fantasize about being with a guy like you.”

His expression turned speculative. “Do you?”

“Every freakin’ night.” Apparently, I’d lost complete control of my mouth.

I basked in the heat flaring in his eyes. “What do you fantasize about?”

My heart pounding, I came into the small room and closed the door behind me. I’d already come that far; I might as well take my chance, right?

“It usually starts with your music.”

He frowned. “My music?”

“You have a very sexy voice.” I got all hot and bothered just thinking about my secret bedtime ritual. “That song about the girl with the evergreen eyes really turns me on.”

The corner of his mouth curved up. “Does it really?”

“It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever written.”

“It’s about you.”

His words nearly brought me to my knees, but then doubt made me sensible. “You don’t have to say that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Silent angel with a body made for sin?”

Suddenly that line took on a whole new meaning. My name was Angela, I had green eyes, and I was usually very quiet—despite my earlier behavior. I looked down at my curvy figure, which was on full display. Normally shy and self-conscious, I tended to hide it beneath baggy T-shirts and jeans.

However, that night, I decided to wear a red blouse that showed lots of cleavage and a form-fitting black skirt. I was even wearing heels for God’s sake—chunky ones I could actually walk in, but still. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why I was dressed like that.

“Oh,” was my brilliant response.

“Yeah.”

For a long moment we just stared at each other, the sexual tension electrifying the air between us. His burning blue gaze was an accelerant on my smoldering libido. Fiery need surged through my veins, intensifying the ache in my sex. I could already feel my liquid desire soaking through the ridiculous scrap of lace I wore underneath my skirt.

Finally, he asked, “What’s your favorite part?”

I didn’t need to think about it. “I love the part about consecrating her flesh with your love. It was a clever allusion to coming on her skin.”

He shifted in his seat. “Did that make you hot?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Would you let a guy do that to you.”

“Not just any guy.”

He swallowed. “Would you let me come on you?”

“I’d bathe in your come if you let me.”

He groaned. “Did you touch yourself while you listened to that song?”

“God yes.”

“Show me.”

He’d always been such a reserved, amiable guy. Him being demanding was unexpected and hot. I was going to self-combust if I didn’t get myself off right then and there.

Still, I wasn’t above teasing him a little. “I need some music. To get in the mood.”

“There is no way I can focus on making music while you play with your cunt.”

Damn, I loved vulgar language—and hearing it from his sexy mouth made my inner muscles tighten deliciously. Amazingly, my brain was still functioning and I had a solution. “Is the song on your phone.”

His eyes lit up. “Yes!”

He quickly put his guitar down and grabbed his phone. As I sauntered to the chair across from him, he started the song and placed the phone on the coffee table. When I heard the acoustic intro, I started to reach up under my skirt to take off my drenched panties.

“The top first,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ve been dying to see your tits.”

Grinning, I obeyed his wicked command. One button at a time, I unfastened the blouse and pulled it free of my skirt. My self-consciousness seemed to evaporate under his ardent gaze. I pushed the blouse open, revealing my generous tits barely concealed by black lace.

“The bra too.”

Luckily, it had a front clasp. So, with a flick of my wrist, I bared my tits to his hungry eyes.

“Christ. You don’t know how many nights I fantasized about those beauties.”

“Did you stroke your cock while thinking about my tits?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“I’d love to see that.”

“You first.”

That was all the motivation I needed to be more daring than I ever had before. I swiftly slipped off my panties and got situated on the chair. Spreading my legs wide apart, I lifted one leg up over the arm of the chair. My skirt slid up around my waist so my bare cunt was clearly visible.

“Fuck.” He tugged on his blatant erection through his jeans.

As his seductive music washed over me, I trailed my fingers over my slick cunt lips. I’d shaved myself completely bare a few years before out of curiosity. I enjoyed the heightened sensitivity so much that I stayed hairless. I was so aroused that my own touch sent a shiver of pleasure racing through my body. Moaning, I closed my eyes as I arched against my fingers.

His loud groan made me open my eyes again. He’d opened his jeans and freed his cock—much to my voyeuristic delight. As I found my swollen clit, he wrapped his strong hand around his shaft and stroked up his hard length.

The sight was so fucking hot, I almost came, but I held off. I wanted to prolong this naughtiness for as long as possible. Although, as worked up as I was, it wouldn’t take much more for me to come.

I circled my clit while my other hand played with a breast, teasing and pinching my taut fat nipple. As I fingered myself hard and fast, his stroking matched my rhythm. Hearing his voice singing while watching him jack off was a wicked dream come true. I was in sensory overload.

The waves of bliss got stronger and stronger until I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m going to fucking come.”

“Come for me, dirty girl!”

I let go and a powerful orgasm tore through me. My strangled cries echoing in the small room, I eased up on my clit as one jolt of pleasure after another rocked my body.

I was still quivering from the aftershocks when he said, “I want to come on your tits.”

“Yes. Please.”

He didn’t waste any time getting up and moving to stand over me. While he jerked his cock in violent-looking strokes, I lightly rubbed my over-sensitive cunt. If I hadn’t already come, the erotic sight he presented would have certainly pushed me over the edge.

“Fuck!” With a few low grunts, he shot his thick pearly come all over my tits.

I couldn’t resist dragging my fingers through the milky ropes and painting my nipples with my messy fingers.

“That’s so fucking hot.”

“Mmmmm, yeah.”

“Leave my come on your tits for the rest of the night.”

I grinned up at him. “Yes, sir.”

After we’d gotten ourselves presentable, I followed him out to the stage. I was so absorbed watching the way his ass moved in his jeans that I didn’t notice him stop short and plowed into his back.

“Fucking hell!”

“Sorry!”

“Not you.” He turned to face me. “My ex is out there. With two of her obnoxious friends.”

“What? Why?”

“To fuck with me.”

That pissed me off. But thankfully, I was more the devious type than the cause-a-scene type. “See that reserved table right up front?”

He looked where I was pointing. “Yeah.”

“That’s for me. Don’t look in her direction at all. Keep your eyes on me and remember one thing.”

“What?”

I leaned up and grazed his earlobe with my teeth. “Your come is all over my tits.”

I don’t think he’d ever had a more passionate performance.

  



12 comments:

  1. Oh, this is so hot!! I love a sexy musician, too ��

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  2. Musicians are the sexiest of the sexy.

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    Replies
    1. Ain't that the truth! Thanks for commenting! ;)

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  3. I love it when you write about guitar playing men - and this one can sing - and my musicians at home like to come on my tits too lol x

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    1. Thank you! Hmmm, I never realized there was a correlation between the two things. :D

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  4. Hot damn, I really like this. The visual of them masturbating together is just WOW!

    Rebel xox

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  5. And I think I've melted that was so hot!

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