A wee bit of fiction inspired by one of Alison Tyler's contests:
I stood in the corner of the club, hidden by smoky shadows and watching Jake as he prowled around the stage. For those few hours, he belonged to the crowd, but after the show—he was mine. That knowledge made it easier to absorb the sight of him singing to and flirting with big-breasted blondes. Those girls thought they had what he wanted, but they couldn’t be more wrong.
Jake wasn’t one for the quick backstage blowjob. The other guys in the band, however, were only too happy to accept these tokens of admiration. And I can hardly blame them. I wouldn’t have turned them down either. No, what my Jake wanted was entirely different.
After the final encore and the bartender’s shout of last call, I took Jake by the hand, leaving his smirking bandmates in our wake. By then they knew the score. They knew what I wanted—and what he needed.
We weaved our way through the crowd and headed out the back door to the club, where we stood in a trash-filled alley which was half-illuminated by moonlight. I shoved Jake up against the brick wall, and he gasped as I tore open his leather pants to reveal the black satin panties that he always wore during his gigs.
I dropped to my knees, mouthing his hard cock through the satin and inhaling the earthy scent of leather and sweat. Jake looked down at me, his wide brown eyes seeming even more pronounced from the eyeliner and mascara that he’d donned for his show. His breath came in irregular gasps as I teased his dick through that slick barrier, not really offering him any relief, but simply making his cock swell and his hunger grow.
I stood and looked him in the eyes—thanks to my four-inch heels we were nearly the same height. I pushed down on his shoulders, and he immediately dropped to his knees. “You know what to do,” I told him, and he wordlessly unzipped my pants. With shaking hands, he parted the denim and pulled out what he’d been waiting for all night: the purple dildo that I’d strapped on before I dressed for the night.
I placed my hands on his faux-hawk, tugging his gel-stiffened hair to bring his face closer to my dick. He eagerly opened his lips and slowly took me in. I rocked my hips back and forth, slowly feeding him more with each thrust and enjoying the sensation of the toy’s base hitting my swollen clit. I was tempted to let him take me all the way as he knelt in the dirt amid the cigarette butts and crushed beer cans, but I had a better plan.
When Jake had gotten the toy slick enough with his own saliva, I pulled him up and made him face the wall, so I could pull his leather pants and satin panties down to his knees. I spit onto my fingers and brought them between his cheeks, teasing his rear hole and making him groan as I stretched him out. When he seemed ready, I slipped the toy between his cheeks and eased it inside his back hole. Jake let out a slow, wordless moan as I penetrated him. As soon as he was used to the sensation, I started fucking him fast and hard. I’d already arranged for the bouncer to ensure that we had total privacy, but Jake didn’t know that. I knew in the back of his head, he was worried one of his groupies might sneak out back for a smoke and see me drilling him from behind. And I knew that fear was turning him on.
The toy was pushing deliciously up against my clit with each inward thrust. I wanted Jake to come as hard as I was going to, so I reached around and started stroking him in time with my bucking hips. I won the race, coming first with a shout, and he soon followed me, decorating the trash at his feet with his release.
After we straightened our clothes, Jake turned around and looked at me. His eye makeup was smeared and a single tear trailed down his cheek, but he had a sublime smile on his face.
I knew right away—that night was in our own personal top ten.