The Music Store

Four minutes after the local music store supposedly closes,
I push against the closing door,
A plead for the owner to let me in for a few minutes more,
Drilled in my head, hovering on my lips,
In search for Goodie Mobb's Soul Food,
The desperation and anticipation of holding it physically,
A fire seeking a put out.
Squeezing through as the gap closes,
Silently rejoicing for the Indiana Jones slide move,
Taking a slight pause for air to re-enter my body,
I turn, and soon wish I hadn't.
If not for the slightly-tight wife-beater,
The grey baggy Bonds sweats hugging his lower half,
I would've thought he got lost on his way to a model shoot.
In that instant, the blush had risen dramatically,
Thoughts of pulling down the baggy sweats swimming,
The lust still hovering from afternoon tea,
Spent at home, behind closed curtains, underneath the sheets,
Watching videos enough to send a heart into a frenzy,
Eyes into a flutter, words into a stutter,
And the power to offer a trip through cloud nine.
The intense look he was giving me at that moment,
Helped as much as a worn out tire,
The pot of lust was re-lit once more.
In that instance, I felt sorry not for my safety, but his.

He had an alluring, rugged look which was enough to wake downstairs,

Lips full, eyes mysterious, sculptured brown body.
Bulky arms with one decorated in a tribal tattoo peeked out from his wife-beater,
Luring my inner wild to delicately touch,
And if needed, a bite and a lick.
I cared not for the way I openly feasted on his features,
The amount of seduction and passion that oozed from him,
Creating a foreign feeling, creating havoc in one's insides,
Devilish whispers to seduce and to eat,
To know the taste of his essence as I drank.
He stands there with amusement written all over his features,
Smirking as he leans against the closed door,
Probably knowing the dirty thoughts that stabbed within,
Pool becoming a pond.

To rid thoughts of bending down on my knees in front of him,
I walk towards the other side of the store,
Distracting myself by browsing through the album lists,
Noticing him lingering close.
“Anything in particular?”, he says huskily as he stands,
And I embarrassingly groan as I hear the sexiness his voice projects,
Already imagining his bedroom talk would be,
Whispering my name as his lips trace paths on my inner thighs.
“Goodie Mobb”, I whisper, before repeating it clearer.
I would no doubt be considered an idiot,
If I didn't notice the way his eyes roamed my body approvingly,
Intense as they lingered on my short skirt,
Eyes trained on the mile-long legs I had fortunately inherited from mother.
I didn't miss the way his eyes grew even darker,
Or the emerging bulge behind the sweats,
My lips his stare's prime target.

He leads me towards the back store room,
Smirking lightly as he feels my gaze on him.
Adding a little sexiness to his walk,
Smiling as he hears the tiny sigh I accidentally lets out,
Knowing full well my brown orbs,
Are fixed perfectly on his delicious behind.
After a few minutes of asking questions,
'What type of music are you after?”,
“Who is your favourite artist”,
“Have you heard ATCQ's Electric Relaxation?”,
To which I hesitantly said no,
The back store room was his promise of better music.
“You okay?” he turns to look behind her,
Noticing the way her tongue flicks between her lips,
Eyes newly trained on the bulk of his shoulders.
“Indeed I am”, I reply softly, holding his gaze.
He just smiles, the seductive smile on his features,
Calling, beckoning the wild beast even further.
“You'll like their song”, he says,
heading towards a stack of CD shelves.
If I wasn't trying to hold myself from ripping his clothes off,
I would've admire the vibe the hippy-themed room gave.
If I wasn't trying to calm the hormones that let off pressure,
I would've asked how much the white sofa in the corner was,
Comfortable, fluffy, inviting.
If I wasn't standing there with a look of pure lust and heat,
He would've been on his way.
Alas, great minds think alike,
Heaven's forbid them clashing,
And in that moment, after he had finished pressing 'play',
I knew I wasn't the only one with a beast within.
The game had begun.

Stretch out your legs, let me make you bawl,
Drive you insane, drive you up the wall.

The lust within was no way as fierce as his,

Proven when he reached over and pull me against his boy,
Lips making a straight beeline towards mine.
I couldn't help the shocked gasp, neither could he reign in his beast,
Immediately taken advantage of my shock by exploring my mouth,
With his ultimate weapon.
Well...one.
His tongue in my mouth sent me into a lust-filled frenzy,
Our tongues battling for dominance, arms battling for first place position,
Who Can Strip The Other The Fastest?
I take my tongue out from exploring his mouth,
Choosing to bite his lower lip as my hands weave through his hair,
Newly exposed breasts pressed against his naked chest,
His hands pushing them high, inviting him for a taste-test.
He groans, which in turn makes me moan from the sound,
Loving the way his rough hands feel delicately roaming the hardened lumps,
Closing my eyes when I feel his fingers circling my sensitive nipples.
“I bet you taste like melon”, he says when I finish sucking his bottom lip,
Eyes trained solely on the perky objects in his hands.
“See for yourself”, I whisper desperately,
Even using my hands to push his head down to take one in his mouth,
But his beast plays dirty, and I fail to see his smirk with my eyes shut.
“Beg”, he places his tongue in my ear as he whispers in,
Licking inside before biting my earlobe, still circling the now rock-hard lumps.
His smirk turns even more seductive as I open my eyes with shock,
His hands pressing harder on my nipples,
Tongue now at the ready in between the valley of my breasts,
Licking sensitive skin
Causing the heat to boil to the point of a black-out.
And without any hesitation, a whispered 'Please!”, is out,
And a hardened nipple is in.

I'll have you weak in the knees that you can hardly speak,

Or we could do like Uncle L and swing an ep in my jeep,
Keep it down, yo, we keep it discrete.

The comfortable couch now turns into an interfering object,
Naked as a newborn, trying to find a comfortable position,
Impatiently waiting on it as I watch him take off those damned sweats,
Slowly, mockingly.
He sees the desperation in my eyes, the smirk still evident,
Another barrier appears when the sweats are off,
And he laughs when he hears the small huff I let out when I see his boxers,
Devil spawn!, I scream internally, when I watch him crouch in front of me,
Boxers still on.
He leans forward and kisses my lips harshly,
Which immediately settles the impatience and ignites the fire once more,
And I forget that he still has clothes on.
Gasping as I feel the sudden entry of fingers,
I guess time is of the essence,
Since he craves to have mine.
His lips do nothing to distract me from the roughness of his fingers,
And honestly, the pain is more than bearable,
Too addictive and driving one wild.
An experienced multi-tasker he is, as he sucks with his mouth,
Pumps his fingers in me with another,
Stroking my stomach with his other hand,
All while whispering sweet-nothings against my lips,
Smiling as he sees me wither underneath him with lust.
“That's a good girl”, he'd repeat with a desirable smile ,
When I'd grab his bulge while panting and moaning my way through the night.

Let me hit it from the back, girl I won't catch hermia,

Bust off on your couch, now you got Seaman's Furniture.

Q-Tip raps in the background, while we're at it full-force,
Twenty three minutes after he ravished my core with his mouth,
When he completed his taste-test.
He stands in front of me now in all his gloriousness,
Which he then teasingly brings towards my face,
And now I have the power in my hands.
The sultry smirk now on my face,
Knowing full well what would bring him to beg.
Unfortunately for me, his beast outwits my own,
And as soon as I feel the tip of his head on my lips,
Quick as can be, he bends, spreading my legs wide,
Entering hard and fast.
I don't have time to feel the shock,
Because such a move causes the lust to hit full-force.
He pumps in and out quickly,
Gripping my thighs to spread my legs wider,
Eyes passionate and clouded with animalistic lust,
Watching me look at him, eyes wide, mouth open,
Moans regularly making themselves present.

As soon as I close in on my high,
Close to the edge, the screams start coming.
I'm riding cloud nine, literally.
He groans as he feels my essence against him,
The tightness against his hardened member too much,
And before long, he starts grunting, the pace quickens,
And with a jerk, I feel it.
Sly as a fox he is, for he lets loose in my core,
Mixing our essences together,
Before pulling out and sliding his member in my mouth,
Taking advantage when I was still in the middle of a moan,
Still riding my high.
He tastes sweet, his hot and sticky juice coating my mouth,
The most memorable taste my mouth will ever come across.
I drink him all in, opening wide while he pumps my face slowly,
The beautiful smile on his features,
Spread on the couch, in the local music store.

Take you on the ave and you buy me links,

Now I wanna pound the pootang until it stinks.