Tom Martin 6 - The Maestro (Softcore)

It's nights like this when I wonder why I should even bother? Here I am approaching forty, singing the same damn songs to an ever-nodding audience who probably wouldn't buy any CDs if I was selling any. Most of them will fuck off by the time I'm done anyway. Whatever. I'm getting paid and 'exposure', for all that's worth.

After my performance, I pack up and head to the bar for a much-needed drink. As the bartender tends to another patron, I feel someone loom over me. Turning, I see a towering hunk who appears to be half my age, with flowing blonde hair, and a cocky smile. Guess he's looking for an easy lay.

“Could I buy you a drink?” He says.

I shrug. “Sure, anyone can buy me a drink.”

The kid sits down next to me. “Great performance by the way.”

“Thanks.”

The bartender comes over, so the hunk asks me what my poison is. I tell him soda, as I have to drive. When the bartender comes over, he orders a soda and a beer for himself, before he introduces himself “I'm Tom.”

“Diane.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“You too.”

“So, you do this often?”

“Yeah. I've been performing my whole life.”

“That's really cool.”

“What about you, do you play?”

“No, I'm not that musically inclined to be honest.”

“Well, you're here, so you must know something about good music.”

He gives my bad joke a sympathetic chuckle “You doing much tonight?”

“Not really.”

“Well, why don't we hang out?"

My face falls into a befuddled expression. "Aren't I a bit old?"

"Tell you the truth, I like older women-"

Fuck it. If he wants me, he wants me. No questions, no doubts. I just pull him in for a deep, passionate kiss, jamming my tongue down his throat. Everyone can see me, but I don't care. Tom wants me and I want him. Eventually, our lips part, allowing me to say "My place good?"

"Sure is."

He follows me to my van where he starts to pat my thigh, further illustrating his intentions. God, I've needed someone's touch. His hand the glides back and forth, to an almost distracting level. I've gotta get back home. Even with my heavy foot turning the five-minute drive into a three-minute one, the drive still feels way too long.

At my place, I lead Tommy to the bedroom. Once there, I expose myself with all its imperfections. He doesn't seem to care. He just picks me up and places me on my bed, where we exchange touches and kisses. Then he starts moving down my body, and I know exactly where he's going. Just as I'd thought, stops once he's between my legs, causing my body to tingle. With his fingers and tongue, he plays my body like a maestro plays his favorite instrument. Soon enough my body's song of pleasure ends body shaking bliss.

As I catch my breath, Tom throws his shirt off, and then pulls his manhood out. A moment later, and I'm welcoming his entrance with a passionate moan. It's not long before into a rhythm that again gets my body singing with pleasure. In that moment, we're in harmony, building to a crescendo that leaves us both breathless, yet waiting for more.

Once I catch my breath, I say "Wow... Tommy... That was incredible."

"Who said it has to be over?"

"Nobody."

To be honest, I'm all for an encore. No man has made my body sing like that in years, so I'm all four one more song. Our lips meet for a few kisses, and as soon as he is ready, I feel him inside of me once more. His motions have me and my body singing along towards crescendo. It doesn't matter in what way we play, he always finds away to get me to that blissful crescendo. The only thing that can stop him is his own crescendo, which leaves my maestro completely spent.

Laying next to me, he says "Could I stay the night?"

"I'd say you've earnt that... maybe more..." I pant, as breathless as he is.