Free Brando by J.D. Hawkins

she starts panting at the ceiling.
    “Wait!”
she says, snapping back, her hand
on my wrist. “I
don’t understand
what’s happening
between us, Brando. Is this about me? Or is this about music?”
    I
kneel in front of her, slowly pulling down her jeans.
    “It’s
about music,” I say,
kissing her moistening pussy through the soft cotton of her panties.
“It’s
always about music.”
    She
replies by moaning softly and grabbing the back of my head as I run
my tongue down the inside of her thigh, letting my stubble softly
tickle her pale, sensitive skin.
    I
get her panties off quickly, and run my hands around the back of her
waist, holding her still while I explore her pussy with my tongue.
The smell drives me wild, stirring the animal in me like a dormant
beast. It’s all I
can do to stop myself from sprouting fangs and roaring –
I wanna take it slow, learn
everything I can about what makes her tick.
    I
trace the tip of my tongue up each of her lips to her clit, rolling
it between my lips and sucking on it, listening to her moans and
sighs like cues from a band, playing her pussy like a classic melody
on a new instrument. I reach a hand out and press it against her
shirt, kneading her tit, her nipple hard against my palm. She grabs
my hand and holds it against her, scratching at my fingers with her
guitar-player’s
nails.
    Her
moans get higher and her scent hotter when I start to tongue-fuck
her, her thigh muscles tightening around my stubble in rhythm with
the licks. I hold off, always a little less than she feels she needs,
keeping her on the edge, stoking up the heat before the release.
    “Fuck,”
she gasps. That’s
the only word she’s
able to get out, and when she clenches my hair in her fist I know
it’s time. I work
two fingers between her wet lips, two fingers longer and harder than
most men’s cocks,
two fingers that always find the right button.
    Hitting
the perfect spot is easy, and Haley’s
body throbs and hums under my hands like an orchestra, a musician in
everything she does. Moans and purrs from the depth of her soul guide
me there, the song reaching its high-pitched crescendo when she
starts moaning ‘Yes’
at the ceiling. Again and again,
drawing out the word until it becomes a sigh, a fade-out. My work
here is done.
    I
stand up in front of her as she struggles to get her breath back. She
watches with a knowing smile as I lick the taste of her off my lower
lip, and then smooth out my shirt.
    The
post-glow lightness is broken by the sound of a door shutting in the
house. Haley roughly pulls her panties and jeans up before smoothing
out her hair in the vague reflection of the partition glass.
    “I
was thinking,” Josh
starts saying, before he’s
even entered the studio, “maybe
we should try another song?”
    Haley
and I turn and look at Josh, wondering if we left any evidence. I
notice Josh’s eyes
dart quickly to my hair, and I run my hand through it casually.
    “No,”
I say, glancing at Haley and
realizing just how big and round and beautiful her eyes are when
she’s scared, “I’ve
got a feeling things will go a little better this time.”
    “Okay,”
Josh shrugs as he takes his seat
again. I smile at Haley as she leaves to go back to the studio, then
sit beside Josh again.
    “I’ve
known a lot of musicians who couldn’t
hack it in a studio,” Josh
says, once she leaves the room. “Good
ones. Great ones. But they just couldn’t
play without the right audience, feeding off the energy of a crowd.”
    Through
the glass I watch Haley sit on the stool again, put on the
headphones, and pick up her guitar. Just as I’d
hoped, something is different now. The smart, sarcastic shine in her
eye, the calm earthiness of her movements. She looks like a girl who
can take on the world again.
    “Can
you hear me over there?” she
asks.
    Josh
pushes the button. “Perfectly.
Ready when you are. I got a good feeling about this one.”
    “Me
too,” Haley says,
and I can tell she means