My Love is Music.

Something about a really great musician that gets my blood pumping faster than a speeding locomotive. Especially when he is a player that puts more passion into a guitar solo than most bands do in an entire album. It’s difficult to fully perform something that you care about with your eyes open. If your eyes are open while you wail on that rosewood fretboard, you aren’t playing as hard as you can. Watch a Jimmy Hendrix video and tell me if his eyes are open.

When I saw him on stage, the lights were completely out. A hush fell over the crowd and a few notes were plucked with nimble fingers on dirty steel strings that were played to the right place for maximum sound. Goosebumps completely ran over my body. They all rushed to the top of my skin, trying to get closer to the sound like they wanted to rush the stage and get in front of everyone. The first note from his mouth was a slow, high cry. Soothing at first but then his vocal chords opened and they let more sound flow through.

Then a single light shined on the majestic maestro. Lone soul baring his before the world.

What he does to me when he plays is better than what the most skilled lover can do to my body when we twist between the sheets. The song picks up and more notes fill my ears, traveling over my senses and igniting each one with a new sensation. Notes play on my body like fingertips, traveling inside and out, feeling for the perfect place to call home. My hands by my sides can’t sit still and want to reach out to grab each note he is singing. I let my fingertips travel over my hips, my ribs, the sides of my breasts until they tangle in my hair and move with my head, tossing side to side and keeping beat. That beat. It fills my bloodstream and skips my heart, making it pump with a tempo his inspirational flow.

Throw your hands to the sky.

My hips move back and forth, pulsing with the beat and twisting with the tone. He makes my body vibrate and move in a way that I can’t stop. I long for the dark corners of the venue to pull my clothes aside and be pure and naked, feel each note over my body like I can feel it twisting my soul.

The next melody starts and it’s faster, deeper and stronger than the last. My body takes it inside and moves with the flow. Tingles are racing through the air from his fingertips and touching my skin, under the cloth covering everything I want to expose. I will his fingers to leave the instrument and touch me, traveling callused and worn skin over the softness of my stomach. Calluses built from years of musical interpretation of emotions and art. This man has created more than music. He has created life with his art. I wanted to experience that.

The bass beat of the single drum cadence was thumping into my chest, hitting me hard from the speakers and I felt the tingling in my pussy with each sonic hit. The music was stroking my wet flesh with each tap of his foot on the pedal. I moved my hit as if a finger was pressing onto my clit with each beat. The melody picked up and the strokes came faster and faster. My body responded in kind and my hands once more tangled in my hair. The amazing feeling of sound waves flowing through me was making my legs shake and my breathe come faster.

And now… his solo.

The strings on his guitar was puppet strings and he controlled them like a master, dancing the melody to reach my skin. The notes were an enigma of a pattern but each one hit me so hard and fast, making me drench my panties and bite my lip. I wanted to feel those fingers moving so fast and sure. I imagined those fingers touching me and dipping between my legs and finding the proof of my desire for his talent.

Over the solo, the drum beat continued. Pound. Pound. Pound of the pedal on the head. I couldn’t take it anymore, my body burst with passionate flames, fire exploding inside me with the climax of the song triggering my own until I was shaking and crying out for more.

More! Play on!!

I need an encore more than my next breath.

Play for me??

One Response to “My Love is Music.”

  1. Yes! That is exactly what it feels like. The music is the aphrodisiac, and when you’re watching him, you can only hope he tends to you with the same passion he tends to his muse.

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