"Mmmmm hmmmm," she said through the leather, and I started stroking again, slow and sensual. I was just starting to get into it when I looked out at the reception, and could see Krystal take the stage. I couldn't hear the exact words of what she said in her speech, but the crowd loved it, and in the reddish orange lights of the stage, she looked sexier than I'd ever seen her. Her skin glowed in the light, and when the music hit, it shook me to the core. Why that song? Of all the Jim Steinman songs Johnathan had ever bombarded me with growing up, Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young was the one that touched me. The amps kicked up too, and I could hear Krystal start to sing the lyrics that had fed more than a few fantasies of mine as I went through my teenage years. It was by that song that I'd figured out just how wonderfully different women are from men, and it was by that song I'd even lost my virginity.
"Oooh Julian, that's it, give it to me baby," I heard Gina say as I pumped away, but in my mind I didn't see a nearly forty-year-old Gina Aksoy, but instead it was her twenty-four-year-old niece. In my mind's eye it was Krystal who was bent over for me, her youthful body and what promised to be ultra-tight pussy milking my cock. My hips sped up on their own, and soon I was slamming in and out, my mind a thousand miles away.
I could hear the lyrics continue while my mind saw Krystal dressed all in whites and pale blues, an almost black haired, black eyed angel who opened her arms to me and clasped me to her chest, not in fake lust or wanton need of fucking but to comfort me. In her arms I felt something I'd never felt from anyone ever before, a total acceptance of who I am.
"We're dancing for the restless and the broken hearted . . ." she said to me, kissing my face, which were suddenly wet with tears. In my vision, her dress disappeared, and I was almost stunned by the beauty before me, not just because of its flawless shape but because of its simple nobility. Slipping inside, my cock almost twitched immediately in warning of orgasm, but I was helpless to stop myself. I plunged into this angel in front of me over and over, my lips crying out in wordless need as I neared an orgasm that, somewhere deep inside me, I knew would somehow change me forever. It frightened me, knowing I would be forced to change. If I came inside this angel, I'd have to let go of all the mental armor, all the fronts and the anger I'd felt for so long. Still, I couldn't stop, and it was with a deep moan, down in my soul in a place that I'd not been for a very long time, I felt my orgasm tear out of me, ripping through my body as my cock burst inside the angel, the energy sending white tendrils through me and obliterating all my thoughts and nestling somewhere in my heart before fading away.
It was long moments after my vision stopped that I realized that the music had faded away too, with Meat Loaf back on the microphone. Staggering, I pulled back and out, my cock slipping out of her with an almost obscene schluuuurp. "My God," I gasped, feeling the sweat glistening on my brow. "That . . . ."
"That was the best I've had in years," Gina said back to me, turning and giving me a naughty smile. "God damn Julian, you are one talented fuck. But I think it's time for us to get back to the reception before they wonder where we slipped off to."
"Uh . . . yeah," I said, still with my mind whirling. What the hell had just happened? "That was amazing."
"Thanks, sweetie," Gina said, coming over and kissing me. She reached down and grabbed my cock "that's one nice piece of equipment you have there," then she sashayed over to her dress and pulled it back on, before coming over and actually lifting my pants up for me. Carefully working the zipper back up before sliding the fastener, she reached into my pocket and pulled out her panties.
"Now now, if you want a souvenir you have to ask for it," she giggled as she stepped into the bathroom to clean up. I could tell she wanted me to say something in reply to her slutty banter, but my mind was still too staggered to really formulate anything. "Well, if you ever want to get together again, call me," she said. When she was done, she came over and slipped a piece of paper with her number on it into my pocket in place of her panties. "Seriously, if you're ever in Detroit, give me a call."
With a quick peck on my lips, she turned and got her high heels, leaving me still standing there. I staggered over to the same lounge chair I'd just finished fucking her in and sat down, still perplexed. What the hell had just happened?
Chapter 7
Krystal - About five weeks later
"Your secret ingredient is . . . ribs!"
I looked over at Shannon, whose face narrowed as she slipped into her mental space that I knew she went to whenever she was mentally game-planning. We were in a borrowed kitchen to simulate the fact that we'd be cooking in an unfamiliar space, and we were in the three-minute planning period that the producers had told Shannon would be given to her before her time actually started. Of course, due to the magic of television editing, that three minutes would look like about ten seconds, but it heightened the drama that way. The guy acting as official timekeeper, the owner of the private cooking school we were using for this practice, tapped his desk as one minute of the time passed. Two minutes left.