Obsession

She would never know what possessed her to behave the way she did that night. She remembered sitting in the audience, in the front row, listening to him singing. He was no rock star or pop idol, but a star of the stage with a resonant baritone. He held the audience, and her, in the palm of his hands as he sang an eclectic mix of the more intelligent songs from the shows, and a few songs that had been written especially for him.

The stage was such that the audience sat around him, close enough almost to touch him, but too polite to do so. God how she wanted to touch him, especially when he removed his jacket to reveal strong muscles beneath a clean, white shirt, with only the hint of the hairs on his chest peeking out from the open collar. There was nothing showbizzy about this man. He was modest, charming, intelligent and ... sexy as hell. Once or twice she was sure that he caught her eye, such as when he sang an intimate version of Some Enchanted Evening, and got to the last line 'once you have found nev never let her go'. His eyes met hers for a moment. She pushed the thought aside. He probably couldn't see her sitting there, next to an empty seat.

Her date had stood her up, and it had been with some trepidation that she entered the auditorium alone, but she had been determined to see this show. To see him. Maybe that's what had put her date off. The thought that she would spend two hours lusting over another man. Not that she had told him that. However, if her date had pressed her, she could not have denied it. She had been dreaming about this man since seeing him in a show several years earlier. In tha had had played the role of a determined policeman, obsessed with catching his prey. As she watched him now, she began to understand some of that obsession. When she looked at his hands, she was obsessed with the thought of feeling them on her body. He licked his lips and she imagined him doing that after he had licked away the moisture that was dampening her panties at that moment.

The show ended, with a standing ovation. She looked up at him and was sure that once again he caught her eye. She was just about to make her way out of the auditorium when a man came up and whispered in her ear. She nodded and followed him, her heart ing ing fast. So the performer had noticed her after all. He wanted to meet her.

She was taken backstage through a secret door in the auditorium, and shown to the dressing room with a large star placed above his name. Her guide left her. For a second she touched the star and the name with her fingertips, then knocked the door.

"Come in."

They were the only words he spoke to her at that time. She entered the dressing room to see him sitting in the chair, facing the mirror. She saw her own reflection appear behind him. His face had been scrubbed clean of the greasepaint. He looked fresher and much younger than his years. He swivelled the chair round to face her. He was dressed only in a white robe now, his legs bare, covered only in a smattering of dark hair. His eyes were taking in every inch of her, dawdling on her full breasts and hips.

She moved slowly towards him, and knelt down before him, still not sure if he would throw her out if she did what she had been aching to do all evening. She pulled the robe apart, to find that he was completely naked beneath it. His phallus was already beginning to respond to her presence. She kissed its tip gently, then instead of taking him in her mouth, ran her tongue from one end of o tho the other, where his pubic hair curled thick and dark around the upper part of the shaft. Then her tongue worked its way back to the tip, which she caught playfully between her teeth. She felt rather than heard him laugh softly. His hands caught the back of her head, pushing her downwards so that she was forced to open her mouth and accept him. As she took him further into her mouth, she felt herself becoming more and more aroused. She longed to feel his fingers ramming into her, soothing the ache that gripped her lower belly and groin, but for now she contented herself with pleasuring him. His hips were shuddering, and he began to slip down from the chair. He caught her arms and then pulled her face up to his, kissing her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He spun her round so that she was the one sitting in the chair, and he was kneeling before her. Her groin throbbing now, she pulled her skirt back to reveal silky thighs. She was about to remove her panties when he caught them and pulled them away with one tear. She groaned partly with pleasure, partly with pain as the material scraped her labia. He arranged her knees so that they were draped over the arm of the chair, and she was fully exposed to him. Then his head dipped downwards and all she could feel was his tongue, relentlessly grinding against her labia, slipping into her, then out and upwards again. Meanwhile he used his fingers to find her clit, and began rubbing it in a circular motion, causing her body to arch and judder with excitement. She felt fluid bursting from her, releasing some, though not all of the tension she had been feeling since earlier that evening. She cried out, not caring who heard her.

She felt him move, and looked up to see him licking his lips, just as he had done on stage.

"I was thinking of you then," he said, and she wondered how he had known what she was thinking. He pulled her up out of the chair, and spun it round so that the back of the chair was nearest to them. Then, he bent her over it, lifting her skirt to reveal her buttocks. She felt his fingers beginning to work her again, slipping deep into her, where they became firm, rigorously rubbing her mound. His other hand reached around her and began to squeeze one of her breasts through the soft fabric of her blouse. Impatiently, he tore at her blouse, and her bra, until one breast was also exposed, and he could pinch the nipple between his fingers. She began to whimper as his fingers, one inside her, and one on her breast, mercilessly dug into her. The pain and pleasure was exquisite to her and she writhed and groaned at his comm


She felt his fingers spread her labia open wide, then his smooth but solid shaft entered her. His hands were on her buttocks now, his nails digging into them, and she flailed a little, trying to get her balance on the chair. Finally, her hands found the arms, and she was able to steady herself against his thrusts, and use the arms to push herself backwards against him, to meet him thrust for thrust. was was aware that she was wetter than she had ever been, as he slipped in and out of her so easily. She was reluctant to lose him again, so she tightened her pubic muscles. At that he swore and laughed, as she clenched his shaft inside her. He punished her for inflicting pain on him by thrusting at her even harder, and it became a playful battle between them as to who could win this tug of war.

Then he suddenly pulled away, and dragged her up from the chair. There was a coach on one side of the dressing room. He threw her down onto that, pinning her arms above her head, as he forced her legs apart with one of his knees, and rammed into her with a force that made her scream out his name.

As he moved his hips from side to side, she lost all sense of where one orgasm ending and another one began. Her head spun. She forgot her own name. Finally, she felt one almighty explosion in her groin which shocked him into coming too. They shuddered against each other, their mouths meeting for one last kiss as they groaned out their release.

She lay back with her eyes closed, his head against her neck.

"Miss...?"

"Mmm," she murmured.

"Miss? The theatre is closing. You'll have to leave."

She looked around her to see that she was still sitting in her seat in the auditorium. The show was over. The star was long gone, and she must have dozed off and dreamed about him. But a d a dream it had been. If only it could come true.