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The Star

So, you’re a star
On the road 
Name in lights
Face on billboards
Obscene amounts
of money
You can have
almost anything.
And anyone.

Tonight’s show is over
Or beginning.

Backstage, you stride
into the crowded room
High on adulation
superstar adrenaline junkie.
At the stage door
girls jiggle in line
Meanwhile, you snort one.
Bourbon lubricates
a raw throat.
Touring can be rough.

Soon, you undress,
slip on a robe,
nod at Melanie, 
she knows you so well.
Dutiful assistant,
she goes off to 
find tonight's prize.
Doesn’t take long.
Cowgirl boots,
pelmet skirt,
shirt tied
at the navel
cradling big

Ply her with wine
straight from the bottle.
Toke on this.
Strip… set those
bouncers free.
Your fingers
which strum chords
pick strings
work frets
prepare to play
an altogether
different tune.

Clear the room?
No. This is a show,
a performance, and
you’re the star.

Pink rosebuds
harden to your touch.
Her head nestles
into your shoulder.
She sighs, twitches,
parts thighs.
Fingers probe,
open her
like a flower.
Pinch the clit,
caress it, roll it,
breach her entrance
hear the squelch.
Oh yes. Smile.

Placed on the couch
she undulates,
hips rising,
frantically rubbing
her slit,
wanting you
needing to please
The Star

The raucous crowd circles
A show not to be missed.

The tongue that
la-la-las in warm up
now laps and licks
prods and pokes,
tastes fresh juice.
Oh, such sweet sap.
Pliant thighs
tremble, quiver,
her head rolls
side to side,
on the edge,
on the brink.
Moaning, groaning —
not yet.
You’re the star
in control,
always centre stage.

You straddle her chest
fondle her meaty tits.
You teasingly begin 
to open your robe,
like an unveiling.
She sighs, watches,
licks her lips,
desperate to see
The Star’s cock.
It appears,
flopping in your palm.
It’s thick and long, 
rapidly growing.
The hubbub
swells as
you lay it between
her orbs
and tit fuck.

She does, tasting
lapping around 
the swollen dome.
She leans and
gorges on the head.
It fills her mouth,
she struggles.
Too big. Too much.
Grinning, you slide
down her hot body,
rest your rigid tool
on her pubis.
Please! Her eyes plead
Let me have it.
you drum your erection
against her mound.
The crowd draws breath
as one — and wait.

You drive home,
no finesse
You’re the star
she’s lucky to have you.
She responds, bucking
and writhing, enjoying
the limelight.
The crowd howl,
you pound
to the rhythm of their cries.
Long powerful strokes,
your shaft glistens
reddens, expands.
The chosen one
thrashes her arms
in delirious
She squeals, screams,
seemingly insatiable,
thriving on the
magnificence of 
your power.

With a grunt
a bellow,
you slide out.
Stroking your length
whoops of approval
greet your eruption.
Streams of cream
splash her tummy
and tits,
arcing as far as
her delighted face.

It’s a grand finale.
After all,
You’re a star.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright © J Wren 2015- 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission of the author

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