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For My Art

For My Art

There’d been pacing, self-doubt, and the usual butterflies in her stomach. She had painted on her bright, fiery red lipstick, applying the last of her mask that was Miss Carmine. She regarded herself in the mirror.

The new club owner was going to be in the audience tonight and she needed to perform her best. With that thought spiralling, the battle commenced.

“You can get that new lighting guy for sure,” she thought. “He’s young, new to the business. Just a few words in his ear about the benefits of being 'close' with the star of the show… Tonight is important, so I have reason to do it.”

And so, Miss Carmine found herself with the young, nameless man buried between her legs. His tongue lapped at her silken folds and teased at her swollen little bud. Her hands gripped the dressing table and her head tipped back, resting against the mirror with its surrounding bright lights.

“Oh fuck, that’s it. Suck it, just like that,” she commanded, as her long scarlet nails gripped his scalp, pulling him harder against her dripping nook.

His tongue probed at her entrance, before he immersed his muscle into her saturated tunnel. The walls of her most intimate chamber clasped around his intrusion; never wanting it to withdraw and leave.

The pleasure she was receiving was her drug. The feelings of pure salacious desire that rushed her system from a tongues pleasure made her feel alive. Every nerve ending in her body was firing and wave after wave of tingling bliss surged her system, taking over and rendering anything else in the world insignificant.

She was on the edge of reaching her goal, so close that not even the knocking on her door could stop what was upon her. “Five minutes until curtain up, Miss Carmine,” said the voice from behind the door.

“Yes! Yes!” she cried, as she came from the technician's furious tongued attentions, signalling her climax and also answering the deputy stage manager in one.

With the effects of her orgasm still rippling around her body, her mind had already started to calculate if she had time for what came next, or who came next, as was the case in her situation.

“Curtain up in five, two acts before my first number… that gives me just over fifteen minutes to suck this cock dry, reapply my lipstick and straighten myself out,” she thought.

Her mind was made up and when Carmine Jacobson’s mind was made up, neither hell nor high water could stop her from reaching her goal. She pulled the fretful, wet-faced man into position and silenced his discourse over time when her hands freed his rigid dick.

Her warm, pink tongue slivered its way up his entire length, wetting and readying his cock for her oral advance. She looked up to his face, needing to see his expression as her crimsons lips enveloped his hot meat.

Her cheeks became concave, as her suction increased. She took him deep into her watering mouth, sucking and sliding over his shaft, before she lavished attention to his crown with her tongue. Guttural moans escaped from his lips, signalling his delight and acknowledgement of her skill.

His hips rocked his solid length deeper into the hollow of her throat, and not even the sounds of applause drifting through the walls of the dressing room from the auditorium could stop his thrusting ways.

She tried to keep her mind on the job in hand, or mouth as it were, but her thoughts flashed to a place she didn’t want to go.

“My name's Carmine Jacobson and I’m a sex addict.” She shook her head to clear the thoughts of group and councillors out of her mind. She needed her elixir. She needed to have that post orgasmic haze, to feel that viscous cum coat her throat. She needed to have that salty taste engulf her mouth. She always gave her best performances with that post-oral husky sound to her voice.

Between her thoughts and the sounds of her sopping suction, she heard him spout his lust filled confession, “Oh fuck. I took this job because I saw you in a show and wanted you. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that my fantasy would come true. And now we can be together every evening and I can give you the pleasure you deserve. Oh fuck, you look even more beautiful with my cock buried deep.”

She could tell he was on the edge and soon she would get what she desired. She wasn’t concerned about his outpouring. She knew that after tonight he would no longer be employed, the stage manager would be furious that he’d missed curtain up.

His body tensed and she sucked him harder, taking him deeper into her throat, not wanting any of his precious cum to be wasted. She needed it down her throat. Her mouth sucked, squeezed and massaged his manhood, until he released his hot load.

She drank down his creamy gift and basked in glory at achieving her goal. A wash of warm relief draped over her worries and she knew she would be able to perform to her best. The guilt of losing the battle to her addiction would come later, but for now she could go on with the show.


“Ladies and gentlemen, the Paradise Burlesque Lounge proudly presents the exquisite voice and boobalicious delights of Miss Carmine!”

Carmine could hear the crowd behind the thick stage curtains go wild. She knew in a second the lights would be on her. All eyes in the room would be fixed on her. The band started and the music played. The curtain rose.

There was no doubt that later she would regret her oral delights and failure with addiction, but as the first seductive notes passed from her lips, she had no problem in allowing herself to believe that it was acceptable to think, “I did it, for my art.”

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.

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