Trombone

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I watched her, the woman with the trombone, who played with such panache and added gravitas to the mood of swing in the songs. She accompanied the gravel voiced singer who sang with passion but needed carriage to project himself. She seemed to know of her uncommon importance and with aplomb she played. Timing is everything and she knew she had it. One song after another, she invoked a call to move, sensuous and with grace. Then the music stopped, the band had a break and I watched her as she sat and watched those around her, as they talked, bought drinks, laughed, went to the toilet and shared the moment.

Then the band came on again and she didn’t join them. The mood of the music was lighter, suffused with tintinnabulations that were light and flippant. The mood was lost, there was no galvanizing unity to the music and the crowd was lost to mayhem. She continued to sit, concentrating on the rhythm of the music, her foot tapping but her mind seemed elsewhere. She pulled her shirt at the bottom and at the same time thrust her chest forward so that her breasts were more prominent and her cleavage more tempting. Yet no one went to her, she sat alone.

I wondered about her, what was she like? Was her voice soft and sensuous or loud and confident? Somehow I thought she must be confident, but loud- I didn’t think so. There were so many questions queued up and for some reason it seemed important to know the answers. I checked myself, zip up and shirt tucked in, I went to say hello.

“Hello!” I said. She looked up at me, quietly studying me for a moment.

“Dance?” I asked. She nodded, stood and quietly we made our way to the dance floor. It was an old fashioned waltz and we came together. She knew what she was doing, I was the shy one and as we danced our contact increased with the confidence we gained. Then rock and roll and she moved with grace, I was flattered to be her focus. The floor was almost empty, not like when she played her trombone and people jostled for space.

The bracket ended and I returned her to her table.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“You’re welcome!” I pulled a chair out for myself and sat.

“Would you like a drink?” I offered. bahis firmaları She shook her head.

“I’m driving.” I told her. For a moment we were silent.

“You dance well!” she complimented me.

“Thank you, you do too and you play the trombone beautifully.”

“Oh! You know what it is!” She was delighted. “The band is experimenting,” she told me, “I’m new to it and we’re gathering repertoire. Do you think the experiment’s a success?” she asked.

“Of course, as much as it surprises it works very well and you play beautifully. The dance floor was full when you played.”

“You noticed that too! Good!” We laughed.

She was very engaging with brown eyes that twinkled delightfully and her hands moved rapidly to add meaning to her speech. She wasn’t shy and she wasn’t overbearing either. Somehow, she had it right.

The music started again.

“Dance?” she offered. We got up, first on the floor and started with the rock and roll, each going through the motions and postures, we watched each other with delight. Then a waltz and we came together, holding each other with tenderness which quickly evolved into the hardness of longing. Crushed against each other with her breasts moulded to my chest and our hips together, my cock gathered hardness that projected into her. Each move we made seemed to create another and we challenged each other to close the gaps between us. As we danced our legs caressed each other’s with a firm touch.

I kissed her forehead, she looked up at me and I kissed her lips which took mine in sweet embrace, her lips touched mine and our tongues met. We held each other to kiss, tasted each other and wanted more.

The music stopped again and we went back to the table. We faced each other, held hands and leant across the table, kissed more and explored each other. Under the table our legs touched. We rubbed our legs together generating heat and tingles that shot up our spines to blow warm spaces in our heads. Her long auburn hair framed her face, her cheeks glowed pink. I didn’t want to stare, I looked down and my eyes were lost in her cleavage.

She saw me, I saw her smile and with an arch of her back she thrust her breasts at kaçak iddaa me. I grinned encouragingly and she took one of her hands from mine and undid a button on her shirt. The soft roundness at the top of her breasts was revealed and I smiled as she undid another button. She smoothed her shirt away, I saw more of her cleavage and the way her breasts rested in her bra. The black bra contrasted with her pale skin and its junction between the two cups was taut with their weight. Her eyes went to my chest and I followed suit and undid two buttons, then leaned forward to kiss her and hold her hands .

Suddenly the music started again.

“Dance?” I offered. We stood and I started to walk to the dance floor. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away, we went to the exit and outside to the car park. We strangled each other’s hands as we walked towards a van. With keys from her handbag she unlocked the side door and we stooped as we climbed in. We could hear the music as it wafted from the hall and light suffused the van’s interior from a nearby street light. She pulled two sleeping bags from a corner and spread them on the floor, one on top of the other.

As we kneeled on the sleeping bags she faced me, her hand went to the remaining buttons and she asked,

“Dance?” Together we removed our shirts. I watched as she unclasped her bra and her breasts spilled out. In the half light with the heavy shadow her nipples stood like beacons above a dark symmetry of smooth roundness.

“Hurry!” she whispered as she took off her bra and started to undo her jeans. Mine were off before hers and she stared at the burgeoning flesh. Together we lay on the sleeping bags and kissed. I took her breasts and held them, fondled them, moved them round seeking their axis, touched her nipples, felt her areolas and sucked them deep into my mouth to strum with my tongue.

Her hands were busy too- they explored me, with light deft touches, she explored my cock and balls. Then wrapping a hand around she tested my cock, discovered its hardness and felt its throb. I lowered a hand and touched her as it descended, down her soft belly to the firmness of her mound. I felt the rasp of stubble and found her kaçak bahis slit, my finger went in to touch her softness, the slippery wetness, the elasticity. I found her clitoris and teased it with a circling finger. She twitched with the touch. I continued the search down her slit, divided the folds to discover her depth, the heat, the parts that are firm and ridged and those that were soft and yielded. She moaned as another finger joined the first.

The music continued, a change of song,

“Now!” she whispered and pulled my cock, urging me. I got to my knees and walked on them to straddle her and then, between her legs, with her guiding hand I thrust and entered her, another thrust and my cock went deeper. In and out, I thrust at her, her hips moved to meet mine. She was quiet with concentration. We merged our rhythms and together we fucked, hard, fast and determined. The van rocked with our rhythm. Our breathing loud, with whimpers of delight I felt the urge begin. In and out, we clutched at each other and listened to each other’s approach.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” her voice was strained, almost a shout as her hips thrust vigorously, they bucked against mine as they pulled an orgasm from her that left her to spasm. I added my part beginning with a tensed thrust and felt the rush as I came. Soon we were done, the music continued, the van stopped rocking and we lay a moment to share the euphoria. We linked fingers and leaned forward as we kissed.

Suddenly she was all motion.

“Quick! Get dressed!” she said, “It’s their last song!” We scrabbled for our clothes and raced to put them on. She gathered the sleeping bags and tossed them into the corner. The music stopped. We stepped out of the van hand in hand. She slammed the door shut and we walked to the hall, pushed our way through those who were leaving. I searched my pockets and found my card- I pressed it into her hand and as I did she pressed her card into mine.

“Please ring me!” we said as one. She dropped my hand, gave me a quick kiss and plunged on through the crowd. I watched as she pushed and eventually climbed onto the stage. She went into a wing at the side and quickly emerged with her trombone case. The other band members were engrossed with their tasks of packing. I saw her look for me, she blew a kiss and waved. She obviously couldn’t see me. I watched as she packed her trombone away, picked it up and exited left stage.

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