DJ & Jay Ch. 01-02

Our driver pulled up to the side door of a downtown department store and we disembarked. There was still no real hierarchy established so we all kind of walked around each other a minute till Tasha finally took the lead. I had always loved to just walk in and smell the place, never mind buying. The combination of high-end men’s cologne, suede, and furniture polish went straight to the brain, like a childhood memory of better days. Today, to my surprise, we headed to the women’s clothing section.

“You need something for tonight,” Tasha stated.

“Well, what’s wrong with my leather pants?” I pointed out.

DJ had some input. “They’re great, but the big baggy shirt has to go. I know what you need. One of these.” He gestured to a rack of “shirts” that were more like differently folded handkerchiefs of various fabrics, some with straps.

“What’s your size?” DJ queried.

“Uh… large.” I didn’t want to say. Even though much smaller than I used to be, it occurred to me how skinny DJ really was and it made me wonder if he only liked malnourished-looking women. My answer didn’t seem to bother him and he went straight to looking through the selection in my size. Jay, however, was bored. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

“I’m gonna walk around,” he told us. “I got an appointment with Mary Jane.”

Tasha & I raised our eyebrows at each other. I stared at him. “Where??”

“I dunno… I guess I gotta use the bathroom again…”

“Well, don’t let it use you!” I shot back one of my favorite lines. At least that made him smile. He turned and walked off.

“Try these,” DJ was saying, holding out 4 garments on hangers.

“Yeah,” Tasha added. “I’ll keep looking though, but see if you like those. I think that style will look great on you now. You deserve it; try something more daring.”

I took the bundle of hangers from DJ, still feeling weird about looking at him. While I proceeded to the dressing room, I thought about how Tasha had been through thick and thin with me, so to speak, and how good of a friend she had become. Meeting Jay and DJ was beyond any of my expectations of life in general, much less of any one particular friend. I was feeling extremely warm and fuzzy toward her, alright. And I still had to wonder how she pulled off such a thing.

The first two “shirts,” or whatever you’d call them, were cute, but not what I was looking for. The float-away silk was too light of a fabric to wear with my leathers. Next, I picked up a black suede piece with more to it, and rhinestone straps. It still left quite a bit of my back bare, but not my stomach. The curtain opened.

“Very nice,” said DJ, looking me up and down. In a very obvious way, he was giving me the same treatment I gave him and his eyes were twinkling. My nipples immediately stood up. “Very VERY nice,” he added.

I snorted. I’d been having a private talk with myself in the last few minutes about not being over-awed or complacent. From now on I was just going to be myself.

“Thanks,” I told him. “They like you.”

DJ stepped into the booth and got right up in my face. Without saying anything, he reached under the triangle-pointed shirt and slowly traced the outlines of my breasts. I’m not particularly stacked, but they have a decent shape. While DJ lightly moved his hands all over my chest, I kept my eyes locked on his. My boobs swelled slightly; they did that when I was turned on. The points were suddenly so hard they hurt. But I didn’t move. Even if DJ was getting paid to do this or if he just considered me a cute little plaything, I was going to milk it for all it was worth.

His eyes were making me dizzy. Dizzy. I had to laugh inwardly over that. His blue irises were still fairly light-colored even under the muted lighting, and flecked with white spots. Those spots seemed to be moving, circling. DJ’s exploration of my breasts was much in the same motion. The need to moan was very close my surface. My tendencies to be vocal were not well-placed and not making a sound was difficult, but it heightened the intensity. It had been over three years since I’d been touched by a man; way too long. Every inch of my skin damn near itched with the need.

I reached out with both hands for whatever I could get them on. As soon as I touched DJ, some primeval force rose in my body, and almost made me cum on the spot. A sort of low growl twisted out of my mouth and I tried to grab him harder, to pull him against me.

“No,” he said, in a neutral voice that was neither angry nor commanding and not even attempting to be quiet. “I’m off limits.” Then he made me turn around and look in the mirror.

“Oh, really?” I was going for sarcastic but it came out rather pathetically, like a child being denied her toy. It was not the impression I wanted to make. If some famous guy shouldn’t be using me for my body, then likewise I shouldn’t use him. Damn it all.

“Really. Let me make you feel good…” DJ said it with an interesting twist of irony and something like, he thought I’d tell him no. Didn’t the guy know I’d been cow-eyed over him for months? Tasha must have told him. He still stood behind me, looking dead-on into the mirror and into my reflection’s flushed face.

“Can you?” The question stood as my acquiesce. The heat I’d felt earlier flared up again as DJ moved his hands like before. His fingers were soft, gentle, sliding smoothly over my burning skin in smaller and smaller circles. Half the nerves in my body seemed to be connected to the flesh over which he was skimming his hands; the other half was connected to my nipples, which would have been screaming if they’d been blessed with any aural capabilities. DJ squeezed, just a little, then went straight to the tips, pinching them harder than they already were, pulling and tweaking. His eyes stayed locked on our reflected images.

“You like to watch?” I asked him, point blank.

“Sometimes,” he answered in a low voice. “though it has its disadvantages, like not getting to touch any of these.”

“Touch all you want,” I told him. “But I want to kiss you, DJ.”

He made the “heh, heh” noise again. “Mmm, I don’t know.” He kept up with the workover to my breasts.

We watched each other for some minutes, while he pulled on my erect tips, rolling them between his thumbs and fingers. I saw myself squirming. My lower half moved in slow grinds. My chest heaved irregularly. My pupils dilated till all I saw was black, and desperate. DJ towered directly behind me, his pixie face starting to get shiny. All he’d touched was my tits, and I was ready to unload, or whatever the female version there-of is, down my thighs.

“Oh, DJ, oh pleeease!” After that near-wail, I cut myself off. My mental back-talk kicked in. ‘You’re making an ass of yourself. For god’s sake, he’s got thousands of little girls half your age googoo-ing over him.’

Apparently I’d convinced him, or he’d convinced himself. DJ removed his hands from the far reaches of my “shirt” and spun me around. Even as I realized what he was going to do I was reaching for him again. There wasn’t that much of him to grab onto, truth be told. Like his body, his manner had this whole elusive sprightliness to it that made him hard to pin down. My arms went around his narrow waist and I groped two-handed up his back and cranked my head back so far my hair brushed against my ass. ‘Slut’ I cursed myself, but stopped nothing. DJ lowered his absolutely perfect lips. Now all my nerve endings were in my mouth and it was all I could do to hold back enough not to get out of line with my tongue immediately. He was shy about it, almost; he went slowly, but the man could kiss. His lips tasted like brandy and were very mobile, but stayed mostly on my own. The pressure he applied, rhythmically, was like that of drinking, or painting, or kneading bread. God, it was like fucking. He’d barely acknowledged my tongue yet, although he received it readily enough. I traced the outline of his wide mouth with my tongue tip, darting it inside and flicking his teeth and the bridge between. He’d give me a little poke with his own warm tongue, and then pull his head back just enough so I’d retract mine into my mouth, over and over again.

“Lioness.” he said. “Aren’t you aggressive?”

I thought I’d better ask. “…Bother you?”

“…Nnnnooo.” He was breathing heavily. “Jeez, slow down.”

“Why?” I decided to call his bluff. “You mean you don’t accost women in dressing rooms every day? You must be pretty fast to pull that off.” Double entendre intended, which didn’t get past him.

“I know you wanted me to,” he said in a cheesy voice, rolling his eyes at himself and blushing just a little.

“Duuuuh,” was my smoother-than-Valentino reply.

He pushed me backwards into the wall and flattened himself against me. I wanted to laugh over the mental picture. Like playing rock-paper-scissors: I was rock and he was paper. Or stick. No, no stick in that game. But in this game there was a stick, or maybe a sausage, shoved into the region of my navel. Feeling him hard did weird things to my libido. DJ’s motion in my mouth continued, but faster, and his tongue was much in evidence. He had the advantage, being so much taller. I could stroke his tongue and kiss him back as long as he stayed in reach, but I was controlling nothing and it was time to change that.

In the corner on the other side of the cubicle was a square stool, about 18 inches square. I raised one foot to the wall behind me and kicked off, aiming us in its general direction. DJ found himself on his butt on the stool with me straddling his skinny hips. Now our faces were level. Better. I went for it. His hair was not very long, but I had the fingers of one hand wound into it quick. My other hand went for his ass but I wasn’t reaching it; he was too long. Our bodies did their thing with no further discussion. Dry-humping, I believe the expression is. The seam in the crotch of my pants was hitched up into my slit. Between that and straddling DJ’s leg, I was going for broke, and he knew it. All caution was momentarily abandoned; my moans and squeaks were audible to at least half the women’s department. If we hadn’t chased all the shoppers away, that was.

DJ kept kissing me, and he got rougher about it little by little. He opened his mouth in such a way that he opened mine too and filled it with tongue. It tickled every surface not covered by teeth, allowing me to finally do the same to him. My ass had been sadly lacking attention, but I only noticed because DJ’s hands were on it all of a sudden, to pull my hips to his tightly. He ground his cock against me as best he could as I sawed my pelvis back and forth over his leg.

“Go,” he whispered in my ear, extricating his mouthparts from mine. “Just go…”

I did. Rubbing my front against his and latching onto his neck with my mouth helped. I went as lightly as I could, but as hard as I dared, on his tendons and veins. Far be it from me to leave marks on him. My breath was coming too hard to stay attached long, anyway.

The tension in my groin was terrible, and overwhelmingly sweet. It rose and rose like a tsunami. The crash was going to be devastating. What would happen? Would I scream? Pass out? I felt a bit sorry for poor DJ stuck in a closet with a sex-starved, scared-for-her-life, sheepish as hell woman who was none-the-less pushing herself on towards coming (with his assistance of course) only a couple hours after having met him. These were passing thoughts, shunted away by the hormones that were buzzing like killer bees for an orgasm. It was totally physical, and then all of a sudden it wasn’t. It was comfort. DJ was giving what he could that I was ready or able to accept; it allowed me to feel normal a little while. Well, he’d know.

I squirmed and twisted, grabbing at DJ and throwing my head around. Maybe he gave up our earlier kissing match, or sensed something different was needed, but he pulled back his head and I felt suction on the side of my neck. Then teeth. It was so exquisite my whole body went stiff and for a minute I didn’t move.

”Go,” DJ repeated.

I wondered why he said go instead of ‘come’ or ‘cum’ but there was no mistaking his meaning.

We fell back into my earlier bucking rhythm. Faster and faster, higher and higher rose the wave of impending cream. DJ had his arms wrapped around me so tightly it was comparable to be rolled up in a carpet. His mouth, the perfect mix of hot and wet, breath and tongue, covered my neck with nips and kisses. I felt it coming a long way off--this cum was going to shatter me. I rode it to its end, pounding my aching clit against my clothing and against my partner. As it approached, I could sense at a remove how my back arched and went bone-stiff in its arch, the gulping breaths finally stopped as I held it in, my hands clutched at DJ’s shoulders so hard it’s amazing his collarbones didn’t snap.

He was still freaking me at my neck. At one point he reached up to put his hand over my mouth, for good reason. In my lower pelvis the release broke. As it spread it only got bigger and louder and more powerful. My vagina was aflood with gushing juices and it squeezed them out in a rush. Twin ovaries deep in my abdomen tingled and tickled till they exploded as well, my stomach convulsed; my nipples got the next shock wave and they felt like they were ready to release streams of milk. My legs went rock-hard tense, my feet pointed and then flexed. And finally, I screamed into DJ’s palm. Tears ran from both eyes and I realized I was actually crying.

I slid from his lap to the floor and collapsed, head in hands. I couldn’t stop the tears or the giggles and the aftershocks of my powerful orgasm were still fluttering through me.

Tasha’s voice, dryly, from somewhere near:

“Would you two get out here? Amy, give me that top and you two hightail it back outside. Take your bows, and hurry up about it ‘cause they called security.”

Oh, yeah, like I was in a position to be running at that moment. But I did, with DJ on my heels. We made directly for the door we’d entered through earlier. Nearing the glass double door, I wondered aloud, “Where are they?”

Promptly DJ spotted two large uniformed men walking briskly in our direction. He put a hand on my spine and shoved me out onto the sidewalk. We hopped into the limo which was still where we had left it. Jay was already there, smoking a cigarette and drumming his fingers impatiently. Now it was just a matter of Tasha. The trollish-looking rent-a-cops showed their faces out the door.

“Uh… Drive around the block, please,” DJ said into the intercom. We pulled slowly away from the curb. Once around the block. No Tasha. The second time around there she was, bag in hand, tapping her foot like she’d been standing there half an hour.

As she crawled in, she gave me a look like we’d both been through a narrow escape.

“They got it on tape, you know,” she announced.

DJ moaned, “Oh no! This is all I need.”

”What’s goin’ on?” Jay decided to join the conversation. “Like, what were youse guys doin’?”

“Little scene in the dressing room,” Tasha intoned.

“Were youse guys fucking in there?” He grinned wickedly at DJ. “Score!”

“Not quite,” DJ answered vaguely.

“Oh, well….” Jay began.

“…Maybe later,” the rest of us chimed in.

Jay waggled his eyebrows in my direction and gave a toothy ‘devil-on-my-shoulder’ smirk. “You’re a slut!” He meant it as a compliment, I think. “Well, when do we eat? I’m starving!”