This Music Makes Me Want to Fuck
“This music makes me want to fuck.”
“Look around you! This music makes everyone want to fuck. If they played any better we’d all be naked before the after party even started.”
We looked at each other and the crowd; we could see it in their eyes. If there had been aisles to dance in, they’d have been full, and as it was there were more lips touching in dark corners than not.
She slid her hand up my leg until she found what she was looking for, and thirty seconds before the intermission started we were in the bathroom of the Parkside Lounge–despite the sign on the wall telling us, “only one person at a time”.
There wasn’t time for niceties. There was hardly time for zippers, let alone the condom wrapper, but somehow, in the confines of the small room, she had a leg up, and I was inside her before we could even lock the door. The MC was screaming in the other room, someone was knocking, and we were grunting as I thrust up inside her as the music flowed through my body.
Neither one of us came, but it wasn’t that kind of sex. It was like the first drag of a cigarette after a long flight, or a drink of water after running the marathon. It was the kind of sex that requires a hard cock and a wet cunt to connect just long enough to know everything is ok and love is still stronger than whiskey.
People stared when we stumbled out, still adjusting our clothing as we crawled back through the crowd. I was still hard, and she was still wet, but we could take care of that later. We found our seat, ordered two more drinks, and kissed until we didn’t.
As the band started up again, and Dee Dee Vega wailed out her lines with that perfect voice, we held each other and smiled. My date leaned in and whispered a perfect parody of the song being sung.
“At least we fuck for free.”
