Sweat and Leather
Copyright 2000-2001, Niko Wilde
All Rights Reserved

Friday night, and I'm restless. Jason, on my left- his hand resting on the small of my back, nudging gently. Trying to tell me it's all right to take a break...slip outside for a smoke, and try to catch a breeze. All said without a word, because words would be pointless over the earth shattering rage of the music.

I move out of the way, and let him step in place. The transfer is smooth and seamless- he's been here long enough to know I take my work seriously, and don't want to fool around...especially on a night like this, when the heat is smothering. Mid August, temperatures have been hitting the high ninties all week, and the club is a raging inferno tonight. Above my head, a vent puffs out breaths of cool air, but it's lost in the sea of leather and vinyl clad bodies. Bodies packed so tightly together, it's a wonder anyone is still breathing.

The music is keeping me breathing; the back breaking bass beat pounding through my chest like an artificial heartbeat. Seven hours of this heat, and my makeup is nothing but drips and smears- I'm sure I look like a horrorshow parody of myself, but the night is nearly over...almost time to go home and strip out of these clothes...clothes that cling and mold like a second, sweaty skin.

I pick up the half-empty glass of beer, and drain it in three long swallows...hoping it will be enough to clear the smoke and humidity out of my throat. Jason looks my way, and arches one carfully drawn-on brow in my direction. He probably wonders what I'm waiting for, why I'm still here when I should be outside letting my ears adjust to some semblence of silence...and all I can do is shrug my shoulders in answer.

I've been restless since the night started, looking for...something.

And that's when I see you, down in front. Even from here, I can see the slight frown on your face...annoyed by the music, perhaps? I watch you, trying to decipher your expression. Is it the heat that's got you wondering why you came here, in the first place? Or maybe, I tell myself in a moment of clarity, you're looking for something, too.

I don't give myself a moment to change my mind. Down the steps, pushing through the hot, sweet bodies- some soft, some hard- and all reeking of sweat, leather, and smoke...until I'm close enough to catch your wrist. Pulling you towards the near-silence of the stairwell, shutting the heavy steel door behind us, and locking it with fingers that shake in anticipation.

I'm on my knees before rational thought can take over, pressing you back against the wall...hands gripping and kneading your thighs- pressing and digging into tight, tense muscles with determination...the music is dimmer, almost distant, but I can still feel it pounding through your skin.

Careful eyes watch your face, and I wonder...do you have any idea how much I want this? I can taste you, already. But, I wait- wait for any possible sign from you. Go on, and see if you're going to taste like I imagined, or walk away hungry. Your answering growl and tight grip in my hair is the only answer I need, and before the third heartbeat pounds through my chest, you've got my face pressed hard against your groin...makeup and sweat smearing against the leather, and I can feel that you're every bit as hungry as I am.

Rrrrrrrmmmmmm.....here we go. Hands still working your thighs..half to feel the bass of the music, and half to feel the way muscles turn to stone under my fingers. Reaching for the button, as mouth moulds your dick through the leather. My mouth can be like a vice sometimes, and now......it wants to be. Lips, jaws...squeezing the pulsing meat through the leather before fingers find the zipper, and tug it down...elbows nudge thighs farther apart, and once the zipper is down..... Rrrrrrrmmm....count three more heartbeats, and I'm reaching for your cock. Hungry wouldn't begin to describe me now, not even close. Fingers squeeze tight for one stroke, and maybe a bit of admiration.....maybe.....tongue flicks against the head, and there's time for one long, lazy lick from root to tip....maybe even a second, tongue lapping up any traces of salt and sweat I can get before letting you slide into my throat. Hands tug leathers down a bit further, over thighs....and hands have enough skin to reach, to keep them as happy as my mouth. If I find the spot where thigh and torso meet, thumb can press deep, and I can feel your pulse.

Your grip in my hair tightens, and you're thrusting deeper into my mouth...but I can tell you're going to let me set my own pace, for now. One glance up at your face, and I know you're watching the slide of wet, hot meat through eager lips- and it's your expression that does me in. Dark, lustglazed eyes...you're restrained, but barely. I'm sure of this, absolutely sure- and I can't help but feel like I'm prodding a sleeping tiger.

I want to hear you scream.

I'm not sure for a minute if that's your pulse, or the music.....both feel the same.....but fingers still press and relax, press and relax...almost in time with my mouth.

Almost.

My mouth is more determined, and it's got a mind and rhythm of it's own. And you *taste* good....too good. Fingers slip from their pulsepoint, wrapping around your balls and pressing them towards your shaft....I want to weigh them, and learn the texture, and if I had more than one mouth, I'd be in heaven right now. Growling low in my throat as your grip tightens...and that's all the urging I need for forceful sucks, cockhead hitting the back of my throat and pushing deeper....deeper....until you're buried to the root. Head bobbing, twisting, as fingers continue to stroke and knead sacflesh....and mouth finally pulls back enough to swirl across drooling cockhead, and lick it clean....searching the slit for more before going down again....tongue pressing deep into flesh with each stroke, and I'm moaning every time your dick pulses or jumps in my mouth.

You would have groaned if you had any more breath in your lungs. My scalp is screaming from the grip in my hair, because it's getting tighter, and you're thrusting into my throat with abandon....hard enough to choke me, but I want it. I want to be breathless and bruised, as much as I want to hear you scream. Sacflesh shifts and tightens in my hand, and your entire body is strung tighter than wire.

If there's one thing I understand, it's body language. You want it hard, you got it- and lets see how long you can stay standing, shall we? Just keep leaning against that wall.....free hand reaching up, and snaking under shirt to feel your skin, your sweat, your heartbeat....and either it's picked up the bassbeat of the music, or you're making your own music.

devil man, yes i can
cut a little piece of you....
hunger, inside you
hunger, destroy you....


I can't hear the words, but I know them by heart....and it certainly fits.

Deep, sucking plunges...lips sealed so tight that the friction is starting to burn my tongue.....but my mouth is piston driving your cock....black lipstick is all but worn off, and you're gonna have a hell of a time getting it off...but I like watching the streaks every time hard meat slides past hungry lips again. I'm not letting go of your balls, either.....I want to feel the flesh tighten *more*, and my touch is deceptively light.

Your knees are bent, and your determined thrusts have intensified even more. I wish I could see inside your head, wish I could know what you're thinking, what you're feeling- but you're beautiful pressed up against that wall with your eyes closed, sweat trickling down your forehead. You're thrusting deeper, trying to catch my throat in the middle of a swallow with each bonejarring pistonslam of your hips.

Mmmmmmmm.......... fuckyeah, fuck my face....all you get is a growl of approval, because I can't talk with my mouth full. Your determination, and that fuckingtightgrip kicks mine into overdrive, and I wanna do more than just keep up. Fuck, at this moment, I'd do anything you wanted....or just thought you wanted. Breathing is the last thing on my mind....rolling your balls in my palm one more time, thumb finding the place where thigh and sac meet, and I'm letting go. The hand on your chest leaves, too.....and both hands are gripping your thighs, and hanging on tight. You ram in harder, and my mouth is eager to compensate.....swallowing you to the root, and growling around your dick before backing off, only to eat you alive again. Tight sliding suck......growl.....and, again. Mmmmmmmm......but I want your cockhead again, and tongue finds the tip to lick it clean one more time.....more, always more.....jaw is starting to ache, and so is my throat....feels like I'm swallowing a battering ram, but let me do it again. And right *there*, that delicious spot where shaft and head meet.....tongue has to pay extra attention, and the metal presses deep for a scrape, every time you slide down my throat.

You're grunting, breathless...and I wonder, have you ever felt a tongue stud on your dick before? You're a fountain of sweat and heat...your hips can't piston any faster, and you're so far down my throat I can feel you in my gut. Fingers dig into thighs just that much tighter, holding you in place.....holding you tight against that wall, and finally, there it is.....can't mistake it, the way your dick swells in my mouth, that warning pulse- I could back it off if i wanted to, but.....I don't. Taking you down to the root for the first burst, and I have to wonder if you're shooting liquid fire because it burns, it's so fucking hot..... Mmmmmmm.......throat constricts with every effort to swallow, and you're trapped in the back of my throat, not going anywhere. C'mon, empty.....every drop, mine. I tried my best to earn it, and even if I didn't.....I'll take it one way or another. Your heartbeat trips out it's own music, and i can't hear anything else through the roaring in my ears.

The roaring in my ears.

It was you...the scream I wanted. That's the beauty of loud music.....no one *ever* hears you scream. I know, I've tried it- howled like a banshee over the music, and it.....blends, so nicely. Here, though- I can hear you perfectly.....and mouth and throat work together to drain you dry. When I'm sure there's nothing else, fingers unclench from around your thighs and I pull myself to my feet. Grabbing the hem of your shirt and tugging it out of my way, tongue snaking a wet trail over abs, and across chest....sweat and salt......your throat, your jaw, I want the sweat as much as I wanted everything else. And finally, your lips...I wanted those from the beginning. Body pinning yours against the wall, tongue exploring every *inch* of your mouth.

You may not know my name, but I want you to remember me.

Remember.

And the way you return that kiss, rough and bruising...the perfect contrast to your hands, rubbing my back and kneading my ass...pulling us so close there isn't an inch of space between our bodies.

I know you'll remember. And you may even come back for more.

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