bassista | this is an excuse for lesbian sex

She is having fun, but it's not just that. Her entire world is turning upside down right now, Sophia questioning so many things she thought she knew about herself. It feels like she's sliding downhill, desperate to find something to slow the descent.

How is that something also the very thing making her thoughts spiral?

Victoria doesn't give her time to dwell on it, because she's crushing their lips together in a kiss, and Sophia can taste the sweetness from herself on the other's tongue. She moans softly, bringing a hand up to the back of Victoria's head, fingers threading into tangled hair.

Her head is spinning a little when the bassist pulls away, gazing up at the other's stunning form over her. She watches, mouth going dry as Victoria starts to unbutton her slacks. There's a flutter in her chest -- nerves, anticipation, want.

"Better than any of my boyfriends," she admits. Her hands slide up the other's soft waist, over her ribs, hesitating for just a second before circling around to find the half undone clasp of the lace bra. She unhooks the second hook and pulls it free, exhaling slowly as she takes in the unbroken expanse of skin. Bottom lip catching between her teeth, she reaches up to gently palm the curve of one breast, thumb brushing experimentally over the nipple.

Victoria laughs at that, clearly pleased -- there it is, the magic words.

Better than a fucking boyfriend.

Something else happens, too: Sophia gets a surge of confidence she's not expecting. The last clasp on her lace bra is undone, Sophia's fingers soft and beautiful as they roam around Vic's body. Vic lets her, all her louder than life energy focused only on the other blonde's face.

Vic's breasts are small but perky, and she purposefully angles herself into the other girl's hands once she's touching them. Her nipple hardens instantly, a moan forming low in her throat.

"Yes," she murmurs, unzipping her slacks next, still unable to look away from the other.

Weird. Normally it's easier. This is intimate. She moans again, letting the music wash over her, allowing Sophia to fondle her breasts.

"You want to make me come, dolcezza?" Vic had been fully prepared to do all of the work, but this is something she is not particularly upset about happening at all.

The nipple hardens under her thumb, sending an unexpected thrill down her spine. She's never touched any breasts other than her own. Victoria's are small and cute, fitting almost perfectly into her hand, the skin soft and warm beneath her touch.

With Victoria's encouragement, she brings her other hand up to join the first. Fingers knead gently, thumbs slowly tracing around pert nipples. She's staring at those perfect breasts fitting right into her palms, only lifting her gaze when Victoria speaks.

She does want to make the other come. She wants to see all the other reactions she can elicit. Find out what the bassist tastes like, what makes her arch and moan and gasp, discover what it's like to have that tight heat around her fingers.

"Yeah," she says, wearing a soft, almost shy smile. "You made me feel so good, Vic. I wanna do the same for you."

That shy little smile, the way Sophia is cupping both of her breasts--Vic moans again. The gentleness is overwhelming, not because it's new -- Vic purposefully picks up straight girls-- but because when Sophia does it, the bassist feels something indescribable.

Fuck.

She focuses instead on the physical touch, shimmying and shifting to get out of her pants. Her underwear matches her bra, black lace and surprisingly delicate, cupping her small but perky ass perfectly. She looks down, reaches over to push the other's hair out of her face.

Shit. That weird feeling again. She glances down at the other's fingers, nails specifically, and looks back at Sophia.

"Lie down," she says softly, running her hands down her sides.

She's gotta be doing something right if Victoria is still moaning. The nerves are different than before-- now there's the added anxiety that she won't be good enough. The bassist has clearly done this a lot. It shows in every ounce of confidence she exudes, the sheer skill of her sinful tongue and those guitar plucking fingers.

Sophia's never had anyone complain about her blowjobs or handies, and she can pleasure herself perfectly fine. But this is a whole other ball game.

She wants to, though. There's nerves, but there's also desire and determination that are out weighing it greatly. Her hands slide from the other's breasts, back down the curves of her waist to rest on her hips, thumbs tracing over the edge of the lace panties.

Sophia's not sure what exactly Victoria has in store, but she shifts obediently, pushing the pillow out from behind her shoulders to lay back fully. He gaze drifts over the other's body.

"You're stunning," she murmurs. "Absolutely bloody gorgeous."

She's obedient, supple and beautiful and Vic should probably take it a little slow, but she's horny and Sophia's hot and her nails are a little too sharp and fuck it, she wants loud and fun and instant gratification, she wants wild rock and roll.

She wants to not think.

She sticks her tongue out, winking as she arches her back, half-like she's posing and half because she needs to move, too much energy, too much excitement. It's perfect. Sophia's perfect.

Vic's getting really, really into this. Better sex than whatever twisted her stomach before.

"I know," she says, and then she laughs again and looks down. Her hands move to either side of Sophia's head, looking down.

"Stick out your tongue."

She loves the way Victoria moves over her, just like she does on stage with her bass. Fluid and uncaring of what it looks like to others, simply letting the music flow through her. The polar opposite of Sophia's carefully choreographed performances, not a single wink or smile unplanned for.

She never really believed opposites could attract so well before now.

The pieces of what Victoria wants are falling into place in front of her. Hands frame either side of her head, blue eyes widening just a bit when she realizes what this is and her cunt starts to throb.

Fuck. Just the anticipation is hotter than she would've imagined. She licks her lips once before sticking her tongue out, mouth open, hands sliding down to rest on Victoria's soft thighs.

Vic sees it -- the flutter of uncertainty mixed with want, that curious part of her winning over any hesitation. She should have started slow. She should have hust let her finger her -- those sentences repeat.

Vic blinks, and she's startled to find herself hesitating. Why? She's done this millions of times before. She's sure Sophia can handle it.

Fuck.

Shit.

Vic bites at her lip before she leans down, moving to her ear like someone can overhear them over the loud music in their private hotel bedroom.

"Here," she slides her hand into Sophia's, lacing their fingers together.

"Squeeze twice if it's too much, okay?"

Sophia thinks Victoria's leaning down to kiss her, but instead those lips go next to her ear, and the bassist does something that makes her heart flutter even harder than a kiss would have.

Those fingers lace between hers, giving her a fail safe, a way to back out if she gets too overwhelmed. Being taken care of in a way she hasn't really been before.

Something settles inside her, providing her with a heavy sense of safety and security. She's suddenly very glad that Victoria brought her up to the roof tonight.

"Okay," she says softly, and gives the other's hand a single gentle squeeze. She's ready.

Sophia confirms and Vic tries to push it back again, the strange way her stomach threatens to fold itself in two, the way her heart beats a bit faster. She's not evens sure she's going to last long with how Sophia's been steadily working her whether the singer realizes it or not--the looks, the gasps, the way her mouth formed that pefect o--all of it was almost better than sex for Vic.

And now? She kisses the other, not roughly but certainly not softly. They want to fuck, she wants to fuck, and she's sure if Sophia makes her come it'll solve pretty much everything that's making her head spin.

She pulls away, stroking the other's cheek, thumb gently grazing that full lower one before she moves entirely. It's easy to position herself the right way, with Sophia placed perfectly between her legs, feeling her warm breath on her hot cunt.

Victoria licks her lips, moves that hair out of her face again, and carefully lowers herself onto Sophia's face.

Now Victoria does kiss her, those perfect full lips firm and demanding against her own. Sophia groans softly into the other's mouth, letting herself taste the wine and cigarettes and her own sex lingering on the bassist's tongue.

In just a second, she's going to find out what Victoria's tastes like, too. She wets her lips as the other shifts, the fluttering in her stomach now due to anticipation more than nerves. Those beautiful thighs straddle her head, and the bassist slowly lowers herself to Sophia's face.

Oh, Victoria's wet. All this just from pleasuring her. That alone is enough to make her head spin, but as she experimentally nestles her tongue between the other's folds, the taste almost makes her lose her mind completely.

It's sweet, and a little bit tart, like candy melting in her mouth. Nothing like the sharp saltiness of a man's precome. She makes a soft pleased noise in the back of her throat, pressing in deeper to the other's warm cunt, tongue sliding slowly from entrance to clit. The hand not laced with Victoria's slides beneath her thigh to wrap around the top.

Sophia is either intuitive or incredibly lucky, and knowing what little she knows about how to service women but getting it right almost immediately.

Or maybe Victoria is just sensitive now, wet and wanting and that beautiful voice moans which makes Vic's mouth open with delight. It's a beautiful sight, that perfect face between her, that hand moving up to her thigh. But it's that moan that makes Vic lose her mind, nodding as she begins to grind her hips.

She's careful not to press down too hard, but it means she has to brace herself a little on the headboard, moaning again.

"Yes, Sophia, just like that--you look so good like this, fuck." It's almost overwhelming.

Sophia has already decided: this is incredible. Victoria is so responsive. Mouth opening, hips grinding, letting out that beautiful moan. So different from all the boys that try to stay strong and silent, and so much better.

Victoria says her name like that, plying her with praise and encouragement. Only serving to drive Sophia more wild. She repeats the motion, licking another long, slow stripe, this time circling her tongue around the other's clit. Part of it is mimicking what others have done to her, but a lot of it is an intuitive curiosity, a want to explore and experiment.

Her tongue circles a few times before sliding back down, teasing against the hole in the same way. She relaxes her jaw, opening her mouth a little bit wider and pressing her tongue inside just a bit. She moans softly again, gaze trained up to watch the other's face.

Victoria doesn't bother to hide exactly how Sophia makes her feel -- Sophia laps at her cunt and Vic moans freely and loudly, grinding those hips, each delicate lick and experimental move driving her wild.

She loves girls like this, the eager ones, the bright-eyed and ready to prove type--she loves the ones like Sophia even better, eager to be seen as a little more and smart enough to do so.

Vic eases the process along, shifting her weight, going with whatever Sophia seems to be doing. Her mouth feels heavenly, and when Vic glances down to that perfect sight her fingers clasp tightly around Sophia's.

That sight is something Vic is going to remember for a long, long time.

"Just--just like that, a little more on the clit, dolcezza," she tapers off into Italian, half murmuring as she keeps eye contact.

Sophia's drunk on the taste of Victoria, the sweet juices on her tongue, the heat against her mouth, high off the beautiful sounds of those moans carrying over the heavy bass. She can't get enough of it, can't pull her gaze from the other's lust-filled expression, the rise and fall of her chest.

Victoria meets her gaze, squeezes her hand. Sophia's rapidly beating heart skips and stutters against her ribs, fingers tightening against the other's thigh. She follows the instruction, sliding her tongue up, dragging it flat against that tight bundle of nerves.

Save for winning the competition they're both in, Sophia's never wanted anything as much as she wants to make Victoria come right now. Desperate to know what it's like to have those thighs trembling around her face, the other girl losing herself in ecstasy above her.

The hand on Victoria's thigh moves up to cup her breast again, circling the pad of her thumb against the hardened nipple as she tips her chip up, angling the tip of her tongue right against the others clit, flicking it side to side.

Victoria's easy to be in the moment, easy to just feel and be--it's the only thing that matters, it's the only thing that will ever matter at this rate, because Sophia licks like she knows Vic inside out and Victoria is fighting back the urge to fuck her face so roughly she destroys the poor girl's face before they're both in the biggest music contest in the world.

She's not sure when it happens, somewhere between steady moaning and heavy encouraging, but that grip on the baseboard is tight as Victoria's expert rhythm picks up, cunt moving in Sophia's mouth, arching up and at her as the singer grabs her tits and has her gasp with pleasure.

She says Sophia's name. She thinks she does, she's not sure, because Sophia has followed her instructions above and beyond and after a few more, she's nearly ready, hand clamping down as tight as possible in poor Sophia's fingers.

"Sophia I'm going to fucking come--"

It doesn't matter that Victoria's hand is practically crushing hers, or that she can hardly breathe with the way the other is grinding against her, nose buried deep between those beautiful legs. This is the hottest thing in the world, the rocker losing all control on top of her, seeing the effect Sophia's having on that perfect body.

It's no wonder the bassist was already so wet when they started. Her own pussy is throbbing with arousal, and Sophia clenches her legs together for some sense of relief.

Victoria says her name -- gasps it, really -- those words sending a surge of confidence and pride through her. She moans, not letting up on the flicking assault until the other is coming against her mouth. She squeezes that hand back, tightening her grip on the breast as well, rolling her tongue along Victoria's sweet cunt over and over as the bassist rides it out.

She's absolutely doing this at least one more time before the night's over. Victoria's too unbearably sexy like this not to.

It feels so good, Victoria looses her mind. Her thrusts run out of rhythm as her back arches, yelling the other's name loudly, bucking wildly as her toes curl and her whole body shakes, riding herself on Sophia's face and completely lost in herself.

It's the best orgasm she's had in years, and as she slows down, panting, she at least moves her body down so she's straddling Sophia and not her face. When her hand loosens from Sophia's, she doesn't think about what she's doing: she tugs those slender digits closer, kissing those knuckles softly as an apology for being so rough.

"Oh my God," she says, and she rolls off of Sophia and onto the bed next to her, pulling her quickly into a kiss, tasting herself and moaning, long and slow as tongue parts past lips and and laying with her and unable to stop tasting her.

"That was perfect, Dolcezza, you're a fucking natural." She's still breathing heavily, grinning wide, wild and uncaring. She feels free.

Victoria comes entirely apart over her. Arching and bucking, shouting Sophia's name for the neighboring rooms to hear over the music. Trembling and shaking as she rides out every last second of her orgasm on Sophia's face.

It's maybe the single most hottest thing she's ever seen in her life.

Sophia draws in a deep breath as Victoria shifts down, head spinning, though she can't be sure if it's from having her nose buried in the other's cunt or the sheer satisfaction of everything that's happened. She doesn't realize her fingers are aching until Victoria brings them to her mouth, kissing them softly, and Sophia's heart feels like it's going to skip right out of her chest.

The bassist rolls off her, immediately dragging her into a kiss that makes her moan right along with her. She's smiling when Victoria pulls away, letting out a soft, breathless giggle.

"That was really fun," she admits, dropping her head to place kisses against the other's shoulder. "You looked so good coming in my mouth."

Sophia is all nice soft, girlish kisses and hugging her and kissing her shoulder and Vic feels that twist in her stomach that makes her heart flutter and absolutely terrifies her.

She yells instead. It's loud, and Sophia's definitely getting a noise complaint, but Vic shouts so loud her chainsmoker's voice breaks, and she wraps Sophia into a hug, both of them naked and high off of their own orgasms, and squeezes her as hard as she possibly can.

"See?! Fuck guys! You know how to treat a woman better than anyone else and you've only slept with one, Sophia! Fuck, and your tongue!" She's pulling her close again, smothering her with kisses because she can. It's close to 3 in the morning, and even through the loud music she swears she can hear a thud and Nicky giggling in the hallway right outside their door.

"I thought you were too much of a princess until now," she confesses.

Despite all the yelling Victoria has done tonight, Sophia's not expecting this one, with her head ducked and her lips against the other's shoulder. She jumps a little, her giggle cutting into a full laugh when Victoria gathers her up and squeezes her tight.

This is more than just fun. This is Sophia's heart soaring each and every time Victoria says her name. It's wanting to pull the other under the covers without getting dressed and curl up against her side, soaking in that warmth all night. Hoping she can wake up far too early for interviews and rehearsals with that body still pressed against hers.

Rebounds aren't supposed to feel this way, she's pretty sure. They're not supposed to make her blush and giggle and-- and what? Fall in love? Just a little bit? She always falls too fast too soon. No matter how hard she tries, she can never stop it. And it's not different just because it's with a girl this time.

They kiss, over and over again, Sophia laughing between each one. It's-- oh God, it's three in the morning. They have to be awake again in a few hours. Worth it, she thinks, and props herself up on one elbow, facing Victoria.

"Oh, I can be," she assures, and tips her head toward the mountain of pillows behind them. "I sleep like one, anyway."

Of course she does. There's so many pillows, so many cute things--Victoria loves cute things, she's not above the occasional stuffed animal--but these are all so quintessentially Sophia. The punk little throw rug, the pink speaker that Vic appreciates is still blasting club music loudly, it's all personal.

Victoria smiles, and before she can stop herself, she's stroking the other's face with her thumb gently.

"I bet you do," she murmurs, seemingly calming down for a while, matching Sophia's energy. The pink hair tie is still over her wrist.

"Tell me what your bedroom is like," she says suddenly, voice dropping somewhat. She doesn't know why, but she feels like she needs it. Any glimpse into the high life of Sophia Clarke.

For Sophia, this is always the best part. The last bits of the come down, a quiet serenity between two people who just shared a very intimate moment. The pillow talk. It always makes her feel closer to her partners, and a necessary moment for her to know she's cared about. That it isn't just about what her body can do.

And it really seems like Victoria cares. Stroking her cheek, asking her questions like she truly wants to know the answers. Sophia feels warm and comfortable curled up with her, even without being under the covers or on the pillows.

Her hand comes up to rest on the curve of Victoria's waist, tracing aimless circles against soft skin with her thumb.

"It's going to make me sound very posh," she warns, but she's smiling softly as she continues. "It's very white and pink. My favorite colors. Wood floors, but there's rugs all over the place because my feet get cold. The bed is king sized, and I've got about twice as many pillows as I do here. With one of those mesh canopies over it. I've got loads of stuffies -- my dad's always traveling for work and they're his favorite gifts to send back."

There's a small moment of hesitation before she reaches back for the stuffed bear nestled among the pillows. It's worn, almost ratty even. The fur has lost its softness some time ago, the stuffing inside misshapen from being clutched beneath an arm for years. Its missing an eye, and the stitching for the mouth and nose is pulled up and unraveling.

"This was the first one he sent, when I was five. His name is Paddington and he goes everywhere with me."

This is nice, the two of them curled up like this. Sophia is forward and unafraid to share what Vic considers an intimate detail--it's brave in a way that Vic can't be.

Somehow, it makes her even more gorgeous. The way the cheap hotel lights hit her look great, the way she's naked and vulnerable in a way that's comfortable to Vic but not so much to other people. The bassist can practically see what the other is describing, and she plays with her own hair as she listens, murmuring occasionally as an interject--a habit from her culture and a very big house she was raised in.

And then the bear comes out.

It's ugly. It's unstuffed, terrible looking. Beaten up. It's shit, there's no use for it, it's barely a bear anymore. If Sophia hadn't said Paddington, Vic isn't sure she'd know what animal it was.

The thing is, though, that it's also beautiful. Because Sophia fucking radiates with something, some sort of charm, some sort of aura that Vic doesn't recognize and can't place.

'This was the first one he sent,' she said.

Victoria bites her full lip, covering where she guesses are the eyes.

"I'm sorry you saw me deflower your princess, Paddington."

She asks the real question next, looking up and over at Sophia. It's her turn to hesitate.

"How many has he sent you?"

It's a moment of vulnerability for sure, more so than lying here naked could ever be. It's silly -- she's a grown woman in her mid twenties, living away from home since university, staring down the starts of a very promising professional career. In her late teens, her friends teased her for it. As an adult, boys have been weird and inexplicably insecure about it. Like having stuffed animals around threatened their masculinity.

Victoria -- she covers Paddington's missing eyes, and speaks to him. Impossibly cute, enamoring, making Sophia's heart beat harder and faster than it did with Victoria's fingers inside her.

God. It's everything she's ever wanted. Sitting right here in front of her, in the form of a rock and roll goddess with full lips and a smokey voice. Sophia's whole world has turned around in a matter of hours, but she doesn't really mind when she feels so taken care of.

"Oh, loads. Dozens." The smile is still in place, her tone light and unbothered, as if she hasn't spent most of her life counting the gifts in place of 'I love you's.

She looks down, fingers curling loosely around the bear against her chest. The smile falters the tiniest bit, right at the corners.

"Two hundred and twenty-eight."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject