The Return Of Dacia

She moved up my length and then slowly back down.

"I don't have it in me to be more than that."

Dacia moved up my length and slammed down. She moved her hips in a way made for me to cum inside her. I did not want it to end fast though; my balls ached from the pressure of wanting to spray more of myself inside of her. I turned us over and captured her legs underneath her knees with my arms. I rested my full weight on her. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me down for a kiss to drown both of us in her passion. I lost control like I always did when she kissed me liked that.

I was not an unbroken stallion, but there is only one way to fuck a wild mare in heat.

-----

The club, the photographer had invited the girls to, was a small amateur jazz joint where people could get on stage to jam if they wanted to. I saw a lot of instruments in the audience and recognized many of the dreams that had not been forgotten. I looked at Dacia as someone got on the microphone to announce that he was happy to see so many had brought their guitars because there was going to be a friendly competition tonight. I looked around the room; the majority of the people had brought electric like the one I carried.

Dacia walked to a little stand beside the stage to talk to a woman taking down names on a notebook. They talked to each other and as was Dacia's way the woman gained a new best friend while writing down my name. I watched Dacia as she walked back to me. The blonde with the hair and eyes stood next to me ready to referee the argument she thought was about to happen. I did not bother arguing with Dacia, she either won or I lost because I would have to walk away from her if I took it to the end.

The group that came with us, Lydia, her friends, the models, and my co-workers, looked curiously at Dacia. Lydia asked her how good I was. They were trying to tease me but Dacia told them I was the best. They first looked at her and then at me.

"If you're lucky you might hear one person better in your lifetime, but on my soul you won't hear two," I told them as the first set of players got on stage.

"Why aren't you in the business then?" Lydia asked. My explicit answer made her angry because it sounded like bragging.

She was challenging me.

"I haven't been discovered yet," I replied looking to the stage, dismissing her.

I waited my turn knowing how it had to end. No one else here had known their guitar before they could speak. This was fun for them, a way to show off, maybe get laid.

No one talked to me, and then it was my time.

I sat on stage waiting for the others in my group to finish; I was empty in a way even the old men would envy. They touched their guitars beside me but the music did not reach me. They were weekend warriors who said 'I have been playing for eight years' as their introduction. I did not remember a day before I was 25 that I had not practiced more hours than I slept.

It was my turn.

They moved the microphone in front of me and I saw Dacia moving through the audience to stand in front of the stage. They would get know her for what she was.

The Dealmaker's Devil-woman.

"So I guess I should start with my name like everyone else has," I said into the mike. My voice was flat; my soul removing itself from the places it was not needed.

"You would know me as David. But my guitar and the music gave me another name a long time ago." I touched the strings and they sang agreement that David was not our name. Dacia's hips had been waiting for that first touch and swayed in counterpoint. The audience leaned forward as the Devil-woman called them. Their eyes watched her, but their souls opened for my guitar, the music, and me.

I pulled the timer out of my pocket, set it for fifteen minutes, and put it beside my foot. It was longer than everyone else had taken, but they would not stop me. No one ever had.

"I was in the bayou; still a teen, barely a man." The strings danced in memory of being younger. "I played a backwater club, a roadhouse built of smoke and blues. Hope had never been a part of that place, but on Friday nights the people wanted you to set them free."

It was my electric so we could wail the way we had that night even without the others as backup. Their desire to be freed set me loose among them and the clock ticked on. It was the first time in my life I ever put my guitar down without the timer.

"I went there to learn or maybe because the legend of the crossroads started there with them."

Dacia was moving, and their eyes followed her; male/female, it did not matter. She was desire made flesh, and they wanted her to set them free just like the hopeless ones that only had smoke and blues.

"An old woman came up to me afterwards and said 'Child, you done remade all my heartstrings, so you could break them yourself.'"

Dacia stopped so their conscious mind could hear what I was about to tell them.

"She sat with me that night and helped me write about her life. Some of you might have felt a small part of her pain or her happiness but nobody here will live it all. At least, God please, I hope you don't."

The words were barely a whisper but they had turned their eyes from Dacia to me.

"She did not come back the next night; her daughter, an old woman in her own right, said she did not need to anymore."

"I went down to the crossroads to meet the Dealmaker. I also met an old woman whose life gave my guitar and the music voice enough to name me."

My fingers stopped moving, a pause before the old woman spoke through us again.

"She named me Stringbreaker and I give you a taste of the old woman as a way to thank her."

Music is not well described in words, beautiful, rich, fulfilling, majestic. A picture is worth a thousand words means that a thousand words describe a picture. How many words would it take to describe a feeling? A song can make you feel it again.

We told them about the pain of a girl's first time, rape, and when he came, not believing how much she loved that child. How she was raped again when that son was lynched by the insecurities of white men, and the joy as a young swelling girl said he had been the father. A part of him lived in the eyes of her great-great grandchildren and she had to hold back tears every time the light touched them the right way.

Dacia danced, a Devil-woman keeping their eyes busy so their souls would remember an old woman who had suffered and touched happiness anyway.

Minutes of my touching the strings have been spent trying to find the unity among my guitar, the music, and who I am. Minutes of the touching are nothing among the three of us. Minutes of the touching are trying to hold on as we are sucked away from each other.

The timer went off and it broke through to all of us.

I put my guitar in its case and the timer in my pocket. There was anger in the eyes of one of the men on stage as I turned to leave.

"Have you ever been happy?" I asked him.

He looked confused but nodded his head.

"When?" I asked.

"The day I married, when my baby girl came, a lot of times," he replied.

"I gave up everything at the crossroads," I told him. "Would you?"

He shook his head and looked away.

"And you're angry: because you play your guitar and I became mine."

I walked away from all of them.

-----

She did not need to ring the doorbell; she had not given back the key I gave her when she was with me. I was waiting for her, naked on my bed.

She smiled as she walked in and took off her clothes. She did it slowly; letting me enjoy the caresses her hands gave her body as the clothing fell.

Dacia had changed herself a little; there were teasers to suggest what was beneath. Her brown hair now had blonde highlights to make her tresses seem more like a halo. The sun loved the touches of blonde when her pictures were captured outside. I followed her career in the magazines and the websites. The pictures of her in the fading sun were my favorite. Her body had tightened to fill the mold of the fitness model rather than the form of the swimsuit vamp. I liked that change greatly.

She stood in a pose that she knew I hated. Photographers liked her with her mouth open from the start, even before she flew to California to work. Every time I saw a picture of her like that, I wanted to make her kneel in front of me and shove my hard cock into her mouth until I was in her throat with her breath warming my pubic hair. She smiled at me as her eyes dared me to do exactly that.

It had been too long for that dare to be ignored.

I surged from the bed and our lips met questing for control. She gave ground as she had intended in the face of my hunger. I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed down. She went willingly and I grabbed two handfuls of her hair. She held her mouth open for me as I moved forward with my hips. My dick knew where it had to go and it unerringly entered her mouth. I moved my hips towards her and she accepted me into her throat. It was not comfortable for her especially since I was harder than I had been for a long time. However, she took it as her due, my hardness, my need, and my fight for control to stop myself from fucking her mouth with no thought to her.

I moved back until I was almost out of her mouth. She closed her lips around my dickhead and used her tongue to paint it with moisture. I moved into her slowly while she continued her efforts to lubricate me.

"I can't, Dacia. I just can't," I panted as I pulled out of her mouth.

I reached down to touch her hands and I pulled her up. I turned her around and guided her to the bed. I pushed her upper body down on it so that her ass was presented to me. I grabbed her ass cheeks to look at her treasure. She was completely shaved which was another new thing. It added throb to my cock as it waited for her warmth to surround us.

I put one foot on the bed knowing it let me thrust into her harder and deeper than any other position. She stretched her hands above her head and pointed her pussy at my dick begging me to take her.

I moved forward and slid to a stop partway into her. She was tight and I knew instinctively that no man had been inside her since our last night together. My chest swelled and my eyes lost focus at the thought. She grunted and pushed back against me trying to get me deeper inside her. I pulled back, grabbed her hips, and insisted that her body take me in as I pushed into her solidly. She sighed in a small orgasm as my pubic hair tickled her ass.

It had been too long, but the sensations of reality mirrored those of the memories that had assaulted me during that too long. She did not squeeze me; her body loved my length. I held inside her awaiting the reaction her body had always given me. I pulled back on her hips to stay seated completely in her. I could not hold out long but this was Dacia and I knew there would be no need to.

It started with the recovery from her small orgasm as the act was rejoined. She dropped her head to the bed and pushed her ass back at me. It opened her the smallest bit offering up her body's last concession to my penetration. She grunted as her body got what it craved. We stood still for seconds as she recovered her lost breath. Her body could not take the tension though, and she started to rock her hips up and down. It was the motion I had been waiting for. I took my hands away from her hips and pushed my pelvis to her preventing her from getting too much friction. She continued the motion but the only sensation she could get was rubbing my cockhead against the wall of her depth. She squealed as I forced her body to remember what this did to us. Her breathing became harsh and so did mine as the rubbing affected me like never before. She felt me expand and harden that extra bit that screamed out how long I had been dispossessed. She pushed back and the motion of her hips became more frantic as her body's instincts told her we could come together.

She might have been with the blonde but I was the first cock in her in eighteen months. The feel of her around me and her being spread for the first time in months caused the orgasm to come to us suddenly as if it had been building behind the dam that distance created between us.

We erupted.

My entire body clenched and I screamed from my release. At the same moment, she cried out my name into the bed and bore down on my dick with the all the strength of her body. It would have been painful had I not been a steel rod of flesh inside her. She released me as her body felt the first hot flood I ejected. Her pussy gripped me tightly again to stimulate a second hot spraying of myself into her. She released me only to bear down a third time, my body tried to feed her need but it felt like I was passing lead as her pussy wrung my dick free of its cum.

We collapsed onto the floor instead of the bed. I sat on my calves and she sat in my lap. My dick ached and her heat tried to soothe it.

We sat with her head leaning back. She was whispering words that I did not have the strength to understand. It was a long time before she crawled onto the bed. She lay facing me and I watched as the contented slumber of someone who has not rested well in months washed over her. She reached out a hand to touch my face.

"Sing me to sleep," she said as her eyes surrendered to the security she could only get in my bed.

-----

I never liked singing. I did not have the voice strings to match the song of my guitar strings. It seemed a waste to add something for people who could not hear it in the music.

My voice was smoke. My mother had loved it and fought a war against her motherhood because of it, loving my singing while hating my guitar. I sang in Spanish most of the time. English was for Barry Manilow and train rides.

It felt right to sing.

Before California Dacia left in the early morning to her shoots but the room would smell of our passion. We remembered our favorite things in the night and early dawn.

I woke in the middle of the night. I could not see anything but my other senses recognized Dacia. She was on her back with her face to me. She was asleep but was wriggling her body to the beat of a heated dream. I did not wake her yet; I would not have to.

I moved to my knees and opened her legs slowly. I was so hard that I almost believed I had been in her dream. I got between her legs and moved my fingers to her pussy. She was wet, warm, and almost ready. Her legs came up to spread herself for me as her body recognized on the first touch what it was that lay in the darkness. I played a finger up and down the valley of her lips until they thickened as the dream and the reality danced towards each other. I grabbed a leg under her knee and pushed it towards her chest. Her pussy spread its petals to its sun, my dick. I grabbed myself and replaced my fingers up and down her pussy with my dickhead. Her breathing changed as I began to play with the opening of her body with my dick. I stroked her lips up, down, and then gave her opening a kiss with the tip of my dick. I did this several times when on one kiss she stabbed her hips towards me and sank my dickhead into her body. She gasped and began to waken.

I let go of myself, pushed her other leg to her chest spreading her pussy for my dick, and shoved into her hard as her eyes opened. Her arms came up to wrap around my torso, she squeezed me with her arms and pussy as her mouth opened to yell out at the sudden attack of her orgasm. The dream had prepared her well for the reality of my plunge. She recovered from the first desperate grasp at pleasure to scream my name as the orgasm overwhelmed her body. I pulled back a little and pounded into her again, sinking myself as deep into her body as physically possible. Her eyes rolled back as a second orgasm clawed its way into her body through the remains of the first. She lost control of her body and vocal chords; her upper body convulsed and she grunted throughout the second orgasm as it bathed every nerve with pleasure.

She collapsed back on the bed with eyes closed. I pulled back so only the head of my dick was inside her. I pushed down on her legs to spread her pussy even more and drove into her as hard as I could. She arched her upper body in reaction and grunted my name.

It was a long, sweaty climb to my own peak.

In the morning, we showered together. I did not have to get up for her shoot but it felt good be under the stream of hot water with her. She washed my body with soapy hands and I returned the favor. She ended the shower on her knees in front of me attempting to lick my dick dry. It took only five minutes before I dragged her into the bedroom. She got on top of me and rode us both to orgasm with just rotations of her hips.

I fell asleep minutes after her whispered goodbye.

I was singing when she walked into my bedroom; the blonde with waist length locks trailed behind her. Since I was naked, the raised eyebrows of the blonde came as no surprise.

"Should I dress?" I asked her.

"Not if it's going to stop what you're doing," she replied with a smile.

I shook my head as I realized that the humor in her eyes had to be a big reason Dacia liked her.

I started the song from the beginning. Neither understood the words but they sat down on the floor in front of my chair to listen. I blended it with a second song, then a third. At the end of the fourth song, the blonde moved to take my guitar out of my hands. She passed it to Dacia who placed it lovingly back in its case. The blonde pushed my upper body back in the chair and moved her face to my groin. She licked up my soft length once before putting her hands under my knees and pulling at me to move my ass to the edge of the chair. She took my dick into her mouth and sucked on me as if she could get her life's blood from me.

"I don't even know your name," I said as I rolled my head back. She was better at sucking my dick than Dacia who was the best I could imagine. I pushed my hips up and she let me lodge in her throat as I hardened.

"Her name is Elizabeth," Dacia answered for her. My dick gave her its own name, "Elizabeth The Great", when in record time I came down her throat. She sucked me dry of everything I had to give and put forth a fantastic oral argument that there should have been more. Every time I tried to pull her off she would suck and lick just the head of my dick. Finally, Dacia had to rescue me from her post-orgasm handling.

Elizabeth whined a complaint but Dacia's lips stopped any other sound from escaping. Dacia searched Elizabeth's mouth diligently with her own for any remnants of my cum. They ended up on the floor with Dacia mounted as the search for my cum became foreplay.

I pulled Dacia from Elizabeth to whining complaints from both women.

"Food first ladies, fucking later." They stared at me hungrily. "Okay, a lot of fucking later."

Elizabeth was like a prism refracting the light that bounced back and forth between Dacia and I. Elizabeth casually asked questions that Dacia had not been able to ask in all of the two years we were together. Elizabeth wanted to know things about people in the same way a touchy-feely person has to touch someone. Because it was in her nature, her questions did not feel invasive. She made me feel comfortable enough to ask my own questions of her and Dacia.

"The old woman was raped, wasn't she?" Elizabeth's tone of voice made it a statement not a question.

I nodded.

"Tell me about it," she whispered. Dacia looked down at her dessert plate as if she knew what this was about.

I told Elizabeth what the old woman had told me. It was in her eyes that the pain in the music had meshed with something inside of her. Other women had heard that particular piece before. It was as if the old woman possessed me and in my eyes they recognized the violent identity change a man had caused.