Luna Zax's Story Blog

A collection of my stories and other erotic thoughts…. please enjoy…

Exhilaration

Posted by Luna on February 4, 2010


I usually always write stories on the actual blog site, for safety purposes.  So that any story I write is saved and captured, because sometimes I write stories and I am so engrossed in the telling that I forget to save the document.  The blog sites typically save stuff automatically.  So I wrote this story a few weeks ago, and did not save it, and of course, a blue screen of death took the original content with it. 

This is my recreation of that story.  The story is inspired by happenings that I witnessed when I was younger.  Someone feeling the exhilaration of a performance (acting, singing, playing instrument, etc), and the feelings after the performance is complete, then meets someone who they have been attracted to for quite sometime, and yet have never gone past flirting. As to why this has not happened, in my head there is a vague tabooness to the relationship, that I leave upto the reader to determine.  Feel free to choose what ever erotic pairing gives you pleasure.  This is an imagining of a young inexperienced girl who meets up with the wrong lover at the right time.

One final note, the story may give the reader an impression of virginity for the female protagonist.  When writing, I was trying to stress her inexperience both emotionally and physically, but not necessarily true innocence and virginity.  I hope that comes through.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Luna Zax

Exhilaration
By LunaZax
story codes (Mf)

Disclaimer: The following story is intended for an adult audience and contains sexually explicit material.  If you do not wish to read this type of material, if you are under age, or if reading this story violates the local laws, you should not read this story.  
 

The dress looked good on me, yet I didn’t recognize the person in the mirror.  The off-red lipstick, the makeup, the dark burgundy red dress, the black heels, and my hair wore up…  I barely recognized her. 

The butterflies fluttered in my stomach, in anticipation of the day.  I never had sought out the spotlight, but to shy away from it, never testing yourself, never letting yourself be what maybe you could be… Despite the butterflies and despite my fear, I couldn’t do that…  I needed to know… know what I could do when pushed to do it. 

It seemed to me that the trick is to just throw yourself into it.  Don’t think too much about it, and just do what you have done when the spotlight was not on.  Not a secret, not a surprise, but doing it… not just saying or thinking it, but actually doing it… that is definitely the trick. 

Ready as I ever will be, I follow the others onto the stage being very nervous… yet anxious to get started… knowing that once it starts then there’s no backing out, there’s no choice but to do my best, and fight that feeling of embarrassment, allowing the potential of failure to push me forward and perform. 

The lights go up and our performance commences. 

It is good.  It’s one of those intoxicating days where we hit our marks well.  One typical mistake and two new mistakes mar the performance for those of us in the know, but we all can tell that the audience is oblivious to it.  The warmth of community, the rapture of shared performance tingles through my body… I hold off from enjoyment, as it will disrupt what I need to do, but I know that later I will love this very moment. 

And then the fear hits again, as my moment approaches.  The moment where, very briefly, my support falls away, and I stand revealed, alone and solo for the audience.  I push the fear away, and try not to think about it.

The moment arrives, and I step into the spotlight.  I am totally unaware of what I am doing… only aware of the fact that I am doing it.  I embrace the performance as something I have done 100 times, that I have practiced 100 times, that I have prepared for 100 times.  I feel it build in me, and I perform… I deliver… and I express my creation and gift to the audience. 

And my moment over… I step back from the spotlight and rejoin the company, allowing others to have their turn in the spotlight.  The nervous intoxication has changed to success intoxication.  I feel light-headed.  I feel giddy.  I feel warm and pleasure filled up and down my spine.  The rapture of shared performance engulfing me in emotions I have rarely felt. 

Breathing heavy, I finally allow myself to look at the audience.  The crowd is a cacophony of the old and the young, few people who match the age of the young performers.

Then I notice him.

He stood out.  In my mind, he always stood out.  But today he intentionally stood out.  Dressed a little nicer than everyone else.  His age making him unique, falling between the youthful and the weathered.  Sitting in an area to the sides, where he most likely would be noticed.  No one would notice the difference in him sitting in the audience, but he stood out to me, clear as if the spotlight was shining on him.

I try to pull my focus and concentration back in. If you’ve never been on stage, you may not understand.  First off, there’s the stage lights which pretty much blurs the faces of the audience, allowing you to be in a cocoon. That’s the physical.  Then there’s the mental: Noticing someone in the crowd can break the spell of performance.  On stage, I am a singer, I am a performer, I am an actor, I am an instrument.  I am no longer myself.  I am self-conscious.  I am aware of who I am, and who I am not.

I give into fear for just a moment, and remember that the others are counting on me.  I return to the safety and sanctity of the group.  I become one with them, rejoining the collective as a single voice, as a single chord.  Inwardly my mind races.  What is he doing here?  Both of us, no longer in our traditional elements or surroundings.  And there was no denying the fact that he was here to see me.  There was no other explanation.  There was no alternative theory.  Neither of us could play upon the pretense of coincidence or circumstances. Joking and teasing fades.  Truth remains.

He was here to see me.

My heart beat faster and faster inside my dress.  It felt like its thumping would reverberate throughout my body evident to the crowd. 

The performance ends, and the appreciation flows from the audience onto the stage, and we bow humbly acknowledging their pproval, even though the bow is just as rehearsed as the performance.  I grab hands of my fellow performers, awash in emotion.  We get backstage, and I embrace my friends, as was our custom following the performance.  But, I am unable to hear the praise from my friends, as my heart is racing.  I am afraid.

Before now, there had always been excuses to say no.  It was easy.  Despite the teasing and flirting from both of us, the situation, the circumstances, the timing, the evidence… were all natural barriers in the way.  A playful what if for the mind, in times of loneliness. 

Those barriers were fallen by the wayside.  I would have to make a decision, no longer able to hide behind their safety.

My friends grab my hands and we head out to see friends and relatives who have come to see them.  I force myself to stay close to my friends, knowing that he will find me. 

I leave with them, and we reveal, introduce, embrace, and receive gratification from the audience who has come to see us.  I feel fate toying with me, as I do not see him in the initial throng of people who approach us. 

A hand touches my bare shoulder from my blind side.  I smell his cologne before I even look to see that it’s him, as I close my eyes a scant second and breathe in his scent.  I turn to look at him.  He’s there in a black suit, looking very natural and professional at the same time.  He greets me and hands me a hidden bouquet of white lilies, which he knows are my favorites.  I sigh.

I smell the flowers, and I feel my inhibitions crumble.  He offers his hand, and I take it willingly, as he leads me from the throng.

***

He leads me to someplace private.  My head is warm and swimming.  Regardless of everything I feel safe.

He compliments me again, and the blush creeps up my face, and my skin is covered in goosebumps.  He kisses the back of my hand, and I don’t pull away. 

And he notices…

He leans in and kisses my cheek.  I blush, but I don’t pull away. 

And he notices…

He moves in and kisses my mouth.  It is a peck, with just a hint of a little more.  I don’t react quite… I am stunned.  It is so different from my peers:  The hard scruffiness of his face that belies that this is no developing boy; His size seems so large, despite knowing and dating guys who are taller than him, yet I seem so small compared to him, so fragile;  He is so adult, and I feel like such a child. 

He comes back in for a second kiss, naturally, not forcing like the immaturity who have kissed me before.  My lips part, just slightly. 

And he notices…

He kisses a third time lingering on my lips.  My body instinctively knows the question that he is asking, and my neck leans back with just the slightest hint of invitation. 

And he notices…

His lips touch my skin on my neck, and I shiver from head to toe.  My shoulders fall, as I completely and willingly give into his control of the situation.  He notices, and so would anyone else.

My neck is on fire, as his strong hands wrap around my body daring to touch my back in an intimate way.  I’ve fantasized about his hands, as they make their way up and down my back.  He kisses back to my lips, and I fully respond to his mouth, our tongues meeting in full desire.  My body is already electric.

He kisses back to my neck, and a moan softly escapes my lips, surprising me.  I have never been this out of control before.  It does not match the stories of love and lust that I have read, but I at least understand their true origins for perhaps the first time.  The amateur pawing of my previous partners has never caused this reaction in me. 

I turn away from him, letting him follow my pleasure to the rest of my neck.  He turns me around and kisses my neck from behind, as his fingers unhook the top of my dress in the back and slowly unzips it.  He helps it off my shoulders.  My black bra is revealed to him, covering my small breasts.  His arms go under mine and take my breasts in his hands.  My nipples scream under the lace, rising to the surface.

The dress falls to the floor, and is quickly followed by the white slip that sheds the last of my modesty.  I stand in my underwear and hose.  I am totally exposed and totally revealed, in front of him, no less.  How often, I was hiding my body.  How often, I was teasing a look of me.  And now I was revealed, practically naked for him.

He kissed me and ran his fingers through my hair.  My skin was on fire.  I stood away from him for a moment. 

He was puzzled for a moment.  He had been in control for the entire day, and this moment was the most unexpected.  He looked in my face, looking for rejection, but found none.  My need was strong.  I loved him being in control… teaching me…. daring to initiate what I never could.  However, I could not let him believe that I was just a bystander.  

I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra, letting it fall to the floor.  My breasts revealed to him for the first time.  He looked at them in loving appreciation.  I then pushed my panties off of my hips, and let them fall to the floor as well.  I was naked, completely naked… more naked than I had ever allowed myself to be for someone else. 

And I was as guilty as he, and I wanted to be guilty.

He smiled and moved towards me.  Feeling accepted, I awaited his touch.  He embraces me, and kisses me, running his hands on the intimate parts of my body, my hips, my sides, the top of my ass.  He gently guides me backwards, and I fall onto my back. 

His mouth is on my breasts, and I feel my nipples respond…. My body reacts as designed, and I feel pleasure already through my body.  It is a pleasure that I have felt when I’ve been alone.  But I have never felt this way with someone else.

Let me correct that, I’ve never allowed myself to feel this way with someone else.  I’ve never wanted anyone this badly.

His hands run through the hair between my legs.  He seems to delight in it, tho I am almost ashamed at its naturalness.  His fingers find my wetness and tease me a moment.  I normally delight at touch, but it seemed too juvenile to me at the moment.  Scaring myself with my forwardness, I ran my fingers along the front of his pants. 

He removed his pants and his underwear and stood revealed to me.

Men’s genitals have seldom filled me with sexual desire, before or since.  And my soon-to-be lovers was no different… the difference was him.  We were not fooling around, we weren’t just messing about, and we weren’t experimenting. 

We were going to make love.

We were going to fuck.

His cock was thick and very hairy.  He was hairy, and so much bigger than me, and I needed him to be that.

I started to unbutton his shirt, and then sank to my knees and started kissing his member.  His penis was large, and was not pleasant and enjoyable, but I needed to do it.  I am not sure why.  My mouth engulfed his thickness and his hair covered my smooth face, as he fully undressed.

He laid me back and my legs were spread.  I sat open for him, waiting for him, wanting him.  I felt the tip of his member slide along my opening, and pushing against, asking for entrance, and (as much as I could control it) I allowed it inside.  Much wider than anything I had allowed, and much more adept and purpose filled than my previous experiences.  It pushed and pulled inside me, filled me in delightful and devastating ways. 

He pushed deeper inside of me, in a loving but forceful way, and I spread open, wanting it and wanting more, even though my body cried in distress.  He was large against me.  He was brutal against any remaining virginity I had.  He took me.  I felt my body grab his shaft, and squeeze.  I felt the pleasure within me, slide along with his sex, as I crashed against him. 

I felt the stirrings of pleasure within me.  My back arched as a wave hit me. 

He spun me around, so I was on my knees taking his cock from behind.  He started fucking me and slamming his cock into my cunt from behind.  Yes, my cunt… no longer any euphemisms…  I was his, and I was being fucked like a dog.  A small wave of pleasure hit me as he pushed deeper inside me.  I howled in pleasure, as the infiltration continued, sliding along my inner skin.

He continued his attack, and my body responded in kind, gripping him and taunting his pleasure as well.  I felt him stiffen and attempt to pull from me.  And I leaned back onto him, taking his cock deep inside me, feeling the seed spurt inside my warmth.  His cock exploded inside my body, and I started to shake from the pleasure within. 

He kept pushing into me… despite his pleasure being satisfied…  Wanting me to experience the rapture…

He succeeded, as I clenched around his body, and pulled him into me.  My pleasure was strong and nice.  The intensity did not match the situation, but there was almost no way it couldn’t.

Overcome by everything, everything that had happened, everything that had been realized, and everything that had been lost… I turned and pulled my lover onto me, his role in my life forever changed, and I wept into him.  Small silent cry and tiny tear drops falling onto my soft body.  We lay like that for an eternity, that seemed far too short.  I loved every minute of it, despite my vulnerability and my emotions.

I wanted to stay in that moment, where it was just the two of us.  Where the feelings and relationships of other people would not affect us.  Where the awkwardness and the taboos were not exposed.

Eventually, we dressed and began our exodus back to the real world, unsure of how things were to play out, and what the future held.

Luna Zax

6 Responses to “Exhilaration”

  1. Jim said

    Some of my most intense sexual pleasure have cum after productions that were 2 incredible to describe. Wanting to continue the excitement off stage I think is one of the reasons this happens. Very, very good story. You captured it beautifully.

  2. Robert Fleming (Cole Riley) said

    I’m editing a collection of erotic stories for a Scottish publisher. I would love to use this story about sexual fever after a stage show. Can you consider my usage of the story? It would be appreciated.

    Cole Riley (RF)

    Please reply. Thank you.

  3. nightman1 said

    It was delightful to read about this encounter as told by the girl. As your friend Couer Minuit says on his site, you give a very strong, clear sense of how a woman feels when she has sex. It is far more emotional than the equivalent scene as depicted by all but a few male storytellers.

    Just fascinating.

  4. minako said

    all i can say is “wow”…

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