This story was adapted from a chat play between myself and an anonymous partner.
We’ve made arrangements by email to do this. I slip backstage as I know most of the staff at the Funky Underground by name. It’s a second home for me and the soundman doesn’t bat an eye as I pass him and head down the dingy hallway. Peeking in the room I see my interview and step inside.
“Hey,” I say, my dark eyes wide and shining, chol rimmed in Egyptian style and shadowed in violet. My skin is light brown and my hair is black, undercut and pulled back, a small bundle of dreads trailing. I’m 5-ft-3 but a bit taller with my platform strap boots. I’m wearing a cotton mini dress, black, off the shoulders and clingy to my small chest and wider hips. My nose is pointy and has a silver hoop in the left lobe. A matching hoop is in my brow. Silver daggers hang from my ears on tiny chains with multiple studs above. I have my favorite skull embossed bangles on my wrists and my faded tattered jean jacket currently pushed off of one shoulder. My legs are bare from the short hem of the dress to the tops of my boots and most of the sorceress inked onto my thigh is visible. “I’m Jaz,” I greet him, raising my bottle of Stella. “Great show guys! I’m here for the interview.”
“Fuuuckk,” he moans out loud as he runs a hand through his sweaty blonde curls. Christian is sprawled back on the old dingy sofa in a black Nike tee and long shorts and has stud through his septum. The other two members of the trio, Dave and Andy, are milling about with a couple of other local girls and don’t seem to pay us much mind. Christian tugs the sweaty t-shirt upwards showing off the pale flesh of his trim abs. “Hey Jaz, we have an after party if you just wanna do a quick one here?” he calls to me. “Or follow us through the night? It’s up to you,” he offers as he leans forward to shake my hand. Then he grabs a water bottle.
“Yeah, party at Sly’s,” I confirm. “At least until Sly’s neighbors call the cops.” I take another sip of my beer, adding to my high. I did a bunch of E before the show and it probably shows in my eyes. “We can go there but we should go before it gets too full.”
“Damn, how did you know?” he asks somewhat surprised. “Yeah, I mean I understand that but he won’t not let us in. We just headlined,” he laughs. “This can be like your night with the hottest band in the world… give or take five years,” he adds as he downs his water.” I can only smirk at his remark, ‘hottest band in the world’. That is some ego. “Let’s just go in five minutes. We can start here and then go?”
“This is Seattle. This is my scene,” I tell him. “I know everything. I know everyone here, including Sly. He’s my homey,” I wink. “Five minutes it is. I can finish this,” I say as I take another swig. “Although I could sneak it out too, hah.”
“Yeah, I mean I never even been out on the west coast until like five hours ago so yeah, I’ll delegate to you,” he says. He sounds a bit fucked up. It’s rock and roll. “Just bring it, wait was it? We can split it if you don’t wanna finish?”
“Fuck it,” I say and toss my head back as I pour the rest of the beer down my throat. A dribble runs from the corner of my mouth at the end. I wipe it with my finger and laugh. “Haha, so ladylike, I know.” Christian’s eyes widen as he watches me chug. He seems impressed. Then I put the empty down, adding it to the haphazard collection on the end table.
“Wow remember how the grinch’s heart grew?” he laughs. “Mine just did too.”
“So, ready to meet Sly?” I ask.
“Sure Jaz, I’m ready to go,” he says. He stands up, grabs another water and a beer, stuffing the beer in his back pocket. “Water’s really my biggest vice besides beer and some dab pens,” he says. “I’m always buying it. It’s terrible for the environment but we can’t drink the water where we live. You can write that down,” tells me as he holds out his hand. We’re getting friendly already.
“All right then,” I say with a sparkle in my eye. I turn and lead him out by the hand, my shoulder nearly bumping the doorway as that last swig kinda hits my bloodstream. I make a left and head back up the hall the way that I came, brofisting with the soundman and waving to the bouncer Drake.
“Found one?” Drake asks with a wink.
“Goin’ to Sly’s,” I tell him and head to the front door. We file out behind the exiting crowd and into the street and I give my jacket a flap letting the night air lick the perspiration from my skin. A car has to slow for us as we jaywalk to the other side and into Sly’s building, the people before us holding the door open. It’s an older building and the elevator is slow and full so we take the stairs to the third floor. From there we follow the sound and PGMG is playing on Sly’s turntable as we walk in. There are already twenty or thirty people jammed in here. “Sly!” I say as I put my free arm around him. He’s 6-ft-5 and has a huge fro.
“Sup Jaz?” he greets us as he hands both of us a Rainier and gives Christian a nod.
“Hey Sly. I’m Christian. I just headlined tonight, the drummer from Stuck in Japan. I think someone from the label invited us. I don’t know. I was just told to come here. It’s a nice place,” says my interview as he reaches out to bump knuckles. I can see Christian’s eyes checking out all the other girls.
“There no invites, just come brothah,” Sly says in his easy tone. “I saw the show. Cheers,” he says and clinks his bottle to Christian’s.
“Cheers,” I join in. Then Sly moves on as he greets more people at the door. Once he’s gone, Christian turns to me.
“So Jaz, where do you want to do this interview?” he asks.
“Let’s try the balcony,” I say. “Probably the only place quiet enough.” Then I lead him between the bodies across the room. The ceiling is lined with holiday lights in funky colors all glowing bright and dimming again. Stepping through the sliding glass door, we’re on the little balcony. There are three people on the other end passing a joint. Down below we see the club across the street. I take out my phone/camera to get ready for the interview while Christian indulgently inhales the second-hand smoke. Someone from inside the room calls out to him and he shouts back.
“Should I just start and introduce myself or?” he asks me.
“I gotta frame up,” I tell him. “You look great right there except that you’re backlit. You’re basically a shadow on the camera,” I explain. “You’ll have to stand against the wall under the lamp,” I wave him over to the left. Then I move the lone patio table into position as it will end up as a tripod. Phone in my hands, I start recording with a shot of the club below. The video goes like this.
People are milling about on the sidewalk, smoking and criss-crossing the wide street between the sparse traffic. The music and voices of Sly’s party behind me are humming in the background.
“Hey, this is HardCoreJaz with Christian Rheun from Stuck in Japan who just played a sweaty set at the Funky Underground. We’re just across the street at Sly’s,” I begin. Then I pan the camera over to Tristan, standing dishevelled and smiling against the side wall of the patio and set it down carefully on the table, it’s case folding into a prop-up. The picture is a bit jiggly as I do this. “Is that how you pronounce it? Rune?” I ask him. He has a pensive look.
“Um, it’s Run,” he corrects me with a wink and runs his fingers through his thick blonde tangles. Suddenly Mr Rock Star seems a bit camera shy. “Do I look good?” he asks, his eyes looking above the frame to me behind the table, then follow me around to his side.
“Don’t be shy,” I tease him as I join him in the frame now that my hands are free. I lean back against the wall and rub my shoulder into his arm rather playfully as I clink bottles with him. Silver titles with a black shade appear beneath across the bottom of the screen: “CHRISTIAN RHEUN – Stuck in Japan / HardCoreJaz”. Then I look into the camera. “So if you’ve never heard of these guys you’ve basically been on a desert island for the past six months. Either that or you just aint cool,” I explain. “Christian is the drummer and main songwriter producer, yadayada.” I turn to him. “Did I get that all right?” I ask.
“Everything,” he confirms. “I make the music, compose it and with any electronic stuff I do all that.” At that point there’s some off camera ribbing as the other two band members snicker to try to distract Christian. He seems unfazed as he gazes down into my eyes.
“So first question,” I pose. “What’s it like to be Stuck in Japan?” I ask with a clever wink. Christian laughs before answering.
“God, y-you sound like my… my grandparents when I told them the name,” he sputters. “I mean… it’s all right. It’s a good time I think,” he says as my arm slips behind him to curl around his waist as I cozy up before the next question.
“So you’ve been together for two years. How did you guys meet?”
“Well, I knew Dave since junior year of high school and met Andy freshman year in my first dorm when I was making garage band mixes and then we just kinda said ‘let’s try out a band’ and add some of my mixing skills and we just blew up from there,” he explains as his arm reciprocates around my shoulders. He smiles down at me and takes another pull from his beer.
“And that was in New York, right?” I follow up. “Which college?”
“Yeah, New York, New Jersey area, but a lot of days spent in central Jersey hanging out until college which was NYU and then it was a bit of the city and a lot of time in The Bronx,” he relates. “I like flavor, ya know?” he smiles and laughs, getting more comfortable with the camera.
“So the three of you have been doing this for two years now and you don’t hate each other yet?” I smirk. My fingertips give him a little squeeze around his waist while I drink some more listening to his answer and watching his face intently.
“Yeah, no not at all I, think we keep a good distance and we, ya know, like hanging out but we’re also only two albums in so…” he shrugs and laughs again after flinching from my little affectionate squeeze had caught him off guard. Reaching out, I put my bottle down on the table next to the camera. It sits just on the edge of the frame but being so close to the lens it’s a dark brown blur. Now with my hand free I reach up to run my fingers through his unruly bangs, sweeping them aside to see his young blushing face better. His locks are drying but the roots are still wet on my fingertips.
“I like your hair. You have nice hair,” I say, then laugh quietly. A drunken grin slowly parts his lips.
“I like yours too,” he says. “It’s really soft.” Then his hands tease up to my bundle and trace down it’s length to my lower back. “You can touch it Jaz. It feels really good,” he says with a bit of a slur as his hands creep down towards my ass.
“Haha,” I laugh playfully as I take the elastic out and shake my hair loose, my drunk body wavering against his, my small breast nudging into his ribs. “Next question,” I put things back on track. “Like the show was tonight, your music is high energy with a definite urban streak,” I set it up. His body pushes up against me and we jostle on our inebriated legs. He looks back to the camera, definitely losing his stagefright. The curl of his fingers can be seen around my lower back. “Some of it reminds me of Beastie Boys actually. Much of it is danceable but it’s definitely not mainstream. How would you describe your sound?”
“Oh man, I’d actually go… way more modern,” he exaggerates, the booze talking now. “Infectious energy like Lil Uzi and maybe some 1975, and Vampire Weekend but wayyy less preppy,” he laughs and inhales more second-hand weed. My eyes actually blinks with a hint of sting from the cloud wafting our way. Unseen behind the camera, someone leaves the patio and a couple more join in.
“Hey Jaz,” someone calls out to me. For the record, it’s a friend of mine named CJ who plays bass in a local band called Landshark.
“Hey,” I smile back.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asks.
“I’m doing an interview,” I shoo him away with a laugh.
“Interview?”
“Yes, shhh,” I shush him and return my attention to Christian. “So your first album was 2016 Dreams,” I say. “What’s the significance of the date November 6th?” He looks at me, furrowing his brow in inquisition. He’s not expecting this question as I reference the title of one of his songs.
“Yea uh,” he chuckles briefly while forming his answer. “We made that in 2018,” he starts and then pauses again in drunken thought. “We just all missed 2016 like that was a transformative year, ya know?” he says and then finishes off the last of her beer and carelessly plunks the empty bottle on the table. My eyes widen in apprehension as I watch it teeter and wobble, hoping that it doesn’t bump the camera, but it manages to settle standing up near the edge on the left side of the frame. “And God, November 6th was like the end of the era,” Christian continues. “The fucking idiot got elected and it’s been terrible since, so it’s like the turning point of the album too,” he says as his arm wraps around my waist. The camera shows the ends of his fingers curling around my ass.
“Fuck, sorry Jaz,” he says but his smile isn’t so apologetic.
“It’s okay,” I say softly as I reach my other arm up across his shoulder and my lips inch closer to his. He bites his lip.
“I must be drunk but your eyes are so pretty. They’re like diamonds,” he says quietly. It’s meant as a compliment, obviously. I rise to my tiptoes and wrap both of arms up and around his neck to press my lips to his mouth, my drunken stance leaning against him and crushing my little chest into his. He pulls me in and we kiss, slowly and sweetly, stroking tongues on one another’s. When our lips part, he holds my face in his hands. “Fuck, that was nice,” his voice trails off before he indulges in a second kiss and my mouth opens wide in invitation.
“I thought it was an interview,” CJ calls out again from off camera. I take one hand from Christian’s neck and give him a playful middle finger without breaking the kiss.
“He’s right, we should keep interviewing,” Christian stops to speak. “I think we’re just drunk,” he adds as he stares into my eyes, captivated. He leans back against the wall with his hand firmly planted on my booty and I nuzzle in. “So next question right?”
“Next question,” I smile broadly. “So the next album was Abducted and picked up where the first one left off. Was there a social commentary in the title or are you just into the whole sci-fi thing?”
“I, hmm.,” he struggles to compose his response. He seems distracted by my little body in his hands. “It’s more of an we’re abducted by fame and we have a lot sci-fi references in our music too,” he grins.
“Well, the band’s popularity has certainly exploded in the past few months,” I remark. “You’ve been touring a lot, if you check the dates on your website. Maybe mention some of the places you’ve been since the record came out?” I suggest as I lean into him again, my arm tightening around his waist.
“Uh yes, of course… we can,” he continues to struggle. His words are slurring with drink. “We’ve mostly been in the east coast. My favorite spot so far has been Florida. I love Orlando and I think we’re gonna record there next,” he says.
“Oh really?” my eyes light up for this big scoop for my blog. “In Orlando. Is there someone that you’re going to record with?”
“Mickey,” he jokes. “No, I’m not sure. I don’t really like features besides singles?” he answers with trepidation. He has misunderstood the question. “I just think I’m ready to go all out with this one,” he smiles.
“So you’re just going to continue to self produce?” I pose, clarifying my line of query. A couple more people join the balcony off camera, adding to the background chatter.
“Yeah, I mean… if there’s someone who can make nice synths and like want to stick to our vision then sure, but overall I feel comfortable in going down there,” he explains as his hand palms my back. “It’s a really nice spot, hot girls, fun, tourism. It’s a great place to be single young and a rock star,” he elaborates. Then his tone changes as he senses the party encroaching upon us. “Hey, should we move?” he asks.
“We could take this somewhere else, yeah,” I nod with a bashful grin. “You think?”
“Yeah, lead the way. I just want you to have a good interview,” he says.
Just then someone bumps the table and it rocks. The picture slants and pans as the camera slides nearly off the edge and my beer bottle topples and rolls off. A wet clompshh is heard as it smashes and spatters on the concrete.
“Shit,” I say and grab my camera. “All right, we’re just going change venues and continue on with Christian Rheun, young single rock star, hahaa, of Stuck in Japan,” I say into the lens and then hit pause.
The video stops. Taking his hand I head for the patio door.
“What about the interview?” CJ calls.
“I think they’re makin’ a porn,” says another voice in the dark. I flip two fingers, English punk style in their direction and step back into the party. It’s loud and crowded now. We have to slip between the bodies as we make our way to the front door, nearly stumbling into the hall.
“We gotta find a spot,” I say looking up and down the hall.
“Well, we can go anywhere? Back to the bus?” he suggests. “Also, those dudes fucking suck,” he laughs. “They need to just let you work.
“Hey, it’s a party,” I shrug. “What do I expect?” Then I head for the elevator. “Back to your bus?” I shrug again. “Sounds good to me.” The elevator opens and four more partiers filter out, dressed in leather and smelling like weed. “Shall we?”
“Yeah, of course,” Christian says as he barges through the disembarking quartet. Once alone in the elevator, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me close for a kiss. I fumble with the flap on the front pocket of my jean jacket trying to slip my phone inside with one hand while my other wraps around him and my lips press to his. Eventually I succeed, freeing up both arms to hold him and tilt my head back to open wide and take his tongue fully inside my mouth. My back thumps against the wall and the doors close. One of us is going to have to push the button, I suppose but I have other priorities, namely his body crushed up against mine while we snog drunkenly. Then the elevator begins to descend as someone pushed the call button from below. Christian has me pinned to the wall and two handfuls of my booty as the elevator jerks to a halt, kinking my knees. The bell softly dings and the doors glide open to the busy chatter of the lobby. When the crowd sees us they begin to hoot and cheer us on as they pile in. Phones come out for pictures. We’ve created a scene and I chuckle, half-blushing.
“All right Christian!” someone shouts and more voices chime in with encouragement.
“There’s too many people in here,” some girl remarks.
“The sign says ‘max 6 persons’,” another guy reads, inciting more laughter from the crowd.
Christian stops, takes my hand and leads me through the crowd and out onto the street. There’s no traffic at the moment, so we jog across and step around the corner of the building. Once in the alley, he grabs me and kisses me again, softly this time.
“Call an Uber?” he changes the plan.
“So where’s that van of yours?” I press in mild frustration.
“The van smells and is way too crowded. I don’t even know who would be in it honestly. I’d feel ungentlemanly,” he says with a quiet nervous laugh.
“Well then, let’s just go back across the street,” I say in a bit if a huff. He’s being rather primadonna-ish. I lead him back across the street to Sly’s building and in the front door as someone walks out.
“Hey Jaz,” he says. I’m not sure who he is but people on the scene seem to know me. I give him a nod and a smile. The lobby has thinned out. Everyone must be up at Sly’s.
“Stairs,” I say to Christian and lead him to the stairwell, push the door open, turn and pull him in with me. Then I sit myself on the steps and take the camera back out of my jacket pocket. Christian gets excited when he sees it. His eyes light up.
“We’re gonna take some pictures, Jaz? I didn’t see you for the show off type,” he says as he snatches the camera from my grasp, drunkenly lunges forward to kiss me and starts haphazardly snapping.
“Haha,” I chuckle playfully as we kiss, lips nipping at each other as we jostle for position on the steps. “It’s an interview, remember?” I say as I time my distraction and grab my camera back to prop it in its stand on the step above us. Then I check the framing, make sure that its recording again and start to talk. The video unpauses and continues like this.
“So,” I say to the camera with a blushing grin, “just getting personal with Christian Rheun from Stuck in Japan. Part two of the interview.” I run my hand through his hair fondly once again. “Such sexy hair,” I remark breathily before putting things back on track. “Next question. So you’re definitely not a hiphop band, but a song like The Revolution has huge hiphop influence.”
“Wait wait wait wait, get this part on film,” he interrupts me. He’s so wasted at this point. He forgets that the whole thing is getting recorded. Christian grabs my face and starts kissing me again, sloppy at first and then rather hard. As I come up for air he moves down to my chest and then back up to my neck. Losing control, he starts randomly indulging in my skin.
“Mmmm,” I moan softly but then I manage to complete the question between gasps and flinches. “Did you listen to a lot of hiphop when you were younger?”
“Yeah uh, yeah I love Kanye and Uzi,” he answers. At first it’s as if the interview is just a distraction, but then he elaborates. “Whole Lotta Red is really a huge inspiration sound wise for us,” he says with a cocky rock star grin. It’s a good answer. My arms entwine around him and my little chest heaves with my heavy breath.
“You like it on camera?” I ask with a mischievous grin.
“I think you do,” he asserts. I can’t say that he’s wrong. “You have the look for it. I just wanted to see how flustered I could get you. And I could always watch it again and again.”
We gaze into each other’s eyes and I slip my hands under the back of his shirt. The thumping of the party upstairs can be heard and there is milling about in the lobby just outside the door below. My palms roam around his back primally, and my mouth moves forward for a kiss. Christian pushes his body down onto mine and my hands move lower to his ass as I lift my left leg up onto the step above, the clunky heel of my strap boot making a dull thunk on the thin carpet.
“We need to fuck somewhere, somehow. Like now,” he whispers with urgency. I gaze into his eyes seriously for a moment as my right hand finds his mop of blonde tangles again.
“Then fuck me,” I whisper back. “Like now.”
“Right here on the dirty steps?” he asks incredulously. “No fucking way! I’ll end up killing you!”
“Steps aren’t that dirty,” I wink. Then I reach down and slowly open his fly to reach in to the heat of his boxers where my unseen fingertips trace his length.
“Show me then, Jaz. Show me something dirtier,” he moans, voice shuddering into my ear as he hovers over my body. Clearly, he’s moved from rock star mode to porn star mode. Then he licks down my craning neck and lowers onto me again, unable to hold a position for any length of time. He’s lost all concentration. His arms reach down and slip under the hem of my dress where they are obscured from the camera. “Fuck Jazzz,” he groans as he fidgets to pull my gusset aside.
“Uh… ahh… heheee,” I laugh as his finger finds my entrance. I’m damp down there and I feel the air wisp at my trimmed bush. The lens can’t see him penetrate me but it does catch my hips begin to gently rock and a sweet smile spread across my mouth as Christian kisses my neck. Fumbling, I push his shorts down his hips and then his your boxers so that his cute pale butt is exposed. My right hand palms it as my left grabs his cock and gives it a bit of a yank. It’s hot in my hand. I’m rather cramped with my back on the step and my shoulders and neck pinned against the wall. As our bodies jostle, the camera gains a brief glimpse of my hand starting to jerk his thick and smooth cut shaft, his pronounced bell end catching in the webbing of my thumb and forefinger. My silver skull bangle flops on my wrist. Then I stroke his sac, letting his balls squeeze out carefully between my fingers. My leg hooks up around his back and I wiggle my hips into position, then finally guide his cock down to my pussy.
“Fuck Jaz, I love my balls played with. You’re fucking perfect right now,” he moans as his length sinks into me. He kisses my neck and then his sexy white butt starts to undulate between my brown thighs as he fucks me. It’s not the most comfortable position, with my back scrunched up against the wall under the banister, but that just seems to make it hotter. The back of my head makes a subtle thumping sound against the wall as he thrusts harder.
“Mnhh, unhh… uhh” I take him, my breath heavy and hot in his ear. “Who’s better now?” I ask. “Girls in Florida or here in Seattle? Heh.”
“Fuuuckk Jaz… fuck,” he moans loudly. Once he catches his breath he continues. “One girl in Seattle for sure,” he mutters as his body starts clapping against mine. My slit has amply wetted his shaft by now and the smack of flesh as his hips slap my thighs fills the stairwell. The silver dagger on my earring swings about from the reckless banging that has me starting to slip off the step. He takes my face in his hands and hot ragged breath vents from my slackened lips. I wrap my legs wrap around his torso to hang on while I dig my fingers into his hair. The tip of my tongue stretches to lick at his septum piercing, then my neck strains forward to kiss his mouth sloppy drunk and wet. Christian breaks the kiss and clutches my face forcing me to meet his gaze. Then he dips his thumb into my mouth as his strokes slow and lengthen and my lips close around it.
“Suck my thumb, Jaz. Just like that,” he smiles. At times at the peak of his stroke the camera can see his pole disappearing below the tuft of my black bush uncovered by my shifted panties. “Fuck Jaz, fuck I’m gonna cum so,” he grunts, his face wincing tight as he continues each syllable on one of his suddenly quickening piling thrusts. “Fuc-king-harrrd,” he huffs, announcing his pending climax as he presses his thumb further down my and then buries his face in my neck to give me a bite. I flinch.
“Wait wait,” I hush and tighten the grip of my thighs around him to slow his pace. We’ve just started and he already wants to finish. His cock is so hot inside me and the pronounced rim of his glans actually catches on my entrance each time that he pulls back. “Not yet,” I plead softly. “Make it lash a li’l longer, baby,” I urge, my words slurred a bit by his thumb. “You wan’ another position?” I ask him breathily.
“Yeah yeah. Do you wanna do it from behind?” he asks me with eyes pleading like a puppy dog. He’s really into me. “Your mini dress has been killing me all night,” he says as his hips slow down and he kisses my neck again.
“Okay,” I hush, nodding quickly. Then I unclasp my thighs to let him off of me. He rises and his dick bobs full frontal for the camera beneath the edge of his black t-shirt while he stands on the step. He’s maybe seven inches and veins criss-cross his surface under the gleam of my coating juices. I clamber up and roll over, hands on the upper step and knees below, offering him my behind.
“Holy fuck, Jaz,” he blurts his usual interjection, adding ‘holy’ to it this time. “How the fuck is it this nice?” he says more than asks. He bends down and his unruly blonde mop lines up behind me to kiss my ass. I laugh nervously as his tongue licks and tickles my fleshy booty and then give a tiny gasp as he trails down to find my slit. Then he straightens up and takes me by the hips and sticks himself back in.
“Ahhhh,” I sigh upon entry. “So good inside me,” I grin, my kohl-rimmed eyelashes fluttering as I twist my neck in pleasure. The camera is off center, cropping part of me at the edge of the picture. I reach for it and it rattles briefly as I move it into a better position near my arm, so it gets a good view down my chest (braless in the off-shoulder dress) as gravity collects my little tits into tangible mounds, and can see the bumps of my titty rings through the black fabric, yet still shows his hip and thigh behind me and a good shot of his hand on my waist as it pulls to start shuttling, pressing into the flesh of my ass as he hilts in. The crinkled hem of his shirt covers his abs and everything above his elbows is out of the frame.
“Throw it back on me, Jaz,” he instructs and then spanks me. I flinch in surprise and the smack echoes loud and clear throughout the stairwell. I apply some subtle pressure back at him with my arms against the step and we get into a rhythm of fucking, the flesh of my ass rippling with each impact.
“Uhh, uhh, uhh…” I begin to sigh. He picks up the pace, my soft booty jiggling away as we go at it.
“Jaz baby, give me your tongue. Stick out your tongue for me,” he says.
“Ohh, your cock is so hot inside me,” I moan softly. “Nothing between us,” I blush. Since I pulled out the ponytail back at Sly’s, my hair and dreadlock bundle flops and spills down my shoulder. The ratty ends wave gently with the motion of our fucking. Behind me my bronze skin shows halfway down my back where my jacket and dress is pushed up. Beyond that, there’s the black strip of my panties with the gusset pulled a tad off center and my ass jiggling with each of his thrusts, his white hands on my waist, and finally his pale hips below the hem of his black t-shirt plowing into me. Then the swoosh on Christian’s Nike tee comes down into the frame followed by his blonde tangly locks as he leans forward and reaches his hand to my face, his thumb stuck proud towards my mouth. He has a thing for thumb sucking, I guess. I take it into my mouth again and press my tongue along side it. Then he pops it out and slides it down my ass to press on my anal bud.
“You’re a dirty fucking girl, fuck,” he almost shouts. Presumably because I’m taking a thumb in the asshole but he never asked me. He’s the one doing it. I’m rather glad that the camera can’t see that action. Instead it gets a lovely closeup of my face wincing in discomfort as he presses it in, and I resolve that whatever happens, that thumb is in no way going back into my mouth.
“Mnhh, mmm, mghhh…” I mewl as he fucks me. My tits have had no attention all night. I palm one of them through the dress until it works its way over the neckline and I give the nipple a tug.
“Fuck Jaz, do you want me to cum in you?” he huffs and moans. “I’m so close, fuck, or should I cover your pretty tan skin with my cum?”
“Mmm, cum in me. It’s okay,” I huff between breaths, then place both hands back on the step for leverage to push back against him.
“Wait Jaz,” he changes his mind again. “I wanna look at you when I cum in you. Get on top of me quick! Quick!” he pleads.
“Unhh,” I moan as i lean forward to let him out. Then I hurriedly flip myself over, legs spread all ladylike for a moment as I work out the logistics. “Okay, you wanna sit down?” I ask him and then stand up and motion for him to sit on the step. His face is above the frame again but his shirt is giving Nike some great ad space on my v-blog as his cock bobs from his tawny bramble at the ready again just below. Christian complies eagerly and sits on the step with his back to the camera. We shuffle into place.
“Yeah, just sit right on top of me,” he instructs. “I wanna kiss the fuck outta you.” There’s not much room for my legs on the step but I’m petite and determined to make it work. I try to take a moment to straddle him, one knee high boot on either side of his body, and hover over his lap but his needs are too urgent and he grabs me by the ass and guides me down. The lens can’t see his erection flopped onto his tummy but it does catch my hands reach down to his hips to coax his ass further out on the step. Then I brace myself with my right hand on his shoulder and squat while I reach with my left to prop him up. I lower myself until we line up and his hot prick pierces me once more and with a wiggle of my hips I take him right down.
“Ahhh,” I sigh. His mouth finally goes for my chest and I slip the top of the dress down to expose my small tits with their dark cocoa nipples with small silver hoops through them. I reach to adjust the camera angle diagonal towards us, showing the curve of my breast press and stretch at his lips as I begin to subtly rock in Christian’s lap, increasing in motion. I ride him.
“Gib de camewa a show, Jath,” he mumbles with a mouthful of my nipple. “Go crathy.” His hands go for my neck and apply pressure. My right arm wraps around his back to brace my chest to his face while my left swarms in his sexy hair.
Suddenly, there’s a door creaking open and clicking shut. Someone is in the stairwell. Footsteps tread on the worn carpet and soon a couple is coming down the steps. “Oh hello,” the girl says rather sarcastically. Her date chuckles. “Hi,” I blush back as their legs pass through the left of the picture and they head out the bottom of the stairwell. I clutch Christian’s head to my chest and my face turns serious as I add more rigor into my lap rocking.
“Nhhh, unhh, uhhh”, I whimper, almost grunting with effort as I wrench his hard pole about in my entrance. “So good,” I seethe.
“Baby,” he grunts. “I’m fucking cumming… fuuckk!” He lifts his head from my chest and my nipple snaps back into shape. We kiss, deep and hard. He moans into my mouth and I sigh into his. With a smack our lips part and our gazes are locked.
“Cum, baby,” I pant and press down as far as I can, writhing my butt down into his lap to take it all. I can feel the subtle twitch at the base of his cock and a few seconds later the warmth is filling me. “Ohh,” I sigh softly and my brow lilts at the sensation.
“Oh my God, Jaz,” he moans. “I’m cumming.” I grab a fistful of his hair and when I feel the relent in his core that signifies his finish, I clutch his face to my chest and kiss his forehead. Everything goes quiet for a few moments. The party thumps upstairs and there are some voices and shuffling in the lobby. I keep slowly grinding on his cock and stroke his hair while my breath recovers. I feel sweaty from the workout and my forehead glistens for the camera. It was a good shag.
“Jaz, you’re fucking nuts,” Christian says.
“Nuts? Heh, heh,” I chuckle. “What makes you say that?”
“Uh, we just fucked in a stairwell and people even walked by and you just wanted me that bad and you recorded it!” he explains. “Like that’s so hot.”
“Hehee,” I laugh nervously. “Yeah well, you only live once,” I shrug. There are more voices from the lobby and some upstairs too. I perk up and look about the walls. “Sounds like something’s going on,” I say. Then reluctantly I lift off of him. Obscured to the camera by his back, his cock flops down onto his tummy while a string of his pearly seed smears the hem of his t-shirt. “Oops, haha,” I laugh. “Just did it.” I sit myself next to him and straighten my panties, our backs to the lens. Then I reach back for my camera and frame up a closeup as I lean sweetly against his shoulder.
“This is HardCoreJaz interviewing Christian Rheun from Stuck in Japan,” I sign off. “They’re coming to your town. Go see them. I enjoyed it,” I wink into the camera.”
“Nope, you gotta clean it off now. That’s your mess. It came from you,” he laughs in porn star mode, then falls back out of the frame blushing while his hand gives the camera a wave. I laugh and shrug, my black hair looking a bit wild, then lean down and take his half-hard cock in my mouth to give it one good sucking cleaning stroke. Awkwardly handheld, the spectacle barely stays in at the bottom of the frame.
“How’s that?” I ask playfully.
“Here, let’s go upstairs, collect ourselves and find somewhere to sleep,” he suggests as he grabs my hand. I’m hopped up on E. I’m not about to sleep any time soon. I fix my dress, pulling it up to cover my chest.
“I think we gotta go,” I say as I hear the commotion in the lobby. There’s shouting. “Sounds like cops,” I remark. “Good night folks,” I wave to the camera and press stop. The video fades out.