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Vibrations: part 1

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Vibrations: part 1

It is building up again. I am waiting for the drop. I can't wait any longer. Stop teasing me!

By Michelle Malou

Darkness and dancing bodies surround me. I am unable to see the edge of the space I am standing in. The flashing lights are disorienting me, while they seem to merge with the sound that is omnipresent. My mind is captivated almost making me forget I have a body.

Suddenly, she looks up and finds my eyes within the moving mass of people in front of her. Our eyes lock and a wave of energy shocks through my body and paralyzes me. For a moment, it feels like time is moving slower for us and I want to stop it completely. With all my senses hightened, I passively observe the moment and try to not pollute it with any thoughts.

With my arms in the air, I let her music enthrall me.

The pressure of the music in the air around me. The taste of sweat dripping down my lips. The smell of intoxication in the air. The sound of the different frequencies of the music. The image of her eyes at the center of everything. While the momentum in the music builds, the tension rises, and the energy accrues, we are connected. Like a catapult, the drop releases the moment and with the speed of light time catches up. Through the low frequency of the bass, she hypnotizes me and demands me to dance. The patterns in the music guide my body like a marionette. My eyes shut and the afterimage of her pulsates through the labyrinth of my brain. With my arms in the air, I let her music enthrall me. I am rarely intrigued by people but she is different. Hiding half of her face behind a curtain of her dark hair, not throwing her beauty at just anyone. Her music, however, reveals a deep complexity and extraordinary intellect. The mysteriousness a carefully designed maze to her true self, in which most probably get lost. Does she understand, do I understand? My imagination runs wild. I imagine the touch of her full and soft lips on mine. Suddenly I am pulled out of my fantasy by a cold and wet feeling over my body. My eyes are wide open now. "Oh, I am so very sorry," is being shouted into my ear and a girl tries to dry me with her bare hands. "It happens", I say before I make my way to the bathroom.

Who the fuck is this woman? And why I am so goddamn horny?

Silently I greet myself in the mirror and decrease the distance to my reflection. My face is red and covered with little sweat droplets. I must have been dancing for some hours now. The deep sounds of the music were like a net that had gradually pulled more towards the composer of the music in the front. When I first laid eyes on her, a feeling of guilt instantly hit me. I had imagined a man. "What a failure of a feminist I am," I thought. I gave myself in imaginable bitchslap and submitted my body completely to her music. When she looked at me, she understood I was her slave for the rest of the night. While I am reminiscing about the beginning of the evening, the bass sounds of the music are the only parts of the music able to penetrate the walls and they are urging me to come back and play with them. My reflection gives me naughty look. Quickly I dry off the spilt beer and sweat with the cardboard colored, cheap paper and make my way back to the dancefloor. The moisture in the warm air immediately sets on my skin. The vibrations of the music tickle the tiny hairs in my neck and I am able to hear whole frequency range of the musical composition without any obstruction of its flow. As soon as she spots me back on the dancefloor, she winks at me mischievously, as wanting to prepare me for her next musical move. The sound slowly changes, shivers spark goosebumps all over the skin of my body and at no point in time both my feet are on the ground. Who the fuck is this woman? And why I am so goddamn horny? A moan releases and is overwhelmed by music immediately. 

It is building up again. I am waiting for the drop. I can't wait any longer. Stop teasing me.

The deepest sounds run from my core upwards. My chest is moving so rapidly that I don't know how far it is expanded at any giving point in time. The bass pushes from the outside, the air in my lungs push back from the inside, continuously fighting for the position. I am not longer able to ignore the cloud of fine electric currency forming between my legs. Occasionally, after she has adjusted something on her equipment, she looks up as trying to observe my reaction to her manipulation of the frequencies in the surrounding air. The visual input from the lights and moving bodies are too much, I have to close my eyes. Subsequently, my brain is better able to process the incoming sound patterns. I cannot help but imagine the sounds being the touch of her hands all over my body. My feet are grounded on the floor and I let my body float on the waves of the music. My nipples are hard. The fabric of my shirt rubbing over them, they are so sensitive. A hand is moving between my legs. Is it hers? Is it mine? Is it really happening? I don't know anymore. Her music is merging the reality with imagination. The different layers in the music touching different layers of my body. The melody feels like her lips and hands gently gliding over my skin and the bass are the deep and continuous penetration of her fingers. It is building up again. I am waiting for the drop. I can't wait any longer. Stop teasing me.

I force myself to remember I am in a public space. I am on a dance floor. Continuously I have to fight the urge to touch myself and I keep clenching my hands into fists. Would anyone notice in this darkness? Very casually I let my hand slide over the fabric of my black pants near my thigh. Everything is so sensitive. I cannot stop myself. Should I leave all together? I open my eyes again to check my surroundings. Everybody is in their own world. Dancing intoxicated by chemicals and music. She looks at me. Her facial expression revealing she knows exactly what is going on in my mind and body. She hides her face behind her curtain of her hair again, as if wanting to give me privacy. I am so high on horniness I literally do not care anymore. I let my eyelids block most of the stroboscopic lights in the room and slowly let my hand vanish into my pants. When my fingers touch my clit, my knees almost fail to hold me in a standing position. I start to shake. Only a high hat is present in the music. It is almost silent. My other hand moving through my blond hair. It is inevitable. I will orgasm. My consciousness sinks between to the spot under my fingers and explodes accompanied by screams into the room. Just in time, the bass, melodic and vocals hide my sounds. I am not sure if I am still standing. I feel everything and nothing.

 

To be continued...

 

 

 

 

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