Rock Me, Amadeus

Rock Me, Amadeus
by David Cain

“Here, here, come in here, there and sit down.” Angelica shouldered a young man’s inert frame as she guided his weak steps through the dim light, working slowly around the end table and with a shove, deposited him on the tweed upholstered sofa. With a groan, Steven struck the back of his head on the short divan’s wooden frame. “Oh, sorry baby, I’m so sorry, I’ll get you some ice. Lean back, gently, here’s a pillow. Don’t close your eyes, baby. Promise me you’ll keep them open.”

“Ooh,” moaned Steven, bringing a cautious hand to his swollen lip. Trying to focus in the pale glow of the distant kitchen light, he looked to see if the lip was still bleeding. Softly, he felt the bump on his nose. “Damn,” he said. Angelica scurried back on her heels, carrying a cloth wrapped around several ice cubes.

“Here,” she said, handing him the cool, damp towel. Kicking off her shoes, she reached for the light switch. “Let me get a look at you.” Steven turned his dark eyes up to her, lost and grateful. “Poor baby,” she said tenderly. “You look like you just lost a fight.” Steven touched the terrycloth to his lip gingerly, slowly pressing it closer. He smiled, vaguely.

“I think that’s what happened. Lost the battle, anyway.”

“You’re going to have a black eye, baby. You were so brave.” Angelica knelt down beside the sofa and pressed her lips to Steven’s chest.

“Yeah, well, if you call stepping in front of a truck brave.”

“Bah,” spat Angelica, “Jack is a brute. He had no right to beat you up.” Steven winced.

“Someone should have explained that to him earlier. He seemed to think he had a right. Bam, bam, pow. What did it take? Six seconds?”

“Jack’s a boxer. He knows how to fight.”

“Figures,” said Steven, rubbing his calf. “I’ve got a hell of a bruise there.”

“You hit the fire hydrant when you fell.” Angelica frowned as her soft hands rubbed Steven’s belly.

“That was the only thing I hit, well, except the cement.”

“You didn’t defend yourself, you know baby. Why didn’t you put up your dukes?” Angelica raised her hands in a defensive pose. Steven lifted his left hand, a strong, sturdy looking paw into the light and smiled.

“I don’t think it would have helped, but I didn’t dare. My hands are my fortune. My face was just for show. I’m a musician.” Angelica took his hand to look more closely at the talented fingers and then rubbed them over her full, pink cheek.

“You have beautiful hands,” she purred.

“If I broke a finger, I’d be out of work for six weeks. This,” he said, indicating his roughed face, “will only cost me a few kisses.”

“No, baby, it won’t cost you kisses. Not from me.” Angelica leaned up and kissed the unbruised corner of his mouth. “You were my hero. So brave.”

“So stupid,” said Steven.

“No, baby, not stupid. Jack acted like a child, bursting into the bar and making his demands. You refused to let him push you around.” Steven put his hand on the back of Angelica’s head and teased her thick black hair.

“He pushed me pretty good, I’d say.”

“With his fists, but not with his will. You stood up to him, even knowing, especially knowing that you couldn’t hit him back.”

“Well,” said Steven, his smile evidencing a little pride, “I couldn’t let him talk to you that way. It wasn’t right.”

“Oh, baby,” said Angelica, tickling her fingers down her chest. “You were so brave. Jack’s just a punk, thinking he can control everybody with his loud talk and his fists.”

“Angelica,” said Steven, softly.

“Yes, baby?”

“What kind of relationship did you have with Jack? I mean . . . .”

“No, baby. We dated for a while. Nothing serious. Nothing real except that he’s like all men, just jealous and possessive. I don’t do anything he hasn’t done.”

“So he was out of line,” said Steven, shifting as Angelica’s hand began to caress his prick through his trousers.

“Absolutely. I told him we were through long ago. He wouldn’t believe me. You were such a brave boy.” She pulled at the zipper of his pants.

“Some guys just don’t know when to quit,” said Steven. “There was this one guy, back at the Fall Symposium.” Angelica maneuvered a thickening staff from out of the shadows of cloth. “I would have laid him out, if I didn’t have to, you know.” Steven held his hand in the light.

“I know, baby,” she said, kissing the hard flesh of his cock.

“I would have knocked him flat with some Rachmaninoff, just Pow!”

Angelica turned her head to smile at Steven, pushed her shiny black hair behind a pale ear and sank his rigid girth between her red lips.

“Nobody grabs a lady’s arm when she’s out with me, that’s for damn sure. Oh, that’s good. Such a pretty smile, sucking my dick. I would have done him flat. My hands are very strong, you know, and fast. Oh, fuck, suck it Angie. He got a lucky punch, before I was ready. I would have crashed him like a cymbal. Just bam, bam, baboom. You are so hot, such a fine ass. Yeah, wiggle. That piece of crap had better stay out of my way. Next time, I’ll arpeggio his face. You like that, don’t you, like sucking my big prick, yeah, suck it Angie.”

Steven pressed her head down as the shudders ran from deep within to pour a fountain of hot spray from his cock. Angelica laughed with delight as his wet, watery orgasm spurted into her mouth.

“Oh God,” he moaned as his aching body trembled. “So good. So good. So good.”

“That’s right, baby,” said Angelica, licking her lips. “You’re my brave, brave man.”

“And I’d fuck you good,” he said, closing his eyes. “If I weren’t so fucking tired.”

“You sleep,” she said, kissing Steven’s soft dick. “You can tell me that story tomorrow.”


In memory of Falco


Er war Superstar

Er war popular

Er war so exaltiert

Because er hatte flair

Er war ein virtuose

War ein Rockidol

Und alles rief;

Come on and Rock me, Amadeus.


About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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