Lost in the Sound

The bass pulsed, heavy and relentless,
thick waves of sound crashing into my chest.
The crowd moved as one—
a living, breathing ocean of bodies,
pressed tight, swaying, lost in the music.

And then—your hands.

A whisper against my hip,
a slow, knowing press at my back,
guiding me, claiming me,
though no one could see.

The darkness flickered with flashes of light,
streaks of red, gold, electric blue,
but all I felt was you,
your touch moving with the beat,
teasing, tracing, daring.

Your breath, hot at my ear,
your voice a low, wicked rasp—
“Just let go.”

My pulse matched the pounding bass,
wild, erratic, a drumbeat of need,
as your hands slid lower,
palming, kneading,
the heat of your fingers burning through my clothes.

Bodies pressed around us,
damp with sweat, lost in their own ecstasy,
heads thrown back, lips parted in wordless cries,
but none of them knew.

None of them knew that your fingers had already found me,
slipping beneath fabric,
seeking out my deepest secrets.

I gasped—
the sound swallowed whole by the music,
by the chaos, by the thunder of drums.

You played me like an instrument,
each stroke deliberate,
each movement pushing me higher,
drawing out pleasure in wicked, torturous waves.

My body trembled, my knees weak,
but I couldn’t fall—
the press of strangers held me up,
a wall of heat and motion,
while your hands roamed freely,
kneading, teasing, owning.

I bit my lip, desperate to keep silent,
but you knew—
oh, you knew how close I was,
how my body arched into you,
how my breath shuddered,
how my thighs clenched.

And then—your fingers pressed deeper,
a slow, perfect roll of your wrist,
timed to the rise of the chorus,
to the breaking of sound and light—
and I shattered.

A silent scream, a breathless moan,
a pleasure so intense it stole the ground from beneath me.
My legs gave out,
but the crowd held me firm,
bodies pressing, swaying,
never knowing they were keeping me upright
as I pulsed around your fingers,
as I drowned in the pleasure only you could give.

Your lips found my neck, a soft, triumphant kiss,
your voice smug against my skin.
“Good girl.”

And as the music crashed into another verse,
as the crowd surged and swayed,
I let myself melt against you,
sated, breathless, undone—
already aching for more.