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She was beautiful. All right angles and curves. She was smooth and supple and designed to perform. Her body was sleek and shiny, her neck long and the perfect size to easily wrap your hand around. What wasn’t to love? She was perfect in every sense of the word.
She never talked back, never complained, never refused. Relic was always quiet, unless you touched her just right. If you knew how to use your hands she’d scream and moan all night long. She was sensitive, and the slightest touch would make her whine, but she’d go for hours without rest. She was a machine, figuratively and literally.
Sonya laid the bass guitar down in the bed and hovered over top of it drunkenly. She was totally wasted and could hardly see straight. The shining body of Relic glinted in the low moonlight, the temptress she was. The dark haired woman began to undo her fly and kick her dusty jeans off.
Moonlight was the only source of illumination in Sonya’s bedroom. The house was quiet other than the soft panting breaths she produced and the low whine the strings released as she teased her fingertips along them. Higher and higher her hand climbed up that long neck of hers until she was thumbing at the string posts, and Sonya leaned down to trace her tongue lightly over them, proceeding to wrap her lips around a tuning peg.
Otherwise naked save for her stained white panties, Sonya shuffled her hips up to press her hardening clit to the bottom of the shimmering body. The strap button pressed against her pleasantly, but only for a moment. Cracked lips kissed their way down the headstock and she began to tongue kiss the nut.
A low whine was produced as Sonya rubbed circles into one of the lower frets, still slobbering over the bass and humping it slowly. Her breathing was shuttered and shallow.
Clumsily Sonya slid her panties off, the white scrap of fabric getting caught on her ankle. She reached down to jerk herself off a bit as she swayed, kneeling over Relic.
“See what you do you me, baby? Gettin’ daddy all worked up… looking so good. Soooo perfect…” she slurred at the unmoving, unfeeling object.
Again she thumbed up the neck, forcing a sheer whimper from the guitar, tracing her thumb up and down and then across the strings slowly, pulling them taut one by one.
“Yeah? You like it when I touch you just like this?” She scoffed, smirking crookedly as she worshipped the guitar.
Her movements were jerky and sloppy as she again lowered herself to grind her cock against the pick guard. A low, growling moan escaped her throat.
“Fuck yeah… I know you do… love it when - hic - I fuck you nice and… mmmphh… sloww.”
She leaned her forehead against the fretboard and closed her eyes. Everything was so quiet other than the slick sound of her cunt dragging across the bass guitar. The movement was mindless and she acted purely on instinct as she used the guitar to get herself off.
Sonya knew she was pathetic. She knew she was disgusting. That’s what she loved, she loved feeling worthless and used up and greedy. All she was, and all she ever would be was a desperate junkie chasing after her next fix. She could pretend that it was anything more than that- an addiction, but pretending wouldn’t make it true.
She was frantically humping Relic, fucking the guitar like it was giving her life. Every slide of her dick over the polished body drew a weak, sad groan from her throat. She closed her eyes and imagined she was anywhere but here. She imagined she was back with him. She imagined it was him that she was humping.
With her eyes closed it was easy to pretend. His body was warm and willing beneath her, and he was looking over his shoulder at her, his long blonde hair cascading down his back. Those eyes, soft and blue, watched her watching him. The wide, pale expanse of his freckled back before her, the softness of his hips as she gripped at him and held him impossibly close…
Tears were running down her face as she came, sobbing, strangling the neck of the bass as fucking it so hard that she was hurting herself, but she didn’t care. She wanted it to hurt. This was her punishment.
Sonya lit a cigarette and laid on her side next to the object. She tried not to think about him, tried to think about anything other than him, but she couldn’t. It was impossible. He was all she ever thought about anymore. She needed him now more than ever, and she couldn’t stop kicking herself for admitting that fact at all. She didn’t need anyone or anything.
Lifting a cigarette to and from her mouth she looked over at Relic, huffing cigarette smoke out at it.
“Was it good for you too?”