She was in my arms, this beautiful woman, as music pounded in the night. My senses were insanely heightened. I distinctly felt a line of sweat between my shoulder blades, sticking my concert T-shirt to my back. I smelled the coconut shampoo perfuming her hair. I thought I somehow heard the chirp of crickets through the din of the band as they played what was probably going to be their final encore.

But mostly I was keenly aware of the hot thrill working within me, and the answering excitement from this female body writhing against mine.

My mouth was still tingling. She’d just broken our slavering, tongue-dancing kiss. In the dimness behind the concession tent, I saw her eyes glimmer. Her breasts, straining against a similar T-shirt of her own, pushed against my chest. Her crotch pressed my groin, where my cock had swelled mightily in my jeans.

She gasped, “We’ve got until the end of this song.”

I didn’t know why this limitation was in force, but I wasn’t going to waste time questioning it. She’d laid down the rules: till the end of the song.

OK, let’s make the most of it.

Our lips mashed hungrily together again. Her arms went around me, and she groped my ass, pulling me tighter against her. At the same time, she ground herself on my hard-on. Emboldened — and shuddering with pleasure — I brought a hand to her tit. She wore no bra, and her erect nipple stuck out proudly beneath the thin fabric. I squeezed her breast, and she moaned into my mouth.

This had all happened so fast. I’d been watching the band for the past hour. They were slaying it, grinding out high-octane rock. We were at a weekend-long outdoor music festival with multiple stages.

I’d seen her grooving in the crowd, dancing alone with her head bobbing and her body swaying. I was instantly struck with lust. She must have sensed me watching her because she turned, looked right at me and grinned. Damn, she was pretty! I took a tentative step toward her, but she shook her head and nodded toward the back of the crowd. I followed her as she moved in that direction. I wondered if she was at the event with someone.

When she reached a clear patch of ground, she sized me up. I liked the feel of her gaze on me. But I liked it even better when she smiled with approval, took my hand and led me around behind the concession tent. There were no introductions, no words at all, in fact — not until she’d said the thing about the end of the song. With that, we were making out and groping one another like crazy.

I pushed up her T-shirt and caressed her bare tits. She undid my jeans and, without ceremony, pulled out my straining cock. I bit down a groan, even though no one would probably hear me over the thunder of the band’s finale. I hoped to hell they played the long version of this song.

She immediately started pumping my shaft. Following suit, I reached down and raked up her skirt. I yanked aside her panties and slipped two fingers into her already streaming pussy. She bucked and jerked me harder and faster.

The song reached its shrieking bridge; I knew there wasn’t much time left. I pulled my fingers free and worked her swollen clit. My balls ached as she jacked my cock. My jeans were halfway down my legs. Her juices were streaming over my fingers.

There was strange erotic beauty in the anonymity of our hookup. She was a nameless object of my lust, and I was the same to her. There we were, without any preliminaries, without any chance to trip each other up with social miscues. Instead, we’d cut right to it, to our mutual sexual gratification.

And that gratification was about to reach its climax. I felt myself being borne past the point of no return, while her body thrashed wildly. Beyond the tent, the band was gearing up for its grand finale.

She cried out with orgasmic ecstasy, just as my jizz started flying. It spurted out in eruptions of pure pleasure, every spew like a grand triumph of physical bliss.

“Thank you, good night!” the lead singer howled into the mic as the clamor of the music finally ended.

She stepped back, tugging down her skirt, and I fumbled with my jeans. My spunk had striped the back of her hand. She raised it to her mouth and locked eyes with me as she licked up the goo. A fresh wave of desire seized me, but it was too late. The song was done. She turned and scampered away, while I was still zipping up.

I scanned the grounds but couldn’t find her again. The experience had been wonderful, but I wanted more. I wanted at least to know her name. Maybe the anonymous thing wasn’t so great, after all. Or maybe the connection we’d made called for some follow-up.

But she was gone.

The next day I checked out of my motel and drove back to the concert grounds, feeling listless. The remnants of the festival didn’t cheer me up. All the headliners had already played. It was Sunday and just the secondary acts were onstage. People sprawled on blankets, listening half-heartedly, like they’d partied too hard the previous day and just wanted to lie in the warm noonday sun, which held the promise of spring.

I didn’t see the woman I was hoping to find. Eventually, I decided to leave. It was going to be a long drive back to the city.

In the thinned out parking lot, I came to a sudden halt. Someone was leaning against the front of my car with her arms crossed and her head at a tilt. She was looking my way, as if she’d been waiting for me.

My mystery woman.

I checked my impulse to rush toward her. I had the strange feeling she might fly away like a startled bird. Approaching slowly, I offered a friendly smile, which she returned.

“How’d you know this was my car?” I asked.

Really, though, I wanted to firmly establish that she was waiting for me, that this wasn’t some crazy random mistake.

“I saw you leave last night,” she said. “I memorized your license plate.”

“That raises a few more questions,” I said, keeping my tone light. I still felt she might take flight, and I didn’t want that to happen.

She grinned, and it made her already pretty face prettier by several degrees.

She replied, “I work security here. Last night, I slipped off my lanyard badge and snuck out into the crowd. Wanted to see that band. I’m off duty now.”

Looking for something witty to say, I blurted out, “Well, I’m sorry I interrupted your viewing.”

I immediately wanted to kick myself.

“Are you?” she asked impishly.

This time, I said the right thing: “Not sorry one damn bit.”

“Me neither.”

So that quick sex act behind the tent really had happened, and we were both acknowledging it. Good. Great. Because I wanted more.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Daphne. You?”

“Dash.” There, introductions at last.

“Dash. I love it.” Her eyes sparkled in the sun. “Come here, Dash. Kiss me.”

I stepped up, and we kissed. It wasn’t like the night before. It didn’t have to be. But it wasn’t a safe chaste kiss, either. Her lips moved against mine, and I felt the heat rising off her body. She was dressed in cutoffs and a vest, and her body was lovely.

When the kiss broke, she softly asked, “Want to come back to my place?” I nodded emphatically, and we got into my car. I followed her directions, and we pulled up to a cottage. She took me inside. It was a cozy place, with fun decor.

But excitement was simmering hotly in me. The previous night’s memories were vivid in my head — along with the longing that had followed, the deep desire for more from this woman. From Daphne.

“So.” She faced me. “Coffee, tea, or...?” She dangled the last part like a lyric I should know. When she saw my baffled look, she tittered. But there was nothing mean in it. “It’s an old line. Not even sure what it’s from. It goes: Coffee, tea or me?”

Easy answer. “You.”

“Good.” She took my hand, and we went into the next room, which was her bedroom. She undid the vest and shrugged it off. I caught my breath. Her breasts were gorgeous — firm and high, tipped with succulent pink nipples. She must have read my expression as encouragement because she kicked off her shoes and dropped the cutoffs and her panties. And there she stood, gloriously naked and exuding an undeniably confident sexuality.

After a pause, she added, “Unless you’d really prefer coffee or tea?”

Her words snapped me into action. I quickly stripped, and my erect cock sprang straight out. Little bursts of energy seemed to crackle all across my skin. I remembered her hand on my rod. But now we would have time and space for anything we’d like to do.

Daphne stepped toward me, and I met her. We seemed to flow together, arms going around each other smoothly. Our lips touched, a similar smooch to the one we’d shared in the parking lot. But then our kiss deepened, and our passion showed through. Our tongues came together and did a slow dance.

My cock was pressed against her abdomen, but I wasn’t self-conscious. My state of arousal was as it should be. Daphne inflamed my senses. Even if we’d only had our very brief encounter, I still would’ve remembered her for a long time to come. As it stood, I assumed she’d leave a permanent impression in my memory.

Her hands glided along my body, up my back to my shoulders. She gave me gentle squeezes, and I touched her as well. Her skin had a silky quality, and I couldn’t get enough of her.

Her face was flushed when our kiss broke. She was breathing hard enough to jiggle her tits. She towed me by the hand to her bed and up onto it. We lay down facing one another, and there was heat and a seductive aroma coming off her body. It was the sweet scent of her arousal. I wanted to seriously breathe that in and taste its source.

But for the moment, we caressed and explored one another. I stroked her breasts and played with her erect nipples. She reached around me to grope my ass, making sounds of approval. Our shared excitement seemed to skyrocket. We kissed again, our tongues tangling greedily.

Together, we each reached for the other — her hand wrapping around my cock, my fingertips spreading her slick pussy lips. She shivered, and I sucked in air through my teeth. Immediate pleasure pulsed through my body; she had a knowing touch. The night before, she’d jerked me off in record time. But for our encore, she didn’t hurry. However, her grasp was still firm, her movements assured.

Her damp groove enticed me, and I slipped a finger into her depths. Her lithe body undulated on the mattress, reminding me of her grooving dance moves from when I’d first spotted her in the crowd at the concert. I delved deeper, exploring her wetness.

She pulled on my shaft. Her thumb smeared a dribble of pre-come over my cockhead, and I bucked in a way that was almost beyond my control. Grinning, she brought the thumb up to her mouth and sucked it clean.

“Mmm, I remember how good you taste. I want more,” she said breathlessly.

She scrambled down my body, my digit popping free of her pussy. She shouldered her way between my thighs. Her hand closed over my balls as her head moved into place, then her open mouth dropped onto my knob.

I gasped as her tongue caressed my crown, even as the ring of her lips descended my staff. She still wasn’t hurrying, but neither was she wasting time. She sucked me right down to my nutsac, which she still gently cradled in her hand.

I’d had good, well-meaning mouths on my cock before. I’d been sucked by some very orally talented women. But Daphne brought a gusto to the act I couldn’t match in my memory. She fell into a forceful tempo as her head bobbed. Her mouth didn’t let me go as she delivered some expert suction. With every downward plunge, my cockhead violated her throat. It felt incredible.

As pleasure overtook me, I felt adrift on the bed. But Daphne soon kicked her blowjob into a higher gear. Her slurping mouth worked me intensely. Before I could rein myself in, I was just about at the brink. I warned her, “I’m about to come!”

But she didn’t seem care, and she didn’t stop. Thick jets of my spunk let loose, every spurt a crescendo of joy — not unlike the previous night’s band bringing their song to its climax. Daphne kept her mouth on me, and I swear I heard her swallowing.

Seconds later, she was leaning over me as I lay dazed. A drop of my cream glistened at the corner of her mouth. She said, “I have faith you can go a second time. Meanwhile, I’d like my pussy licked, please.”

You can’t say no to good manners. I threw off my lethargy as she reclined with her legs spread. I hunkered into position to admire her gleaming pussy. I inhaled her enticing scent and eagerly swiped my tongue along her groove. She squealed and squirmed with delight.

I settled in to eat her properly. I gave her a good, deep lick, getting a fine sample of her flavor. I plunged in deeper. Like a moth to flame, I went for her clit, which looked swollen and needy. I caressed her nub, playfully batting it. Her responses told me everything I needed to know. As I worked her harder, her hips jerked. Her fingers clawed at the bedcovers on either side of her. A cry rose in her throat, the sound climbing in pitch.

When she came, her juices truly flowed. Like she’d done for me — because I was a good sport, and because I wanted to do it — I kept my mouth glued to her. Her honey flowed across my tongue, and I eagerly swallowed every drop.

I sat up with my chin wet and my mouth tingling. She looked at me dreamily, her gaze dropping swiftly from my face.

“Well, looks like that second time is ready to happen,” she quipped.

My stiff cock was indeed jutting out proudly.

She levered herself up and pushed me gently onto my back. She wanted to be on top, and that was fine with me. I lay back, and watched as this beautiful woman climbed onto me. It still seemed improbable that all of this was occurring, that our fast, minimal encounter behind a concession tent had morphed into this glorious full-on sexcapade.

As she fitted my cockhead into her pussy, the previous night’s music entered my mind. I imagined that I heard the raucous jangling chords, the whining feedback, but it was softer somehow. It seemed to echo across a crystalline lake in my memory as she lowered herself onto my pole.

Pleasure took hold of her, a visible force of rising ecstasy. Her tits heaved, the nipples still pink and stiff. She ground down on me, taking me deep inside her cunt. I felt the firm clasp of her pussy walls hugging my shaft. My balls stirred, craving their impending eruptive bliss.

She settled her knees, planted a palm flat on my chest and set off riding me. She moved with grace and confidence. I was what she wanted, and she was having me. I gripped her hips and thrust upward to meet her every downstroke.

The bed rocked beneath us. In my head, the music continued to play. I knew that whenever I heard that song in the future, it would be accompanied by my exquisite memories of Daphne.

We were locked together, cock to cunt, securing this moment for ourselves alone. She rode me harder, rhythmically lifting her body and slamming it down. Her mouth hung open, a mouth I’d unloaded my come into moments earlier. For a few seconds it seemed her breath froze, then it burst out in a cry. It was an orgasmic shout. Her pussy tightened around my staff. I didn’t come with her, but I felt the energy radiating powerfully from her.

When her body started to go limp, I caught her, and without withdrawing from her, I maneuvered her onto her back. Once I was atop her, I wasted no time. My own fresh excitement was building to a fever pitch.

I made sure she was back in this world, then I started stroking into her in earnest. I quickly picked up speed. Our bodies smacked loudly together, and I slammed into her pussy. I was moving in a blur. Sexual adrenaline drove me wildly onward. I fucked her crazily. A raw sound began deep in my throat as my cock plowed her depths.

Music roared in my head. I was the thunder of those guitar chords, the pounding drums, the thumping bass.

My climax struck. I let my jizz go a second time, and it was fantastically intense. I shot out jet after jet, and as I did, I saw Daphne writhing madly.

Yes, come with me. Come, even if I can’t hear you over the music.

Then we were done. There were some tender moments as we basked in the afterglow, but I knew I should get out of there. I still had a long drive home. Daphne had her own life, too. At any rate, she made no mention of us seeing one another again, though when we parted at her door, her kiss was warm and wonderful.

I drove off, but the music lingered in my mind — as did images of delightful Daphne.