It was heavy enough that I could tell it wasn’t just the huge case. I clicked open the latches and looked inside. The label on the lid declared that...it was from Zaveleta’s. I recognized the instrument. I’d lusted for it ever since I saw it at Vinnie’s guitar shop where I took lessons. A classical Spanish concert guitar with a rounded back. I’d long ago—in V2—replaced the steel strings on my acoustic guitar with nylon strings because I was never interested in rocking out. I loved the soft mellow. Panting he rolls us over still inside me. Lying on top I nibble his nipples, biting his chest tracing the tattoo with my tongue. Climbing off I head south nibbling and biting as I taste myself and him. The taste of honey soaks my mouth as I suck and twirl my tongue around his head, licking from bottom to top tasting every inch of him. I moan with how good he tasted. Reaching for me I stop him, pushing him back I continue my assault biting my way back down tasting every supple muscle. His. More

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