SERIES: The Best Groupie

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: NC-17 (Explicit Heterosexual Sexual Activity, Adult thematic material, language, adult content)

PAIRING(s): L/L

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine.  Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

CATEGORY: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-Show AU.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne meets her husband at the airport as he returns from a long tour.

NOTES: For Kath's 40th birthday, and an answer to her challenge - though I was already formulating this one weeks in advance.  Happy birthday, Kath!

****

Lavene DeFazio-Kosnowski hated airplanes.

Forget flying - the actual act that removed all control over motion and left it to destiny.  Forget the ugly airport walls and the overcrowded throughways.  Actual airplanes were the root source, the mother of all her misery. 

No, she amended - tour managers.  If airplanes mothered her misery, then tour managers were the fathers.

She glared at her watch - his flight was overdue by an hour.

Lenny had called that morning from Barstow after she took the kids to school - he'd sounded exhausted but happy.  The tour had gone well, but his nightly calls home had been loaded with complaints.  The audiences were great, so the actual performing part of the tour wasn't a problem - all of the conflict came from backstage.  Mick and Keith were stoners, and he didn't have anything in common with the rest of the band - most nights he and Squiggy would hang out in their hotel room playing cards while groupies pounded on their door and begged for KEEITH KEEITH and MICCK MICCK.

"I don't even got my own groupies, Laverne."

"I'm all the groupie you need, Len."

They both knew it was true - even with two kids and five years between them.  She couldn't think of a man who did for her what he could - and, gaging Lenny's reaction to her in the too-brief time they had spent as one, she knew for a fact that no woman would ever take her place.

The way they had formed a family unit had been unusual and yet completely normal.  Her father had suffered a stroke, and Edna had walked out on him - leaving Laverne to care for him alone.  Lenny had been the only one to offer her help -often when she didn't ask for it, often when she was barely able to stand up.  They had become lovers out of a need for comfort, but the sex had grown organically out of their friendship - and turned into romance.  She encouraged him to try being a professional musician, and he encouraged her to quit Bardwells and go back to school.  Her father had completely approved of their eventual marriage. Shirley had taken awhile to come around, however...

Two years into their marriage, she had become pregnant with their daughter Robin, and a year later Jordan, their son, arrived – along with a recording contract with Atlantic Records.  Lenny and the Squiggtones had released a first album that won the band decent reviews and a single that shot to number four on the charts on a wave of nostalgia.  Lenny hated leaving her alone with the kids, but they were too young to be globetrotting.  Besides, what fool would turn down opening for the Stones...

"Missus Kosnowski?"

Laverne was jolted out of her memories. 

"Your husband's plane just arrived - we'll escort you to a private waiting area."

"Thanks." Suddenly, her feet had wings.

***

The photographers didn't notice them - with little care for a blossoming opening act, they were busy staking out the Stones' arrival gate.  She had been asked to pose for one picture by a paparazo, but they seemed to have no real interest in Lenny.

He had trudged into the arrival area like a zombie.  In Laverne's eyes, her husband looked like hell - hangdog, exhausted, five pounds too thin, and in need of a shower.  Squiggy, following behind him, didn't look much better - but that was Francine's concern.  He mumbled something about going to their apartment and left them alone.  Relieved, she held Lenny's hand as they waited for his bags.

"I'd rather do sessions from now on," he uttered out of the blue.

That took her aback.  "You're kidding - the band's a huge hit and you want to quit."

"I'm not.  I wanna be with you and the kids."

"I'd rather you do sessions, too," she admitted. "But I don't want you to give up on your dream so soon."

"And give up this glamour?" He snorted.  The bags arrived, but they needed no help.  "Where'd you put the car?"

"Third level."

He groaned, hoisting up his shoulder bag, making the walk sound longer than it was.  It was a minute-long walk to an elevator.

Once the door slipped closed, they were completely alone.  She immediately moved toward him, wrapping her arms around his back and nuzzling his chest.  "I missed you," she confessed. 

Taken aback by the warmth of her presence, his arm drifted around her.  For the moment, they were content to simply hold one another, but Laverne became dissatisfied with this simple contact.  She craned her neck upward, lips parted, eyes closed, and he met her mouth, rubbing her back as they shared a long kiss.

It never took long for their passion to heat - for the kiss to become something more intimate.  He made the first move, snaking his tongue into her mouth.  She groaned as a heat infused her body - her fingers tangled in his hair as his hands moved down her back, toward her buttocks.  Suddenly, she pulled away and, with a wicked smirk, smacked her hand down on the emergency stop button.  The elevator lurched to a violet stop, matching her heart.

Lenny stared at her in horror.  "Whattya doin?"

"Whattya think I'm doin'?" She reached into the space between them, grabbing the front of his white dress shirt and unbuttoning it.

He stared at her fingers blankly for a moment as they raced down his front.  When she parted the shirt and sent teasing fingertips down his chest, lightly scratching him with her nails, he shuddered.  Then a dirty glint appeared in his eyes.

"How much time d'we have?"

"Thirty minutes."

He pulled her against him once more, squashing her hands between their chests, and covered her mouth with his.  This kiss was deeper, more passionate, with a hint of desperation.  He tasted of honey-roasted peanuts and Pepsi - his breath burned her tongue as his own brushed and teased.

She broke their contact again, her eyes filled with teasing humor.  "D'you miss me?" she tickled his nipples, and his head fell backward, smacking against the elevator door.

He groaned.  "Whattya think?"

"Show me."

He gently pushed her away, smirking at the wheeze in her voice - years of marriage to her had given him confidence that she found him arousing.  He dropped his bag, shrugged out of the opened shirt and went to work on his belt buckle.  Laverne stood back, hands on her hips, expression avid and alit with lust.

Buckle loosened, he unzipped the jeans, eyes locked on hers.  They were so connected at this point in their lives that simple eye contact could make Laverne weak in the knees.  "Take 'em off." she ordered.

He mock-simpered and grinned. "Gee, Laverne, I dunno - it's kinda cold in here.  You sure?"

She groaned and made a grab for his hips, but he skirted away from her touch.  Then he tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, tugged the hem lower and lower, revealing his creamy hips inches at a time.  Laverne moaned in frustration, hands going unconsciously to her breast in expression of her desire.  Her hands moved ineffectually in his direction as the jeans cleared his hips, slipping down his thighs and shins to the floor, then stepped out of them. 

He wasn't wearing underwear.

Before Laverne could ask, he confessed, "Easy access, right?"

Her response was an eager gasp.  He stood half-hard simply from kissing her, and just out of reach.  Frustrated by the distance, she closed the gap and pressed her body against his nude one, pinning him against the elevator's wall. He kissed her while fiddling with the edge of her tunic.  Freeing one hand, she grabbed him by the wrist, pulling it up underneath her blouse and against the strap of her bra.  Encouraged, he went to work at unhooking the ever-complicated underwire structure.  Laverne rubbed herself against the front of him, deliberately rubbing his erection against her velvet skirt.  He gave up on the bra, yanking her blouse toward her chin and shimmying her bra down until both of her breasts were exposed. 

Lenny cupped each mound, squeezing them lightly - her head lolled to the side as his fingers worked toward the pink crests of her nipples. 

"Whattya want?" he breathed.

"Pinch 'em."

Still holding both breasts cupped in his palms, Lenny responded with aching slowness, circling her nipple with lazy strokes.  They erected, begging silently for his touch, the areolas wrinkling faintly from the sweet pleasure. 

"Lennn..." she whined.

"Uh-uh," he retorted, kneading her olive-toned flesh.  She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease her frustration, and he noticed.  "You want it bad, don't you?"

Her eyes were starry but amused.  "So do you."

With a naughty smirk, he brushed her cresting nipples with his thumbs.  Her moan was unintelligible but filled with heat.  He repeated the stroke, worrying the buds, making her pulse throb within them unbearably.  Her hands came around, finding the back of his neck, her nails digging into his flesh.

Only then did he begin kneading them.

Laverne whined once more, her mouth dropping open as her eyes fell closed.  Lenny knew how to touch her, for how long and how hard, making the pleasure so exquisite that she wanted to cry.  There had been men before him - men that had given her pleasure - but none that could read her as well, or who cared as deeply about her arousal.  There was something to be said about long-term commitments, she thought wryly; something to be praised in a man who knew your responses inside and out.

She wriggled her brow.  "You planned this."

"I did not!"  He moved his hips deliberately against hers, brushing his cock against her velvet skirt.  "Much."  Then he closed his mouth around her left nipple, enveloping the overheated flesh with relish.

She squawked, her neck falling all the way back, exposing more of her flesh to his eyes.  His tongue danced back and forth against the goose bump-covered flesh before nibbling her nipple with his teeth.  Laverne thrust her chest against his face, her cries becoming louder and more frantic as her nails scored down his back.  He responded by switching breasts, giving equal treatment to its twin.

Lenny's mouth felt incredibly comforting and yet arousing as he caused a sudden sharp sting with his teeth, then laved the tender area with gentle swipes of his tongue.  He switched back and forth between the breasts as Laverne sighed in pleasure, combing her fingers through his hair.  Then, abruptly, he released her, kneeling against his discarded jeans.  He kissed her belly and hips, and then slid down her skirt.

"Ahh..." The caress of the descending velvet sparked an arousal as sweet as he lips.  His arms encircled her hips, pushing her up until she sat on the elevator's handrail, giving him a clearer view of everything below her waist.  Lenny's mouth descended, brushing her pubic hair - it hovered an inch from her pussy.  She pressed her hands against the back of his neck, trying to push him down, but he resisted.

"Nah.  You ain't ready yet."

"Are you joking?" He tone had absolutely no teasing quality to it.

He snickered, nuzzling her belly with his cheeks, his five o'clock shadow bristling against her tender belly.  The frustration was so overwhelming that Laverne lost control of herself, jerking her hips against his hands, and pressing her rear end right against the elevator's button panel.

The elevator promptly began to decline.

Yelping like scalded dogs, the twosome broke apart, frantically tossing their clothing back on. 

"Press the button!" Lenny yelled.

"I can't reach it!" Laverne responded, tripping over her skirt.  Finally, her tunic still riding up over her bra, Laverne untangled her legs and punched the button marked "3" on the panel.  The elevator responded, much to her relief.

Panting, they tried to compose themselves, retrieving the bags and attempting to appear as average as possible.  The elevator stopped, door opening with a ding - waiting to board was a bespeckled woman of about forty.  Whistling, Lenny carried his suitcase over the crotch of his jeans, trying to make his waning erection less obvious.  Laverne smiled politely, carrying her purse with her.  They stepped out and onto the cement concourse, letting the woman pass.

As the door closed, the lady said.  "That is a simply smashing bra."

Laverne turned red, yanking the tunic down over her underwear while Lenny chuckled at her plight.  Once the woman was gone and the lot deserted, she poked him in the ribs.

"Don't make fun of me - you look like you need a writing desk to hide behind."

"Yeah," he grinned.  "Ain't you proud?"

"Yeah," she retorted, taking his hand, playfully leading him across the garage and toward their car.  She found it where she'd left it - in slip seven, a roomy Sedan dwarfed by the cement walls surrounding it on either side.

"You're smart," he uttered, immediately understanding why she had chosen the space - the two pillars were tall and wide enough to prevent prying eyes from seeing what was going on in the cab.  The smoked-out windows added extra protection.

She rummaged through her purse for her keys while he tossed his luggage into the trunk - by the time he was finished, she had found them.  Her hands shook as she unlocked the door to the backseat - she pushed it opened, then turned around to find him standing behind her, watching. 

"Like the view?" she stuck out her rear end - knowing what he appreciated.  She crawled onto the van's plush backseat on her hands and knees, then turned around and dangled her legs off of the edge, splaying her legs provocatively.

His voice came out in a husky rumble.  "I'd like another one better."

She knew what he wanted to see - and she saw no reason why there should be a delay in him doing so.  Grabbing him by the collar, she pulled Lenny inside the van and on top of her. 

For a moment they lay there, across the roomy backseat of the car, making out like horny teenagers at a drive-in.  Wanting more room, Lenny cupped her underarms, pushing her up the seat until she sat propped against the back window, giving him room to shut the door behind them. 

Lemon-colored light from the garage's artificial halogen amps gave the atmosphere an intimate touch.  Dim but bright enough to bring out the glow of sweat on their skin; they began anew the business of teasing each other to the heights of ecstasy.

Laverne kissed her husband's lips again, the kiss invasive, bruising and arousing behind endurance.  He gently pushed her back, breaking the kiss, and she pushed him back toward the other side of the door, until he sat propped against the seat much in the same way she had been sitting moments before.  Shifting into the roomy place between the front and back seats, she reached for his fly.  He met her hand there, unzipping as she unsnapped, until his jeans gaped open.  She reached eagerly through the mysterious darkness, and he didn't impede her progress.

She had missed this - the damp friction of his cock against her palm, the healthy, rosy glow of his sex, the impressive length and girth.  But touching him was the very least of what she needed.

Emerging from his jeans, Lenny's cock reared up, half-hard from his wife's teasing.  Laverne admired him for a breathless moment, the dark pink transparency of his skin gradually going red.  Reverently, she touched the tip of him, smearing moisture across his glans, then down his shaft.  Lenny hissed, head falling down to his chest.  He hated and loved it when she teased him like that. 

"Want me to squeeze it?" She cajoled, echoing her earlier request.  His response was guttural and unintelligible.

Laverne grinned, wrapping her fingers around the velvety heft of him and giving the shaft a gentle squeeze - he groaned again, tried to grab her wrist, but she didn't let go.  She twisted her fist carefully around him, avoiding bending it over, making sure that the only thing that moved was her fist around the aching length of him.  Lenny had a love for that kind of trick - his eyes bugged out and his hands clenched handfuls of the car's interior.  She alternately watched his face and his cock, watching his expression turn antic as his cock reached its full length, its full firmness.  Finally, she caught sight of him looking down at her with one blue eye open. 

"This ain't gonna last long if you keep doing that."

"We've only got twenty minutes, Len."

"Awww," he whined - but then he smiled.  "Guess I do want it as bad as you."

She proved his point by flicking her tongue against the head of his penis.

He growled, his left hand coming to rest upon Laverne's shoulder as his right propped up his head. 

Laverne continued stroking away, gently tugging and releasing, while her lips and tongue laved and sucked at the first few inches of him.  It was an intentional tease, meant to stimulate him to the point of no return - and from his expression, it was working. 

"You surrender, Len?"

He groaned, pulling on her wrist - surrendering without having to say it. 

"Guess not," she teased.  Reaching back into his fly, she gently released his testes from their denim prison, sending her flickering tongue down his shaft and laving at his balls until they stirred. 

That was quite enough for Lenny.  Though she yearned to touch more of his flesh, Laverne allowed him to pull her up onto the seat, switching places so that he occupied her abandoned space on the floor of the car.

When he landed on his knees, he promptly disappeared beneath the folds of her skirt.

Laverne fell back in an elongated sigh - she had taught Lenny how to eat pussy, something he had never done for another girl.  She knew that he had become an expert at her responses just to make her happy, to bring her the fullest pleasure possible, and that he had done this without her requesting it only displayed his love for her.  His tongue whispered like silk over her damp outer lips, tracing them before parting them and slipping between.  Slipping down the damp crevasse, his tongue found the entrance to her body and penetrated it, over and over, imitating what he wanted to do to her with his cock.  Laverne clawed the seat behind her, her hips rolling like an ocean wave.  She pulled her shirt up over her head, pushing down her bra, once more releasing her breasts.  She teased the elongated nipples herself, building her pleasure, making it easier for Lenny to make her come. 

He knew how long to play with her - when she wanted his attention on her clitoris, when she needed to come.  Just as her arousal began to peak he made the switch, flicking his tongue against her clitoris while his fingers replaced his tongue, thrusting strongly inside of her.  Laverne bucked her hips, a long, high-pitched whine coming from her throat.  It was like a signal, a beckoning call - the walls of her pussy clung to his fingers as they thrust through the tightness of her, causing her passion to peak.  She rocked against his mouth, begging for a release he refused to give her.

Emerging from beneath her skirt, his lips shone.  "You surrender, Vernie?"

She grabbed him by the back of the neck, mashing their mouths together, tasting herself inside of him, the richness of her own womanhood. 

She broke away from him, panting.  "Yeah."

He pulled her skirt back down, then over her hips, tossing it to the floor.  Then he discarded his jeans.  Only their shirts kept their naked forms from touching.  She reached over to unbutton him, but he had already scrambled up onto the seat beside her. 

"You wanna be on top?"

"Does a cow moo?" Laverne grinned - on top, her favorite position.  He kissed her bruised lips, guiding her over him.  With his help, she straddled his hips, half-upright.  They aligned their hips before he guided her into position.  Before the ultimate consummation she paused, savoring the situation, feeling him poised to enter, barely parting the petals of her sex. 

Sweat glistened on Lenny's upper lip - he licked it away, staring up at the goddess-like pose Laverne made.  "Baby, please," he whispered.  Laverne felt powerful and ultimately feminine - and in desperate need of an orgasm.

Driven by the overwhelming wonder of it, she sheathed him in one eager movement,   the width and length of him perfect for her and absolutely delightful. 

His arms were around her, holding her body against his as she lowered herself onto his lap, wrapping her thighs around his hips.  For a long moment they sat, joined, frozen - enraptured by the intimacy of the moment without needing the words to express it.  Neither of them made the first move toward friction - gently, they began to rock together - back and forth.  It was about being held at the moment - the physical pleasure of being united as one and the emotional joy of knowing there would never be another separation.

With Lenny, Laverne felt like a kid on Christmas morning - she often didn't want to wait for her pleasure.  When she could no longer stand the suspense she began to rise and fall against him, providing the teasing pleasure they both desired, moving faster and faster with the tempo throbbing between her legs and in her heart.

She looked into his eyes, feeling the desire build, barely able to hold herself back.  His hands were a vise on her hips, trying to hold her down and around him.  Sweat poured down Laverne's face, dripping down her breasts, stinging Lenny's eyes - he buried his face against her chest, kissing the salt from her skin.  Unable to hold more, unable to experience more pleasure, Laverne squeezed herself around him.  Lenny's eyes flew open - blue and unfocused and stunned by the pleasure.  Mirthfully, she stuck her tongue out and squeezed him again.  He groaned, grabbing her by the hips, trying to hold back, to keep her still, but it was too late - a third squeeze brought her to the edge and over it, dragging him over with her.

They held one another, completely exhausted.  Embracing in the warmth of the car, melded together by love and sweat and devotion, there was an unspoken, unbreakable love there.

As she floated through the heady aftermath of their passion, she heard him whisper, "Mick and Keith dunno what they're missing."