Bee’s Story My Story Ch. 16 by tlvanitycard
“Hi everyone! I know it’s been a wait, and I’m sorry for that… but unfortunately, 2020 hasn’t been entirely kind to us. What an understatement, huh? But it’ll make more sense as you read on. I want to thank those of you who have been so incredibly understanding, supportive, patient, and sweet to me over the past few months. I can’t believe I’ve been sharing my story like this for over a year now! And I still can’t believe where my life has taken me/us. I can’t express how grateful I am to you all for being such a good outlet for me, for letting me be vulnerable and honest. For reading my posts, and sometimes even caring about my well being. I have more to say at the very end of this post, but I don’t want to delay what you’re all here for any longer.
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Thursday, December 12th 2019
We haven’t seen a whole lot of each other since Thanksgiving. I’m continually surprised at how easy it can be to live in the same house and have the kind of intimacy we share and just not see each other. With Christmas coming, he’s been buried in his homework and cramming for finals. He hasn’t seemed as stressed as he has in the past, but he’s definitely exhausting himself with the workload. I haven’t been putting in too much overtime in the lead up to the end of the year, but I’ve been working my ass off during my normal hours.
I came home at about midnight tonight, to find him at his desk working diligently. I feel like he’s looked like that every time I’ve seen him lately. Hyper focused, clacking away at the keyboard. I felt bad, and I had to urge him to take a break from typing up the big report he was working on tonight, because I knew he needed the break, and I hadn’t gotten to feed him all week. It’s weird to think how much my body misses the act when it’s been a few days. Even if I’m taking care of myself and expressing in the shower or bath before bed, my breasts still ache for him to drink from me. I sat on his bed, pulled my top up over my boobs, and he wordlessly licked his lips and came to me. He gently drank from me and I sighed with contentment, trying not to let the heat building between my legs cloud my thoughts.
I gently ran my fingers through his hair, humming softly. Usually when I do this it’s a kind of understanding between us that this is just a feeding and not a prelude to sex. Otherwise I let myself give in to the pleasure and I become a writhing submissive puddle under him and he pretty much has no choice but to take advantage of my state. But as he closed his eyes and drew the milk from me, I couldn’t help but notice how hard he was. His pajama pants tented, his length bowed and throbbing. What kind of sister would I be if I just left him like that?
“Do you want me to take care of that?” I asked. Only because I knew if we started something we might get carried away and spend a little more time engaged with each other than he could afford tonight.
He unlatched, and looked a little pained as he inhaled deeply, thinking it over. “I would love that but… let’s save it for tomorrow?” He offered, looking like he was regretting the choice.
I nodded and agreed, encouraging him to continue drinking, and as he did, I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him. I used my free hand to keep my exposed nipple stimulated, and breathed deeply as I savored the warmth of the moment. Before long I felt his suckling slow down and weaken until it came to a stop completely, and he unlatched. I opened my eyes and looked down to find he’d fallen asleep in my lap. I almost laughed at the realization, and then I felt bad as I understood how tired he’d been. I whispered his name, and tried to nudge him a little, or as much as I could while he was half on top of me. I was so torn between letting him get the sleep he so clearly needed and trying to wake him up so he could decide whether he wanted to keep working or not. I’d have been content to stay there all night for him if it meant him getting some much needed rest. But I relented and softly called to him until he woke up. It was apparently the right choice, because while he initially looked at me and my exposed chest with calm warmth, he quickly startled as he realized he still had work to do, he thanked me, told me he loved me and moved back to his desk.
I excused myself and told him if he wanted more milk I’d be in the bath. I played some Pokémon in bed for a little bit and wrote most of this before I ended up falling asleep, before he could come to me if he was going to. I woke up to pee a few minutes ago, and it’s about 4:30AM and he’s still typing. I’ll leave him be, but I hope he’s not overworking himself.
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Friday, December 13th 2019
I worked a little later than intended tonight, and had to go straight to the club afterward. It was my last weekend performing until my usual big New Years Eve show, but since we’re in the heavy shopping weekends before Christmas, it was a very chill, small crowd. I only do half sets on nights when my day job runs late, but I hadn’t eaten almost all day and I was really feeling the effects. My head was kind of pounding by my third song. On nights like this, when the crowd is small, and typically full of regulars, I’ll often choose a random table to sing my last solo number to, and give the guests a little special treatment, sitting on their table, putting my hands on their shoulders or something, eye contact to make them feel like the song is for them, getting them a little involved (think how I treated my brother during the first show he saw, but maybe a little more reserved). USUALLY it’s all in good fun, as the manager is very protective of me and keeps people in line when alcohol is involved.
So when I reached my last song, Santa Baby, I chose a table a little further from the stage so the lights wouldn’t be in my face as much. I made it through the song, and the man I sang to was some older gentleman I realized I didn’t recognize once I had adjusted to the low lights. I had mistaken him for a regular, but he had a warm smile and I wasn’t about to change to another table now that the song had started. Near the end though, I leaned against his table as I sang the last few notes to him, and I was starting to feel a little lightheaded from not eating.
I think I would have been fine and would have made it backstage to my dressing room had he not decided to put his hand on my thigh. He rubbed my leg, and let his fingers slip into the slit on the hip of my dress slightly, where he squeezed the back of my thigh lightly, just under my butt. No one ever touches me like that (when I’m performing at least), maybe they’ll take my hand to help me down from the table or the stage, or kiss my hand at the end of a song, or they’ll put their hands at my waist to dance for a few bars, but this was definitely toeing the line and it startled me. It happened so fast that I didn’t react until he squeezed. The song was over, and I quickly stepped away from the man, but the shock and the lightheadedness I was already feeling made me dizzy, and I stumbled. I rolled my ankle and fell back onto the stage, landing on my butt. The band quickly surrounded me and I felt overwhelmed, and was having trouble focusing, but as they asked me if I was okay, I told them I needed something to eat, and hand waived their concern, trying to play it cool. I was feeling embarrassed being the center of attention like this and not feeling in control.
The bassist quickly went back behind the bar and into the kitchen, and through the gap he made I could see the guy that had touched me was putting his wallet away and leaving. The regulars who were left were clearly concerned, and helped me to my feet, and I sucked the air in through my teeth as I realized my ankle was tender.
“Yo, get some ice for her while you’re back there!” Someone called out.
“Yup!” I heard the bassist respond from the kitchen.
The manager came to dote on me and helped walk me back to my dressing room while I did my best to nonchalantly say goodnight to the people who were still left and clearly worried. The rest of the band stayed on stage to do some instrumentals while the hostess watched the floor to close down the club.
“Sweetheart, you okay?” The manager asked when he got me to the love seat in my dressing room. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead to check my temperature.
“I’m fine! I’m sorry, I think I just overdid it today. I didn’t eat enough before coming in tonight because I got carried away at work.” I swatted his hand away. “Fuck, do I really look that bad?”
He shook his head and smiled. “You look mint, as always. But you GOTTA take care of yourself, please! You know you can always take a night to yourself if you need it, especially on nights like this when you know it’s gonna be slow. You’re our star, and we want to make sure you’re shining every time you grab that mic.”
I rolled my eyes but at the same time, they started to sting. “I know, I’m sorry-”
“You don’t need to be apologizing to any of us. You still killed it tonight, but you worried us there for a second.”
I felt my cheeks grow hot. I swallowed and cleared my throat before my voice barely crackled out, “‘Hey, I uh… that guy I was singing to at the end there…” I started- only to be interrupted by the bassist coming back with a ziplock full of ice, a bowl of pretzels, and an apple. He urged the food into my hands, and I quickly took a bite out of the apple, as he helped me turn so he could sit next to me and elevate my ankle across his lap. He gently slipped my heel off of my foot, and pressed the bag of ice to my ankle. I thanked him and winced, stifling a yelp by taking another bite out of the apple.
“What were you saying?” The manager asked, bringing my attention back to what I was trying to tell them.
“Well… he got a little too friendly for my comfort… and that was what threw me off……plus the lack of food… and long day…” I trailed off under my breath. The manager immediately stiffened, his mouth a tight line, and his features suddenly serious.
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