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"You got too close!"
Feebee sang as she spilled her bright red hair across the thick turquoise throw-rug behind her, gently laying her nude body upon its surface. Her porcelain skin shimmered under the fluorescent lights above as she dragged an inch-tall, writhing woman along her left nipple. Gently biting her lower lip while watching the pair of tiny hands attempt to fight against the quickly-hardening mound, she couldn't suppress the tinge of sadness thrumming through her chest. Her eyebrows furrowed in a mockery of sadness as she watched the minuscule woman's writhing, holding her upside-down by her ankle. Having been doing this in the green room before shows for twenty years, she couldn't help but feel it was a bit "off" now that she was hanging out with women her daughter's age.
Hearing the younger woman gag as she dragged her against her pubic hair, Feebee jumped in surprise, responding to a sharp, painful tug at one of the strands.
Whipping the tiny woman up to her face, Feebee squinted, staring down the woman that had been brought to her. Red face glinting with tears, disheveled brown hair, a pair of glasses with a lens missing, and, as she suspected, she looked to be in her early twenties. Someone just plucked out of the audience and literally served on a platter. The singer puckered her lips gently, pressing the soft surface against the tiny face before landing a wet, tender kiss. Her pair of glasses torn away by a cord of saliva, Feebee ran her pointer finger along the back of the woman's head, as though to comfort her. She felt a tense quivering through her sweat-and-saliva-soaked hair.
"Shh, it's okay, sweetie." She kissed her again, causing Feebee to feel two points of pressure upon her lower lip. A rush of regret washed through her, thinking about what it'd be like if her daughter were going through this. Someone from the local college trying to let loose on the weekend, it could have been anyone. Looking down at the tiny woman with a kind gaze, she smiled. "This part doesn't hurt. Shhh..."
Sparing her a slow drag, Feebee quickly slipped the struggling woman up her already-soaking vagina. Her jaw shot back, her back arched, and she gasped upon receipt of such a flutter of motion in such a sensitive area. Softly swirling two fingers near her clitoris, she rolled around the turquoise throw rug, experiencing the transcendent sensation of a vulnerable part of her body being powerful enough to overwhelm an entire human being. Each thrust she felt between her legs was someone desperately trying to cling to their lives and all she needed to do was breathe deeply.
Fishing the drenched, coughing woman from her sopping crotch, Feebee lifted the drizzling fan from between her thighs before gingerly depositing the quivering body upon her tongue's center crevice. Cradling her in a bubble of mucus-ridden saliva, the forty-five year old singer experienced a sense of rejuvenation. Her fans, both inside and out, were equally enthusiastic.