Hannah sang her lungs out. The man on the stage was her favorite of all time and had been for years. She knew every word of every song. She knew when his voice warbled and when it cracked. She had listened to and obsessed over him for most of her life. And now the thought of having his d**k in her mouth was what got her off when she fingered her own c**t. As far as David Sinclair, pop star, actor, and legend was concerned, Hannah was just another screaming fan out in the void.
It didn’t matter how close she could get to the stage, it would never be enough. There was no such thing as close enough until she could breathe the same air, inhale his breath, touch his skin. Lick his sweat.
This was the fifth time she had seen him in concert. He didn’t tour as much anymore, and the price of tic
