Dance Floor Angel

I had been watching you all night. I, and the rest of the male population of the bar, of course. A fairly sizable portion of the women were watching as well, some with jealousy, some with lust. Your whirling, twirling and tantalizing body had electrified the crowd. Even on such a crowded dance floor, necks were craned, fingers were pointed, ears whispered in. Nobody wanted to miss a single second of you. It had gone far beyond dancing now. Over the course of half an hour, you had become one with the music. The baseline was your heartbeat. The lyrics were your conscience. The rhythm was your soul. The trance was complete, as shown by the number of guys who had tried to dance with you, and one by one, they skulked away, tails in-between their legs. It was not that you had rejected them. No, it was much worse: you didn't even know they were there. You were lost to the world, wrapped up in high hats and treble clefts.

So, what reason did I have to believe it would be any different for me? I had none, so I acted accordingly. Half buzzed, I slipped away from my friends to grab another drink at the bar, keeping you in my sights for as much of the journey as possible. I chugged down one glass, looking for the courage at the bottom, and made my way back to my seat with a bottle of beer. Then, propelled either by fate, or by rum, I decided I had to be closer to you, as if I were on a pilgrimage, and I was hoping to gain enlightenment just by being in your presence. My nerves would only allow me to get so close, however, and thus there I stood at the edge of the dance floor. There I stood, in a haze of alcohol, desire, and pumped-in smoke. There I stood, enthralled by this tornado of dancing elegance when suddenly you opened your eyes and looked straight into mine.

I was in shock, struck by a bullet. The look in your eyes seemed as if you were expecting me to be there, a small moment in the universe's great plan, to which only you were privy. Not only was I supposed to be there, but now I was the only one there. The crowd did not disappear, it just didn't matter anymore. I had crossed over, and in your world we were the only ones who mattered. As you took my hand, and led me towards the middle of the dance floor, I was able to take in your body fully. Your long brunette hair was once curled, but wound up attractively out of place. The sheen from your sweat made your body glow in the ever changing lights above us, and the black dress you wore had been teasing the crowd all night with flashes of what was beneath it. In short, I was in heaven, and holding my hand was one of God's own angels, and when you turned back to me and smiled, I swear I heard a choir sing. Consequently, all actions from then forward were much, much less heavenly, for then, we began to dance.

In actual fact, dancing doesn't even begin to describe what took place. We were connected in passion, attached at the hips as the music took you over once again. With my hands on your hips, and yours wrapped around my neck, we swayed to the rhythm, our bodies completely in sync. Your ass was grinding into crotch, giving my already half hard cock a reason to stand at full attention. It seemed the harder I got, the more you grinded into me, and I was certainly not complaining. Encouraged by your enthusiasm, and by the beer I just finished, I decided to see how long my luck would last. Sliding my hand down your leg, I quickly reached the end of your dress, and felt your silky smooth leg. I stroked your leg up and down then, expecting you to stop me at any moment, I slowly moved my hand up your leg and underneath your dress. You just pressed against me even more. I took it as a sign, and continued my journey up your leg, cupping your ass in my hand and squeezing tight. Then, filled with trepidation and booze, I moved my hand towards the front of your body and cupped your pussy, your panties already wet, either from sweat, or lust. Still, the long-awaited hand to push me away never came, and then lust pushed all fear and doubt out of my mind.

As I traced the outline of your clit through your underwear, you grinded into me harder than ever before, and you pulled my head down to give me the most passionate kiss I could ever dream of. Our tongues tangled in each other's mouths, my hand began to play with your clit in earnest, my gentle tracing became impassioned rubbing, in small quick circles, as an involuntary moan caused you to break off our kiss. Growing even bolder, I pulled your panties to the side, and in one swift motion, I ran my fingers over your clit, down your pussy and slid them inside you, eliciting a moan that would've stopped the room, had they been able to hear you over the thundering baseline. Immediately finding your sweet spot, I pressed into you harder, and you felt my hard cock pressing into the small of your spine, as my fingers explored your inner walls. Suddenly, you were no longer dancing with me, as much as you were holding on to me for support, as you felt your orgasm building inside of you. I worked my fingers harder, and faster, and I knew my goal had been achieved when I felt your nails dig into the back of my neck as your legs began to tremble.

Almost immediately, I snapped to my senses, as if I had just woken from a dream. As I removed my fingers from your dripping pussy, I expected you to turn around and slap me at any second, and turn around you did. However, the look in your eyes was not anger, but pure sex, and before I knew it, you had lifted my still wet fingers to your lips, and licked your juices from them with such vigour that I felt my cock throb almost to the point of explosion. Still holding my hand, you led me to the nearest empty booth. As soon as we sat down, you were on me again, kissing my lips and my neck, whispering words into my ear that were anything but angelic. Your hand ran over my chest and down my abs as they dove for my pants, unzipping my fly, and giving my cock the attention is so sorely desired. Your hand wrapped my shaft as you began to pump in maniacally, as I struggled not to cum immediately, wanting this to last as long as possible as my body begged for release.

Then, as if an answer to an unspoken prayer, you straddled my legs, and while looking straight into my eyes, slid my cock inside of you until it was buried to the hilt, slowly, as you knew too much action would attract the attention of the crowd, or worse, the security. There we stayed, each of our eyes locked on the other's as you felt my cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you. Then, ever so slightly, you began to slide up and down on my cock, feeling it stretch the walls of your pussy as it filled you up again and again each time you slid to the bottom. The self-control was immense, our slow grind that belonged to us alone, and was not for prying eyes. My hands on your hips helped us keep the teasingly slow pace, protecting us from ourselves. However, not even the slow pace could save me from explosion that had been building since I first laid eyes on you. Sensing my cock growing bigger inside you, telegraphing the oncoming orgasm, you slid down on to me one final time, so that you felt me as deep as possible as erupted inside of you, unleashing my cum inside of your waiting pussy. As you felt me cumming inside of you, you grinded your clit into my hips, bringing you to your second explosive orgasm of the night, and making your body limp and draped in my arms.

We sat there for another minute or two, my cock still throbbing inside of you, though in my mind we could've spent eons in that booth. Then, regaining your strength, you gave me one last kiss on the lips, and slid my cock out of you, stood up from the booth, smoothed your dress down into position, and walked away. I was left as dumbfounded at the end as I was at the beginning, and aside from my rumpled pants, I knew no one would ever believe me. I praised and cursed you, as I attempted to make some sense of what just happened. As I stood up from the booth, still shaking my cobwebs loose, I saw what was unmistakably a pair of black panties on the floor. Without hesitation, I picked them up, and put them in my pocket, knowing it would be the last I would ever see of you, my 21st century Cinderella, my dance floor angel.