Lilli and I: There Will Be Dancing

"Before we go back out, I have to get some cool air on me, just for five seconds," you say, and you turn and walk briskly toward the exit door that gave us a reminder of how wintry it is outside. I start to protest, telling you you're going to freeze to death if you go out there, but you've already sashayed away, emphasizing the movement of your hips and ass as you go, strictly for my benefit. You turn at the door and wink at me, then push it open. A couple standing near it laughs and backs away as they are touched by an invisible icy hand. I'm impressed with your courage as you disappear ever so briefly.

Waiting for you to return, I look around at the crowd, noticing how anxious everyone seems for the music to start up again. Drinks are bought, lines form at the railings above, and some couples remain embraced on the dance floor, vibing gently to their own internal melodies, unwilling to stop moving entirely or just too worked up to do so voluntarily. Men and women stand closer together than they ever have, having become entranced with each other. Many have never seen each other dress this way, move this way, be so physical. All the elements are here tonight: the late hour, the alcohol, the bass, the forced closeness, the sense that we're all here to do something just a little bit naughty....

The exit door opens again and you reappear, rubbing your hands on your arms. You run forward to me, laughing.

"Worse than you thought, right?" I ask.

"Twice as bad, but I feel incredible!" your reply. "Come on, I'll show you some bravery." You take my hand and perfectly, the music is cued up again right then. This time the DJ is not holding anything back; he's decided to get things going with an absolutely thunderous techno tune. The lights change again, throwing the dance floor into a shadowy panoply of dark purple splashes and swirling shadows. The crowd erupts in a cheer and starts to move again.

We are quick and reclaim our spot on the floor easily, but things are a bit tighter now and we have a little less room to move. It doesn't stop you from starting right away to go through every one of your sweet moves. You sidle up close to me and dance, eyes closed, shaking your torso hard to the rapid beat. I rest my hands on your hips and follow. Before I know it, you've undone almost the last of my shirt buttons, so that just the bottom two are still intact. Your hand dives in again and presses on my stomach, which is getting truly slick with sweat. I squeeze your hips a little. Bodies have moseyed in tight all around us now, pitched in silhouette, purple illumination shining on the tops of our heads.

You look at me and grin, and then press yourself hard against me, your breasts crushing against my bare chest, your skirt rubbing against my jeans, our knees touching every few seconds as we flow. Your hands spread out across my chest and then exit my shirt to move around my body and grab my lower back. From there, they skate down over my ass and then stop, gripping it. I decide to fight fire with fire and lower my own hands to your skirt and down to the same place, giving you one squeeze and letting go.

"Put those hands right back!" you shout, and I can't really tell if you're joking or not. But I do as you say, lightly touching your ass, not making too big a show of it should anyone notice. In response, you sway your hips and lean back to let me support more of your weight with my hands, enjoying the feel of my touch on your bottom.

You're getting brave indeed. I let go of you and take the opportunity of you leaning back so vulnerably to draw my moist palms across your exposed stomach. It's very warm and I catch a little bead of sweat running down from underneath your top. I press it into your flesh and rub it around. You look down to see what I'm doing and you yourself lift the bottom of your tank top to watch my hand rub you. I take a playful poke at your bellybutton and you seem to like it. You pull the fabric of your top up even higher, so that it's folded just beneath your breasts again, and you back away from me, intentionally disheveled, so that I can see your entire body dance.

You throw your head this way and that, all wild hair and swooping arcs, the music surging through you. As you shake, you dare to place a hand beneath each breast, cupping them. My eyes go wide as you hold them like that, and I'm stunned to see you use your hands to push the fabric clinging to them up, up....and suddenly the bottoms of your breasts can be seen below your top. Stopping in mid-turn, I gaze at them for just a second before you move your hands away and the hem of your tank top falls back into place. You see the effect this has had on me and you obviously appreciate and relish it. You shimmy forward, keeping in rhythm, to lean in and kiss me hard, once, and then you back away again.

What happens next is almost hard to believe. When you're absolutely sure I'm watching and my attention isn't distracted in the least, you reach two fingers into your cleavage and dip them downwards. I move forward to ask you cheerfully if you've lost your mind, but before I can, your fingers emerge again with something in them. Getting very close, I see that you're holding your panties in your hand. It comes to me that you must have taken them off and hidden them when you stepped outside into the cold air. You smile at my look of astonishment and you crumple the red satin material in your fist, then, still moving with the beat, you shove them inside the front pocket of my jeans. No one has seen your little gambit but me. Everyone's too lost in the music and the shadows.

"Well done!" I shout at you when your hand retracts from my pocket. "Did anyone see you when you took them off?!"

You just nod again and again, as if to say: Definitely. You snuggle up to me with renewed vigor and make sure our crotches are touching. The thought of you naked beneath your short skirt makes me a little woozy. In just a few seconds I'm bulging against the front of my jeans again and my arms tighten around you, my hands gliding down over your ass.

Now you latch hold of the waistband of my jeans again, keeping both hands secured just above the zipper as if for balance as we dance, your hands invisible beneath the tail of my black shirt. I nuzzle your hair and bring my hands up to your shoulders, which I massage as we move. We make prolonged eye contact, both of us getting seriously in the mood for mutual physical expression. As the song shifts in tone and the lights begin to alternate between pink and green, I look down briefly and feel the button of my jeans unsnap.

"Too far, too far!" I shout into your ear, obviously meaning just the opposite. You nod and tilt your face up to me, closing your eyes as if slipping into a dream. We both sway and rock without pause. I feel the waistband of my jeans loosen even more and I realize your fingers have taken my zipper down a few inches. Now this is really a bit of a problem, because I have no underwear on. I kiss your lips and call you crazy even as my hands fondle your luscious ass.

"Just keeping you enthused!" you shout back. Enthused isn't the word for it. Your hands could be doing anything under my shirt tail. I feel the fingers of your right hand pressing on my zipper. You let it stay in its half-undone state and instead you apply direct pressure to my crotch, running your hand downwards and giving me a most intense full-handed pinch before you pull away.

You start to dance for me and me alone now, not letting me look away or drift off into my own reverie for even a second. Your hands glide from the tops of your breasts down over them and then down your legs as you bend over and swing your hips, the beat thundering on. You turn around and your hands caress your ankles, then rise up, remaining on your skin, as your arms cross and you stroke your inner thighs all the way up to the hem of your black skirt--and beneath it. The skirt rises to mid-thigh.

This time I come to you, and we dance together as I wait for one brief lull in the music so I can kiss your ruby lips. The lull never seems to come, as we segue into the middle of an extended mix designed to keep everyone in the place rolling. I keep my face close to yours and clasp your hands in mine. You stretch them out, away from our bodies, as your gaze turns downward again, to my waist, where I'm getting hard for the second time. This time it's more noticeable and more dangerous, as I've been halfway exposed and am relying precariously on my shirt tail to cover me up. But you're intent on causing more trouble.

You grind your hips against mine and bury your face in my chest. You guide one of my outstretched arms down to my side, and then you pull my right hand between us. You look up at me and my hand is pulled down toward your thigh. Your mouth forms two words with no sound: Touch me.

My hand rests against your thigh and I struggle to keep it there amidst the motions of your hips. I move my hand up, under your skirt, quickly, our bodies connected tightly enough so that no one can see. My hand brushes something moist. I draw one finger across your vulva and feel it tickle your warm pubic hair on its way out from under the leather. The tip of my finger is wet. I smile and raise it up between us. You close your eyes and open your mouth, moving your head forward to take it between your lips. After one soft suck in which you take all the moisture from your pussy onto your tongue, you reach up to my hand and clasp it again, pulling it forward to your left breast. When it's placed firmly upon it, I squeeze.

You spin around on a downbeat and grind into me, taunting my erection, which is so prominent I'm afraid to dance to the fullest extent. Your hands reach back behind you and without looking they both find their way under my shirt and into my jeans. Your fingers tug at the thatch of hair they find there. It's both mildly painful and entirely fantastic. Then they dexterously find the tiny nub of my zipper and force it all the way down at once. Concealed by my shirt, my penis rises out of my jeans and presses against the back of your skirt. I throw my arms around you, breathing hard, and pull your body tightly against mine, an emergency move really, because there's no good way to hide myself and I need your amazing body to shield me now.

"You asked for it!" I shout as I draw my tongue across your neck. I take a quick look around as our hips gyrate, my penis snug against your skirt, and judge it still shadowy enough on the dance floor to lean over, bending you with me, and reach under your skirt again, this time with a purpose of my own. My fingers feel for your pussy and two of them sink into that hot wet flesh. I almost immediately pull my hand away before we're noticed. You turn around, grab the hand that touched you between your legs, and you suck on the fingers that teased you. You keep sucking long after there's no more juice there and give me a look of drop-dead lust.

Your hand disappears beneath my shirt and dives into my jeans. For a brief second my penis is visible and I throw my shirt tail over it. Then you're palming my balls, actually palming them as we dance, and kissing my chest through my open shirt. My cock, completely hard, yearns forward but you won't touch it. Your hand massages well beneath it, making me almost swoon, and then, suddenly, you're gone entirely, laughing, leaving me and diving between two couples toward a different spot on the dance floor, turning and beckoning me with one curling finger as you go. I zip up my jeans in one rapid motion and follow you, but I've lost you in the blink of an eye in the deep-hued shadows and the flurry of bodies that form wall after wall against my footsteps. I go to where I think you went but I see no silver tank top, no black skirt, no flowing hair.

Then I feel hot breath on my neck and you slapping the rear of my jeans. I turn and there you are, shaking and swaying, tossing your hair around, grabbing my shirt collar.

"You gotta keep up!" you yell, and then you bend over and your head descends to my waist. You yank my shirt up and press your mouth into the hair above my stiff cock, which actually grazes the underside of your chin. I place my hands on your back to keep you down there, a challenge, and right away I see a couple catch sight of us, and they grin and keep watching. You straighten up again and shimmy your back against me, and seeing the face of the college girl who took in the sight of you nearly kissing my shaft on the dance floor, you tip her a hearty wink. She looks at you in wonderment and tries her best to concentrate on her partner again.

You throw your arms back around my neck and we rock in a constant back-and-forth motion through a long stretch of repetition in the music. My cock, half-restrained by my jeans, rubs through the denim and against the back of your skirt. You can feel it wanting to tear right through the leather and find your flesh. I push into you over and over again from behind and you let your hips be guided by mine until we're performing a most convincing simulation of energetic rear-entry sex. We get sweatier and sweatier and more and more dizzy with lust.

The song has reached its apex. I decide to abandon all pretense, and as we imitate fucking I force my hand beneath your skirt once more and move your sweaty thighs apart. You obey my hand completely and my index finger searches for anything wet and warm. I find what I'm looking for instantly and my fingertips are bathed in moisture.

You start to move less with your hips and more with your ankles, keeping up the tempo of our fully clothed pretend-fuck while making it easier for me to finger you beneath your skirt. As I come to realize that our bodies are in perfect position to hide anything that happens at waist level, I begin to rub your soaking wet clit. In the midst of your dancing your body jerks once with pleasure and then you sink your hips a few inches lower to let me know you want more. My fingers make fast circular motions on your secret petal.

There's neither time nor opportunity for technique, for a slow approach, for subtlety. I try to get you off hard and fast, masturbating you with reckless swirls and then a repetitive firm stroke directly on your tender clit. I hear you whimpering and you reach back, fumbling with the zipper of my jeans, drawing it down as you try to maintain your balance and keep dancing. You reach in and I finally feel your fingers on my long thick cock, which you grab desperately and stroke with a speed usually saved for when I'm just about to come. Of course, I'm not too far away from that moment, and I squeeze my eyes shut to both absorb and fight the pleasure you cause.

I hear you cry out over the music as the furious motions of my fingers cause your pussy to thrum and perspire uncontrollably. As the pleasure we cause each other increases, so do our body temperatures and we're moist all over now. We couldn't care less. You're blindly pulling on my cock and it gets more and more slick, your hand spreading my pre-cum up and down the shaft with fierce velocity, begging me to come all over your skirt. At the same time your pussy is so wet my hand feels like it's been run under a warm faucet.

Nothing can stop us from making each other come now, and even though it's going to get us kicked out of here and banned from Horizon forever, there's nothing we can do to control ourselves....

But control is forced upon us with great suddenness when the song above our heads comes to a quick close and the lights are turned halfway up. You let out a frustrated "Oh!" and straighten your back, breathing so rapidly your face is completely flushed. You let go of my cock and I quickly conceal it in my jeans again, the immediate friction of it brushing against the denim almost causing me to release my sperm right there and then. You turn to me, your hair dangling in your face, and laugh through your hands, then straighten your skirt and your top. You push your face into my chest to hide it, thinking that your expression will reveal to everyone around us what we've been doing.

"Those bastards!" I yell, finally regaining myself, wiping a hand across my forehead, kissing the top of your head. You'd rather have one on the lips and tilt your head up to coax it out of me.

"I think we have something to do at home," you tell me, and we kiss once more before mutually and wordlessly deciding to take each other's hand and turn for the exit. We angle our way through the throng, past two bars, walking side by side with our arms around each other, gazing into each other's eyes. It's going to be almost a half hour till we get back indoors and alone, and I'm wondering what the ride back is going to be like, if there's any way we can dare to keep our lust at its peak. Considering how bold we got on the dance floor, surely the operation of a car won't keep us from getting creative....we stop at coat check to collect our heavy coats and pull them on as we head out into the cold.

We go from hot and bothered to freezing and tortured in less than five seconds. The late night outside is frosty and quiet, and the lack of sensory input is as much a shock to the system as the temperature. Icy breath billows from our mouths as we hurry toward the dark parking lot. We can hear the thumping of the beat on the secondary dance floor through Horizon's high outer walls. People pass us hurrying in.

Halfway to the car you stop me, and when I turn, you move against my body and lean in for another kiss. You're so turned on that the weather just can't force you to rush. I run my hands through your hair and kiss you back, and we rub our bodies together to create some body heat. I start to get hard again even as the icy wind makes my cheeks hurt.

"I want you so bad," you whisper to me, and kiss me again, moving your lips all over mine, reaching down to my crotch and stroking it.

"You're going to get me, very very soon," I say, and sink to my knees quickly, my knees connecting hard with gravel. Before you even have time to register what I'm doing, I push my head just under your skirt to deliver one kiss on each of your thighs. I pop back up again to receive your gentle purr of approval and start guiding us to the car again. It seems impossible that we have to drive so far to find a place to satisfy each other. It isn't right. Something must be done.

The car appears in view and we pick up our pace, responding to the natural instinct to make a dash for a warm place. You move to the passenger's side door and I dig out my keys to open it for you. That's when I decide that a half hour is simply too long to wait.

I twist my key in the lock but instead of opening the door for you I put my hands on your shoulders and turn you to me. I'm shocked to see that the look on your face is a knowing one, as if you knew exactly why I stopped you.

"You want to feel some real cold?" I ask you in a low voice. You don't answer, just let my hands take hold of your coat and push it back off your shoulders. You allow your arms to go slack and the coat slides down them. I reach down and take it away from you. The winter chill invades your body all at once and you shiver but don't resist my guidance. Your eyes close when a gust of wind comes up from the south and blows through your hair, freezing your delicate skin. You breathe in and out rapidly, fighting the temperature.

"Just let all your muscles relax," I tell you. You take a deep breath and keep your eyes closed. I reach out and my fingers touch the cold hem of your tank top, and then lift it. I stop and release the fabric when the bottoms of your breasts are exposed.

"Can you take it?" I ask you, and you nod, half-smiling. When I take hold of the fabric again, you raise your arms into the air, and I pull your top up over your breasts and off you entirely. You stand before me topless in the cold, your rosy nipples hard. Your eyes open and you shiver again as I open the rear door of the car and toss your tank top inside. I leave the door open. You arch your back and fight the maddening urge to wrap your arms around yourself.