tagGroup SexOlympic-sized Night

Olympic-sized Night

byKev H©

Author's warning: If you don't want anything to cheapen the magic of the Olympics, do not read this story.


I'm writing this through Kev for several reasons: first, I'm a chicken. He says I'm not, that I'm strong for dealing with my demons, but I have no interest in taking this public.

Secondly, I fear I'd never tell the story well enough, and he's given me the encouragement and word choice to make sure this becomes available, to give something back, I guess.

For a long time, I've fantasized to stories online; it's safe and easy, and they make me feel so sexy and so...bothered. Being in top physical shape tends to build a very active drive, and not just for the gold, you know? But before a week ago, I'd never imagined—never in a million years—that I'd be the subject of a steamy story. I want to be known for my consistently good lap times, for my long career, not for my...well, you'll see. And of course, it sets a very bad example, which is also why I almost chickened out.

But as Kev says, some things just need to be told. Well, here goes...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Most girls probably think this of themselves, but I really am a good dancer. Of course, I'm toned and quick, but I'm also adaptive—I build in whatever is happening around me in a split-second, turning it to my advantage. I hope it looks sexy, because that's how it makes me feel.

I am no stranger to getting touched in clubs, to showing off my body by allowing the not-so-innocent contact. Okay, honestly, I encourage it, but the fun of the moment, the art, demands it. So when we first arrived in China to train and found out about an underground dancing club, well, of course we had to check it out.

Chaperones are a joke, by the way. While they're tasked with keeping our focus on our medal goals (our training and drive does a fine job of that, thank you very much), it's a simple matter to get around them—young people need to blow off steam sometimes. As do our guardians. As do the publicly prudish Chinese, apparently.

Anyway, it also probably helps that we're not in one of the "spotlight" teams; my best friend worked out the details for us to enjoy an unescorted night out. We needed to be so careful, but the thrill was magnetic. There's safety in numbers, unless you don't want to get caught, so we decided it would just be us two, even if I know others would want to go. Just not worth the risk.

I won't detail our sneakiness, but we found a reliable driver who took us to the outskirts of Beijing. It's such an amazing city! I mean, the games in Athens were cool, but this... So huge and so packed, yet the people are constantly on their most courteous behavior and so willing to be helpful. If the government wasn't so scary, I'd bet this place would be one of the hotspots, right up there with New York.

Our driver knew where we were going, and in halting English, told us yet again to be careful and call him whenever we needed him. It probably took us forty-five minutes to drive there, but I honestly don't know if the club was far away or a block away from our rooms—all I know is I was already in the mood for some magic. Bring it on!

My bud kept pointing things out and laughing about the fun we were going to have and asking if I was ready—she was nervous, which made me more nervous, but I didn't dwell on it. When our driver announced the place as he parked, I squeezed my friend's hand before opening my door.

"I will be close," he assured us before we could even ask, and as my friend handed him a bill, she also gave him a peck on the cheek—what a charmer! Had I thought about it, I'd have done so too to keep our link with our room.

The place had to be hidden, of course, and the doorman was as plain as the outside of the small building. I did grin as we went through a second set of doors that would mute the noises from the street—it was a slick setup, and as the second guy opened the door for us, the low throb slammed into focus, and my inner beast was already moving me. It wasn't huge, nor was it packed, but it was early for those of us who had to sneak around, more things we had in common with these enthusiasts.

In fact, the strolling lights revealed—beyond the rounded faces and slender eyes—the same set of lithe, suave bodies that moved and grooved. There was probably the exact same mix of posers and music lovers that I'm used to. On so many levels, the place reminded me of home. It gave me a funny feeling of solidarity, you know? We are, after all, the same, under all the fake rules—at least, us young and wild people are! And I'll say it while I can: fuck those who aren't.

My bud yelled in my ear, asking if I wanted a drink before starting. She should know better! I pulled her with me to the floor and dove right in. At first, my friend and I danced with each other, laughing and reveling in our momentary freedom. But I never dance with only one person, even if she is my best friend, so I began to incorporate the people around me. Some were okay dancers, some were pretty bad, but we were all having fun. With the way we were attracting admirers, I knew we'd not have to buy a drink all night—good thing, because I brought no money.

I can dance for hours without noticing it, but my high-strung body began to demand water, and I tagged my friend and motioned to the bar. She nodded and we began to weave and shake our way through the now-thick crowd. Several guys followed us, of course, and one placed a hand on each of our arms before motioning to the bar. We could probably get everything we wanted like this, hehe.

I indicated a small glass and motioned like I was drinking a shot, and he nodded, leaning across the bar to order for us.

"Hope you know what you're doing," my friend yelled to me and I gave her a confident grin.

"If not, you do," I replied, making us both laugh. Being no stranger to clubs, I watched the bartender pouring the shots with the typical flourishes—it was too easy to get a spiked drink if you didn't pay attention. Our suitor tossed a couple Chinese paper bills to the barkeep, who gave a small bow. After we picked a glass, we touched them together and I made sure to include our current sugar-daddy.

The harsh liquid made us shiver and yelp, much to the guys' amusement, and I hooted. When he motioned to the bar, clearly asking us if we wanted another, I shook my head, saying "not yet," though I doubt he could understand me. When I acting like I was drinking a larger glass, he frowned and asked a question in Chinese.

"Water," I told him, again making like I was chugging it down. Then a slender woman in a long dress stood up on her tiptoes to say something to him and he nodded.

"Water, right?" she asked, raising her voice to be heard, and I nodded as my friend told her thanks.

"I'm Yun," she greeted us, and I responded in kind, telling her it was great to know someone who understood us. We chugged the water and Yun pointed to the dancing crowd.

"Hell yeah," my friend answered. "Let's party!"

We danced and merged toward the middle. This time, I was facing Yun, and she immediately caught my attention. Her dance rhythm was a fantastic mix of offbeat/slow and quick, syncopated bursts—so graceful and meaningful—and I quickly fell into step with her. Her expression changed as she looked at me seriously, and I grinned with the sheer joy of synchronization. She was beautiful—at that moment, I loved her.

When she ran a finger down the middle of my short dress, I reciprocated without thinking about it, laying a hand on her flat stomach for as much time as the dance would allow—probably two seconds, though it felt longer. This graceful, slender woman suddenly oozed sensuality, and I turned mine on—another natural adaptation.

A young man laid a hand on Yun's hip, pulling her a tiny amount, and she wiggled in his crotch for a few moves before sliding to the side and turning to face him, weaving him into her dance. I felt a hand on my shaking ass and I pressed into it before moving away and glancing at my girl friend, who was grinning at me.

"I told you," she shouted at me as she leaned in close, and I knew what she meant. I swept her into my arms and gave her a quick kiss, throwing back my head and laughing as we broke away and danced into the range of other guys.

Feeling Yun's slender hand on my shoulder, I let myself be turned and with a quick step, she was inside my zone, slowing to half time to make sure we didn't injure us. I'd played this game before, and the tingle ran through me as I arched and pressed into her.

"You're good," she commented near my ear as we swished our hips, touching nipples for a heartbeat at each pass.

"And you rock!" The crowd had closed around us, and I felt a hand slide around my waist and across my ass. I laughed as I saw who it was: the same guy who had been touching Yun. "You get around," I told him, and Yun grinned at me.

"Meet my brother Jing." She pressed—or was pressed—into me as he put a hand around her waist.

I laughed. "You serious? You must be close."

"Like us," she responded, her amused look never wavering. And I kissed her. I intended to tease, to lightly brush her before breaking away, but the second after I touched her lips, we were locked and I felt her brother's hand go under my dress and trace the outline of my panties along my ass. I moaned into her mouth as she pinched my hard nipple, and I realized she was the one to break away after only a tease.

"You like?" she asked, and when I nodded, she grabbed my hand in hers, speaking to her brother. As we passed by, I grabbed my friend with my spare hand and dragged her with us, laughing like a giddy teenager. Yun took us to a corner half-circle booth along the wall, and her brother showed up soon afterwards, hands full of shot glasses.

I grooved in the back of the curved seat as he passed them around.

"To new friends," I said as I raised my glass. Yun smiled and said something in Chinese—I assume it was a translation for her brother. As the liquid lit my throat up, Yun pulled me to her for another kiss. This time, it was her slender fingers that slid under my dress, slipping into my panties and instantly brushing my clit. Gasping into her mouth, I slouched to allow her fingers access to me, and two fingers entered me. It was so quick—I had this graceful woman's fingers inside of me, and I was beginning to want more before I even had the time to think about it.

Giving me no time to calm down, Yun looked at me with lust in her eyes, gave me one last kiss, and then went beneath the table. I felt her grip the sides of my panties, and I raised my hips as she slid them down my legs. Through my buzz, I saw the man who'd first bought our drinks kissing my friend, and before I could tell if she was having a good time or not, Jing distracted me by sliding over to take up the slack left by his sister as she began planting moist kisses against my pussy. He leaned in to kiss me—don't ask me which I like better. They were different; his kiss was rough and thrilling as his sister pulled me lower on the seat so she could begin stroking my folds with her tongue to the music's beat.

Jing deepened his kiss as Yun began flipping my clit, pushing in her fingers again—my body tremored as I shook through a minor orgasm. I realized our activities were becoming more noticeable, even in the frenzied room. Yun felt my muscles clenching around her fingers, and she pushed my hips toward her brother as she came up from between my legs. Her lips were shining, and she tasted of sweat and musk as she settled in between us Olympians.

I was in full go-with-the-flow mode as I let Yun guide my head toward her lap, and as Jing kept pulling me to my side, I thought, "I'm going to be fucked—right here." I couldn't even object or tell if he was going to wear a condom, because Yun shifted toward me and held my head tightly to her bunched-up dress. She raised her dress with her spare hand, showing off a trim bush and moist lips, and I felt compelled to return the favor.

I squealed into her pussy as I felt Jing bend my leg at the knee, shift his weight, and plunge into my pussy. At that moment, as he began to pump into me, making me moan against Yun's open lips, I thought about the erotic stories I've read, feeling a perverse thrill as I realized I was living out a fantasy. I had dreamed about having sex at both ends; I had fantasized about having sex in a dance club. And here I was—in China—doing both at the same time.

That was when reality killed my buzz—I heard my friend yell, "no." And then again a little higher. I glanced up to see a man gripping her by the hips, with her dress bunched under his hands and her panties halfway down her thighs. She was pushing against him, and it suddenly made me realize how far I'd gone in the last couple of minutes.

Jing withdrew from me and Yun yelled something at him—the same man who'd bought out first shots—and he let go, but not before my rattled friend had begun crying. She dropped back onto the booth without bothering to pull up her panties, and I reached over to take her hand.

"I need to go," she told me, her scared look was enough to make me nod my head and sit up, smoothing my dress back over my hips. I saw Jung talking heatedly to the guy, and as he motioned to others and they roughly escorted him away. Everyone close to us was staring, and instinctively I dropped my head. It was foolish to get so carried away in public. And as I slid out of the booth and took my friend's hand, I murmured a quick "sorry" to Yin and we headed for the exit.

The silence was strained on the ride home after we repeatedly assured our driver that we were okay.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a while and I shook my head. I was sad our time had been cut short by a pushy asshole, but my friend always came first.

"Don't be," I answered, squeezing her hand and searching for a way to lighten the mood. "I'm only out a pair of panties." She laugh-sobbed, laying her head against my shoulder. "Besides," I continued, "I kinda got out of control. It was time to leave." We rode the rest of the way in silence.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I'm ready to win a medal, and we got that wildness out of our system—for now. My friend's already laughing about the event, and I have to remind her that she wasn't a prude for saying no. No—in any language—means no. To Yun, wherever you are, you are a sexy and dangerous woman, and you've given me a new set of fantasies.


© Copyright 2008 by Kev Henley. All Rights Reserved. Please do not copy or share this work without my written permission. Respect creative ownership.

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