The Club - Let's Dance

I can't believe how packed the club is now. When we first arrived, around 10:00 PM, the place was practically empty. Most of the people who were here were stationed around the perimeter, either standing along the bar or lounging in the seating areas, with only a few small clusters of gung ho dancers loosely spread out around the dance floor. Now, less than four hours later, it's wall to wall people.

My friends and I have made good use of our time so far, having danced quite a bit already, but after our latest round of shimming like fresh sardines in a net, my little group has managed to squeeze our way back to the far end of the bar with hopes of grabbing some more drinks. Judging from how thick this crowd is though, that seems about as likely as hitting the lottery.

While we rest and wait I admire the floor to ceiling mirrored wall just behind the hundred foot long bar. It's what the club is known for and it's the main decor focal point of the room. It features an intricate patchwork of shelves displaying every imaginable shape of bottle containing every possible type of alcoholic beverage on the planet; like a huge canvas of booze.

The bottles are grouped in small artistically arranged clusters highlighting either their brand or color or shape but the design leaves enough negative space throughout it to allow the mirrored backing to convincingly create the illusion that the club is twice its actual size. A ladder and track system, a lot like in old libraries, allows the bartenders to scurry up to reach any of the liquors so they are not just there for show.

I shift my gaze past my mirrored twin and examine the dance floor behind her. It would be pitch black if it weren't for the intermittent strobes and flashes of multi-colored lights that repeatedly illuminate the crowd and assault my eyes like rhythmic bolts of lightning. There is something quite mesmerizing about how this alien landscape of bobbing heads and waving arms is instantly captured in light and etched onto my retinas between inky intervals of lightlessness only to reappear in a slightly different pose a split second later giving all movement a jerky robotic look.

At some point the DJ turned the music up to eleven and it is now so shockingly loud that it overwhelms my auditory sense to the point where I'm not really listening to it as much as I am feeling the actual sound waves. The thump thump thump of the pulsating bass washes across the shadowy undulating sea of tightly pressed dancers and passes right through me, vibrating every cell in my body.

Its effect is so powerful and infectious that despite my initial trepidation its energy even managed to lift me from the safety of the club's outer fringe earlier in the night and transported me into the middle of the action. The unrelenting rhythm quickly replaced any feelings of embarrassment I may have had with the desire to move and I soon found myself swaying and gyrating with the crowd.

I almost forgot just how much I used to love to dance, back when I was a much younger woman; before my marriage, and before my asshole of an ex-husband squashed the spirit out of me. But, that is in fact why we're here tonight. To celebrate my divorce, and for me to officially put my ex behind me, so what better way to express my new found freedom than to let my body succumb to the hypnotic magic of this music and move.

There is something incredibly primal and more than a little erotic about a mass of strangers moving in unison to the pounding rhythm of music. On the dance floor sweat and cologne mix to form a strange musky bouquet as shadowy bodies of both sexes press theIr damp flesh against you like some animalistic mating ritual. It's hard to imagine any other situation in our conservative society where this kind of contact with random strangers is tolerated or allowed.

I danced until my awkwardness fell away and until I was so drenched in sweat that my dress and underwear were literally soaked in perspiration. Secretly, later when I went to the ladies room, I removed my moist panties and put them in my bag. It felt so much cooler and way more comfortable without them, and yes, truth be told, a little naughty as well.

Fuck it. I thought. Tonight I'm free to do whatever I please.

Now, standing here, sweat pouring freely from my pores and dopamine racing through my veins, I feel like an entirely different person than the woman that entered this club just a few hours earlier. My problems, stresses and inhibitions have temporarily been dissolved by alcohol and adrenaline and by the endless pounding of synthetic drums.

It takes me a while to become consciously aware of the lump brushing against, and occasionally poking, my butt cheek. The club is so jammed packed with people that even off the dance floor it's impossible to stand and not have someone pressing against you. By this point in the night I'm so immune to people bumping, grinding and even occasionally groping me, that I've blocked most of it out.

It's the repetitiveness of the poking that finally makes me take notice. It would be difficult to discern what the lump is under any circumstance (my initial guesses are someone's car key fob or wallet) but of course after four drinks (no wait, we opened the night with shots of tequila, so it's actually five) the alcohol is also dulling my senses.

Looking across at my reflection I can make out the "poking" culprit just over my shoulder illuminated by the continuous flashes of light. He's 20 something (just like pretty much everyone else in here except for Kelly and I), 6 feet tall and cute, despite the stupid "man bun" on the top of his head. He is swaying to the music, holding his drink up by his face with his eyes closed.

He looks innocent enough. He probably isn't even aware that he's poking me. I try my best to shift positions to avoid the unidentifiable lump but there really isn't any place to move to.

Kelly leans in so close to me that her forehead rests against the side of my head and her hair tickles my cheek as she tells me that Lisa, Mae and her are going to embark on the arduous trek to the restroom. The music is so loud the only way to communicate is through sign language or to speak directly into someone's ear. She asks me to order them some drinks if by some miracle of chance a bartender lands in front of us before they return. I nod and smile, then returning my gaze to the mirrored wall I watch as they push their way through the crowd getting quickly swallowed up by the dark mass of partiers.

Good luck.

I know from experience navigating through this tightly packed jungle of swaying torsos and flailing arms is no easy feat and once you finally get to the restroom the wait on line is at least 30 minutes long. I lean to my right to let Helen know where the others are off to.

I had only heard of Helen in passing conversations but hadn't met her before tonight. My best friend Kelly and Helen have been going to the same Zumba class for the past couple of months and recently struck up a friendship. When Kelly found out that Helen loves clubbing she invited her to join us.

It's funny how quickly women size each other up. I think back to the start of the night as we were being introduced and how I instinctively gave Helen the once over. For one thing it was a little hard not to notice our age differences. She is at least twenty years or so younger than Kelly and I, which puts her in her mid twenties.

That, and the fact that she is in fantastic shape. My eyes were immediately drawn to her tiny waist and rock hard abs, which were clearly visible thanks to her crop top blouse. She may be slim and athletic but her bust is impressively full, and while I may have slightly larger breasts than her, the difference between her bust, waist, and perfectly shaped ass, makes her curves more pronounced than mine.

Bare foot, she is probably only a tad taller than me, but her pumps add at least another four inches to her height. At this point in my life I could never wear that type of heel and survive until morning without being crippled. Nope, my high heel days are definitely over.

Helen's dirty blond hair has lighter streaks framing her angelic and very pretty (oh let's just be honest, gorgeous) face, and her sparkling light turquoise eyes match her bubbly personality perfectly. I had a chance to chat with her when we first arrived, before the club was packed and before they cranked the music up to its current deafening level, and I have to admit that she seems so sweet, upbeat, and full of positive energy that it's impossible not to like her.

I notice the poking has returned and if anything seems to be even more pronounced than before. Perhaps I need to say something.

My eyes shift back to the spot in the mirror where I can spy on "man bun". To my surprise he is looking into the mirror now and directly at me. Not only is he looking at me but even in this dim intermittent lighting I can tell by his smirk and his shifting eyes that he is ogling my boobs.

I lower my gaze instinctively to my bust. The strobing lights bounce off the white globes of my breasts like two full moons on a clear night. I have to admit it's hard not to stare. I almost forgot I'm wearing a new dress that I had ordered online late one night on a whim. It's shorter than I expected and way sexier than I imagined; with a mid thigh hemline and sweetheart top.

The spandex interwoven fabric clings and stretches to every curve of my body and makes my ass look round and firm (Kim Kardashian ain't got nothing on me! Hahaha!) and my 36DD breasts are mostly uncovered. I swear I planned on returning it, but just for a laugh, I struck a sexy pose and sent a selfie to Kelly.

"Oh my God, girl! You look amazing! You have to wear that tonight!" she texted back.

We debated the issue for the next ten minutes before I finally agreed but I insisted on wearing a cardigan to cover my top. What I didn't count on was the club being so hot. I worked up such a sweat from dancing that I removed the sweater hours ago, totally forgetting in the darkness of the dance floor that most of my tits were on full display.

I smile in embarrassment.

Judging from the way "Man bun" is grinning back at me I think he mistakenly takes my smile to be flirtatiously directed towards him. As I study his face in the pulsating light I can't help but notice that his "car key fob or wallet" seems to have grown bigger and harder and is now pressing against my ass with a steady pressure. It's been a while but there's something familiar about that sensation...

Oh my God! He's dry humping my butt!

My heart skips a beat at the thought of this guy's erection pressing against the cheek of my ass.

What should I do? Should I say something?

Ummm, Excuse me young man, I know I'm incredibly sexy but I didn't mean to encourage your erection, I giggle to myself.

I should be pissed but for some reason I'm not angry at all. If anything I find it kind of thrilling. Helen must sense that something is going on because she leans in from my right to ask me if everything is okay. Speaking directly into her ear I tell her about my "admirer" and how he's unabashedly "introducing" himself to my butt.

She looks shocked for a second then starts laughing hysterically. Her mouth hovers near my ear, "You should teach him a lesson and grind that sexy ass of yours on his dick and make him cream his shorts. That would be hilarious!"

I'm shocked by her suggestion, but I'm not going to lie, the thought of it is also so exciting it makes my body buzz with arousal. After years of conditioning I feel a tinge of guilt for a second until I remember I'm no longer married and if I want to grind my ass on a man's hard on I have every right to do so.

It's been ages since I felt desired and while this blatant display of male horniness is certainly perverted and inappropriate it is truthfully also a real turn on. Plus there is a part of me that would love to see if I could actually make him cum just from rubbing my ass on his dick. Deeper down, if I'm completely honest with myself, I think I'm just proud and flattered that "man bun" is grinding his (hehehe) "MAN BUN" on my ass and not on sexy, beautiful Helen's.

I feel bad calling him "Man bun" now that we are getting "acquainted". I really need to come up with something better than that.

Hummmm... I think I'll call him, "Ken".

My heart beats a little faster as I lean back against "Ken's" growing erection and grind my ass against it to the rhythm of the music. I have to admit it's been more than awhile since I had anything to do with a man's dick. I first separated from my ex husband about a year and a half ago and I've been too busy and not in the right headspace to really do much dating.

Shit, when I really think of it, it's been close to three years since I've had sex. Not only haven't I had sex but I haven't even touch a man's cock or seen a man naked in all that time. I've been so emotionally drained from dealing with my ex that I haven't even thought about sex, but "Ken" is doing an awfully good job of reminding me just how much I actually miss a man's dick.

I suddenly realize I miss everything about cock, honestly. I miss the way they look and how they feel in my hand as they grow longer and thicker and harder. I miss the way they taste and the sensation of hot hard flesh in my mouth as it slips past my lips and slides along my tongue to the back of my throat. I even miss licking and sucking on big fat balls, for Christ's sake!

I'm not sure how long I'm lost in thought; fantasizing about turning around and dropping to my knees and taking "Ken's" thick erection in my mouth and sucking the hell out of it but when his hands grab onto my hips, that snaps me back into the moment. His penis is incredibly hard now and he's grinding it between the cheeks of my ass to the beat of the music.

Our eyes are locked in the mirror's reflection and I'm so horny at this point, and my pussy is so wet, I'm not sure if it's sweat or love juice that I feel trickling down the inside of my thighs. Helen leans over to ask me what's happening and in her haste her lips accidentally brush against my ear. Despite the sauna-like heat in the club, her warm breath tickles my ear, sending a shiver down my body that tingles my nipples and clitoris.

I describe to her what he's doing to me, unashamedly explaining how his massive cock is turning me on and how he's drooling as he stares at the reflection of my huge tits.

She's giggling like a teenager when she tells me "Girl, you gotta take it up a notch! Reach back and squeeze his dick with your hand."

I wish I could blame being drunk on what I'm doing, but so much adrenaline is pumping through my veins at this point that I'm totally sober now. I just have to face the fact that I'm so horny that this is pushing me past the point of rational thought.

Without any hesitation I reach my hand back and search for his cock. I slide it along his slacks between his pelvis and my cloth covered ass feeling for the lump in his pants. I'm stunned when my fingers brush against the hot flesh of his unsheathed, bare penis sticking out of his unzipped fly.

Holy fuck! "Ken", you are a very naughty boy!

My heart races with excitement as I grasp his hard cock in my soft hand. His penis is so thick that my fingers can barely wrap fully around it. My clit begins to throb uncontrollably and is aching to be touched as I do my best to squeeze and stroke his dick behind me.

Growing bolder with each passing moment he moves his hands further around my waist until his thumb tips are now touching just above my public bone and his fingers and the palms of his hands are pressing against my inner thighs forming a triangle around my crotch. His gaze alternates between my face and my heaving cleavage.

Meanwhile Helen, who has been observing us from the side, is insistent on somehow being included in this. She leans in closely saying, "Come on girl, show him what he really wants to see!"

Helen slips a finger along the edge of my top, and before I can think or react, pulls the right side of my dress down below my bouncing tit. I'm so shocked to see my reflection's exposed breast that I quickly glance down in disbelief.

Yup! That's my boob!

I panic for a second, hastily looking around to see if anyone else can see me. Thankfully the bartenders are far enough away and are so busy that they don't seem to notice. Overall I'm also shielded by the darkness plus Helen's body on my right and the back of some large guy on my left. No, only "Ken", Helen, and I can see my exposed tit.

The effect on "Ken" is immediate though. Seeing my naked boob gives him all the encouragement he needs to fully explore the rest of my body. His left hand moves up along my body and squeezes my still covered left boob, while his right hand slides down to the edge of my skirt then up my bare thigh.

OK, this has escalated quickly! I can't believe this is happening and I'm allowing it.

This is crazy but hey, you only live once. Besides, I've been so sexually constrained for the past two years that maybe I need a little crazy. Plus, It's been so long since I've been touched like this that it feels incredible!

After brazenly exposing my tit, Helen cups what she can of my right boob in her small hand and gently squeezes it with her soft fingers.

"Oooooh, fuck. Squeeze my nipple. Yes...harder," I whisper in her ear.

My nipples are pretty sensitive but it really turns me on when they are pinched and bitten roughly during sex. Helen grins in response to my command and doubles the force she is using, sending jabs of pain and pleasure shooting out across my body, causing me to groan loudly in ecstasy. It's weird how pain and pleasure often cross paths with one another. Pain sometimes can be pleasurable and too much pleasure can be painfully overwhelming.

No point in holding back now. I follow Helen's lead and pull my top down over my other boob and allow "Ken" to knead the bare flesh of my sweaty tit.

Squishing her own ample breasts against the side of my arm, Helen presses her hot lips softly against my ear and says, "What's he doing to you now?!" Even over the din of club music I can sense her own horniness.

I'm suddenly aware of the smell of her hairspray and the floral scent of her perfume. I've never experienced any kind of sexual arousal from a woman before, but I find this blend of male and female stimulation new, intense, and unexpectedly erotic.

I turn my face towards hers and submerge myself in the light blue pools of her eyes. My breath catches and my heartbeat accelerates. Her skin has the flawless glow of youth.

Damn, she's so beautiful.

I'm suddenly incredibly aware that our noses and lips are almost touching. The sweet scent of appletini on her breath is intoxicating. Hypnotically I creep forward until my lips touch hers then I gingerly slip my tongue into her mouth. The lingering taste of her last drink on her tongue is sweet and delicious, adding an unexpected dimension of sensuality to our kiss.

Crouched over my back slightly to reach my crotch, "Ken" has found my pantyless pussy and is stroking his finger up and down my dripping wet slit. His head is to the left of mine, smirking over my shoulder, intently watching me kiss Helen in the mirrored wall. "Ken" lowers his hot moist lips and tastes my salty neck.

Even as I make out with Helen my eyes are always on "Ken". I find it very erotic to see that my little lesbian display is clearly turning him on. I'm also suddenly aware of how attractive, and I hate to admit it, how very young he is (at least compared to me). A pang of guilt flashes through me when I realize I'm probably old enough to be his mother.