Unexpected

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of gay male sexual content.

*

We are in a noisy crowded club- the kind of place I normally never go. You are young. I am not. But I do have a certain appeal— short grey hair, almost shaved clean; trim beard, my body a bit on the muscular side; quiet, mischievous eyes.

I'm leaning back against a table, drinking my beer and watching the crowd dancing to the live band. I've had one more beer than I should, I'm in the sort of place I never go, I'm a little out of my element— but I'm enjoying the scene.

You're dancing with your boyfriend, working your way around the floor, pausing to dance with others you meet along the way. He's behind you a lot, rubbing up against you. I see you before you see me, and my eyes are fixed on you. Your wild feral energy speaks to parts of my body that haven't been spoken to in a long time. Then your eyes catch mine, and you work your way directly to me, and you put your hands on my shoulders, swaying and pulsing to the music. Your boyfriend catches up, puts his hands on your hips, and is rubbing against you from behind, in time with the music.

You say something to me, but even the faintest sound from your lips is lost in the musical chaos. I turn my ear and lean toward you to try to hear. You pull me closer and instead of saying anything, you begin licking my ear. Your tongue travels in light circles, and then probes the center opening, circles again, probes again, your tongue swirls around my earlobe, and then you bite it. I shudder with the sensation, and then lean back to look into your eyes. Your body is pressed against me now, I can feel your breasts rubbing against me through the thin fabric of your dress, feel your responsive movements as your boyfriend continues to dance his body against your backside.

You look into my eyes, moving your hips in a circular motion; and then, pulling my shoulders, you press your lips to mine. It's a soft wet kiss at first, but it grows more intense as we move. Your tongue probes deeply into my mouth. I can taste vodka on your breath, and something else, something more pungent, I can't tell what it is but it repels me and draws me in at the same time. The "drawing in" is winning out.

Then I feel the pressure. Gentle at first, so soft I'm not sure if I read your meaning correctly, the pressure of your hands, pushing down on my shoulders, but that pressure grows more insistent and unmistakable. I sink slowly, kissing my way down, pausing to kiss more around your throat and that sensitive spot in the center, below it, until the pressure on my shoulders increases, and I move down your front side, kissing through your thin dress, pausing at your breasts until your again hands urge me lower again, pausing again at your belly button, then down again until I'm completely on my knees. Your hands have moved to my head now, and your body is pulsing more and more intensely to the music's heavy rhythm.

I kiss the insides of your thighs now, first one and then the other, circling my tongue, teasing, but after a minute of that you hold my head steady and press your center against my lips. You're wearing nothing under that short thin dress. My tongue probes like a snake's. Your scent is intense— there's sweat, there's the faintest hint of pee, there's the strong and multifaceted scent of your arousal, and behind it, as you press against me and my tongue swirls deeper, there's that other musk, the same one I noticed on your breath.

The left-hand side of my brain is alert and observing, and saying,"It's semen. In her mouth and in her pussy. Her boyfriend fucked her not long ago." As if in answer, I feel him pushing against your backside more firmly, more rhythmically. The right-hand side of my brain is drunk with sensation and arousal, and is saying, "suck." You're very wet, and I'm licking, practically drinking from you. My head is tilted back now, my tongue inside you and your clit moving against my nose as your body throbs. I can tell you're already close to orgasm.

Then, a new sensation. You're leaning slightly, against the table I was propped against before. My head is tilted back as far as it can go, and your back is arching slightly, not enough to deny me access, but enough to move my lips from your vagina to your clit. You're arching to him, because he's coming into the action, from behind. His naked cock is working its way between your ass cheeks, along the underside of you, till he finds your lips, and pushes up and in. I can feel the underside of his cock touching me as I lick you and he surges into you.

I'm pressed under you, your hands gripping me tight, I could hardly get away if I wanted to— but I don't. He's in you now, and pumping hard. More than once, his cock slips out of you and slides into my mouth with the same force, but then, pulling back he corrects his angle and thrusts in again, my tongue pressing him upward to give him a little extra guidance.

I can feel the convulsions of your building orgasm, can feel your voice that's buried in the din of music and crowd. And then with a final animal thrust, he's cumming— but once again, his cock has slipped, and he's filling my mouth with great bursts of the cream that was meant for you. And in that moment, the music climaxes and then goes suddenly silent, the lights come up slowly, and the only sound is his grunting and your orgasmic scream, and the crowd pulls away, to see you, your dress flipped up over your shuddering ass, as he thrusts against you, and me below you, on my knees, my mouth filling with his sperm.