I can't believe I'm doing this. What was I thinking? What was I drinking, for that matter? As bright ideas go this has got to be one of my more insane, yet deliciously wicked ones. Staring at my reflection in the full-view mirror I can see the panic struggling to get out; yet, that in itself is an incredibly wonderful torment. I am standing there completely bare for my critical gaze; only impossible four-inch silver stilettos decorate my over-heated flesh.
Before I can cave into cowardly retreat I grab the barely-there lacy thong, ice-blue with a deep pink trim, and slowly slide them on. Juice from my throbbing cunt delicately dampens the crotch. Next I grab a deep blue halter dress; only, it really isn't a halter, or a dress. The wispy satin and lace confection embraces me; over firm, full breasts, across my almost-flat abdomen; then, a little struggle…it settles over a pair of full hips and a generously rounded derriere. The hem flares into a gentle ruffle halfway down my thigh. Every curve, perfect and not-so-perfect, is highlighted by the dress. One delicate, gravity-defying spaghetti strap ensures my breasts retain their voluptuous pout.
With shaking hands I pick up the silver and turquoise choker; I shudder as I slide the clasp shut. The sound pierces my confidence temporarily, until I notice the aroused look on my face. My pupils are dilated to twice their size; the sea-green irises are almost incandescent. My heart is pounding as I turn away from my image. On the way out of the apartment I grab up the beaded bag on the hallway table.
As I expected the club is crowded with college kids; and again I question my sanity. I am thirty-four, not some 20-something college nymphet. What makes me think I can compete with the tan beauties swarming the dance floor? The bouncer at the door stamps my hand and tells me to move along before I can make my escape. Uncertainly I stand to the side, my frantic gaze searching…what the hell am I doing? A small rush of juice escapes the edges of my thong and slides down my thigh. For some reason it calms me, and purposefully I make my way to the bar with a slow stride. The music is loud and hypnotic.
At the bar I order a rum and coke; in for a penny…, I think to myself. After paying I turn to look at the activity on the floor. Much as I'd expected, young hard bodies pulse and grind against each other in a frenzy of socially acceptable matings. This is what I came for; not entirely, of course, but it's a start. I let my eyes drift over the couples; the twisting and pounding mass excites me, and I feel yet another rush of juice flow from the sensitive folds of my pussy. I keep looking, waiting, watching; sooner or later I'll find…
Him. He's the one. Not too tall or short; nor too muscled or thin. His clothes are simple yet fit his firm body perfectly. White t-shirt, a heavy-duty pair of tan pants. His black hair is casually ruffled, as if he'd just woken up. His heavy-lidded gaze roams the writhing mass from the edge of the dance floor. One hand rests on his hips, his head tilted up next to the man with him. He shakes his head negatively in response to the man and walks away, skirting the edge and slowly making his way nearer the bar. Almost in a trance, I plot a course that will take me directly in his path. And I'm there, standing in front of him.
He stops as he notices me in his way. Chocolate brown eyes trace a slow path from my stiletto-encased feet, to the top of head crowned in a vibrant red mass of hair. His hand reaches out, latches onto mine, and he tugs me onto the floor. He pulls me tight against him, slowly aligning our bodies from shoulder to knee; my breasts squash against his chest and we both moan at the contact. His head bends toward my head; his tongue rasps along my neck, trailing up to my ear.
"Cotton candy", he whispers. I lift my head and look at him questioningly. With a grin he pulls my hips closer into his, and I realize he was asking me if….. "Smooth", I purr back at him. With a harsh groan his arms tighten around me and we begin to move.
It's everything I'd fantasized it would be. There is now a steady flow of juice coming from my cunt; his erection burns my flesh through our clothes. Grinding, pumping, grasping, writhing; we join the mass of bodies, participating in the sexual mating there on the dance floor. My breath grows labored as I near my orgasm; his uneven panting tells me he is close, as well. The music stops. We stop. A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face, trying to disappear into the top of his shirt. On tip-toe I quickly lap it up. His hands tighten momentarily on my wrists before gently letting me go.
"Drink?" he murmurs. "Please" I croak back at him.
As we reach the bar, a wicked though enters my head. I tell him my choice of drink and excuse myself to the ladies restroom. In an empty stall I sit on the commode, taking care of business. After making sure every last trace of the pungent fluid is soaked up I stand. Quickly I step out of my thong, being careful not to let any of my juices to touch my fingers. I wad the material in my hand before exiting. The bathroom is surprisingly empty; I wash my hands at the sink before once again wadding my panties into the palm of my hand.
I wend my way through the crowd back to the bar; back to him. He hands me the drink, brushing his body against mine. Instant meltdown. I shudder at the contact. I take a fortifying gulp; then another, and yet another. He notices, of course; his wicked grin mocks me. Until…I hold up my hand and open it, letting the thong hang from one finger. It is a blatant offering. His eyes pop; he looks around frantically but then…
His hand reaches up, snagging the material by the crotch. A deeply inhaled breath at the feel of my wetness on them; he rubs the material between thumb and forefinger. Quickly he pushes them into one of his pants pockets. Holding my gaze in his own he swipes his tongue across his finger and thumb. I moan at the erotic display; having never seen my pussy he tastes me in full view of a crowded room.
Urgently he grabs me by the arm, pulling me away from the bar and back onto the dance floor. His hands grab me by the hip; his hard dick throbs against me and he lifts one of my legs to circle his own. The Latin beat allows for such intimate positioning. The material of my dress has risen, and my bare mound now caresses him through his pants. I notice he's chosen a darker corner of the floor. Carefully I reach down with one hand and slide his zipper down. His breath whooshes out. Is he shocked? Turned on? Daringly I grab him by the shaft, lifting myself on tip-toe as far as I can and slide down the length of his cock.
"Oh, fuck yesssss" he hisses, and I can only agree. We repeat the motion again and again, frenzied and frantic for closer contact. My pussy juice smears his hot flesh; we come closer and closer to the head penetrating my opening; but I hold back. I crave the torment of only allowing so much, of the excruciating tease of his flesh against mine. His hands are greedy now, squeezing my butt cheeks rhythmically, pulling me tighter and tighter against him with each gliding upward and downward motion. I slam my face into his chest as I explode; my cream gushes out, coating his dick.
"Damn, baby..." he pants. "Fuck, I need to be inside you."
I bob my head frantically in the positive. Once again he grabs me by the arm, this time leading me to the back of the club near the restrooms. We find a recessed alcove. He pushes me back against the wall, lifting me. Automatically I wrap my legs around him; I gasp, noticing that his dick is still hanging out. Before I can appreciate how turned on he must have been to not bother doing himself up, he pushes his dick full into me. Gasping again, I grab at his shoulders and squeeze my legs tighter around him.
"Awww, shit, you're so hot, so fuckin' wet. Damn, you're gonna squeeze my dick off." I giggle at the imagery, but then I can only moan as he thrusts, and thrusts, and thrusts. People are passing us in the dim hallway; over his shoulder I notice a few have stopped to watch. I can't believe how incredibly turned on I am, knowing that they're watching me be fucked. I come. Hard.
He pulls out; before I can whimper in disappointment he turns me around, facing the wall. His hands spread my cheeks, and then he's there again, spearing my needy flesh with his dick. One hand grabs a mass of my hair, pulling my head back. The other grips my hip, holding me tight as if afraid I might try to pull away. I don't want to pull away; I press my ass back. In my mind's eye I can still see our audience. I imagine them, men and women, masturbating. Hands stroking dicks and frigging clits. His hand trails downward and now squeezes one breast through the fabric of my dress. His fingers tease and pinch my nipple; I almost scream at the intensity of my orgasm.
"Shit, yeah, that's so fuckin' good…come for me again, baby, one more time" he demands. I feel his hot cum as it explodes inside, coating the walls of my vaginal passage. With one last shudder, one last hot cum, I collapse against the wall. His body, heated and sweaty, rests against mine as we try to regain our composure.
Raucous applause and cheers erupt behind us, and I can only smile in contentment. Startled my new lover rushes to close his fly but it's too late. Everyone's already seen it. Only slightly embarrassed myself I pull the hem of my dress down, checking that my nipples aren't hanging out, and brush my hair back from my face. I reach up, slowly trace my tongue across his lips.
"Keep the panties" I murmur. And walk away.