Another Friday night at another club with your girls. Your little clique dispersed ages ago; and you stand off to the side, watching the crowd and wondering why you didn't just stay home and paint your nails like you wanted to. Your gaze passes idly over the dance floor, noticing without interest how much the women outnumber the men. You are bored.
Out of nowhere, you spot him across the room. You look him up and down slowly and he looks like everything delicious to you. From the pristine cleanliness of his shoes to the fall of his jeans to the stark whiteness of his t-shirt. The gleam of the skin on his neck, the freshness of his fade, the veins in his forearms, everything about him is checking out. You want him. With an urgency that startles you.
You watch him. Intently, boldly. Biting your bottom lip, your mind begins to wander. You notice the thickness of his fingers and begin to imagine them running across your nipples, moving slowly down your stomach toward your….you realize you’re holding your breath and you exhale a little too loudly. You continue to watch him, frozen in place, your eyes following those hands as they move upward and he sips his drink.
As he swallows and lowers his glass, he notices you staring. He stares back, looking right in your eyes, holding your gaze steadily. Frankly, unblinkingly he watches you. With no false modesty, no surreptitious peers over his shoulder to be sure he’s who you’re looking at. He knows you’re looking at him and he knows exactly why. He watches you to see what you’re going to do about it.
You feel your heart pounding, notice your chest is heaving a bit as your breath comes more quickly, wondering how long he is going to just look at you. What he’s going to do next. You swallow hard and he smirks. He raises an eyebrow in question, you wet your lips in answer. He smiles.
He begins to move toward you; people and obstacles seeming to vanish from his path as he approaches. His walk is unhurried, but something about the way he moves, the way he strides purposefully toward you lets you know he’s picturing what comes next.
Suddenly he is right in front of you, so close you can smell him. He looks down at you, and you begin to feel shy. The boldness with which you were watching him a moment ago giving way to trepidation. But when he says “come with me” you say “okay”. And as he turns to walk away, you follow.
He leads you to a quiet corner you’d never noticed before. You’re shielded from view but you can still see out in the crowd, the undulating bodies blurring to an indistinct mass as the music quiets in your ears, as everything but this moment and this man begins to fade from your consciousness.
You stand facing each other. He’s still watching you, a smirk playing on his lips. He looks you up and down, taking in your breasts swelling out of the deep neckline of your tank top, your legs extending from beneath your skirt. He moves closer to you, close enough that you can feel the heat emanating from his skin. You know he’s about to touch you and the anticipation is killing you.
“Don’t move” he says. He slides to his knees and lifts your skirt, tucking the hem into the waist of your panties. Your eyes dart to the side, taking in your proximity to the party that is still going on; assessing the likelihood that someone will see you. You open your mouth to protest, you think of moving away, but you know he won’t let you and you don’t really want to. So you shut up and you wait to see what he does next.
He puts his face to your pussy and breathes in deeply. “Open your legs” he says. Your knees are shaking, but you do what he asks. He slides one of those fingers you so admired along the edge of your panties, moving them aside to expose your soaking pussy. “Hold that there” he says, placing your hand on your pushed-aside panties to keep them out of his way. And then slowly he begins to explore you, his tongue moving so gently over your pussy you’re not sure it’s happening. But the deep moan that escapes you as his hard tongue circles your clit tells you that yes, it is.
His mouth moves over you, eating your pussy exactly the way you like it done. Your moans are coming more quickly, reaching a higher pitch as the throbbing in your pussy starts to build. And just as you begin to ask yourself if you are seriously about to cum all over his face in a room full of people, he stops. So abruptly that you cry out in frustration.
“Turn around” he says. Not waiting for you to obey he turns you, bending you over the couch you didn’t know was behind you, the only thing that was holding you up as he sucked you. Before you know what is happening he is inside you, his dick stretching your walls as he strokes you deeply. One hand grips your hip and pulls you back roughly as the other slides up and pushes your face farther down into the couch. He begins to hit the spot that makes you scream and in a brief moment of lucidity you are grateful that the couch is there to muffle your sounds.
Again your surroundings fade to obscurity and all you are aware of is the epic cock sliding in and out of your sopping pussy. The dick that belongs to a man whose name you don’t even know. As he pounds into you and you feel the the explosion begin to build. You try to squirm away, to maintain some semblance of control as the back corner of your mind reminds you that you are not the kind of girl who does this, not the kind of woman who has a screaming O in a crowded nightclub with her skirt flipped up over her waist. But his grip on you his firm, his stroke of your pussy relentless. And then there is nothing but the delicious backshots he is giving you and you begin your ascent to orgasm. Still holding on to you, still pounding into your pussy, still pushing you toward the explosion he leans forward, puts his mouth close to your ear and whispers “cum with me”. And you do.
As the relentless pounding of your pussy finally begins to abate, you become aware again of your surroundings. You get your bearings and you restore your clothing to its rightful place, smooth your hair back and restore your pre-fuck appearance. You take a deep breath and turn around, prepared to follow him back to your spot at the edge of the dancefloor but he is gone. Vanished so instantly and so completely that were it not for the wetness of your panties, you wouldn’t be sure that it even happened.