I met her on the dance floor.
She was a little shorter than I was – though I’m not too tall myself, just under six feet – and the first thing I saw of her was the vivid, almost neon, orange-red hair cascading down to her shoulders in a mix of dreads and straightened locks.
My eyes roamed, taking in her slim figure encased in a tight black top with narrow straps that left most of her back and shoulders exposed. A few inches of skin showed at the small of her back then her pleated skirt kicked in, barely long enough to reach her thighs – and what thighs.
I figured she had to be a dancer or an athlete to have legs like that; the all-too brief view of flawless, porcelain skin between her striped stockings and the shifting hem of her skirt was enough to hook me in. I had to see her face. Was she as beautiful as I hoped, or was her sexy appearance just a cruel trick?
“Hi,” I shouted over the music, my fingers brushing against her shoulder as I tried to get her attention. She felt like silk. For what seemed like an eternity she didn’t respond, just kept twisting to the beat, but finally she turned, wordlessly, and draped her arms around my neck, continuing to dance as if nothing had changed.
Her hair was even more vivid than I realised close-up, catching the lights that shimmered overhead. Two slightly wavy locks framed her face. She had soft, delicate features; her mouth shining with lip gloss the same colour as her hair, her eyes highlighted with more muted tones. Her eyes were sultry and disarming, looking up at me from under half-closed lids. It made her seem coy and mischievous at the same time. I fought to keep my eyes on hers instead of trailing lower, and when my brain got back into gear, I remembered to say, “I’m Mike.”
She considered this information, biting her lip thoughtfully. That one gesture could have floored me. “Hope,” she introduced herself as. I wasn’t sure if that was her real name or not.
“You come here often?” I asked, and mentally kicked myself. How lame. If she thought so too it didn’t show: she just shook her head and moved a little closer, swaying to the more subdued tune the DJ had put on. I made a mental note to thank him for his impeccable timing.
Before I knew it, she had her body pressed against mine. Her arms were tighter around my neck, our foreheads almost touched. Her breasts were soft against my chest. It didn’t feel like she was wearing a bra. My hands, first on her shoulders, slid down her back, confirming my theory. God, she was irresistible. So far she’d practically melted into me, so I decided to push my luck, my hands grazing her buttocks before gripping more firmly through her skirt. She smiled, grinding her hips into me.
There was no way she could miss my erection pressing into her stomach, but rather than scaring her off as I feared, it just made her lick her lips. She was like a predator toying with her prey – and I didn’t mind being lower on the food chain. She’d kissed me before I even realised she’d moved, her tongue slipping between my surprised lips and caressing mine with expert skill. My right hand worked it’s way up, underneath her skimpy top, stroking her back as we made out in the middle of the dance floor. I didn’t care how much of a spectacle we might end up creating: I had to have her. Fortunately for my part, she seemed to want to have me.
Awkwardly, we half-danced and half-fell our way off the floor, still entwined, her hands all over my back, mine all over hers. We barely stopped kissing to find time to breath, it was the most frantic kiss I’d ever had. Somehow we ended up in one of the darker corners of the club, tucked away next to one of the foundation arches. She was pressed against the wall, I was pressed against her, shamelessly groping her breast beneath her top. She wasn’t overly-endowed, but she felt wonderful, and her nipple was hard beneath my fingertips as I toyed with her, eliciting moans into my mouth.
She stopped running her hands over my back and for a moment I thought I’d gone too far, until she unzipped my jeans and started to stroke my cock through my boxers. I could have cum right then, but I held back. Barely. She broke the kiss, seemingly only to see what effect her teasing was having on me. I had to steady myself against the arch with one hand, leaning into her as she worked my cock free and gripped it more firmly.
I groaned, she was too good. Then as suddenly as she’d started she stopped, and slid down the wall, engulfing my cock with her mouth without even lining me up with her hands. She was a natural, or just incredibly experienced. I didn’t care. I’d never had a blowjob so good, never felt a mouth so warm, and wet, and she took me so deep, I could feel her throat against the head of my cock. She didn’t gag, even as I came, stifling a cry of ecstasy, my cock spasming and pouring come down her throat. She kept sucking, until the pleasure became almost unbearable, and only then did she stop, carefully zipping me back up and rising to her feet.
“Come back tomorrow,” she whispered, crystal clear over the music, and ducked under my arm, disappearing into the crowd. I could hardly move after that, let alone chase her. She was gone.
It was an easy choice, whether or not I should return the next night, even though the cover charge had gone up, and I couldn’t really afford to go out as it was. But for her, I’d have done anything. Milling about with a beer in my hand, I stood near the dance floor but not on it, trying to spot her, but her vivid orange-red hair was nowhere to be seen. I checked my watch – it was this time yesterday that I’d first seen her. Maybe she’d stood me up, or maybe I’d hallucinated the whole thing. Just as I was thinking it had been too good to be true, someone brushed their fingers over my shoulder.
“Hi,” a girl said behind me. I turned. She was wearing a black mini-dress that zipped through from the neck to the hem. The zip had a fairly large d-ring attached, and was already partially undone, revealing a tantalising glimpse of cleavage. Her hair was blue-black, and pretty short, in a cute, asymmetrical bob that half-hid her face behind her fringe. It was only then that I realised she was the girl from the night before.
“I’m Jan,” she said, leaving me to guess whether that was her real name or another pseudonym. It didn’t matter, she was here now. My cock rose in anticipation, but first, she dragged me onto the dance floor, hardly giving me the time to leave my beer on a counter.
A fast electronica track was playing, and she practically writhed to it. Each sudden movement threatened to hike the already short skirt of the mini-dress even higher, and some of her twists pulled at the zipper, edging it lower, and my eyes were glued to her increasingly exposed cleavage. She knew what she was doing to me, she even seemed to be getting off on it; the more turned on I got by her dancing, the more violent her moves, the more erotic the result. I couldn’t keep her out of my arms any longer.
As I wrapped around her, I noticed she was shorter than yesterday – she must have had platform boots on before. I had to pick her up to kiss her, and I could sense her smile as her skirt slipped up over her ass cheeks, exposing them to anyone on the dance floor observant enough. When we broke the kiss she pulled her skirt down, but only just – with my hands on her buttocks, I could still feel a lot of skin.
Just like before, we soon worked our way off the dance floor, but to a different corner of the club. This part had couches where people could chill out in the shadows away from the heat and light of the dance floor, but it was still early in the night and we were the only ones there. She pushed me back onto a couch, following me down and straddling my hips. My cock pressed against her sex through my jeans and whatever she was wearing, I could feel the heat coming off her.
She bit her lip teasingly, and ground down against me, and continuing until we were dry-humping on the couch, she getting off grinding against my cock, and me just struggling to keep from exploding. I reached up and hooked my finger into the d-ring of her zip, tugging it down slowly, savouring every inch of skin exposed. When I reached her navel I let go and ran my fingers up over her taut, flat stomach to cup her breasts, pushing the dress aside so it hung loosely off her shoulders, caressing her curves and tweaking her nipples.
I pulled her towards me so I could kiss her neck, then her chest, worked my way to her breasts and then sucking lightly on her nipples, flicking them with my tongue, as she continued to grind. Abruptly she rolled off me, still half-naked, and gestured for me to follow suit. I straddled her hips as she had done mine, and she once again unzipped me and got a hold of my cock.
This time as she got me off she looked me in the eye, never breaking that contact, and slowly worked both her hands up and down my shaft at an agonisingly slow pace. She could see in my eyes how much I wanted to come, but she didn’t let me, drawing the process out for as long as possible, the risk of getting caught increasing with every passing moment, until at last she sped up her ministrations, jerking me off faster and faster, and I came, hot white come landing on her breasts and stomach, a few drops landing on her cheek. She wiped it off her face with a fingertip, and licked it clean. Her come-covered chest she ignored, just zipped the dress back up, and slid out from under me.
“Tomorrow,” she informed me, and I nodded, panting. She kissed my cheek, and left.
It was the busiest I’d seen the club in some time, making me worry that she wouldn’t be able to find me – or just as bad, that when she did, we’d have nowhere private to go, and I wasn’t sure how she’d feel if I offered to take her home with me. I began looking for her in earnest, but the trouble was I didn’t know what I was looking for. She could be wearing anything, she might have changed her hair again. It was like searching for a needle in a very large, writhing, multi-coloured haystack.
Just as I was about to give up, I saw her. Even with her hair up, and in ringlets, coloured a sort of reddish-brown, it was undoubtedly her. The way the ringlets fell around her face would have given her a certain shy beauty, she could have pulled off the girl-next-door look, if not for what she was wearing. A tight net t-shirt gave no doubt that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath, the way her breasts bounced when she moved, never staying still enough to get a good glimpse of her nipples through the holes.
The black pleated skirt had returned, flicking up when she danced, highlighting her gorgeous legs. I was about to go to her, but then I realised she was already with someone. I’d have felt betrayed if it was another guy – despite the blatantly informal, sexual nature of our ‘relationship’ – but it wasn’t another guy at all. Who she danced with could definitely pull off the innocent girl-next-door look, even with her ample chest squeezed into a striped purple, pink and blue three-quarter sleeved shirt than ended just above her midriff. Her jeans were tight, showing off a really great ass, and Jan’s grip was enough to demonstrate how firm that ass really was.
Neither had noticed me watching them, and the rest of the crowd didn’t seem to care about their antics, or were just politely ignoring them, save for a few surreptitious glances – mostly the men when their partners weren’t paying attention to the direction of their gaze. Jan was definitely in charge of the situation, just as she had been in control with me, guiding her fellow dancer’s movements, sliding her leg between the other girl’s thighs, wrapping her arms around her.
She used that leverage to pull the girl down onto her leg, and the girl was quickly grinding her crotch against Jan’s thigh. Jan kept busy, slipping one hand up under the other girl’s shirt to fondle her large breasts. I could see her reach around to unhook the girl’s bra, and watched as the girl shirked it through her sleeves. Her nipples were plainly visible, poking out from the stretchy fabric of her shirt, and the way her freed breasts moved was incredibly erotic.
Slipping her leg out from between the other girl’s thighs, and ignoring her looks of dissatisfied protest, Jan circled around her new toy, pressing into the girl’s back and sliding her hands up to cup her breasts. Then her fingers danced down the girl’s stomach and into her jeans, the fevered movements I could make out matched by the looks of ecstasy on the girl’s face. She tensed suddenly, her mouth open in a cry of pleasure muted by the music, but Jan didn’t stop.
I couldn’t pry my eyes away from the girl’s quivering breasts at first, but when I did, I saw Jan looking at me, making eye contact right across the crowded dance floor, as she worked the nameless girl to orgasm after orgasm. My cock twitched, remembering that same eye contact as she gave me the best hand job of my life.
When she was done, Jan left the girl dazed in the middle of the dance floor, and having whispered something in her ear, wound her way gracefully to me. She didn’t say anything, just kissed me sensuously, and then slid two of her fingers into my mouth. The taste was unmistakable.
“Who’re you today?” I asked, but she didn’t answer. Instead she took my hand and guided it down under her skirt. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath it, and was already wet with excitement. My middle finger slid into her easily, drawing out a faint gasp from her, but she was still very tight. I knew that tonight, I had to be inside her.
Pulling her close, it looked like we were just slow dancing, but I started to finger her slowly, trying to repay her for the previous night’s teasing. I didn’t consider myself a bad guy when it came to getting a girl off, and the way her fingers were digging into my shoulder reassured me. My index finger slipped into her, and her grip tightened even further. I was expecting her to draw blood. My thumb on her clit finished her off, her orgasm heralded by a breathless cry in my ear, and her pussy squeezing and spasming around my fingers.
With her weak-kneed, it was my turn to lead us off the dance floor. Tonight the chill out room wasn’t empty, but other people weren’t really registering in my head anymore. My world started and ended with her. I was head over heels in lust. Finding a couch of our own, we settled into it, her curled in my lap with her head against my chest. She seemed to be watching the couple on the couch next to us. They were obviously flirting, inching closer together, perhaps approaching that first kiss. Jan stroked my cock through my jeans.
We were far beyond first kisses. She shifted, straddling me as she had done before, and I could feel her dampness through two layers of clothing. Expertly she had me unzipped and out of my boxers with the most minimal of movements, and guided me inside herself without hesitation. I closed my eyes, devoured by the sensation of entering her. She was wondrously tight, but slick at the same time. We felt made for each other, perfectly proportioned.
The other couple hadn’t noticed us yet, too involved with each other, and Jan started out subtly enough that I briefly dreamed it would stay that way. She ground down onto me, taking me deeper and deeper, and rotated her hips slowly, biting her lip once again – in pleasure, this time, I thought. I pulled her down towards me for a long, involved kiss, but when we broke it she began to ramp up her movements. It quickly became obvious what we were doing, but I was powerless to stop her.
More than that, I didn’t want to stop her. Fucking her – being fucked by her – just felt too good. Soon the other couple stopped their flirtations, watching us brazenly. I raised my hips to meet her on the down stroke of her technique, and throwing any caution or decorum away, hooked my thumbs under her net top. She raised her arms up without question, and I slid it off over her head, exposing her breasts for everyone to see, bouncing every time she thrust herself down onto me.
Her eyes fluttered between open and closed, seemingly unaware of her surroundings, uncaring of the number of people watching her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the girl’s hand on her would-be partner’s thigh, and the nervous, but aroused, look on her face.
When Jan came, she came explosively, throwing herself down onto me with one final thrust, the walls of her pussy milking the orgasm out of me. I’d never felt so drained, so well-fucked, before or since then. For a long time she simply lay against my chest, arms loosely around my neck, as they had been when we first met, until she gathered enough strength to move. Without a word to me or anyone else, she pulled her net shirt back on, and slid off me. I zipped myself back up, blushing slightly. I noticed the onlookers suddenly found the walls very interesting.
When I looked back, Jan – if that was her name – had gone.
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