I see you across the club, having a drink, dancing with various people, just generally swaying to the music and having a great time. I, on the other hand, can’t take my eyes off you. You’re in this flirty-wispy short country-style skirt and have on boots and an incredible hat. Watching you dance, line dance and just, well, watching you is becoming hazardous. I’m pretty sure you’ve noticed me staring.
I’m doing my best to look away, to not be overly obvious. I grab some liquid courage and have a couple of drinks to take off my nervous edge, but when I look back, I can’t find you anywhere. I start to panic, thinking I’ve missed my chance. I slump into my chair and try to keep telling myself that you’ll be back. But I can’t help feeling like I totally blew it.
Then I feel something, or someone, putting their hand in my pocket – like shoving something there. Then someone’s at my ear, whispering that we really should probably just dance. You twirl slowly around in front of me and I can’t believe what I’m taking in. I can smell your perfume – and that outfit. I walk out and we dance. And dance. It’s relaxing, we dance, we talk, we flirt. Every now and then you step in front of me and press back against me, dancing against me to the music while I’m sitting on the stool. I can feel myself responding, but I’m trying to fight it. I don’t want to blow it this evening.
Finally I get your name, find out you’re in town for some sort of business thing, staying at the hotel nearby. I’m sad that you’re not living in town, but we’re having too much fun to worry about that too much now.
With every dance, you somehow work in these moves that press up against me, that have me growling inside. It’s erotic country dancing at its finest. And every dance, the world closes in around us – like no one else is around. It’s a mix of line dances, different 2-steps, the works. It’s just flat fun and flirty and the hours fly by.
Then you lean in when we get back to our stool, you smile at me, you tell me that you’re having a great time, but that more than that, you’re glad you tagged me. “Tagged me?” I ask. I’m not sure, but then you pat me on the ass and nuzzle in. “Yep, tagged you.”
I reach back and remember when you first came over – your hand in my pocket. I reach back, in my pocket are your panties… and I smile. You take my head in your hands and kiss me for the first time and then pull me to the dance floor, laughing.
A few more drinks, a few more dances somehow you always manage to move against me, to keep me straining. I wonder if people know what you’re doing to me, but they’re all obsessed with their own worlds at this point.
It’s nearly last call and you suggest that we leave. Then you invite me back to your place… it’s just across the street, we can leave the car here, get it in the AM, go back and have our own private dances. I’m no fool. You hand me the keys and we walk and semi-dance and talk and flirt and occasionally kiss on our way over to the hotel – it’s only about a football field away.
In the elevator on the way to the room, you press me against the wall firmly. You start kissing me deeply, running your hands over my body, over my jeans, my crotch. You moan when you you feel me, but you only glance over it, just in time for the doors to open and head to your room.
Once in the room, it’s a dizzying spin and dance of moving around the room, attacking each other, kissing, groping, grabbing at anything in range to make the other one moan or groan. We end up by the bed and with a spin and push, I’m suddenly flat on my back, you on top of me, pinning me.
“Well, hello there…” I tell you with a grin. “You’re going to need to be quiet now,” you tell me.
“Oh? Or else…? ” I stupidly ask.
“No or else. I’ll just have to shut you up,” you tell me.
I may have laughed. But I didn’t mean it to be quite so much of a laugh, but there it was. The next thing I know, my arms are no longer pinned by your hands. They’re pinned by your knees as you lower yourself onto me.
“You need to be quiet and use that mouth of yours for other things…”
I start slowly, carefully licking you, up, down, around, learning your sensitive spots, what you want and need. It’s not difficult to tell, your responses are clear and soon you’re bucking against my face to help out. But I’m trying to play with you a bit, trying to make things last a bit longer, so I don’t concentrate a specific area, but rather all around and inside and back and forth…
“Oh, fuck this. This is where you will be…” you tell me. You grab handfuls of hair on both sides of my head and force my head exactly where you want it, and then hold me there with my hair, your legs. Within seconds, you’re headed for your first orgasm and it shakes through you hard. You forget for a moment that you have me as your toy, but then remember…
Instead of letting me loose, you pull me in tighter, again positioning me where you need me, this time you’re fucking my chin, my tongue and rubbing your clit back and forth with my nose and the entire thing is amazing and overwhelming. It’s completely using me as your fucktoy at this point – like a human vibrator – or more like a rabbit.
Your orgasm washes over you and I feel it start from your upper body and rumble down through my face, my body, my arms and head as you clamp down on me and bend forward grabbing for the wall. As you start to come down you roll over your back and again pull me toward you, kissing me deeply and sucking your juices off my face – only to press me down onto you once again, but this time letting go of me as you hold the pillow with a death grip.
You’re nearly sated and I have this weird mix of pride and unbelievable horniness that has me in full animal mode. I can see the front of my pants are even wet now from leaking and you reach down and unbutton/unzip my pants – telling me to get them off.
It takes all of about 2.2 seconds.
You reach inside my underwear and cup my balls and smile. You pull me in for a deep kiss, all the while squeezing me intensely. It’s dizzying and that, combined with the rest of the evening has my head swimming in lust. I’m leaking like crazy and you pull your hand back and see the mess I’m making.
You grin at me and pull me by my cage and balls up to lay beside you.
“That was really nice. I do love your tongue honey… too bad tonight’s not your night. Perhaps in the morning, or when we get back home tomorrow. You just never know…”
I press up against you, feeling my cage do its job, feeling my entire insides fighting to pull back from the edge as it washes over me.
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