Here's the start of a story... anyone willing/interested in finishing it?
When I see you enter the club with your husband,
I can tell by the way your still-moist hair clings a
bit to your head that you've followed my instructions
as given. Having only recently stepped out of your
second shower of the day, you're freshly, and
completely shaven, but unadorned by any perfumes or
deodorants. With a naughty, but nervous smile, you
plant a kiss on his cheek, urging him to find a good
seat at the bar, one where he can see your every move
as you sidle onto the dance floor. From where I sit I
can see the sides of your breasts as they peek out
around your sleeveless black dress. Your clean body
looks perfect, the skirt short enough to show your
flawless legs, but long enough to preserve the
mystery. Following my instructions, you make your way
onto the floor, stopping in the middle, surrounded by
sweaty, dancing bodies. You search the throbbing
crowd, trying to find me, a drop of sweat already
beading up on your forehead as the heat of the dancers
bakes you. As if that one drop opened a floodgate,
you feel as if your entire body has suddenly been
coated in sweat, the club's almost oppressive heat
causing your body to cover itself in your salty
moistness. Just when you start to think that I'm a
fluke, that I've blown of the meeting, you feel a
large pair of hands wrap around your waist from
behind. "Good evening," I say into your ear.
You flinch just a bit at the suprise of my hands
and reply with a simple "Hello".
"Where's your husband?" I ask.
"At the bar, third stool from the right".
"Good, he can see everything".
I give him a tiny smile, already knowing how I'm
going to use you, how you'll be helpless under my
touch, and how much he'll be enjoying the show. I
pull your body tight to mine, wrapping my arms around
your waist as we begin to rock our bodies in time with
the music. The pounding rhythm sets a pace not unlike
that of a good, hard, fuck, and our motion gradually
becomes more and more like that of intercourse. Our
hips thrust forward and back while we remain glued
together, my groin against your tight bottom. My
hands slide freely up and down your now-sweaty body,
rubbing over your hips, waist, tight stomach, and up
to just under your breasts. I can feel the heat that
radiates between us, and I know that you're just as
hot as I am. I lower my head, my teeth gently
nibbling at your ear, and you can feel my hot breath
against you neck. I raise my right hand, and use it
to trace a line from behind your ear, down your neck,
across your shoulders, and then down your arm, feeling
the hot sheen of dewy sweat that covers your entire
body. I can only imagine the state of your shaven
pits right now, the smell of your clean sweat brought
on by the sauna-like heat of the dance floor. My
right hand wraps around your own, and, as my lips
slide down the left side of your neck, I guide your
hand backwards, to rest on the stiff bulge of my
erection. "Make sure he can see your eyes," I say
into your ear, "make sure Tony can see your eyes while
I have my way with you".
Your hand greedily works it's way over my
erection, rubbing, teasing, stroking through my pants,
as my hands once again find their way to your hips.
"Remember," I say, "you belong to me, tonight. Now
raise your arms".
With no little amount of regret, I guide your
hand away from my cock, and, with my hands at your
elbows, push your arms up high over your head. At
first, the crowd around us fails to notice us anymore
than any other couple, seeing your raised arms as an
indicator of our empassioned dancing. After a time
though, they notice that our dancing has stopped, and
that your arms remain straight up in the air, your
eyes locked to those of your husband. For now,
though, we are of passing concern to our fellow
dancers, and they continue to writhe around us, the
press of people tight against our bodies.
My lips fall to your shoulder, my breath, hotter
even than the air around us, falls down your left
shoulderblade as I kiss my was around the back of your
shoulder. My hands work their way down your hips,
thumbs stretching back to rub down along the contour
of your ass, while my fingers wrap around the front of
your thighs. I draw a deep breath through my nose
once I reach your left armpit, inhaling deeply of your
scent. The heat of the dance floor, combined with our
dancing and sexual excitement has produced a light,
musky scent, and I savor every bit of it. You can
feel my nose touching the tender, shaven skin as it
travels up and down, left and right, making sure to
sniff out every inch of your beautiful underarm.
At the same time, my hands reach the hem of your
skirt, and my fingers slide deftly underneath it. I
can feel the sweat on your tight legs as I slowly lift
your skirt upward. My tongue darts out of my mouth,
giving your pit a quick taste before my lips descend,
planting wet kisses against the sweaty skin.
You can feel your skirt rising up over the curve
of your hips, and you know now, without looking, that
your sheer, black panties are visible to anyone who
chooses to look. You remain still, however,
regardless of the show you're putting on, arms still
straigt up over your head, eyes locked to Tony's.
"Such a good girl," I say, pleased at your ability to
follow my directives, "you're going to fuck me good
tonight, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," you gasp, "and my husband will watch
every second of it".
With a grin that only your husband can see, I
allow the fingers of my right hand to slide beneath
the waistband of your panties, gliding easily against
the sweaty, bare skin as they find their way
downwards. You feel my tongue lick long paths up your
pit. Stopping at the top of each run you hear me smack
my lips as I savor the taste of your sweat. The taste
of you, without any other artificial scents to ruin
your musk. You notice that the crowd around us has
lessened, our continued inappropriate behavior causing
no shortage of discomfort to those around us. Tony
has an even clearer view of us now that the crowd has
thinned, and I can see his eyes lock onto your crotch.
His eyes widen a bit when my fingers slide down
between your legs, rubbing the length of your pussy
lips. The mixture of sweat from between your thighs,
and juice from your excited cunt allows my fingers to
slide effortlessly up and down your lips. My head
disappears from your left pit, only to reappear at
your right, and my tongue immediately begins working.
I can now smell the scents of sex intermingled with
your own odors, your wet pussy sending off it's own
musk as my fingers tease your clit. You stifle a
giggle when my lips once again kiss your sweat-soaked
pit. My tongue works in concert with then, and the
effect is almost like a french kiss between myself and
your underarm.
My fingers suddenly slip between your lips, and,
in the middle of the dance floor, with your husband,
and hundreds of dancers watching, you find yourself
with two of my fingers inside your dripping pussy.
When I see you enter the club with your husband,
I can tell by the way your still-moist hair clings a
bit to your head that you've followed my instructions
as given. Having only recently stepped out of your
second shower of the day, you're freshly, and
completely shaven, but unadorned by any perfumes or
deodorants. With a naughty, but nervous smile, you
plant a kiss on his cheek, urging him to find a good
seat at the bar, one where he can see your every move
as you sidle onto the dance floor. From where I sit I
can see the sides of your breasts as they peek out
around your sleeveless black dress. Your clean body
looks perfect, the skirt short enough to show your
flawless legs, but long enough to preserve the
mystery. Following my instructions, you make your way
onto the floor, stopping in the middle, surrounded by
sweaty, dancing bodies. You search the throbbing
crowd, trying to find me, a drop of sweat already
beading up on your forehead as the heat of the dancers
bakes you. As if that one drop opened a floodgate,
you feel as if your entire body has suddenly been
coated in sweat, the club's almost oppressive heat
causing your body to cover itself in your salty
moistness. Just when you start to think that I'm a
fluke, that I've blown of the meeting, you feel a
large pair of hands wrap around your waist from
behind. "Good evening," I say into your ear.
You flinch just a bit at the suprise of my hands
and reply with a simple "Hello".
"Where's your husband?" I ask.
"At the bar, third stool from the right".
"Good, he can see everything".
I give him a tiny smile, already knowing how I'm
going to use you, how you'll be helpless under my
touch, and how much he'll be enjoying the show. I
pull your body tight to mine, wrapping my arms around
your waist as we begin to rock our bodies in time with
the music. The pounding rhythm sets a pace not unlike
that of a good, hard, fuck, and our motion gradually
becomes more and more like that of intercourse. Our
hips thrust forward and back while we remain glued
together, my groin against your tight bottom. My
hands slide freely up and down your now-sweaty body,
rubbing over your hips, waist, tight stomach, and up
to just under your breasts. I can feel the heat that
radiates between us, and I know that you're just as
hot as I am. I lower my head, my teeth gently
nibbling at your ear, and you can feel my hot breath
against you neck. I raise my right hand, and use it
to trace a line from behind your ear, down your neck,
across your shoulders, and then down your arm, feeling
the hot sheen of dewy sweat that covers your entire
body. I can only imagine the state of your shaven
pits right now, the smell of your clean sweat brought
on by the sauna-like heat of the dance floor. My
right hand wraps around your own, and, as my lips
slide down the left side of your neck, I guide your
hand backwards, to rest on the stiff bulge of my
erection. "Make sure he can see your eyes," I say
into your ear, "make sure Tony can see your eyes while
I have my way with you".
Your hand greedily works it's way over my
erection, rubbing, teasing, stroking through my pants,
as my hands once again find their way to your hips.
"Remember," I say, "you belong to me, tonight. Now
raise your arms".
With no little amount of regret, I guide your
hand away from my cock, and, with my hands at your
elbows, push your arms up high over your head. At
first, the crowd around us fails to notice us anymore
than any other couple, seeing your raised arms as an
indicator of our empassioned dancing. After a time
though, they notice that our dancing has stopped, and
that your arms remain straight up in the air, your
eyes locked to those of your husband. For now,
though, we are of passing concern to our fellow
dancers, and they continue to writhe around us, the
press of people tight against our bodies.
My lips fall to your shoulder, my breath, hotter
even than the air around us, falls down your left
shoulderblade as I kiss my was around the back of your
shoulder. My hands work their way down your hips,
thumbs stretching back to rub down along the contour
of your ass, while my fingers wrap around the front of
your thighs. I draw a deep breath through my nose
once I reach your left armpit, inhaling deeply of your
scent. The heat of the dance floor, combined with our
dancing and sexual excitement has produced a light,
musky scent, and I savor every bit of it. You can
feel my nose touching the tender, shaven skin as it
travels up and down, left and right, making sure to
sniff out every inch of your beautiful underarm.
At the same time, my hands reach the hem of your
skirt, and my fingers slide deftly underneath it. I
can feel the sweat on your tight legs as I slowly lift
your skirt upward. My tongue darts out of my mouth,
giving your pit a quick taste before my lips descend,
planting wet kisses against the sweaty skin.
You can feel your skirt rising up over the curve
of your hips, and you know now, without looking, that
your sheer, black panties are visible to anyone who
chooses to look. You remain still, however,
regardless of the show you're putting on, arms still
straigt up over your head, eyes locked to Tony's.
"Such a good girl," I say, pleased at your ability to
follow my directives, "you're going to fuck me good
tonight, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," you gasp, "and my husband will watch
every second of it".
With a grin that only your husband can see, I
allow the fingers of my right hand to slide beneath
the waistband of your panties, gliding easily against
the sweaty, bare skin as they find their way
downwards. You feel my tongue lick long paths up your
pit. Stopping at the top of each run you hear me smack
my lips as I savor the taste of your sweat. The taste
of you, without any other artificial scents to ruin
your musk. You notice that the crowd around us has
lessened, our continued inappropriate behavior causing
no shortage of discomfort to those around us. Tony
has an even clearer view of us now that the crowd has
thinned, and I can see his eyes lock onto your crotch.
His eyes widen a bit when my fingers slide down
between your legs, rubbing the length of your pussy
lips. The mixture of sweat from between your thighs,
and juice from your excited cunt allows my fingers to
slide effortlessly up and down your lips. My head
disappears from your left pit, only to reappear at
your right, and my tongue immediately begins working.
I can now smell the scents of sex intermingled with
your own odors, your wet pussy sending off it's own
musk as my fingers tease your clit. You stifle a
giggle when my lips once again kiss your sweat-soaked
pit. My tongue works in concert with then, and the
effect is almost like a french kiss between myself and
your underarm.
My fingers suddenly slip between your lips, and,
in the middle of the dance floor, with your husband,
and hundreds of dancers watching, you find yourself
with two of my fingers inside your dripping pussy.
