Sandra felt his hand snaking underneath her skirt, and she almost giggled at how utterly bold her new acquaintance was being. A hand was placed lightly against the bare skin where her hip folded into her derrière, and she felt fingers slither in between the elastic of her underwear and begin to insistently tug.
He couldn’t possible mean to do that, could he? She knew that he did, and as unsurprising as it was…it was still surprising.
“No no no no no…” she whispered at him, a wry smile crossing her face even as she said it. He continued, now reaching his fingers between her legs. Even as she wrapped her thin hand around his wrist, he ignored her words and ran his fingers up and down the thin cotton that covered her womanhood.
Whether from the chemicals coursing through her body or the risqué situation itself, his touch felt damn, damn good. Sandra continued to breathe, “no…no…no…” quietly with each rhythmic movement of the hand sliding in between her legs, but she suddenly had every intention of letting him proceed with his attempts. Curiosity killed the cat, she supposed. After the fifth or sixth pass up and down, she fell silent. Her grip on his wrist fell away, and she felt her legs part. I don’t even know his name, she thought to herself, but he was bold — very bold. She relaxed, her body slumping to the side, into his, and let the rhythm of his movements take over.
She felt his breath, hot on her neck, and then his nose brushing into her short brown hair, his lips nearing her ear. “Just relax, might as well have some fun…”
The words rang in Sandra’s ears, and she allowed her brain and body to agree with it. She had already yielded to his advances a bit, and she knew he would probably grew bolder still. As her new friend continued to stoke the growing fire in between her legs, she felt his other hand travel up her leg, pulling on the flimsy elastic band of her panties. He pulled it down, until it stretched underneath her, and in one smooth motion, switched his hands, his left hand now rubbing between her legs, his right pulling down on the other side of her panties.
His hand stopped its ministrations, and he whispered, “Lift up for a second…let’s get these out of our way.” Without even thinking, just wanting the feeling to continue, she did as she was told, awkwardly lifting herself to her feet, and she felt her panties being stripped away from her, finding the floor. She went to sit back, but a hand held her up, and she heard the sound of a zipper behind her. Surely, he wasn’t…?
She felt the back of her skirt being lifted, and two strong hands pulled at the sides of her hips, urging her to sit back down, now on his lap. She did so carefully, somewhat fearful that it was not only her clothing that had been removed…
She found his legs pushed together, his intent no doubt that she should sit on his lap, perhaps even straddle him, but instead Sandra sat daintily on the edge of his lap. She smiled…not that easy, buddy. In response, she felt him pull her back, nearly lifting her onto him. His hands gripped underneath her thighs, and she felt the air against the exposed dampness between her legs.
Her mind swimming, everything happening so fast. It didn’t seem real. She felt the tug of war between her desire and her nervousness, her skirt flipped up in the back, her panties somewhere on the floor. Everything was happening so quickly, and Sandra was mildly alarmed to find herself pulled against a warm bump, and she realized that, pressed between her and his shirt, was his erect penis.
Her eyes darted around the dark club before them — had anyone noticed? At other tables she could see furtive movement in the dark, probably couples opening groping one another in semi-anonymity. No one on the dance floor, grinding away in a meat market to the pleasant bass of the music paid them any mind. This place was dark on purpose, Sandra thought to herself, and there was little question that anything that she allowed to happen, would be lost in the haze of the club’s energy.
A pang of confusion swept through her for a moment, similar to the feeling that she had when briefly agonizing over her decision to follow her new friend into the club rather than head home, but now further down the path. Sandra didn’t have to make a decision yet, but every moment that she stayed involved, she knew from past experience would make stopping that much more difficult. As her brain churned she felt his hand return to its intended spot between her legs.
Sandra pushed her decision off, which she knew deep down was the same as making the decision.
She felt his prying fingers return to her now-exposed mound. What’s the harm, she thought, the dangerous mantra spreading through her. Might as well enjoy myself. Her Friday night was already off the rails, and Sandra felt old, buried instincts coming to the surface, like a friend that she had forgotten existed.
She knew her predicament, had lived it many times, and strangely felt comfortable in this uncomfortable situation. The dark confines of the booth that she was in had its own rules, and though it had been awhile, she knew the game and was more than happy to play it, at least a bit.
Sandra lifted herself up, and, surprising herself with her own boldness, reached behind her and grabbed the cock pushing against her backside.
It was hot in her hands, thick, stout. Oh my God, this thing is NOT small.
Her benefactor groaned in appreciation. “You like it?” She responded by squeezing it, acknowledging its presence but no more.
Sandra pushed it down, and lowered herself back down. She felt her outer folds rest against the shaft, and shuddered, just a bit. This is insane, she thought. She was now openly taunting this man, to do whatever he wanted with her.
Sandra realized that this strange new cock could be inside of her, so very easily. Or perhaps not so easily, she thought, noting the girth of the thing that she now sat on.
Her friend’s fingers returned, now tracing small slow circles around the hood of her clit, and she felt her wetness growing as he teased her hidden pearl.
So close… a moment away from orgasm, both from the touch and the danger. But he removed his fingers. Sandra let out an audible moan of frustration. “Please…I need to cum…” her voice trailed off. Had she just said that, out loud?
“You will,” he whispered in reply, “you will. But not yet.” She shivered at his words.
She felt his hands slide underneath her thighs, running from under her knees until he was cupping her rear.
Sandra knew what was coming next. She had lived it, it excited her to no end, just the fantasy. But now it was reality. “No…” she whispered, “Not that, I can’t…” Deep down she heard her lie and knew that she most certainly COULD do that. But decorum insisted that it not be so simple, didn’t it?
“Shhhh…” he responded and began to lift her off of the thick shaft that rubbed against her mound. Sandra closed her eyes as she felt his thick tip brush against her lips.
“No!” She whispered again more loudly, born of not wanting to make a scene or draw attention to her situation. A familiar feeling grew in her, like a long lost friend – the intoxicating mixture of doing exactly the wrong thing and the most natural thing…Sandra knew deep down what was going to happen.
She felt her arousal growing. Sandra could fuck this man, this stranger. She knew it. And in the moment, she had never wanted something more.
This can’t be happening, her adult brain cautioned her. I can’t just have SEX with this man.
Another thought crossed her mind. Yes, I CAN.
Just relax,” he reassured her. “It’s going to feel so good…”
She felt his hands release her rear, and she found her outer lips pressed against his thick head, her wetness rubbing against it. One hand wrapped around the bottom of her waist, holding her in place, while the other returned to the soft folds between her legs.
His fingers found their mark right away, and Sandra found her hips swaying as he gently stroked her tiny nub back and forth, and with each movement back and forth she could feel the tip of his glans rubbing against her folds. It was a quiet, intimate dance that she had taken part in many times, though this time felt deliciously different.
She felt an orgasm approaching, a dull roar inside of her ears that drowned out the cacophony of noises in the club. She felt her breathing quicken. And then, suddenly, he pulled his fingers away.
Sandra groaned in frustration, and rocked her hips, urging him to continue, but at least getting some mild relief from the tip now nestled within her folds.
“Please,” she whispered, “C’mon, I need to cum…”
In response his hands again reached under her lap, and lifted her up, slightly, his cock tip sliding further into place. Sandra knew she should stop him but also knew that she would not. The drinks rushing through her bloodstream and the frustrations of a monotonous life made the decision easy, obvious.
The simplest thought crossed her mind: I want this.
Then the next thought: I need this.
His hands returned to where they had been, one wrapped tightly around her waist, the other, to the aching burn between her legs.
She felt his cock head trying to widen her out, knowing its intended destination, and encouraging it mentally, coaxing it to its destination.
He softly stroked her again, up and down the length of her exposed slit. Up and down, up and down. She felt her climax building, and she could feel her lips were parting, preparing to accept him inside of her.