Even though I was scared of dressing up too much, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious when I stepped inside the club. The place is filled with young, beautiful and super sexy girls who look as if to sell off the latest trends at a fashion show rather than having a night out at a club. One outfit outshines the next. What's funny about this, is the girls are all so tall these days. My heart skips when I spot Max at the bar. Wearing an elegant white shirt with a v-neck, he looks as charming as ever. His suit pants have been replaced by black jeans.
One of the chicks is standing next to him, clearly picking him up. I watch my lover from behind the pillar. As the girl speaks to him, she smiles and twirls a strand of hair with her finger. Using her left hand, she reaches for a drink, holds it up to her mouth, and bites a straw. Max seems distracted, even though he appears to indulge the girl. There is a greater look of mockery on his face than usual. He looks around. I begin to envision them together instantly. Perhaps because she suits him better than I do. I can imagine her long, maroon fingernail-tipped fingers on his fly. Slowly caressing his groin area. Then, kneeling down she reaches for the zipper.
What am I doing?
When Max sees me, he waves his hand. A smile spreads across his face, and the girl is no longer to be found. As I walk over, I quickly greet him on the cheek, though I see he is clearly searching for my lips. Despite not knowing anyone here, I would rather act like we're just two friends who happened to run into each other at a party. We order drinks and have a courtesy conversation for a while about how our week has passed. Of course, I prefer him to tell the story.
My life has become monstrously dull, and I am mortified at how my greatest emotions are caused by a white laundry load accidentally thrown with a red sock. Max tells of meeting a famous traveler at the event. I listen intently.
"I haven't been in a place like this in... ages. Everyone here is almost half my age." I declare.
"Don't worry, I prefer adult and mature women."
"Fetish of yours?"
He tilts his whiskey glass and stares at the amber liquid.
"You could say that," he says after a moment. "Please don't get caught up with the age, ok." He says suddenly. "Take a look."
He grabs my chin and gently twists my face so I can see a group of twenty-year-old boys at the other end of the bar. Max leans over to me, and as he whispers, I feel the brush of his lips against my earlobe.
"See him staring at you?" He asks, and my ear turns red.
Indeed, one of the youngsters stares fiercely at me, as if the Blessed Virgin herself had appeared to him.
"I'm sure he would give up on ten chicks here just so he could trade places with me." With that, Max slips his hand between my thighs. "But I won't give you to anyone."
It's dark and crowded, the boy can't see much and yet he stares intently at us. I'm unable to stop Max. While looking him straight in the eyes, I feel his fingers reach the edge of my tight lace thong. The moisture gathered on the fabric only signifies one thing. He is relentless with his fingers, particularly with his thumb. I part my lips reflexively and let out a soft moan. Max kisses my neck, the boy keeps staring at us with a captivated look.
"You're beautiful," he whispers.
Apparently Max doesn't mind the presence of the incidental observer. He does not even glance in his direction. I gasp when I feel my laces being pushed aside. What is he doing!? I panic as his finger goes for my clitoris, which is slick with juice and swollen from my arousal. I can't stop groaning, but the music drowns it out. Max's finger keeps caressing me more and more. His hand is moving faster and faster. Thankfully people around us are preoccupied with each other. However, there is no doubt in my mind that our secret admirer knows what is going on. But I don't care. I spread my thighs to let my man in deeper.
"Not yet," Max whispers into my ear, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him.
Like a smoke, I follow him obediently. We climb the stairs together. We pass talking groups and kissing couples as we go. The staircase is empty at the top, but right below us, on the landing, two girls are kissing. One is a blonde, the other is a redhead. Both of their tongues intertwine as they press their heads against the glass. We are just a glance away. None of us seem bothered. Max puts me on a the windowsill, opens my thighs, the dress immediately rides up, revealing the black lace of the panties. Max presses his lips against them. Who knew that fondling a pussy through a piece of cloth could be so intense. There is no way to tell whether the lace is wet from my juices or from his saliva.
"Please, taste me," I begged.
The right corner of Max's mouth rises up as he stares at me triumphantly. He straightens up and thumbs down my panties. His gaze drifts to my bare flesh as if the earth bore a diamond in front of his nose. I sit there, uncovered in front of him, the sounds of the party, voices and laughter reach me from below.
As I look down, the couple on the landing are still kissing, and a redhead peers discreetly at us. She might not be able to see much in dim light. I finally felt Max licking me. Starting with long and teasingly slow movements. Shortly thereafter, my labia opened up in front of him like a flower. His lapping becomes more adventurous. To my surprise, I sense the tip of his tongue exploring my anus then he abruptly goes back up straight to my clit. I feel the tongue circling around the sensitive nub. It's incredibly nice, and I would beg him to keep going even if half the place came to watch us.
