Author's Note:
This is a short reimagining of a scene from my story, "Alcove Sexual Escapades," from a different character's perspective. The idea came from a comment ComeTogetherNow posted about that story. I thought it would be fun to explore how a secondary character viewed, felt, and experienced a narrative, filling in some context for that character. "So, who was that guy? Where did he come from and how did he end up where he did?" I also wrote the narrative in the third-party present tense for fun, a self-challenging departure from my usual style.
As usual, this is a work of fiction, in a universe where unprotected sex has no consequences, so enjoy it as such. Any resemblance to any person or event is unintentional and coincidental, and of course, everyone is over 18. I hope you enjoy it—I'd love your feedback. You don't need to read the original first to appreciate this one, but it would put the narrative in context to read both.
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Marcus enters the busy nightclub, hoping to meet some fun and exciting people—sexy women are always a welcome bonus. He grabs a drink and wanders around the dance floor's perimeter, taking the measure of the place. Things look promising; the club is packed, and he spots many attractive women who are alone, with other women, or in groups.
He is nice looking: fit, well-proportioned, and has an easy smile. Being just shy of 30 gives him the confidence and maturity to appeal to a wide range of ages, and he generally connects easily with new people. Also, because he's not specifically looking for a sexual hookup—though that is not undesired—the lack of sexual pressure usually makes him more attractive to women. Especially women looking to dance, flirt, and have fun rather than for a one-night stand.
The bar and dance floor areas are filled with patrons of all ages, body types, dance abilities, and attractiveness. Marcus watches the dancing, flirting, and social connections among the various people. He occasionally makes small talk with random women and enjoys the relaxed and open atmosphere tonight.
A woman in her mid-twenties steps off the floor and picks up a drink from a table next to Marcus. She smiles at Marcus and lifts her glass in a tiny greeting. The woman is cute, with cropped dark hair, blue eyes, and a petite figure. Her short white dress plunges down the front to her navel—Marcus wonders how her boobs do not pop out. The look is erotic and beguiling.
Trying to both meet her eyes and enjoy the exposed curve of her breast, Marcus nods, returns her smile, asks her how she's doing, and learns her name is Paige. After chatting a bit, he asks her to dance. They head onto the dance floor and instantly connect in rhythm and style.
Over several songs, their dancing becomes more sensual, permeated with erotic undercurrents. Paige turns their touching to the sexual by grinding her ass against Marcus's cock, gyrating and swaying her hips. His dick swells, and he presses his erection between her butt cheeks. Marcus pulls Paige's hips into his groin, and she shimmies her ass against his stiff rod.
Marcus is amazed and aroused.
Fuck, it's as if we're fucking right here in front of everyone. That would be wild.
Paige straightens, leans back against Marcus, and wraps her hands over her head behind his neck, swaying to the music. Marcus slides his arms around her waist and belly and enjoys a full-body hug with her from behind. His cock pulses with arousal against her gyrating butt. Paige murmurs with pleasure.
Paige then arches her back, pressing her barely-covered breasts up in a languorous stretch. Marcus responds to what he perceives as an invitation to caress by sliding his hands lightly over Paige's boobs.
But Marcus misreads the moment; Paige pulls away, saying, "Woah—watch it there, Doc Ock." She gives him a reproachful look.
Marcus is confused.
She grinds against my hard cock with her whole body but gets mad if I touch her—where is the line with her? Maybe body parts are okay, but no hands...
Paige turns and continues dancing, facing Marcus. Her expression is not angry or irritated—maybe more chastising or cautioning. A hint of amusement. A coy smile. She is still flirting, just surprised. Things are still okay.
"Sorry, I got carried away," Marcus muttered. "You're too sexy for your own good."
Paige smiles sensuously as Marcus runs his fingers neck down between her boobs to her belly, careful not to drift onto forbidden territory. Paige leans in, wraps her arms around his neck, and presses her entire body front to front against him. Their lips nearly meet, but she turns aside and rests her head on his broad chest. Her breathing is slightly ragged and her heartbeat has picked up. Marcus feels waves of warm pleasure surging through his loins.
Marcus pivots together so Paige's back is to the wall away from the dance floor. He slides his hands down from her waist, cups her toned ass, and pulls her in tightly. Paige accepts that touch; she presses her pelvis forward into his hard cock again from the front. Her barely-covered breasts squish against his chest.
Marcus relishes the contact.
Okay, so ass groping is okay. Hmm.
Pushing the envelope a little more, Marcus lowers his hands and cups Paige's bum cheeks under her short skirt, feeling her bare skin.
Bare—or a thong, maybe?
His cock throbs painfully, hard as he can remember, contained by his tight pants. Paige makes small mewling noises.
"Like to get away from here, find some privacy?" Marcus pants, fire and arousal flaring in his eyes.
Paige smiles broadly but shakes her head. "Oh, that is so tempting, seriously. But, I'm sorry to say, it will have to be another time; I've got to get back to my friends." Her eyes run up and down Marcus's body—well-built, muscular chest, and a noticeable bulge in his crotch. "Definitely tempting." Paige briefly tickles his bulging crotch, winks, and walks away. Her short dress sways with her hips.
"Okay, yeah, definitely," Marcus murmurs with a sigh, not bothering to hide his obvious arousal. He watches Paige leave: his balls very blue, his cock very hard.
Ah, fuck, I'm so damn worked up right now I could explode right here.
Marcus goes to the bar and grabs a drink. As his eyes roam the dance floor, he is drawn to a sexy woman in a tight black dress with auburn hair loosely pulled up. She is dancing with a good-looking guy—they seem to be a couple from their body language and interactions. Boyfriend probably. He chuckles to himself, as the term 'dancing' hardly applies to their activity.
It's more like grinding, dry-humping foreplay. I suppose that is how Paige and I looked.
The sexy woman has a supple, toned body and moves sensuously. Her handful-sized breasts seem unencumbered by a bra and they ripple and move freely under her tight top. Marcus casually watches the couple kissing, pressing and gyrating their crotches together, and chatting. Marcus feels a warm churning in his balls, his unabated arousal fueled by the visual interactions of the attractive couple. Primarily because of the sexy woman in the slinky black dress.
Black Dress's boyfriend leaves her and heads toward the bathroom. Before she can sit, drink, or rest, a handsome Latino man approaches her, and they dance—both dance well and are fun to watch. Marcus appreciates the couple's rhythm and musicality. Still, his general arousal triggers sexual thoughts, and he wonders what it would be like to be with her.
Lucky guy who gets a taste of her—so gorgeous and sexy.
Marcus is a bit buzzed—not drunk—and very horny. His mind drifts, caught up in the music, physicality, and sexuality of the club's atmosphere, until a small voice catches his attention. Marcus shifts his focus to see a pretty, petite redhead standing by him, wearing tight white jeans and a blue rhinestone-spangled top. Her green eyes sparkle in the flashing lights.
"So, just looking, or looking to dance?" Miss Sparkles asks. Her smile is infectious—not sexual, just genuine.
Marcus smiles—he is flattered, intrigued, and enticed. "I'd love to dance... with you, that is." Sparkles takes his hand, and they step onto the dance floor. She is a good dancer. Fun, rhythmical, and inventive. Her top is not particularly revealing, but she also does not seem to be wearing a bra; her breasts bounce and wiggle loosely as she moves. Marcus struggles to keep his eyes on hers instead of on the alluring chest movements under her top.
Sparkles isn't overtly flirting or dancing suggestively. She is apparently interested in actually dancing instead of sexual teasing. A nice respite from the constant sexual stimulation around him but not enough to alleviate Marcus's simmering libido. Sparkles is, after all, a hot, sexy woman, one he'd love to pull down and fuck silly. Marcus is glad his erection has subsided despite his sexual thoughts about the attractive redhead before him.