Keys But Not How Youre Thinking

Again again, new characters, because I can't commit to a story. Any critique welcome! Don't hurt my feelings though...

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The *clack* of my keys hitting the floor next to her didn't register over the booming music of the club, and so I made a conspicuous show of reaching down to the floor a foot or so from her ankles. "Excuse me," I said, "Are these yours?"

She looked at me quizzically, then turning to her friends as she responded. "No? Girls? Yeah, I don't think so, sorry..."

Urgh. Now the hard part - so much worse when making eye contact. Especially with a girl so wildly attractive, dressed in (promiscuous) (hot) clubbing attire, with the smell of people and alcohol permeating the air.

"Are you sure?" I tilted my head slightly to the side, mouth slightly open to indicate confusion. "I'm pretty sure they're yours...since they're the keys to my heart." I grinned, embarrassed, but proud I had gone through with this particular sequence.

She let out an exaggerated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose and massaging her eyelids. "Horrible!" she exclaimed, smiling through it.

Damn. She was really pretty. I'd really never gotten this far before.

I reached a hand out, less as a handshake, but open-palmed, in a gentlemanly request to dance, as if my intentions were anything but rough. Yet she grabbed my hand, not using it to close the already-small distance between us, but placing it on her waist. Exposed skin was plentiful, and it had the warmth of both exertion and a BAC that meant if we got out of here, I was driving.

At this distance, I could better notice the little and large details of her appearance: mildly flushed cheeks and slight shortness of breath for the aforementioned reasons, and more than satisfactory curves exactly where I like them - but who's looking? I, for one, was far more anxious regarding the state of my fingers on her skin. She slowly turned around, lifting my hands over her head and back onto her waist but more towards the front, as she grinded in sync with the music. Certainly a tent was being pitched, but my denim was stiffer than my biology.

This did not escape her notice in the least, though, and she increased her intensity, arching her back to whisper to me, most unfortunately affording an enticingly erotic view of perfectly round breasts slightly swaying as sweat made them gently cling to the fabric of her tube top. I leaned forwards to catch what she was saying.

'How big are you?"

It was a whisper, and spoken softly and seductively, but her lips were so close to my ear I could fully feel the warmth of her breath. I shuddered, but whispered with equal quietness but conscious confidence, "One way to find out..."

"I think I'm doing a pretty good job, no? I need to know what I'm working with."

"Honestly, I just really don't remember...besides, isn't the answer totally dependent on you?"

She stopped moving, and turned to face me squarely. My hands fell from her. A moment passed, her eyebrows taught, searching for something in my eyes. My heart was beating out of my chest, and my something else beating out of its something something.

And in one coordinated move, she pulled my neck down with such quickness it almost hurt, simultaneously unzipping my jeans and freeing my something from its fabric cell. So commenced a ferocious attack on my lips; hers were soft and moist - supple came to mind, and tongues intertwined as her fingers deftly stroked my wood, a finger and then two making their way through the underwear and to the skin. She broke away for a moment, and this time when she spoke, it was my lips I could feel her breath on. "Yeah... I'm gonna enjoy you."

With an assertive stride and seemingly instant sobriety I couldn't understand, she walked away from the dance floor, beckoning me with one finger. I, though, was something of a tough cookie. I was not so easily convinced by just a pretty face, and good banter, and ample cleavage, and gyration to die for, and-

I followed, but with my back straight, and a stride that I tried to make look not too obedient. I surely was failing, as that became a mild jog to catch up to her. She tossed me my keys - when did she get those? and as I shifted the car into drive, she grabbed my right hand. She guided me to an empty parking lot, and my hand between tastefully toned thighs. Almost uncomfortably hot, as she squeezed her legs together to the point I wondered if I would lose circulation. I couldn't tell how close or far to her nethers I was - moistness could just as easily be sweat.

As we reached the lot, she immediately let go. "Out."

I was faced with another decision point. Yes, she was attractive, but I wasn't a meek little guy who wanted to be ordered around coldly. I stood at a perfectly reasonable 5'10", and wasn't ugly at all. Where was I even going with her? Where was I? Was I really doing this, when I could potentially turn around and find a more vanilla hookup? These thoughts flitted around my head as I hesitatingly looked at her and obviously got out of the car.

"Strip." Her hands were behind her back, eyes traversing my body, mentally undressing me as some sort of the precursor to the physical. I looked around, now seriously thinking thrice. It was still a public lot, even if it was beyond midnight and totally vacant. I slowly took off my shirt, but was evidently not proceeding.

Her eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. "Hey." Our faces were inches away again. "Do you want me?"

I swallowed, my throat dry due to reasons that were definitely only alcohol. "Yeah."

"What?"

"Yes. I do."

"Yeah, I know. Now strip, or the night ends here." I really didn't know how she planned on getting back if I did choose to end the night, but perhaps she knew me well enough to know that wasn't a possibility - or rather, knew her allure well enough. Off came the pants, and with much delay, the underwear.

She smiled, and the warmth made me want to smile as well. "Good. Not so hard, was that?" She glanced down. "Even if this is." She bent at the waist, her face drawing level at a dick growing harder the longer she stared. From that position, with her face a few inches from my dick, she tilted her head up to reach my gaze, and without breaking eye contact, slowly got on her knees.

The same lips that sent me to ecstasy just recently were on for a repeat performance as she enveloped me to the base. I could feel the heat of her mouth as she swirled her tongue all around it, a hand reaching up to fondly my balls as she did so.

She started stroking me, shifting my balls to her mouth, licking and sucking and nibbling and everything else. A small moan escaped my lips, which I quickly tried to cover with my hand. My knees buckled as I groaned, "I'm com-"

The sensation stopped. Her hand was still on my dick, leaking precum and her saliva mixed into an indistinguishable lube. My dick pulsated, veins popping, aching for release.

"My hand's dirty," she purred, inserting her fingers into my mouth. I sucked, eyes still locked with hers. She began pushing down and my head naturally followed suit, until I was on my knees.

She smiled and bent over, leaving the crest of her breasts in my sight and leaning in to whisper in my ear. "You look so much cuter down here," she breathed. I could feel the heat and moistness in my ear with each syllable. Some more precum dribbled out of my still oh-so-erect dick. I looked up at her lustfully, so horny, needing release so desperately.

With no ado, I grabbed my dick and started jerking it powerfully. My hand slipped off from the mixture of juices that hadn't subsided in any way. I moaned freely, panting and bending over while still on my knees.

I looked up at her. She gave me a knowing, satisfied smile, and it sent me over the edge as I came exorbitantly, semen shooting out for several seconds after the orgasm, dribbling as I recovered my breath.

She squatted down. "Yeah, you'll do just fine." My dick grew hard again.