Out Clubbing
I'm no fool so I kept in touch with Hazel after our webcam adventure. She apparently did the shows whenever her husband was away. I appeared a few more times but I never enjoyed it as much as that first time. Hazel revelled in the attention she got - the cruder the better. She loved being their 'virtual slut'. That was what kept me coming back - the sex with a turned-to-eleven-for-horny Hazel was intense. Besides, spending time with a beautiful and funny young woman did wonders for my ego.
I'd fancied her from seeing her on the train that first time; soon I was growing to love just being around her. The sex was wonderful but strangely I seemed to get an even bigger charge just from being round Hazel when she got excited by 'naughty' things. Before I really thought about it I realised just how much I loved her. When Hazel got excited, especially when she got horny, her eyes would widen. Pretty soon Holly widening her eyes was enough to have my cock hard and straining to be let loose.
So a horny Hazel meant a happy me. The next turning-point for us was when I decided to give her (and I admit me) a treat.
Her husband Steve was off pretending to be an actor and so the webcam was due to come out. But I had other ideas. Instead I invited Hazel for our first date. I booked a hotel suite in the city and we could have a weekend of fun. She loved the idea, I think money was tight courtesy of her lay-about husband. I had plenty of cash after 15 years on the exchanges and there was nothing I'd rather spend it on than Hazel.
We went shopping for clothes - no fun for me, right. Wrong, having a beautiful young woman model hot outfits just for me was a blast. She finally brought a wonderful full white dress which clung in all the right places and made her look like a Greek goddess. On to shoes. Please lets pass over the shoe-buying. I paid silly prices for shoes she'd struggle to walk in but Hazel was having fun and that was what mattered. We went to the hotel and Hazel dressed in her full finery for dinner at a restaurant I'd heard good things about. I've never been prouder than when I had that gorgeous, classy, woman on my arm.
Afterwards she wanted to hit the clubs. First, she stripped off her finery and delved into her webcam bag. The cheap clingy top, the short skirt and white hold-ups combination, a pair of big hoop ear-rings and, a new aspect, no underwear at all. My classy Greek goddess had become a cheap chav-y slut. I loved them both.
My first mistake was deciding to take the car. My second mistake was not changing the sat-nav when it was playing up the week before. My third mistake was getting the street map upside down and turning right instead of left.
It was soon clear that I had fucked up. The streets got shabbier and poorer until finally we were stopped by a red light. Just across from us was a decrepit-looking two-story building with lights spelling out 'The Pit.' Outside the door were four young Black guys. I don't know if they were dealing or if they were just having a smoke but I do know that I looked at them maybe a second too long.
"Fuck off pig", one of the guys roared and threw a half-brick which fell just short.
"Pig's gotta ho with him," noticed a second. "Bring the ho here and then fuck off pig. We'll give her what she's needing." He punctuated his words by grabbing his crotch and thrusting it at us.
I heard, "Well it IS a club," and glanced over at Hazel who had her hand on the door-catch. Her eyes were very wide.
"Fucking hell", I shouted and was about to reach out for her when I saw sense and just floored it. I saw our new black 'friends' in the rear-view laughing and giving me the finger.
"Going there would have been intense," said Hazel.
"It would have been suicide - think about it."
So I learned just how wild Hazel might be when she got in 'her horny zone.' And we started the tradition that if I said, "Think about it," she was worrying me. Not a safe word in the normal sense but it sort of worked the same way. Wild Hazel would go away for a second and Normal Hazel would consider the situation. That became the rule. I'd never ask her not to do anything, let alone tell her, it was her life and her body and she wanted to experience all it could provide for her. But if I thought things were getting too dangerous I could raise the warning flag and bring her back to 'real life'. She'd usually realise she was maybe too far out there and come back to me ... usually.
Somehow we got to my friend's parking spot and then to the club. There were some hot girls there but my little chav-ette had them all beat. I was biased but it seemed a lot of others agreed.
Now I'm pushing forty and I was never a great dancer. Hazel's lithe body was in perfect rhythm with the heavy grinding beat the DJ was sending out. I, to be frank, was not cutting it. I cupped her ear, "I'm going to sit down, you keep dancing."
"But I can't dance here alone..."
"You won't be alone long."
I settled down with a beer and watched the club. The noise was deafening, the light show intense and in the flashes I could see my love dancing. Men flocked around her competing for her attention. Tall guys and short guys, beefy guys and rail-thin guys, pretty guys and pug-ugly guys, guys of different races, guys of every kind. She danced with anyone and everyone, only pausing to drink as the music transitioned. It was beautiful. Hazel was in nirvana - feeling the dance in ever fibre of her body and knowing just how much attention her body was earning her.
I knew that I had found my reason for being. Not my career or my soon-to-be
ex-marriage, not any religion or politics. I was on the earth to help this beautiful girl find happiness and to try to keep her safe. My feelings at times like this were better than drugs, better than sex, better than anything... Plus, of course, my dick got hard.
The time flew by and I only talked with her once in two hours. "Watch the guy in the red and black shirt - he knows what he wants", she bellowed at me from two feet away. Do I need to tell you about her eyes...
I looked and saw the guy staring back at us. He was maybe 6 foot 10 and built like a brick shit-house. He probably had a West Indian grand-dad because he had a permanent tan rather than being 'black'. He was also, I must admit, damn good-looking and carried himself with a confident air.
While Hazel was attending to urgent business in the ladies loo the guy came over. "She with you," he demanded in an annoyed tone, "don't want to waste my time here."
"She does what she wants..."
