"Jesus," you say, but you comply anyway. "Why don't I just take it off?"
"That'll come later." I give you what I hope is a devilish smile, and you head to the dance floor just as the waitress brings you a refill. I notice a very slight stumble; you're buzzed, and I hope that means you're loose enough to really get into it.
I have nothing to worry about.
You drain your wine in a series of quick gulps. A few drops fall down your chin, but you deftly catch those with a finger that you then place into your mouth. I can practically feel you suck it from where I'm sitting. You throw yourself into the sea of bodies.
The music is deafening. The bass is turned all the way up; I can feel it in my cock. I can only imagine what it's doing to you. Then you run your hand lightly over your tits and open your mouth slightly, and I don't have to imagine. You finally choose a target. It's a tall, dark-haired guy, and I feel an odd surge of pride that he looks enough like me. You whisper something into his ear, and he's soon moving behind you, his hands on your waist. You seem to jump in and out of existence under the strobe lights.
You're completely into it, but you rarely lose eye contact with me. You want me to know that this is a show for an audience of one. The intensity of the music increases, and your dancing becomes frenetic. You close your eyes and lose yourself in the thumping beat. I see your dance partner's hands begin to slide up your front. I'm almost shocked to realize that my reaction isn't anger or jealousy, but a twisted anticipation. His hands reach your breasts, and your eyes pop open in surprise. You look at me, as if for approval, and I nod. You lick your lips, and throw one of your arms behind you, over the man's head. You place your other hand inside your shirt, and I think I can see you running your fingers along the top of your breast. You close your eyes again and bite your lip.
This is better than I could have imagined, but it gets even better. Our cocktail waitress wanders out to the dance floor and replaces your empty glass. I notice that you grab her hand and hold it for a few seconds as you accept your drink. She nods about something. A million scenarios fly through my head all at once, and I unconsciously drop my hand and begin to stroke my cock slowly.
You share a few more words with her, and she disappears. You pick up where you left off on the dance floor. Another guy joins in; it's too dim to see what he looks like, but you definitely don't mind. You're sandwiched between the two, a set of hands on your tits, another on your hips. Again, you look in my direction, and I nod. I'm close to putting a stop to it, not because I'm angry, but because I'm so fucking turned on.
I jump when I hear a voice within inches of my ear. "Your wife wants you to dance." It's the waitress, and she's changed out of her outfit into a silk tank top and jeans. "Like right now," she yells, just to be heard.
"Nah. She looks busy."
The waitress puts on an exasperated look. "She also said that you're not very quick sometimes," she coos, and grabs my hand. She pulls me to the dance floor, leading me through the bodies until we take a spot right next to you. She begins to sway her hips seductively and run her hands through her long hair. She spins and throws herself into me, as you did earlier. In a reversal of the previous arrangement, I look to you for the okay, and you give it. The waitress notices, too, and thrusts her ass backwards into my crotch. There's no sense attempting to hide my hard-on, so I grab her waist and pull her into me harder. You mimic it with the first guy.
You and I aren't touching, but at this very second, we are fucking. Our eyes lock, and we seem to engage in a game of one-upmanship to see who can push it further.
The waitress throws her arms backward around my neck and pulls my head down to her neck. I breathe in her perfume...musky and sexy. Your mouth drops open, and you run your tongue over your lips. I swear you're close to coming, and it's driving me crazy. As I have two fingertips hooked just inside the waitress's waistband and she's grinding a mile a minute, I know I'm not far away from coming myself.
I break away from the waitress and grab your hand, pulling you away from your two partners. We leave three rather confused people behind, any of whom may be protesting, but I don't hear them, nor do I give a fuck. We grab our coats from the table and head outside.
You can't keep your hands off of me, or yourself, for the matter, as I hail a cab. We get in the backseat, and you immediately begin biting my neck and unbuckling my belt. I catch the cabbie's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Do you care?" I ask him, hoping the answer is no.
He laughs. "You get yours, bro. Where to?"
You get my cock free and waste no time going down on me. You deep throat it and I groan. "Where the fuck ever. Just drive."
The cab takes off, and you continue sucking my cock. I throw my head back and enjoy it. Your head moves faster and faster, then you start jerking me off harder than you ever have. You pull your head off long enough to order, "Come in my fuckin' mouth!" and I explode down your throat. I yell something unintelligible as I shoot spurt after spurt and you swallow every drop.
I think we're done for now, but you won't let up. You continue jerking me off, telling me to stay hard. There's no chance of my dick going soft now. I pull your skirt up, grab two good handfuls of your panties, and tear them off. Between the come and saliva on my dick and your dripping wet pussy, you slide down my cock with ease.
I notice that we're not in motion anymore. We're stopped at a light, and several sets of eyes stare at us. This turns you on even more, and you ride me so hard it's almost painful. I begin to work at your shirt; at some point in the night, another one of your buttons came undone. I make a mental note to ask you about this, but right now I say, "Fuck it," and just rip it open. I pull your bra roughly up over your tits. I grab one in each hand and begun to suck and bite them alternately. You have a hand on each one of my shoulders, giving you the leverage to slam down on my cock.
But I don't think you're getting fucked hard enough. I pull you off me and throw you on the seat roughly. I bend you over and jam my dick into your cunt. You throw your head back, and I take the opportunity to grab a handful of hair. I yank hard; you yelp and tell me to fuck the shit out of you. I pull your hair even harder; I don't think I can possibly be too rough for your tastes. I slam into you brutally, a scream escaping your mouth with each pounding.
You shriek that you're coming, and I feel your muscles tighten around my cock, attempting to force me out of you, I grab your hips and lean into you as you buck, shooting my come deep into your cunt. It seems to go on forever. When it stops, we both collapse forward.
"Holy...fucking...Christ..." is all you can say. "Holy...fucking...Christ."
When I catch my breath, I give the driver our address. I don't think that we're done with each other yet.
