The Piranha Spot

It was midnight, and the Piranha Spot was quickly being flooded with teenagers and twenty-somethings. The usual breakdown was in attendance: a cluster of underage girls in the corner drinking weak beer who would soon be frightened off by the less-than-amused security guards, an even smaller cluster of embarrassed white boyfriends clinging to each other for company while awkwardly nodding to the hip-hop basebeats which made the room shudder, and the dancers – halter-topped girls in low, tight jeans or baby skirts and tall, muscular black men who would approach a girl from behind, rest two large hands on her bare hips, finger the straps of her thong which disappeared into the oh-so-very-low rim of her jeans, and hold her in a sensual grind.

By twelve-thirty the place was always filled to capacity, with hundreds of the young and restless working their bodies into a heated fervour under the black lighting, which illuminated white bras and panties from beneath black tops and sheer skirts. I arrived at 12:45, wearing a short silver skirt that sat low on my hips and a lacy white tank top which made my supple breasts glow. I'm a small girl for being nineteen, only about 5'3", so I also donned some silver stilettos – murder on the knees, but pleasing to the eye. The Piranha is where girls go to get looked at (but never touched, they claim) and men go to stare at them. This is why I left my deep brown hair, which reaches my waist, completely down in a sultry fashion – against my better judgment, because in high temperatures it gets quite hot. Jenna, my token tall/blonde/perfect lesbian companion, was the only friend who felt like coming after the evening of drinking. She was already wasted; I was sober enough to form coherent sentences but walking was getting a little complex. Vodka shots are funny that way.

Entering the Piranha always gives me a little adrenaline rush, so Jenna and I immediately made our way to the long, narrow dance floor, pushing and shoving younger/stupider/clumsier girls out of our way, settling in the middle of the crush of bodies. The first thing to do is get yourself noticed, to establish yourself as the hottest in the room, to make the men look. We positioned ourselves facing each other, legs interlocked, and as a fast hip-hop beat exploded in the room, we began to grind. Jenna lowered herself, arched her back, and drew her body up to rub her breasts against mine, and I leaned forward, tongue out, and we began a lengthy kiss while dancing. It was a matter of seconds before a crowd gathered, the men started to cheer, the girls looked disgusted and annoyed, and Jenna's hand slipped up my shirt to play with my nipple. "Hey!" I gasped into her mouth, and yanked her hand from under my shirt. Kissing and grinding is all fun and games, but sexual play is strictly forbidden on my grounds; she knows that.

"What's your problem?" Jenna mumbled, and her breath smelled like hard whisky.

"Jenna," I hissed urgently, "We're supposed to get noticed, not start a fucking porno!"

"Come on," Jenna said, giggling suddenly, "You want it, you like it." She reached for me again, and I slapped her hand away. "You know how I feel about this!" I snapped.

Jenna has a history of being an exhibitionist, and I often suspect that her overt lesbian encounters are little but a cry for men's attention. I, however, while being far from shy or introverted, like to be classy. I like good dinners, nights at the theatre, fancy evening gowns, and private romance. I'm not the girl in spiked heels, black fishnet stockings and studded with piercings – I'm demure. Jenna, with her wild tongue and straying fingers, is quite the opposite. But in a crowd of girls willing to humiliate themselves in front of everyone's eyes, I pride myself on playing it cool and modest.

The crowd booed, Jenna's drunken blue eyes leaked tears of anger and embarrassment. "Fuck, loosen up!" she slurred and disappeared into the crowd.

I was alone, but after that tempting show it wasn't for long, and I had to repeatedly fend off unwanted (but flattering, of course) uglier admirers who pressed their small groins against my backside. Worse yet, the vodka was kicking in and my attempts to dance had devolved into desperate attempts to stay standing and not be trampled by the dense crowd pushing into the floor. The 1am rush had begun; and soon there was no room to turn around, let alone steady myself. All I could feel was the heat and skin of bodies surrounding me, swaying against me, and the smell of sweat and cologne. The music became a mindless blur of beats pulsating through my body, I was oblivious to hands that grabbed at my ass, frisked my breasts, teased my hair, although each time I frantically tried to push them away.

The room was so dark, damp with hundreds of tightened bodies, and it was impossible for me to leave the floor. Images before me stuck in my mind; an unshaven white guy with a drunk girl up against a pillar sliding a hand in and out of her exposed panties, her skirt up around her waist, Jenna standing on the small stage topless as a beautiful rail-thin Hispanic girl licked her nipples – oh, security was coming to drag them out (not, of course, without a little private show for themselves first) – and couples everywhere grinding, sinking, raising in beat with the music. A breakdancer toppled into a table of beer bottles, glasses smashed, nobody noticed.

I was feeling intoxicated, confused, faint, when two hands firmly circled my waist and a male body pressed against my back. "No," I said softly, but my voice was easily drowned out by the blaring music. I shook my head vigorously, which only got my hair in my face and blanketed my vision more. With one finger he pulled my hair away from my eyes, and I was momentarily grateful until I felt his hot breath blowing into my left ear, and his tongue crawled out and licked it. I shivered and tried to push him away, but to no avail – he was insistent. Helplessly I watched as his hands guided my hips slowly down, then up, holding my ass firmly against his pelvis. Soon we were moving together, coordinated, mindlessly. His hands on my stomach gently raised the fabric of my tank top and slipped under, stroking me up and down, getting a little higher each time, until his hands rested under each wet, hot breast. My humiliation was dimmed by the heaviness of the alcohol, but not enough for me to stop fighting. With two hands I tried to knock his fingers away, but he only lifted his hands higher, directly over my breasts, then pinched and flicked my stiffened nipples. I gave up in despair, feeling sick and disgusting at his touch.

The song changed to a slightly slower one, a female singer crooned in the background, and the scene changed from sweaty fast dancing to a slow, lustful grind. Everywhere I saw girls being fondled, open mouths and closed eyes, tongues playing in and out of greedy lips, and the cheers from dancers went silent. There was only the music running through us and the silence of arousal. My partners hands, which fell to my hips, began gently rubbing over my skirt inwards towards my abdomen, inwards and outwards, over and over, getting a little lower each time. His thumbs played with the straps of my thong, pulling them higher and higher, making the fabric tighten and rub against my pussy. The sweat, the moist darkness, the rubbing, was slowly arousing me despite my disgust. By the end of the song, his right hand had dipped low enough on my skirt to rub against the top of my pussy lips, unmistakably pressing inwards to feel my lips part, before quickly retreating to my waist again. My mouth dropped, my pussy dampened, and my heart lurched. Did I want him to stop? Did I want him to touch me there again? Instinctively I shook my head no, almost disbelieving that I was being groped like any other trashy, slutty girl on the dance floor – where everyone could watch me.

My mind was spinning, but for the next minute he remained conservative in his touch. The song changed, and without warning his hand dipped to the top of my pussy lips again, and he pressed my skirt into my pussy – and again retreated. I felt like I was reeling – had he done it on purpose? Perhaps he didn't realize where he was touching. For thirty seconds his hands rested on my stomach again, but when he dipped his right hand low again to stroke me there, it was obvious that he had been doing it intentionally – and I felt like an idiot for waiting and wondering, when I could have stopped him with my own hands had I wanted to. Now I had inadvertently invited him to touch me more.

A new flood of dancers came into the room, pushing us even closer, his hands finally rested on my skirt directly over the top of my pussy lips, where he began to rub me regularly. Directly in front of us was another couple, the medium-sized girl with short, bright pink hair facing me and the guy – very tall, dark, wearing a red bandanna, nestled behind her. His hands had pulled her shirt right up, exposing her bra for all to see, and his hands played under it, pulling at her small silver nipple rings. He smiled as he watched me getting fondled, his eyes directly on my crotch and the thin fabric being pressed into it, and then he met my gaze and smiled wickedly. In response to the eye contact, he became even rougher with his girl, squeezing her breasts tightly until she gasped in pain, then reaching one hand directly down the front of her jeans and holding her pussy. The girl was clearly far too drunk to react, and when he pulled his hand out he demonstrated to me her glistening wetness. Then, to my shock, he unzipped his baggy jeans and released a large, alarmingly erect black penis which stood out from his body proudly. I watched in disbelief as he reached around his girl to unzip her jeans, dropping them to the floor. How had no one noticed? She wore no panties, and was completely shaved, and after rubbing the head of penis over her slit, he entered her. I watched her eyes roll back in her head and he penetrated her firmly, thrusting into her until her back arched and her lips shaped themselves into a silent moan.

My drunkenness was wearing off, and as I watched the couple fucking hard in the middle of the dance floor, I became painfully aware of the stranger's hands which caressed me. My disgust and shame had been numbed by the display before me; now all I could feel was unbearably horny and wet as his fingers played with me over my skirt. I starting pressing my ass against him, grinding up against him, to indicate my pleasure and he responded by sinking his right hand even lower, repeatedly pushing my skirt right into my slit. He began doing this using one finger only, sliding the material between my dripping lips, almost reaching my hole, then pulling up while dragging his finger firmly against my clitoris. I was so wet I was certain he could feel me through my thin skirt, and I had just closed my eyes to further enjoy the sensations when his hands and body disappeared from my immediate presence.

For an entire song, it seemed like he had disappeared. I silently moaned to myself in anger that I had been made a fool of, only to be deserted – when suddenly I felt a familiar hand approach me from behind, lift up the back of my skirt, and then cuddle and cup my thong-covered pussy. I moaned loudly, involuntarily, as his fingers raked away my panties and his palm massaged my naked pussy. I grinded against it, rubbing myself on it, when it infuriatingly retreated again – to slather my juices over my stomach, rubbing my wetness into my sweat. His other hand released its fingers on me; his index finger parted my slit and slowly glided up and down, over and over, until I felt myself dripping onto my thighs. Finally he allowed a finger into my hole, and at the same time his right hand pulled down my useless thong where it fell around my ankles. He began busying himself trying to unzip my skirt, while his finger searched inside my pussy for my G-spot. I was so horny I could barely speak, but I knew I didn't want to show my entire naked self to a club of five hundred people. I began to struggle against him.

Again he blew hot breath in my air, and at that moment my skirt dropped – I heard cheers from men around me observing my neatly shaven pussy soaked in sweat and juices – and his finger found my G-spot. He began rubbing it over and over, pressing against it, relentlessly, while his other fingers began to massage and pull at my clitoris. The pleasure was unbearable, and he had succeeded in preventing me from resisting or trying to pull up my skirt. I could think nothing, say nothing, just pant in desire as his fingers rubbed me into electric heat. Several couples around me had stopped dancing, and stood quietly watching me, a trashy naked girl, being stroked towards orgasm by a complete stranger. I met their eyes in lust and shame, and felt my body building towards climax. Several seconds before my body exploded, however, his hands suddenly left my body. "No…" I gasped weakly, falling forward. He quickly caught me and pulled me back up, and I felt something quite different – he had unzipped his pants, and pressing into my spine was a very hard, large dick. Without a word I turned around to face him, to look into the eyes of my captor who was causing me so much humiliation and pleasure.

Before I could look up, however, he had lifted me up and shoved my back against a pillar. I cried out in pain, my legs intuitively spreading around his waist and my arms around his neck to keep from being dropped to the floor. I felt my wet pussy glide against his firm stomach, and when he moved to adjust me I felt the tip of his penis run between my pussy lips. He teased me like this for half a song, holding me up and letting the head of his dick finger me, before finally entering me. We both moaned loudly as he entered, and he began to thrust into and out of me painfully slowly. "Faster," I whispered, but to no avail. "Faster!" I finally screamed, and cheers broke out in the room. He instantly went faster, his balls slapping my ass, his penis rubbing the inner walls of my pussy over and over, deep inside me, driving me to the climax I desperately needed. I felt him jerk, and warm semen filled me, overflowing and dripping out of me. The sensation was the last straw, and my pussy began to spasm and throb in powerful orgasm. My pussy gripped his rod firmly, rippling around it, and finally we both sank to the floor in exhaustion.