The moment nineteen-year-old Gemma stepped onto the stage, Sharon and I exchanged a knowing glance after seeing her in rehearsals while picking up my niece. The music swelled, her voice filled the theatre, and every movement of her body was a seduction as she danced. With a sunkiss tan she owned the space, commanded it. Her sleeveless, skintight, silver minidress, with a cut out that teased her cleavage and knee-high-boots stirred my cock. The moment she locked eyes with us in the audience--just for a fleeting second--I knew the night wouldn't end when the curtains fell.
Sharon, wearing a black low cut dress and heels leaned into me, her fingers grazing my wrist. "She's so mesmerizing," she whispered.
I smirked. "Those braces are cute. Her blond and silver shoulder length curls... She is a lot shorter than you... Just wait until we have her all to ourselves."
After the final bow and applause, we made our way tipsy on champagne backstage. This wasn't a chance meeting--we had arranged this moment in advance. Gemma's dressing room door was slightly ajar, an invitation in itself. When I pushed it open, she was waiting, still wrapped up in her mini dress and matching boots, her makeup slightly smudged, eyes dark with unspoken intent.
"You enjoyed the show?" she asked, her bright lips curving into a slow smile.
"You already know the answer," I said, stepping forward my sticky cock bulging, dying to escape my trousers.
She let Sharon touch her first--delicate at first, a hand sliding along Gemma's stage make-up jaw, a slow, deliberate kiss that deepened as Gemma melted into it. Sharon's tongue weaved carefully across the girl's fixed braces.
I stood there, watching, taking in the way Sharon's fingers skimmed over Gemma's hugging dress, her finger going in the gap on her chest, just enough to tease at the perfect skin beneath.
I reached for them both, my hands firm as I pulled them against me. Gemma gasped slightly, caught between us, her head tilting back as Sharon pressed her lips to her throat.
"Let's take this home," I murmured.
"Where the real performance can begin?" sneered Sharon.
Gemma exhaled, her hands sliding down my chest. "Lead the way."
The drive home was electric--Gemma sat in the backseat, her dress hugging her ample firm young tits, exposing just enough skin to keep Sharon shifting beside me. The anticipation between us was thick, unspoken but understood. I made a mental note to jizz over her smooth shimmering go-go boot if I ever got the chance. By the time we reached our apartment, the air felt charged, humming with possibility.
As I closed the door behind us, Gemma turned to face me. Her hands slid up my chest, red manicure nails lightly scraping the fabric of my shirt.
"You watched me all night," murmured the nineteen-year-old.
I smirked. "And now I get to touch."
