Before the story starts, just a little heads up that this story has a lot more build than my previous stories. There is plenty of action, but it takes a bit longer to get to it.
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I have never done anything like this before, but I got out of a long term, at least for me, relationship a month ago and going from getting it every day to not getting any has left me horny and frustrated. I have of course been taking good care of myself, but plastic just isn't the same as the real thing.
I have put on a dress that I would normally never be caught in. The only reason I own it is because my ex-boyfriend said he thought I would look super hot in it. So I bought it and then stuck to wearing it at home and even then I didn't get to wear it much since it turns out that what my ex really liked was taking the dress off of me.
So now I am standing outside a club wearing a dress so short that I am sure that if I take a long step, it'll creep up enough that anyone will be able to see my black panties. Another great feature of the dress is that it has an open back, so it really doesn't work with a bra.
The club I have chosen is one I have never been to before. I have chosen it for two reasons. The first, that it is one I would never usually go to, so the chances of running into anyone I know is relatively small. And the second reason is that it is the kind of club where the music is loud, keeping conversation to a minimum and the clientele is the kind that is only interested in one thing. Now I am not judging, I am a big proponent of people doing their thing, as long as no one gets hurt, it just isn't my usual scene.
I walk up to the bouncer. Having done my homework I know that any girl showing a certain amount of skin is let in, no questions asked and no cover charge required. As I walk through the door, the boom of the music strikes me like a hammer to the ears. I kind of regret not wearing ear plugs, but doing so in a place like this would just be advertising that I don't fit in.
At the same time as the music hits me the smell does as well. A mixture of spilled drinks and human fluids, and not just sweat.
Next I notice the heat. The air in the club is hot and stuffy, making me kind of glad I am not wearing more than I am. Of course the cynic in me recognizes that the reason for the heat is exactly that, to encourage the patrons to wear as little as possible.
I deposit my purse in the cloakroom, before walking into the dimly lit main room. Flashing laser lights providing what little light there is on the large dance floor that take up most of the room. I consider going to the bar on the side and getting a drink, but I don't want to get too drunk and I already had two shots at home before leaving to get my courage up.
Looking out over the dance floor I see a great variety of people. I see guys looking out of place in clothes that would fit better in a board room. I see girls wearing long dresses that drag across the floor behind them. I see muscular guys in tight shirts or, in a few cases with no shirt on. I also see girls wearing even less clothes than me, one wearing what is basically a pair of panties and a see-through top. There are also a couple of topless ones moving around.
None of these are however what I am looking for. I am not looking for an overly muscular guy, my type being more regular builds. Now don't get me wrong, I won't say no to a six pack and a tight butt, but I would rather have the runner build than the body builder. I also skip over the guys in business attire.
My gaze briefly stop on two girls embracing while kissing passionately. I think I see the hand of one of them sneak down the front of the skirt of the other. At the same time a number of guys standing near them also notice and my view is quickly obstructed by a group of cheering men, as well as a few women.
I turn away, my eyes landing on a guy standing a bit away, watching with an amused expression that seems to mirror my own feelings at the spectacle. I let my eyes take him in, giving him the good old elevator eyes. There is nothing flashy about his clothes, a simple black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I make note of his arms. He doesn't have bulging muscles, but there is definitely some definition to them.
I find my eyes drawn down to the crotch of his pants, wondering what he is packing down there, though I have no way to tell from here.
Next I move to his face. First noticing his eyes looking my way...looking straight at me. As I meet his eyes he raises his hand and waves at me.
I feel color rise to my cheeks in embarrassment at getting caught checking him out. I refuse to let embarrassment hold me back however, so I keep my eyes on his and raise my hand and wave back.
He walks over to me and hesitate for a moment before simply saying "Hey".
That slight hesitation, perhaps betraying that he is also a bit out of his element, helps me put the remainder of my embarrassment behind me. Rather than giving an answering greeting I lift my hand and let it rest on his upper arm, asking "You wanna dance?"
I can see his throat working as he visibly swallows. "Sure" he says, lifting his arm and putting it around my back, leading me out onto the dance floor.
Once there he stands like he doesn't really know what to do. I however decide to keep taking the initiative and move up close to him and start swaying from side to side in rhythm with the music. Our closeness means that my chest brush against him when I sway and due to my lack of a bra I feel the touch on my nipples through the dress. I feel my nipples start to harden and I wonder whether he will be able to feel them through our clothes.
Despite the fact that we have barely spoke half a dozen words to each other part of me is already wondering how to best get him to invite me back to his place. I am a bit shocked in myself, but just take it as more proof of how much I need to make this happen tonight, so I can get my urges satisfied.
He starts to slowly rock back and forth in that way some guys that don't really feel comfortable dancing does. At the same time, his arms move up around me and I feel his hands spread out onto the naked skin of my back. One hand landing between my shoulder blades, the other one sliding against the skin of my lower back. He gently pulls me closer to him, turning what was before grazing touches into prolonged contact. The closeness also means that more than just my chest comes into contact with him and I feel my bare thighs rub against the rough fabric of his jeans.
After a few moments of dancing like that I also start to feel something else. Something hard poking me. I am a bit shorter than him, so unfortunately it doesn't poke me anywhere interesting, but rather push against my lower belly. Still, it is nice knowing that my closeness is having an effect.
As I feel him getting hard a thought pushes its way into my head. An image of me hoping up and putting my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. I imagine him reaching down and first freeing himself from his jeans and then pushing aside my panties to allow him to slide into me, right there on the dancefloor, with a throng of dancing bodies moving all around us.
The image does interesting things to me and I feel a tingling feeling down there, also helped by the friction against my nipples and thighs.
I am however not so far gone in my lust that I am ready for something like that. It does solidify my desire to have him take me home with him and getting us naked on a bed though.
Noticing the same thing I have, he tries to move his crotch back and break contact, the embarrassment he is clearly feeling edged onto his face.
Not about to let him pull away, I move my hands around him and let them slide down to his butt and pull him towards me, bringing his hardness back up against me.
At this his eyes open wide in surprise. I just look up at him and tilt my mouth in a half smile that I have practiced in the mirror until it looks, as my ex would say, sexy as hell.
In response to this he slides the hand on my upper back up, passing over my neck and taking a gentle hold of my hair. Using his grip he tilts my head slightly to one side and lower his head down, brushing my lips with his.
His kiss is hesitant, as if unsure of his welcome, his lips only making the lightest of contact.
Not satisfied with that I rise up on my toes, allowing me to fully capture his mouth with mine and push my lips against his.
I let my tongue slide out between my lips and let it brush over his lips, silently asking permission for it to be let in.
