Overdrive

Overdrive pt. 1

It's been a long time since I've gone out to a club. I'm not one for parties and drinking, and using my fake ID always makes me nervous, but today marks my second year being single on Valentine's Day, so I think

fuck it

and go digging in my closet for something to wear. My roommates are out with their boyfriends, and I think it's time to treat myself.

I end up picking out a satin dress. It's a champagne color and falls to my mid-thigh, with thin straps and a low neckline. The dress might be a touch too promiscuous, but I'm feeling daring. I wear a nude thong underneath it and forgo wearing a bra, liking how my hard nipples look under the silky fabric. I pair it with my black heels and silver earrings. My red hair is left natural - wild and curly - and my makeup is minimal, just a slight shimmer on the eyes and cheekbones.

On the subway, I garner a few curious glances. I perk out my butt a little, where I stand gripping one of the metal poles to keep my balance and squeeze my arms slightly together, showing off my cleavage. The attention feels good, and I even feel a wet spot start to form in my panties, my pussy leaking as strangers' eyes drag across my body.

It doesn't take long to get into the club, despite it being Valentine's Day. The bouncer hesitates when I hand him my ID, his eyes wandering between it and my face, but I pull my dress down a little further, the tops of my nipples peeking out over the shimmering fabric, and he lets me in. Once inside, I head immediately to the bar, knowing I'll need a drink if I want to build up the courage to join the thrum of bodies grinding against each other under the strobing lights.

After waving down the bartender, I order a Cosmopolitan and guzzle it down. I haven't eaten since lunch, and I feel the alcohol almost immediately go to my head. I quickly order a shot of vodka after that and throw it back as well. There's a vent blowing cold air over the bar, and I feel my nipples perk up, so obvious under my thin dress. I get the urge to touch them but don't want to look desperate.

Instead, I slide off of the bar stool and head into the crowd, allowing myself to just

feel.

Heavy bass from the music makes the floor rumble, and the heat is sweltering compared to the bar. Most people hardly glance at me as I squeeze past, looking for someone to dance with, though I feel hands graze my ass once or twice. I've never been to a club alone before, and normally I'd be too shy to dance with strangers, but something about tonight is different. The dress, the strangers on the subway, the wetness between my legs...I feel bold. I want to let loose and have some fun. And the alcohol is doing its job, so when I notice you--talking to another man and hardly dancing--I daringly slip between the two of you.

"Well, hello," your companion says, the one I'm facing. He's probably close to my age, with dark hair and a well-kept beard. He smiles at me, and I watch his eyes drift down to my tits. He can probably see right down my dress.

"Hi," I giggle, pressing my ass back as I drape my arms over his shoulders. My ass connects with your groin, and I feel you take a step even closer, nearly sandwiching me between the two of you. "Wanna dance with me?" I ask.

"We'd love to, baby," you whisper in my ear, making me shudder.

You're a bit older than the other man, and I didn't get a good look at you, but I know you're handsome. I relish in the feeling of your hands grazing my thighs and waist as I grind back on you. The younger man gives in and fondles my breasts as I sway, and when I tilt my head back to rest it on your shoulder, he licks a stripe up my neck. I swear I can feel a trickle of slick run down my thigh, soaking through my panties.

"You're a naughty little thing, aren't you?" you groan, pressing your half-hardened cock between my ass cheeks through my dress.

A little moan escapes my lips as I nod, and the other man takes the opportunity to fuck his tongue into my open mouth.

Beneath the haze of alcohol, I can hardly believe the way I'm acting. I've never been like this, but I've also never been single and lonely for so long. I've grown tired of having to fuck myself every night - either on a thick toy, or my fingers, or by grinding on my favorite body pillow - and to feel two men, their hard, sweaty bodies pressing into me, is like heaven.

After a couple of songs, I feel myself losing steam, and you must notice it too. You lean down again and ask, "How about I buy you another drink, sweetheart?"

I give you a bright smile over my shoulder and follow you to the bar. Your companion doesn't follow, instead turning his attention to another woman in a skin-tight black dress.

"What would you like?" you ask, as we slide onto a couple of bar stools.

"Um, how about a vodka cranberry?"

"How sweet," you smirk, waving down the bartender.

After getting our drinks, you ask me about myself. I sip on the cocktail and tell you that I'm a college student and that I just turned 21, even though I just turned 20. I'm studying literature, and I like to read in my free time.

"What is a smart girl like you doing here, talking to me?" you ask.

I shrug. "Needed a change of pace, I guess. And I was a little jealous that my roommates are out with their boyfriends tonight."

"Oh? You don't have a boyfriend then?"

I laugh, shaking my head and adjusting in my seat. Your eyes dart down to my thighs, where my dress has ridden up, as I uncross my legs and lean forward a bit. "No, I haven't for a long time."

"That's a shame," you say, leaning forward also. "So nobody has been kissing those pretty lips of yours."

"Your friend just was."

"Well, I think it's my turn now," you say.

I lean into your kiss with open lips, letting your tongue explore my mouth. It's hot and wet, and I rub my wet cunt on the barstool at the feeling, wishing I'd at least worn a plug in my ass tonight. I felt so incredibly empty.

"Daddy," I murmur as you pull back, stroking a hand up my thigh, fingertips grazing under the hem of my dress, so close to my soaked thong.

"Aw, what a sweet little whore," you say, your voice like syrup, as your hand keeps moving toward my pussy.

When I feel a fingertip brush against the wet fabric over my slit, I inhale a sharp breath and scoot back a bit, suddenly unsure. It feels good, but I don't know if I want to get fingered at the bar.

"Sorry," I say, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Um, I guess I'm getting carried away."

"Don't worry, doll," you say. "Just finish your drink."

I nod and drain the rest of my vodka cranberry. It's tart and refreshing and helps to ground me a bit, as much as an alcoholic drink can.

Your hand is still on my leg, but it's resting on my knee now, and I wonder if you'll ask me to go home with you. I wonder if I would say yes. It seems risky, but I've never been so desperate for cock in my life, and I know I'll be disappointed if I go home and have to ride a silicone dildo. I want something hot and throbbing inside of me. I want someone else to do the work, to pin me down and fuck me senseless. I want to feel cum dripping out of me. I want... I want...

"Why don't we go somewhere a little more private, hm?" you ask, thumbing at my knee. "I think I saw a few open booths on the other side of the dance floor."

I nod a little shyly and follow as you lead me to a circular booth in one of the dark corners of the club. The lighting in this area is dimmer, more red from the LED mood lighting. The flashing strobes from the dance floor don't quite reach this area.

We've barely settled in before you manage to flag down a busser. You slide a few bills into the boy's hand and say something to him, but I can't hear your voice over the music. Once the boy scurries off, you pull me closer to you, until we're sitting thigh to thigh and your hand rests at my waist.

"How's this, baby girl?" you whisper in my ear. "Nobody's going to notice if I touch you here."

A shaky sigh rattles out of my chest when I feel your other hand trail up my thigh and under the edge of my dress again. Your fingertips immediately find the wet patch on my panties and press firmly against it. I jolt a little at the feeling, whimpering as quietly as I can.

"F-feels good, Daddy," I murmur. My face and pussy both feel like they're on fire as you rub me, a smirk on your face.

The busser returns, but if he notices your hand up my dress, he doesn't say anything. He sets two drinks down on the table and gives you a quick nod before leaving again. One of the drinks looks like whisky, maybe an Old Fashioned, and the other is tall and pink, clearly meant for me.

"Go on, take a drink," you say, grazing my clit.

I nod and pick up the drink, wrapping my lips carefully around the straw. My hands are shaking enough that I'm scared of spilling, and I nearly do spill when I take a sip and feel your finger pressing into my cunt through my underwear. The drink is sweet and bright on my tongue, and I keep sipping at it to stop myself from moaning as you finger me shallowly, as much as the fabric allows you to, ruining my panties.

"Good girl," you say. "I think you deserve a reward."

I feel you move my panties to the side, and the next time your finger pushes inside of me it's bare and goes so much deeper.

"Ah!" I can't help but cry out at the feeling, but the sound is swallowed by the music.

You breathe out a laugh and retract your hand, instead reaching for your own drink. As you sip at it, I can't help but squirm, missing the feeling of your finger inside of me. When I reach one of my own hands down, determined to rub at my sloppy pussy, you grab my arm to stop me.

"So desperate," you chide, clicking your tongue. "Little sluts like you have to be patient to get what they want."

I swallowed thickly, feeling my cunt pulse, and nodded.

"What is it that you want?" you ask, leaning closer. Your cologne is intoxicating, as is the whiskey on your breath.

"Want you to fuck me," I murmured, too quiet to be heard over the music.

"Speak up," you snap, grabbing my face to make me look at you, fingers biting into my jaw. I feel drool pooling in my mouth and on the leather of the booth beneath me.

"I want you to fuck me," I say, louder, clearer.

"Hmm," you turn my face from side to side, looking at me, and I don't take my eyes off of yours, heavily-lidded with intoxication. I've had enough to drink at this point that the club is swimming around me, and every brush of cool air against my skin makes me feel like I'm going to explode. "You have to prove you're a good girl for me, first. You think I don't know you're not 21?"

I try to pull back, but you hold my face tighter. It's almost painful, but it only makes me moan.

"Don't worry, baby," you say. "I'll keep your secret. But you'll have to work for it."

I nod, unable to speak with the way you're holding my face.

"Good girl. I'll play with your little cunt after you've sucked daddy's cock, okay?"

I nod again and slide under the table, willing to do nearly anything at this point. Anything to feel your cock split me open.

As I unzip your dress pants, you reach forward and pull down the front of my dress, exposing my tits. The cool air hits them, my nipples almost painfully hard, and you grope me as I struggle to undo your pants, soft whines leaving my throat.

Your cock is so hard when I finally pull you out, the tip wet and flushed. I suddenly want it in my throat, want to choke on it until I can't breathe and all I know is your cock.

I lick a hurried stripe from the root to the tip, my tongue flat and wet against your heated skin. My thighs squeeze together at the low, pleased sound you make, and I waste no more time and take your cock into my wet, hot mouth.

"Good girl," you groan, fingers threading into my hair. You grip it tight, pulling hard as I take your thick cock into my throat, nearly gagging.

My eyes roll back in my head at the feeling, my throat stretching, straining to accommodate you. I bob up and down, uncaring if anyone knows what I'm doing to you under the table, loving the feeling of my tits bouncing with how enthusiastically I'm sucking you off. You smell like soap, skin, and sweat and taste like ambrosia, precum dripping down my throat in a thick slide.

"You really are a whore, aren't you?" you laugh, tugging at my hair again. I look up at you through wet eyelashes, tears streaking down my cheeks. "You suck cock like a whore."

I try to nod, but you grip my hair tighter, causing me to wince, and start forcing me up and down your cock, fucking my throat. I can't help the gagging, choking sounds that come out of my throat or the way my pussy clenches like it's the hole getting wrecked.

"That's enough," you finally growl, pulling me off of your cock. I gasp for breath, coughing a little, and I can feel that my chin is covered in spit, my face flushed and red. I must look completely fucked, on my knees under the table, my tits hanging out of my dress, throat properly fucked. I'm not even sure I can speak.

"Get up here and finish your drink," you order, hand clapping down on the booth beside you. I can still see a sticky spot that I'd left behind.

I start to adjust my dress, but you smack my cheek, just hard enough to get my attention. "No, leave it be. Let everyone see that you're a little tart, desperate for a stranger's cock."

Face aflame, I crawl back into my seat, panties even wetter than before, uncomfortable as I settle against the leather. I can't believe I'm facing the club with my bare tits out and have half a mind to wonder if I could be arrested, but something about the wad of cash you slipped to the busser earlier tells me that I won't.