We walked around the venue, hand in hand, looking for a band that suited our dancing intentions. I must admit, I felt a bit like the dag alongside the princess. My light, linen, loose, hippie style pants and t shirt in no way matched the cocktail style mini dress she had on.
Just walking alongside her was a privilege in itself. She might have started the day in hippie like clothes like mine; ones that flattered her but didn't really put her on display, but -- to my mind anyway -- I felt like I was accompanying a supermodel. And the way she attracted the male gaze suggested I wasn't alone in that opinion.
Kylie had a beautiful face and friendly countenance, which was obvious whatever she was wearing; highlighted by her lovely long flowing blonde hair.
But now, her body conforming dress displayed every womanly curve on her tall, slender body and highlighted her breasts that were larger than one might expect for one so slender. The shortness of her dress -- only barely covering her crotch, unless you're sitting on the ground like a lot of attendees, in which case her panties would be flashed at you -- displayed her gorgeously long legs. And the very low slung neckline gave a cleavage display enough to drive any man to cross legged frustration; more so because, being braless in a stretchy dress, her nipples were very prominent just under the neck hem of the dress.
Even as she walked past and away from them, they had the cock teasing sight of the back of her dress being seductively drawn into her bum crack by static -- or whatever -- displaying the fantastic curve of her bottom.
I wondered, with her attracting so much attention, how she really thought we be able to fuck to the music as she wanted us to. And I don't mean lying on the bed in my camper, banging her in time to the music like we did earlier. I mean standing among the audience, many of them passively sitting and just listening, their eyes at crotch level, while we dance to the music with my manhood embedded in her sex. It's going to have to be pretty dark before we try that one; however much the thought of having yet more sex with her might be attractive.
On one of the secondary stages we found a band we liked and joined the small group of 'dancers' down the back of the audience.
For me, it was like dancing with a goddess; a highly sexualised goddess.
I loved the dancing. It had been ages since I'd managed to find a venue that offered the opportunity to dance that I was sharing with Kylie. But that did nothing to supress the sex obsessed male in me. As I spun her out into a turn, then spun her back again, my eyes were transfixed on her body; all of it. Her beautiful smile, her long hair flying out as she turned, her breasts moving about inside her dress and threatening to escape as their inertia and momentum lagged the rest of her body, the womanly curve of her hips, her taut, flat stomach leading down to her delightful mons bulge, highlighted by the same static clinging that drew the back of her dress into her bum crack and her long, sexy legs.
As she came back against me, there was a soft, malleable, feminineness to her embrace. One that seemed to meld our bodies' seamlessly together in a way I couldn't recall ever feeling before with any other woman.
She was provoking in me into a bottomless pit of desire, regardless of how much sex we'd already shared that day. I would have been overcome by guilt had it not been for the fact I knew her hormones were running just as rampant as mine.
As we came together, her nipples would be brushed across my chest, raising them to a high beam display with her tight dress. And then she'd bring her leg between mine, letting her brush her crotch on my upper thigh. What started as a light brush became more of a grind as the evening went on; one that was clearly intended to stimulate her clit. One which was clearly working, given how wet her crotch felt and the damp stains she was leaving on the upper right leg of my pants.
Our dancing had reached the staff party stage in the movie "Dirty Dancing". It was truly dirty dancing; at least if you think of sexualised dancing as being dirty. Kylie knew how to flaunt it too; able to put on an attractive dance display with her upper body as her lower self clearly ground her sexual organs against me
The real extent of her arousal and her carnal intent became clear when, as she ground her crotch on my thigh, I signalled her to spin into a turn as I had so many times before. Instead she ignored the lead, grasped me ever more tightly, momentarily bore down even harder on my thigh and then her thighs squeezed mine crushingly tightly as she held me in an iron grip through the period of her orgasm.
She looked up at me with a cheeky grin; clearly pleased with the result...
"Sometimes the woman doesn't want to follow her partner's lead. Do you want me to get you to jizz your pants too?"
I smiled at her; somewhere between benevolently and patronisingly
"No thank you. I'm good for now."
The fact was, I was struggling just not to grow a full boner. I would have been as obvious as hell in the pants I had on and I knew once I grew one, Kylie would grind against it. I'd managed to keep it at a mere thickening and filling of a cock that hung heavily in my pants; making me look more well hung than aroused. But it was a battle.
Concentrating on the dancing and using a lot of energy had helped; notwithstanding my randiness and Kylie's seductive appearance.
As dusk settled, I suggested to Kylie...
"How about we get a drink?"
Kylie was ready for some refreshment, so we retired to a bar tent, me having a beer while Kylie ordered a white wine. Any seating was taken, so we had the options of sitting on the ground or standing. Both presented me with some problems. While definitely needing refreshment and a break, the suggestion of getting a drink had been partly triggered by Kylie's increasing sexual randiness. She was apparently completely unperturbed by copulating in public view before it was dark enough to provide some cover. I had the sense my erection was going to be pulled out of my pants and placed into her vagina in amongst a whole lot of people sitting around on the ground well before the cover of darkness offered us some prospect of not getting kicked out for a public indecency.
Don't get me wrong. There was some connection between us that drew us together like moths to a flame. I was completely in her thrall as she seemed to be in mine; both sexually and emotionally and in both cases to an extent I'd never felt in my life before. I was dealing with a whole new experience; one I had no map for dealing with. In this case, it was just that I seemed to have this tiny additional degree of conscience over what Kylie had. Her boundaries deviated just a bit from mine and I was just trying to give them time to realign.
But the problems as we initially stood, having a drink weren't really her fault. They were mine; or at least due to my weakness.
No longer distracted by actually dancing, nor having my libido drained by it, I was now standing next to the most stunning, sexually desirable, hot woman I'd ever met, dressed in a mini sheath dress that displayed her figure to its absolute, provocative best. And while I suppose I've had opportunities to stare at (as subtly as I could) really attractive women before, somehow it's different when you know her body is available for your fucking.
