This happened a few years ago when I was in college. I'd gotten a new tattoo and there was a gig happening later in the evening that I really wanted to attend. My tattoo artist saran wrapped my arm and said I'm good to go as long as I avoid any intense contact and alcohol. Sounds good!
So I reach the club nice and early and the bouncer refuses to let me in saying it's couples only. I tell him I'm willing to pay for a solo ticket and that I've been looking forward to seeing this artist for a while. He doesn't budge. So that's how he wants to play it. I casually walk away and find the first group of girls walking towards the club. Now, I'm not what people would stereotypically call attractive, but I'm quite tall, with broad shoulders and long curls that cascade all over them. Along with my deep, husky voice and smooth oratory skills, I clean up quite well!
I approach the group of girls and tell them of my predicament. One of the girls immediately tells me that she'll be my plus one. I thank her and we head towards the club entrance. As luck would have it, the bouncer immediately recognises me and stops us (I've been told that I'm hard to miss in a crowd). He reminds me that he just denied me entry. Before I can get a word in, my enthusiastic plus-one shoots him down explaining how I was waiting for her to turn up. He apologies sheepishly to her as I give him my broadest grin and a wink for good measure.
Now we're in the club and the opening act is still doing a sound check. I fawn over my new date, animatedly telling her how badass she looked dishing out attitude at the gates. She has a good laugh and takes me by the hand, guiding me straight to the bar. "So now that you're my date for the night, are you gonna buy me a drink? Where are our cover slips?", she asks. I fish them outta my pockets and order drinks. Gin n tonic for the lady and a ginger ale for me since drinking after a tattoo is taboo.
My date, let's call her Erica, is a great conversationalist and boldly flirtatious. Between the occasional hair toss and the witty one liners, she has me floored. She's about five-foot-five, with long straight hair, a petite frame and a dancer's grace in her movements. She's wearing a short skirt and a long jacket and when I hum the song by Cake, she even recognises it!
Things are just getting interesting with Erica when suddenly her friends who separated from her earlier during my entrance fiasco appear in a whirlwind and whisk her away in a flurry of giggles and half-assed apologies. Erica tells me that she promised the girls her undivided attention that night but before leaving, borrows a pen from the bartender, scribbles her number on my left hand about two inches under my fresh tattoo along with an 'xoxo', blows on it to dry the ink, and gives me a peck on the cheek. The opening act is just getting started and already my night is made. But boy was I unprepared for the bizarre twist of fate that was about to follow!
I dissolved into the crowd to get into the groove but being completely sober, the groove was hard to find. So I snuck away to a corner of the venue that was quite isolated and rolled myself a slim joint. "I hope you're not planning on lighting that here," a voice said and made me jump. I turn around to see a girl in her mid twenties, cute in a geeky sorta way, with big rimmed glasses and a bosom so ample, you couldn't ignore it even if you tried!
"Not unless you want me to," I shoot back, playing it cool.
"Ummm I'm the manager here and I'm afraid I don't partake on the job. And you can't light that here," she replies flippantly.
"Alright. I'll save it and after you're done with your shift, we'll share it."
She's taken aback by the confidence and can't hold back a laugh. Suddenly, she (let's call her Stacy) grabs my arm and yanks it toward her to get a better look. "That's really something. Did you get that today?", she asks, appreciating my tattoo. I tell her I got it just before getting there and she tells me she's been dying to get her first but just can't lock down a design.
She then notices the phone number scribbled on my arm and with what sounds like a jealous tone, asks me who left that there. I tell her about all the stunts I had to pull to get in. She can't help but chuckle and admits that she's not a fan of the 'couples only' rule either. Then, she pulls out a pen from her pocket, grabs my arm, strikes off Erica's number and writes hers underneath. I'm staring open-mouthed, not quite understanding what was going on here.
I hang back for a while and light a cigarette. After making sure the coast is clear, I light the spliff too and have my fill before putting it out. That gets the groove on and I hit the floor. The gig was great and despite my best efforts I'm unable to find Erica (I wanted her number again since I found her way more attractive than Stacy).
Just as I'm about to leave, Stacy asks me to wait for a bit and says we could go back to her place and share the spliff while "discussing tattoo ideas." Why not, I think to myself.We reach Stacy's place and I realise she's already slightly tipsy. She pours another drink for herself while I stick to water and weed! After some gratuitous flirting, we're on the couch kissing. She's a good kisser. She has soft plush lips and occasionally nibbles on my lips which gets me hard.
Just as a few buttons come off, the doorbell rings. Boy my luck is all over the place tonight I think, cursing under my breath and buttoning up. Steph opens the door and two drunk friends in their late twenties barge in. One is a pasty and obnoxious white boy. He's accompanied by a petite Indian girl in a skirt so short, it ended even before it began. Let's call her Cinnamon for now (you'll know why in a bit). When she bent down to do her shoes, I catch a glimpse of her bright red lacy underwear. Steph makes introductions and pours more drinks. Before I know it, we're playing a game of Taboo. Midway through the game, the bell rings again and now we're joined by three more people- two girls that look like twins and a hippie-like dude in a tie-dye t shirt. There goes my night I think to myself, switching gears to after-party mode.
After several joints and lots more drinks, I find myself supremely stoned and in my happy place. Everyone is strunk by this point. I've given up on any possibilities of sex and am satisfied with catching the occasional upskirt, courtesy of Cinnamon. She has nice features. Slim legs and firm thighs, a small but firm ass that looked delicious in the tiny tight skirt and perky nipples that keep poking out from behind her flimsy halter neck top.
I'm tuned out and staring at her pretty red panties when suddenly she catches my eye. I panic and look away. When I turn back, I notice that she is now sitting with her legs spread just wide enough to give me a clear view. She has an evil smile forming at the corner of her lips. I lock eyes with her. She gives me a "come fuck me" look, narrowing her eyes and slightly wetting her lips with her tongue.
I also realise that Stacy and the pasty white boy are nowhere to be seen. Oh well, third time's the charm I think to myself. I scoot over to Cinnamon, bend down to get within earshot and over the music, say in her ears: "are they expensive or can I rip them off you with my teeth?"
She stares back wide eyed for a second, trying to process what I just said. Then pulls me by the collar and loudly screams in my ear, "I'll let you rip them off if you eat what's inside.
"Boom! I'm back in. Cinnamon gets up, adjusts her skirt and takes me upstairs and into a bathroom. She clearly knows the place better than I do. We step inside and she locks the door. She jumps onto me and starts going at it pretty hard. I hoist her up and set her down on the counter by the sink. She hitches her skirt up and shows me what I've been eyeing all night. "Go ahead. Rip em off," she says.
I get on my knees and use my hands to hold her legs wide apart. With my teeth, I carefully bite onto her panties and give a tug before letting it snap back into place. A little teasing never hurts. She gasps softly and giggles. Then, I pull out my special move. Without taking her panties off, I place my lips on her crotch and steadily blow warm air, all the while increasing the pressure gently with my lips. She's caught completely off guard and quivers in ecstasy. I take my hand and place it on her small breasts, cupping both together with just one hand. I squeeze gently and simultaneously flick my tongue out to give a firm love tap straight on her clit. She still has her panties on, remember. Her back arches sharply and she pushes my head away with a jolt.
"What the fuck was that? You're a fucking gash hound," she gasps, short of breath. That makes me laugh.
