Gilly goes to the dance
This story is pure fiction -- all participants of anything remotely sexual are over 18 years of age. Gilly's Mother banned her from associating with 'boys' until she was eighteen. For her eighteenth birthday her Mother gave her a sex manual, a dildo and a clit tickler together with a great deal of useful advice.
I now looked forward to Friday with a mixture of excitement and some trepidation. Mum had spent a lot of money on clothes for me. What did concern me was not what might happen but what might NOT happen. I'd hate to come home only to report that I'd danced with John all night.
John was Jen's little Brother. Jen was my best friend. John is two years younger than Jen and I. He loved to dance as much as I did and attended the same dance school that I had. My attendance being from the age of five and was curtailed when boys being close and holding me closer caused me to think of much more exciting things than the rhythm of the music and what me feet were doing.
But with John there I could at least dance properly, if nothing else.
Friday 7pm -- I was wearing my red undies with matching skirt, top and shoes. I kissed Mum goodbye and walked down the driveway to the road feeling pretty, sexy and ready for anything and everything. My Mum's 'Enjoy yourself! Have a wonderful time. Be home by 11!' rang in my ears.
'Be home by 11?' The dance finished at 10pm and I lived only ten minutes easy walk from school. I remembered what she'd said when I was trying on my new undies; 'If a man is being allowed to see a ladies undies they might as well be worth seeing'. She'd essentially dressed me sexily and sent me off to the dance with the full understanding, if not hope, that I'd get 'laid' as she'd described in one of our long discussion sessions.
There was a bounce in my step as I walked towards Jen and her brother waiting on the corner of her road and mine.
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I was enjoying myself. Dancing with my friends in a bit of a group and when proper dance music started John appeared and I waltzed, quick-stepped or foxtrotted around the gym gaily. It was about 8 o'clock, I was dancing with my friends when the music changed to ballroom. I felt a tap on my shoulder. Thinking it was John I turned eagerly into his arms. It wasn't John but one of the Upper 6th boys that constantly caused me troubled nights. He whisked me away in the most fancy quickstep you can imagine before I had any time to react. I had to quickly brush off my dancing cobwebs to keep up with him. I didn't know his name but he knew mine and introduced himself as he dazzled me with his footwork. Roger, like me, loved to dance. We had two fantastic dances one after the other and I was still in his arms waiting for the next when his friend, another cause of many enjoyable thoughts, tapped his shoulder and asked politely if he could 'cut in'. Roger didn't hesitate, he handed me to his friend with a cheerful;
"She's a fabulous mover! Don't let her escape! I want more of her tonight."
My heart fluttered at the words.
Paul danced me off my feet! Absolutely fantastic. Two dances and the mood changed to Jive. I danced with both of them as they swung me about between themselves effortlessly. I didn't stop. I didn't want to stop either. The music changed, Viennese Waltz, away I went in Roger's arms only to be followed by a complete change to Cha Cha Cha where I had one on each side of me. Tricky but fun. Paul, Roger, Roger, Paul. They swapped and changed, my head spun and I was on cloud nine.
The music changed again. A slow one where everybody just sort of shuffled about a bit. I was in Roger's arms looking up into his handsome, smiling face. I rested my head on his shoulder he rested his cheek on the top of my head. I felt his hand on the small of my back, on my bare flesh. It felt good. I smiled up at him. His hand moved upwards. In the blink of an eye my bra was undone. I made no complaint, just smiled contentedly and snuggled into his shoulder.
"Take it off," he whispered.
"I can't," I whispered back half heartedly.
"Yes you can," he chuckled and slid one strap down into the baggy sleeve of my shirt, "now pull your hand up,"
I did and we repeated the trick with the other strap.
"Now pull it out the front, scrunch it up and put it in my pocket."
I did and we smooched for a few more minutes with my firm, unfettered Girls rubbing against his strong, manly chest. My nipples became painfully hard and there is no way he couldn't notice. With the slow movement of the dance his cock was grinding against my thigh, high up. I wriggled surreptitiously trying to reposition it without him noticing. He smiled down at me and leaned into my ear.
"Now take off your panties!"
I should have said 'no' there and then, I didn't.
"I can't," I replied before utterly spoiling my 'little miss goody two shoes' reputation, by adding, "not here."
He steered us expertly over into the corner of the dance floor.
"Get your bag," he instructed.
My panties would have been drenched if it wasn't for the folded tissues inside them. He led me down the stairs to the ground floor where the toilets and showers were. He walked me passed them all to the end of the corridor where the caretakers store was. Roger stopped me, lifted my skirt high to my waist. I held it for him making absolutely no attempt to prevent him sliding my sexy red panties down my legs and off. He lifted them to his nose and inhaled deeply before scrunching them up and putting them in his pocket with my matching bra.
"You won't need this for now," he said sliding his hand back up my inner thigh and removing the little wet pad that had stuck to my cunny lips.
Again he raised it to his nose and inhaled my private scent.
"Your wet cunny smells delicious," he whispered as he pressed his tongue into the tissue pad, "and you taste divine."
