dancing at the bar

The base was reverberating through my skin to make my very bones feel the throbbing of the music. My gyrations were matching the pounding of the drums. Arms raised over my head, slowly lowering, one at a time, to touch the mass of curling hair on the top of my head. Fingers splayed wide, they pour over the heavy cascade of golden curls, downwards to my face and neck. They trace the curve of the outside of my breast on their way down my sides. My body is swaying, shoulders rotating and melting from one side to the other.

My face is lifted showing the long expanse of my throat. My long hair is touching the middle of my bare back. I am wearing a pale pink halter camisole that has a beaded matching overlay. The ties dangle from the back of my neck and disappear beneath my hair. The front is a plunging v-neck showing off my large round breasts and my back is entirely exposed. The top of the beads swish like a flappers dress, against the white linen shortie shorts, I am wearing. Heeled white sandals are on my feet, showing the sparkling rose colour polish, against the tanned skin.

The slickness of sweat covers my body in the healthy sheen of vigorous exercise. My large and heavy breasts are barely covered and jiggle enticingly with the music; high firm round globes of beautiful perfectly shaped flesh with large pink and puckered areolas and long nipples taut and pushing against the light material.

My eyes are closed in the ecstasy of enjoying the pounding music filling me up. My hips push and pull, my ass rises and lowers, my thighs tighten and release as my knees bend and straighten. My calves are hard as I move my body around effortlessly and with sensual grace. I am the master of form and function. I am completely abandoned and immersed in the music, I am the epitome of an erotic female. I feel every note and touch every cadence. I am using the beat to pound into my body hard and continuously, dancing song after song; changing the style to match the beat and tempo of the new music selection.

I lower my chin to my chest and look up through my long lashes, hair falling forward to partially cover my face and cling to wet exposed skin. That’s when I see him, sitting on a high bar stool on the other side of the dance floor, facing me. One leg stretched out in front of him, the other propped onto the spool under the chair, his legs spread in casual male relaxation. He was wearing flip flops, a pair a light cream color dockers and a form fitting linen, short sleeved royal blue shirt. God, he was beautiful.

His eyes never left me as I danced under the flashing lights in the darkened room. His attention made me focus instantly in awareness of this delicious male animal who did not try to hide his approval of my dancing. In a large hand, he held a short tumbler glass half full of an amber colored liquid over ice, that he occasionally lifted to his full mouth. He was very attractive and masculine looking with a neatly trimmed goatee and a smooth bald head. He looked intense and athletic with wide shoulders and defined chest. Everything inside of me responded to him instantly.

The music was surging and intense and I allowed it to course through my body and sweep me along in its primitive beats. My nipples were hard as they thrust against the silk of my camisole and I knew they could clearly be seen now; my breasts were obviously unrestrained, their movements a delightful shimmy and bounce. I was a mess of tangled hair and salty skin. I smelled like a musky, sexually charged woman in the throes of erotic abandon. And he loved it. You could see it in the intensity he was staring at me.

As I moved closer to him, dancing now for him alone, my eyes locked with his, I focused all of my sexual energy in my movements. I turned my back to him and looked provocatively over my shoulder. The bare expanse of my back arched and flexed, my wide firm ass circling and grinding above long bare thighs. I tossed my hair to one side before I dropped into a provocative squat, only to use my hands to travel along my legs as I slowly rose up, in the most seductive rendition of sexual awareness I could imagine.

As I rose from my erotic squat and swirled around to face him again, I was close enough that I could now see the clearly defined engorgement of his cock down the left side of his pant leg. It was glorious and huge! My breath seemed to catch in my throat and my eyes widened in surprised, then quickly rose to meet his. His lips curved into a knowing smile of self awareness with no trace of modesty or embarrassment at the fact I had seen evidence of his growing arousal. I looked back down again and I swear it seemed to grow before my very eyes, elongating and thickening into one of the most impressive endowments I had ever laid eyes on.

I danced closer to him; ignoring the people at the tables between us and the heated stares of the other patrons, some approving and some in jealous accusation. I danced for him alone, aroused now by imagining that beautiful erection I could clearly see in the front of his pants. I kept moving closer until I was finally in front of him. Every nuance and pose, every flex of muscle in my tight body was to showcase my own increasing arousal, which was now directly in front of him. I gyrate faster and faster. Every heaving breathe forcing my breasts into a more violent and jarring bounce, as if I was being fucked hard and fast. I feel the slickness build and burst from between my thighs. I feel a torrent of female wetness saturate the crease of my shorts at the juncture of my thighs, soaking through the thin barrier of cotton panties. I move my body and legs to manoeuvre the seam of my tight shorts to rub back and forth against my swollen vulva in the throes of intense excitement.

It does not take long until I am unable to satisfy myself this way and I look at the man just inches from me and realize his erection has engorged to mammoth proportions; its right there merely inches in front of me. This hard mass of manflesh; swollen and ready to satisfy me. I take that last step that separated us, positioning myself so that straddle the thigh of his outstretched leg. His hard strong thigh was now between my bare ones. His impossibly long and thick erection showing clearly at least 9 inches down the inside of his leg. I raise my eyes to his and his pupils are enlarged so his entire iris seemed to be black and in the dim light of the bar, I could not tell what color they were. His nostril flare and his full lips are sharply delineated as he clenched his jaw together. I could see his Adams apple bob as he swallowed, even as his chest rose and fell as his breathing increased. The heat emanating from his body was insane.

I begin to gyrate on him, moving my body with the music, using his long outstretched leg as I erotically humped my swollen female flesh over him, searching for more contact from his hard and throbbing cock to ease my frustration on. I can feel his thigh quiver as he tightens his muscle and as he lifts his leg higher to facilitate my quest for more contact. I look down at where I am rubbing against him and can clearly see that my juices are smearing a wet trail along the light material of his pant leg. I feel him shift in his seat and when I look up, in my peripheral vision, I see him hand his drink to the man standing beside him, who is watching us intently. I am vaguely aware that other people are watching as well, but by this point I don’t care. Nothing matters but this man and my overwhelming need for release from the passion surging through my body.

With no warning, I feel his hands on my hips as he shifts his weight to slide lower in the chair, extending his leg as he moves, so that it brings my pussy in direct contact with that beautiful, thick cock being restrained by his pants, though not hidden by any means. I can feel his big hands against my hip bones and his fingers spread across my ass; I see sparks behind closed eyelids with the surge of pure sexual demand and need. I arch my back and with renewed momentum I start to thrust wildly against him as he used those big hands to aide my movements by pushing and pulling me against his cock and thigh.

My hands reach up to his shoulders to clench the material of his shirt as I use it for leverage and to pull myself faster and faster towards the pleasure I was chasing. The music was deafening in the dark and crowded room but I am barely aware of the whistles and encouragement being shouted into the din, from the people standing around us, watching the impromptu Bacchanalian performance in front of them, seemingly more aware than I was at that moment. For me, nothing existed but this male body between my thighs. I was wild with my need to orgasm. I had no sense of anything but the man whose beautifully hard cock was throbbing under my sensitive pussy, yet not touching it in all its silken, bare glory.

I grinded against him and thrust over him; I smashed my cunt against his cotton covered cock to mercilessly stroke off my clitoris from the friction of the clothes between us; using his deliciously hard cock to satisfy my fertile and demanding body. I rode his thigh hard and fast, like racing bareback on a Percheron stallion. With a cry of primitive and guttural abandon I screamed out into the noise of the night, clenching every muscle involuntarily as I crested into an explosive orgasm of intense, toe curling release, flooding his thigh with my hot sweet juices. Nothing existed beyond the throbbing pounding tension surging through my body in a riotous roaring of color and crashing waves as I quivered with the intensity of it.

The first thing I was aware of besides my own body, was feel his hands on my bare back. Then I could hear the riotous applause and screaming approval of our audience, over the music, as I slowly came back into myself and collapsed forward onto his chest. His leg now a source of support, as my knees had been unable to support me through my orgasm, instead of an object to satisfy myself on. My hair covered my flushed face as I rested my head on his powerful chest and I could hear the thundering of his heart and feel the raggedness of his breath on the top of my head. I stayed there, with my eyes closed just trying to catch my breath, in the safety of his powerful arms as he stroked my back and hair to calm me down from my powerful orgasm.

I felt him shift and lift me as he swung my legs forward until I was cradled in his arms. His one arm was still behind my back, the other sliding under my thighs to cradle me against his chest. He stood up to an impressive height, easily one of the tallest men in the room and started to make his way through the press of people who had witnessed my undoing, holding me close against his chest and my arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his muscular neck as he started to move.

I heard the deep rumble of his voice for the first time as he said, “I do believe its time I take this little girl home to bed,” which was met by renewed cheering from everyone surrounding us, as they parted to let us pass. I buried my flaming face into the crease of his neck, for the first time experiencing a sense of embarrassment and not wanting to acknowledge anyone who had just seen what I had done. I had no idea where he was taking me. I didn’t even know his name. The only thing I was sure about, was that the thin barrier of our clothes would shortly be removed and the pressure contained in that glorious erection, would soon be released; his obvious need to take me, would soon be fulfilled.

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7 Responses to dancing at the bar

  1. MaríMar says:

    Loved this…

  2. Delicious, arousing write,

  3. A Good Wife says:


  4. mala says:

    Holy Fucking Christ! Wow!

    *and writing a book is not as overwhelming as you might think.. try it, you can do it, it will just come, trust me*

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