It's Friday night and I was off out but didn't know where, nor even with who. I'd originally planned to go with hubby Rog , but he went out straight from work, so I called the girls and latched on to their night out – which sounded like it could be fun.
We had a few drinks first and waited till the evening livened up before we hit the clubs and I've got to say we WERE in party mood. I'm afraid a few drinks not only loosen my inhibitions, it makes me horny as hell. So I was really in the mood anyway, and all that girls talk while we were just having those few drinks only made it worse. Not only were several of the married ladies in this birthday group talking about getting a shag – without telling their hubbies, of course – but one of them, a very pretty little black girl called Mary, had promised to take us to some places where not only was the music black and hard, but so were the men. And she was right.
The music WAS good, and that's another thing that always makes me horny, especially when I've had a few drinks, and so were were on the floor right away, and soon the movement, the bass and the alcohol had got me feeling all warm and wet, and ready for anything.
To say that we had a lot of attention would be understating it by about a mile. There were quite a lot of pretty young girls in the place, but not many of them were white, and none of them were clearly half-***** and in party mode like us. I didn't need to go out of my way to attract attention, but you know me – just can't help it. My skirt wasvery swirly, so that when I turned quickly it flared out almost horizontal from the hips, so I knew that everyone in the place could see stocking-tops, and the occasional flash of red knickers. There was really no need for that sort of thing, but we were all going a bit mad, behaving like kids in a sweetshop, and the sweeties were gathering round us like sharks in a swimming-pool. But what handsome sharks they were!
Spoilt for choice, said Lyn and she was right. Any number of fit young guys – let's say under 25 – were circling round us, and in no time at all we were dancing with them chatting and drinking and having exactly the sort of good time we'd been hoping for. Arriving in the club about 10.30, we'd been about a dozen. Inside an hour we were two groups of three, and not all of the missing ones had gone home to hubby, I don't think. I reckon at least two of them – and surprisingly not the older marrieds but the younger ones – had gone off with guys, and you know they weren't going to have a cosy chat.
One girl in particular had practically been shagging while dancing and that had been good for me – not only was it horny as fuck to watch her writhing up against guy who was writhing back as hard as he knew how – and he was clearly VERY hard – but it took a lot of attention away from those of us who were more discreet, and after all this time I think I'm pretty good at doing that.
I'm not being modest if I tell you I wasn't the only one of us to change partners every 5 minutes, because there was a lot going on, believe me, but I may have been the only one who took the opportunity to have a feel of everyone I danced with. Told you I was in that sort of mood, and I was. The first guy was quite pretty, but he had a huge bulge in his trousers and it seemed a shame to waste it, so I didn't. The second one was also very bulgy, so I had a rummage round between us as well, and after that I thought it would be rude not to do it to all of them, so I did. Lost count, obviously, me being blonde and all, but it was probably 10 or 12, and it was nothing serious – I mean I didn't unzip them or anything, just had a friendly fondle and a bit of a squeeze.
They all seemed to like it, and I know I did. I know this sounds a bit awful, but I'm afraid I could feel all the wetness in my knickers every time I moved, and any of those guys who put a hand up my skirt would have got the shock of his life. Actually, that's probably not true at all – I was almost certainly behaving like a bitch in heat looking for a fuck and they probably all knew what to expect. But only one of them took the trouble to find out, maybe because we happened to be dancing in a corner, more or less, when the music slowed a bit, and I tried to dance with my legs apart so he could get two fingers in me, which he eventually managed for the last couple of minutes. Another slow track and I would have cum or fucked him, but the DJ decided otherwise.
Managed to dance close with a few more though, and have those secret gropes I was talking about, and got my bum squeezed in return, which if you do it properly has quite an effect on the pussy as well, but though my knickers were now scrunched up to one side and my pussy was bare and ready, none of the other even tried to touch it, so I was properly gagging by the time I started dancing with Steve. He was incredibly handsome and looked like he'd been carved out of a solid block of milk chocolate. When I had my regulation feel around and discovered that he'd got the right equipment I had a little giggle because it really doesn't get any better that that – sex and chocolate all in the same package. All that's missing is the champagne and I was already thinking ahead to popping his cork.
Was the DJ watching us? I don't think so but he slowed the music down exactly at the right moment, not much, but enough for me to close in on Steve and him to do the same to me. I thought I wouldn't wait for him to get going in case he took his time and the DJ changed his mind like last time, so after a brief squeeze of the package, which had got even fuller since I touched it last time, I'm pleased to say, I did him a favour and relieved the strain by unzipping him with one slow tug, and it sort of burst out of the gap, still wrapped in the cloth of his boxers but immediately feeling better and harder, starting another little trickle in my knickers. Well, a big one, really.
I wriggled a hand through the little slit thing – which is never easy at the best of times, still less in this situation, so if you design or make men's knickers for a living, try and do something about that, okay – and grabbed it somewhere near the base, a thick handful so hard that I could pull his whole body towards me with it, and feel the head pressed into my tummy, delightfully close to my pussy, which was now burning up with need, and I could feel the wetness at the tops of my thighs when they brushed together, which wasn't that often, to be fair.
He was talking to me quite a bit but I really can't remember much of it, mostly cos I couldn't really hear above half cos the music was so loud, which is why I missed him going is she with you? or something, meaning my sister, who was now standing behind me, luckily to my left, or she would have seen what my right hand was doing. I've been in some strange situations, but I have to say that talking to Ali while I was holding a huge hard cock in my hand was practically surreal, and if I hadn't been inwardly glowing from a mixture of Bacardi and rampant lust, I might have felt a bit more embarrassed.
I couldn't let go or put it away without drawing attention to the situation, so I just gripped it a bit more firmly and pulled it a bit closer to me, which Steve seemed to like, Ali was shouting in my ear about we're off now and nodding at the last couple of the birthday group, and she had to lean in really close for me to hear. As she was talking Steve's hand slid round off my bum – which she must have seen him gripping before she leaned in to talk, but now couldn't – ran down the front of my thigh, picked up the hem of my skirt and shot straight up between my legs. My knickers were screwed up to one side and my pussy was wet and slippery – Rog always says it's like a jar of warm honey, which I quite like the sound of. And Steve liked the feel of, because all of a sudden the thing in my hand jerked and grew thicker and harder
I jerked too, and gave a little gasp, which Ali would have seen but not heard, lucky for me, as he quickly put a second finger in with the first, and she was saying it's just you two now, meaning me and Lyn, who she nodded towards and I gasped again, because she was sat on a sofa thingy against the wall snogging one of the guys like she was trying to suck his face off, and he was holding her head in both hands as he returned the favour. It was a very horny sight, but what really made it rude was that Lyn was sat there with her legs so far apart that even I could see her knickers, white, practically begging him to touch her.
Ali raised an eyebrow and shouted in my ear will you be okay, and I sort of wriggled myself down onto Steve's fingers before I told her we'd be fine, so she kissed my cheek and off she went with the other two and when I turned up to Steve to tell him off for being so cheeky he just kissed me, so I decided not to and wriggled on his fingers some more instead and started to rub him slowly up and down. He laughed a bit and I raised an eyebrow - semaphore works best in loud places, I always think – and he said I didn't think you were ever going to let go, and I realised that ever since I'd put my hand in his pants I'd had been gripping his cock like a drowning woman holding on to a branch or something.
Apparently I do that. Roger always laughs, because he says if you watch the movies it's the one constant thing – as soon as the cock comes out, I get hold of it and don't let go until it's in me, which can sometimes be an hour or more. Changing positions, having a little drink – talking to Rog – I've still got a grip on it. Now Rog has pointed it out I've seen it in other amateur movies as well, so I'm not as embarrassed as I used to be, but even so I had to apologise to Steve.
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We had a few drinks first and waited till the evening livened up before we hit the clubs and I've got to say we WERE in party mood. I'm afraid a few drinks not only loosen my inhibitions, it makes me horny as hell. So I was really in the mood anyway, and all that girls talk while we were just having those few drinks only made it worse. Not only were several of the married ladies in this birthday group talking about getting a shag – without telling their hubbies, of course – but one of them, a very pretty little black girl called Mary, had promised to take us to some places where not only was the music black and hard, but so were the men. And she was right.
The music WAS good, and that's another thing that always makes me horny, especially when I've had a few drinks, and so were were on the floor right away, and soon the movement, the bass and the alcohol had got me feeling all warm and wet, and ready for anything.
To say that we had a lot of attention would be understating it by about a mile. There were quite a lot of pretty young girls in the place, but not many of them were white, and none of them were clearly half-***** and in party mode like us. I didn't need to go out of my way to attract attention, but you know me – just can't help it. My skirt wasvery swirly, so that when I turned quickly it flared out almost horizontal from the hips, so I knew that everyone in the place could see stocking-tops, and the occasional flash of red knickers. There was really no need for that sort of thing, but we were all going a bit mad, behaving like kids in a sweetshop, and the sweeties were gathering round us like sharks in a swimming-pool. But what handsome sharks they were!
Spoilt for choice, said Lyn and she was right. Any number of fit young guys – let's say under 25 – were circling round us, and in no time at all we were dancing with them chatting and drinking and having exactly the sort of good time we'd been hoping for. Arriving in the club about 10.30, we'd been about a dozen. Inside an hour we were two groups of three, and not all of the missing ones had gone home to hubby, I don't think. I reckon at least two of them – and surprisingly not the older marrieds but the younger ones – had gone off with guys, and you know they weren't going to have a cosy chat.
One girl in particular had practically been shagging while dancing and that had been good for me – not only was it horny as fuck to watch her writhing up against guy who was writhing back as hard as he knew how – and he was clearly VERY hard – but it took a lot of attention away from those of us who were more discreet, and after all this time I think I'm pretty good at doing that.
I'm not being modest if I tell you I wasn't the only one of us to change partners every 5 minutes, because there was a lot going on, believe me, but I may have been the only one who took the opportunity to have a feel of everyone I danced with. Told you I was in that sort of mood, and I was. The first guy was quite pretty, but he had a huge bulge in his trousers and it seemed a shame to waste it, so I didn't. The second one was also very bulgy, so I had a rummage round between us as well, and after that I thought it would be rude not to do it to all of them, so I did. Lost count, obviously, me being blonde and all, but it was probably 10 or 12, and it was nothing serious – I mean I didn't unzip them or anything, just had a friendly fondle and a bit of a squeeze.
They all seemed to like it, and I know I did. I know this sounds a bit awful, but I'm afraid I could feel all the wetness in my knickers every time I moved, and any of those guys who put a hand up my skirt would have got the shock of his life. Actually, that's probably not true at all – I was almost certainly behaving like a bitch in heat looking for a fuck and they probably all knew what to expect. But only one of them took the trouble to find out, maybe because we happened to be dancing in a corner, more or less, when the music slowed a bit, and I tried to dance with my legs apart so he could get two fingers in me, which he eventually managed for the last couple of minutes. Another slow track and I would have cum or fucked him, but the DJ decided otherwise.
Managed to dance close with a few more though, and have those secret gropes I was talking about, and got my bum squeezed in return, which if you do it properly has quite an effect on the pussy as well, but though my knickers were now scrunched up to one side and my pussy was bare and ready, none of the other even tried to touch it, so I was properly gagging by the time I started dancing with Steve. He was incredibly handsome and looked like he'd been carved out of a solid block of milk chocolate. When I had my regulation feel around and discovered that he'd got the right equipment I had a little giggle because it really doesn't get any better that that – sex and chocolate all in the same package. All that's missing is the champagne and I was already thinking ahead to popping his cork.
Was the DJ watching us? I don't think so but he slowed the music down exactly at the right moment, not much, but enough for me to close in on Steve and him to do the same to me. I thought I wouldn't wait for him to get going in case he took his time and the DJ changed his mind like last time, so after a brief squeeze of the package, which had got even fuller since I touched it last time, I'm pleased to say, I did him a favour and relieved the strain by unzipping him with one slow tug, and it sort of burst out of the gap, still wrapped in the cloth of his boxers but immediately feeling better and harder, starting another little trickle in my knickers. Well, a big one, really.
I wriggled a hand through the little slit thing – which is never easy at the best of times, still less in this situation, so if you design or make men's knickers for a living, try and do something about that, okay – and grabbed it somewhere near the base, a thick handful so hard that I could pull his whole body towards me with it, and feel the head pressed into my tummy, delightfully close to my pussy, which was now burning up with need, and I could feel the wetness at the tops of my thighs when they brushed together, which wasn't that often, to be fair.
He was talking to me quite a bit but I really can't remember much of it, mostly cos I couldn't really hear above half cos the music was so loud, which is why I missed him going is she with you? or something, meaning my sister, who was now standing behind me, luckily to my left, or she would have seen what my right hand was doing. I've been in some strange situations, but I have to say that talking to Ali while I was holding a huge hard cock in my hand was practically surreal, and if I hadn't been inwardly glowing from a mixture of Bacardi and rampant lust, I might have felt a bit more embarrassed.
I couldn't let go or put it away without drawing attention to the situation, so I just gripped it a bit more firmly and pulled it a bit closer to me, which Steve seemed to like, Ali was shouting in my ear about we're off now and nodding at the last couple of the birthday group, and she had to lean in really close for me to hear. As she was talking Steve's hand slid round off my bum – which she must have seen him gripping before she leaned in to talk, but now couldn't – ran down the front of my thigh, picked up the hem of my skirt and shot straight up between my legs. My knickers were screwed up to one side and my pussy was wet and slippery – Rog always says it's like a jar of warm honey, which I quite like the sound of. And Steve liked the feel of, because all of a sudden the thing in my hand jerked and grew thicker and harder
I jerked too, and gave a little gasp, which Ali would have seen but not heard, lucky for me, as he quickly put a second finger in with the first, and she was saying it's just you two now, meaning me and Lyn, who she nodded towards and I gasped again, because she was sat on a sofa thingy against the wall snogging one of the guys like she was trying to suck his face off, and he was holding her head in both hands as he returned the favour. It was a very horny sight, but what really made it rude was that Lyn was sat there with her legs so far apart that even I could see her knickers, white, practically begging him to touch her.
Ali raised an eyebrow and shouted in my ear will you be okay, and I sort of wriggled myself down onto Steve's fingers before I told her we'd be fine, so she kissed my cheek and off she went with the other two and when I turned up to Steve to tell him off for being so cheeky he just kissed me, so I decided not to and wriggled on his fingers some more instead and started to rub him slowly up and down. He laughed a bit and I raised an eyebrow - semaphore works best in loud places, I always think – and he said I didn't think you were ever going to let go, and I realised that ever since I'd put my hand in his pants I'd had been gripping his cock like a drowning woman holding on to a branch or something.
Apparently I do that. Roger always laughs, because he says if you watch the movies it's the one constant thing – as soon as the cock comes out, I get hold of it and don't let go until it's in me, which can sometimes be an hour or more. Changing positions, having a little drink – talking to Rog – I've still got a grip on it. Now Rog has pointed it out I've seen it in other amateur movies as well, so I'm not as embarrassed as I used to be, but even so I had to apologise to Steve.
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