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From: Dripping Ink <DrippingInk@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Sticky Dance Floor M-1st/F, oral, exhib.
Date: Wed,  4 Apr 2001 00:10:07 -0400
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The Sticky Dance Floor M-1st/F, oral, exhib.

Copyright (C) 2000 by DrippingInk@excite.com 
All rights reserved. 
  
    Damn, I hated the noise.  No matter where you went, it was the same. 
Somehow, the deejays around the world must have all gone to the same school.
There, they learned to turn the volume up until it hurt and loudspeakers
only produced distortion. 
    Even here at the bar, it was near impossible to hear the barmaid.  She
showed me four fingers, meaning four dollars for my beer.  I wondered what
sign she would make for five dollars and seventy-five cents?  She was a
beautiful woman with reddish hair and a little bit shorter than me.  Maybe
five foot six. 
    Like most barmaids, she was dressed extra sexy, with a black skirt and a
white blouse.  That was surely done on purpose, maybe to get better tips
from the guys.  She was looking at me with a very sexy, provocative smile as
an extra, just for me.  You bet.  I didn't like being manipulated like that,
but I gave her a five anyway.  I knew she did that to all male customers,
but it looked so personal.  It's like the lottery, where you know you're not
going to win, but you buy the ticket just in case.  The chances of any other
girl doing as much for me tonight were just about nil, in the best of
scenarios. 
    I was the anonymous type of guy.  The one all alone at the bar, except
when being there with friends, but that was something else.  As much as I
dreamed of having a girlfriend all to myself, women were not returning the
favor.  I just wasn't the guy to make heads turn as I went by.  I was used
to it.  That is, as much as you can get used to these things. 
    It looked like this would be another memorable, depressing evening. 
Memorable because I would think of all those gorgeous girls all around me. 
Depressing because that would be another night all alone, solitary within a
crowd of hundreds of people. 
    Well, at least I'd use my time proactively.  That meant drinking my
beer, smiling, and enjoying all the women around me.  Looking at their
beautiful bodies was my favorite sport.  I tried to picture their panties
under their skirt, or imagine them undressing just for me. 
    I would exploit the memory of the most outrageous bodies I would see
tonight to play with myself for the rest of the week.  Without their
knowledge or consent, I would dream of fucking those girls and otherwise
using them, while jerking off.  Just like I did since I was a teenager.  I
had fucked so many girls in my mind.  That's what all boys did anyway. 
    All the guys I've known fantasized about fucking all the beautiful girls
they met.  Well, some of them got to fuck for real, also.  The lucky ones.
Those who had the body, or the cash, to get a girl interested.  I had
neither. 
    So I started hunting around the place, with my eyes as my only weapon. 
There were so many great-looking babes around me; I already felt the small
pressure of my cock, trying to find its way up my pants. 
    That is the problem with cocks; they always get themselves stuck somehow
on the way up.  Usually, there would be some cute babe around, not even
aware of the effect she had on me.  I'd have to find a way to either hide my
erection or release it from the tangle of my pants or boxers.  Sometimes,
even a well-centered, upward-pointing dick would still be easy to spot for
anyone looking for something there.  Thinking about these things made me
harder.  It had been too long since I last jerked off.  I'd have to do it
tonight for sure. 
    My eyes went from one woman to the next, looking for the one I would
"use" tonight for my hand job.  That certainly changed my perspective.
Instead of being an uninteresting nerd in this place, it made me the
predator.  No longer waiting for someone to be interested in me, I would
decide all alone which of these woman would submit to all my desires. She
wouldn't get a choice because she wouldn't be asked.  No fear of rejection.
I choose; she submits.  I can say it cheered me up. 
    They were all beautiful but I had criteria.  I'd think of two for a
start.  First, a brunette, or black hair would be even better.  I never
understood the guys-like-blonds-more stereotype.  Dark hair is so fucking
sexy!  I hesitated between outfit and height as my second decisive factor. 
Of course, I could choose to have more than two constraints, but I didn't
want to become too fussy.  Having to choose was very exciting in itself; I
wasn't used to having all the choices.  Certainly not with women. 
    I finally made up my mind and selected the outfit as my second goal. 
I'd rather be with a short woman in a sexy skirt than a tall one in pants,
that was for sure.  She'd have to be dressed sexy, but classy at the same
time.  Somewhere between the "I'm looking for a husband" look and the "I
want to be fucked again tonight" look.  Something more akin to the "You
might take advantage of me for this one occasion only" look.  Some
classy-looking skirt, that's what I needed. 
    I signaled the barmaid for another beer, and then looked at the women on
the dance floor.  Damn, I would have fucked just about any of them right
now.  But I had to respect my self-established criteria, and that tall blond
with the heavenly breasts didn't match them.  I looked at her for a while
anyway, until my new beer arrived.  Then my attention switched to the
beautiful barmaid instantly. 
    Still looking at me with that inciting smile, she bent to my left to
pickup things on the bar.  I had to stop looking at my wallet to concentrate
on her blouse opening, and the small but beautiful breasts she was showing
me nonchalantly.  All women do that, when they have to know better.  They
don't care I guess.  It's a way to say, "Look at what you could get if I
wanted to," but she won't allow it of course. 
    If she had a bra it certainly didn't show.  I couldn't see the nipples,
but everything else was more than enough for me.  That was all that was
needed to put the final touch to my partial erection.  It's surprising to
see all the thoughts and bodily reactions that can happen because of a
two-second look under a woman's shirt.  She turned to me again and I pulled
another five, with a grin.  It would be something to fuck her right here on
the bar, I dreamed for an instant. 
    Then I saw another young woman at a table to my left, at the border of
the dance floor.  While my problem was being alone, she seemed to have the
opposite problem.  She was surrounded by guys which she didn't seem to know,
or at least didn't want to be with.  The kind of well built guys who can
afford to be careless with women.  No wonder they were trying their luck
with her, she had the most fucking perfect body that I had ever seen. 
    She must have been quite tall, looking at the long legs going down from
her black skirt.  Maybe five foot ten, which is certainly above average. 
With the fashionable look of a model and the face of an angel, she managed
to forego leaving the impression of being too prissy.  She had that roguish
smile, making it clear she was in control and she would do what she pleased.

    For now, she was making it clear to those guy they were not about to
take advantage of her in any way.  One of them sat with her at the table and
talked to her.  Whatever he said, she answered by keeping her sophisticated
stance and shaking her head left and right.  The guy wouldn't stop without
pushing his luck a bit farther.  He slowly extended his hand under the table
and rested it on her left thigh. 
    Without even a flicker of her eyes, she kept smiling and moved the guy's
hand back on his own thigh, saying something to him.  Then he put his hand
back on her leg, only this time much higher.  His friends were having a good
laugh watching what was happening.  I'm not sure she heard them anyway, with
the outrageously loud music.  Still sitting upright, she looked down and
started talking again.  Most probably advising him to move away because she
had a serious look now. 
    Again, she tried to remove his hand but this time it didn't work at all.
He smiled at her.  I was trying to decide what I should do.  Maybe tell the
doorman.  I was certainly not about to resolve the issue myself, since this
guy must have had hands twice as large as mine.  Then an unmistakable sign
of pain replaced his smile.  I understood immediately when I saw the woman's
hand firmly holding the guy's crotch.  She was obviously not giving him the
hand job he would have liked.  His friends were still laughing, but at him
now. 
    The overly attractive female then got off her seat and went directly to
the dance floor, without looking back.  There was more than a pair of eyes
rolling in the direction of her sexy body while she walked past them.  This
woman was rocking the place.  All about her impressed me, and I found myself
wishing I had the guts to lay my hand on her thigh just once, like this
other idiot.  Feeling my cock regaining in hardness, I suddenly realized I
had lost my erection while looking at the scene.  That temporary plight
would be resolved very soon though.  This woman was so "fuckable" that she
would give a hard-on to a paraplegic. 
    She started to dance to the beat of an old disco hit.  I scrutinized her
every move, looking at her small, but very palpable breasts.  I imagined
taking those into my hands and had to move my dick manually so it could
continue its upward course. 
    Her moving waist got me to wander further into my thoughts.  I imagined
her waist moving like that to play with my hardened cock, as I got deeper
into her perfectly tight fuck hole.  It was so farfetched that it sounded
implausible even in a dream.  No matter, I was so aroused I decided to go
jerk off in the men's restroom right away, while the image of this ideal
screwing partner was still fresh in my mind. 
    Going directly to the restroom from my place was just about impossible. 
There were so many people in this place, and more coming in by the minute as
it usually happens this late, that I decided to make it through the dance
floor. 
    What the heck, I would even make sure to pat her with my left hand in
passing.  The hand I would use to masturbate, of course. 
    As I got up, the music changed to a slow one.  That didn't change much
of anything for me.  I saw that it did for her though.  The big strong guy
had recovered from the trauma of his squeezed balls and was heading her way.
It seemed this guy had the nerves to ask her for a dance; whatever it was,
she declined.  I was next to the girl now and it was quite a feeling to be
as near as that.  Progressing slowly in the crowd and not daring to look at
her, I brushed my left hand on her bottom while moving ahead.  I had barely
advanced when I felt something gripping my belt.  Uh, oh, she didn't like
that, I thought. 
    I turned around anticipating a frown from her, but she was smiling at me
and looking surprised.  Saying something I didn't understand she started
kissing me as if we had known each other forever.  We must have been quite
intimate in that other life, because she was French kissing me now!  My
heart skipped a beat or two as I tried to make sense of all this, abandoning
my body to her will in the meantime.  Her wet tongue was already hard at
work as she closed her arms around my waist.  I was helpless to do anything.

    To me, it was pretty much like a top model was raping me on the dance
floor. 
    My eyes still closed, I felt her tongue release her tender grip as she
transferred her left hand to behind my neck.  Her mouth moved to my ear but
she didn't talk to me.  Rather, she started licking my earlobe.  I gasped. 
    She was obviously using me to give a lesson to the guy who was bothering
her a moment before.  He would learn to take his turn; learn that she
decided what happened, when and with whom.  He had indeed retreated and was
looking at us fixedly.  I was about to talk to her, but the intensity of her
blue eyes looking into mine was all that was said.  She continued to prod
me, lowering her right hand on my bottom.  I could bear it no more and
pulled her to me as I returned her previous kiss; only with more sexual
passion. 
    She did not resist my advances but instead pushed the game even further
by massaging my back under my sweater, starting from my shoulders and going
down as far as she could.  Her fingers moved slowly, and for every inch she
was going down, my hardening dick was making the opposite move.  She must
have felt the obvious bulge against her belly because she was pushing even
more, even rubbing herself on me! 
    There were more and more couples on the dance floor and it was a good
thing.  The crowd would hide us a bit, because it was getting pretty hot now
that I had slipped my right hand under her shirt.  Moving my hand up ever so
slowly, so she could stop me if she wished, I didn't feel her bra.  I
pressed her against my chest to get a feel of her bosoms.  I could feel the
nakedness even through her shirt. 
    I wondered whether I could push my luck even further.  She had started
it and there was no stopping me now unless she made her limits clear.  I
looked around, waiting for a safe moment.  Being thankful for the darkness
of the place, I caressed her skin on my way up, until I felt her breast. 
Slowly but surely, a bit anxious, my hand familiarized itself with her
feminine curves. At last, my fingers touched her nipple as I looked at her
intently in the eyes, expecting a reprobative look which never came. 
    Her mouth opened and her eyes closed as she savored the touch of my
fingers.  I played with her tit for a while, then cupped my hand around the
whole mound of flesh, squeezing gently.  I was still savoring this moment
when, unexpectedly, she took control again by unzipping my pants in one
quick move.  Damn, I was at once nervous.  I had done these horny things a
million times in my head, but this sex goddess was making me live through
them! 
    We were mostly in a corner of the dance floor, but there were still
people everywhere.  Surely someone would notice what was going on, even in
the dim light.  The man she was avoiding when she got a hold of me didn't
miss a thing, that was for sure, because he remained fixed on us.  I must
have blushed, standing there with my zipper down. 
    The pressure was about to move yet another step higher.  She looked at
me with a provocative smile.  Then, she did it.  From inside my pants, I
felt the fabric shift as something moved in.  I would not have thought it
possible, but my hardened penis got even harder, more swollen with
expectation as my boxers were being unbuttoned.  In one swift move, her
whole hand closed on my shaft, and I groaned as a surge of pre-cum made it
through to the tip of my swollen glans. 
    I was stunned as much by her beauty as by the whole situation.  I had no
previous experience with a woman and here I was, a stranger holding my hard
rod under my pants, on a fucking dance floor.  We even had one spectator
fully aware of what was going on. 
    I didn't know what to do but she did.  She stared at the other guy as if
to challenge him, and started stroking my dick.  The closeness of our bodies
helped conceal the outrageous event, but it was as risky as walking on the
edge of a skyscraper.  That's how I felt anyway, although my male hormones
soon took over and I began to accept the situation. 
    I closed my eyes again as pleasure overcame me.  I imagined all that I
would like to do if only I could.  I'd bring her down on her knees and have
the perverted bitch take my cock out and suck on it while everybody looked
at her in shock.  Instead of moving my hips, I would push her head up and
down my shaft.  After screwing myself with her head, I'd turn her around and
have her bend forward, using a table for support. 
    Everybody would see me lift her short skirt and pull her panties to
expose her vulva.  To make it clear to her who was in control now, I'd put
my finger in her mouth for her to lick wet.  I would then fill her hole with
the damp finger for a while, before I came back to soak it again in her
mouth and back to her cunt. 
    With everybody still looking--the men at this submissive woman's body
and the women at my own throbbing cock--I would set my glans on the lips of
her sex.  I would delight myself by looking fixedly at some random woman in
the crowd, locking eyes with her while I pushed and forced my way inside
this woman.  That would feel pretty much like fucking the two of them at
once! 
    Although I could only imagine these things, it was easy to blend reality
and fiction with the feelings of the real hand now rubbing my cock.  My
ecstasy was shielding me from the fear of getting caught.  She pushed her
hand even farther inside my pants and between my legs, running her fingers
on the extremely sensitive skin of my crotch.  As she scraped my balls
delicately with her fingernails before she squeezed my pouch of skin, I made
it all the way to heaven in a split second. 
    Taken off guard, I had been overwhelmed by her exquisite manipulations. 
I groaned as tension built nearly instantaneously, filling my veined dick
with more blood and pressure than it could possibly take.  I felt the
inevitability of what was to follow.  Barely dancing anymore, I tried to
remain composed while a dense and voluminous batch of my sperm was ejected
forcefully under my pants.  I had jolts of intense pleasure with each and
every one of the powerful spasms. 
    I felt her cum-drenched hand still yanking me when I became conscious
that my dick had been pulled out of my pants.  My unusually large load of
cum had filled her hand, and was dripping on the floor as she squeezed my
shaft for more.  Her head on my shoulder and facing the other guy, she
continued to play with my dick as it became less and less rigid.  I would
have stayed there for the rest of my life, but then she put my flaccid dick
back where it belonged.  There was sperm everywhere inside my pants and I
felt soaked. 
    She gave me a quick kiss and a wink, then glanced at her tormentor one
last time in defiance, and left. 
    Incredible as it was, the weirdest part of this story was its impact on
my life.  It had none, actually.  A week later, I was back with my routine,
searching bars for great-looking babes that I could imagine fucking in my
mind while jerking off. 
    No other woman ever touched my cock again.  I still get a good laugh
though, thinking of all those people wondering why the dance floor was so
sticky, dancing on my load of cum.






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