Dancing

They say dancing is a good way to release some of that built up sexual energy. I really found that to be true.

Last night I couldn't sleep. I tried but it's too hot and I was too horny. Too needy.

I slipped out of bed about 2:00 AM and pulled on a white tank top, no bra, a short skirt and boots. Stuff I wouldn't normally wear but my niece left it at my house when she was staying for a few weeks. I ran a little gel through my hair, scrunched it up a bit, and put on my make-up pretty heavy handed at the red lights.

I went to an old warehouse turned after hours dance club across town. One of those BYOB type places with a great sound system and some lights but little else. The party would still be going on but at almost 3:00 AM the crowd would be geeked out tweekin 20'something's with nowhere to go tomorrow.

I couldn't look like a librarian and blend in. One look in the mirror told me I didn't look like a librarian. I doubt anybody I knew would recognize me if I ran into anybody.

Once inside I knew this wasn't my scene. Not my crowd. I was glad the music was too loud to talk. Too loud to hear anybody. So I headed straight for the dancefloor.

The music was loud, pulsing, techno. Darude. The stuff I listen to in when I dance in my bedroom but nobody knows. I closed my eyes and moved like nobody else was there. Running my hands over my body. Moving. pulsing.... throbbing....

It didn't take long before I had a guy dancing with me. Kinda cute but not the right one. Two dances and I danced away.

Then another. He was looking at my tits. I knew a thin white tanktop in those lights, me sweating, I knew he could see everything. I let him look. We were dancing hard and fast. I rubbed against him, giving him permission to look. Maybe to touch. Still he had to act like it was an accident. Like he was scared I would get mad and slap him.

I moved closer, grinding against him in time to the driving beat of the music. He was hard. He wasn't the one. I moved on, dancing with another guy, then another, then another. Not the one.

Then finally I found him. The one. Just the right height. About 2 inches taller than me. Makes everything line up just right. Broad shoulders, nice strong arms. So I moved closer for the final test. Dancing fast and close. Throbbing, pulsing, grinding.

I ran my hands over my tits and he was looking. He ran his hands over my tits and stopped to lightly pinch my nipples. Yes. Little shockwaves through my body straight to my pussy. I was dripping. My panties were soaked with my juices. I could feel the bulge in his pants as I ground against him, dancing, if you call it dancing, all but fucking on the dancefloor. But nobody cares at these places as long as it's not actual fucking. So I rubbed against him and felt it and it felt like it would do nicely.

Two more songs was all I could take of this, grinding together, touching, teasing, dry humping. I needed it. I took his hand without a word and lead him to the bathroom. The women's room because I wasn't sure if the men's would have a stall. He hesitated and said something but the music was too loud for me to make it out. I really didn't care what he said. I just smiled and tugged on his hand, pulling it up to my breast and he followed inside.

Once inside I pulled him into an empty stall. It was a little quieter in there but not much. He pressed me back against the metal wall of the stall and kissed me hard. Yes, it was what I wanted.

We broke apart and I reached to undo his jeans. I was fumbling with the buttons so he took over getting them undone and I reached in the little pocket of my skirt and pulled out a condom, ripping open the packet with my teeth. He just grinned and shook his head with a little smile that said he knew he had been nothing but the conquest I had set out for. And he didn't mind. Good boy.

Pants around his ankles, he kissed me hard again, then moving his mouth to my neck, biting softly. Yes. I lifted one leg and hooked it over his hip, pushing my panties to the side, opening for him, feeling his hard cock against me. Yes. I was wet and ready.

He thrust into me, deep. God yes. I could feel the music vibrating through the metal wall pressed against my back as he started fucking me hard against it, pounding me in time to the music hard and fast, making me cry out but it was ok since the music was so loud.

I could hear someone in the stall next to me and my fingers were hooked over the top of the wall but I didn't care. Just fuck me harder. That's it. Harder. Deeper.

He had me by the waist so I picked up my other foot and put both of my boots against the opposite wall of the stall. Just the right width. That was what I needed. Just the right angle. He was hitting just the right spot. I could feel it. Slamming into my throbbing clit with each thrust. Banging deep inside of me. Sending shocks of pleasure through me. Fuck yes, this was what I needed. Hard and fast.

I closed my eyes and gave in. I was cumming I could hear people in the bathroom. A knock on the stall door. Fuck them. Don't stop, I mouthed and he fucked me harder, leaning down to grab my nipple through my shirt and bite. Fuck yes, I exploded, cumming hard, crying out, clawing at his back, biting at his neck. Oh fuck yes. I could feel him cumming too, still pounding. God that's what I needed.

I dropped my feet to the floor and smoothed my skirt while he buttoned up. We opened the stall door to the rent-a-cop telling us we couldn't do that but it was too late, huh? I just smiled and shrugged and walked off, making my way for the front door. Just before I left he caught me by the arm and handed me a piece of paper with his phone number and name on it and made the little "call me" motion with his hand. I smiled. But I dropped the paper on the ground as soon as I stepped out the door. Who needs that kind of trouble?

But whoever said dancing was a good way to release some pent up sexual energy sure was right.