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I have never been a fan of nightclubs - the sporadic lighting bouncing off the walls, the way the floor is always sticky under your feet, how there's a bouncer at the door but there seems to be no regard for an occupancy limit. But tonight I am on a mission and this is a necessary evil if I am going to get what I want. The best way to fuel your demons is to bring them to hell and that's what Galactic is: a room full of sinners ready to push you over your breaking point to unlock your true desires. I am my own escort to the underworld.
I broke my number one rule by coming here alone, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I am on the prowl - hungry for a man who can make my whole body forget about the daily stress of work. My usual medicine hasn't been available lately and without him, I can feel my muscles holding on to the tension of every day since my last orgasm.
The Battery Operated Boyfriend in my nightstand drawer isn't cutting it anymore and I am sick of orgasms from myself. I need someone new, someone with a penis that doesn't rely on electricity to get it going. BOB has been a staple but has now overstayed his welcome.
I keep my limbs moving to the electronic club music while the sweet and bitter taste of the Supernova cocktail I had when I got here is still tingling on my tongue. The more I gyrate, the more likely I am to attract a man who is here alone and has the same plan as me for the night: to get lost in a stranger's body and forget my problems. It's like I'm a worm on a hook, dangling and writhing like bait waiting for the perfect taker.
Warmth drifts along my waist and I know that I have trapped one like a rattlesnake waiting in the tall grass for its prey. I look down at the hands that are now grasping onto my hip bones as they sway back and forth. A giant black X covers each of them, but that doesn't keep the lights from reflecting against the ripples of his skin where the tendons tense to keep me against him. His fingers are long with a small brush of hair just below his knuckles. The light dances over us, illuminating his hands even more. Clean fingernails. I lick my lips, trying to make sure the drool coming from my mouth doesn't escape with how much that turns me on. Say what you want, but good hygiene is always a green flag waving in the wind.
The song fades into a new beat, the rhythm slowing down but still pulsing fast enough to keep up with the club vibes. My hips move in a more sensual way to match, pushing my ass back against him to make my intentions clear. His fingers tighten against me as I feel something stiffen behind me. Message received, we are on the same page. I will give him one more song of this grinding foreplay before I hopefully have my way with him. My hunger ravenous like a predator, ready to unhinge my jaw and swallow him whole.
Hot air brushes against the apex of my neck and I feel my skin respond, rising in bumps all over. A warm, soft wetness traces along the top of my shoulder and then up the slope of my neck. I tilt my head to the left, giving him more access to the most sensitive parts he is exploring. He bites down, adding pain to the soft sensations from him. My lips part and let out a moan that no one can hear over the club music.
With my head tilted back and resting against his hard chest, I notice the ceiling for the first time. There are exposed beams and ducts from whatever kind of warehouse this was before they converted it to a pumping nightclub. My eyes get lost in watching the lights swirl around the ceiling, occasionally pointing down at different parts of the dance floor. My hips get lost, the rhythm in them skipping from being distracted by what he is doing with his mouth. I might not make it to the next song, my panties are already damp from how his tongue glides expertly against my skin.
"Am I stealing you from someone?" he asks after running his tongue against the shell of my ear. His voice is deep and instantly makes my core clench. The music is loud, thumping from the towers of speakers on the far wall, but the way his voice permeates my body is louder, my muscles practically vibrating from the six words he spoke.
I have to be careful with how I respond. Rule one is never to come out alone so that you have someone looking out for you. But I already broke that rule, and that wasn't what he was asking. My answer isn't a lie when I turn around to face him. He pushes his legs to their full height and he has about four inches over me. His hands find my hips again, his arms extending out to reach me, closing the space between us from my change in position. My arms float around his neck, pulling it down just enough so that I can answer.
"You can't steal me if I am willing." It sounds presumptuous coming from me, but I am determined to have my needs met and still get home to bed at a reasonable time.
When I pull back, my eyes meet his. With the color-changing lights and strobe flashes, it is hard to make out what color they are, dancing from pink to green to purple. I know that his hair is black or brown, the color never giving in to the flashing rainbow, staying deep and dark atop his head. His cheek is soft when it brushes against mine, kissing against the side of my neck as his hands drift lower to grab my ass. I moan again, only this time I feel it ricochet off his hard chest.
"Come to the bathroom with me?" My tone is firm like the question isn't a question at all but rather an invitation with an implied RSVP of'hell yes'.
My fingers tickle down his arm to where his hand is firmly planted against the top of my ass, pulling his hand off me and using it to guide him to where the bathrooms are like a leash. I wish I could say that I haven't done this before, but that would be a lie. I am sinning enough without addingliarto the list of offenses.
The line to the ladies' room is long, per usual. It is harder to sneak a guy into the girls' room versus the opposite. I pull him against me and for the first time I see his eyes unfiltered, the lighting in the hallway giving off a soft white glow so that I can make out their true color. They are the craziest shade of blue I have ever seen, like a ripe blueberry and the crashing waves of the ocean had a perfect baby.
"I can't wait, can you bring me into the men's room?" I ask, keeping my tone innocent in case anyone around us is eavesdropping on our exchange. The way I phrase the question makes it seem like I can't hold my bladder, but that's not what I am struggling to wait for.
His reply doesn't come from words, but rather his actions as he pulls me towards the men's room, pushing the door open with ease yet never dropping my hand. One guy is standing against a urinal on the wall. He doesn't even look up when we enter. See what I mean? If this was the ladies' room, all eyes would be on us and there would be whispering that could still be heard by everyone.
There are two stalls and he brings me to the one furthest from the bathroom entrance, holding the stall door open for me. I don't break apart our hands, yanking him in with me before clicking the lock into place. He lets out a small chuckle, pinning my body against the wall and taking my lips with his.
I'm not sure if it's the alcohol in my system - even though I haven't had much - but he somehow tastes spicy, like the heat of the sun is built into his lips. Or one of those crazy peppers you see people eating on the internet where their faces practically melt off. My tongue dances with his, deepening our kiss and the taste of him changes from spicy to smoky, hot, and musky against my lips. It's as if I can taste a campfire, the warmth of the flames and the suffocating nature of the smoke stealing my breath.
I drift my hand down to his erection, squeezing it just enough to elicit a guttural groan from him. I move my hand to my skirt, rummaging around to find the slit where a pocket is hiding and pulling a shimmering foil packet from it. I press it against his chest.
Rule number two - always bring your own condom. There's no way I am chancing things with an old condom from his wallet that he has had in there since he got his first boner. Safety is everyone's responsibility.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" He breaks our kiss, taking the wrapped condom from my fingers, and analyzing it for a moment before meeting my eyes again.
"I know what I want, don't you?" I answer his question with one of my own, my fingers tucking under the waistband of his dark jeans and brushing against the patch of hair right above his dick.
"I mean obviously," his hand wraps around mine, pushing it against the hardness in his pants. "But I am a gentleman and know that there are certain things that a woman expects and is entitled to," he pauses before continuing. "Even if it is just a bathroom hookup at a nightclub." With his final word, he slips his hand under my skirt.
The soft lace of my panties is already a sticky mess from his dirty words and assault on my neck earlier on the dance floor. He lets out a deep growl when his fingers find my wetness, sliding against my most sensitive part, adding pressure and making my back arch against the wall involuntarily.
The speed of his exploration is torturous. It's not fast enough but is also bordering on too slow. The pad of his middle finger moves from my clitoris to my entrance and back again. With each swipe, he pushes harder against me, deeper into me, the friction giving me exactly what I want but not enough of it. If I wanted a man to be sweet to me, I would get a boyfriend.
But that's not what I am after.
I grab onto his wrist and push it against my center, his finger entering me with nowhere else to go. I take control of his tempo, showing him exactly how I like it. We both let out a moan and he takes my mouth again, swallowing down every gasp of pleasure he is pulling from me. I want to punch him in the face when he pulls his hand out from under my skirt, running it along the seam of our lips that are still passing sloppy drunk kisses. I can taste myself on him and it's fucking erotic. He pushes his finger past my lips, inviting my tongue to wrap around it, the evidence of my arousal leaving a sticky coating.
"Greedy girl," he says in his timbre voice and it sounds like sex on fire.
He pulls his finger from my mouth before putting it into his, sucking whatever is left of me from it. His hand drops back between us and I can't tell where the moisture is coming from - our saliva or my pussy - but I can hear the music of it increasing.
