I Want You To Secretly Finger Me In Front Of People
Friday night. I was out with the guy I'd been seeing: one drink had turned into two had turned into four, and we'd headed to a club.
The taxi ride had turned into a pretty heavy make-out session: he'd slid a hand inside my low-cut black silk top, pinching my nipple between thumb and forefinger, as below my short red skirt his fingers worked their way up my suspender straps, teasingly sliding beneath.
My legs had parted involuntarily as I slid my own hand down and rested it teasingly on his belt, the palm just rubbing against his ****. I'd stifled a moan against his neck as his fingers rubbed briefly against the silk of my panties - and then the taxi had arrived, and we'd had to hurriedly rearrange ourselves and straighten our clothes.
Inside the club it was dark and the music was loud and I wanted - needed - to ***. But first I'd settle for a drink. We walked over to the bar: there was a whole load of people stood around. I stood up against the bar and he stood directly behind me, but the bartenders were down at the other end and it was obvious there was going to be quite a wait.
I sighed. And then I felt his fingers on the inside of my thigh, reaching up under my skirt. He was standing so that nobody could really see what was going on, but his fingers quickly found my panties (soaking wet, as you can imagine...) and pushed them to one side. My legs trembled and I caught onto the bar for balance as he shoved two fingers inside me, then three, and started to **** me with them roughly.
My breathing sped up. This was so ******* hot. There were people literally inches away from me who had no idea that I was being fingered, that I was about to *** and oh ****** it felt so good...
But the bartender was coming down the bar. What looked like a queue turned out to be a group that quickly dispersed and suddenly it was almost my turn...I thought the guy would stop, or at least slow down, but instead his pace quickened and his thumb began insistently to rub at my ****. I was getting closer and closer to the edge...
"What would you like?" the bartender asked. He was looking at me oddly, I could tell, but then I was panting and biting my lip - trying my hardest not to moan as I could feel the familiar heat pooling in my belly. I was about to ***, and *** hard.
"Two vodkas," I managed to get out, between clenched teeth. The barman turned round to get to the optics and I couldn't hold back any more - I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle a moan and came, trembling, my fingers white on the bartop. I felt the guy slide his fingers out of my *****, wiping them dry on the inside of my thigh, where I could feel the hot wetness reminding me of what had just happened - if my weak, trembling legs weren't enough.
The taxi ride had turned into a pretty heavy make-out session: he'd slid a hand inside my low-cut black silk top, pinching my nipple between thumb and forefinger, as below my short red skirt his fingers worked their way up my suspender straps, teasingly sliding beneath.
My legs had parted involuntarily as I slid my own hand down and rested it teasingly on his belt, the palm just rubbing against his ****. I'd stifled a moan against his neck as his fingers rubbed briefly against the silk of my panties - and then the taxi had arrived, and we'd had to hurriedly rearrange ourselves and straighten our clothes.
Inside the club it was dark and the music was loud and I wanted - needed - to ***. But first I'd settle for a drink. We walked over to the bar: there was a whole load of people stood around. I stood up against the bar and he stood directly behind me, but the bartenders were down at the other end and it was obvious there was going to be quite a wait.
I sighed. And then I felt his fingers on the inside of my thigh, reaching up under my skirt. He was standing so that nobody could really see what was going on, but his fingers quickly found my panties (soaking wet, as you can imagine...) and pushed them to one side. My legs trembled and I caught onto the bar for balance as he shoved two fingers inside me, then three, and started to **** me with them roughly.
My breathing sped up. This was so ******* hot. There were people literally inches away from me who had no idea that I was being fingered, that I was about to *** and oh ****** it felt so good...
But the bartender was coming down the bar. What looked like a queue turned out to be a group that quickly dispersed and suddenly it was almost my turn...I thought the guy would stop, or at least slow down, but instead his pace quickened and his thumb began insistently to rub at my ****. I was getting closer and closer to the edge...
"What would you like?" the bartender asked. He was looking at me oddly, I could tell, but then I was panting and biting my lip - trying my hardest not to moan as I could feel the familiar heat pooling in my belly. I was about to ***, and *** hard.
"Two vodkas," I managed to get out, between clenched teeth. The barman turned round to get to the optics and I couldn't hold back any more - I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle a moan and came, trembling, my fingers white on the bartop. I felt the guy slide his fingers out of my *****, wiping them dry on the inside of my thigh, where I could feel the hot wetness reminding me of what had just happened - if my weak, trembling legs weren't enough.
By:
rosypeacock
Age:
22-25
,
Female
