Dirty Dancing in DC

Darnell ignited a fire in me that I forgot I possessed. His body against mine felt devine. Elegantly sculpted, firm, young, agile. He laid lust and raw energy on my lips when he kissed me. I was so consumed by my desire for him that my hands found their way to his muscular glutes and up under his gray sweater, fighting, aching, desperate to feel the warmth of his flesh.

I suppose the lust between us was noticeable because a girl walked over to us and turned me around. “You two are so sexy,” she said, dancing on me, then placed a gentle hand on my shoulder hinting for me to bend over. I did not fight it and neither did he. She backed away and watched while I twerked on him and maintained eye contact with her. His erection bulged against my ass the entire time. She watched in approval. I grew more animal, craving his flesh, his affection.

When I finally turned back around to face him, I decided then and there – I had to know how it felt to touch him. Touch him for real. My hands ran from the back of his head down his sides. This pattern was familiar, but I didn’t go for his legs this time. I moved my hands to the front of his pants, over his firm abs then down the pants to catch with my fingers a little taste of his hardness from outside the clothes.

His cock echoed strong through the fabric, firm and lengthy. He sighed and looked at me. I could tell he wanted me. Later, I apologized for the violation. He’d been so polite, asking if he could kiss me and assuring me he was not a threat.

The only thing he wanted was more time. More time on the dance floor, time at his place, or time at mine, time in the bathroom if that’s the only place we could find. I was tempted to give in. Tempted to fuck him, but that night I got more than I came for. I got to reconnect with a part of myself that I’d been missing. I got to feel my desires run strong, and that was enough for me. Besides, I knew when I got home to my toys I’d make myself cum better than some stranger ever could.

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