Wistful memories of a night at the club [M/F] | 2016

I actually went through the trouble of typing this all out the other day, so I thought I might share it with a broader audience. I'd certainly love to hear if there are any ladies out there that appreciate it.

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When I was 21 or so and very sexually inexperienced -- more or less still on the level of a teenager -- some friends gathered in a group to go to a dance nightclub. A friend of a friend -- someone I knew but didn't know all that well -- came with the group. We'll call her "Amy."

"Amy" wasn't the best looking girl, but she wasn't ugly. She was bordering on overweight; dancing that fine line that separates curvy and desirable with chubby and dumpy. Her face had very feline features; sharp canine teeth hidden beneath her thick lips. Curly dark hair.

But I'll always remember what she was wearing that night, so many years ago: tight, black pants that hugged her round ass, and a leopard print top with a very, very deep plunging-v neckline. She didn't have a lot of cleavage, though, and that's because it was apparent from the outline of her nipples through the fabric that she wasn't wearing a bra.

The night progressed. I didn't drink much back then so I can't remember if I even had any (or if I was even quite legal yet). We hung out. We danced. The group eventually sort of broke up. I ended up on the dance floor. And somehow, at some point, I ended up partnered and dancing with Amy.

Amy had a boyfriend at the time, but he didn't come along. The rest of our group was who knows where; we were alone in a sea of bodies on the dance floor. The music was thumping. She turned away from me and as we danced, she started to grind more and more against me.

And that's when I started to get very, very hard. As relatively inexperienced as I was, this wasn't something that I was used to happening. Despite being a raging ball of testosterone back then (well...I suppose I still am, but I digress), I was typically able to handle myself and keep it together. But not tonight, not as Amy grinded into my crotch on the dance floor. My cock became absolutely stiff.

And she could feel it.

And she didn't stop.

I grew harder and harder, and it only seemed to encourage her. Every once in a while, I would turn her around to face me for a moment, as we danced, so I could look over the front of her body again. I didn't touch her anywhere outside of her hips or waist, despite desperately wanting to feel those bouncing, braless tits; she did have a boyfriend, after all. But after a few moments, she'd turn right back around, and grind her ass and her pussy up against my cock again, feeling my hardness pressing up against her. Not only did she not mind, she liked it.

How long we were like that is a blur to me now. I do remember that as our group gathered to leave, the two of us were alone again, waiting for everyone else. I was sitting on a stool, and she came up and again, facing away from me, started to grind against me as we waited. I was instantly hard again, feeling her press against my cock, giving me a lapdance with our friends ready to walk up any moment.

And that was it. I ended up having to drive a very drunk friend home, so we were separated. When we got back to our rendezvous, Amy had been dropped off already, despite asking me for a ride home once we'd gotten there. I will always wonder what she would have done, what we would have done, had we been in a car alone together. I suppose that night counts as wistful regret for me. To this day, I still fantasize about what I could have done, what I should have done. If I'd been a little more bold...if I'd simply reached up and felt her up, felt her breast through the thin fabric...maybe pinched her hard nipple just a little bit. If I'd run my hand down the front of her pants while she was grinding into me...rubbed her slit while she felt me against her on the dance floor. Maybe I'd have slipped my hand inside her pants -- I can't imagine she was wearing any underwear -- felt her warm pussy, moist for my cock. Maybe taken her to the bathroom, or a secluded part of the club, and pulled her shirt down off of her shoulders, exposing her tits in the dark. Thinking about her soft lips wrapped around my cock...thinking about what it would be like to cum on her tits. To peel her pants down and slam my cock deep inside her...but it's all fantasy, now.

We never really saw each other after that. Ran into her at a restaurant once, randomly. We're facebook friends now, years later. She's married with kids. We chatted a couple of times. She brought up that night, actually, said she thought it was the last time we saw each other. That was all that was said about it, but I like to think that maybe she still thinks about what could have been. Maybe that's why she brought it up. Maybe, she thinks about feeling my rock hard cock pressed up against her on the dance floor...thinks about unzipping my jeans and pulling it out and stroking me until I cum down her neckline. That she still gets wet and plays with her pussy now, years later, like my cock is so stiff thinking about her now.