Pt 1 of a 2 part story …. Let me know what you think 
As much as I like men my own age, there’s something about an older man that really gets me going. I’ve recently been seeing a married guy in his late forties. We hook up maybe once or twice a month when he’s in town. I know very little about him, but what I do know is that he fucks me well.
Another great thing about being with him is that he never expects anything from me. That freedom lets me have as much fun as I want—and Steve actively encourages it. That’s the brilliant thing about older men: they don’t have a jealous bone in their body. They’re confident. Something about them just feels more grounded, more electric.
He messaged me the day before he came into town, as usual, and we agreed he would pick me up. I like to dress a bit slutty when I’m with him, so I put on a short skirt and a tight top with no bra, letting my perky young tits jiggle beneath the fabric. I know he loves the outline of my hard, dark nipples showing through the thin material. He loves it when I get attention from other guys—and I love playing into it. He always fucks me a bit harder when I’ve been teasing him.
He picked me up as planned, and I slid into the back of the Uber with him. We kissed passionately, and within minutes I could feel his large, thick cock straining against his jeans. His scent alone had my pussy pulsing in my knickers.
I was curious where we were going. He’d been on a late flight, so we’d missed dinner.
“We’re off to a new jazz club in town. I know how much you like dancing,” he smirked.
“What you like,” I shot back, smiling, “is seeing me dance. But you like watching me dance with other guys even more.”
The Uber dropped us at the club—some kind of underground bar we’d never been to. We went down the steps from street level and were ushered inside by a doorman.
It was a dark, intimate place, and we were greeted quickly by who I assumed was the owner. He seemed to know Steve; they shared a joke I couldn’t quite hear over the music. We were shown to the bar and perched on tall barstools. Straight ahead, a small dance floor held twenty or so people swaying to the music. I could instantly see why Steve chose these seats: he had the perfect view.
He called the bartender over and ordered a bottle of champagne. As he leaned in close to me, his hand slid up my thighs, his fingers grazing the warm, swollen lips beneath my sheer knickers. The touch sent shivers through me.
“I can see him wanting you already,” he murmured.
I followed his gaze. A tall, dark-haired guy—maybe in his thirties, almost Middle Eastern looking—was staring right at us.
I giggled, knowing exactly what Steve meant. I wasn’t dressed in a way that didn’t beg for attention.
“Can’t blame him, can you?” I said, gently stroking Steve’s ever-thickening cock through his trousers. “Look at me—I’m practically asking for it.”
I took a big gulp of my champagne and stood up. “I want to dance!” I said as I set my glass down on the bar.
“Enjoy yourself,” Steve said, grasping the back of my neck and kissing me in that way only he can. He slid his hand up the back of my short skirt, cupped my arse cheek, and gave it a playful slap. I laughed as I headed to the dance floor.
The floor was pretty full, so we were all pressed close. I kept myself in view of Steve so he could watch me doing my thing. I know he loves watching me enjoy the music.
I was having fun, and I started dancing with a guy. He was older than me, but I liked the feeling of his jeans against my arse. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me closer as the crowd moved around us. Gradually, we drifted through the bodies until we reached one of the walls.
I looked up and caught Steve’s gaze across the room. He was smiling, and we held eye contact as I lifted my thigh over the stranger’s leg, straddling it. I started to gyrate against him, my pussy grinding on his thigh, the fabric of my knickers already damp. All the while, I kept staring at Steve. I was practically riding this stranger’s leg—and Steve was loving it… |
