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E is for Exhibitionist

I know that you’re watching me. You’re mixed in with the crowd. It’s so easy to get lost here, especially if you’re trying, and I know you want to remain hidden so that you can observe. I thought about having a few drinks, or perhaps smoking a joint, and really letting my inhibitions go, but the truth is, the knowledge that you’re out there is all I really need to let loose. It’s our little secret, after all, that I get off on it. An exhibitionist, you said with a devious smile. Oh, that look, accompanied by the twinkle in your eye as you suggested we go out dancing or, to be precise, that I go down to the club and that, perhaps, you’ll follow. I can feel your eyes on me from time to time. It’s exhilarating. I’m pretty sure the guys think I’m flirting with them, but I’m not. I’m flirting with you, even though you’re invisible. You are the one I’m putting the show on for when I shake my ass and tits. You are the one who is making my snatch warm with anticipation. No matter what happens here tonight, it’s for your benefit (and mine); no one else matters.

I wait until the tempo is perfect, the music washing over me; a physical thing, almost. It’s warm in here. So many bodies. I can almost see the stream rising above the crowd, the colored lights turning it into halos over their heads. There’s a heady sensuality pumping from the speakers. The DJ must be feeling it too; every track she spins throbs erotically. I almost writhe on the floor, all my senses alive and heightened, drawing attention from several of the unattached males. Some of the girls too, although you’re the only girl for me tonight. I let a slow, sultry smile grow while I admire one of the guys. He’s rides straddles the fence between surfer and a frat boy. We lock gazes and I extend the tip of my tongue, running it slowly over my lips. It’s all the invitation he needs.

We don’t exchange words. The music is too loud for more than the most basic of communication. Besides, I’m not here for the conversation. We dance. Or it might be more appropriate to say I dance for him, swaying my hips, turning slowly, giving him a good look at my tight body. When I’m sure he’s hooked, I simply turn my back to him and wait until I feel him pressing against me from behind. Grinding is much too crude a word, but in essence, it’s what is happening. I shape my mouth into words, too soft to be heard. Touch me. Feel me. You’re still nowhere to be seen, but I feel your hungry gaze upon me. Imagination, perhaps, but it feels very real. It’s no longer him I’m dancing for, it’s you. Just that realization makes me wet. I can feel the seam of my skin tight jeans pushing the thin cotton of my panties between my outer lips, knowing that if I was to take off my pants, there’d be a tell tale dark strip. I’m damp. Moist might be more appropriate. It’s not helping that I feel his hands caressing my hips.

My tight cotton tee is purposefully short, my jeans low, leaving an inviting bare strip of flesh from just above my mound to just above my navel. That’s where his hands settle, stroking, each time growing bolder as his fingers tease across my tummy and slightly under my shirt. I don’t object. Nor do I protest when his fingers find my hipbones and follow them downwards, smooth, slightly callused tips raising goose bumps on my flesh and sending delightful shivers into my most sensitive places. I’d been damp before, but this, knowing how far I’m willing to take it, has me positively wet.

I feel him pause, knowing what he’s thinking; will he blow it if he doesn’t stop now? I let my head lull back and twist slightly. I’m not sure if he can hear my moan of desire. Perhaps he just feels it, but it’s enough to lure his hands into my jeans and under the waistband of my panties. I shudder, my eyes clamping shut as I feel the urge rise up into me. My nipples ache. I take a peek, noting with satisfaction how obvious they are, poking through the thin cotton. I wonder if you’re touching yourself while you watch. Playing with your pussy while mine is played with. Or about to be.

I’m not sure when my hips begin to rock as well as sway. If I moved a little faster, I could easily keep a hula hoop in play. I’m so far gone. Lost in the music, the notion of you watching as he slips his hands over my smoothly shaved mound, fingertips brushing just above my throbbing little nub of pleasure. My breathes are more like gasps, constantly interrupted by sensations such as fingers tracing along the puffy edges of my cunt and then withdrawing, sliding slowly from my jeans.

I almost voice a complaint. Almost. Let’s see where this goes. I’m not disappointed as he teases the button free. I inhale sharply, sucking very little air into my lungs as I feel my jeans loosen, his fingers already toying with the zipper key. Will he pull it down quickly or slowly, I wonder. I am half mad with lust now, wondering where this is going. This is for you. I am just going along for the ride, giving up control and letting go of the last of my inhibitions.

I feel him tense and pause, causing me to open my eyes, unable to recall the moment I’d closed them. We’re being joined. Another guy, as dark as the one is light, and devilishly handsome, his smile gleaming with confidence as he reaches out and runs the backs of his knuckles over my cheek. I shudder, lips parting as I wet them with my tongue, an obvious invitation. He grins, tracing my cheek bones, my jaw, my throat, and finally, my collarbone. It’s getting harder to concentrate as I sense my zipper being slowly undone. The guys have reached some sort of unspoken consent to share me. The very thought floods my pussy with warmth and liquid. Is this what you wanted? To watch me be ravished in public? I hope so. After all, it’s what I realize I want more than anything else; to be fucked by these two strangers while you watch. The thought makes me moan loud enough to be heard, apparently, as my newest partner chuckles, his lips moving soundlessly. My eyes widen, my brows lifting in question. He just shakes his head and moves his hands down to my breasts, cupping them, the pads of his thumbs rubbing my already hardened nipples through the material of my shirt. I simply surrender, biting my lip with anticipation as my zipper reaches the end of its path. My only regret is that he blocks your view of my soaking wet panties.

Still dancing, I relish my new role as plaything, aware that you’re not the only one watching me being slowly exposed. A ring of onlookers dance around us, trying not to be obvious and failing. This is what I’d hoped for, to be honest. While this is for you, it’s for them as well. And for me. I want all eyes to feast upon me. I want to be the object of desire for their lust. Only a very dirty girl would let this happen to her. I want to be that girl and I want you to witness it.

I’m barely aware of my top being removed other than I lift my arms to make it easier. I’m glad I didn’t bother with a bra. The air, though warm, feels cool against my exposed tits. I groan as one aching nipple is rolled roughly between thumb and forefinger. I gasp out your name, but once again, it’s drowned out by the music.

I am aware of my jeans being roughly pushed down my hips, however, my heart skipping a beat as I feel my panties going with them. Is this really what I want? Have I let them go too far? I feel naked, not just physically. Glancing around I see a mixture of expressions; lust, envy, even discomfort. And then, I find your face at last. Pride mixed with hunger, your smile full of wicked warmth as you watch me step out of my jeans and kick them aside, my gaze fixed upon your eyes, your nod and mine almost in tandem, freeing me, permission granted.

“I want to be fucked,” I mouth, more for your benefit than for either of my partners. I close my eyes, still smiling, shaking with need as I feel confident fingers stroking my snatch, one sliding between my swollen lips as warm fluids lead down the insides of my thighs. It’s too late to stop now, not that I would, even if I could.

“Fuck me.” This time more forceful, the words almost cut off as two thick fingers push inside of me, curling up into my cunt, thumb pressing against my swollen clit and rubbing it until I can’t breathe.

“Yes,” I hiss, feeling fumbling behind me and then, one arm around my waist from behind. I can imagine what’s going on, even if I can’t see. He’s unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers, his erection - his cock – springing out, thick and meaty as he presses it between my cheeks. And I don’t have to imagine that. I feel it, the head thick and smooth as he rubs it against my ass, coaxing me to push it out invitingly, pushing on my shoulders, bending me forward far enough so that he can press it against my eager pussy and then grabbing my hips and sinking it deep inside of me. I clench as I feel fingers in my hair, pulling me down until I’m bent in half. Opening my eyes, I’m surprised by the sight another cock, this one slapping against my cheek, then my lips. I gasp as I am filled from behind, my mouth open wide, wet and inviting, then closes again, engulfing the swollen head of his member as I grab his hips to keep my balance.

I wish I could see myself through your eyes. Maybe, and the thought both scares and excites me, you’re filming me, using your camera phone to capture every detail of my defilement, capturing the expression on my face as I feel hips slamming against my ass, his cock deep inside me, splitting me, pumping to the beat of the music while I relax my jaws, allowing another cock to slowly disappear into my mouth, drool running down my chin. I feel like I’m going to explode with pleasure. You never set any rules. You never do when we play our little game, and yet, I don’t want to come. I search you out, fighting the distraction of overpowering pleasure as I am spitted upon their cocks, catching a quick glimpse of you, your hand hidden inside your jeans, teasing yourself as you watch me, our eyes meeting for a moment and then, yours rolling back. My eyes are drawn downwards as you buck your hips, fingers working furiously inside your snatch, pushing yourself over the edge, unseen by any but me. After all, I am the center of attention.

I feel the cock inside me, the one stuffing my pussy, twitch and swell and suddenly, he’s grasping my hips and stiffening as he blows his load inside me. I can actually feel it; thick ropes of cum filling me. It’s almost enough to set me off. I glance towards you, hoping for permission, but you’ve disappeared back into the crowd. My cry of frustration is muted by the meaty prick between my lips. I wanted you to see me come. Clenching around the softening cock inside me, I will myself not to climax, even as my mouth is filled with cum. I do my best to swallow it all, but it’s too much. It oozes out around his thick cock and down my chin, staining the dance floor. Suddenly, I feel the warm glow of humiliation burning in me. I feel myself coming down from my sexual high. I’m naked. There’s cum dripping down my chin and down the backs of my thighs. All eyes are on me. Gathering my clothes as quickly as I can, I struggle into them, not caring that my shirt is on backwards and inside out, and flee the club. Catching a cab, I escape back to your place, shivering in the back seat and all the way to your front door, knowing that my reward won’t come until you have my wrists and ankles bound with leather and tied to the corner posts of your bed, helpless as you watch me writhe, begging you for release, knowing that the night has only just now begun…

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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©2010 Sprite. The stories linked to this online profile may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author.

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