I‘d seen her almost immediately; dancing with two friends and ignoring the persistent affections of a couple skinny white boys. Of course she would; she was perfect; she wouldn’t go in for that.
She wasn’t classically pretty; she wasn’t tall or blonde and didn’t have big breasts or an hourglass figure. But she was sexy. The way she moved; the way she carried herself…
She was very petite, a little over 5 feet even in sleek black heels, with pale skin that gleamed like electrum in the umbra of the club and gorgeous, bright green eyes. She wore her hair in a cascade of pale cinnamon and chocolate, tied up so that her fringe, which she was growing out, framed her pixie-like face.
I watched her dancing for a while, mesmerised, until she eventually glanced over to where I sat and our eyes met. I held her gaze for a split second before she looked away bashfully and I felt the familiar stirring in my loins that white chicks always give me. She twirled away but looked back again and a flicker of a smile crossed her face.
I nodded to my boy Deon and stepped onto the dance floor, pushing my way through the press of undulating bodies as I made my way toward her. The throng ebbed and flowed around me so I had fleeting, strobe-like glimpses of her as I approached; painted red nails, sculpted legs in tight black jeans and a low-cut, sequinned black vest top that did little to hide the rise and fall of her modest breasts as she danced.
Fuck! I could feel myself getting hard already.
I moved over, shoving a couple frat boys out of the way and eased behind her, falling into her rhythm, pressing against her ass as she danced.
Thinking I was one of the bothersome white boys, she turned around with a scowl on her face. She opened her mouth to say something but her expression softened when she saw me and she smiled instead. Something – excitement perhaps – flared to life in her green eyes and she began dancing again, turning on her heel and grinding her ass enticingly into me.
I put my arms around her slender waist and pressed my stiffening cock against the soft mound of her ass.
As we danced she reached down with her tiny hand and accidentally brushed the length of my cock. She started at the feel of it and looked up at me over her shoulder.
A delightfully hungry gleam was in her eyes.
“My name’s Deke,” I said, leaning close. “Feel like a drink?”
“Betty,” she said, her breath on my neck. “Sure.”
I smiled down at her, grasped her hand and led her to the bar…
I ordered us drinks and we found an empty booth. I sat down and she slid in opposite me.
We talked and flirted and drank our drinks, and by the time we’d finished I was so ready to fuck her my cock practically ached.
I got us more drinks and sat back down.
“How much do I owe you?” She asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, but after a beat, added: “You can always pay me back later.”
Betty giggled and took a sip of champagne. The look on her face told me everything I needed to know.
The conversation was smooth and flirtatious; her body language making it abundantly clear she was into me, and slowly we got a little drunk.
“You want another?” I asked after a while.
“You’re gonna get me drunk,” she mock-scolded, but her eyes told me she wanted me.
I laughed and stood up to go back to the bar, but a hand clamped companionably down on my shoulder.
“Deke!” A loud voice exclaimed above the thumping music!
I smiled at the tall black guy grinning down at me and he leant over and d****d his arm around me.
“Deon, this is Betty,” I said, introducing them. “Betty… Deon. Deon is my boy. I should warn you that we do everything together.”
“Hey,” Deon greeted warmly, turning on the charm. “Not quite everything Betty, don’t you worry,” and the two of them laughed.
“It’s nice to meet you, Betty; I hope you’re taking good care of him. Can I get you two a drink?”
Betty nodded enthusiastically and Deon left us. As he headed to the bar he tossed me a wink and did a piss-poor job of hiding his grin.
I sat back down, this time beside Betty and a little while later Deon returned with drinks. We talked for a bit and got to know her better; she was 28, neatly 29 and lived with with her best friend and their cat. She had a sister and two brothers, and had a degree in history, but she’d never done anything with it and had a job working for a law firm.
Deon told her a little about me and shared a few details about himself, but he didn’t stick around and less than ten minutes later he excused himself again, leaving Betty and I alone in our dark little corner of Excess.
I looked at her closely in the muted darkness: She wasn’t completely trashed, but she was well on her way and as I looked at her she leant over and kissed me on the cheek.
“What did I do to deserve that?”
She shrugged and giggled, so I put my arm around her and drew her close. As I pulled her to me her sequinned top shifted for just a moment and I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath.
She looked up at me coyly, as if reading my thoughts, her face half hidden by the shadow of her fringe.
“So what exactly was it that I felt in your pants out on the dance floor?” she asked. “It felt…”
“Large?” I finished for her with a laugh, and taking her hand, added: “Something like this?”
She didn’t try to stop me and didn’t hold back, just sucked in her breath involuntarily as she felt the coiled shaft of my cock resting against my thigh.
She cast a furtive look around to ensure no one was looking and slowly ran her delicate hand along its length. When she got to the tip so paused and squeezed gently and then traced her fingers back up to my crotch where she cradled my balls.
She was so close to me now that I could feel her heartbeat.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It’s so thick. It’s absolutely huge!”
She looked around again, double-checking we were alone.
“Can I – I mean, I really want to…”
“Go ahead, girl,” I nodded, and she practically groaned with delight.
She shifted slightly, affording us a modicum of privacy and caressed my shaft through the fabric of my pants, oohing in wonder as my cock responded and began to stiffen in her grasp.
I could feel her heartbeat start to race.
She slid her hand across and unzipped my fly…