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The dance floor was crowded, swollen with anerotic jostling of squirming loins and legs and asses. Angie had beendancing almost nonstop for the last two or three hours. She loveddancing–it made her feel so alive, so sexy. It was dancing that let herexpress all the latent urges and frustrations that smoldered beneath thesurface of her seemingly calm and self-confident appearance. She letherself go on the dance floor as she did nowhere else, sensuouslywrithing her hips and buttcheeks in their flesh-hugging trousers withthe rhythmic abandon of a well-trained belly dancer. In fact she hadtaken belly-dancing lessons for a few months. But, like so many of herfleeting fancies, that one had soon fallen by the wayside. At last the hot, urgent number that had been throbbing on for the lastfifteen or twenty minutes, hypnotizing the dancers in their own privatefervor of rock ecstasy, came to an end. Though Angie knew that herforehead was beaded with a light film of sweat, that her throat. I had just sent him a hot, nasty, sexy video and it appeared to have an effect on him. I waited, hoping I would be able to be alone with him tonight, but knew it wasn’t very likely. The waiting, the anticipation, was terrible. The unspoken, unspeakable desire. I wanted Jon’s dads big, strong, hairy hands on my body, I wanted him to make me cum like only he could. I wanted his thick, hairy cock and balls on my face and in my mouth. I wanted to taste and smell his manly, thick, white fluid. Hours had had gone by since he, his wife and Jon had gotten home. Those hours seemed like days, not knowing if i’d get to be alone with him again, that night or any night really. It was late when I heard him say he was going to do some work in the garage. My heart skipped a beat when my phone buzzed. It was him saying to meet him out there. My pulsed raced with nervous, built up sexual desire. I waited and made sure his wife had gone to bed and that my friend, Jon was getting in the shower. I almost.
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