Pretty in Pink

The music was loud, its beat relentless, and I rocked my body to the fierce tempo as slashes of color from the club's flashing lights striped my figure. I knew he was watching. I saw him admiring me with a lustful stare that emboldened me. I let the music carry me toward him, toward the inevitable.

We didn't exchanged names, only smiles, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and we began to sway in time to the thumping rhythm. The friction of our dance teased my nipples into sensitive little points that craved even more contact. I ground my hips against his, feeling the firmness of his swollen cock—the promise of so much pleasure. I pressed my lips to his and moaned when he teased the tip of my tongue with his own. His hands roamed over my back, stroking my exposed flesh as his fingers wandered into the slit in the back of my silky fuchsia blouse.

I spotted the entrance to the ladies' room and urged him back toward it. We slipped inside and headed to the last stall. I pushed him up against the tiled wall and reached for his jeans. I gazed into his chocolate-brown eyes as I unzipped his pants, feeling my mouth water in anticipation. I peeled back the denim and gasped when I saw the cotton-candy pink lace panties stretched tight over his cock. It was so perfect and pretty, and all for me.

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