The Emerald Lounge was a place known for strong drinks and seduction. The lounge was a study in controlled decadence, all marble floors and leather furniture, lit by warm, sensual lighting, casting shadows in all the right places. The lights on the dance floor, though, were designed to capture everyone's attention and made the sweat and silhouettes of the dancers gleam. The bass in the room was a physical force, a deep thrum that vibrated through the soles of Ozias’s feet and up his spine. The muscularly framed Oz, as he was known, moved with the liquid confidence and graceful power of a panther. His presence claimed space on the dance floor.
Sheer-sided, black and gold trunks did little to conceal the formidable bulge and the dark, thick scar that traced a path down one powerful thigh. Neither bothered Oz; he wore it like a medal. Like a crown on his head, his high-top dreads swayed with his movements. The glint of his piercings, a nose ring and a gold stud earring, adorned his handsome face with round, high cheeks, full lips, and an impeccably groomed goatee.
He was lost in the rhythm, a mix of sultry R&B and dance tracks, when he felt the weight of a stare, not just a glance. He let her look for a moment before he turned his head and met her eyes with intensity. The predatory gaze came from a woman with light honey-toned skin and long, wavy brown hair. She was petite, maybe 5’0”, but she moved with a presence that belied her size. Each sinuous sway of her hips was an enticement only the most self-assured woman could execute. Her ruby halter dress was an impetus for seduction. The deep color was a flash of defiance under the dance floor lights, and the revealing double thigh-high slits were invitations to temptation, like easy access to a world of pleasure. The only thing subtle about her appearance was the gold bracelets that shimmered on her wrists.
Their eyes stayed locked on each other across the pulsing crowd. A slow smile spread across her lips, and Oz found himself gravitating to her, drawn by an invisible current. They fell into step together, dancing playfully. A silent dialogue was exchanged with their movements, skin skimming skin, drawing them closer together each time. If there was a question regarding chemistry, it was asked and answered. After a couple of songs, the heat between them had built up. Oz needed a drink, so he nodded his head toward the bar. Her hazel eyes were sparkling as she followed him.
At the bar, the noise receded some. They talked, their voices low, mixing with the clink of glasses. Their flirtatious laughter was a form of foreplay. The sexual tension was electric, a transaction of desire. When they returned to the dance floor, the playfulness was incinerated, replaced by raw sensuality. Their bodies pressed together, blending into one another.
She could feel the length of him pressing against her stomach through the thin fabric of their clothes as they danced. The heat between them was feverish.
Oz felt her arms wrap around his neck. He craned his head down to meet her soft-set, shapely lips with his. She kissed him back. Passionately, their tongues tackled each other. They broke from their kiss, and she leaned further into his body; she placed her cheek on his. Her breath hissed past his ear, her lips brushing the lobe before flicking her tongue over it. Oz’s throat tightened, and his heart hammered in his chest. Without further hesitation, he clasped her hand, captaining her off the dance floor. They passed through the hall with a golden glow.
He grabbed a foil packet from each bowl on the little table in the hall. They entered a room off in the corner, dimly lit and dominated by an emerald leather couch. It looked more like an altar than furniture. There was no door to close. It mattered not. Privacy here was an illusion, and that was part of the thrill.
She was on him, her mouth crashed against his. Greedy. She demanded his kiss, his tongue. Oz reciprocated the desire. He tossed the packets on the couch. He pulled her tight, his hands roaming the smooth expanse of her back. She pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap without breaking the kiss. Her hips undulated against Oz, a slow, deliberate friction that made his breath catch. Oz slipped his hands under the hem of her dress, his palms finding the soft flesh of her firm round ass.
He gripped her, pulling her down firmly against his cock. The thin barriers of their underwear only added to the sensation. The pressure forced her clit to drag along his length, she released an uninhibited moan.
Oz’s fingers found the knot at her neck and loosened the top of her ruby halter dress. The fabric whispered as it fell away, releasing her ample breasts. They were full and heavy. Her brown areolas with big round nipples tightened in the cool air. The scent of jasmine and honey ascended from her skin, stealing Oz's attention. Oz abandoned her lips, descending to the newly exposed flesh. He blew a warm stream of air across one tight peak before his tongue traced a slow, deliberate circle. He took her into his mouth, sucking with a firm, steady pressure. He grazed her with his teeth. He bit down lightly, just enough to make her gasp. Her hands buried themselves in the neat, springy coils of his locs, holding him to her.
Oz was settling into a rhythm of kissing and caressing her soft skin when she removed her breast from his mouth. Slowly she rose off his lap, and with her hands on his chest, she pushed him back against the couch. With deliberate slowness, her hands meandered from his chest to his waistband, then over his thighs and down to his knees. Then she pushed his knees apart and stood between his legs. She wanted his undivided attention, and she had it, which turned her on even more. Here began her conjuring performance. It was a seduction. The cadence of her curvy body was hypnotic to Oz. He slipped his hand into his trunks and stroked his cock, which was raging to be touched. He watched as she hooked her thumbs in the ruby fabric around her waist. While she danced, she shimmied the dress down over her hips. The ruby fabric collected at her feet like slippers, leaving her in only a pair of black lace panties and her gold bracelets.
Oz cast himself from the couch, pulling her against his body tightly for a deep, possessive kiss. Then, with one smooth motion, he spun her around and bent her over the back of the couch. His hands slid under the waistband of her black lace panties, dragging them down to her thighs. He gave her ass a decisive smack, causing a sharp noise to resound through the room. She let out a moan and looked back over her shoulder at him with a wicked smile. She was into it, and he loved it. His hand slid between her legs, his fingers easily parted her slick lips. She was already soaked. Oz moaned at this discovery. He worked two fingers inside her with a slow, deliberate curling motion, pressing against that sensitive spot deep within her. She pushed back against his hand, riding his finger and vocalizing her pleasure, but her body demanded more. Her hand scrambled for the condom on the couch next to them and reached back to hand it to Oz.
Oz shed his trunks, his heavy cock sprawling free. He rolled the condom on. It was a tight fit. The condom caused some ballooning of his shaft but didn't hurt and provided the stiffness he needed without an erectile implant. The urge to be inside her was a primal imperative, drowning out any thought of a better size. He grabbed the lube, the cold gel a shock against his fevered skin.
He also felt the cool sensation along the scar on his thigh before it centered solely on his cock. He coated himself, then spread the slick gel around her beautiful pink slit with his fingers. He gripped behind the head of his cock to keep it firm and pressed against her entrance.
It was a struggle at first. Oz was a lot to take, and he knew it. She arched her back more in response, opening herself wider for him. He loved how much she wanted him inside. The head breached, and she heaved out a ragged breath. Oz inhaled deeply through gritted teeth. He pushed forward, the rest of him charging home in a smooth stroke. He heard the breath race from beneath her ribs as her body welcomed him inside. The tight grip of her walls was a delicious pleasure. He reveled in how amazing his cock felt inside her.
Oz restrained himself and took it slow to allow her body to adjust to his size. She was so tight. He wouldn't move inside her until she was ready. He reached around her waist, his fingers finding her clit. He moved his fingers in a skilled motion with the proper pressure that commanded her body's response. Only when he felt her begin to relax did he start to move his hips, withdrawing slightly before driving back in. Her moans grew wild, her body unfurling for him. Oz was sliding in her chasm easily now, his strokes delivered harder, deeper, seizing all she offered. Her soft ass reverberated against his hips with every deep thrust. He felt voracious. With every stroke Oz delivered, her moans thundered around the small room, rivaling the music beyond the walls.
Before long the dynamic shifted. She was chasing her release, a primal need that consumed her. She was throwing it back on him, matching his thrust with her strong hips. He had to grip her waist to keep his balance. Oz stopped thrusting, letting her use him for her pleasure. She was ready to climax and wanted to take it. The way she took him deep, back arched, ass high in the air,
her clit kissed his balls with every bounce, drove them both wild. Her movements grew faster, her rhythm dissolved into a frantic, desperate grinding. Her legs trembled and shook, and a long, rolling moan was torn from her lips as she came.
The powerful convulsions of her velvet walls milked his cock, threatening to haul him over the edge with her.
Oz was throbbing at the base of his penis. He felt her orgasm and saw her secretions of pleasure around his cock. The experience of her incredible wetness was too much to bear. In a white-hot moment of pure instinct, Oz's restraint evaporated. He locked his hands on her hips, pounding into her softness, her warmth. She was shaking again, her inner muscles gripped him like a silk vise. The pressure and the increase in friction sent him hurtling over the edge. He came with a guttural roar, his body spasming with a deep thrust until he bottomed out inside her pulsing heat as her own climax plowed through her again.
After a few final, slow pumps, he withdrew. Both of them collapsed onto the couch. The silence that followed was thick and satisfying. A few moments passed before she grabbed a couple of clean towels from a shelf in the corner, handing one to him. Oz took off the condom and tossed it in the bin. He wiped the sweat from his chest and arms, then cleaned his cock before pulling his trunks back on. After she cleaned herself, she slipped back into her dress, and he helped her tie the halter behind her neck. Then they threw the towels in the laundry hamper and left the room. They sprayed the couch with disinfectant and wiped it down with paper towels for the next pleasure-struck couple.
At the bar, they ordered another round. They chatted, drank, and kissed. The energy between them shifted. The attraction was still there, but the tension was softer now. Oz felt the grit of the club on his skin, the smell of sweat and sex. He had fun, but there was no place like his own bed. He wanted a shower and to get home. He invited her to join him in the shower before he left. She just smiled, drained the rest of her drink, and sauntered to the dance floor.
Oz went to the locker room, showered, and dressed. Then he returned to the bar to pay his tab. She saw him, excused herself from the dance floor, came over, and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. They had gotten what they wanted. He gave her one last look and walked out into the night, leaving with a wonderful new memory. On the train ride home, he put his hand in his pocket and found souvenirs. She had slipped him a piece of paper with her username and her little lace panties. He smirked. A wonderful memory, indeed.
anyway idk does anyone have any advice?
