Nightclub Escapades Ch. 01

Dance-versions of classic rock hits blasted through the speakers and Jennie rocked alongside the drunk, high crowd on the dancefloor, grinding up against a tall, robust man she'd never seen before, laughing at the jokes he screamed in her ear (and which she couldn't hear), wrapping her arms around his neck as she lowered her body, pressing her breasts, barely contained in her low-neckline dress, against his engorged crotch.

An adrenaline rush overcame her, as a second man grabbed her from the waist, his crotch tightly pressed on her ass; the threesome danced under the loud music, bodies grinding and shaking, unheard jokes and introductions exchanged, shots of questionable tequila drained.

Her already petite figure was dwarfed by her two large dancing partners; yet for Jennie that was simply another turn on, yet another reason her heart was racing in her chest and her faintly dizzy mind was eager to take the next step.

"I'M GOING TO GET A DRINK!" She screamed at the top of her lungs to the men, who both nodded in confusion; she watched them from the counter—whereon she leaned deeply, offering the bartender a clear view of her cleavage—exchanging a look of confusion, before they scattered and found new dancing partners.

Jennie's Long Island Iced Tea arrived very quickly, while a group of guys in the corner still struggled to grab the barman's attention; she watched them with a faint smile, as they raised their hands and despairingly gestured. She shrugged and had a long sip of her cocktail, turning her attention back to the dancefloor, letting her gaze aimlessly wander about the large, alcohol-reeking nightclub.

Her friends were somewhere on the dancefloor, lost amid the sea of bodies; so were her two former partners, now tag-teaming another woman. Someone approached her, a stranger in a leather jacket and worn-out jeans, and with merely a smile slipped his hand under her dress, giving her cheek a good, sturdy squeeze.

Jennie leaped, caught by surprise, but, simply smiled back at the long-haired stranger; they clinked glasses—he was drinking straight bourbon—and continued to smile to one another, as word-exchange was rendered nearly impossible by the blaring music.

He, too, left in search for other company; Jennie once more alone, leaning on the bar with her drink in hand. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deep; still glancing about at all the sweaty, dancing bodies, the occupied booths with groups trying to communicate, shouting their lungs out and ending up not exchanging a meaningful word.

It was one of those nights she truly cherished, the anonymous nights of wordless flirting and communicating through dancing and body movements. She peeked back, the guys in the corner were still struggling to place their order, as the bartender—overworked as he was—always favored the woman that leaned over the bar to order, often enough letting her cleavage show more than "intended".

She drew a deep breath and with a broad smile, she approached them; they stopped signaling at the bartender, suddenly all of them fixing their stares at her in disbelief. She leaned over the bar and in manner of seconds, the bartender was asking for her order; Jennie let the guys take over, thus finally allowing them to have their coveted second round of beer.

Then, without a word exchanged, she walked away, feeling their stares piercing her back.

When she finished her drink, she went to the restroom; it was a shared restroom, with the left side for women and the right side for men. As she walked in, she noticed the staggering man standing at the urinal and her gaze fell down to his cock; she gave him a wink and a smile, when he looked up at her, then stepped into the stall and locked the door.

Only after she had relieved herself, and felt quite freer, did she notice the writing on the walls: cumslut; suck a cock, slut; cockslut; I love big dicks; Tracy was here, and sucked two cocks; etc. All written with black markers; and most of the phrases were written around the two holes on the walls, one on each side of the toilet.

Jennie wiped herself clean, lowered the lid, and sat on it with a sudden excitement rising within her; the dirty words on the walls, seemingly addressed specifically to her, urging her to stay and indulge in explicit acts, caused a wetness to rise down south.

She leaned back and pushed her dress off her breasts; she rubbed her nipples erect, while reading the various phrases and commands, her glance often moving to the holes, trying to notice any movement in the other stalls.

Doors were opening and closing, people were laughing hysterically and others yelled trying to top the blasting music; for a couple of minutes nothing had changed in the stall, which brought on a vast feeling of disappointment in Jennie's mind and pussy.

Jennie lifted her dress to her waist and began rubbing herself, determined to at least have an orgasm before returning to the dancefloor; she moaned heavily, as she fingered herself, biting her lower lip, drawing inspiration from the writing of others, who were encouraging her to "suck the cock, you filthy cockslut"... and then, as she continued fucking herself with three fingers, stretching herself out to a climax, a thick cock emerged through the hole, standing in attention, slightly tilted upwards.

She was taken aback, as she had never truly expected it actually to happen...she remained petrified staring at the throbbing cock and its protruding veins...countless thoughts rapidly crossed her mind, various voices battled inside of her...yet, in the end, her excitement and her near-orgasm state stood victorious, as she reached out and gently, and hesitantly, touched the cock; she twirled her fingers around the dark-purple head, ran them across the meat, down to its base...she helped the balls come through the hole too, giving them a tender squeeze and a soft massage.

The cock jerked and she smiled, watching the direct results her touches had on the faceless owner of the cock; suddenly, she realized the full extent of the anonymity thrill entailed in the situation. She did not know who was behind the wall, nor did the man know her...it was the coldest sexual transaction, just a living cock coming through the wall, hers to please (or even torment) according to her whims and desires.

Getting drunk on excitement alone, she bent forth and licked the head; she tasted salty sweat and manliness. She stroked the shaft slowly and wrapped her soft, full lips around the tip, twirling her tongue around it. The cock jerked violently, when she bit it gently, and Jennie's face brightened up with a wicked smirk; she then ran her tongue along the shaft, rubbing the balls together in her palm, and the man behind the wall seemingly relaxed once more.

She squatted deep and squeezed the shaft between her breasts, bending her head down so as to keep the tip in her mouth; she jerked her body up and down, her tongue sticking out, as she let the cock fuck her sternum. Her erect nipples rubbed against the rough, cold wall, sending more chills up her spine.

Jennie felt lost in the excitement of the situation, her mind emptied of all thoughts and worries; she was doing just what the words on the wall commanded her to, acting like a filthy cockslut, pleasuring the strange man, and merely the thought of her acting out like this got her pussy dripping on the dirty tiled floor.

She returned to blowing the faceless meat, taking it all in down her throat, gagging on the stranger; it was thick and filling her mouth up, making breathing hard. Yet, she didn't care, the seclusion of the locked stall door allowed her to feel freer than ever before, bringing out a nastier side of her, which only in daydreams and sex-chatrooms she had set free.

With the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a black, long rod dangling from the other hole behind her; a bright glint appeared in her eyes and her mind nearly turned numb. She reached behind her and took the newcomer in her hand, jerking him off, while still sucking and licking the other.

Jennie sat on the toilet lid, one cock in each hand and legs spread wide; they both throbbed under her fast, steady strokes, her grip tightly wrapped around the shafts. She gave long, wet kisses on both heads, licking the shafts, rubbing the balls...they were both slippery with her saliva and her wetness and overall excitement continued to grow with every passing minute.

Desiring something more, and feeling the inner need to please the two cocks with more than just a sloppy handjob, she rubbed the first cock on her pussy, squeezing it between her ass cheeks. Gently, she guided it inside of her; its girth stretched her pussy out and Jennie at first moaned deeply, when she took him deeper.

Balls deep, her ass against the dirty and cold metal, she bent over and took the black dick in her mouth; she began riding the man behind her, her ass slamming hard against the wall.

The black cock deep down her throat and the man began with short, hard thrusts to pound her mouth; Jennie could not believe she was actually in this position, bent over in a small, dirty restroom stall, split-roasted by two strangers...it was exactly this compromising position that made her climax hard, showering the cock with her cum.

And as her pussy contracted and her legs trembled violently under her hard orgasm, she felt the cock throbbing inside of her, suddenly shooting streams of hot cum deep inside her cunt; semen suddenly flooded her insides, which brought on a second orgasmic wave that numbed her legs, forcing her to grab the lid to maintain her balance.

The first cock pulled out quickly, leaving her slightly gaped and dripping cum; Jennie continued deepthroating the black cock, still bent over with her stretched out pussy on the hole eagerly waiting for the next taker.

Then, she turned around and rubbed the black cock's head on her dripping pussy; she pushed, lightly, the tip on her tight ass, moaning heavily on her own, as she teased the stranger. She jerked the stranger off for a little while longer, spreading her saliva on the shaft; then, she sat deep on the meat, nice and easy taking it in her ass, stretching her sphincters out.

The initial pain quickly subsided, as he went deeper inside of her than ever before, stuffing her ass unprecedentedly. Standing up, Jennie rode the black rod, with one hand rubbing her clit and with the other twitching and pinching her hard nipples; the man followed suit, thrusting too, going balls deep in her ass.

Jennie heard his heavy moans through the metal wall and a wide smile illuminated her face, as she continued riding him; it didn't take long for the man to succumb to her tightness and consequently shoot his load deep in her ass. Jennie came with him, her stomach contracting in violent orgasmic spasms as a river of jism flooded her ass.

A quick, heavy sigh escaped her mouth, when the stranger pulled out and before she could turn around for a final look, and perhaps a lick, he had vanished; Jennie thus remained standing in the stall, her dress lifted over her waist, her breasts hanging out, and her holes gaped and dripping cum.

There were no regrets, though, in her head, nor any feeling of shame...she sat back on the lid, to recuperate, as her legs had grown too weak to hold her up for long. She drew a few deep breaths, then opened the lid and took another leak, trying to pee out all the cum from her pussy she knew she'd have to stop at a drugstore before heading home, but, at that moment, all she really cared about was the potential emergence of more faceless cocks.

However, she did not wait for more than a couple of minutes; after all, she did not intend to spend the rest of the night locked in the stall. She wiped herself clean and fixed her dress, ensuring that she had stopped dripping—after all, not wearing underwear did have its disadvantages.

She came out of the stall faintly staggering, washed her hands and fixed her sex-hair; the young, blonde woman in tight leather pants and a tank top on the sink next to her gave her a meaningful wink and Jennie simply responded with an exhausted, satisfied smile.

Still feeling slightly sore down south, Jennie ordered a gin and tonic and had a good, long hit; then, she returned to the dancefloor, dancing with strangers, often getting tag-teamed by young, drunk students trying to cop a feel, while scanning the room trying to figure out to whom the two cocks belonged.