Chantal Rose, you had never been to this club, one of Montreal’s notorious swinging clubs on rue de Frontenac.
In anticipation of the evening, you are wearing your close fitting red dress with a plunging neckline that showed the freckles in the valley between your breasts. A golden belt accentuates the firm tummy and sensual curves that drive men wild.
As the club door swung close behind you hesitate. Your eyes take a minute to get use to the darker interior of the room. The room was reasonably full for an early evening, a good mix of couples and singles, some on the dance floor swaying seductively against each other, others lounging at the bar, the rest taking it all in at one of the many tables and chairs scattered around the dance floor.
You walk to the bar, aware of the many eyes, male and female that are on her. Your awareness of these appraising eyes, encourages you to walk slowly, sway your hips, to put a bounce in your step so your breasts move under the shimmering material of your bodice.
At the bar, you perch on a barstool, sitting on the edge of the seat with one leg on the bar rail the other foot resting on the lower rung of the stool.
I’m at the end of the bar, but you are still scanning the darkened room searching for my face and don’t notice me.
I motion the bartender over, give him my order.
A glass of champagne appears at your elbow. The bubbles rise in a steady stream to the surface and burst. You pick up the glass and in the corner of your eye you see me. You lift the glass in toast towards me and take a small sip. The bursting bubbles tickle the end of your nose and the smooth golden liquid puts a smile on your face and I smile in return, lifting my refreshment to my lips.
The music in the room is all invasive and you find your body swaying to the music. Crossing your legs at the knee, you swing your foot to the beat, your shoe dangling and turn on your seat to take in the dancers on the floor.
A stranger comes up to you, asks you to dance and offers Kartal Escort his hand. You take it in yours, jump off the stool and head to the dance floor. On the floor, the music changes to a deep rhythmic salsa beat that encourages you to lift your arms over your head as you sway your hips. Your long hair falls down over shoulders, hides your face. Your partner steps behind you, puts his hands on your hips, matches the thrusts of your hips with his. He rests his head on your shoulder and nuzzles your neck under your fallen tresses. You respond to his touch, push back into him, find him erect and nestle him between the cleft of your ass. You throw your head back, take his hands in yours and move them from your hips upwards so four hands cup your breasts, feeling the hard points of your nipples as they strain against your red dress.
You lean back further and I see your lips brush against his ear as you speak to him. All he does is nod his agreement and you take one of his hands in yours and start to walk to the rear of the club. As he follows you he glances over to the end of the bar and catches of the eye of another man standing there and nods his head. The second stranger sets his drink on the bar and starts to follow as you disappear past the curtains into the back lounge. As soon as he parts the curtains I set my glass down and walk across the dance floor, eager to see what is going on.
The room past the curtains was just as dimly lit as the dance floor. Only this room’s floor had a series of couches, divans, daybeds and most of them were occupied despite the early time of the evening.
I had just cleared the curtain in time to see you lower yourself onto a low divan. Your dress has ridden up your legs showing shapely inner thighs and hinting at the fact that you were not wearing any panties.
Your two suitors take position in front of you, looking down on you as you lean back on the divan. I see the soft smile on you face as you look up at them and your hands reach up and tug the Pendik Escort opening of your dress apart, revealing a soft lavender bra, cupping your breasts in soft purple lace. Eyes still searching upwards, you reach up between your trapped breasts, undo the single clasp, setting them free. Your nipples are just a shade or two darker than the delicate colouring of your breasts and they are starting to darken rapidly as they start to crinkle and tighten. You lean backwards, putting your arms behind you so you can rest on your palms and this offers your breasts up to your audience. Enticed by this offering both of them reach down and take a nipple in their fingers, tug on them, twist them and I see them respond their to their touch.
A soft moan escapes your lips as you lean your head back, letting your hair fall over your shoulders, hang from the nape of your neck. Your eyes close as you enjoy the tugging and pulling of your nipples, the small jiggles of your breasts as they are cupped, held and squeezed.
Opening your eyes, you see your two suitors have released their erections from their pants. Both of them, aroused, uncircumcised, bobbing up and down, aimed at you.
Leaning back into the cushions you reach up, take a hard cock in each of your hands. They are both large enough that your fingers hardly wrap around their warm, hard stiffness. You shift you grip to the very tip of their cocks and squeeze the bulbous tips hidden under the skin caps. Your fingernails trail down the shafts, to their balls, nestled in dark thatches of hair. Heavy balls in each of your hands. Four of them full, warm and heavy. Your hands retrace their path upwards along their engorged cocks, until you reach the tips, then squeezing gently, you roll the foreskins back seeing the swollen purple crowns. Having exposed the tender tips, you wrap your hands just below the lip and start a slow rhythmic short stroke, caressing the underside lip of the head. The cock heads swell to gigantic proportions.
In appreciation, they Göztepe Escort renew their attentions to your breasts, squeezing, tugging, pulling, twisting and your nipples respond in kind. Now they are dark, dark red tips on the ends of your breasts. Punctuation points on the ends of your now puffy areolas. Contrasting against the paler skin of your breasts, framed by the pulled open bodice of your red dress, resting on the discarded lace cups of your lavender bra.
I’m watching your face as you pay close attention to your dance partners. Your eyes are so intent as you see both sets of hot, warm, full balls start to rise and you increase the tempo of your strokes. In anticipation, the two men let go of your breasts and your arm movements make your nipples trace small figure 8’s in the air as your full breasts jiggle.
Suddenly the man with your left thrusts his hips forward and I can see the first spurts fly into the air. For me time stands still as I see the sudden look of surprise cross your face, but you are all smiles as the warm cum splatters across your breasts. You keep milking his cock and the final drops dribble from his slit and down your fingers and get spread over his now diminishing cock as you slow your strokes.
Now you can focus on the man on your right and you increase your strokes, going from short quick strokes to longer, lingering ones and he starts to move his hips in time. He groans and pushes his body close to you and you pull his cock down to between your breasts.
He cums. Hot cum. Gobs of cum.
Now you have rivulets of cum running down the valley between your breasts. A large drop of cum travels from the top of your breast to hang from your engorged nipple. Both of your hands are sticky.
You stand up from the divan and brush past the two men. You pull your bra cups back up and dark lavender wet marks show where your breasts and nipples have cum on them. The bodice of your dress pulls together, hiding the messiness on your chest and you come up to me.
I lean down and kiss you and find your tongue between my lips, looking deeply into my eyes.
Breaking our kiss, our noses touch.
“Prenez-moi l’amoureux à la maison. (Take me home lover),” escapes your lips in a soft breath.
“Oui mon belle,” and I take your hand.