The boy next to me kept eyeing me. He was probably twenty-five. Or, as my friend would say, twenty-fine. He had short brown hair and bright blue eyes....He ordered another shot from the bartender, and then gulped it down. He then swiveled over to me and said, "I'm Kyle. Do you want to dance?"I gave him a look and said, "Boy, I'm old enough to be your mama."And to that he replied, "You're too hot to be my mom."I was flattered so I stood up and he led me out to the dance floor. We danced for a. I raise one nipple towards my mouth, my tongue circling, wetting it as your tongue so badly wants to do. I come closer as if to offer, and you lean forward, but I step back, temptation and tease. My hands trail down my body to my skirt and underneath the waistband where they start to play with myself but you can’t see, only watch as listen as I moan and you can hear how wet I am. You raise a hand, but I smile; again you grip the arm of the chair, pushed almost beyond reason to feel me. I take. More

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