Dances with James

Mrs. Melba brushed her daughter away, apparently not recognizing her in the clothes she was wearing and the low-lights of the dance floor. She pressed against me and immediately felt my stiff prick between us.

“James, what have we here?” she said and ground her hips against mine, rolling my prick between her dress and my shirt. “Was that little slut playing with your dick on the dance floor?” she asked. My dick throbbed heavily between us and I didn’t think I needed to offer any answer beyond that. I could smell the tequila on her breath and I could only think that she’d been doing shots.

“Well, Mrs. Melba…” I started to say. Her hand reaching my cock cut me off.

“I think you can call me Sally,” she said, her eyes looking up into mine as her thumb rounded my sensitive head. “What shall we call this guy here?” she said and made a slow, tender stroke.

“Uh,” I stammered, feeling pre-cum slide down the thick fleshy mushroom.

“How about we call him, ‘mine,’?” she said and started stroking faster.

“How about we call him ‘Syd’s going to fucking kill me if he finds out,” I offered, but my dick bobbed heavily in her hand, making her giggle.

“Why don’t you worry more about what I want to do instead of what he might do,” she said with a lustful twinkle in her eye. She started stroking faster, her hand open and half my dick was being massaged by her skin, the other half by her loose dress.

“How about it?” Sally asked. “You’ve been staring at these tits for years, James. Want to see them? Want to see them right now?” she asked, speeding up her strokes. We started grinding harder to the music and I could start to feel her pussy juice and heat on my thigh as I slipped it between her legs. She moaned and bit her lip playfully. “Or maybe you have something else in mind?” she said, that devilish twinkle intensifying.