Depends: What's his next move?

You may currently be losing all semblance of inhibition, but you still have no idea what you should do next, too **** to risk doing or saying something that might turn your mystery partner off. So, you just go along for the ride, letting him have his way with you.

You have to admit you are a little disappointed that he doesn't take the opportunity to use the exact lyrics of the song to state what he wants from you, but his continuing touch keeps you from being upset by any means. His mouth keeps busy switching between giving random little licks all along your flesh from your shoulder to your hairline, nibbling on your ear, biting and sucking at your neck, and kissing every square centimeter he can reach without you changing position.

The two of you add your own chorus to the song, a harmony of moans that only the two of you can hear. Yours change pitch more than his, his fingers playing you like a flute-- though he gets you to hit a few notes that convince you he could easily turn you from the elegant wind instrument into an eighteen-string guitar.

The song changes, as does your duet. His fingers pick up the pace, plunging inside you as deeply as they can manage. He actually drives a little cry of pain through your lips as he forces three fingers in your small hole roughly, all at once. If he notices, he doesn't act like it, pumping the digits as his thumb keeps your clit busy, his other hand mauling your tit with a vengeance.

In turn, you subconsciously pick up the pace with your grinding, hips going wild against his clothed cock. It isn't long until you two are fast approaching your crescendo.

You let out a whimper between moans as his body pulls back away from your hips. He doesn't abandon you, however, continuing his ministrations with his hands. While you really want to feel his body against yours again, you can't bring yourself to move away from the fingers giving you so much pleasure.

The sheer volume of the music covers up your cries of passion as he pushes you over the edge, finally moving back to you in order to keep you on your feet, your muscles threatening to fail you. Only after you dropped heavily back against his chest, your arms dropping limply to your sides did he move his hands, retracting both from under your clothing. You let out another quiet whimper as he pulled out of your pussy.

The colored lights glimmered off the fluids covering his hand as he brought it up towards your face. You watched it from the corner of your eyes as he held it next to your head. The exaggerated sounds echoing directly into your ear were designed to ensure you knew he was taking a taste.

"Mm..." He moved his hand, stopping right in front of your lips. "You should have a taste. It's something else." Without thinking, you immediately complied, licking his fingers with enthusiasm. You hadn't actually tasted yourself before; the thought never really crossed your mind. A part of you wondered if you should regret not having done so sooner, or if the fact that it's someone else presenting it to you that makes it so delicious.

His hand is soon spotless of your juice, the fluids completely replaced with your saliva. He chuckles, moving both hands to your hips again. You couldn't give less of a fuck that he's probably getting your dress all sticky with your spit right now.

"Sorry to leave you hanging for a bit there," he continues, voice deep and husky with lust. "You were just too much. Didn't want to make you wait, but if you had kept that up much longer, I was gonna pop." A little burst of pride flares inside you at the idea that you didn't totally fail for your first time having any sort of sexual contact with a guy. You easily allowed him to guide you away from the dance floor. "I didn't want to have to leave you so soon, and a mess down there would have ben an unfortunate end of such a fine night." You nod absently, willing to agree with just about anything in your current state. "Now, I'm taking us somewhere a little more private."