Fun on the dance floor

Daisy had come here to look for Sammie, but what she had behind her was starting to get distracting. Without a doubt, catching a glance of Sammie and her new friend (or were they old friends?) only made things better.

He was hard. And big, she could tell. She could feel it through the back of her dress as it pressed up against her ass. "It must hurt so bad," she said over her shoulder. It was so loud he might not have even been able to hear, but he didn't let that stop him from copping a feel. His big hand grabbed at her breast. The people around her were giving her dirty looks. They'd seen how recently they'd started dancing, and they were judging her. Whatever! She was away from her worries for the night, from the office, even from Mr. Johnson. As her linebacker friend kept touching her, she left even more of her worries behind. What Mr. Johnson didn't know, wouldn't hurt him.

With every last worry leaving her body, she reached back to feel the iron rod that kept poking into her back. Basketball shorts. Not quite up to the fashion standards of the rest of the bar, but as she grabbed hold of what was beneath them, she knew that beggars couldn't be choosers. With her eyes locked on Sammie and the frizzy blonde (who by now had both hands in each others' pants, too), she started to slide her hand up and down.

"You're good at that, baby," the linebacker shouted. She decided she didn't like his voice.

"Don't talk!" she said, and she let herself enjoy the feeling of a hard dick in her hand.