Go dancing

House music booms out across the light-swept dance floor. Young and beautiful people crowd around the standing tables and pack the dance floor, their half-clothed bodies jeweled with sweat and grinding together to the music.

Brad arrives from the bar with your drink, a fruity concoction that will hopefully quench your thirst after your workout at the museum.

"Were these clubs always this loud?" you shout to your husband.

"Our hearing might just be more sensitive in our old age," he says, and give you a playful pat on the butt.

You may be older than most of the twenty-somethings on the dance floor, but you would put your body up against just about any of them. Just as you are thinking that, a girl with huge, bare breasts covered in gold paint walks past carrying a drink. She has feathery angel wings on her back.

"I think I'm over-dressed," you say to your husband. Feeling your wild side, and maybe a bit of the surprisingly potent drink he brough tover, you lift your blouse up and over your head. The men at the tables around you immediately fix their gaze on your heavy breasts supported by the lacy underwire.

"You're bad," Brad laughs.

You kiss him and pull him onto the dance floor. It takes a bit to get into the groove, but your body seems to remember how to bump and grind to this sort of house music. You press your ass against his hardness and roll your hips. You work yourself into a sweat, turning, pressing your buzzing mound against his leg and fucking against him. He kisses your breasts. The music fades out, ending with a burst overhead and a rain of glitter that coats your topless body. You blink the shimmering particles from your eyes. Brad brushes piles of it from his shoulder.

"I think I need another drink," you confess.

You saunter back to your table, all the stolen glances from men making your nipples become harder and more sensitive, your pussy wetter and more eager to be fucked. As you wait for Brad to bring you another drink you spy a familiar person on the dance floor.

It's Marumi, your half-Japanese college roomie and old friend. It's been a while since you've seen her. She looks amazing, her petite body showed off in a cropped version of a school girl's uniform, complete with knee-socks, pleated skirt, uniform shirt and sweater vest. She spins on the dance floor and you catch a flash of her pale ass divided by a wedgied pair of pink cotton panties. She has a Little Kitty backpack on her back. She turns back around.

A pink streak runs through the black hair that frames her pixie-cute face.

She's wearing bright pink lipstick and extremely long, fake eyelashes.

You catch her attention with a whistle and wave her over.

"Marumi, oh my god!" You embrace, her much smaller chest crushed against your glitter-sprinkled nakedness. You kiss her on the cheek.

"Becca!" She gives you a lipstick smooch on your mouth. She doesn't hesitate to grab your breasts. "Your boobs are amazing. Did you have work done they are sooooo huge!"

"All natural," you beam as she squeezes them and tests their weight. You try not to betray the warm pulses of pleasure you feel as her hands brush your sensitive nipples.

"Oh, shit, wow! Brad, you're here too?" Marumi spots your husband.

She exchanges a long look with your husband, who has just returned with your drink. You snatch it from his hand and take a long, refreshing sip through the straw.

"We're celebrating our anniversary," he says. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know me," she says, which is odd, because Brad really doesn't know her. "I'm just looking for some fun tonight."

You finish your drink quickly and, at the start of a new, pounding beat, you and Brad and Marumi all hit the dance floor together. Packed into the intensity of the crowded dance floor you grind between your husband and your old roomie. What begins as laughing and playful gains in intensity. You stare into her eyes as you grind against her thigh, pressing your wetness against her so hard she surely feel it. You kiss her, awake after all these years to the possible pleasures of another woman. Your hands rove down to her cute little butt, pulling her against you. She kisses your breasts. Brad is sandwiched between you for a time, enjoying two sexy women rubbing against him, exploring him with hands and caresses.

Drenched, panting, you retire back to your table at the end of three songs.

You and Marumi pounds drinks and head back onto the dance floor. Yes, you make a bit of a scene, bending her over and spanking her, forcing her head between your thighs and pretending to make her eat your pussy. That part gets especially naughty when you feel her tongue travel up the length of your moistened mound outlined by your tight leggings.

You exit the dance floor to applause from all the single guys. Your husband is waiting with more cold drinks.

"Let's take pictures!" says Marumi. She drags you and Brad to the large photo booth. It reminds you of another photo booth experience with one of your ex-boyfriends. Back then it was you, John and a busty blond who wanted your hands on a tits. You were intrigued, but reluctantly.

No such hesitation tonight. Your body is hot from the dance floor and your head is swimming from the mojitos. The door to the photo booth closes behind you. It's heavily padded and only the thumping bass penetrates. There's a wide, curving bench, big enough for several people to sit for party photos.

You and Marumi sandwich Brad, leaning across him, your lips against hers, your tongue darting into her mouth. The camera flashes.

At her urging you lift your breasts up to Brad's face and smother him in your cleavage. His hand cradles your ass. The camera flashes. God, you're so drunk. You take another picture, Marumi bent over Brad's lap, her skirt lifted to reveal her little bubble butt. Your spanking leaves red handprints on her lap for the next camera flash.

As the final camera flash comes you realize that Marumi is kissing Brad,

stroking his hardness through his pants. You just barely fight down your drunken jealousy enough to lower your hand to his crotch and stroke him with her, your fingers fighting for the tented real estate in his lap.

The camera beeps, signalling the photos are being processed by the machine.

"I think we should go," you whisper to Brad as you wait for the photos to pop out.

"Alright, baby," he says and gives you a long kiss. "You are pretty drunk."

"Just the right amount of drunk," you give him a longer, open-mouthed kiss letting him taste all those sour mojitos on your tongue.

Strips of photos fall through the slot. They are super sexy and you pass a copy to Marumi.

"We're going to head out," you say. You cut short the kissing, cover your breasts with your blouse and make for the door with your husband. You're almost to the car when you hear heels clicking after you on the asphalt and Marumi is there, school girl skirt bouncing up her thighs with each step.

"Hey," she calls as you reach your car. "I was wondering if you could give me a ride."

"Where to?" you ask.

She slides her arm around your back. "I was hoping your house."

Brad looks at you expectantly and you are reminded that he was willing to let you invite Tony to share the fun at the museum. Now that the tables are turned, with a friend no less, you're not sure you can extend the same hos-pitality. You yelp in surprise as Marumi's hand slides down your thigh and cups your pussy through the tight fabric of your leggings.

"Puh-lease," she breathes, her lips against your cheek.