Party Girl

Amber's black tank top clung to her lithe frame, the fabric thin enough to hint at the gentle curve of her belly. Her skirt was short and pleated, swaying with each step she took, revealing glimpses of her toned thighs. She wore fishnet legwear that added a touch of edginess to her casual goth look, paired with ankle-high boots that gave her a bit of height and attitude. A choker necklace adorned her neck, its silver pendant catching the dim light of the party. Her shoulder-length red hair was styled in loose waves, framing her face with a rebellious flair. Her green eyes, lined with dark eyeliner, sparkled with curiosity and a hint of mischief. Her breasts were small but perky, fitting snugly within the confines of her tank top, while her ass was round and firm, accentuated by the tight fit of her skirt.

Amber was invited to the party by a girl in her class. She decided to go because she has been masturbating a lot on the last days, and now is starting to be worried about herself, so a change of routine would help, or so she thinks.

The house party in the slums was in full swing when Amber arrived. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, ****, and the faint aroma of marijuana. Music blared from speakers set up in corners, the bass thumping through the walls and vibrating through her chest. People crowded the space, dancing wildly or huddled in groups, laughing and talking loudly. The girl who had invited her, a classmate named Lily, had already disappeared into the throng, leaving Amber to navigate the chaos on her own.

Amber decided to grab a drink and join the dance floor. She sipped on a mixed cocktail, the liquid burning slightly as it went down, and began to sway to the music. Her hips moved rhythmically, her body responding instinctively to the beat. As she danced, she felt a hand on her butt, a firm grip that made her gasp. Someone was grinding against her from behind, their dick pressing into her, hard and insistent.

Amber tried to move away, but the crowd was too dense, and the person behind her was relentless. Without stopping her dance, she turned to confront the stranger. "Hey, you can't just do that," she said, her voice cutting through the music.

The man smirked, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. He was black, muscular, and shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat. His tattoos covered his arms and chest, intricate designs that told a story of their own. "Sorry, babe," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," Amber replied, though her heart was still racing. "Just... don't do it again."

He stepped closer, his lips brushing against her neck. "What if I want to?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Amber shivered, the sensation sending a thrill down her spine. "Stop," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl?" he asked, his tone playful. "The kind who enjoys herself?"

"No," Amber said, trying to pull away. "The kind of girl who... you know what I meant."

He chuckled, his fingers tracing a path down her arm. "I really don't, babe. Why don't you show me?"

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, kissing her deeply. Amber's protests melted away, her body betraying her resolve. She surrendered to the kiss, her hands finding their way to his broad shoulders. He tasted like whiskey and something wild, something that made her blood sing.

When they finally pulled apart, he looked at her with a satisfied smile. "Come with me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "There's a dark room where we can be alone."

Amber hesitated, unsure of what he meant but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper.