Clubbing

True to the sales clerk’s words, George’s new jeans were, in fact, machine washable. When he removed them from the dryer, he checked the upper part of his left leg to make sure there were no stains from his earlier encounter at the department store. He felt a little foolish when he got dressed that evening, pulling on his new pants without wearing any underwear. Even without his briefs, he had difficulty closing the waist band and zipping up. That sales clerk, Brenda, had convinced him to purchase a pair of pants two sizes smaller than what he normally wore. On top of that, the jeans were not made of denim, but linen. Thin linen. And white.

When he checked his appearance in front of the mirror, wearing the brightly colored cut-off tee-shirt that exposed his stomach, he could actually see the dark shadow of his pubic hair. What had he gotten himself into?

Still, Wakefield & Stein was one of the better department stores and the sales clerk seemed to know her business. She had even said that she was familiar with the nightclub that he was going to. Teezers.

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A short time later, George arrived at the club. It was busy. Dozens of couples were out on the dance floor, moving to the rhythm of the loud, but not deafening, music blaring over the elaborate sound system. Around the floor were tall tables and stools, and a bar running half the length of one wall. After he had purchased a beer, he stood by the bar watching the couples out on the floor. Most were dancing close together. Very close together. The women facing forward, their buttocks nestled into their partners’ crotches. Grinding their asses into the men's hard-ons that were straining to get free. Rubbing against the restrained erections. All in rhythm to the throbbing beat of the music.

Most, though not all, of the people seemed to be around George’s age; late teens to mid-twenties. George himself was twenty-three. As the sales clerk had told him, the dress was casual but neat. Jeans, open collar shirts or tee-shirts. The women wore short dresses or skirts, in the mini skirt range, or tight shorts with tube-tops or halters.

One couple in particular caught his attention. While most of the couples consisted of the women facing away from the men, leaning slightly forward with their buttocks pressed into the men’s crotches, these two were dancing face-to-face. She was straddling his right thigh, her left arm wrapped around his neck, and her right hand pressing against the inside of his left upper thigh. From the movement of her right arm, it was obvious to George that she was literally masturbating him through the fabric of his jeans. Soon the man’s lips parted, and he closed his eyes. The poor fellow had ceased any pretense of dancing and just stood there, breathing through his mouth with his head thrown back.

Suddenly, the man's body jerked, and his dance partner accelerated her hand movement. It was as if the man was having a seizure. His entire body was shaking and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he gasped for air. His partner just grinned up at him, licking her lips and giggling.

Seemingly regaining control and awareness of his surroundings, the man looked around quickly and bolted for the john. The woman merely strolled off in the opposite direction.

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“Nice jeans!” a feminine voice snapped George out of his hypnotic staring. Turning his head, he saw a young woman wearing a leopard pattern top and tight, cut-off denim shorts. Her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, exposing her ears with large golden rings. Around her neck she wore a gold, hear-shaped locket. “So totally cock-tight!”

Her words caused George to glance down at his outfit and he thought he would die of embarrassment. Watching that couple on the dance floor had given him a raging hard-on. The tight pants clearly outlined every contour of it. The thinness of the linen virtually made his white jeans transparent. To make matters worse, he had leaked pre-cum while ogling those two on the dancefloor and there was a large wet spot covering the head of erection. Completely exposing it to the gaze of the woman standing next to him.

When he glanced up at her face, he saw that her green eyes were fixed on his crotch. Staring at his display. Savoring his exposure.