the local hot spot

As you start your stroll down the now-crowded mall walkway, you wonder about what your makeover consultant, Marcia, had told you about the guys not being able to look at you without creaming their pants. It seems to be working more the other way around.

With every step you take, you feel like your clitty is about to explode. You have never felt like the object of such abject lust. All the looks from the night's younger crowd are just turning you on tremendously. Every eye seems to follow your black-clad form as you continue killing time until you must report to Marcia when Masy's closes at 11pm. From your wild makeup to your sparkly cleavage, on down to your bared belly and thighs, every male, and some females, stare at you like they just want to eat you up.

You feel like you need to get out of the glare of the fluorescent lights. You see, and hear, the nightclub at the end of the mall. It is called, appropriately enough, The Hot Spot. You enter the dark atmosphere of the club.

You walk past empty tables and chairs that are primarily used for dining during the day. You look around the interior of the place. Fire, is, unsurprisingly the theme of The Hot Spot. The main bar has small glass-enclosed candles flickering at regular intervals along its length as you take a seat near a bartender. He is clad in black slacks and a black shirt. Neon flames shoot up from the shirt's waist and up his long sleeves. The man is darkly handsome. He approaches you, drying a glass.

"What can I get you, sweetie?" he asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

"I wanta Cum In A Hot Tub," you answer, trying to sound casual.

"Could I see some I.D.?" he asks you.

"Uh, my friend has my purse. She'll be here shortly," you lie.

"What were you planning on paying with, then?"

"Well, uh.." you look around the dance floor. The club is crowded. Techno music blares from a wall of speakers behind a raised stage, where a video wall shows tape of flames flickering, ten feet tall. Fans blow faux flames to the ceiling on both sides of the stage, the flickering lighted fabric seeming to writhe with the house music. Similar torches adorn all the walls.

"Here's a cola." He sets a glass before you, and tends to the other customers pushing to the bar.

A little disappointed at the soft drink, you sip some and decide to hit the dance floor.

On the crowded floor, you start to gyrate to the throbbing music. You close your eyes, the deep bass vibrating your horny clit. You open them to find a few guys swarming around you, watching your every bump and grind. One approaches, grasping your hips and thrusting against you. You grind against him. The leather miniskirt works it's way up your ass. Then comes the familiar feel of a hot cockhead touching your asscheek. You gyrate so it slots into your dripping twat. There in the middle of the dance floor, you fuck this strange man to the pounding pop remix. You grab the latex-clad brunette bopping around before you and soulkiss her as your snatch is filled with his seed.

You return to your seat as your anonymous fuck disappears as fast as he appeared. The bartender approaches with a filled margarita glass.

"The guys in the kitchen felt sorry for you , so they bought you this drink," he smiles, watching to see what your reaction is.

As you hold the salt-rimmed glass to your nose, you realize what the glass is filled with. The efforts of the kitchen staff's jackoff session.

Seeing the bartender was expecting you to be revolted, you chew on the lime, and then chug the contents of the stemmed glass in one long gulp. It did seem to have a shot of tequila in it. You smile with a cum mustache at the man. He just turns and walks away.

The brunette you frenched earlier sits beside you. In a light blue latex tankdress, she fondles you as she sits beside you. "Would you mind if my boyfriend assfucks you on the dance floor?"

"Only if you **** me from the front!" you say, smiling.

She takes your hand and you two return to the dance floor. She introduces you to her man, a good-looking blond in a tight tee and chinos. The three of you swirl together in a tangle on the dancefloor. Your mini is worked up once again as he centers in on his target. His slick cockhead bulls into your sphincter, filling you up. As his girl massages your boobs and nibbles your ear, the guy plows your backfield, planting his seed in your rear end.

They take you to a small table off the dance floor, a candle globe burning in the middle. Drinks are ordered, then the girl disappears beneath the table. You feel her under the front of your skirt, her hair tickling your thighs as she proceeds to eat your cumfilled, oozing twat. "Thank you for a wild night," her man says, rubbing your hand as his girl rubs your clitty.

The waitress, in a black lycra tankdress that reaches midthigh, looks at you oddly as you writhe in your seat. She decides you've had enough, and takes your glass away. Neon flames sees to lap at the waitress' ass as you watch her walk away. You have had enough, your climax subsides, and, when you open your eyes, your new friends are gone.

11 o'clock is approaching and you don't want to be late. As you hurry towards the exit, you almost run into one of the club's shot girls. "Cum again!" she smiles sexily at you, the redhead's generous attributes barely contained in a black lycra sports bra and booty shorts. With, of course, the red and yellow flames surrounding her hot ass and mammoth jugs. You silently wish you could, as you watch her disappear in the crowd. But, it's time to go.