The bass resonates through your chest and down through your stomach, connecting with the concurrent rumble travelling up through your legs at exactly the point you didn’t want it to centre. The persistent throb of your blood synchronising with the beat of the music and all zoning in on the one spot you didn’t want to think about tonight. After weeks, no, months of not even holding hands down the street, he had called it off earlier that day. Years of dating, planning, building a life together had been burnt in one swift argument. Tears streamed. Hearts broke. Doors closed.
You rang your best friend and explained, through gasps and whimpers, what had occurred that morning. They were at your door in less than an hour with two bottles of cheap red and a pack of cigarettes. You hadn’t smoked in years so the first hit of nicotine, and the haze of red wine, made your head swim. As the dizziness cleared, so did your sadness. Five words exploded from your mouth.
Fuck this. Let’s go dancing!
You both frantically undressed, dressed, undressed again, drank more, dressed, smoked more, swapped shoes and decided that make-up can fuck all the way off. Bollocks to attraction, tonight is all about fun! The sharp horn of the taxi startled you both into giggles of excitement and you headed for adventure…
Adventure may have been a stretch, you think as you weave your way between the sweaty dancers, bumping and grinding to the electronica forced through the air. People’s legs are entwined, hands are on hips, on backs, on breasts and chests, on necks and faces. Fingers clench hair, find their way into mouths, push past fabric and explore. Everyone is so fucking horny. If it was allowed, everyone in here would be fucking right now, and you’d be stood in the middle with your sad broken heart and the bass still stinging your clit with every beat. You can almost see the bodies writhing around on the sticky beer-soaked floor. Shiny with sweat and spit, darkened by the collective filth and then lit up by the neon strips.
You catch the eyes of another standing loner. As they glance away, you return to the middle of the throng of dancers, fantasy broken by the allure of another just like you. Fighting your way through, you reach them at an upright table and stand before them, smiling. They cautiously raise their glance to meet yours and return the grin. The light bounces off of their glasses as they sweep a hand through their neon blue hair. Their mouth opens and something is said, but it’s too loud to hear! They try again, and you strain but it’s no good so you raise your face and meet theirs. Closer than you expected. Close enough to see the kindness in their eyes, the sharpness of their cheekbones, and the full lips of the mouth slowly asking if they can buy you a drink.
You imagine those lips crushed against yours. Your tongue tickling the top and then you sucking on the bottom. You imagine them nibbling at your lip as they caress your bare breasts…
You nod, a little too eagerly for your own liking, if just to get some respite from the tension between you. They disappear into the throng of ravers and you notice that the beat in your clitoris, the annoying reminder that you weren’t getting laid tonight, had spread outwards and was now pulsing through your abdomen, emanating warmth and hope. It made your skin goosepimple and your nipples tighten. It made one side of your mouth curl into a knowing smirk.
The blue-haired stranger returned with bottles of lager and shots. From the sickly sweet scent that assaulted your nose, you could tell it was sambuca before they’d even placed the squat glass in front of you. You hate sambuca. The way it coats the inside of your mouth. The pinch of aniseed and cloying warmth of it make your stomach turn. Fuck it, though. Tonight was about adventure! You threw the shot down your throat and swiftly followed it up with half of the lager, just to rid yourself of the taste. Blue-hair’s eyes were wide with surprise and awe, their soft lips parted and wet, their blushed cheeks showing through the ever-changing light show. This was the moment to take control, to make the adventure yours…
Cold rough brick bites at your flesh as your body is forced against it. Slender fingers squeeze the side of your throat, gently but forceful enough to make spots swim in your vision. Sweat beads on your brow and in between your exposed breasts, running down to your navel and getting caught in the fabric of your hitched-up skirt. You’re not sure how you taking their hand in yours, leading them outside and pushing them up against the wall in a deep, passionate, frenzied kiss got turned around, but you don’t care. Blue runs the tip of their tongue across your jawline and under your earlobe, whispering gently, “Can you hear me now?” as they work their middle fingers through your pubic hair and between your sodden labia. You gasp and whimper as they glide over your throbbing, engorged clit and slowly push past the threshold of your hungry cunt. The sensation of being filled overwhelms you and your knees buckle, dropping an inch until you’re caught in their firm grasp, held up by one hand around your neck and another deep inside you.
Waves of emotion cascade over you with every flick of Blue’s inserted fingers. Lust. Shame. Ecstasy. Regret. Hunger. Rage. Completion. Heartache. They merge into a ball of fire, firmly centred in your abdomen, burning and growing with every moment as Blue finger fucks you with intent, never losing eye contact, even when they place their full mouth on to yours. You can feel your wetness pooling in and splashing from the palm of their hand as they enter you and press your most sacred of hidden spots. Your thighs are soaked. Their hand is dripping. Your cunt clenches and convulses and contracts as the fire drafts around your body and engulfs you. Every extremity sings with pleasure and you hold on to that burn with every muscle in your body, riding the wave of heat as it devours you. A low, drawn-out groan escapes your throat and enters their mouth as you come.
Your hands hold the back of Blue’s hair and you thrust your hips forward to take their fingers deeper inside. You fuck their hand, gushing your wetness in short spurts over the concrete and their beat-up Vans. You’re an animal taking down their prey, and you love it. As you shudder and shake with every orgasmic pulse the stresses of the day fall to ash around you, burnt by the fire inside you. You lock your forehead against theirs and manically smile, still riding their hand, still coming, still determined to make this night an adventure…
