I was having some insane dance floor fuck foreplay at Goth night.

This scary hot goth dyke needed a deep, intense dance floor fuck. And I was just the right ambidextrous, cunt-crazed, deranged bisexual slut to give it to her.

I talk about all kinds of things at work, but public lesbian sex in my real life felt surreal. Her eyes urged me to slide my first finger inside, pants still on and right there in the middle of the dance floor. What would you have done? I kissed her passionately as my pointer finger slipped easily inside her delicious, hungry cunt.

As I explored her with my finger, she leaned in to whisper in my ear: “More.”

I slid in my middle finger, which her soaking wet pussy devoured as easily and eagerly as the first. Her mouth was still pressed again my ear, and I felt her gasp with pleasure as I indulged her request. Was this really happening? I kept asking myself this even as I felt her swallowing my fingers deeper, rocking back and forth as I slid a third finger deep inside.

“More,” she commanded, this time staring deep, unblinking, into my wide eyes and what felt like my soul. People may have been watching, looking at us. I couldn’t tell. To me, it felt like the whole world had stopped around us and my hand and her cunt were all there was. As I slipped my entire hand inside (making a duck and “turning the key,” of course), “Fuck You Like An Animal” started to play.

My dance floor fuck had just become dance floor fisting.

Fisting has always been my favorite way to get fucked and I could tell it was this sexy goth lady’s favorite, too. I reached slowly, deep inside her. Her pussy lips kissed my wrists as her cunt enveloped me further. I liked the way her body held my hand and I liked the way she felt. And I liked the way I felt inside her. Maybe she was fucked up on drugs, but I was more or less sober. I think (and have always thought) sober sex is the best sex, anyway.

She seemed pretty sober and engaged to me. Having sex with someone whose level of wasted is higher, even a little bit, than mine has never gotten me wet. Now if we were to both eat some ecstasy right now? Well, that would be just fine.

Almost as if she’d read my mind, she pulled a pill out of her pocket, broke it in half and put one half under my tongue and one under her own. And then she kissed me again, hard.

I realized as the (I hoped, E) pills slid around under our passionately making out tongues that I didn’t even know her name yet. In my mind, she looked like an even hotter of Fairuza Balk from The Craft combined with Lydia from Beetlejuice, perhaps the peak of my Winona Ryder celebrity crush phase. Who the fuck was this insane, horny, hot as fuck woman? And how crazy was I to be fist-fucking her in the middle of the dance floor??

Believe it or not, in my “real life” I’m mostly a lesbian but whether I’m dating a man or woman tend to take a while before letting them fuck me. It was turning me on that this sexy Goth stranger wasn’t insisting on touching me, too. I just wanted to enjoy making love to her and her sexy cunt, slow and deep. And I was. I was really enjoying this shit.

Suddenly, the room started to slow down.

Seems like the ecstasy she’d fed me was starting to kick in. I wondered if hers was, too. We felt so in sync at that moment already, with my fisting churning tenderly inside her. But you know how doing ecstasy together is. It makes every even more slowed down and even more in sync if you’re doing it with someone else. Especially if you’re fucking them. And yeah, my hand was definitely still fucking her. She arched her neck back, moaning. And then I felt her squirt all over my legs and my hand, all the way up to my mouth.

FINALLY, READ THE FINALE NEXT WEEK!

Want to hear the rest of the dance floor fuck Goth femme fatale story? Call my phone sex hotline.

 


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