My Favorite Music Is Party Songs That Make Me...

"Ain't that the Mexican dude you cut up the other week? One that saved your ass when his homeboys started acting up?"Surrounded by three husky young men wearing sunglasses, Chico Hernandez walked slowly through the crowded club. He was wearing a shiny form-fitting green shirt and yellow slacks, and had a small bandage over his left eye. The crowd parted to let them through, and Chico nodded impassively at a few people who called out his name."Yep, that's him," said Fabian. "Sharp dresser. Think I'd look good in a shirt like that?"Mickey shook his head and started laughing, and got that look on his face like he was going to come up with a bad-ass put down, and Fabian decided to change the subject. "Maybe I should send him a drink or something. Let him know there's no hard feelings."Two tables had opened up in the back of the club as if by magic, and Chico sat down at one of them by himself. His friends or bodyguards took the other table and started playing cards.Mickey said "He knows. He was on top of me, his cock trying to dig a hole into my stomach. I moaned into his mouth as the slightest touch of his cock sent my body into overdrive. I lifted my hips to press against his erection. It only tightened his hold on me.He used his knees to spread my thighs and rub against my pussy, no sorry cunt! Yes! My cunt. He loved the word. He wasn’t gentle. That is something I like about him. Sex with him was primal, animalistic, pure lust, and nothing else.It was a deep need to satiate all my bodily wants. I would still cream my panties just thinking about it. My breath quickened to his rubbing of my cunt. I was pinned to a stranger’s bed, his cock pressing into me, and yet I felt protected. His hands pinned my hands to the bed.He settled on my thighs with his legs pinning my knees to the bed. I was still cuffed to him. Yet somehow, his movements were fluid. He was able to reach down and take a nipple in his mouth without moving an inch. The wetness on my already erect nipples.
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