Sara Jean Underwood goes dancing

Sara Jean Underwood goes dancing

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Sara Jean Underwood, Miss July 2006 and Playmate of the Year 2007 daydreams and dances the night away.


Sara Jean Underwood, Miss July 2006 and Playmate of the Year 2007 daydreams and dances the night away.


Submitted: April 18, 2013

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 18, 2013



Sometimes when she looked out the window of the Playmate House she felt like Rapunzel. The Playboy Mansion was across the street and in the Holmby Hills section of LA across the street was quite a distance but she could feel the publisher’s watchful eyes on her all the time. She knew he lusted for her but even after he elevated her to ‘Sara Jean Underwood, Playboy’s Playmate of the Year 2007,’ and he always said it that way, as if it were in lights; even after he made her  playmate of the year she managed to avoid too much of his attention. The dreaded Girls Next Door made sure of that anyway.

Still he controlled her life, not that it was a bad life; she met movie stars and sports stars and travelled the world thanks to Playboy and he insisted that she model virtually every garment in the Playboy Catalogue and he let her keep everything. Well, some of the stuff was nice, but in some ways wearing the Playboy brand helped to intensify the feeling of being trapped.

She was naked now as she stared out the window and she shyly peered from around the sheer curtains as if she was expecting him to be watching with a telescope. Actually, she knew he did have a telescope trained on the Playmate House but that was just for show; in reality he surveilled his playmates with a sophisticated network of cameras hidden in the walls and behind the mirrors both in the Mansion and the house across the road. Sara Jean had been promised that this room, her room, was not wired but she was never certain.

She sighed and leaned against the wall. Tonight was a club night and a command appearance for her. A bevy of playmates would be piled into a van and follow the publisher’s limo to a club where he would hold court in a booth while bodyguards watched the playmates dance, making certain that they didn’t interact with any strange men. As Playmate of the Year Sara Jean was expected to ride in the limo but she always managed to slip away with some small excuse and give her place to some more ambitious playmate.

She looked over at the bed at the outfit she was expected to wear tonight. The undergarments were directly out of the catalogue and she had already modeled them for the Playboy Store. The bra was a deep black, a smooth sheen of spandex that practically glowed against her pale skin.  Of course it pushed her chest high and dipped low in the front for plenty of cleavage. The panties matched, deep black with almost a patent leather shine, cut low to come way below the waist and cut high to ride high on the hips; the garment was basically a V shape with a series of laces to hold it together. In front the V dipped down almost to the opening of her sex and in back the V swooped well beyond the sweet valley between the two perfect orbs of her ass; she actually had to cinch the whole thing up with laces like a bustier.

The undergarments were designed for one dress only, a deep black number of the same sort of faux patent leather. Super short of course and low cut in the front, the back was even more revealing. The V pattern with laces was repeated front and back; in the front it pulled the tight dress even tighter over her breasts but in the back the V went all the way down to the laces over her rear with the tight dress ending just where the laces of the panties began. She would be dancing with half of her bottom hanging out.

The clock chimed as if she were Cinderella now and had to get ready for the ball. She sighed languidly and padded, barefoot over the carpet to the make-up table. Sara Jean liked to be nude when she was alone and her lithe body moved with a simple and elegant grace that came to her naturally. If cameras were trained on her now they would see her light shimmering hair dance softly as she moved and breasts, firm and round, rise and fall with each breath. They would see her exquisite derriere roll in harmony with each step. When the publisher reviewed the tape a few days later he played back these few seconds over and over, overwhelmed and speechless by her guileless beauty.

She sat naked at the make-up table, girlishly wriggling her tight ass into the luxuriant velvet seat; she still could not believe how rich and warm it felt on her bottom. She looked at herself in the mirror and ran her hands over her face and down her throat; the touch of her palms on her nipples made them rise but her hands glided down her belly and over her hips and knees. That one playful caress set her body to tingling and she could see her eyes sparkle and her nipples blush in the glass but that was the only indulgence she allowed herself. She leaned forward to scrutinize her face with a professional and critical eye.

Sara Jean without make-up was softer (if that were possible) and more earthbound that than the striking female object she presented as Miss July and Playmate of the Year. Sara Jean without clothes was slight and curvaceous at once, with small firm breasts, slender hips, and sinewy arms and legs; she had a flat belly with a slightly protruding navel, tender hands, a lusciously bare pussy, firm buttocks and intriguingly white skin smoother than precious silk.

Anyone else would have seen flawless beauty but Sara Jean noted the potential for a pimple and some slight dryness around the eyes. She pouted and shrugged. She wasn’t vain at all and preferred to be natural more than anything else but she was honorable and since she was paid to make herself up then she wanted it to look good.

Natural was too low-key a look when out on the town with the publisher, so ‘self-assured and dynamic’ were her buzz-words; glamour was the look for her now. At first glance, yes, it was a made-up modern look. But look again; Sara Jean was always tasteful and discrete. There was no garish technicolor, but a harmony of color and shading. While she preferred a natural look she had to admit that it was fun to play dress-up sometimes. She brushed her hair behind her ears and prepared to work.

Watching herself in the mirror she began to work an expensive moisturizing cream, delicately massaging her face, her skin velvety and flawless. She dipped her fingers into a bowl of warm water and gently splashed her face and then carefully patted it dry with tissues. It was her beauty secret, but it worked! Next she picked up a large brush, caressing her fingers over the finely carved stem and the lush sable bristles; a tingle of luxury rushed from her fingertips to her toes. With the care of an expert portrait painter she applied a loose, translucent powder over her warm skin.

Eye shadow was next; she looked at the palette and selected a sexy lavender. With another expensive brush she applied her shadow in a rounded shape, with the curved arc at the centre of her lids. Just the right amount of mascara on both top and bottom lashes completed the wide-eyed look. She etched fine lines with a brown pencil and batted her lashes and examined her work; she was always surprised at the slow transformation from little Sara Jean to glamorous Playmate of the Year. She felt her nipples stiffen even more as she studied herself in the mirror.

Sara Jean always had a healthy glow and shape to her face, a sweet warm light on the apples of her cheeks.  But glamour required artifice and she complied, smiling and dusting the blusher over her cheek-bones, upwards and outwards. The soft power made her giggle even as it increased the elegance of her look. Finally she puckered up and kissed her mouth with the lipstick, letting the creamy color and moisture press over her lips like a lover’s caress. She giggled and tingled again and almost spoiled her work until she calmed herself and carefully applied the finishing touches.

She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair and contemplated her work; she did look glamorous but she could still see the playful and innocent girl underneath. Perfect.

She wandered over towards the bed, her lithe body slinking around the room as if she were delaying the need to get dressed. The cool air of the room tickled over her soft skin. She felt free and cozy in her nudity, in the solitude and privacy of her room. Later that night the Girls Next Door, watching the surveillance tape, snarled when they saw the innocent and sweet Sara Jean strolling so happily in her naked freedom.

The sexy outfit, the black lingerie almost metallic in its shine and the super tight black dress, waited on the bed and Sara Jean turned and imagined herself out on the dance floor wearing these clothes. Would she feel sexy? Or would she feel vulnerable and exposed? She wondered sometimes who, outside the girls at the Playboy Mansion, would wear these outfits from the Playboy Catalog.

Well, it was better than the bunny outfit. A few weeks ago they poured her lithe body into the snug fitting satin bodice and snapped the bow tie and cuffs on her; the publisher himself positioned the bunny ears on her head as though he were lowering a crown. His hands lingered for a long time, brushing through her hair and over her bare shoulder and arm; he even swept his palm over the low cut cleavage, his finger cool on her warm flesh. He searched for her gaze hopefully but she looked away, dreading eye contact. The bunny suit was a costume for a party sponsored by the publisher’s favorite fraternity: Kappa Omicron Xi , the Cocksmen.

The Cocksmen had a reputation they took seriously; the party was a fundraiser; always in trouble, the fraternity needed to do community service and the publisher was glad to help. Various playmates were auctioning themselves off for dates and the scene was pretty raucous and raunchy.  Sara Jean wasn’t part of the auction; all she had to do was mingle with the crowd in her skimpy bunny costume looking cute, and cute she could do. She glided in and out among the crowd of crazed frat boys, most of whom were focused on bidding on the girls on the stage. Sara Jean was carrying a tray of drinks so swinging the tray around and doing the bunny dip in the skimpy costume kept most roving hands off of her even while the glimpse of her cleavage and bare shoulders elicited plenty of lewd remarks.

These scenes always had a strange effect on the cute and sexy playmate; on the one hand, the remarks were crude and the crush of testosterone was even intimidating, but on the other hand, she was always intrigued by the desire men had for her and still surprised that they would think she was sexy. By the end of the evening she was tingling with excitement over the sweat and energy of the crowd. Nothing would surprise her now.

The auctions were over and she was standing to the side watching with bemusement as the various playmates giggled and teased among the wild frat boys. The sudden firm grip on her bare arm came almost as a relief; someone was behind her and drawing her towards him. She understood completely. Slowly, unhurried she leaned the empty tray against the wall and allowed herself to be pulled back. The small sitting room off of the ballroom was surprisingly quiet after the noise and chaos of the auction and its aftermath. Everything now was magnetic attraction; Sara Jean moved with grace and dignity but she moved towards one irrevocable fate. The bunny outfit was a badge of honor now, a super heroine’s costume; she was Super Sexy Playmate Bunny Sara now. She didn’t look at the man but in alluring silence she glided to the couch and sat; he followed and she didn’t glance his way but felt the couch shift as his massive form sat on the other end.

Both were silent and Sara Jean nudged her sweet round bottom away from him, sliding along on the smooth silk of the upholstery; she was playing the tease, avoiding his eyes.  The teasing played like a little drama, a scene from a silent movie: the little girl gliding sideways only to be followed the enormous man until she was pinned between the arm rest of the couch and his massive, muscular leg. All along she had kept her large soft eyes demurely focused on the table in front of her while his eyes flashed with lecherous greed as he looked at her tender body seemingly trying to escape, yet staying close enough to attract him.

His hand was on her leg now and squeezing quite possessively.  Her arms crossed her chest and her ankles crossed too as if she were protecting herself.  Now he just sat there looming above her.  His face became blank, almost serene; he seemed to be waiting for her.

All sorts of emotions were colliding in Sara Jean’s brain. On the one hand she was nervous, even afraid.  His hands were huge; he was huge.  His body seemed to be nothing but tightly packed muscle and his attitude made his intentions quite clear.  On the other hand, still turned on by the flood of testosterone and lust from the auction room, she felt sexy and powerful in her bunny outfit; everything was under her control.  And she was intrigued that his hands were so enormous, that he was so gigantic.  His muscular build was quite attractive really; he was strange and exotic to her.  
Without looking at him, she raised a finger to her lips indicating she still wanted silence.

He squeezed her leg harder and put his other hand under her chin and turned her face to his and her blush was irresistible, her eyes demurely looking away from his.  He lifted her face and bent down and kissed her.  She kept her lips locked against his probing tongue but at the last moment, before using all her strength to pull her head away, she darted her little pink tongue out and drew it over his.  She liked his taste.

She leapt off the couch and stood a few feet away from him with her hands on her hips. She saw herself in a mirror and she was still Super Sexy Bunny Sara but she was fragile Sara too and her eyes showed it.

Without realizing how fast he had moved she found herself pulled back, almost flying in the air, and landing in his lap. He had one hand on her back and the other across her thighs pressing her round plump ass into his crotch.  She wiggled and snuggled into the warmth of his solid muscles.  This was good, so good.

But she wasn't about to surrender completely.  Still shyly and slyly looking at the floor she wagged her finger in admonishment.  She giggled silently, her freckles glowing, the skin of her shoulders and chest blushing.  

He quite brazenly slid a hand into her breathtaking cleavage and she felt a thrilling spark from his touch even as she prudishly snatched his hand away.  
They sat not moving for a second.  Sara smiled sexily and he knew what was coming.

She squirmed enough to reach down and slide her slender hand, her tender fingers, into his pants.  Even as she dug in she looked straight into her own gaze in the mirror, her eyes aglow with a look of confident defiance. Sure enough her finger tips made direct contact with the skin of his thigh.  Sparks shot under her hand and sparks flashed in her lovely eyes; she couldn‘t hide her delight and excitement.  His eyes blazed too, and his growl told her that the hunt was over; in a few moments he’s be stripping her bare and taking her sweet flesh.

Her fingers scratched the tight muscles then withdrew quickly.

The beautiful girl paused for a moment. She purred delicately, inaudibly.

He smirked with satisfaction.  Now it was show time, for sure.  His cock was hardening against her delightfully round bottom and she squirmed sexily, tickling it.  She stretched out her shapely legs and kicked off her shoes.  She pulled her knees up to her chin and curled up like a kitten in his lap.  Her arms reached down and pulled his head toward her round soft face and her lips parted for a deep and passionate kiss.

She was yielding completely; all that was left was for him to uncover her treasures.  He sank back into the plush leather couch, sighing contentedly and setting himself to his happy task.

He picked up one of her dainty wrists and she lightly brushed her fingers across his face, slipping each finger into his mouth for a moment.  His fingers undid the cufflinks and tossed the stiff, starched wrist bands away.

Sara Jean moaned silently. He smiled and took up the other hand and stripped it too.  He could feel the anxious beat of her pulse in those slender wrists. While his fingers worked she took her tiny hand off his face and licked the taste of him with her soft pink tongue.  She used that same hand to slide her moist fingers into his shirt. He moaned at her warm touch. With expert agility she used her thumb and forefinger to flick open each button.

Sara Jean's nails scratched down his chest causing him to writhe and press his growing cock up against her rear.  He twisted her around and lifted her soft, blonde hair and undid the collar and tie.  He kissed the spot where the collar had covered her neck and she leaned back into him, reaching back to hold his head with her hands.

He pushed her forward slightly and caressed the expanse of white flesh across her shoulders and back.  Sara Jean's smooth, milky pale skin was literally pouring out of the tight uniform.  Even more of her chest was expanding as she heaved with deep and lustful breaths.

The skin right at the edge of the garment, the flesh pinched by the tight cinching of the cloth, was most sensitive.  She let out a sharp peep as he dug his fingers along that irresistible line.  Her hands were still on his head and her fingers writhing all over his face and ears and neck.  His hands came around and pushed up those spectacular breasts and Sara Jean let out a contented whimper.  She twisted her head and they kissed again.

Down his hands pressed along her flat belly and against the swell of her crotch.  They rested on her slim yet curvy hips and with one smooth motion he stood, lifting her in the air.  

Sara Jean gasped with delight at the flying sensation and being trained as a dancer, she dropped her legs and pointed her toes straight down.  Her arms fell to her sides.  He strode across the room with his prize and stopped in the center.  Sara Jean squealed when he suddenly spun her in the air.  When he caught her hips she was facing him now.

He moved forward again and Sara Jean looked at him with soulful eyes, knowing where they were headed.  She sighed as she enjoyed the feel of his strength squeezing her hips and lifting her up.

She felt her tiny feet touching the soft surface of the couch. He stood her up and took a step back to drink her in.  Standing straight up on the edge of the couch she finally was eye to eye with the enormous man.  She rested her hands on his shoulders and they kissed again.  Their tongues darted and danced and suddenly his plunged in deeply tickling the back of her throat.

He lifted her bunny ears off as if they were a crown and then his hungry hands began to pat and squeeze up and down her body.  He jerked open the laces cinching that closed the bottom of the outfit and Sara Jean swooned as the uniform's tight grip on her torso was released.  His hands were frantic and eager now and they ran up her back and the zipper was jammed down in one sharp pull.  Without any ceremony at all he grabbed the front of the costume and pulled it down.  The velvet fell away, gliding down her legs and landing at her feet with a soft rustling sound.  With her hands still resting on her shoulders she delicately stepped out of the costume and dropped it to the floor with a flick of her tiny foot.

She lifted her hands off his shoulders and rested them behind her head.  Her magnificent breasts jutted forward.  Her skin was pale but the moist warm flesh of her heaving mounds was even paler, highlighting the flaming red of her aroused nipples. Her soft wide shoulder and chest tapered down to her narrow waist; the luscious curves then spread out in the shape of her plump and juicy thighs, still covered by the black tights.Her cute little bellybutton, peeking out over the edge of the tights, fluttered with her rapid breathing.  Her eyes flickered with anticipation and pride and her lips were parted, letting out her shallow breaths.  Her golden hair shimmered in the light as her whole body trembled slightly.

His jaw dropped. This was what he had been waiting for.  

He embraced her again, crushing those delectable pillows against his chest. Her mouth responded eagerly and her hands pushed his open shirt off his back.

His massive hands dug into the flesh of her spine and ran down her back.  His fingers gripped the elastic of the tights and in a savage jerk wrenched them down over her ass and kept pulling, flipping her backwards on the bed.  His arm flew up in an arch as his body followed hers down and he yanked the nylon off her legs.

He landed next to her and he was a different man now.  His mouth pounced on those delicious nipples and he sucked and gorged like a kid with an ice cream cone.  Her flesh melted into his mouth and she sobbed as the heat of his lips and tongue seared through her surrendering body.  

With one hand he held her hair brutally, forcing her to arch her back and press her wondrous bosom into his face.  His other hand pressed on her belly and then slid down.  With no warning, first one finger, then another pierced her sex, causing her back to arch even more.

Her hands scratched and grazed along his chest and belly straining to reach what was still in his pants.

He probed inside her as her body thrashed and bucked, then abruptly he pushed her towards the head of the bed and flipped his head between her legs.  His mouth covered her entire pussy and his tongue dug in, licking and slurping and finally beating and teasing against her clit.

Sara Jean was stunned by the rapid actions, the way she was so completely stripped and possessed.  The pleasure in her sex rolled up her body paralyzing her with bliss.  Bolts of ecstasy fired into her, pinning her to the bed.  She had never felt an orgasm grip her so quickly and she struggled to breath; she had no energy to move or make a sound as she absorbed the pleasure engulfing her.

As the heavenly tingles ebbed slowly Sara Jean felt herself being pulled up into a sitting position.  At the same time he was stretching his giant body down on the couch.  

Sara Jean’s fingers gingerly reached out to the zipper of his slacks.  She was already mesmerized by the outline of the long, thick shape bulging in the fabric. She opened the pants and slid her hand in.  Her hands were warm and moist but they felt cool against the heat of his throbbing shaft.

Her nails ran over it and the rock hard pole twitched violently.  She pulled out her hand in fear and tugged his pants down and off.  

She looked with saucer eyes at the shaft standing straight up like a flag pole.  Shifting herself next to his hips she wrapped her two hands around it and with a gentle squeezing pressure glided up and down its length.

Sara Jean shook her head involuntarily.  There was no way she could get even the head of that thing in her mouth, but she leaned down and used her tongue to tickle the base and the balls and then run up and down the shaft eagerly.  She sat straight up and pressed the beast between her two creamy breasts and began to twirl her tongue around the head, finishing up by digging into the slit at the very tip.

She used her mouth for a long time, savoring every inch of him, enjoying his salty taste.  Her body still vibrated from the tongue lashing he’d given her and she felt him trembling and saw his eyes roll back in his head.  

As her tongue worked the tip again her eyes gazed into his face.  She watched as an almost carnivorous gleam came to his eyes.  His white teeth looked like fangs. She knew he was going to explode.  

And explode he did, but not in the way the poor girl expected.  He sprang up and grabbed her hair and threw her onto the couch.  He leapt upon her and gripped her shoulders.  With one solid thrust he rammed all of himself into her.  He was in a blind frenzy, desperate to ravage the delicious milky flesh of her sweet body.

Sara Jean’s nerves were torn and ripped as that massive head raced up into her. It was the end for her, all ration and reason was gone; she had no control over her body even if she wanted it. The pleasure burst in her like a nova and kept building from there. He pounded her mercilessly with his fingers digging deep into her shoulders to keep her locked onto his body.  He shot into her volley after volley.  He flipped her over and she dangled like a doll as he took her from behind. She smiled blissfully unaware of the brutal treatment her petite body was enduring. Her sheath was a tight velvet glove squeezing him endlessly as she floated above him in a calm cloud of pleasure.  Again he shot into her, burning his juices deep into her body. Now he was on his back lifting her up and down over his shaft like a puppet.  Her hair danced and her lovely breasts bounced up and down in rhythm.  Still she smiled with half-closed eyes, happy as he filled her body over and over again. Her body responded to each thrust, tightening her sheath and moving her body with his.

He continued this way for hours, bending and bouncing her like a little doll.  Sara Jean’s body was a quivering mass of sexual satisfaction; the more he drilled her, the tighter and sweeter her body became, and the look on her face was sweeter and more angelic with each stroke of his shaft…

…A tap on the door interrupted her daydream and she looked down at the dress again, shiny black and sexy. Another tap and a pleading voice, “The car is waiting downstairs.” Sara Jean sighed and picked up the unusual bra and slipped the straps over her shoulders; the cups felt cool as they enclosed the bottoms of her breasts, pushing the mounds up in offering. She reached behind and tugged the straps, squeezing the bra around her torso like a lover’s embrace. The panties were a complex arrangement of vinyl and strings; the laces, like the sexy laces on a bodice, were already done up and the garment was snug almost arousing as it squeezed over her round ass and bare pussy.
She held up the tiny dress and giggled and wriggled into the tight fabric. The dress was cinched with black leather laces to fit tightly over her curves like a bustier, but the secret was a simple hook and eye that she had to tug closed to pull the whole dress tight around her body. With a grunt she pulled the two parts of the closure together, taking a deep breath to squeeze herself into the dress.
She scrambled into her shoes, briefly giving the glamorous woman in the mirror another girlishly doubtful giggle and she wriggled out of the room and down the stairs.

The limo was waiting, the door open and the publisher was patting the seat next to him, while the dark eyes of Girls Next Door glowed cruelly in the dim interior; Sara Jean couldn’t help rolling her eyes and she suddenly stopped. “Oh, I forgot my purse!” she squealed and she turned to Monica Leigh and pushed her into the seat. The door slammed and the limo roared off in an angry mood.

Smiling slyly over her small victory she strolled to the van and joined the other playmates. The vehicle shot off, following the limo to the nightlife of greater LA. First stop: Circus Disco on Santa Monica Boulevard. The place was huge and already pulsing with a massive crowd and wild music.

The music hit hard like rain on a tin roof.  Sara Jean was instantly mesmerized and the swaying beat swept any and all thoughts except the excitement of her body’s tingling. She could feel eyes on her, ogling the dress but it didn’t matter; she felt great. I, I wanna get into youI don't want no girlfriend, just wanna get into youI wanna get into youI don't want no girlfriend, just wanna get into you

A phalanx of body guards separated the Playmates from the crowd and the girls danced freely among themselves, lipsynching to the song and teasing each other with pinches and caresses, teasing the crowd too by giving each other light and fluttering girl on girl open mouth kisses with pink tongues glistening under the disco lights. Sara joined in; she made out with Monica and she giggled over the sweet taste of a girl’s tongue in her mouth; both playmates gazed at the publisher while then slow danced and made out. Suddenly the beat picked up, a throbbing pulse now, and Sara Jean found herself dancing next to a body guard who was doing a good imitation of a wall.
I, I wanna get into you
I don't want no girlfriend, just wanna get into you
I wanna get into you
I don't want no girlfriend, just wanna get into you

Sara submitted completely to the song. Perhaps she was unaware, but her juicy rear was grinding into the thigh of the body guard. He stood implacable, as if the beat meant nothing to him and the sexy touch of the sexy playmate’s plump bottom could not arouse him. As if.

Sara Jean continued to wriggle and writhe to the music. The guard now turned to face the playmates dancing. Miss July’s rear was now grinding into his crotch.

Ain't talking about commitment, shoobie-doobie-doop-doop-dee-doop
Ain't talking about no wedding ring, shoobie-doobie-doop-doop-dee-doop
I hope you ain't a gold-diggin biatch, shoobie-doobie-doop-doop-dee-doop
But you a fine lil' sexy thang, shoobie-doobie-doop-doop-dee-doop (uhh)

A hand came down on her shoulder and without looking Sara Jean knew everything. Her knees grew weak and she felt a disquieting thrill rush through her. She continued to sway with the music but she leaned back into strong arms, arms guiding her away from the crowd.

I, I don't want no girlfiend
I just wanna get into (just wanna get into you)

Bodies writhed and gyrated frantically all around her but Sara Jean’s body was calming itself, preparing for the onslaught to come. The two hands on her shoulders maneuvered her through the crowd slowly, giving everybody a chance to study the lovely girl as she passed. Sara watched the eyes drawn to her pretty face; each gaze would admire her own eyes, then wander appreciatively down the curves of the super tight and revealing black dress, then the gaze would see the man possessing Sara and the eyes would dart away in fear. The fear she saw in the dance crowd’s eyes thrilled her; this man would take her.

“Just over here.” He guided her towards a far corner of the room. Suddenly the light was dimmer. The sounds of the crowd faded away. Sara could hear her own heartbeat and his heavy breathing. He maneuvered her deep into the corner, pushing her face to the wall.  She was hidden from the rest of the room now.

“What are you going to do to me?” She knew. His hands were all over her body. She sighed as he cupped her ass, and she moaned as he cupped her fine firm breasts, the nipples hard as acorns. She sobbed when he cupped her pussy, grinding his shaft into her ass as he pushed her hard to the wall. “What do you want from me?” she purred.

“Come on, you know what I want.” His fingers probed desperately over the complex web of laces, his rough hands scratching her soft pale skin as he tried to figure out how the dress was secured.

“Let me,” Sara Jean whispered sweetly and her delicate hands tugged on the single hook and eye that kept the dress closed. One hard yank and the closure was loose and the tight leather reluctantly eased its grip on her body. The leather laces hummed like guitar strings as they rushed through the metal grommets holding them in place and Sara sighed in harmony with the metallic rush down her back. He spread the dress open and gently kissed the pale skin between her shoulders.

Sara dropped her arms and allowed the dress to slide away and gather in a shinny puddle of black at her feet.  She now wore only the leather bra and panties, and those fabulous stiletto heels. She leaned her palms against the wall and delicately stepped out of the dress, teasingly turning her head as if to watch his reaction but avoiding meeting his eyes. Her look was flirtatious and her look was fragile too. Be gentle her eyes whispered.

He chuckled as though she had pleaded out loud. “I’m gonna fuck you until you scream.” He leaned over her and impaled her mouth as he began to undo the bra. Sara was in heaven. His hands moved with frantic and forceful energy, tearing and tugging at the complicated bra, not bothering to work the Gordian Knot of its design; the brutal vigor of his pulling and tugging made the straps pinch into her soft flesh with an enthralling electric charge but then in a moment the bra was in shreds at her feet. Her nipples rose in excitement; Sara glanced towards the crowd just a few yards away then dedicated herself to feeding her ripe firm mounds to his greedy mouth.

Her breast was sucked up into his mouth; his teeth clamped down over the nipple and she bit her lip to keep from squealing. Her hands held his head and his hands began a rough and impatient assault on her panties.  Sara Jean rocked back and forth, struggling to stay on her feet; she gently held his wrists. “Let me,” she whispered those magic words of submission once more. He lifted his head from her breast and watched her work the hook on the panties; they both watched the black panties fall away from her white skin and watched her pussy show itself, moist and blushing.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her against him and kissed her. First she struggled, but then she blended into him. The kiss started as a brutal rape, ramming down the helpless girl’s throat, and she writhed and bucked in panic; but the sweet soft taste of the girl gentled the savage beast and Sara’s light and sparkling tongue, sugar coated and soft, slowly eased him into a long loving kiss of yearning. Her body slowly caressed over his; she licked his face gently and whispered earnestly. “Do me; right here with everybody watching.” He got his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her bare ass, and her mind was gone. The music came pouring down like buckets of rain, and she pulled away, saying, “I hope you can finish what you started.”

Stepping back he snarled; in his hand was the proof that he intended to start what he finished. Sara Jean leapt up, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. His tongue fucked her mouth and his cock rammed deep into her hot wet snatch. She groaned against his teeth and he went to work, shoving her against the wall and thrusting deep into her.

He roughly pulled her into him and he held her very close, his large strong hand hard in the small of her back. She felt him controlling, teaching her body rhythms she hadn’t known she knew, swaying and intricate, her face held onto his chest. Her hands were suddenly exploring him, skillfully arousing him with her soft searching fingers.

The music pounded on, the bass throbbing through the wall and up and down her spine; his cock pounded hard, the veins throbbing deep inside her tight pussy. He pulled her hair back and smashed his mouth over hers thrusting up at the same time and crushing her in a lustful vise. She howled into his mouth as he fired a huge cannonball straight into her; the last barrier was demolished and she came in floods of tears and nectar, twisting and writhing uncontrollably. He shot again and she exploded into frenzied screams coming in waves like an earthquake and endless aftershocks. He came one final time and dropped her to the floor and let her rattle in the throes of the constantly expanding and contracting orgasm.

He straightened himself and with a snort looked down at the trembling beauty at his feet; he re-arranged his clothes and with a cock of the walk strut returned to his body guard duties

She caught her breath and sat up and smiled the smile of a girl who truly was fucked. She did her best to get the dress back on but everybody knew what had happened. She walked slowly back the crowd dreading meeting the publisher’s eyes. Instead a loud raucous tune blasted out and everybody rushed to the floor to dance, sweeping Sara Jean into the middle of the swarm of writhing bodies; she danced in that giddy up and down bounce like Snoopy in the Peanuts cartoons. She would just dance all night she decided, smiling a smile of pleasure, pleased with herself.




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