The best Christmas Gift

Let the feast begin

Brittany's POV

I pull away and leave him behind, sashaying through the revellers until I get some wolf whistles off to the right.

A couple of the guys were tall and imposing.

Some girls grip their boyfriends tighter, staking claim, but one of the tall guys is blatantly on the lookout for p***y. His eyes are on my t**s from the off, and he knows he’s fit.

I like that kind of confidence. I dance closer, giving him the eye as I twist and twirl, and he’s straight on it. Coming in close. This guy has more heat than the others.

His moves are more mature. His stature is more demanding. His hands are firm, fingers harsh as they squeeze my ass. I’d be happy to spread my legs and have him explore my juicy cunt right here on the dancefloor. I’d tug down my dress and set my t**s free to let him slaver. But no.

Not yet.

More kisses, but these aren’t sloppy – just fierce. He wraps a hand around the back of my neck to pull me close, and I figure that this could maybe be User 1041 getting me ready.

I’d like that. But no. Want to leave, get a cab back to mine? he asks. I don’t live too far from here. We could… hang out.

I keep up my flirting game. That depends, I smile, my mouth close to his ear. What would you want to do to me when we got there? Nothing crazy. I’m no psycho, don’t worry.

I laugh at that. Shame. Girls like me like it filthy.

He’s a decent looking guy. Tall and muscular, with a neat beard and dark eyes. He’s in a shirt that fits nicely, and looks like he’s packing a hulky d**k in his pants.

How filthy do you like it?” he asks. As filthy as it gets. His smirk is alright. Not an award winner. He’s confident, but not a super-ego.

Shall I at least get you a drink first?” Sure. Expresso, thanks. I’ll wait here.” I’m lying.

My eyes are already roving around for the next person of interest, but I don’t get all that long to mingle. Someone presses up against me from behind, and his hands on my waist put the last guy’s confidence to shame.

He loves them up to grope my t**s through my dress, and grinds his c**k against my ass. I work him right back, spurring him on, and I get tingles when his breath lands on my neck.

I can only just hear his words above the music. Better get back to lover boy and his espresso. He wants a piece.

He’s not going to f**k me hard enough. He doesn’t know that. Be a good slut and appreciate his efforts.

The stranger shoves me forwards, and he’s already blurred into the bodies on the dancefloor by the time I spin around.

Damnit, I have no idea who that was, and I do what I’m told, dancing back through the crowd towards the guy returning from the bar.

He has my drink in his hand, what a sweetie. I thank him and raise it in toast, my eyes locked on his like a siren. He’s my target. My minx trap. My job accessory.

I want to get him so worked up he’s set to ravage me on the dancefloor, and make that plain. The watcher in the shadows is the one who matters.

Come on, let’s stop playing games, I tell the guy I’m up against. Show me what you can do, and we’ll see about getting that cab.

I guide his hand down between my legs, and it’s clear the people around us are too engrossed in their own beat to notice.

The lights and noise have ramped up, the club getting heavier and heavier. I’ve passed off this guy as a half assed nobody too easily.

He’s got more dirty substance than I banked on, and if circumstances were different, if he was the guy paying… but he’s not.

He’s slender against my curves, but he’s strong. He hands me his beer, then reaches down to tear the crotch of my fishnets open like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He hooks his fingers inside my lacy thong, and damn, he’s good… he knows where my c**t is, sliding a nice path up and down my slit through my slick, puffy p***y lips.

I had you down as a hairy girl,he shouts in my ear, and I laugh. “No. Clean shaven. Always. I hand him back his beer. Nice and smooth. And wet. Sure am. I give him a cheeky grin.

Check it out. I squat a touch on my stilettos, swinging my hips in disguise, because I want his fingers inside me on the dancefloor.

I want him to f**k me to the knuckles, so my teasing means something. I wrap my arms around his neck, being careful with my expresso, since I wouldn’t want to waste any.

I want filthy, remember?” I say, my mouth on his ear. His fingers slide to my p***y, scissoring my c**t. Is this not filthy enough?

No, not even close. Fine, let’s ramp it up. He kisses a path from my lips to my throat, and pushes three fingers inside me, hard. It’s easy to use his hand for my pleasure since his rhythm matches the thump of the bass. Good work on his part.

But still, amongst it all, I’ve got my clutch bag held tight to my side, barely anything in there besides my phone – set to vibrate at maximum when my notification comes through.

The one that will instruct me to leave this place and head outside. I wonder if I can come before then.

To be fresh from a climax when I get assaulted in the darkness would really make my day. More fingers, I say. f**k me like you mean it. I groan as he pushes in a fourth, loving the stretch, even though I’m still sore as f**k from last night’s action.

I’m gonna work hard when we get out of here,” he says.

Show me how hard you can play, I tell him, working myself deeper onto his fingers.

Give me a filthy taster. I’ve always loved public playtime, especially when other people are blind to the filthy b***h I’m being, right in front of them.

I ride his fingers as I dance, and if the music wasn’t so loud, the squelches from my sopping wet p***y would be heard from a mile off.

He feels my excitement rising, twisting his f*****g fingers as I groan, and then he searches out my c**t with his thumb, digging between my p***y lips for the target. I’m almost there.

My breaths are heaving, and my mind is turning blank, and I’m over the f*****g moon at the achievement of coming on a packed dancefloor as my client stares on.I’m ready, I’m so f*****g ready. Until I feel the buzz of my phone in my clutch.