Dancing in the street, along with hundreds of other revelers, as the latest Soca blared from the truck. She was fully under her rum and in her zone, along with hundreds of others, so she didn’t really mind when yet another rhythmless stud attempted to wine up on her bumper. She looked over her shoulder, gave him a quick once over and then wined Mr Rhythmless into oblivion and back again. The wine was so powerful that he lost his balance and fell over; smiling, she helped him up and then sent him on his way, much to his dismay.
“Chooooone” she shouted as her latest Soca jam came on.
She took another swig from her flask and allowed her body to be transported to her happiest of happy places. Eyes closed, arms swinging high in the air, singing tunelessly at the top of her voice, along with hundreds of others; Monique was clearly on the same if not better vibe. She swayed along with the crowd as the upbeat tempo got louder; the truck came to yet another standstill and that’s when she felt the bulge in his trousers as he danced behind her. She was about to push him away, but then realised it was the same cute guy that she was eyeing up at the tube station earlier on. Smiling, she gave in and relaxed into his wine, bulge included.
Relaxing into his wine, she allowed him to dictate the pace so that she could a) find his rhythm and b) savour the feeling of his bulge. He attempted to whisper something in her ear, his lips brushed across her cheek in the process. She inhaled the subtle whiff of alcohol and shook her head.
Shrugging her shoulders, she shouted “No point tryna whisper, I can’t hear a word you’re saying”
“I said, your bumper is making my boy stand firm”
“I know, why do you think I’m still dancing with you” she laughed
“And there’s me thinking it’s because of my sweet wine and good looks”
“Those good looks are a bonus” she winked.
Before he could say another word, she switched it up and dictated the wine. He held onto her waist as if they were one and allowed himself to be wined all the way to paradise via the scenic route and back again. He hoped the wine would take him all the way to paradise; her paradise… Monique, along with hundreds of others, cheered and waved her arms as the DJ pulled up the song for the third time. He spun her around, held her hands and waved them in the air, still, as if they were one. The heat from her body sent little tremors racing through him and straight to his bulge. He groaned as his ‘boy’ struggled beneath the ever-increasing tightness of his shorts. It didn’t help that her erect nipples made a small tent in her vest top, causing even more pressure to build up within him.Sensing his discomfort, she attempted to pull away from him, but he held her tight and begged her to keep dancing with him.
“Self-control is normally easy, but you’re on a totally different vibe to everyone else, making it hard for me”“In more ways than one”
“I’m trying babes, but your wine has got me whipped!”
Monique rested her arms on his shoulders and locked her hands behind his neck; pulling him close, she kissed him, lingering and enjoying the feel of his soft lips. She pulled back quickly before the urge to shove her tongue down his throat became too strong for her to resist. He leaned back in and kissed her as she kissed him, soft and lingering. Looking deep into her eyes didn’t help the tightness in his shorts though.
“Babes, what are you doing to me? How are you doing this to me, and I don’t even know your name?”
She didn’t answer but kissed him again and pulled away to take a swig from a bottle she produced from thin air, offering him a swig too.
“Is this the only way I can get to taste you?” he asked after taking a mouthful
“Damn, this is strong!”
She was more than generous with the amount of rum she added to the punch; she laughed as he made faces in protest of the strong stuff, but yet still drank more.
“Is drinking from your bottle the only way I can get to taste you?”
“At the moment yes!”
“Well, what’s a guy gotta do to be able to taste you properly? Sharing your drink isn’t the tasting I had in mind.”
She couldn’t think of a witty response, so instead she turned and carried on dancing. A million and one thoughts running through her mind. She wrestled with her internal dialogue whilst wining da fuck out of her waistline and his too!
‘He’s cute, he’s packing, he can dance, he’s fit, got nice shoulders, very soft juicy lips and can really dance, but can he fuck, and can he eat? Those lips feel like they can do some serious damage though. Should I give him something to eat or not? If yes, when and where? If not, why not?’
To be continued…