She offered me a very special gift for Valentine’s Day. She said she’d do anything I want — anything at all. What I want is for her to dance.
The lights are down low, with that cheesy disco-ball we bought at the thrift store sending little filaments of light all over the room. She starts the music. I’m sitting on the couch. When she enters the room, I’m mesmerized.
I’ve never seen this outfit before; she bought it especially for tonight. It’s a shimmering metallic red bikini, tiny and tight on her, making her breasts spill out, nothing more than a string up the crack of her ass. There’s a cheesy little heart on each breast cup and one on the crotch just above her pussy. She’s wearing high heels, which I never see her do. They’re red, and they match the bikini, glittering and metallic. She’s dyed her normally blonde hair with Manic Panic. She looks like a human Valentine.
And that’s exactly what she is.
She spins suggestively as she undulates to the slow-grinding, sexy music, surprisingly deft on those high, high heels.
She shimmies across the room, stands in front of me, bends over, revealing the tight crotch of the bikini. I can smell her pussy already. She wriggles her ass back toward me and I touch her, caressing her smooth buttocks. She wriggles away, turning around and winking at me, smiling. She licks her lips, runs her hands down over her breasts.
She pinches her nipples and they get hard. I can see them through the bikini top. She pinches and caresses them, easing the heart-shaped tops down to reveal her perfect breasts. She lifts them as far as she can toward her mouth and extends her tongue to lick them. She bends forward close to me, her breasts hanging out. She sings along with the music, some carnal ode to romantic whoopee.
She spins around again, bends forward, easing her butt back toward me. I reach between her legs and stroke her pussy through the G-string, and she snuggles closer, bends further forward. She leans on the sofa and pushes her crotch up toward my face. I can smell her pussy strongly, now, hungry and waiting. I pull the crotch of her G-string out of the way and stroke my fingers against her moist sex. She looks over her shoulder and blows me a kiss. I run my hands down her back as she sits in my lap and writhes, her ass grinding into my hard cock. My hands come up and I pinch her nipples. Her moans are lost in the music as she reaches back and runs her fingertips over my face.
“No touching, remember?” she giggles, and squirms out of my grasp, dancing across the room.
She sinks to the floor and puts her legs up, arching her back and running her fingertips down her belly, pressing them between her legs. She rubs her pussy through the metallic red material, pumping her hips suggestively. She makes eye contact with me, singing along with the song about how much she loves to fuck. Her breasts sway deliciously. She writhes to her feet and shrugs one strap of her top over her shoulder. She unhitches it. She slips off the heart-festooned garment and tosses it at me. I catch it neatly, pressing it to my face and smelling her perfume. I rub my crotch. She strokes her breasts, pinching her nipples again. Then she slides her hand down into her red metallic bottoms and I can tell she’s fucking herself with her middle finger.
When she climbs back into my lap, she draws her finger under my nose and I can smell her sex stronger than ever. I nip at it and she draws her fingers away, not letting me taste it. She rubs her breasts in my face. I try to suck the nipples; she leans back, not letting me have her. I wrap my arms around her and pull her hard onto me, planting my mouth on her breast. She relents, melting into my embrace. I tongue her nipple and she moans loud enough for me to hear her over the music. She straddles me and grinds her crotch into mine. She tries to pull away, and I hold her. She pushes harder, smiling flirtatiously.
“Please?” I beg her plaintively, “Please won’t you be my Valentine?”
“When you ask like that,” she coos, “I can’t resist.”
She leans forward onto me, letting me suckle her breasts. She reaches between us and starts to rub my cock through my pants.
Her palm wrapped around the bulge in my pants, she wriggles her way down onto her knees.
“I’ve got your Valentine right here,” she sighs.
She gets my pants open so fast I can tell she wants it as badly as I do. Her lips slide down over my cock and I moan. My hands run through her carmine-red hair. Her head bobs up and down in my lap.
Her lips and tongue work magic on my cock. I know I could come in her mouth. But I want more. I want to be inside her.
“Fuck me,” I beg.
Her head keeps bobbing as she looks up and devours me with her eyes. She slides her mouth off my cock and smiles.
She takes a step back and turns around, pulling her red bikini bottoms down over her gorgeous ass.
She climbs back into my lap, straddling me. She begins to kiss my ear as she grasps my cock and nuzzles the head between her pussy lips. I can feel how wet she is. She sinks down on top of me and moans, so loud this time that it almost drowns out the music. She starts to ease herself up and down on my cock, fucking me in time to the dance music. I suckle her nipples as she bounces up and down on top of me. She reaches between us and starts to rub her clit. I’m very close to coming, but she’s even closer. Her whole body goes rigid and she grasps me tight, shivering. I start to lift my hips rapidly, pounding my cock into her, and she slumps against me, undulating as her orgasm explodes through her. When I’m ready to come I grasp her buttocks tightly and guide her up and down on my cock, fucking her onto me as I explode deep inside her.
She wraps her arms around me again and cradles my head, kissing me. I tumble her onto the couch and hold her tight. The music grinds on, enveloping us in a bass-driven celebration of sleazy sex. She lays pressed against me on the couch, moaning softly under the music.
“Thanks for being my Valentine,” she sighs.
“Any year,” I smile. “As a matter of fact, any day at all.”