My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon

“You . . . you have me,” Abigail responds, but there’s a question in her eyes. She can feel that I’m saying more but isn’t pushing me. Not yet.

The music comes to an end, and I finish with a big spinning lift that has our lips a paper’s thickness apart.

Well, of course we make it through. Emily and Doug, I note, make it through as well, mainly because while Doug dances like he dresses, about as bland as beige khakis, he at least can keep to a basic rhythm.

Off to the far side of the floor, I see Janey dancing with a trio of young girls, all of whom made it too.

“Partner up,” the voice announces. “It doesn’t have to be someone you know, but be warned, you’ll know them after this.”

Chairs are brought out and placed around the dance floor. I see guys starting to sit down, so I do the same. Janey’s got one of her new friends seated in front of her.

A slow, sexy synth beat starts, and Abigail jumps up and down, clapping as she gives me a huge grin. “Oh, my God, I know this one!”

I think she means the song, but doesn’t everyone know Ginuwine’s Pony? Not that I watched Magic Mike, but I’ve been known to dance to this a time or two myself in the club.

Abigail does a slow, seductive sway of her hips. “When I go to the gym with Courtney, this is a song in Zumba class. I don’t remember exactly how it goes, but I think I can fake my way through well enough.”

I growl at the way she’s tracing her hands over her circling hips. “Doing great, mia rosa.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she warns sassily, confidence oozing from her now

She’s right. She rolls her hips, flirts with the hem of her dress, drops it down, butterflies her legs open, and a whole bunch of other moves she apparently learned in this class. All the while, she takes every opportunity to rub herself against me, driving me wild.

My cock is rock hard in my swimsuit, hungry to be buried inside Abigail’s warm sweetness once again.

She slides down my body, biting her lip suggestively as she looks squarely at the bulge in my shorts then up to my eyes. If we weren’t in the middle of the dance floor, I would tease her lips open with the head of my cock and let her suck me.

But the people clapping remind me that I can’t do that here. I fist the chair to stay steady, fighting for control.

Abigail keeps going with her seductive dance, turning around and placing her hands on my knees to grind against my lap. She throws her head back and whispers, “You ready for this?”

“Anything,” I vow.

She moves her hands down my legs to the floor and then carefully lifts one leg and then the other to my shoulders, bending herself into an L shape. It’s almost like we’re in yoga class again and she’s doing handstands.

Oh, mio Dio, is there anything this woman can’t do?

Her dress sags, letting me see up it to her core, which is covered by a tiny black swimsuit.

Before I know what’s happening, Abigail has bent her knees, which with her feet hooked over my shoulders, pulls my face directly toward her ass. I smash nose first into her pussy and can hear the shocked laughter from the crowd. Quick as can be, she does it again and again.

I laugh in surprise at her boldness.

Good-naturedly, I grab her hips and hold her in place to growl against her. She’s having a bit of fun at my expense, but I can smell her arousal.

The song ends and there are huge amounts of applause, and I even hear a few whistles tossed our way. But she’s all mine, and when it’s time to switch, I push her toward the chair, where she sits down primly as though I don’t know that she’s a gushing fountain for me.

There’s a bit of laughter as the other guys stand up, and it’s pretty clear that I’m not the only one sporting wood. Unashamed, I adjust myself, knowing that Abigail is watching my every move.

“Next round,” the announcer calls.

Surprisingly, I see that Janey got tapped out. I feel certain that it wasn’t for lack of dance skills, though, so if what Abigail did got cheers, what in the world did Janey do? Actually strip?

Also, Emily is now sitting in a chair with a wicked smile of satisfaction on her lips. I guess she got through that round too.

For this round, the song’s just as naughty and dirty, Beyonce’s Drunk In Love. It’s not a song I know well, not common in kitchens, but it doesn’t matter. They could be playing bagpipe polka music and I would still dance for Abigail.