The Fantasy I Fulfilled with a Stranger on the Dance Floor

My name is Lorena, I’m twenty-nine years old, and that night I decided I wasn’t going to be just another woman. For weeks I’d been tangled up in work deadlines, meetings that never ended, and a phone that wouldn’t stop ringing. I needed to shut it all off. I needed to feel something that wasn’t exhaustion. I needed a hard cock inside me to make me forget my own name.

I put on a short dress, a dark green that looked black in the dim light, tight in all the right places. The neckline wasn’t outrageous, but it hinted at enough. Underneath, a tiny black thong, no bra: I wanted to feel the fabric brushing my nipples all night, have them hard beneath the dress, know that anyone who looked closely would notice. I put on heels that forced me to walk slowly, with my back straight, aware of every step. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I wasn’t looking to be loved. I wanted to be desired. I wanted someone to fuck me without asking me anything.

The club was packed when we arrived. Lights swept across the dance floor in white and red flashes, the bass burrowed beneath my skin, and the air smelled of perfume mixed with sweat and alcohol. My friends ordered the first round, and I let myself be carried straight to the center, where everyone moved like a single mass. I closed my eyes. I let the music use me.

And then I saw him.

He was leaning against the bar, wearing a dark shirt rolled up to his elbows and three days’ worth of stubble that made his jaw look harder. He wasn’t dancing. He wasn’t talking to anyone. He was simply watching, with the calm of someone accustomed to getting whatever he looked at. Our eyes met, and he didn’t look away. Neither did I.

He raised his glass a few inches, barely a gesture, a question without words. And I, instead of answering, kept dancing. But I danced for him. I turned slowly, letting the fabric of the dress move with my hips, letting my hair fall across my face. I knew he couldn’t take his eyes off me. That certainty turned me on more than any caress. I could already feel my pussy wet, the thong clinging to me, and he still hadn’t touched me.

Let him come to me. Let him make the first move.

And he did. He left the bar without hurry, crossed the dance floor, weaving between bodies, and when he reached my side he said nothing. His hand found my waist as if it had every right to be there. Firm. Certain. He drew me half an inch closer, just enough for me to feel the heat of his chest against my back.

We danced like that, pressed together, without introducing ourselves. He guided the movement with the pressure of his fingers on my hip, and I followed him, rubbing against him, teasing him. I felt his body responding to mine: his hard cock against my ass, showing through his pants, pushing against the fabric like a threat. I rubbed my ass against that bulge, slowly, in circles, and he pressed me harder against himself, letting me feel every inch.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said in my ear, his deep voice raising goose bumps along my nape.

“Maybe,” I replied, turning my face just slightly toward his. “What if that’s exactly what I came looking for?”

He didn’t answer with words. His hand moved a little higher along my side, brushed the curve of one breast over the dress, felt the hard nipple, and stopped there for a second, squeezing it between two fingers until a moan escaped me. Then it moved down my thigh, slipped beneath the hem of my dress, traveled upward along the inside, and touched my soaked thong with the tip of his middle finger.

“Look at you,” he murmured, with a smile that was more threat than caress. “You’re going to ruin my night.”

“What’s your name?” I asked, more out of curiosity than necessity.

“Does it matter?” he said, smiling crookedly.

It didn’t matter. That was the exact fantasy I had imagined so many nights: a nameless man, without a history, without a tomorrow. Just that night, that desire, that skin.

“There’s a hallway in the back,” he murmured. “Away from the noise.”

I took him by the hand. I don’t know where I found the courage—or perhaps it wasn’t courage, but something more urgent. I guided him through the crowd, my heart pounding against my chest with the same force as the bass. We passed my friends, who didn’t even notice, and disappeared down a narrow corridor leading to the bathrooms.

***

The last stall was empty. The moment I slid the bolt shut, he pushed me against the door and kissed me. It wasn’t a tender kiss. It was the kiss of a man who had been holding himself back for a while, hungry and deep. His tongue sought mine, one hand buried itself in my hair and tugged lightly, just enough to make me open my mouth wider, to surrender control to him. His other hand squeezed one of my tits over the dress, found the nipple, and pinched it hard enough to tear a moan from me into his mouth.

I grabbed his shirt, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric. I bit his lower lip, and he answered with a growl that went straight down to my belly. I slid one hand down the front of his pants and squeezed his cock through the fabric: it was hard as a rock, thick, pulsing beneath my palm. I stroked its entire length from top to bottom while we kept kissing, feeling it grow even harder. The club’s music reached us muffled, a distant heartbeat setting the rhythm for what was about to happen.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

I obeyed. I placed my hands against the cold wall, and he pressed himself against my back, one hand on my hip, the other tracing the edge of my dress, lifting it slowly until it was bunched around my waist. I felt his fingers on the bare skin of my thighs, his breath on my neck, and a shiver ran through me. He sank his teeth into my shoulder and licked it afterward, marking his territory.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he whispered. “Did you know what you were going to get?”

“I knew,” I admitted, my voice breaking.

He lowered my thong with calculated slowness, enjoying my impatience, until it hung from one thigh. He spread my ass cheeks with both hands and spent a second looking at me like that, exposed, my pussy wet and gleaming beneath the bathroom’s terrible light.

“You’re dripping,” he said, almost laughing. “What a hot little slut.”

He ran two fingers all along my slit, from back to front, gathering my wetness, and then pushed them both inside me at once. Both fingers, all the way in, in one motion. I screamed into my own arm, biting my skin so I wouldn’t draw attention. He began pumping slowly, searching for the spot inside me that made me clench my walls around his fingers, while his thumb circled my clitoris in slow circles.

“So willing,” he said. “So fucking tight.”

He knelt behind me, made me spread my legs farther, and ran his tongue over me from top to bottom. The first contact made me arch my back. He licked my entire pussy with long, slow strokes, then focused on my clitoris and sucked it, nibbled it, flicked it with the tip of his tongue. His fingers went back inside me, three this time, opening me up, while his mouth kept working me. I pressed my lips together to keep from screaming, aware that anyone could walk into the bathroom, and that thought, far from stopping me, turned me on even more. I bit my own hand, trembling, feeling pleasure build in waves that grew shorter and shorter.

“Come in my mouth,” he said, his voice muffled against my thighs. “Now.”

My orgasm struck suddenly, without warning, buckling my knees. I came across his face, pushing my ass against his tongue, squeezing his fingers with my pussy in uncontrollable spasms. He held me firmly by the hip so I wouldn’t fall, never stopping licking me until the last tremor left my body, sucking up every drop as if I owed him something.

I rose slightly and reached for him with my hand. I wanted to give him back some of what he had given me. I turned around, gently pushed him until his back touched the wall, and lowered myself this time. I opened his belt, undid the button and zipper, and yanked his pants and boxers down to his thighs. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, its tip swollen and a clear drop sliding down the head. My mouth watered.

I took it in one hand at the base and ran my tongue from his balls to the tip, slowly, savoring him, looking up at him from below. Then I took his entire cock into my mouth in one go, as deep as I could, until I felt it hit the back of my throat. I heard him hold his breath, felt his fingers tangle in my hair, gripping me firmly, guiding me, setting a rhythm that I followed eagerly.

“Fuck, just like that,” he panted. “Exactly like that, suck it all.”

I sucked his cock hungrily, pulling it out to lick his balls and swallowing it whole again, letting saliva run down my chin. With my free hand I caressed my breasts over the dress, squeezing them, tugging my nipples. I looked up at him while I did it, enjoying the power I had over him in that moment, the way his control came undone with every movement of my tongue. I felt his thighs tense, felt his cock swell harder against my palate. But he didn’t let me finish. He took me by the arms, stood me up, and turned me back against the wall.

“Not yet,” he said, breathing hard. “I want to come with my cock inside you.”

He arched me, pulled my ass backward with a sharp slap on my buttock that made me jump, and positioned himself behind me. I felt the hot tip move along my slit, soaking itself in my wetness, rubbing against my clitoris, playing with me. I pushed my hips backward, searching for him, desperate.

“Put it in me,” I begged. “Put it in me now, please.”

He entered me in one thrust, all the way to the bottom, deep, ripping a moan from me that I couldn’t silence. I felt him opening me, filling me completely, his cock touching places no one had touched in months. He stayed still for a second, letting me feel every inch, and then began to move. His rhythm was firm and deliberate; every thrust drove me against the wall and stole my breath. His hips struck my ass with a wet sound that reverberated inside the stall. One hand held my hip; the other rose to my neck, not squeezing, merely encircling it, reminding me who was in control.

“Tell me this is what you wanted,” he murmured against my ear. “Tell me you wanted me to fuck you like some little slut.”

“It’s what I wanted,” I answered, and it was true. “Harder. More.”

He pounded me harder, nearly pulling all the way out before driving back in to the hilt, again and again. His other hand found my clitoris from the front and began rubbing it in circles in time with his thrusts. I moved with him, meeting him, wanting him deeper. I felt a moistened finger move over my other hole, pressing lightly, and I didn’t stop him. The sound of our bodies colliding mingled with the distant music and my own frantic breathing. I felt another orgasm beginning to form, different from the first, slower and more intense, building from the deepest place inside me.

He turned me around again, lifted me onto the edge of the sink, and plunged into me once more, face-to-face this time. He wanted to see me. He wanted me to see him. He pushed my dress up to my neck, licked my nipples, took them into his mouth one after the other, sucking them until I twisted beneath him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, crossing them over his ass, pulling him toward me with every thrust. We held each other’s gaze while pleasure consumed us both, without words, without names, just two strangers caught in the same desire.

“I can’t hold out any longer,” I confessed, locking my legs around him. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Come with my cock inside you,” he urged, thrusting faster. “And let me come inside you.”

“Yes, inside, all of it inside.”

And we did, almost at the same time. I came undone in a long tremor that shook my whole body, squeezing his cock with my pussy in violent spasms, moaning against his shoulder without caring about anything anymore; he followed with a hoarse groan, driving into me to the hilt and staying there, emptying himself inside me in hot spurts that I felt one by one. He held himself against my chest, his forehead resting on my shoulder, his cock still hard and pulsing inside me while we both caught our breath.

When he finally pulled out, I felt his semen slowly trickle down the insides of my thighs. He looked at it, crouched down, gathered some on two fingers, and put them in my mouth. I sucked them clean without looking away.

***

We stayed like that for a few seconds, embracing, sweaty, listening as the world outside kept dancing, oblivious to everything. He brushed a strand of hair from my face with a tenderness that didn’t fit the fury of a moment earlier.

“We have to get out before someone gets suspicious,” he said, his voice still rough.

He helped me down. I cleaned myself between the legs with toilet paper, pulled my soaked thong and dress back into place, and ran my fingers through my hair in front of the fogged mirror. He pulled up his pants, straightened his shirt, ran a hand over his beard, and for a moment he was just an ordinary stranger leaning against a wall again.

“You really aren’t going to tell me your name?” I asked, half joking.

“If I tell you, it stops being what it was,” he replied. “And what it was was perfect just like that.”

He was right. A name would have ruined it. It would have turned him into someone to write to, someone to wait for, someone to miss. And I hadn’t gone there looking for any of that.

We left separately, a few minutes apart, as if nothing had happened. I went back to my friends, who were still laughing on the dance floor, and no one noticed a thing. But I felt it. His semen still warm between my thighs, my pussy throbbing, the marks of his fingers on my hip. I carried him inside me, still vibrating, like a hot secret that belonged only to me.

I searched for him with my eyes one last time before leaving. He was back at the bar, glass in hand, watching the crowd with that same calm of his. He saw me. He raised his glass a few inches, just as he had at the beginning. I smiled at him and didn’t go over.

Some fantasies only work if you fulfill them once. That night I had fulfilled mine completely, and I stepped out into the street feeling more alive than I had in a very long time, desire still throbbing between my legs and certain that I didn’t need to see him again to remember him for the rest of my life.