Another Guest Blog from a reader of mine. I love these stories… I hope you do too! Breaks up the ongoing stories I share.
I believe this was another bloggers stories, but I don’t have the link of where it is posted!
Bit of a short one, but a good one! Hahaha.
Hope you enjoy anyway.
Locked out of Heaven
I hadn’t been separated very long, and as any newly single woman does, I went through a bit of a wild phase.
My favourite drink went from hot milo to tequila, my clothes from mumsy to classy single lady on the prowl, hooker heels, red lips, and a whole lot of sass.
Now considering I’ve never been a huge drinker I had to learn to manage my drinks and to handle my liquor.
I was out with the girls, frocked up to the nines, a few drinks under my belt when I saw him. We had locked eyes a few times and I gave him that cheeky smile, liquor induced of course.
Bruno Mars Locked out of Heaven came on and I’d made up my mind. I wanted to dance. I wanted to sexy dance. I wanted to sexy dance with him.
So with that extra dutch courage I hopped down from the stool I was on and strutted over to him, lets just call him Mr Hottie. Not only because he was sexy as fuck, his body was rock hard muscle, but when my hands found their way under his shirt he was warm, no, hot, to touch. Argh! Got there way too early. Rewind…
As I swayed my hips over to Mr Hottie, I reached for his hand and asked him to dance expecting him to oblige, however, he chose this point that he decided to play shy and told me he couldn’t dance.
I laughed and told him “there’s no such thing as can’t dance. Dancing is just like sex and I bet you rock in bed”. Yep. Good old dutch courage because this girl would never have said that to a stranger sober.
And with that I led him to the dance floor, stood in front of him with my hands on my hips, rolled my hips and then raised my hands in the air and with one I slowly sexily ran one hand down the inside of my still raise arm, down my throat, between my breasts to my hip, then lifted my hand and bit my finger and purred to him “tell me you can’t dance again”, before hooking my finger into the keeper of his jeans above his crotch and pulled him toward me.
Girl was on fire!
I placed my hands on each of his hips and stood with one of his legs between my two. I whispered in his ear and gave him the sultriest look I could manage, “show me how you can dance, just pretend you are having sex”.
And as the music blared in the club we proceeded to sexy dance to the sound of Bruno Mars. Hips rolling, hands wandering, neck kissing, ear sucking, heart rates increasing.
And by the end of the song, Mr Hottie showed me he definitely could dance, and later on that evening he showed me that those dance moves were incredibly arousing, orgasm building, sexy as fuck sex moves as well.
And that ladies is my memory of Locked out of Heaven, Mr Hottie and the night I got crazy on tequila and had the confidence to approach the hottest guy in the club.
Thanks dutch courage. Love you!