Just as they reached the door to admit the first guest, she exclaimed, “Oops!”
“What is it?” He asked. “Forget something?”
“Well, yes,” she demurred, shooting him a sideways glance. “My panties.”
Giving her a sardonic look he hoped distracted from the sudden jump in the crotch of his loose khakis, he let his eyes travel to the full, emerald green silk skirt riding low on her hips and just brushing her knees.
“Better be careful when moving and especially turning then; that skirt looks like a flyer.”
Stifling a giggle, she gave him a look that said, “Is that the best you got?” and pulled open the door to greet the early arrivals.
Later, as the party swelled, and she was moving with unhurried grace through the throng, filling drinks and offering more food, she felt his eyes on her.
She whirled around quickly, causing the skirt to flare up and her deep copper hair to fly away from her back. The suddenness of her movement allowed her to catch him staring.
His eyes widened and he blushed, ever so slightly, received a half smile full of challenge from her, and turned his back, grinning. She was really begging for it.
And she was ahead, so far.
Not too much later, she was in the kitchen, standing on tiptoes, reaching into a high cupboard for more glasses which kept eluding her fingertips.
Suddenly she felt the length of him pressing into her back, warm and strong, and with no doubt as to what he was thinking about.
“Let me help you,” he breathed, right onto her neck, causing her entire body to break into goosebumps and making her bare kitty tingle.
He reached over her, pushing her harder into the countertop and taking the opportunity to press his hardness into her soft ass and grab her hip, digging his fingers into the side of her stomach. She was sure he’d left burn marks, and caught her breath. He brought down the glasses, one at a time, and set them in front of her.
Suddenly damp and a little dizzy, she turned to face him. He gave her a sweet, innocent smile, a kiss on the forehead, and then he was gone.
“Oh, the rat, I’ll get him for that one,” she thought, as the allowed herself one hard internal squeeze, savoring the ache and the moisture, then loaded a tray with glasses and moved back into the party.
Later, as he stood in a circle of five admirers, holding court, she slid up next to him, excused herself to the group, positioned herself in front of him, and whispered in his ear, “Check, mate,” as the bangle bracelet she had not been not wearing earlier slipped off her wrist and rolled between his spread legs, landing behind him.
“Oh, hold on, let me just get that,” she smirked as she crouched before him and reached between his legs, pressing the side of her face into his crotch. He hardened, suddenly, his cork throbbed, and his balls ached for her mouth.
He started to move back, sure that his little audience would see the movement the contact with her face was causing, when she appeared to lose her balance, and grabbed the inside of his upper thigh to steady herself.
“Bitch,” he thought, as his balls ached more intensely with the pressure from her shoulder.
“Just about got it, one second,” she almost sang, letting her hot breath bathe the crease between his stomach and thigh, knowing it went right though the thin fabric of his pants and briefs. She pressed the side of her face more firmly against him, and gripped his inner thigh harder, as she reached further back between his legs.
He was tempted, for just a moment, to “accidentally” empty his drink on her head, when she declared, “got it!”
As she emerged with her prize, her shoulder made very unsubtle contact with his balls. Torture, and she would pay.
He looked down at her to see her looking up at him, licking her lips.
“Nicely played, missy,” he thought with a smile as he helped her to her feet. “You’ll pay dearly, later,” he silently promised her.
“Sorry for the interruption, you guys, was just trying to see when we might want to start dancing.” She smiled sweetly at him and glided away, taking his eyes with her.
Dancing!?
As if she heard his thought, she stopped and looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair, and gave him the dirtiest look he’d ever seen.
He tried to pick up the thread of what he had been saying, but gave it up after a few incoherent seconds.
“If you’ll excuse me, folks, I think I’m needed to help make a dance floor.”
He made a beeline for her, barely maintaining politeness as he pushed through the happy crowd.
“Hiya! Help me move the couch back?” she chirped brightly to him.
“Anything, babe,” he growled, gratified that his bedroom voice made her blush.
They pushed the couch against the wall, then each took a side of the coffee table. As she bent over, she looked up at him, and he was mesmerized for a moment by the vision of her breasts almost escaping the low-cut top; nipples seemingly ready to make an appearance any moment.
Table moved, he approached her side, and, reaching in front of her to grab a lamp off the tall end table in front of her, allowed his inner arm to press strongly against her now-hard nipples, eliciting an extremely satisfying gasp from her.
He set the lamp on the windowsill behind him, and pressed into her back once more, ostensibly reaching around her for a china box, and pushed her swollen kitty onto the rounded corner of the table. Another gasp, a squirm, and that made it 3-3.
The next point was pivotal. He had to make her drip.
And pant.
And beg.
A bit later, as the impromptu dance floor filled with couples moving together, he spotted her deep in conversation across the room. Mind racing, he turned his back to the crowd, and adjusted his half-hard cock, trapping it under the waist band of his boxer briefs so that it pointed straight up. He turned back around to find her staring at him quizzically.
“Piss,” he mouthed to her, and walked out of her sight quickly, into the kitchen. He needed something to really get her going. He’d been hard, painfully hard, and half hard all night, and he knew he'd had her wet at least once. The time for the coup de grace was at hand.
He thought for a moment, and then his gaze cleared with the beginning of an idea. Not much, yet, but it was a start.
He headed back out, grabbing a fresh glass of wine and a crumbly hors de oeuvres. He made his way over to her, came up behind her, and “accidentally” touched the chilled glass to her bare shoulder, making her jump.
Attempting to apologize and eat his hors de oeuvres at the same time, he managed to spill half of the crumbs down her front—noting with pleasure that a few were trapped between her skin and the top—and dribble a little white wine on her sternum, as well.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” he said as he bent in and licked the trail of wine from her soft skin and then began to brush the crumbs from her breasts, pressing harder and harder against her tender nipples.
He saw and felt her breathing quicken. “There, think we got them all. No, wait,” he said as he slipped his fingers into the top of her blouse and grasped the few crumbs there, letting his fingers brush her rock hard nipples as he removed them.
She was speechless, for once, it seemed, and just gaped up at him with naked need in her eyes.
Still half behind her, he growled in her ear, “Here, babe, you take this wine, I’ll get another,” making sure that his hot breath flowed into and around her ear, and pressing the length of his stiff cork into her hip, hard, noting with pleasure as he brushed the “hot spot” on her neck that she was indeed radiating heat.
He left her, grabbed another glass of wine, then cornered her for a toast. They clinked glasses and drank, eyes lasered onto each other. Suddenly she appeared to have been bumped from behind. She stumbled forward, and steadied herself with a hand on his chest. She dug her nails in, for just a moment, and leaned close to him.
“Can you smell me? I’m dripping. Let’s dance,” she purred.
Now painfully hard and throbbing stronger than ever, he allowed himself to be lead to the middle of the crowd. She turned her back on him and began grinding her ass against his erection.
Safe in the crush of the crowd, he reached around and grasped a breast with one hand, and cupped her kitty with the other, rubbing the slick fabric of the skirt against her nakedness, and was rewarded with moisture and heat radiating through the thin fabric. He flicked his thumb against her hard nipple and pushed his cork against her honeyed ass as she pushed back into him, moving her hips in slow sweet circles against his hardness.
A sudden shift created a space around them and his hands dropped as she moved away from him, and twirled back, causing the skirt to flair dangerously.
Unfortunately, a happy guest took her spin as a cue, and grabbed her hand and began to whirl her around. Just as the guest was about to change the direction of her twirl and reveal her natural redheadedness to all, he stepped in and stopped her cold, shielding her wet, naked pussy from the crowd. “Sorry, man, this dance is mine,” he said, and the guest let her go and danced away.
With perfect timing, a slow song began, and he pulled her closer, her skirt still twisted a bit and riding up in front, trapped between them. He could feel the heat from her kitty through his pants, and he let his hand wander down to cup her ass.
She pressed against him, gripping his back and digging her nails in, drilling her hard nipples into his chest as she raised her face to him.
“Time to powder the proverbial,” she breathed, making his fully hard cork jump against her belly.
She traced her hands lightly down his back to his round ass, gave him a hard pinch, and then brought one hand around to squeeze his cork before turning away to make her way through the crowd.
Feigning the need to cool off, he freed his shirt tails, and pulled them down to cover the steel rod that threatened to rip out the front of his pants.
He hurried after her, and they weren’t even half way down the hall when he grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, pushing the breath from her body.
Her hands worked frantically to unzip his pants and free him from his briefs as he pushed her shoulders into the wall and crushed his lips to hers.
As soon as his cork sprang free, he grabbed both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head against the wall. His other hand traveled up her inner thigh under the skirt to her wetness. He throbbed again against her stomach as he parted her wet lips with his fingers. He slowly slid his index finger inside her, relishing her little sigh of frustration.
Feeling her squeeze his finger, he pulled it out and pushed in again with his index and middle finger.
“Ah, god,” she whined, as he slid his fingers out and brought them to his mouth and sucked every bit of her taste from them.
She began to beg, her eyes half closed, writhing against him, panting for his cock.
He followed the same route up her skirt to move it out of the way and moved closer. He grasped his rock hard cork with his free hand, and worked her legs farther apart. He dipped his knees a little, and slid his thickness into her, balls-deep, in a smooth and forceful motion.
“Oh, fuuuuuuck,” she cried softly as she felt him split her apart.
One thrust, filling her up completely, so hot and thick inside her, then he pulled halfway out and SLAMMED back in, hard, and she began to cum.
She pulsated against him, gasping, struggling to free her wrists from his grip. She panted, rhythmically, and tried to press herself more strongly onto him.
At last he released her wrists, and gripped her hips and began pistoning into her, harder and faster, til the paintings on the wall shook.
She gripped his back again, and dug her nails in, raking him through the thin cotton shirt, encouraging, needing him faster and deeper and harder.
“Ahhhhhhh,” his groan vibrated inside her, as he began letting loose, shooting hot and hard inside her. She felt the heat of his cum deep inside, burning her, and she ground onto him and felt the exquisite sweetness grow again in her center. She clutched him like a vise while digging her nails harder into his back, poking a few holes in his shirt, and drawing small points of blood.
He slid his hand under her ass, and still inside her, carried her to the bedroom.
They didn’t make it back to the party. 
