God, my college years are such a hazy mix of classes, parties, and shows that all kind of melt together. But this one night at the County Fairgrounds for Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers still gets me wet just thinking about it.
We rolled up with a big group of friends, all hyped to hear “American Girl” live. General admission was packed, bodies everywhere, the energy buzzing through the crowd. Then the inevitable happened — the surge hit and I got separated from everyone. Instead of stressing, I just gave in to the music. I was dancing hard, my t-shirt clinging to my sweaty tits, jean skirt swirling around my thighs, that hoodie tied around my waist long forgotten.
That’s when I felt him slide up behind me. Slightly older, confident, no words, no eye contact at first. We just started moving together, perfectly in sync with the bass. It didn’t take long before it turned filthy. I could feel his thick, hard cock grinding right against my ass through his jeans, pressing into me with every beat. My pussy was instantly soaked.
He grabbed my hips firmly and let one hand roam. It slid down my leg, then slowly back up the inside of my thigh. I widened my stance like a total slut, inviting him without saying a thing. His fingers slipped under my skirt, brushing over my drenched panties before pushing them aside. Fuck… he ran them along my slick lips and started rubbing my clit in tight, perfect circles, matching the rhythm of the song.
As the music built to that huge crescendo, so did I. I came hard right there in the middle of the crowd — legs shaking, pussy pulsing, biting my lip so I wouldn’t moan like a whore in front of everyone. The orgasm washed over me in golden waves while Tom Petty played on.
Still flushed and trembling, I finally turned around, looked him dead in the eyes, and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss. Tongues, heat, pure lust. After a minute I broke away with a naughty little smile, then slipped back into the crowd to find my friends, still tasting him on my lips and feeling that delicious ache between my thighs.
Tom Petty sang about not backing down that night… and neither did I. Just another filthy, perfect memory from my wild college daze. I fucking loved nights like these.
These tiny pink panties were the only thing covering my dripping wet pussy while I sit here spread out on the balcony. I’m so turned on by the idea of strangers seeing what a desperate slut I am. I want someone to catch me, pull them to the side, and fuck me stupid right here. Tell me how you’d ruin me 💦
titsay
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis