Girls Night Out Adjusted

I couldn't wait for the next session of our girls Friday evening sessions but sadly one of the other women had a family conflict and we all decided to skip a month. I was terribly disappointed but there was not much that I could do about it except wait patiently. Or so I thought. The week after the lunch during which the three of us who work together had made the cancellation I received a call from Beth. Beth asked if I would be interested in seeing her for a massage session instead of having our regular girls night our.

I was a little nervous abut agreeing since it almost seemed like being dishonest to my friends and when I expressed my hesitation, Beth asked if I would meet her after work for drinks instead. When I agreed she dictated the address of a bar that I had never visited. We agreed to meet right after work. She was in front of the place when I arrived and took my arm guiding me into the place. It was dark and music was playing, and there was the distinct smell of food coming from the kitchen.

'Hungry?' she asked as we sat at a corner table.

'Starved,' I answered.

We ordered wine and appetizers and as soon as the waitress had left the table I began to notice that there were absolutely no men in the place. In fact the dance floor was half filled with women dancing with each other. It suddenly dawned on me that I was at a lesbian bar. Sensing my discomfort, Beth touched my hand and whispered that I had nothing to worry about. That it was a nice place and there was a strict honour code among the clients. 'Lots of married women from downtown come here and the regulars don't bother them,' she added.

After a few sips of our drinks Beth asked if I wanted to dance, and before I could object she pulled me up and led me to the dance floor where a slow song was playing. A moment later all of my discomfort had been replaced by the feelings of being held in a slow embrace as Beth pulled me close to her. She was wearing a simple dress, one that seemed almost shapeless and hung from her broad shoulders. As I melted into her embrace I could suddenly feel her breasts through the thin cotton fabric. She was obviously not wearing a bra and as we touched each other her hard nipples protruded and brushed against my body.

When the song ended she hugged me and guided my hand against her bottom. When my hand grazed against her cheeks it was obvious that she was not wearing panties either. 'The best dancing happens when both partners get rid of their underwear,' she whispered into my ear pointing to the ladies room. 'I'll be waiting for you,' she sighed.

For more than an hour we danced seductively pressing against each others bodies and we were not the only couple that were dirty dancing. All around us couples were pressing against each other and kissing as they danced. 'It's a groping floor not a dancing floor, Beth laughed.

The sexual tension was electric on the dance floor as several other couples ground against each other and their quiet moaning and breathing encouraged me to forget my normal inhibitions. There I was in my work clothing minus the bra and panties that I had stuffed into my purse, undulating against Beth and feeling her nipples against me. Then as she danced us into the back part of the floor her fingers found their way under my blouse and to my nipples.

As Beth squeezed my breasts and fingered my nipples I could suddenly feel her warmth pressing against my leg. The engorged clitoris that had become the object of most of my sexual fantasies was pressing against my thigh and as we danced she rubbed it up and down all the while making a little gasping sound deep in her throat. My fingers found their way up her thigh and into her dress and began to caress her bottom as I pulled her toward me, and then quite suddenly she let out a low groan and slumped into my arms, simultaneously humping against my thigh which I pressed into her.

Our noise making had attracted some attention and as Beth recovered from her orgasm, I noticed that several of the other couples were smiling and nodding. When we walked back to our table I noticed a telltale wet spot on the fabric of her dress. When I mentioned it to her she laughed and apologized. 'I don't usually cum so fast' she said. 'It's not polite.'

Then she pointed to my dress which was also wet at the place where we had been touching. We finished the appetizer and Beth led me to the ladies room where I had changed out of my underwear. 'Better fix that' she whispered. 'You have to go home.'

In the ladies room we both went into a stall and she extracted a spray bottle of stain guard which she applied to my dress. 'Can't have you leaving a lesbian bar looking like this,' she laughed. As she rubbed the spot her fingers slipped inside my dress and then in one motion she guided me toward the toilet and helped me to sit. Then her fingers found their way down my legs and as we began kissing she entered my very wet vagina and began to caress the spot just below my clitoris. I gasped and she continued to place pressure in just the right places. I gasped and began to moan.

Just as I began to worry about the noises that we were making. The squishing sounds of her fingers touching me and the gasping that I was doing on each stroke, Beth read my mind and whispered that I should just let go, 'Everyone does this in here,' she added. And as if on cue I suddenly began to hear the sounds of sex coming from other cubicles.

The entire sexually charged room became too much for me very quickly and I erupted in a loud and violent climax, clamping down on Beth's fingers as I moaned in sexual pain.

When I had calmed down I replaced my underwear and told Beth that I should get home. She asked me to wait for just another minute. Then she unbuttoned her dress so that she was facing me and naked except for the dress that was hanging on her shoulders like a vest and she began to furiously masturbate whilst staring into my eyes. Her clitoris was growing again and it was almost at eye level as I sat on the toilet and she stood facing me. 'Please touch it,' she moaned.

She stroked her clitoral hood and with each repetition the actual pink shaft popped out extending by more than an inch each time. I licked my finger and pressed the end of the tip of her clit on each stroke. Her orgasm, even though it was her second, was more violent than my own. She groaned and gasped and fell into me as her body convulsed into a series of spasms. She was so loud that someone from outside the cubicle laughingly asked if everything was OK.

We wobbled out of the bar arm in arm, kissed and said goodnight. 'See you next month' she whispered, as we parted our ways.