Toxic

This was it.

The moment you've been waiting for.

The lights in the venue dimmed, a spotlight carved a perfect circle on the empty stage. You couldn't help but to fidget with your hands in your seat, you knew what was coming.

Chaeyoung.

Her solo.

Toxic.

The familiar synth line sliced the tension in the air. At first appearing as a silhouette in the dark she strutted into the light with a slow, confident stride. You could see the concentration in her eyes.

Baby can't you see, I'm calling? A guy like you...

Her hips began to roll. Each thrust was precise, yet dripping with all of the innuendo. The riding motions were there, unmistakable. Her shorts rode up that heart shaped ass of hers as she dropped into a deep squat, grinding against the air.

The temperature was rising, you were sweating. The crowd roared but you didn’t hear them. Looking at her, all you could think about was the sweat and hours you both put into that routine.

Plap.....plap........plap............plap.......................plap………..

"Fuckkkkkk yes. That was better."

The smell of hard work hung in the air of the practice room. The full wall of mirrors reflected you and her. Chaeyoung was drenched, her leggings and crop top on the ground next to you, her hair up in a messy bun, her face flushed.

“Okay, let's do it one more time from the top,” she said, her voice breathless as she started the song over yet again. “I need make sure this routine sticks.”

She had you straddled as you laid on the practice floor. Her breasts were slick with sweat, rivulets running down her fit and tight body, her ass glued to your thighs. You were already inside her, buried to the hilt, both of you trying to catch your breath from the previous rounds.

“Just help me with this, one last time,” she whispered, her forehead damp against yours.

She started the routine, her hips carving the same arcs they now performed on stage. But here, she wasn't doing them on air. Here, she was doing them right on top of you.

Glrk. The wet, slick sound of her sliding up your length.

Plap. The muffled, juicy pop as she sank back down, taking you to the base.

Her thighs trembling with effort, her muscles clenching around you.

Plap......plap.......plap.......plap……

You watched her face, the playful energy long gone, replaced by an intense focus. She was practicing hard, but you could tell she was also really feeling herself. Every roll of her hips sent a shock up your spine. For the past what felt like an hour you’d already cum inside her twice and she had used your face for what she called a warm up. Your balls were aching and empty, your mind was fried, but the friction and heat kept you wanting more.

She didn't miss a beat while riding you, her toned thighs flexing as she worked your length like it was part of the choreography. The sweat glazing your bodies showed how hard she was grinding into you, how deep you were buried inside her.

Plap......plap.....plap....plap…

Every time she lifted herself up, your length glistened, slick with a mixture of you and her. Then she’d drop her hips back down, gripping you like she was trying to milk every last drop you had left. If there was any left.

The mirrors reflected it all, the way her ass jiggled with every bounce, the way your hands dug into her hips. Her breath came in ragged pants. “Fuck, just like that,” encouraging more herself than you as she figured out exactly how she wanted to do the moves. Her nails scraped down your chest and abs, leaving faint pink trails on your skin. You watched it in the mirror, mesmerized by how filthy it all was.

Plap...plap...plap...plap…

The mirrors were fogged, the glass streaked with condensation as your bodies steamed up the room. You wanted to remember this forever, the way she looked right now, sweaty, exhausted, but wanting, needing more.

As the final crescendo of the song approached she leaned down, her lips brushing your ear.

Plap...plap..plap..plap..

She whispered.

“For this last part… put a finger in my ass. I need the… the full feeling to make sure I nail this.”

Your breath stopped. All you could do was nod, your hand shaking as you reached around her slick hip. After coating your finger in a mix of sweat and juices from where your length met her folds, you found the tight, resistant ring of her other hole.

You pressed in. She arched backwards.

“Ahhhh!”

Slrk. The sound of your finger sinking in.

As her thighs seized you, her insides pulsed around your length, her ass squeezed your finger. She now had a new, frantic rhythm, a perfect imitation of the dance’s final moves.

Plap..plap..plap..plap..

It was all for the performance.

The sensation overloaded you.

Plap...

The heat.

Plap...

The tightness.

Plap...

The sweat.

Plap...

The rawness of her body working yours.

Plap...

You couldn't take anymore. You erupted.