Welcome to my A to Z Challenge Blog! Like or comment on this post, or vote at the end of the week for your favorites and I’ll continue the top four stories next month! (For details, see my Theme Reveal.) For the third week, there is no theme! Anything goes in these erotic stories. Don’t forget to come back for Week 4 (Non-consent). Without further ado, enjoy P is for Pride.
The word “pride” can be associated with so many different things. Gay pride is the first that comes to my mind, but that’s because I have several family members who are gay. Then there’s a pride of lions. But the first actual definition is “a feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements.”
I always felt proud of who I was. Proud of the independent woman I had become. But maybe I had been a bit too prideful. That was never more apparent than the first time I chose to submit to someone. But before you think this is all sorts of shades of a nondescript color, that is nowhere near what my story is like. Want to hear it?
I was 18 years old and had gotten my acceptance into a prestigious university. Coming from a wealthy family, I wasn’t worried about how I was going to pay for it. I wasn’t concerned with applying for scholarships. My friends wanted to go out and party, and I agreed. We went to my friend’s house while her work-a-holic parents were out and started drinking. I only had one drink, but some of my friends had considerably more. They wanted to go dancing, so we went to the local gay bar. It was generally safer than anywhere else, and they allowed 18-year-olds in on some nights.
We entered, and I am pretty sure the bouncer knew that some of us were not 100% sober, but she didn’t say anything. We paid our admission and went into the club. The DJ was already playing a hot dance number, and we were on the dance floor within seconds. Three songs later, I needed a break. They were all running on adrenaline and the remnants of alcohol, but my alcohol had long since worn off, and my feet hurt more than I wanted to admit.
I found an empty seat at the bar and sat down. Before I even had a chance to order a soda, someone took the bar stool next to mine.
“What can I get you?” a tall, willowy woman asked from beside me.
“Me?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah, I’m going to buy you a drink.”
I wanted to say, “Uh, who are you?” but I didn’t. I couldn’t figure out what this woman’s angle was and until I did, I wasn’t going to be openly rude. Besides, my friends were all still on the dance floor.
“What can I get you?” she repeated.
“A soda,” I replied.
She nodded and signaled the bartender who immediately dropped what he was doing to take her order. She ordered two sodas and handed one to me when it came.
“I’m Samita,” she said.
I extended my hand to her in the polite way I had been taught, “I’m Laura.”
“Cute,” she said under her breath, and she shook my hand.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she said.
“I don’t come often,” I said.
“Well, maybe we can change that,” she replied and slipped off the bar stool.
I watched her walk a few steps and debated whether or not I should follow her. Part of me wanted to, but a part of me, my pride probably, told me not to. In the end, I let her walk away. I drained my soda and went to dance with my friends.
But after another song, they wanted a break, and I quickly found myself alone on the dance floor. I sighed inwardly, but the song that had just started was my favorite, and I wasn’t keen on leaving the dance floor just as it began. I kept swaying to the music by myself, and soon I felt hands on my hips. I turned my head back so I could see who it was, and I was unsurprised to see that it was Samita.
I smiled at her, and she kept her hands on my hips and danced with me. Soon she was grinding her hips against mine, and I was grinding back at her. Before I knew it, she had turned me around, and we were practically dry humping on the dance floor. I had never been so turned on in my life, and I had no idea where it had come from.
As the song came to an end, her movements slowed, and she pulled me closer to her so that our whole bodies were touching. Then she kissed me.
It was so unexpected that I opened my mouth to her and gave her complete access to me without meaning to. But something about it felt so right. I felt the music pick up again and bodies around us were moving in time to the music, but the two of us stood there in the middle of it all, our lips locked together. I didn’t even realize what I was doing when my hands slid around her waist.
She broke the kiss and licked down my jawline right to my ear. I could just make out the words she said, “Come home with me.”
I just nodded yes.
Little did I know, that one slight movement of my head would change the course of my life.
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3 thoughts on “P is for Pride #AtoZChallenge”
I wonder if it changed her life for better or for worse… Definitely one that needs to be continued.
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Great post, and what a powerful experience. I wasn’t sure when I was reading the first couple paragraphs about where this piece was going to go, but I think that added power to the piece. Nicely written.
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