Tags: Soft vore, nekidness, dancing, 80’s funk, strip tease, nalgas, female/male naughty bits
This chapter is best enjoyed listening to Oliver Cheatham’s ‘Get Down Saturday Night.’ Enjoy.
*Ch 9 – Some Like The Party, Some Like The Dance, Some Like to Make Romance*
Andrew’s mind snapped back to attention- predator?
There was something about that word- something… Dangerous, he vaguely recalled.
He only just put his thoughts together when Darcy opened her mouth and pressed her head forward, faster than heat lightning. His legs could only half react as he smelled, saw, felt her nimble tongue wrap around his body, forcing him to collide with a waiting cheek and be drawn into the giantess’ waiting mouth.
In he went, her rouge lips wrapping around the tiny man’s waist and feeling his arms and hands push against her tongue. She was very careful not to bite with her teeth, but instead caught him firm between the muscles of her lips, being oh so careful.
She was… well, enraptured. Stupified. Compeltely enamored with what she was doing, hardly believing the feelings she was having. The idea had come in a flash, and before she knew what she was doing, she had Andrew in her mouth.
I have, she thought, her heart racing, a tiny man in my mouth. I could literally swallow and feel him writhe down my throat and into my stomach. I could feel him in there, wriggling and swimming my tummy.
Such thoughts came unbidden, but Darcy amused them briefly. She was no cannibal, and she would never eat anyone, Andrew least of all. Still.
It felt good. Goddamn good. Better than anything she’d ever had before. It was strange, she found, that how welcoming she was of the feelings she had shunned not a day ago- letting her mind wander at Tino’s. Pretending to bite into the little man. Washing him between her cheeks. Passing between her teeth using her tongue. Biting down firmly on the writhing piece of flesh. It was strange, now, that it was something that had turned her on to a degree beyond description. No harlequin novel, no late night film, no down and dirty wham bam thank you ma’am foxtrot uniform charlie kilo with any boyfriend had revved her engine quite like this.
Her hand reached down and was unsurprised to find herself moist, even through the soft lace.
She had to tell him.
She lashed her tongue across his face gently, feeling his hands try and grab her. Suddenly concerned he might not be getting enough air, she promptly sucked Andrew into her mouth, slurping him up like she had with her alfredo that night. She giggled at the thought- it was just too funny not to. She felt him bounce around, then, as she laughed, being sure to suck some fresh air in, passed him closer to the back of her mouth, right between her molars.
Thinking it was crazy but not giving a damn, she experimentally bit down very softly, feeling Andrew’s body give ever so slightly. It was like chewing on a piece of rubber, she thought.
She held him there, lightly flicking her tongue across what she thought was his hands. Concerned again that he wasn’t getting enough air, she kept her jaw pinned shut but let her mouth open, exaggerating her breath and passing air back and forth from her lungs. Mercifully, and with no small relief, she felt Andrew’s tiny respiration pressing against her teeth and pushing up, down, up, down. He’s breathing, she thought.
After a moment’s respite, she closed her mouth again and loosened her grip on him. Using her tongue, she corralled him to the center of her mouth and pressed him up to the slick roof.
She started to suck softly, letting the pressure of each pull caress Andrew over his body. Darcy found herself remembering those cinnamon candies she got from her dad when she was a kid- the way they would melt in her mouth and she could slurp up the juices for hours on a single piece.
She felt like she could do that now, she realized…
But that probably wasn’t a good idea- Andrew was probably very fond of air in his lungs. And, of course, the whole not being eaten thing.
Using her tongue to flip him around and down away from her roof, she opened her mouth slightly and pushed what she hoped was his upper half out of her mouth- she was relieved to hear him coughing to clear out his throat.
A sudden pang of guilt. She hoped that she didn’t overdo it in her indulgence and hurt him…
“D… Darcy…” he sputtered between chokes. “That… that was… incredible.”
She felt her lips cocoon around him again, her smile widening on her mouth. She felt relieved.
“I mean, scary as hell, yeah, but,” he rested his hands behind his head and smiled up at her- something she could barely see, in fact, without pursing her lips forward. “Pretty amazing stuff.”
She mmm’d in agreement, and he immediately shivered. Something about the vibration in her voice, she realized. She got an idea.
“Your tongue, it was like… Mm.” His talk was interrupted as he felt that same muscle flick across his bare feet. It was soft, yes, even loving at first, but it became more… Predatory. Less of a caress and more of a tasting.
Her tongue worked over his feet, and then his legs, building and cresting and falling in pressure. She stroked each leg with her tongue, felt his tense muscles under wen his pants. It made for a weird taste, but that didn’t matter to her.
She dared, and, with a little giggle, she passed her tongue long over the bulge she felt between his legs, just once, a teasing taste, and then returned to work on his legs. His breath caught in him, and inhaled sharply.
The act of caressing the little man combined with the novelty of it was too much- she had to let him know. Without any ado she stopped tonguing him and brought her hand up to her mouth, resting it just below him and supporting his back. She opened her mouth and pulled him out, her tongue pushing him out like a parting lover’s kiss.
He lay there, enveloped in a thin layer of saliva, his legs and feet mostly getting the brunt of it. He was smiling and had his eyes closed.
He stood up, opened his cerulean eyes to her, this goddess of his.
Darcy bit her lip, her other hand still occasionally caressing herself, still wet, still revved.
“I want you. Bad. So, so bad.”
“I want you too, Darcy.” He smiled at her and cocked his head. “So what are we gonna do about that?” He teased.
She continued to bite her lip.
“Take off your clothes, please.”
He complied. As she watched him pull his shirt off, relishing every second, every movement his body made, she was stunned by how excited she found herself. She realized, she remembered, how long it’s been since something like this has happened. Obviously, never with someone so small, but the size didn’t change the fact.
There was a boy, and she, as a girl, wanted him.
His pants came next, soaking in saliva. He left his belt on, and the sweet tinkling sound of it jingling on itself drove Darcy wild. He watched her intently as he took off his clothes- his eyes seeing past her beautiful face and into, she felt, completely comfortable with it, her soul. He wore a benign, satisfied smile on his lips, a quiet confidence that comes with years of sexual competence.
Last was his underwear. It was a pair that she’d seen before- on the ground in the bathroom. She smiled, remembering the thought, and it only reinforced for her how comfortable she was with this man- it was as if they’d been a couple for years, and just now they were getting romantic…
He pulled them off slowly, knowing full well she was watching him. It slid off, down his legs, and rested as his feet. He stood there, now, in her open palm, his own hands at his sides, displaying himself for his lady.
Darcy had never seen Andrew’s genitals, not even on accident, not even walking in on him in the shower or bathroom (which happened an embarrassing amount of times over the years). Even at this size, she still felt… That pull. That primal desire.
He was a boy, and she was a girl.
She exhaled and inhaled sharply, her free fingers caressing herself and hitting a very sweet spot.
“Hello there, Andrew,” she began, unsure of what else to say.
Andre cocked an eyebrow and set his hands on his hips.
“That’s it? ‘Hello?’ That’s all you’ve got to say?”
It might have sounded rude, but Darcy knew from his smile that he was teasing her. Again, that confidence (not so quiet, she supposed now).
“Ha, well,” she shot back- two could play at this. “Did you expect me to swoon at the sight of your twig and berries?”
“Maybe. Most girls just faint.”
She rolled her eyes, moaning.
“Oh I’m sure that they do, Andrew…” She giggled. “Keeeeeep on tellin’ yourself that.”
“Every night before bed. Oh, and,” he grabbed himself by the shaft and flipped it up towards her, the head and single eye pointing at her face. “He says hello also.”
“I see! Well, I hope he’s a good conversationalist, because tonight, we’ve got lots… To, um… Discuss…. Hmm.”
Her voice trailed off for a second, her head cocking slightly. Andrew realized that she was looking at his penis, rather uncomfortably inquisitive about it.
“Waitaminute,” she breathed out.
“What is it?” He looked down to inspect himself, removing his hand. Nothing seemed to be amiss…
“No, wait, put your hand back there.” She brought her hand up next to her face and laid it flat in to the air. “Like this. Can you put to next to… Yeah, like that.”
Andrew did so, putting his outstretched hand next his shaft, still slightly engorged from the tongue lashing. Where was she going with this?
Darcy looked at his hand, and then her own. Then back again. Then at her own.
“Andrew,” she questioned softly, “we’ve worn the same gloves, uh, before… Right?”
He seemed confused, and gave her a corresponding look.
“Well, yeah, that one time… But what difference would that- oh.”
He noticed a big smile as she watched her fingers curl and lengthen out.
“I knew it!” She exclaimed finally.
Andrew nearly fell down with uproarious laughter.
Darcy bumped her bedroom door open with her bum, making a satisfying thud as it did so. It made complete sense to her, as both her hands had precious cargo in tow- Andrew gracing her right hand and the bottle of Louisiana Grey in the other. She couldn’t reasonably, she found, open the door without risking either dropping the bottle or squishing Andrew, so her rear end would have to suffice. When she did so, Andrew gave a very bro-ish ‘nice’ and thumbs up as a commentary, which made her chuckle. Her body had started to feel the effects of the double shot of bourbon earlier after dinner, and that was some time ago, so everything was not quite in that haze she usually expected, but things like ‘nice’ did become a little more funny than usual.
She had considered taking another drink when she came in, but thankfully, caution had taken precedence for her and she thought twice. She loved the way that she had felt, but she realized, with a clarity that was uncharacteristic of her while ever drinking, that she was dangerous to little people while under the influence. If she became inebriated, Andrew could be hurt by a careless or ill thought idea or action on her part.
Still, it had been about an hour since her double, and she felt confident that she was in control of her actions- she felt abuzz, but not drunk. The realization had also sobered her somewhat. For what she had in mind, she would need as much mental faculty as possible.
She walked over to her bed and set little Andrew down on the ruffled sheets. He sat down easy, spreading out his legs and laying out, moaning softly as he did so.
Darcy smiled at that. She walked over to her nightstand and plugged her phone into the charger and auxiliary cords.
“You know what I think?”
She favored him with a grin.
“What do you think?”
“I think,” he paused for a second, gathering his thoughts, “that bedsheet companies tend to make nicer and fancier sheets for girls.”
Darcy mmhmm’d and went over to kneel next to Andrew on her bed. Doing so, she felt the satin sheets under her arms, and she admitted, conceding the point to Andrew, it was pretty comfy. She supposed she had just gotten used to it over her years of sleeping in the same sheets. Although, she probably knew that the whole novelty of bring Andrew in here for… well, fun and games, definitely had something to do with her suddenly remembering how comfy they were. She mused on that- how a new outlook or event in life could make the old new again.
She wondered- maybe that had something to do with why she was receptive to Andrew now as a lover as opposed to some years ago. His size change made him more attractive somehow, or maybe she felt less vulnerable. She supposed, though, that it wasn’t very important now.
Right guy, wrong time, she concluded.
“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” She spoke out, continuing her conversation.
Andrew leaned back and shut his eyes, raspberrying his lips.
“To sell more diapers, of course. Waitshitwaitwait wrong theory.”
“Forget I said that, wrong industrial complex, uh, thing. Theory.”
Darcy cocked her eye brow and head at him curiously.
“What in the world are you…” She laughed and shook her head ruefully.
“No wait- seriously. I think they make them nicer because guys want to get into them. It’s a ploy, right? For the sextoy industry. Guys and gals in sheets together want to, like, hanky panky play, right, and who supplies them with those toys? Adam and… Whoever. Steve. Gay guys. Right? And the sheets get worn out, so they buy new ones…” A pause for dramatic effect. “And the cycle begins anew.”
He held out his arms, mightily impressed with himself. Darcy thought to clap, but she did not- she thought it might not be better to encourage him to more tonight.
“So…” He waited, “what do you think.”
Darcy looked at this little man not a few inches from her face and sighed.
“I think,” she began, rising to her feet and setting her hands on her hips, “that I was going to offer you another shot of whiskey, but now I don’t really think you need it…”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his tiny groan and lean back.
“Dude, Darcy, that is so rude. Whatever happened to my matron goddess of spirits?”
She smirked at him while walking over to the bottle of bourbon and picked up the cork.
“She doesn’t want you puking up your liver tomorrow, and she thinks your conspiracy theories will keep coming if you have any more. Besides,” she continued, pressing the cork stop hard into the glass opening, “conspiracy theories make for terrible foreplay. For me, at least.”
Andrew chuckled, even faced with the absence of future liqueur.
“Baby let me tell you about the moon landing.” He crooned, sticking a finger up at her and pursing his lips. The gesture seemed lewd and nerdy.
She let out a laugh, despite herself.
Andrew kept leaning back, bringing his hand to his face and waving dismissively.
“You like it and you know it, Darc.” He flipped over on his side and set his feet swinging into the air. “That’s what I think, anyhow. It got me this far, right?”
“That is,” she was half-loathe to say, “pretty true. But do you want to know what I think?”
Darcy leaned over to her nightstand and turned on a small globe. Red and green laser and spot lights flighted out and shone on the walls and ceiling, like lighting a candle through a colander. The globe spun. She then hit the play button on her phone- a rich and deep bass groove flowed out of the speakers, accompanied by a modulating guitar pick and punctuated by a snare at two and four.
“I think dancing makes for much better foreplay…”
Her hips began to sway slowly side to side, seductively, dangerously. She gracefully circled the bed to where Andrew was sitting near the edge, pointing her fingers in time and smiling her sweet smile at him.
Andrew softly nodded in time.
“Ah, m’boys Earth Wind and Fire.”
Darcy snickered at him, turning round and circling her rear in front of him like a pendulum. She grinned at him through the fro draping her eyes.
“Nice try, 8 Mile. It’s Oliver Cheatham.”
Andrewed mmm’d and leaned back up to sit with his legs out.
“8 Mile,” he muttered, cracking a smile notwithstanding the low tease. He sighed out loud, enjoying the view considerably. Something about the way Darcy moved was really pleasant to see and watch. It might have been the bourbon, but he couldn’t stop watching those swaying hips. The way they moved to and fro, coming towards with each swing and retreating as they fled the opposite direction.
He watched with rapt attention as she closed her eyes and started to lose herself into the groove. The syrupy tenor washed over her and her hands found their way up and down her body and through her hair. She moved her body rhythmically and she found herself dancing in ways she never had before. Swirling and writhing, swaying and swinging. He found himself enraptured by this colossus, her dark skin and shining smile.
She opened her eyes and smiled with both her mouth and eyes at the little man at her bed, so far down there but so close now to her heart. A hand went up and plucked the cat ears from her head, tossing them away onto the bed and shaking her hair out- all to the rhythm and timing of the groove.
As Darcy bumped, she leaned down and let her hair fall over Andrew like a shaggy black rain. Even the dim light, he saw her smiling widely and he in turn smiled as well- he was so happy that she was.
The song continued on, and so did the dance. Slowly, her hips and legs ever moving to the beat, Darcy began to turn her back to him and find the seam at the back of her black corset. With slow, molasses movement, she undid the clasps and unzipped the revealing brassiere, letting it fall to the floor below without a sound, the ruffle of motion lost in the music. She knew she had his attention now, so she decided to make it interesting. Her hands, stretched taut, caressed her own smooth back with a loving tenderness that made Andrew bite his lip. The skin where her finger touched became riddled with gooseflesh, the spry spring air partly responsible.
She ever so slowly turned and presented herself to him, the breath escaping her ruby lips by way of a soft and willing shudder- she felt vulnerable, and above all, excited. Her full, perky breasts, capped by erect and dark nipples, swayed rhythmically just delayed by her hips, the areola prickled with goose flesh, visible even in the moonlight. They bounced, full of life and promise.
Andrew shuddered out a breath and continued to watch her intently. He was leaning forward when he smirked- he was going to say something, she knew.
“You know, I feel bad,” he sighed. “Usually I’d have some dollar bills on hand for this.”
Darcy clicked her tongue chidingly at him, frowning and lowering her eyebrows at him.
“Oh Andrew.” She bemoaned, swirling her hips around and turning. “I’m happy to do this. Now that we’re together, I can do stuff like this for you pro-bono.”
“Well, I certainly hope you would be…”
The two shared a quiet laugh, and Darcy continued with her little strip tease. As the disco tune continued to pound on, her feet stomping and hips bumping with the beat, her hands found their ways to her panties.
Andrew’s member grew turgid with each lithe movement of her hands. He held his breath as she gazed at him with a smirk and mirthful eyes, and she wiggled her hips and pulled down the last lace cover to her sanctum sanctorum, nestled between two closed and warm thighs. A tuft of curly black hair adorned her genitalia, a soft cloak to warm herself and any visitor she let pass.
She stood back up now, panties at her pigeon-toed feet, a light blush reddening her face. She took a slight step forward and a breath parted her lips- the sudden onrush of air on her moistened labia cooling and shocking her in the most delightful of ways.
There she was, and Andrew couldn’t help but be enthralled by her. She stood there nude and enormous and naked and gigantic and above all beautiful, all her parts laid bare before God all His angels and the world.
He finally let in a breath and smiled.
“You are lovely, Darcy.”
She took another step forward, smiling coyly at him- the coyness itself merely a screen for the much wilder and animal intent skimming the surface not right below it.
“Lovely, huh?” She shook her head side to side and her hair went every which way. “I’ll bet you use that line on all the girls.”
She continued forward and leaned forward so as to be directly on top of him. Before he knew it she was closing down on him with naught but a smile on her face. He tried to kick back hurriedly away but something in her method told him that this breast drop was intentional.
He gasped softy as Darcy’s flush warm breasts fell on him and gently pressed on top of him. He was caught between the two as she leaned down, pinning him to the smooth sheets and mattress.
Darcy shifted her weight to balance slightly on one foot while the other popped into the air- just like in the movies, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind. Her hands placed themselves wide on the bed and that carried a great deal of her weight as well. Secured, she leaned her head forward and draped Andrew in a forest of black Afro vines, darkening his vision and making the only light seeping through the thick hair shine in her warm and deep brown pools of eyes.
He felt her breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
“Yeah, but,” he stammered.
“I mean it this time.”
Then, the sudden revelation shocking even him, and words pouring out,
“I’m being completely serious. I don’t think I’ve met someone quite like you, or anyone so pretty… On so many levels.”
He shot air out of his nose, amused by his thoughts. He’d never said anything like that before.
“It’s kind of wigging me out, actually.”
In. Then a long drawn out.
“I think,” she started, “I see what you mean.” She lifted her head and gazed down at him from under her nose. She cast her eyes slightly to the side, still blushing.
“It never felt so…” She searched for the right word, “natural, I guess? Natural… Getting undressed for you. Y’know? Like,” she paused, swallowing. “I’ve never done that for a guy before.
A smile cracked its way across Andrew’s lips.
“Well, lucky me. Now I don’t feel so bad, not having any ones with me…”
His giggles turned into a stifled breath as Darcy rubbed him between her breasts, stiffening his member even more. Her head came back down and kissed him, her lips engulfing his head completely in a quick peck.
“Well. Don’t worry- you’ll going to pay me back for this, since you’re just so insistent,” she teased.
She climbed over the little man then, releasing him from his pin. Andrew watched, awestruck, as her body passed over him- it was like watching a Boeing pass overhead flying low. He was, he found, absurdly delighted by the soft scent of her sex, a heady aroma, as her crawled over him. It caught in the light glistening and wet.
He twisted around and watched Darcy go to the head of her bed turning round and, sitting up, set her legs in front of him, her toes pointing upward. She presented herself to him, her breasts and womanhood, ready and oh so willing.
She looked across her bed at the little man and smirked, gripping the bedsheets in her hands, anticipating what was to come.
“Well, little guy…” she began, gripping the sheets tighter still and wiggling her toes, biting her lip and flashing her eyes at him,
“Come and get me.”