The whooping and cat-calls began immediately, and I wanted to laugh with them, but I struggled to maintain my gameface, even as I brazenly paraded and...parodied that art form most ridiculous to my heart, "dirty dancing."I writhed and thrusted my pelvis, shimmied my shoulders, and felt up every plane and orifice of my body over and over, even running out of ideas and moves as the "Macho Man" extended mix stretched on, and yet my drunken audience tirelessly cried out in their enthusiasm. Now. She did. I was getting a hard on. I let my left arm rest on her leg, she was wearing shorts. I reached down grabbing her ankle and moved her leg away from the pipe telling her to be careful. She was nervous, I could tell as she leaned up into me and talked and talked and talked -- nervous chatter. I relaxed and leaned back into her tits, I knew her nipples where hard against my back and I was hoping she was getting wet. I stopped for a minute at a stop sign and before she could say. More

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