The strangest things that you can think up never match up to real life. I was out at a favorite bar sitting with the manager who was a friend and customer of mine and having a couple of drinks. It was a Thursday and not much was going on.

Now I'm not a big country music listener, which is what they played here, but I love to two step and waltz. So far this evening I had asked a couple of women to dance and had been refused. I think this was probably because I had come straight from work and was wearing suit pants and my dress shirt with an open collar. Not very "cowboy" like... not that anyone ever accused me of being one in the first place.

After a bit I was introduced to a newcomer at our table named Linda. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, mentioned our jobs and such and then proceeded to join in the conversation going on with the others at the table. Linda was about 36 with auburn hair, and about 36C+ tits. Her jeans were tight enough to be sprayed on. She was not ingenue pretty, but I kept on looking again and again.

I got up and asked another woman to dance at another table and was turned down again. Now I'm no Redford, but I'm not terribly hard to look at. I'm big, 6' 4" and weigh about 235. I'm 32 and in reasonably good shape. I just don't look cowboy and none of the ladies seemed to be interested in dancing with someone who so obviously wasn't "country".

I came back to the table shrugging my shoulders and saying I just should break down and buy some boots and a cowboy hat as it appeared that this was the only way that I could get a dance. A couple of the folks at the table laughed, including Linda. She asked me if I knew how to dance and I said that a wonderful lady 10 years my senior had taught me how. She was so good that she followed all of my mistakes and gave me the confidence that I needed to not step on her feet more than once a night. Well the song "Tight Fitten' Jeans" had just started and Linda said, "Let's go do it." I grabbed her hand and we headed for the floor.

Now this dance floor was like that in so many small clubs in town, about the size of a postage stamp. Fortunately, though, since it wasn't very busy we had it to ourselves. In about 5 steps I had my right leg between hers and we were flying around the floor. She was a great dancer!! She felt good too. I used my thigh to lead her when I was going forward and my hand placed just above the curve of her beautifully shaped butt to "pull" her when I was going backward. We spun well and we both were enjoying it. When the song ended we were both a little flushed and a touch winded. The next tune was a beautiful slow waltz so we waltzed 'til it ended. This was very close and I just got hotter and hotter. My cock was at half mast, held in check only by my Jockeys. The lump was pressed warmly against her belly and I'm sure she had taken notice. Those tits were pressed against me and I can guarantee you that I noticed! They felt just great. When the song ended, I was feeling the need for some cooling off, so I suggested we return to the table and our drinks.

I bought her another Pinsch and water and I renewed my Jack and water. We talked about absolutely nothing and I held her hand under the table. That put my hand in contact with her thigh, right above her left knee. I idly and gently stroked the inside of the thigh through the jeans with one finger, occasionally trailing the finger higher on the thigh. She sorta stopped this by gently placing her hand on top of mine. At one point she said "Not on the first night and definitely not here!" Now that was as logical as anything you ever heard, but you know what happens when you start thinking with the little head instead of the big one.