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“Bev at work is doing it, says its great fun. Why don’t we give it a go, Paul?” My girlfriend Lindsay was suggesting it.
“Won’t it be all women, and men dragged along?”
“No, she says she goes on her own, but most are couples who really enjoy it.”
And that was ten weeks ago. And I had gone along, because you do when your fairly new girlfriend suggests it. And Bev was there, and we nodded and smiled, although never chatted — too busy doing it. It seemed that while Bev and Lindsay worked in the same department they wouldn’t be described as friends — they worked together amicably. There was a dozen other couples as well. It seemed to work — the couples did it with each other, Bev seemed to do it with the instructors assistant.
And I surprised myself — I loved it! Never thought ballroom dancing would be any fun, but it was great! Quickstep, waltz, jive, cha cha cha — I loved them all. I wasn’t very good, but I grew more and more enthusiastic. More enthusiastic than Lindsay who had suggested it.
Which is why I was ticked off when I got the message. From a friend, first, then from Lindsay herself. She was seeing a soccer player, and I was history.
Truth was, I was a bit sad to end it. She had been sexy, and we’d had fun together, but it was never going to be more than that. What ticked me off was that I no longer had a ballroom dancing partner! I loved the ballroom dancing. Seemed like the end of the New Yorkers, Right turns, side close side…
Thursday evening I went around to the class just to tell the instructors I’d have to stop. No partner. The instructor was a great guy, and great instructor. “Why don’t you dance with Beverley? She doesn’t have a partner. Give it a go?”
“But I don’t really know her — she knew my girlfriend better…”
“Come on, call me Bev, lets have a go. You’re Paul, aren’t you?” I hadn’t been aware she had come in soon after me, but she had overheard what Tony our instructor said.
“Don’t know, I’ve never done it with anyone else…”
Beverley (“you can call me Bev”) smiled. “Worth a try. You seem pretty good at it.”
I shrugged. Followed Bev over to some chairs.
Bev was in her early thirties. Lindsay had mentioned she was divorced, or had been with a guy for some years and the relationship had gone wrong. She was mid thirties, whereas I was 26 — much younger. She clearly did a lot of exercise — her body was well toned. He ass was round — I noticed as I followed her across the room. She was attractive, with short blonde hair — but she wasn’t what you might call feminine — she was a strong lady both physically and mentally. The fact she stood a couple of inches taller than me, and I’m five eight, suggested we might have to adjust our dancing style a bit. Perhaps the dancing touched the 10% feminine side of her personality…
As we moved to the floor to start our lesson she said “Hope you’re going to lead me properly — it’s the only place I let men lead me! On the dance floor!”
“I’ll do my best…” and the lesson started.
I did do my best. We were okay together, after some initial struggling. Quickstep went well. She mainly had bahis firmaları to go backwards, and I guided her as best I could. Same with the Waltz. The Jive we did okay after we got our size of step co-ordinated. Truth was we began to smile at each other, and enjoy dancing together. And it’s always nice being close to a hot woman.
The room where we had our lesson was warm, really warm. And dancing is energetic. And by three quarters of the way through the lesson we were sweating, sweating hard, the sweat running down our faces, in our hair, almost soaking our tops — the sweat made Bev’s white t-shirt stick to her body, and her grey jogging bottoms were getting wet with sweat too.
We had a pause between the Jive and cha cha — everyone was drinking water. Bev blew out breath, then said “I’m sweating like a pig.”
Why do I let my mouth speak? What a drab line I had! “Women glow, men perspire, only pigs sweat!”
Bev wrinkled her face. “Then I’m glowing like a pig.”
It was then my mouth moved again before my brain. “Well, I could lick all the sweat off your body!”
Bev gave me a strange long look, but then we were called on to the floor for the final part of our lesson. Time for some cha cha cha…
We spent about fifteen minutes working on some bits of the cha cha then danced it to some music. Then the hour was done.
As we got ready to go home, I said thank you to Bev, and said I hope we could carry on next week coming to the lesson.
“I thought you were going to lick every drop of sweat from my body?”
I went red, started stammering. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I shouldn’t have said it, just a joke…”
“When men suggest things I make sure they see them through! I live around the corner. You said you wanted to do it. You’ll come and do it.”
Ten minutes later we had walked to her flat, and she let me in. she showed me into her sitting room, then went and got us a couple of cold drinks. “My bedroom’s over there. Come over in a couple of minutes. Let me get ready for you. You’re going to do it.”
My heart was thumping suddenly. It was bad enough making a crass comment, but felt a hundred times worse facing the reality. I nervously sipped my drink, then knew I didn’t have any real choice. I crossed the hall and pushed the bedroom door open.
Bev was lying face down on the bed, the bed covered with just the sheet — her duvet was in a heap in the corner. She was wearing a pair of running shorts and top. “Okay, start with my feet.”
I noticed there was no please or thankyou, but she had a voice to be obeyed.
I tentatively sat on the edge of the bed and held her foot. I tentatively licked the bottom. She tasted quite salty. I licked around the top, between her toes, to her ankle, before taking her other foot and doing the same. She was damp with sweat, and tasted salty, but not too salty. She seemed to be enjoying it, so I began to lick along her leg up to her knee, and back down, then all around it. I changed back to the original foot and began to lick that leg. I went a bit higher, to the middle of her thigh — she didn’t seem to mind, and looked like she was relaxing. kaçak iddaa I licked the thigh of her other leg, but suddenly she moved, rolling onto her back, and sitting a bit further up the bed.
“My arms now, ” she ordered, then held out her hand towards me.
I ran my tongue around her fingers, then along the arm, again tasting her sweatiness. She even held up her arm for me to lick her armpit. I repeated it with her other arm, licking her all over.
“Now you can do everything which is not covered by clothes.” I began to lick her neck, then down to the top of her running top. She leant forward, so I licked her neck and back. After a while I noticed there was a gap between her top and shorts, so began to lick her stomach, and around her back. Without asking I began to lick her thighs again, and thought she wanted that as she let her legs fall apart, letting me lick the inside of her thighs.
It was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever done. And she was purring and relaxing, and enjoying it. Just to lick a girl all over — or even a five feet ten inch amazon, was so erotic. My shorts were straining at the front, but I managed to prevent my cock touching her, even through my shorts.
At last I pulled away, unsure, having licked every inch — I think — of bare flesh.
“My, you are a good boy. But there’s one bit you’ve missed.” Bev said it as if talking to a child.
I suddenly wanted her to be happy. “I’m really sorry. Please let me do it, properly.”
“You’ve missed the bit between the cheeks of my ass.”
I paused, unsure now of myself — this was a sudden change in tone.
“Take my shorts off and do the bit between the cheeks of my ass. And do it well. I’ll tell you when it’s done.”
Tentatively I reached for Bev’s shorts, and she raised her body as I lowered them down her legs. She was so hot. I love girls with a nice neatly trimmed bush, and she had one. However, as soon as I had removed the shorts she rolled onto her stomach again. “Go on, do it!”
Bev’s voice sounded more commanding. I leant over. I began to lick her ass, all over, then ran my tongue along the crack of her ass. She seemed to like that, so I held the cheeks of her ass slightly apart, and began to lick from her waist downwards, until I heard her moan as my tongue licked her asshole, swirling around gently. I moved a bit further down, then back again, and for the next few minutes licked along the crack of her ass, particularly focusing on her asshole. I could also tell she was aroused — I could smell “pussy” when my nose was near, and could see the lips of her pussy glistening as she moved her legs wider apart.
Suddenly she moved again, turning over again. “Now Paul. You’ve made another part of me very wet. Perhaps you should lick that next.”
She spread her legs wide, and in seconds I was running my tongue along her delicious pussy, licking the lips, and probing between then, tasting her delicious pussy. Seconds later my tongue was running all over her clit, as she moaned, her hands entwined in my hair, holding on to stop me escaping, not that I wanted to move away.
Bev certainly writhed and moaned as my kaçak bahis tongue worked her clit, but she stopped me escaping. Suddenly she cried out, her body was shaking, I was being thrown about, my faced soaked by her juices. I don’t think I’ve experienced a woman’s body reacting as strongly and forcefully as hers, but at last her orgasm petered out and she relaxed on the bed, her hands still holding my hair, but pulling my head away.
For a few minutes I lay on the bed beside Bev who still had her hand in my hair. I had a raging hard-on, in my shorts but tried to hide it best I could, but I think Bev knew…
“Stand there!” she ordered, pointing to the side of the bed. “Face me!” I did, moving quickly beside the bed. Bev reached her hand and gripped my balls, resting the heal of her hand against my cock. It seemed to be resting against the sensitive part under the head. My cock throbbed with excitement.
Bev looked disinterested, but I felt her squeezing my balls through my shorts, the heal of her hand pressing then relaxing against my cock. It felt amazing. She was so good at it. She kept doing it, almost disinterestedly, and it felt better and better…
“Moan. Beg for it!” Bev was not to be disobeyed — I suddenly realised she was not to be disobeyed. I wanted to obey.
Within seconds I was moaning, out of control. “Mmmmmmmmmmm, please, please, ow…” I felt her squeeze my balls a little harder… “Please, yes, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”
I was shooting my cum into my shorts, moaning, seemingly endlessly. I don’t know how I managed to stay standing — my legs trembled as I filled my briefs and shorts with cum.
At last my cock stopped pumping and began to shrink, leaving my clothes wet, with wet stains appearing through the cloth.
“Come and sit in the sitting room, while I make some coffee!”
“Please can I clean…”
“No!” Bev snapped at me. “Naughty boys who stain their clothes have to live with it.”
It seemed odd sitting in the sitting room, chatting, while my cum was oozing out of my shorts, staining the front. The smell of cum certainly filled my nostrils, and I’m sure Bev could smell it. I tuned in to what she was saying. “…so Lindsay told me why you broken up. You were just too nice. Too gentle. She reckoned you’re pretty well equipped and I think she was right. But she wanted a tough guy to take her, not a nice guy to serve her. Told me that maybe I could use you. That’s why I danced with you. I was going to bring you home tonight anyway, but you sort of walked into it!” Bev smiled as I remembered saying I wanted to lick all the sweat off her body.
“So, this is the deal if you want it. There’s a group of women I’m part of at the gym. They are tough. They want a nice guy to serve them occasionally. Help them sometimes. Won’t hurt you, at least not much, but you’ll probably get used somehow most weeks, maybe more than that. You’re going to be that nice guy.”
It was strange walking back to the hall where we had been dancing, where I had left my car. My shorts were still wet, and my cock felt sticky inside my cum soaked briefs. One guy noticed my damp stains and laughed. I pondered on the offer — to be “the serving guy” to some group of amazon women. Bev had talked more about it and it sounded fun, and frightening, and scary — I couldn’t wait for the first text, and what might be in store…
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