The Dancer

I love men. I love giving pleasure to men, and I love receiving pleasure too but sometimes it brings me such joy to focus only on the giving.

I am powerfully attracted to a man who I can sense is a giving person, who will treat his partner with kind respect. And the thing I love best is to see a man, especially a giving man, lose control. Not angry or crazy. Just lost in my stimulating attentions, so he forgets about any obligation to me, trusts me then forgets about me, so I am only a dream, and I can overwhelm his whole consciousness with pleasure. And once he has surrendered, when I see him so helplessly aroused and entranced... Oh! How this arouses me, so I want to give him even more, everything and more.

I prefer small parties where I might meet this special type of man. He is rare, so I always patiently wait. The man I seek has no particular look or age. If he is beautiful inside he is beautiful outside and I want to be his friend.

I am a dancer, and I love to dance for friends in my own special dancing costumes I design myself. Some are demure, some risqué. One has a dancer's leotard top, with its skirt fashioned from satin ribbons, with nothing under the ribbons. When I move, the ribbons flow freely this way and that, opening randomly around my hips and thighs.

It might surprise you to hear that I am shy by nature, and discreet. But when I meet a special nice man and I want to encourage him, I want to help him relax and let himself feel vulnerable, and so I want to dance for him in my ribbon dress. I cannot hide in this dress, and I hope if he sees that I am shy but showing myself, he will open himself too and he will let me arouse him, stimulate him, carry him into a world of pleasure.

The night before last I met a charming quiet man, at a small party of friends. He was shy but we had a nice conversation, and so after dinner when everyone was leaving, I asked him if he would spend more time with me because the night was young. He seemed surprised. His eyes shone and he said a warm Yes! We walked to my house, and I made us drinks, and then I took his hand and led him into my bedroom. I had on a cocktail dress but I wanted to wear my ribbon dress for him. I asked if he minded if I changed and he said not at all. I offered him a seat in my upholstered slipper chair, a special narrow low chair with no arms but a high back. I like this chair because when a man sits in this chair, it is very easy for a woman to sit in his lap, in different ways.

I went into my dressing room to change. I came out in my ribbon dress, and he said that it looked very pretty. I blushed. I asked if he would like me to do a dance and I hoped he would say yes because this would make me feel more comfortable, more energetic, less self-conscious. He said yes, please. So I put on my favorite music. And as always, my dancing magically overcame my shyness. I started moving, the ribbons swishing from my waist, my breasts swaying, barely constrained by the skimpy top.

His eyes were riveted on me, opened wide, and soon he looked warm. Now was the time to help him understand that nothing would be expected of him, that he was on the receiving end and that he could completely relax. I danced close to him and asked if I could sit in his lap. Oh, yes! he said. So I stepped up close, parted my legs wide enough to straddle him, the ribbons opening, and slowly I lowered myself onto his lap.

Now his eyes were on my breasts, nipples peeking over the low neckline of my silk top. I gently lifted his chin, looked into his eyes and told him that I get my pleasure from watching a man truly overcome with desire, arousal, and release, and so please leave everything to me, everything. He took a deep breath and leaned back. Since there were no armrests on the slipper chair he wasn't quite sure where to put his hands. I helped him by lifting them and placing them over my breasts, guiding them to feel my firm softness and erect nipples. I reached forward close to his face, slowly removed his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. I stood, and danced again, watching him watch me, and after a little while I asked if I could come back into his lap. He reached to me and held my hips to bring me closer, and he leaned forward, seeming to want his mouth on my breasts. "Let me..." I whispered, and pressed him back against the chair, and again straddled his lap, and he watched me slip my leotard straps off my shoulders to let the top fall around my waist, fully baring my breasts.

As he stared, I raised my arms to let my hair down. Then, leaning over him, I tickled his face with my erect nipples, and his lips opened and I guided my nipple into his mouth for him to suck, as I began rotating my hips in a figure eight pattern on his lap, back-and-forth, not too fast, not too slow, and felt his energy building. He began to moan, while he sucked and licked and nipped at my nipples. Watching him, I was becoming wet. His eyes were closed, with a look of bliss and fulfillment on his face as he sucked. I whispered, "I love your sucking, please don't stop."

I slightly shifted now in his lap without disturbing his sucking, and opened his trouser buttons to let his erection spring free. I raised myself for a brief moment and my fingers parted my blossoming lips wider before I sat down onto him, skin to skin, trapping his erection against his stomach, not bringing him inside me yet. My hips moved, smoothly flexing, to rub my swelling melting cleft with all its folds all the way up his full length, and I was getting wetter and wetter as his mouth was still busy at my breasts in his world of rapture, eyes closed. I continued sliding up and down, slowly, rhythmically. His moaning increased and he had to open his mouth from my nipple to breathe faster.

With his eyes still closed his hips began moving, so I sat up just a bit and held his shaft and gently lowered myself onto him, enclosing only the tip. His eyes opened, unfocused, and he gasped. I raised myself again so my hand could guide his head to explore around my pink clit and my lips, slicking him with my wetness, around and around my opening, as he arched up off the chair and tried to push himself up into me but I made sure I was a little bit out of reach. Again and again I lowered myself down onto him to hug only his tip, and slowly up again, and slowly down a little bit more, and up again, and slowly down, deeper into my gripping softness, as I was stretching out and taking more of him in. I didn't want to tease too much, I just wanted to make it happen slowly enough so he would be fully primed for a powerful release. He was breathing fast, his eyes still unfocused, his hips thrusting, and I knew it was time.

Now I settled, snug on his lap, all of him inside me, enveloping him with my hips, my thighs, my wet warmth. He wildly bucked, gasping, but I hooked my ankles together under the chair and my strong dancer's legs held him down, smothering his thrusts, to frustrate his desperate striving for orgasm, to further prime him as much as possible, until finally I freed him, unlocking my feet, and I began perfectly timing my counter-thrusts to match his, faster, faster, and he cried out as he came and came and came. With his last gasp I hooked my ankles again under the chair and my legs clasped him hard against me as I squirmed, unleashing my own spasms, coming again and again, carried far far away in the strong warm embrace of the beautiful universe....

I gently lay down upon him, my bare breasts soft against his chest, cradling his head. His breathing slowed, and he fell asleep.

I dozed too, for how long I don't know. A few moments after I woke up, his eyes opened.

"Did you like that?" I whispered, smiling. He gazed at me, his expression an eloquent answer. I kissed him, then sat up in his lap, still straddling him, and looked down.

"Oh, quite a charming mess!" I smiled again. "We can do something about that."

I raised myself from his lap, and kneeled, and pulled his pants down from his thighs, to his ankles, and completely off so he could sit comfortably, and unhurriedly began licking him clean, starting with his thighs. Then his scrotum, a tricky business but fun, and I was in no hurry. He watched me licking him, and soon his eyes closed as my tongue carefully worked up onto the base of his cock, lapping up our rich sauce. All around the base, and then I started upward. He sighed as I worked, and his shaft began to inflate.

"What shall I do when I get to the top?" I teased, stroking gently with my hand. I held his base and licked every which way, all the way up to the beautiful bulbous head, and now he was more than half erect.

"My, my! What now?" I smiled, still fondling him, and then kissed the head, and for a little while I stimulated him with my tongue, my lips, and soon he was fully hard again, his eyes closed. I continued pleasuring him this way, taking my time, sometimes pausing for just a brief moment as a tease while he panted and moved his pelvis not wanting me to stop, until I felt I had teased him enough.

Now my hands, lips, tongue all busily worked. He moaned as my head rose and fell over his lap, rose and fell, rose and fell, and again I happily brought him to climax. He cried out as my pumping mouth welcomed his warm rush, and I swallowed his bursting spurts with joy, so wet too in my own ecstasy.