Even before I divorced my husband of 15 years, Friday night had been my fun night. My Friday salsa had been one of the triggers that had allowed me to realise that my relationship with him had become boring and completely without excitement. The infrequent, vanilla sex had always been there, but when my femininity was unleashed through dance, there was no going back. I wanted so much more.
The first night there had been a complete revelation. I'd tried salsa before, so knew what to expect, but when we tried Bachata and Kizomba, I felt a sensuality I'd not felt before. My god, this stuff was simulated sex! Because I'd always been a free spirit, I really let myself go into the movement and soon, the guys were queuing up to dance with me! When I got home that first night, my knickers were soaked. I was still with my hubby at that point and needed some relief when I got home. I slipped into bed and even though he was fast asleep when I moved close to him, I made sure he knew what was on my mind. I sucked his flaccid cock until hard, then climbed onboard to get some relief. I made good use of my new hip moves from dance and worked his cock deep into my body. He knows I've always needed some dominance in the bedroom and tonight I was feeling free and wild. I leant forward and whispered to him,
'Fuck me like you hate me...'
I climbed off and pushing my face into my pillow, lifted my ass in the air.
The problem is, he's just too nice. He's definitely tried to access his more masculine side in the past, and I thought, as we're going through some marital difficulties, he may take it as an opportunity to be more aggressive. As he knelt behind me, I said,
'Go on, fuck me up the ass...I know you want to.'
I felt a shocked pause as he processed that and then started to stab around in the dark. My pussy was sopping at this stage, so that was the easier entry for him and he slid in deep. Maybe he's lube-ing himself up first, I thought. He pulled out and slid his end up to the entrance of my tight ring. I pushed back to encourage him, but he was either reluctant, or having difficulty getting in as he tried to open up my tight hole. His slippery cock naturally slid down, and he pushed into my pussy once again. He gave a couple of deep thrusts, but then, moaned and pulled out, his cum jerking onto my back and dribbling down the crack of my ass. For fucks sake, I groaned inwardly and tried not to make my disappointment too obvious. After wiping his end on the inside of my thigh, he rolled over and crashed into the mattress. It didn't take long to hear the rhythm of his breathing indicate his sleep. As I'd done for the last 15 years, I reached down between my legs and imagined some bull of a man flipping me over and fucking me deep and hard. I swallowed down a shuddering orgasm so as not to wake the snoring heap next to me.
That had been the pattern of my Friday nights, but now, I'd got rid of the selfish bastard, but kept the excitement of my dance classes. It was a definite highlight of the week and I loved the anticipation of getting ready but also the unknown factor of who would turn up to the class. Many of the girls would come in jeans and trainers, but I always wanted to look and feel as feminine as possible. That was all part of the excitement and enjoyment for me. I've always known what men like and the attention it brings adds to my own natural feminine style. I've always been tall at 5'8'' with long legs and a tight ass, and now, even in my 40's I still have a figure I love to show off.
For salsa I'd always wear a flowy skirt and thin blouse or a cute dress. I also always wear nylons as it makes me feel ultra feminine and heels are pretty much compulsory for dancing something as sensual as Latin. Dressing like this makes me feel so in touch with myself and I must admit I love the attention it gets me. The loose skirt allows easy access for the many thick masculine legs that are pushed between my thighs during Kizomba and as I'm tall, tends to put some delicious pressure on my clit as I'm pulled around. Often during the summer months they use a fan in the sweltering dance hall and the men will deliberately spin me in its direction to blow my skirt up Marilyn-style. As I often wear holdups or stockings and suspenders, this proves to be a popular move. I feign ignorance, but actually love the reaction it creates.
This particular Friday, I dropped the kids with my ex and then rushed home to get myself ready. I always put my salsa mix on in the background and it provides a clear demarcation between my working week and my fun Friday night. As I dress, I can feel my excitement build as I relax and start to move to the intoxicating music. I put on a flowing flower-print skirt that is just above the knee and a white blouse that in the right light shows my lace bra underneath. I pulled on a pair of nude sheer holdups and secured them high on my thighs as I was half expecting the tops to be on show as I'm spun around. My strappy high heels are perfect for dance with a 2" heel and a soft sole for free spinning. I leave my hair down and make sure my lips are red to match my nails.
The format of the evening is a dance class followed by a 'social', or free dance session, where anyone dances with a partner and perfects the moves they've learnt in the lesson. Tonight, as the social started, an influx of new people came to join the free dance session. There were about six men, who looked a little rougher than the normal crowd that came into the suburban church hall. At this stage in the evening, the lights are down and the music loud. They mingled amongst the crowd, some standing at the bar assessing the dance floor. I was about to sit the next dance out when someone stepped out of the darkness and held his hand out.
'Dance?' he asked.
'Sure.' I said, taking his outstretched hand.
He dragged me assertively into the middle of the dance floor and pulled me in tight. He was slim, but muscular and had tattoos along his arms and up his neck. He looked at me directly and his eyes were blue and piercing, with a hint of wildness about them. His face was close to mine and I could smell alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath. We felt for the beat and started to move. Salsa requires a strong lead, and he knew how to dance. He moved well and I could feel the confidence through his hands and movement. As he spun me around his hands guided my body closely. His hand position meant that as I moved around his open palm would move over my hips and around my waist. As I relaxed into his style of dance, my hips moved more freely and so did his hands. They moved down from my hips and when I turned, they ran over the cheeks of my ass, and on a couple of occasions across the front of my breasts. I wasn't sure if this was entirely deliberate and was slightly embarrassed as I could feel that my nipples had hardened at the attention. I wondered if he'd felt. When he pulled me in for the final beat, he held me in place for a second. I started to pull away, but he held me tight.
'Nice...' he said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
'Thank you.' I said politely and extracted myself.
For the next few dances I was aware that he was watching me and when a few men swung me past the fan, I felt a thrill of danger as my skirt blew up.
The next song was a Kizomba and before I could make it to my seat, I felt a hand slip around my waist.
'May I?' said the tattooed man.
'You dance Kizomba?' I asked.
'My favourite.' He said with a smile.
Kizomba is a sensual dance where both sets of hips move together and the man controls the movement of the female by keeping his leg firmly between her thighs.
'I sense you need a strong lead.' He said, pulling me in close enough for my breasts to crush against his chest. He then pushed his thigh between my legs. I opened my legs to accommodate him and as he made eye contact he ground his muscular thigh into my mound. As we moved, he made sure that he didn't lose contact and I could feel the pressure against my clit start to create a seeping arousal. He must have sensed some energy change in me as he smiled and looked direct, those sharp blue eyes searching me. I flushed with some embarrassment, wondering if he somehow knew what was happening in my knickers. As our hips ground together, I became aware of something digging into the top of my thigh. It was very clearly his erect cock and he made a point of grinding it into the top of my hip as he turned and swayed. I focussed on the dance, but with the music, the pressure and his dominating presence, I could feel my body starting to respond. My pussy started to engorge and leak.
'Nice.' He said with a confident smirk. I wasn't sure if he was referring to my dance, or to the affect on my body. Whenever I'm in the presence of a dominant energy, I feel my submissive side naturally bubbling to the surface and I find I clam up verbally.
I ignored him, but his energy shifted and he became more aggressive. He tightened his grip on my hands and pulled me in even closer, his nose now nuzzled in my hair. He sniffed, taking in the scent of my recently washed hair and his mouth was now close to my ear.
'I can sense what you need...' he growled, low and strong in my ear. 'Even if you don't admit it to yourself.'
He stopped any pretence of just dancing and ground his hard cock into my thigh, at the same time sliding his own leg up and down my moistening slit. I tried to pull away and put a little distance between us, but my resistance was met with greater and opposite force. His energy was now dominant and insistent. Like drawing the attention of some deadly predator in it's own environment, I felt suddenly out of my depth and my whole physiology changed. I felt a real fear in the pit of my stomach, but I couldn't help the sexual reaction in my body as the sense of danger grew. There was something primal and raw about his intent; he focussed entirely on me and didn't seem to care what anyone around him thought. I could smell the musky odour from his body, the alcohol and the tobacco on his breath.
My breath quickened and I could feel a sense of panic rising and he could feel my discomfort peaking.
He licked my ear and said, 'You're not denying it, are you?'
As the song ended, I pulled away and turned to find his friends all spectating. He stepped into me from behind and slapped my ass hard with the palm of his hand, then flipped the hem of my skirt at the back, revealing my holdups and knickers.
They all squealed with laughter and applauded their friend's bravado. He smiled and bowed theatrically as I disappeared to the bathroom, stinging with humiliation.
I pulled the cubicle door closed and sat to catch my breath. My heart was beating like crazy and my chest was heaving. I'd felt a real sense of danger in his presence and my body was working to come down. When I lifted my skirt and pulled my knickers down, a long thread of juice connected them with my pussy which dripped and glistened in the light.
'Fuck.' I said under my breath.
When I left the bathroom, he and his friends were nowhere to be seen. I felt a huge sense of relief and slipped my jacket on to leave. It was midnight when I stepped out of the hall into a mild night. I said my goodbyes to the rest of the dancers and headed home, which was only a short walk away. I used the walk to breath deep and calm down. It had been a confusing mix of fear and sexual arousal. Once I was safe at home, I thought, I'd get my vibrator out and bring myself off, god knows I was already prepared.
I closed my front door behind me with some relief and leant against the wall as I slipped off my heels. I padded through to the kitchen in my stockinged feet and slipping my jacket onto the back of the bar stool, flicked the kettle on. I looked onto the garden through the blackened windows and noticed that the window was slightly open.
