My name is Allen. My friends call me Al but my mother has always called me by my full name, Allen. My mother is Samantha and is quite attractive for being a little over 40. She is light skinned, thin, with brown hair and brown eyes. She has not been an outdoors person which is perhaps why her skin looks very youthful. I have a good relationship with my parents which is perhaps they don't mind me living at home with I go to the local junior college.
Last year my mother was watching some ballroom dance program on our local PBS station. It sparked an old argument between my mother and my father. Mom likes to dance and my father does not. She has been after him for several years to take dancing lessons but my dad is uncomfortable on the dance floor. I have seen him at weddings and he is a klutz. My mother should know better but she brings up the subject now and then. This time after my father refused, my mother asked if I would take lessons with her. If I had still been in high school I probably have said no as high school mentality would have thought dancing lessons were for homos. Since I was in junior college, I had a different outlook on life and no one at the college really knew me like my friends from high school.
I told my mother that I would go one time and see if I liked it or not. I thought there might be some interesting women at the dance classes to hook up with. Mom was sort of self conscious about taking lessons too as her friends would gossip if they knew she was taking classes. On evening Mom took me to a private dance studio on the rich side of town where we took the first lesson for free. I was to be my mother's partner, at least at the beginning. The first lesson was some simple steps and it was fun. Then the instructor came for a decision to have more lessons which was at a cost. I saw some other attractive women in the class that I would like to know and told my mother that I would like to dance some more. She never mentioned that I was her son and noticed the admiring glances from others as she danced with someone half her age. She had enjoyed the attention and the dancing, agreeing to pay for lessons.
Every Tuesday evening, we would tell my father goodbye and go to the dance studio for lessons. Actually I found the lessons to be fun and Mom was a good dance partner. Most of the other women in the class were attached to their dance partners and defeated my original purpose for taking lessons. Mom still got the admiring looks from others as we glided across the parquet floor. We were taking traditional ballroom dancing such as waltzes or foxtrots, and by the tenth lesson, we were pretty good.
The instructor asked us to participate in a local dance contest that the studio sponsored. It was no great contest but we thought it might be fun and entered. A few weekends later, Mom and I arrived at this fancy hotel ballroom surrounded by many local dance couples. Mom had me put on a tuxedo with long tails and she was dressed in a formal gown. Numbered cloths were pinned to out outfits and we waited to be called to the dance floor. It really gave us a thrill to hear our names, "Allen and Samanthaaaaaaaa" come over the loud speaker as we headed to the dance floor. We were so nervous as the music started that neither of us remembered much of what we did after the music ended. We must have done well as we got fifth place in the contest.
Mom thought that we hadn't done too badly for beginners. We agreed that we saw other couples who danced better than us but didn't place. After the ballroom dancing was over, the contest was open for latin dancing. We watched as couples competed doing the tango, the rumba, and the cha-cha. It was very fast and furious compared to the ballroom dances. While they danced, mom asked if I would like to do those dances and take a new set of lessons. I told her that it looked fun and that I would probably like it better. The next week mom signed us up for a new set of dance lessons and bought new dancing tights for ourselves.
I wasn't too comfortable wearing the dance tights at first but after the first lesson, I saw why they were necessary. The dances were very active and strenuous. The dancers at the contest made it look so easy but latin dancing is very hard work. I didn't know how my mother felt about the dancing but I was somewhat uncomfortable during the first lesson as the dancing involved much more touch than traditional ballroom dancing. The dancing involved a lot of touching between partners which is sensual and sometimes outright sexually. I didn't know if I should be touching my mother that way even if it was part of the dance. After the lesson was over and we were driving home, Mom asked if I wanted to stop for an ice cream.
"Sure" I said, "That sounds really good right now. That latin dancing is more of a workout than I thought."
"OK" my mother smiled, "I know what you mean by a workout. I am already getting sore muscles and this is only the first lesson. I think that Ice Cream Ice Cream has opened for the season. Want to see if they are open?"
"Sure, that's my fav place" I said, "Best ice cream in town."
Mom exited the interstate beltway headed for our favorite ice cream stand. I could see within a few blocks that their neon sign was on and they were open for business. "We are in luck, they are open!" said my mother. We parked and stood in line to place our order. It was always crowded and after 20 minutes we finally placed our order which was ready in seconds. We found an empty table to sit at and began to sample the first good ice cream of the year.
"Man, I miss this stuff over the winter. How is yours?" I asked.
"Ummm really good!" smiled Samantha as she returned to licking her tongue over the ball of ice cream sitting on a vanilla flavored waffle cone.
"I wish this place was open year round." I stated between bites of my concrete. "Normally, I'm not hungry after the dance lessons but this tastes so good after that workout." I glanced at my mother who was licking her ice cream and a thought came to me that I hadn't thought before. I wondered how Dad likes that tongue action? Then I thought, don't be thinking about mom like that.
"So how do you like the latin dancing?" asked my mother.
"It was a lot more fun than waltzing" I said as mom snaked her tongue into the cone and retrieved the last of her ice cream into her mouth."
Samantha smiled and said, "This stuff is so good. Yeah, I really liked it better too. There is more movement. I guess the dancing isn't so stiff. Kind of like how I danced when I was younger."
"I bet you were a good dancer back then." I said.
"I did OK" my mother grinned, "High school dances were so much fun. Latin dancing like we danced to back then but with more closeness and touching."
"Are you OK with that?" I mumbled.
"Well sure!" said my mother in surprise, "Aren't you?"
"I feel kind of funny" I said looking into the cup of concrete, "There is a lot of touching legs and stuff. It's not like I don't like touching a girl's legs but touching you is.....well not the same."
