Women Dancing

Have you ever watched two women dance? No? You should. And maybe it only happens when its two women who are going to be spending time together later, or want to spend time together later. Its like they can fuck each other with their hands and their eyes without ever doing anything other then move. Move and touch.

It doesn’t come out of nowhere. There’s always the laughing and touching and leaning close and whispering beforehand around the table with drinks. Women friends are always like that, but it’s amplified when the women will be lovers – then the actions and inclinations that seem so natural become electric. Hands that touch slide off each other more slowly, a face buried in hair to whisper something lingers, a quick hug includes a slightly less quick hand sliding down a half uncovered breast. Then the music starts…

And it could be anything, as long as there’s a rhythm and a beat, though they can be disguised. The first notes of a good song or a good feeling and one woman takes the hand of the other and they stand like women do, sliding upward allowing the fabric of their dress to reveal the sculpture of their body for the partner to see. The hand holding that had started and never stopped facilitates a quick lead to the dance floor. They face each other. Eyes meet and smile. The disconnected hand finds a comfortable place around a waist or lower back. Maybe touching skin. Hips roll into each other.

It takes only a moment for women dancing to trade a found rhythm for a lost world. Music becomes liquid flowing across fabric intertwining and skin brushing skin as hands gently explore each others curves and curves gently connect and flow back with the liquid music. Hips and thighs moving together, breasts held taunt and exposed become highways for fingertips moving from back to shoulder, or lips sliding down necks. Telling secrets.

Their eyes stay locked until the pressure gets to be too great and one needs to disconnect for a moment; the eyes that help force the rest of the world out and provide ballast for the moments and energy. One will break eye contact as she slides down the body of the other; breathing on her lips, neck, breasts, stomach and back again to start anew, closer, foreheads touching, holding tighter, hands allowed to move more freely.

Women are victims to their own potency. Although their hands and mouths can explore the limits of their clothes and bodies can be brought to orgasm through fabric and pressure and rhythm and time, the elixir of the dancing only contributes clarity to their longing to be together in the dark cool of a bed, removing clothes, exploring more completely, naked and loving, feeling and fucking… Dancing is foreplay.

A___ and L____ moved to the dance floor. We had been sitting, drinking and talking for a while. The two of them had been whispering and touching, and then the notes of a classical guitar filled the room. It had started as a spanish instrumental but I knew that the music would be changing soon to a more flamenco style. A___ would be melted, liquid sex. That’s why I wanted to come here tonight. The guitar.

“Ready to dance?” L___ asked….

… I watched them walk to the floor together, hand in hand, arm in arm, whispering and laughing and kissing, hips swinging and asses moving seductively to the first few notes even before they began.

A___ stopped on the side of the floor nearest our table to afford me the best view. Turn. There was a pause in the music.

I watched L___ slide her hands down from A___’s hair and push her so that A___ kissed her breasts then rested her head, looking at me and smiling. L___’s hands slid down further, one stopping mid shoulder, the other down A___’s thigh, under the hem of her dress, pulling her closer and lifting her leg a little. The music started again.

I love watching A___ make love to other women. I love the way her body moves. I love to watch the passion build in her and become motive power for her hands and lips, drawn out of her and erupt in waves. I love the way women’s bodies look together as they coil into their own world of whispers and touches. Watching A___ and L___ dance was the start of this: We had been talking and planning and waiting and now here they were and all that pent up desire was starting to seep out. I knew that later they would be together in a mammoth bed, crowds and clothes left behind in the darkness, and all that would be left would be the release of passion built for weeks, being stoked on the dance floor, ready to erupt.

I was hard to bursting just watching. My erect cock pushing into my jeans as a pleasurable, painful reminder that later on I would be walking these women back to a hotel room and having my way. I sat and sipped my whiskey and smiled, watching the dance, feeling the pressure of my passion building. That knowledge of secret pleasures waiting in the hours ahead changes a man’s smile…

People in the bar noticed me. Not as much as they noticed A___ and L___ dancing. But those that watched as the two women left the table to dance stared back at me during the breaks. I couldn’t read their expressions, but I understood them. They knew what we three were doing. Many of them with their wives or girlfriends, friends or dates, passed secret looks at A___ and L___ and then at me and wondered, jealous.

There were some who were more bold – out on the dance floor circling A___ and L___. Leaning in and whispering, lining up behind and grinding in, wanting to participate, but not knowing how to make it happen. These are the type of men who see the dance of women as an end and want to get off then. The type of men who play their whole hand in hopes that they will be allowed in. A___ and L___ handled them easily, flirtatiously, mischievously. At one point I was pointed out to a particularly aggressive suitor. He said something to A__ and L___ and turned to look at me. As he turned back to commence grinding they had moved off, roped in by some other hopefuls. He wandered past and said something like “You’re a lucky bastard”.

“I’ll assume you meant that kindly?” He moved away.

They danced for a while. I watched. Their bodies were radiating heat from the dancing. Their eyes radiated lust. When they returned to the table they were no longer strangers in any way that mattered. As they approached they separated for the first time in what seemed like hours so that L___ was to my left and A___ to my right. I may as well have been on drugs – the sexuality that emanated from them was almost enough to knock me out. A__’s lips immediately found mine and L___’s hand moved to my lap while her other found A___’s.

It felt like a comet of fire had ran into me, into us, wrapping our table. I was surrounded by hands and lips and hair and whispers from A___ and L__. I forgot we were at a table at all until my free hand was nudged by something and I disengaged long enough to see the waiter standing there with the check. A___ and L___ continued kissing behind me and I had to remove L___ and A___’s hands from my lap to keep from cuming. I paid the waiter and said “Thank you”.

“No, thank you. And thank you ladies… it was an electric night.” He winked and walk away. But his voice had cooled the comet momentarily. A___ and L__ took sips from their drinks and looked around.

“I think we should be off.” “Yeah”. “Great idea”.

6 Responses to “Women Dancing”

  1. That was simply divine. Wish I were much closer to home instead of out in public. Time for that when I do arrive home. Thank you for a highly arousing read, S____.

    So, I will soon finish up my piece for your reading pleasure.

  2. Sorry about the delay.
    We can’t wait.

  3. Oh to see two women together – doing just about anything…

  4. to smell the magnolias in her hair
    as she slides her hip next to mine
    and moves her hand up my back…
    i could dance with her forever.

    thank you for a splendid read.
    beautiful, sensual, thrilling and true.
    i look forward to reading more.


  5. […] Catalina loves Turning 36Christmas Tree HNTFingersForeplayI Speak Roughly, Part 2: RBUIt’sThe Kiss: All Through The Night.The Limitations of TerminologyPatience RewardedThe Shower – Part OneTrying on Shoes (a fantasy)Women Dancing […]

  6. Anonymous Says:

    no one knows what real slow dancing is any more

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