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A bit of fiction...
A bit of fiction...
I wrote this one and posted it elsewhere on Valentines Day for a friend of mine. Hope ya like it...
Part One - The Dancer
The studio was on the street, large glass windows faced the sidewalk and people walking by could be seen every day. At night it was different, the lights inside turned the glass into a mirror. It was sort of funny, a reversal, the tinted glass was normally opaque from the outside, and at night the outside was invisible to those inside.
The owner, Marie, was out of town on business, most of her students were being lazy, going home early, or not showing up at all. There was one person doing her lesson that lazy monday afternoon.
She'd done her barre already, and was doing her exercises en milieu when the door chime interupted her grande battenment en cloche, the sudden unexpected noise almost made her lose her balance.
A man was walking past the dance floor, paying her no mind as he headed for the office area in the back. Well, she thought, he could be headed to the changing area, but he hardly looked like a dancer. Too... solid. He looked like a laborer of some sort, the sort of man how spends his days moving heavy things around, though he moved easily enough. Graceful, not the heavy stumping walk that some men used.
"Marie isn't here this week." she called out, pausing him. She took a good look at him, this stranger, once you got the rough clothes, the solidness of him, he wasn't bad looking, she thought, from twenty feet away his eyes were still peircing, boring into her with a singular intensity.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He replied evenly. "Didn't mean to interrupt you, please continue." He didn't look like he was going anywhere. She flushed a little at the idea of doing her boring old practice in front of this stranger.
"I'm about done... might as well take a break, do a little divertissement you might say. " She paused for a moment, thinking, "Uh.. could you turn on the music over there? I'm just going to do some noodling." She waved vaguely over at the stereo on the counter by hte door. She closed her eyes and waited. Really, she only had the vaguest idea what she was going to do...
She started with a pique en arabesque, stepping smoothly onto the points of her pink satin shoes, from there she brought it down into a pas de boure couru, running backwards on her toes, though she circled the room back to where she started. She was showing off... she scolded herself mentally as she skipped through some jetes en tourants, picking up the pace. She decided to ignore the stranger, dance like she did when she just wanted to have fun, and mix in some 'modern' moves. She could feel the blood really flowing now, her body warming to the dance, her mind fading as the music took hold.
She had just done a grande battenment, a high kick, when it happened... or rather, HE happened. Rather than coming back down, her ankle was caught in a vice like grip, landing softly on his shoulder. Her body started to spring back, but his other hand had caught her waist. Anger flared when she opened her eyes, but it was too late, he'd already caught her up into a pas de deux of sorts. He wasn't a dancer, no... but he could move... and he was leading her... no... stalking her. He wasn't dancing at all, he was hunting her, like some great cat ready to bring down its prey.
And like that he'd pinned her to the mirrored wall, his lips finding hers with a hunger that stole her breath away. She could feel his body pressed against her, her leg wrapped around his hip, her arms drapped on him like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning.
There were no more words, only motion, only passion. He threw her to the floor, his body pressing hers to the covered surface, grinding against her as they kissed, as his mouth sought her neck, her shoulder. Her hands tore at his shirt, feeling the thick flannel, the buttons pulling apart under her need to feel his skin.
He grabbed the collar of her bodysuit and tore it open, the stretchy material shredding under his hand, tearing to the waist, then completely apart. His mouth savaged her bared skin as she gave a wordless cry, her legs wrapped around him, holding her body off the ground. He reached behind her, peeling the sleeves down, peeling the upper half of the ruined bodysuit away from her body...
But not off, deftly, just as the shoulders of the sleeves met her wrists, where the bridge of fabric connected her hands, he twisted it, one handedly, forming a thin twisted rope and looped it around her wrists with a practiced flick. This was accompleshed so smoothly, so quickly that she had barely registered what he was doing and then she was completely bound, helpless. She opened her mouth, to protest, to question him, but he laid a callous palm over her mouth softly, silencing her.
Now he pulled away from her, leaving her to lie on her own arms as he tore the leggings off, leaving her only in the pink satin shoes and the few shreds of cloth that pinned her arms. Only then did he finish removing the heavy shirt, then lifted her lower half with rough hands on her ass until her hips were level with his face.
He devoured her, his tongue, his teeth, his lips all working to consume her whole. Her nipples were hard, aching, her clit throbbed with need, with lust. His tongue probed deep inside her, his skin rough on the inside of her thighs as he lapped at her, tugged her flesh with his mouth, suckled on her nectar. Her voice cried out, cutting through the music, making music of her own as he brought her to the peak of ecstacy again and again, her feet stroking his naked back, her legs clamping agianst his head every time the sensations overwhelmed her. His hands on her backside weren't completely idle either, pinching and squeezing her buttocks, a finger tip tickling her perineum, her anus, slipping into her slick cunt...
When he set her back down she could barely breath, her whole body shook with aftershocks. She heard the jingle of his belt, the hiss of his zipper and looked down the length of her glistening skin to see him kneeling between her outflung legs, a thick angrily throbbing cock glistening with precum.
He took his time, lay back over the top of her, kissing his way up her body, until the head of him pressed against her skin, his hands, his lips stroking every inch of her until he kissed her, biting her lower lip gently as the tip of him entered her. He was smooth, gentle, but insistant, and his thick cock threatened to tear her apart at the seams, her mouth open in a soundless scream until with a studden thump he was in, his body grinding against hers, the wiry hairs around his cock scrubbing her clit as his heavy sac tapped lightly against her body.
She wanted to grab him to tear at him, to reach down and see if she was torn apart by him, her tiny body trapped under his, the sheer masculinity of him like a whole second presence filling her. Her eyes watered from the pain as he stroked her hair and whispered nothings into her ear as he nibbled on it; until her body stretched to accomodate him, until the pain turned to the beginnings of pleasure, her wet lips accepting him fully.
He braced himself against the floor, pressing into her, her legs spread wide for him, her toes pushing her hips up to meet his as he began to truly fuck her now. Once he'd established his rythem, when her body and his began once more to dance together, he began rolling his hips, circling inside, tearing moans of pleasure from her with every stroke, pushing her inch by inch across the floor. Sweat dripped from his skin onto hers, burning like acid where it struck.
At some point she screamed, her hair wound up in his fist, her body arching so powerfully only the crown of her head and the tips of her toes touched the floor, the rest melded against his body above hers, the world washing away in a sheet of white... and then she went limp, collapsing in exhaustion underneath him, managing, barely, to wrap her heels around his muscular thighs as he continued to slowly, surely fuck her insensate.
As he began to pick up the pace, began to fuck her harder, faster, pressing on to his own orgasm, after bringing her across countless times she managaged, finally, to find her voice, whispering into his ear hoarsely, that she wasn't protected, please no...
He heard her, pulled out, panting hard. For a moment she thought he'd spill all over her, that she'd barely been in time. Instead he took her hips ankles and pressed them back up by her head, folding her in half. She felt him then, pressing against her back door, against her rosebud; open and relaxed from fatigue and lust, slick with mingled sweat and cum. For a moment she thought to tell him no, but by then it was done, just as before he was inside her in one smooth firm stroke, filling her.
Only once he was all the way in did her body rebel, only then did it hurt again, though by now she was so warmed up, so ready that in moments he was sodomizing her as firmly as he had fucked her tight cunny. As he picked up the pace he released her ankles, let her wrap her legs around his hips once more, let her fuck him back as he took her ass and made it as much his as he had the rest of her body. She could feel the slick sides of his shaft sliding against her cheeks, could feel the head of him inside her, felt it in her cunt as well through the thin, shared wall. Once more her belly tightened, her exhuasted flesh shuddering through another orgasm, the sudden tightness of her body drawing a gasp from him, a sudden rasping jerkiness to his movements, his face flushed, eyes tightening as he gripped her hips, pulling her tight against him as he surged into her. With an explosive grunt his came, flooding her body with his juice, then collapsing on top of her, panting with exhaustion of his own.
She wasn't sure, but she thought she might have passed out, or maybe drifted off to sleep, still filled, still covered with burning skin, a solid, comforting presence. Because the next thing she knew she was strangely empty, and cold, and the stranger was buttoning his shirt up as he walked to the door.
"Wait... You aren't going to leave me like this are you?" she asked, rolling over in the cool puddle of their lust to wag her bound wrists at him. He merely shot her an enigmatic smile as he stepped out the door.