Private Dancer

#Dancing #Blowjob #Stripclub

She loved to dance. She always had. The freedom of movement. The ability to express herself through motion. It was magical. A lifetime of shuffling her feet, swinging her hips and shaking her booty any time a decent song was playing, had nurtured a talent she had been born with into a masterful ability to stir primal emotion in those watching her.

He loved to watch her. He adored the carefree, peaceful expression she held as she floated around the house, full of grace, and rhythm. As he sat on the couch in their house by the sea, reading quietly, his ears pricked up as the music in the house suddenly changed. The Salsa Romántica which he knew oh so well stirred erotic memories in his very core, his cock stirring ever so slightly. He knew what was coming.

She twirled through the door, effortlessly gliding across the floor towards him on the couch. He smiled, she was so beautiful. The love of his life. He adored everything about her. Her wonderful personality. Her deep kindness, her razor sharp wit, and after 10 years, he still worshipped her divine body. Every curve, every freckle committed to his memory. The yellow cotton sundress swirled around and floated up as she gyrated in front of him, her butt cheeks peeking out at him, confirming his suspicions that she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

She stopped twirling and made eye contact with him as she swung her hips back and forth bending her knees and lowering herself down to the floor, sliding onto her knees. He had the same look in his eyes that she had seen the first day he saw her dancing. Back when she danced in the clubs. Dark and seedy, where all the men came to watch her. The men she barely acknowledged, staring at the wall, they weren’t even human to her. Until she had spotted him.

The straining bulge in his pants caught her eye. And she crawled towards him on her knees, her prize within arms reach. Her hand touched his thigh, and he tenses. In her minds eye she is back in the club, remembering the first private dance she gave him. Her butt grinding on his lap, feeling his manhood straining against his jeans, and against her body. She broke the club rules that night. She remembered unfastening his belt and sliding his jeans down. And back in the present she does it once again. His shaft springs free, the tip pink, and moist. Glistening with liquid desire. She slicks her tongue out and tastes the drops of precum that shine on his swollen head.

Back in the club, he groans. A deep guttural moan of pleasure. His hands are in her hair. His hips are thrusting ever so slightly. The tip of his cock easing slowly deeper down her throat. This was not work for her. She was already his. His Private Dancer.

Ten years after this moment, she was still his. He had earned her devotion time and again. His kindness, his attentiveness. His unwavering determination to put her first. She stands up, and slides the spaghetti straps of her sundress off her shoulders and it falls to the floor revealing her naked body. He purrs in pleasure as he looks upon her. His sole object of desire. His purr escalates into a growl as he pulls her towards him, and she straddles his lap, whimpering as she feels his erection rubbing against her pussy. Their lips meet, and his growl continues as they kiss, tongues wrestling while she grinds desperately against his lap.

He leans down and takes one of her breasts into his mouth. Sucking on a nipple while she reaches down and guides him inside her. They both gasp as he enters, and he bites down on her nipple, making her yelp in pleasure-pain. They start to build a rhythm, rocking back and forth, as he thrusts and she bounces, losing control together as it gets faster and wilder. Her nails scratch down his back, raising deep red stripes, and he pulls her head back by her hair, leaning down to kiss and suck on her exposed neck. The urgency and desperation that they have for each other drives them towards a magnificent shared orgasm, as he explodes deep inside her, and she shakes and trembles, whimpering into the crook of his neck as she climaxes with him. They collapse onto the couch together, caressing each other, tranquillity washing over them as they lay there listening to each other’s breathing. His arms envelope her. Making her feel safe, and loved. She sinks into him, enjoying this feeling of mutual satisfaction.

She is happy, she feels safe. She will always be...his private dancer.

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©2020 by Thomas Renard Writing.