Sharing Dancer

One, a friend. We've danced before many times - she and I - the lapdance variety. She knows me. I know her. At least on the level that we can in the club and online.

She is sex. She is beauty. I long for her. Lust for her. And she was there for me at the end of a very long road.

Greeting. Bonding. Embracing in a soul-satisfying clench. In front of everyone, caring about no one but her. It's been a while and we reconnect. Idle chatter on the surface. Desire much deeper. I stare at her - how can I not? - as I listen to her recount her doings. Happy that she is okay and, seemingly, happy for now. There's fun in her future and she glows as she describes it for me. Shes's refreshing as she talks openly about sexual things to me. I'm delighted for her that she has that in her life. So young. So vibrant. She is sex. And I want her. I want to please her. I want to spank her delectable round ass. I want to draw her in and hold her, to bring pleasure to her for hours, to possess her for a moment. I live vicariously through her stories of debauchery in her circle of playmates. Wishing that I was one of them.

She dances on stage for me and for another. We share her for a time. Me teaching him how to be with her. My sense of touch alive when she's with me. My visual appreciation of her body alive when she's with him.

And she's back to me. "Shall we dance?"

We must dance. We must connect. She is sex to me. I want to treat her to a dance for her. I want to share her with another beautiful dancer. And I want to experience it with her.

An idea. A double-dance.

Another. New to me. An ally of my friend in the club. She's a mystery to me. A beauty seen only at a distance. Sophisticated. Elegant. Exotic.

And my friend makes the arrangements, eager to please me. With a hope of being pleased herself.


A vision. Two beautiful women standing before me, disrobing from their elegant gowns, as our song begins. One is Sex. The other is Mystery. And we dance.

First, together focused on me. Each straddling a knee they approach me. And I'm enveloped, smothered in ample breasts. Against me, against each other. Long silky hair from both cascading around me. I love their hair. More than their breasts, their hair tells me that they are women - sexy beautiful women being intimate with me. We tease and we play as they shift positions. Cheek nuzzling. Eye contact. Body contact. Finding and exploring. Finding their hips - one with each hand. One - she's sex - firm but supple, daring me to grab hold. Another - she's mystery - possibly the softest skin I've ever felt. A whisper of flesh, melting in my fingertips. Both mine to explore, to touch, to tease, to caress.

And the focus shifts. They know each other and they find each other with me as the base. One - she's sex - the receiver. Yeilding to passion. Another - the mystery - taking control and mounting the one. Our heads together in a hot, steamy, almost-kiss that stretches out in time. My hands exploring - hips and thighs and arms and shoulders. Firm skin. Soft skin. Two distinct forms. A smile here. A moan there. Panting and embracing. Unimaginable simulated passion concentrated in space and time and set to country music. Simulated for my benefit, perhaps real for theirs.

Delicious, passionate, a connection. I live for the connection.

Disentangling.

The one - a picture of sex and satisfaction. Mussed and worked up. Breathless and pleased.

Another, a sweet exotic smile. "It was nice to meet you", I offer as we part.

Thank you, ladies. One - sex. Another - a mystery no more.