totse.com | The Dance Studio

All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.

The piano music coming from the tape player in the corner drowned his entrance. He watched her move slowly across the floor, playing to the image in the mirrors covering the wall. The mirror were her audience, the only audience she knew she was entertaining. Her slender figure gracefully twirled around the room in time with the piano, and his heart followed suit. Forget the disagreements, the separations, the divisions between them. This was the reason he stayed with her. Never had he seen a sight more beautiful than her dancing.

Slowly she fell to her knees and bowed forward as the music ended. He finally broke his silence, clapping and cheering in the shadows of the dance studio. She jumped to her feet, realizing she had been oblivious to her real audience.

"No need to be scared," said the low, pulsating voice in the shadows. "You were absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," she answered, blushing and grinning sheepishly. He emerged from the darkness and stepped slowly to her.

He pulled the Luther Vandross tape from his pocket, put it in the tape player and started the music. They came together in the middle of the studio, first with their hands, then with their lips, finally with their bodies. He brushed his hands along the back of her body, remembering the curves he used to dream upon with reverence before they met. Her arms wrapped around his waist as he pulled the strings of her leotard away from her body. Slowly he peeled off the wet garment until it lay in a sweaty pile at her feet.

He turned her around until they both faced the row of mirrors on the wall. He stood behind her, his hands on her hips, as she admired the image in front of her. She turned to let him glance at her profile on the wall and lifted her leg above her head. Ashe balanced her on his arm, he took hold of her leg and began nibbling down her calf. At the same time, his other hand drifted between her legs and moved in time with the music. She leaned back and moaned in pleasure, slowly moving with his hand.

Upon lowering her leg, she turned and faced him again. He fell to his knees and reached up for her breasts with his tongue. The warmth of his touch caused her to lean forward into him. She ran his fingers through her hair, hoping she could remain standing in his grasp. He turned her around until she faced the mirror on the wall againand ran his hands firmly down her body. She retained her balance and watched the man in the mirror lie on his back and slide head first between the gap in her stance. As he stopped sliding, he balanced himself on his hands and placed his head between her legs, gliding his tongue smoothly across her clit.

Her jaw dropped and her breathing quickened as he entered her. Overcome by the picture in front of her, she pushed his head deeper into her and fell to her knees, his arms collapsing from the force. She gyrated her hips on his head, forcing him furtherinto her. As she finally climaxed, she lifted her head to watch her actions in the mirror. She watched longingly as he drank from her, as if she was watching two strangers make love in front of her, as if she wanted to achieve the same bond they had achieved, the same togetherness, the same emotions.

She never took her eyes off the mirror as she crawled backwards and unbuttoned his shirt, allowing him to catch his breath. Gazing upon the picture on the wall, she tore away all of his clothes and freed his cock from the prison of its pants. She crawled back further to reach it with her tongue. She licked it twice, quickening his breathing, and jumped back onto his hips, pulling the projectile into her with a reckless abandon.

Her attention swayed to the image in front of her once again. She envisioned the audience in front of her, captured by her every move. She twisted and turned her body on top of him, groaning in ectasy. His vision remained fixed on her motion, just as it had while he stood quietly in the corner. In her eyes, he remained in the corner as she pushed her body to its limits on top of him. Finally, in one fluid motion, she leaned back and wailed in orgasm and collapsed on top of him, trying to pull herself closer to him, as if to melt into him.

She bent her head back and took one last look into the mirror. As always, the crowd gave her another standing ovation.