Last Friday Night

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As a dancer, I’ve always found mention of the “Strictly curse” to be rather funny (for any international readers, in the UK we have a competition called “Strictly Come Dancing”, and the “strictly curse” refers to the fact that at least one relationship will usually be ruined by the celebrity’s participation in the programme). My boyfriend and I are active dancers, in fact it’s how we first met, and I would now be loathe to let him dance with anyone else for long. No matter how committed, it’s too emotional, too raw and too passionate not to eventually lead to an affair.

One of the perks of staying in the city in which you went to University is you know where all the good clubs are, and you can now afford to buy drinks in any one of them. It’s a bonus that my housemate, Clara, is also still around.

It’s a Friday night in mid-September and having been working three weeks now, am overdue a night of de-stressing. The life of a new graduate is a harsh one, and so I’m also overdue some real alone time with my boyfriend. I’ve chosen my favourite party dress; a body-fitting white number cut at mid thigh and mid-boob, with sleeves. It’s also my boyfriend’s favourite. My white blonde hair is down, straight and mostly under control. The club is an old converted river boat, like the kind you’d expect to find plying the Mississippi rather than tied up in a smudgy corner of a British city quay. You can hear the music beat half a block away, and by the time you step into the main saloon it’s beating at your soul.

We grab a small space on the increasingly packed-out dance floor and get lost in our own worlds. The music stops you thinking about much other than what’s in front of you, and the alcohol washes that away as soon as you blink. All I can see is my boyfriend, and before long he takes hold of me and we dance together. We do all kinds of dance together, but few of them work in a club when you’re squeezed up against hundreds of other drunken students. We settle on an odd mash up of salsa and making out which becomes increasingly physical as the night goes on.

It’s almost two when we half stumble through the doorway and start kissing up against the wall in the hallway. After a few tries, I manage to kick the door properly shut. My boyfriend’s hands are out of control squeezing handfuls of my perky ass, and the slight dip in arousal as we sat respectably in the back of the taxi is gone. My nipples are pressed hard against my dress, and that’s nothing to do with the slightly chill to the midnight air outside. I don’t know how long we make out for, but eventually my desire for him overcomes my desire to kiss him. For a moment I’m rubbing my hands over his back, and then I’m rubbing the bulge in his jeans. Lots of fun happens down there.

“Upstairs?” His voice is electric. I’m pulling him behind me within a second. His arms slip around my waist, holding me back whilst they slip up to my breasts and squeeze hard. His lips press against my neck and cheek and I hear myself murmur. The urge isn’t going away, if anything it’s stronger now, so I break free.

I drop back a few steps on the stairs, since her dress is riding high enough for a pretty nice view. At the top of the stairs she turns to wrap herself around me and we kiss again, narrowly avoiding falling back down them. I take the lead then, pulling her the few steps to our bedroom.

Like the rest of our rented house, we decorated the bedroom carefully. Of course I say we, when really the credit has to go my boyfriend who has much more of an eye for these things than I do. There’s an old fireplace opposite the bed with a mirror above forming a centrepiece, with wardrobes either side. Opposite the door, the window looks out onto our small slice of England and out over the city rooftops. It’s a view that’s surprisingly captivating at times. Now is not one of those illegal bahis times.

We pause to lock lips just half kneeling on the bed, but my attention is with my hands unbuckling his jeans. That done I slink out from his grasp and turn around to kneel on the bed, stretching my arms in front of me and sticking my ass in the air. He isn’t far behind me, and my dress has now ridden up so far that it’s easy for him to pull my panties down to my knees. Delicately I balance on each knee so he can pull them off, and symbolically toss them across the room. I slide back so I’m on my hands and knees as I feel his hand touch my slit. As it’s the fading of the summer bikini season I still keep it shaved smooth and so I’m extra sensitive to his touch. I hear him murmur amusement feeling the wetness there, and stick my foot out to hook him closer. His hand rubs across carelessly and then I feel his lips probing my slit.

I tease her opening first, with my tongue, pushing gently in and out. I then move down to find her clit and tease it from its cover. She trembles and I slide my hands up and down her thighs, running my tongue back and fore between pussy and clit. I don’t have much patience to stay long, but she tastes good.

He pushes me over, pinning me to the bed by holding my arms above my head. We kiss, fooling with each other as he teases me by putting off the moment. Still holding me down he kisses the side of my neck and then all of my shoulders he can reach. To me, each is a little pinprick to my arousal and I feel another wave of wetness released.

When he speaks, his voice is deep and husky. “You want my cock?”

I murmur, hoping I can retain some dignity by making it sound somewhat non-committal. Three seconds later it’s undermined when he pulls the front of my dress down enough that he can suck one of my nipples between his lips.

She has a habit of choosing little lace bras when we go out which undoubtedly make her look wonderful, but provide absolutely no cover to her nipples when she gets cold or, more usually, horny. I lick circles around her areola, about two fingers wide and flushed red. She wants me to take her dress off, but it’s not time for that yet.

I reach for his hard manhood and rub it up and down as best I can. When he moves back to kiss me I can reach better, and roll his balls around between my fingers.

“Turn over,” he whispers. My heart starts to race in anticipation and I do as he asks. He takes hold of my hips so I kneel up and hear another involuntary murmur as his hands slide forward and then back. Again his hand rubs up and down my slit and sends waves of pleasure rolling up my back and into my brain, where they seem to amplify in intensity. I moan his name, and then gasp in a deep breath as the head of his cock pushes against my slit. One of his hands is running across my hips holding him against me. I consciously relax and breathe out feeling his shaft slide inch by inch into my pussy.

We both have quite a high tolerance to any bad effects from alcohol, but whereas it mainly affects my balance, she tends to get tipsy and lose control of her normally set emotions — something that makes evenings like this a lot of fun…

He’s not wrong. His hands are back on my hips now he’s starting to thrust in and out. A sense of relief and satisfaction washes over me first, followed by another burst of desire as he moves faster. I feel kinda dirty still wearing my dress but sink into the character it’s defining for me. I rock back and fore to meet him whilst stretching my arms in front.

The pressure on my cock lessens as she straightens her back but remains intense.

My breasts are jiggling up and down with the rhythm, hanging just low enough that my nipples brush the sheets. He’s going for it now as he lets loose the pressure that’s been building inside illegal bahis siteleri him and the vulnerability I’m feeling as I become absorbed in the passion makes it even hotter. I’ve never been a slut, a surprise to some who’ve known me, but I like it when he makes me feel like one.

I don’t know if she realises how noisy she can get when she’s really turned on, but she’s moaning hard now. I can feel her pussy quivering around my shaft when I bottom out even though she’s absolutely dripping wet.

I almost cum when the weight of his balls smash against my clit, and after he does the same a few more times I actually do. He keeps going at the same rate, prolonging my high as I’m absorbed in a world of my own. When the nirvana passes I’m breathing hard and he slows, scooping his arms underneath my breasts and lifting me up. His shaft is still firm inside me and his lips are hot and ticklish on my neck. The intensity has me hot, too hot to keep this tight-fitting dress on any longer.

“Unzip me,” I ask, and he obliges, his manhood dropping out of my pussy followed by a few drips of arousal. I jump up to slip out of the number and though I know he appreciates the lace lingerie it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before and I ditch that too. Although it’s hot in the bedroom, the air feels cool on my bare skin. With one knee on the bed I lean down to kiss him, enjoying him cupping my breasts properly at last. His free hand rubs my mons casually, and oh so dreamily.

I roll onto my back but instead of welcoming him I rest my weight on my elbows, flat on the bed, and lift my hips to form a bridge. He kneels between my legs with his hands around my hips, guiding his cock back to my kitty. The extra strain on my body in this position is something I can happily cope with, but it multiplies the intensity of his shaft and feels like he is literally stroking my soul. He slips his grip further up my body to relieve the strain on my chest muscles, but not so far that he can’t start another keen pace. I know alcohol dulls his sensitivity somewhat, so I can expect at least another two peaks tonight.

She doesn’t expect much, does she?

That’s love, folks.

With my whole body under strain, every move he makes is powerful. We hold it for maybe two minutes but what a two minutes. I spend most of it feeling on the verge of orgasm and when it finally comes it seems to penetrate into every corner of my body and I collapse. My eyes are tight shut and when I do open them for a while all I can see is stars. My heaving chest settles down and my senses come back to life to my boyfriend running his hand over my chest.

“Roll over,” he says.

I do so, flat on my front with his cock now slipping effortlessly inside me from behind. With my legs spread half apart, my hands clasping with his and the weight of his body on mine driving my hyper-sensitive nipples against the duvet this is my favourite position. The slight upward curve of his manhood does things to my pussy I can’t readily put into words. I arch my back a bit to give him better access and he goes just a little bit deeper. He kisses my neck and then lingers on my shoulder in a show of affection before the finale. He starts slow, making sweeping movements deep inside me and almost withdrawing entirely. There’s something truly absorbing about being totally cocooned like this by someone you love. I moan his name as the pace gets faster. The head of his cock is barely inside me when he pulls back each time and the intensity this creates between my legs is heavenly.

“Your pussy is amazing,” he murmurs in a deep, husky voice. I can only moan in response.

As I near my peak I make slower strokes to prolong my struggling stamina. I let go of her hands and slide mine under her chest to squeeze a breast in each. For half a minute I pull almost entirely out canlı bahis siteleri — only sliding the very tip of my cock in and out of her entrance.

I’m desperate when he’s done with this, whining with complaint when he accidentally slips out.

“Please,” I beg.

He finds the spot again and suddenly he’s going at me with everything he has. I grab handfuls of the duvet and the pillow and anything I can reach as my arousal hits my brain from all sides. My peak comes again in one big tsunami exploding in my head, followed by several smaller surf waves. As they subside, he slams hard against me and groans softly.

“Fuckkkkk,” he murmurs, jabbing in and out a couple of times as he hits his own peak and empties his full load inside me. His hands go from my breasts back to grab my fingers and we squeeze each other tight. With my own pleasure and numbness subsiding I can feel the gentle pulsing of his manhood as his peak slowly drains away.

He murmurs my name, kisses the back of my neck and my shoulders, and then the side of my lips when I turn my head as much as I can to kiss him back. We both roll over onto our sides, spooning, and he scoops an arm across my front.

“Even my fantasies on the dance floor didn’t feel like that,” I finally say.

He chuckles. “That’s safe to say.”

“I’m so into you.”

“As am I…literally.”

We chuckle. “I hope we didn’t third wheel Clara too much,” I say.

“Where did she go, anyway?”

“She went home with some girl.”

I can hear the surprise in his voice. “Oh.”

“Didn’t you know she was bi?”


“I saw you checking her out by the way, I don’t mind, she’s hot.”

Me: I don’t get the bullshit that says you can’t check out other hot people just because you’re in a relationship. I can find other people attractive and fantasize about doing things with them but that doesn’t mean I’d ever actually act on it. Ironic as it may seem for me to say this here, there’s more to life than sex 😉

“I was being appreciative.”

“Yeah, bullshit. I don’t mind, she’s hot, I’d do her.”

“Come again?”

I slip out of his grasp and roll to look at him, grab his head with both hands and we kiss with tongue for a while.

She’s very good at changing the subject when she doesn’t want to talk about something — it’s bloody annoying sometimes. I have long learned to just roll with it.

The kiss finally tails off and with the adrenalin high passing we fall asleep, spooning again.

The alarm clock reads 11.30 before either of us stirs. I get up first and take a long shower. I’m feeling somewhat groggy and my body is tired but feels totally zen. I towel off my hair, brush furiously to get rid of the phantom knots, and think about what to do next.

I’m awake but my body is resisting. Through a half open eye, I watch her towelling off and rifling through the wardrobe. The towel falls to the floor and she spins lightly on one foot having picked out a blue summer dress. I ‘m reminded just how lucky I am.

I have no idea that he’s watching me, but at that moment my attention is diverted by one of my cats padding through the open door and I hurry downstairs to feed her.

After brunch, we decide to head to the studio for an hour or two. The scheduled classes take a break for two hours over lunch so we have the floor practically to ourselves. It’s a chance to bond, relax and in my opinion is the best cure for a hangover. Some of our friends take the piss, but if you’ve ever seen the music video to Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” you can picture our go-to routine. If you’ve never been to a dance studio — there are mirrors all around the walls so you can check out just how hot (or awkward) you look at any given moment as you drape yourself over your lover.


We jazz it up a bit, of course, since my boyfriend is (almost) as competent a dancer as me rather than having just passed a crash course! For the finale I jump in the air and he catches me just below the waist. Suddenly…suddenly I’m not feeling quite so zen any more…

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