A woman dances the same way she fucks.
Soft and self-conscious; lithe and graceful. Or wild. Passionate.
It’s not just women either. If you want to know how a man will perform between the sheets, just take him to the nearest dance floor. You’ll learn everything you need to know. His stamina, his rhythm, the slow grind of his hips. Some people are born to it, others learn through years of careful study.
And dancers? We fuck best of all.
Our bodies are our instruments, and we use them in a symphony of pure pleasure. We know just how far to push you, the breathless pacing of true art. The rise and fall that will make you beg for mercy; the ache of satisfaction when we give it to you hard and strong.
Dancing is the ultimate in sensual pleasure, a timeless erotic ritual that needs no words.I thought I knew what it was like to dance with a skilled partner, a woman who could match my every step. My drive.
Then I met her.
Every step she takes conjures wild, dark fantasies in my mind. Every sway of those hips demands satisfaction. My hands on her body. Her lips parted in the sweet gasp of release. Easing those sweet thighs apart and sinking inside deep her, inch by ravenous inch.
Her innocence is intoxicating. My lust is fierce. Primal.
To watch her dance is to know the torment of true temptation.
She will be mine.
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