She was doing the dildo dance for an audience of one. She had been thinking of this for some time. There was thought behind the gyrations.
But there were also preparations to be made; some things to make the brain send those signals upon their way; some things to make the body start to sway. Then the audience had to be placed; yes just so, just the right distance, just the right height. Could the eye see what it should, yes, oh good. What about the light? Can the audience see the show? It shouldn’t be too bright or too dim. The audience needs depth and separation of dancer, chair and wall to see the action unfold.
It’s time to set the mood with the costume of the dance. The soft feel of white antique stockings as they are rolled upon her legs is a good start. The lace and fingers tickle her thighs as adjustments are made. Black heels of height give some altitude with an attitude. While a black leather corset with bright silver buckles is strapped like a cap above them
Did she wander down a fantasy lane, maybe looked at a video or two or read a story to get ready? Does the audience care? No; it’s just there for the record. Just to document the act for history and conversation if provoked. And ready she must be, for you see she has a small partner in the dance. While most partners are supple and yielding, bending to the flow of rhythm; this one’s stature is small but stands proud, unyielding always ready for a firm inclusion, part caress, part intrusion.
Now it’s time to do the dance. Sitting upon the chair at center stage, knees are parted; both set of lips pulled slightly a part, one to be wetted by a brief peeking tongue, one wet and swelled with anticipation. Her partner now slides upon the surface tantalizing nerves to jitter. If the audience could talk there would be a murmur; no shout. But all that is heard is slight click pop. Up and down left and right, click pop, her partner slides upon the skin. Moisture gathered on its head ready to dance a little bit in. Click pop. An excited clit hiding within its hood feels the parting of the slippery lips. Click pop. With a firm push, in the partner goes, click pop, sliding deep, sighing deep, click pop, the dance is taken to another level. Click pop. In and out the partner goes, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Rhythm varies with the tingles from within. Click pop. The mind pulls and redistributes the energy now flowing all around. Click pop. Feelings accelerate, she stands up to dance to a different tune. Fingers tips keep the partner in the correct stance for this portion of the dance. Click pop, click pop.
Oh…oh she whispers as her partner throbs between her legs with the notes growing stronger. The audience continues to stare. Click pop. Legs begin to tremble, nipples hard and hot, breasts sway to the internal rhythm. Click pop. Little moans escape the upper lips which seek the dry tongue to share some spit, lower lips drip from her partner’s internal lick. Click pop, click pop. Close now to the end, she holds her partner in the intimate embrace. The final movements are right in sync, click pop, click pop, click pop. Twist, turn, up, down, click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop, in out, in out, in out, in out, click pop, click pop, click pop, the audience goes wild.
Then it comes, click pop , the last hurrah, click pop, the last clench, click pop, click pop, the last tight squeeze, click pop, click pop, of her and her partner as the last strains of the music fade in her mind. Click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop.
Her partner now rests upon the chair, wet and glistening from the power of the dance. She goes to the audience to see if its memory of the dance will match hers. She pulls the memory card from its slot, turns the lights off and as she descends the stairs knows that no matter what the record shows; it was a good dance.
Got tired of poems for a bit. Wanted a story. Been working on it for a while, the audience part didn't come until I was into it, threw out half and brought in the click pop of the camera and flash going off. I almost called it Click Pop.
Yes, I love writing, too, but, it takes so much time! Especially if I try it in English of course, but even without that. And I need all my time for the photos! :-)) I can see how you must have worked on it for a long time. And it's much appreciated, D.L.! XXX!
4 comments:
**** Dildo Dance ****
She was doing the dildo dance for an audience of one. She had been thinking of this for some time. There was thought behind the gyrations.
But there were also preparations to be made; some things to make the brain send those signals upon their way; some things to make the body start to sway. Then the audience had to be placed; yes just so, just the right distance, just the right height. Could the eye see what it should, yes, oh good. What about the light? Can the audience see the show? It shouldn’t be too bright or too dim. The audience needs depth and separation of dancer, chair and wall to see the action unfold.
It’s time to set the mood with the costume of the dance. The soft feel of white antique stockings as they are rolled upon her legs is a good start. The lace and fingers tickle her thighs as adjustments are made. Black heels of height give some altitude with an attitude. While a black leather corset with bright silver buckles is strapped like a cap above them
Did she wander down a fantasy lane, maybe looked at a video or two or read a story to get ready? Does the audience care? No; it’s just there for the record. Just to document the act for history and conversation if provoked. And ready she must be, for you see she has a small partner in the dance. While most partners are supple and yielding, bending to the flow of rhythm; this one’s stature is small but stands proud, unyielding always ready for a firm inclusion, part caress, part intrusion.
Now it’s time to do the dance. Sitting upon the chair at center stage, knees are parted; both set of lips pulled slightly a part, one to be wetted by a brief peeking tongue, one wet and swelled with anticipation. Her partner now slides upon the surface tantalizing nerves to jitter. If the audience could talk there would be a murmur; no shout. But all that is heard is slight click pop. Up and down left and right, click pop, her partner slides upon the skin. Moisture gathered on its head ready to dance a little bit in. Click pop. An excited clit hiding within its hood feels the parting of the slippery lips. Click pop. With a firm push, in the partner goes, click pop, sliding deep, sighing deep, click pop, the dance is taken to another level. Click pop. In and out the partner goes, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Rhythm varies with the tingles from within. Click pop. The mind pulls and redistributes the energy now flowing all around. Click pop. Feelings accelerate, she stands up to dance to a different tune. Fingers tips keep the partner in the correct stance for this portion of the dance. Click pop, click pop.
Oh…oh she whispers as her partner throbs between her legs with the notes growing stronger. The audience continues to stare. Click pop. Legs begin to tremble, nipples hard and hot, breasts sway to the internal rhythm. Click pop. Little moans escape the upper lips which seek the dry tongue to share some spit, lower lips drip from her partner’s internal lick. Click pop, click pop. Close now to the end, she holds her partner in the intimate embrace. The final movements are right in sync, click pop, click pop, click pop. Twist, turn, up, down, click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop, in out, in out, in out, in out, click pop, click pop, click pop, the audience goes wild.
Then it comes, click pop , the last hurrah, click pop, the last clench, click pop, click pop, the last tight squeeze, click pop, click pop, of her and her partner as the last strains of the music fade in her mind. Click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop, click pop.
Her partner now rests upon the chair, wet and glistening from the power of the dance. She goes to the audience to see if its memory of the dance will match hers. She pulls the memory card from its slot, turns the lights off and as she descends the stairs knows that no matter what the record shows; it was a good dance.
D.L. Wood
Wow, what a story!
Impressive.
And I especially love that last line.
:-))
Thank you very much, D.L. Wood!
Big warm XXX
Got tired of poems for a bit. Wanted a story. Been working on it for a while, the audience part didn't come until I was into it, threw out half and brought in the click pop of the camera and flash going off. I almost called it Click Pop.
D.L. Wood
Yes, I love writing, too, but, it takes so much time!
Especially if I try it in English of course, but even without that.
And I need all my time for the photos!
:-))
I can see how you must have worked on it for a long time.
And it's much appreciated, D.L.!
XXX!
Post a Comment