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The following is an unpublished work of adult fiction.  Any
resemblance of characters in this work to any person, living or dead,
is unintentional.

Copyright 1998 BitSlinger.  All rights reserved.

The owner of this copyright grants unlimited not-for-profit
redistribution of this work provided that this entire copyright notice
remain intact.

Dance of the Worm

1.

Two left feet.  No, that would be kind.  I was clearly just a man who,
in spite of a few years of playing guitar, had no sense of timing or
rhythm.  What was so damned difficult about learning to two step?  It
certainly looked simple enough.

My impromptu "tutor", a 50ish man who had no doubt taken pity on the
petite woman struggling with my hulking 6 foot 2 form, shrugged his
shoulders and went back to dancing gracefully with his partner.  I
thanked him for his help, and marveled at the way they glided away.
They had a certain elegant communication between them, undoubtedly the
result of many years spent dancing together.

I had determination and persistence.  That must be worth something.
Two or three songs of pure chaos later, we were given a reprieve in
the form of a slow song.  Slow songs were made for rubbing bodies
together, not fancy footwork.  I quickly settled into a position that
gave me the most contact with my date's body.  A few delightful
minutes later she was leading me off of the dance floor and back to
our table.

I wanted to learn to dance for two reasons.  The first was that it
looked like genuine fun for everyone involved.  The second reason was
firmly based in some hormonal abstract logic.  Dancing always seemed
to kindle a romantic fire in women.  Most of the ladies that I had
seen dancing in the clubs were always smiling and flirting with their
partners.  It seemed logical that this sort of romantic play would
most certainly lead to more romantic play at the end of a date.
Selfish, I know, but it's the truth.

Some dates drag mercilessly on through the night.  You can just feel
that somehow you're not connecting.  This was one of those dates.  My
date was gorgeous and had a body that gave me a fever. I knew that
tonight wasn't going to end between her sheets, which made the
cleavage showing beneath her black sweater even more tantalizing.  We
sat quietly nursing our drinks for a while, watching other people move
across the floor, complete with fancy turns.  I watched feet mostly.
There must have been something obvious in the steps that I was
missing.  My date was polite, and didn't look at her watch even once
as the night crawled on.  We made small talk, pointing out which
couples looked like they had been together for ages.

After a few drinks I was feeling pretty mellow, and started stealing
glances at the way my date's legs disappeared into her skirt.  The
barstool was too high for her.  Her dangling legs had pushed her skirt
up enough to tease me with a captivating view of her thighs.  The
beige of her panty hose contrasted nicely with the denim of her skirt.
The V where her legs came together in the shadow of her skirt was dark
and enticing.

A hand blurred across my vision.  Her gesture broke a gaze that had
been lost in the mysterious shadow between her legs, and she knew it.
I was embarrassed and made a lame apology.  She smiled and asked me if
I would like to dance again before taking her home.  A slow song was
playing.  I knew before we stood up that there was no way she could
miss the lump in my pants if we danced the way we had earlier.  A
thought brushed the edge of my alcohol induced groove that this might
be a problem, but it was quickly pushed aside by the thought of how
her body had felt during our previous slow dance.

I was a little buzzed, but far from too drunk to notice the unsteady
way that she moved into my arms.  She giggled as she pressed against
me.  She played with the buttons on my shirt as she swayed against my
erection.  The way that her tits drew the rough material of her
sweater across my shirt was electric.  The song ended much too soon.
She giggled and winked as she told me that it was time to 'take her to
bed'.  She finished the last swallow of her drink before we left for
her place.

A few drinks ago I was certain that I would be sleeping alone tonight,
and now she had warmed up considerably.  The slur in her voice and the
alcohol on her breath as I kissed her at her door told me that she
might regret this in the morning.  Don't get me wrong; Deep down I'm
just as much of an asshole as the next guy. One or two drinks more
would have silenced my conscience.  As it was, I liked this woman.  It
took a serious effort on my part to end the evening with the
ubiquitous "I had a good time" and a nice kiss, but nothing more.

My reward was a lovely phone call the next day thanking me for not
taking advantage of her, along with a polite declining at the
suggestion of another date.

2. 

A few days later I was invited to a birthday party at a country and
western bar.  I knew most of the people who would be there, and
figured someone would teach me how to dance.  It was a week night and
the club was almost empty.  Most of the people there were either
married or otherwise attached, but my luck held and a friend's wife
was happy to teach me how to dance.  I had some success, and at one
point mentioned that it would be great if there was some way to get
practice without subjecting a date to bruised feet.

"The bar gives free two step lessons on Tuesday nights.  You don't
need a partner. There's usually some older ladies there who need a
partner", my good Samaritan said as we walked back to the table.

What a great idea!  I didn't care how old my dancing partner was, as
long as she put up with my klutzyness.  The very next Tuesday, I was
at the bar with great expectations.  The instructor called all of the
couples onto the floor, and then asked for the single people in the
group.  I was paired up with Sandy, an older woman who seemed a little
timid at first.  Older is, of course, a relative term.  She was a mere
37 to my 25, but that was older than any woman I had previously had
the pleasure of being intimate with.

"I hope you don't mind, but I don't know how to dance", Sandy said in
a mousy voice.

"That's why this is beginners night".  I had hoped that I would find
someone who was a little less of a beginner than I was, but Sandy was
nicely shaped and very pretty.  I could think of worse ways to spend a
Tuesday night.

"The first thing that you ladies need to know," the instructor
announced, "is that it's nearly impossible to do this if your arms are
like wet dishrags.  Keep them stiff, and you'll automatically go where
your partner goes."  This drew a chuckle from the crowd.  Well, maybe
my last date was a little to blame for my ineptitude after all.  As it
turned out, the instructor gave great directions and went through very
exaggerated steps with his partner.  Suddenly the two step didn't seem
nearly so difficult.

Sandy must have been in space for this "first instruction" because her
arms were like noodles as we began to move around the floor in our
first practice song.  "Ow!"  Her eyes lit up in startled amazement as
I turned her arm behind her back and pulled it gently up in the
'uncle' position.

"If your arms weren't like wet dishrags, your whole body would've
turned and I wouldn't have you where I want you,"  I teased, and after
a brief pause corrected myself, "Umm you'd move where I want you to."

Sandy giggled uncontrollably for a minute.  We had broken the ice. 

At the end of the evening we agreed that we danced pretty well
together, and decided to meet again next week.

3. 

The next Tuesday when I arrived at the bar, Sandy and her group of her
friends were already there.  I went to say hi.

"Get a room, you two."  The sharp laughter from across the table
momentarily drew everyone's attention.  Fran was sitting on Dave's
lap, kissing him with undisguised passion.  His hands were roaming
over her ass, hers holding his face.  "I swear, Dave, you two always
look like you're joined at the lips.   Your hands are going to wear a
hole in her jeans.  You could at least wait until after the lesson." 

Dave broke from Fran's kisses momentarily.  "You're just jealous
because you don't have a man to get you all wet before lessons."  

Paula took his rude remark in stride.  "Well, yeah, there is that."

Sandy met me with an embarrassed smile.  We made smalltalk and went to
the floor with the couples.  The instructor began with his 'wet
dishrag' speech.  It didn't seem as funny the second time around.

The first two weeks some of Sandy's friends from work came for
lessons.  She liked the easy social atmosphere.  We clustered together
in a group during breaks and after lessons.  Once we got beyond the
standard pleasantries and chitchat of the first couple of weeks we
developed a genuine friendship.  I learned that she was divorced and
had two boys, 17 and 20 years old. She had spent 20 years putting them
first and now they were old enough to be on their own.  She was ready
to spend her time and energy on herself.

4.

Sandy's friends had other commitments and one week we found that were
a group of two.  The instructor's witty 'dishrag speech' had grown
old, but both our skill and our friendship seemed to grow a little bit
more each week.   Dance lessons would end reasonably early, but they
were at the end of a work day.  After Sandy's friends stopped coming,
I would walk her to her car and then go get something to eat before
heading home. It was late December, and where we live that means some
nights are bearable but most are too cold to stand outside long.

On a night that was just too cold to be tolerable we weren't finished
talking when we reached Sandy's car, and she suggested talking in her
car.  We were sitting and talking when she leaned over and gave me a
nice kiss.

"I had an impulse and went with it," Sandy said with a shy smile.

I was a taken off guard.  I knew that Sandy was attractive, but I
hadn't really considered anything happening romantically between us.
"I like your impulses."

Sandy smiled.  It wasn't a wicked smile or a sexy smile, it was just a
happy smile.  Her smile made me feel like that I would enjoy getting
to know her better.

We talked for a little while longer and during the first
'uncomfortable silence' I returned her kiss.  We couldn't get close
enough for an embrace.  In a little Datsun with bucket seats, a six
foot man doesn't have much room to cuddle up.  We just awkwardly
leaned towards each other.  Our kisses weren't hot and passionate,
they were very light, playful, and exciting.  Things were simply
different with a woman that I wasn't trying to seduce.

"You're fun to kiss."  I thought the little compliment filled the
momentary silence nicely.  Kissing this woman was a sensual
experience. She was enticing.  Exciting.  Sandy had a wonderful way of
moving her whole body when she kissed.  She never turned her head
without accentuating the movement with the rest of her body.  She
combined that with a smile between kisses.  It was delightful to kiss
a woman who was enjoying the moment.

She ran her tongue over my lips, sometimes sliding between my lips
only to quickly pull back and sometimes letting her tongue play with
mine.  Her whole body would move with each new kiss.  Eventually the
playful kisses turned more passionate.  I took a kissing tour of her
cheek, nibbled her neck and earlobe, and ran my tongue along her ear.
Sandy kissed my cheek and brought my roaming mouth back home to her
lips.  She began to breath quicker with her kisses.  Her kisses became
satiny as her breath mixed audibly with each hungry, wet, probing
kiss.

She let out a slow breath that had the most exciting marbling of
sexual desire in it and broke our kiss with a barely audible moan.
The look on her face was indecision, her voice shy and trembling.  "If
we're going to kiss like this I'm not going to be able to decide if I
should stop."

The words seemed odd, not quite belonging together in a sentence.  I
wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt compelled to say something to
make her feel comfortable.  "Any time you want to stop is okay with
me."

Her pause was brief, but the moment seemed to last for hours as I
tried to read her face.  She looked me in the eye and spoke slowly,
the choice of each word an obvious effort.  "I mean that if I get any
more turned on I won't be able to decide to stop.  God, I'm so hot and
horny right now."

I had no idea how to take that.  I was flattered that I could get her
so hot and bothered, but I had never even imagined that this timid
woman could be so overcome by sexual excitement that she would do
something that she wouldn't otherwise do.  Should I seduce her?  I
knew from her breathing and the flush of her face that she was mine if
I wanted her.

The problem with getting to know a woman before trying to get into her
pants is that once you begin to respect her, your primal instinct to
fuck her senseless gets fuzzy.  Suddenly it becomes more important to
do the right thing than to do the wild thing.  It had left me high and
dry on my last date.

"You know, we see each other every week.  If you need to cool off and
see how you feel, I'm okay with that."

"Okay."  The effort of composing herself was in her voice.  She seemed
distracted as we started to say our good nights.  She paused.  The
distant look on her face melted into a determined smile.  "I don't
want to say good night yet.  Mmmm.  I love sex.  I haven't had sex in
such a long time. I miss the excitement."

I wasn't sure if I was just hearing what I wanted to hear.  She hadn't
exactly said, 'fuck me'.  "I'd love to have sex with you".  This was
quite possibly one of the strangest conversations that I've ever had
with a woman.

She smiled and perked up in a giddy pose.  "Good.  Then lets have
sex!"  Make that definitely one of the strangest.

4.

Sandy made it clear that she was ready right then and there.
Unfortunately, neither of us lived very close to the club.  Sandy made
it clear that sex in the parking lot was out of the question, but she
didn't want to drive very far.  We found a little park with a good
view of the city not far from the club.  As small as it was, the back
seat of the car was larger than the front so we moved there as soon as
Sandy parked the car.

There wasn't any urgency in the way she moved.  "Let's see now, where
were we?  Oh yes..."  She seemed intent on enjoying the moment and
started to gently kiss me again.

I was delighted by her kisses and was absent mindedly enjoying the
feel of her silk shirt as I ran my hands over her body.  I made mental
pictures as I was caressing her.  I closed my eyes as I felt the lines
of her bra strap. A sensual picture of shoulder blades curving without
the garish intrusion of its shape formed in my head.  The wandering
fingers of my other hand brushed the seams and buttons of her blouse,
pressing lightly through the silk, feeling the soft resistance of her
tummy above her jeans.  The curve of her back in my mind pooled into
the curve of her abdomen and the dimple of a belly button.  My fingers
slid just slightly into the waistband to feel the elastic of her
panties.  Her body first tensed, then relaxed.  The moment of
indecision was brief, she moved her hand to the buckle of her belt.

"You make me feel good."  The unfastening of her buckle sounded harsh
in contrast with her voice.  "So relaxed.  So hot."

I didn't reply.  Touching her body was entrancing.  I moved my palm
across her tummy, tracing the line of her panties as my hand slid
beneath her jeans. I stopped briefly when my fingers met the tangle of
her pubic hair.  Sandy had brown hair.  "What color?"  I wanted to
picture what I would find when I finally slid her panties away.

"Brownish black", she giggled as my hand moved from her waist to
circle her navel.  She was expecting it to move the other direction.

I drew my hand upwards and felt the under-wire of her bra.  The bottom
of her breasts were firm, captured in her bra.  My fingers traced the
curve along the bottom, then up the side to where the strap met the
cup.  Sandy's breathing had that exciting sexual fever to it again.
Between the cool night air and her excitement her nipples were very
stiff, their shape distinct in spite of her heavy bra.  I rubbed her
nipples through the fabric.  Her kisses became weak as her lower lip
trembled.

Her reaction was getting to me, and I moved my fingers to unbutton her
blouse.  I began with the center buttons, just enough to slide my hand
inside to massage her breast again.   She moaned from deep inside her
chest and pushed me away.  "You're driving me crazy!"  The frustration
was clear in her voice.  She reached up to unbutton her blouse and
quickly removed it.

As she leaned to set it on the front seat I teasingly asked, "Are your
nipples as exciting with nothing on them as they are all covered up?"

"There's an electric wire that goes strait from my nipples to my
pussy."  Her bra joined the blouse on the front seat.  "When you play
with them like that my whole body is on fire."  She turned to look me
in the eye, mock seriousness on her face.  "What are you going to do
if they aren't, anyway?"

"I'll tease and play with them until you beg me to stop."

"No more teasing.  It's time to get down to business."

I was beginning to like this woman even more.  I leaned over to nibble
on her nipples, "Is sucking your nipples teasing or real sex?"

She began to grin uncontrollably.  She shook her head a little,
"Mmmmmn, you're making my pussy so wet.  I like it when you talk like
that.  Tell me what you're going to do to me.  Be raunchy."  Yet
another surprise from this woman. 

I knew what I wanted to do, and started by saying what was on my mind.
"I'm going to open your jeans and play with your pussy."

"That's a start.  When I'm this hot I really like it raunchy.  Make me
feel nasty."

This woman was an erotic adventure.  Exploring her sexuality this way
seemed to be the beginning of a fascinating journey.  She knew what
made her river run, and wasn't afraid to ask for it.  The trouble was
that I knew lots of raunchy words, but I had never bothered to string
them together into coherent sentences before.  'Nice ass' and 'Man,
I'd like to fuck that' are short and to the point, and not usually
terribly interesting to women.  I rose to the challenge.  "I'll spread
your cunt lips and tongue your clit."  She made a little cooing sound
like a bird, an encouraging sound.  "I'll finger your fuck hole.  I
want to lick your cunt.  Are you wet?  Can I get a real good taste of
you?"

Each nasty sentence produced a grin and a sound that started with a
mmmh and ended with a deep breath.  She pinched and pulled at her
nipples as I alternated my sexual poetry with kisses from her belly
button downward.  Unfortunately, the seat wasn't big enough to bend
over very far. 

"It looks like your pussy isn't going to be eaten after all."  My
matter of fact statement drew the cutest pouty face from Sandy.

"We'll just have to change positions until you can keep your
promises."  The determination woven into her equally matter of fact
reply made me smile.

"Those were suggestions, not promises."  I felt like a politician.  I
would never make a good politician.  My denial was week.  There was no
question that I would do anything she asked if she would let me do
just half of the nasty things I had said while pushing her buttons.

"Promise or not, you're going to do what you said you were going to
do."  She unbuttoned my pants and we somehow managed to get me out of
them before we struggled into a 69 position.  It's not so easy across
the back seat of a Datsun.

Her pale skin and the light of the street lamp gave her sex an erotic
glow as she lay back and spread her legs.  Her right leg and shoulder
pressed against the seat back.  I had little room to move and the
playground between her legs was half obscured.  I ran my fingers
through her pubic hair, caressed her outer labia and inner thighs as
she teased my cock with her tongue.  My fingers moved to spread her
lips.  I drank her musky scent in labored breaths.  The dim amber
street light made her rosy wet flower shine.  She was wet and slick.
I drew her moisture up and around her clit.  I teased her, circling
her clit briefly only to slide my fingers back into her warm depth.

I moved to lick her clit, but found myself blocking the light.  How
utterly frustrating.  I wanted to see her up close and personal.
Little kisses trailed across her inner thigh to the soft skin of her
mons, drawn to the musky scent that teased with the promise of a taste
of heaven.  Sandy was drawing my stiff prick in and out of her mouth
as my tongue traced the curve of her inner lips.  Her taste
electrified me as I dipped into her nectar.  Sandy went stiff and
cried out.

"I barely touched you!"  I was surprised that she came so quickly.  A
moment later it was my turn to yelp as something wet and very cold
dribbled down my balls.

"Cold!" she ejaculated.  It took me a moment to figure out what she
was talking about.  The windows were covered with condensation,
evidence of the heavy breathing we had been doing.  A streak across a
window where her foot had drawn though it told me that her cry was not
of pleasure.

"Do you want to try another position?"

"Are you trying to get out of eating my pussy?  Come on, get to it.
God, I want to explode."

Her scent was heavy and exotic.  Sandy was very turned on and very
wet.  I spread her slick honey around and gently blew on it to give
her a little chill.  She whispered something between short breaths
that I didn't quite hear.  I went back to pleasing her.  A few moments
later she was squirming around beneath me, her hips pushing up and
down in an erotic dance with my mouth.

A muffled moan became clearer as she let me slide from her mouth.  She
was panting, and the spit she had left on my dick was suddenly cold.
Payback?   I licked and probed with my tongue as well as I could in
the limited space.  The fingers of my left hand were treated to a wet
bath as they pushed inside of her, fucking her to the rhythm of her
hips.  Her breathing became shorter and her body writhed under me.
She tensed, her hips pushing to press her sex into my face but
restricted by the cramped space.  I pushed my fingers deeper, stroking
the satin walls of her center as my tongue quickly between her swollen
lips and over her clit.

Sandy began to cum.  "Unnnngggghhh," a single long grunting sound as
if she was lifting a heavy object.  She tensed, pressing her warm
cheek against the inside of my thigh.  "Yes.  Yes."  The grunt and the
tension in her body faded into short breaths and an erotic bucking
until her hips stopped moving beneath me.  "I needed that."  She ran
her tongue along my shaft.  The wetness on my fingers as I drew them
from her said that she was ready for more.  I savored the taste on
each finger as I sucked it clean.  "Are you ready to fuck me?  I don't
have a hard cock in my hands very often.  I'm going to make the most
of tonight."  Definitely ready for more.

It must have taken us ten minutes to find a way in that little back
seat to get me inside of her.  The windows were covered with very cold
water and each movement was in fear of a cold wet surprise.  We
finally managed; sideways on the seat, Sandy on top, facing away from
me.  I wanted to watch her as we screwed, but there was just no way.

"The first thing that you need to know," Sandy announced in a vaguely
recognizable impression of our instructor, "is that it's nearly
impossible to do this if your cock is like a wet dishrag."  She began
to giggle, "Keep it stiff, and you'll automatically go where your
partner goes."  Uncontrolled laughter filled the Datsun.

"I guess it's your turn to lead..."  my voice trailed off in mid
sentence.  My whole body tensed as she slid her wet hot cunt down onto
my cock.  The feeling was exquisite.  Her back curved in a slight arc
as she rode me.  "Faster," I moaned.  I was wedged in the seat.  An
unintentional bondage of sorts.  Torture.  I wanted quick thrusts, but
was helpless to satisfy the desire.

Sandy had her own sensual pace.  She looked over her shoulder at me
with a look of pure delight on her face.  She drew herself up almost
off of me, then came down hard and fast. "Like this?"  The shiver in
her voice told me that she liked the long deep plunges as much I did.
Moments later a ripple ran through her body, her muscles clenching my
cock.  "Not yet," she gasped.  "I don't want to cum yet.  This feels
sooo good."  The slow sensual rhythm returned.  She slid her hand
between our legs and stroked my cock in time with the movement of her
hips.

I melted, mumbled noises echoing the pleasure rippling through my
body.  She knew how to make her pleasure last.  My body was in a state
of sweet delirium, every nerve screaming for release.  I ached to cum,
but watching her satisfy her need, drawing out her orgasm, was
mesmerizing.  Sandy's pace quickened to match the pulse of her
breathing.  I felt the hand on my cock drift to stroke her sex.  I
wanted desperately to watch her, her hands, her breasts, her face as
she drove us both headlong into ecstasy.

"Aaaaahhh."  Her head rolled back, her face contorted with pleasure.
She ground down hard against my pelvis, fingers frantically rubbing
her clit.  The spasming flesh imprisoning my cock held me in the white
hot agony between climax and release.  At her mercy.  Trapped beneath
her shaking body.  I felt her thighs relax, her shoulders flexed
slightly.  If she stopped now, I would die.  She turned to smile at me
and began to fuck me again.  This time for me, her eyes promised.

I exploded inside and out.  Her grinning face became a blur as the
pleasure wracking my body wrenched at my attention.  I came.  Her hand
and pussy worked magic as I slid from climax to the softer pleasure of
afterglow.  She seemed content to share this warm pleasure with me.
An exquisite trickle ran from our joined bodies over my pulsing cock
and balls.  The sensation drew me back to reality.

Sandy drew herself off of my slimy shrinking cock.  She turned to face
me, her wonderful pussy leaving wet kisses along my leg as she moved
to kiss me.  "That was wonderful.  Thank you."

"I like the way that you lead, you're a natural."

"I don't get to lead very often, I need more practice."

"Okay," was all that I could manage in reply.

Hot sexual excitement gave way to the unyielding cold.  We made little
jokes about how hard it was to dress without moving as we avoided the
windows.  Sandy drove us back to the bar.

I kissed Sandy good night at my car.  "How about dancing Friday
night?"

"I'd love to."



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