I'm a modern dance instructor, and a few weeks ago a couple showed up at my modern dance class. They were the absolute picture of ski slopes fitness, the sorts who set the pace at resorts such as Aspen and Vail. I soon learned that they were both in fact competitive skiers and were taking my advanced dance class as part of their regimen to get in shape for the rigors of the upcoming winter ski season.
I talked to them briefly a couple of times and found out they were married. The husband was great looking, but he was a real jerk. The sort of guy who from high school was the captain of this and the captain of that, and it all went to his head. A good looking but cocky asshole who thought he was God's gift to women.
But the wife was something else. She was sweet and courteous, even a little bit shy and demure. And yet she was every bit as perfect a specimen as her husband, a real beauty. But somehow it didn't seem as though it had gone to her head.
Naturally, being a gay woman, I focused my attention on her. This tall, incredibly fit ski wife brought a little tingle down below whenever she walked into my dance class. And dressed as she was in her skintight leotard she made my knees weak. The only downer was that she was always accompanied by that jerk of a husband of hers.
While Ingrid -- that was her name -- was sweetly shy, there was also a very perceptible erotic glow, or radiance, about her, at least so it seemed to be. Plus, there was something about the way she moved. A natural dancer, Ingrid had the physical gracefulness of a well-oiled cat. A strawberry blonde with big hazel eyes, she had the cutest freckles all over her.
I think I would have been attracted and intrigued by her wherever I saw her, but in a dance class everything is highlighted. Women wearing leotards or tights, their bodies covered with the sheen of sweat that comes from vigorous dancing. To many the whole environment reeks of sex. Though I appreciated an attractive man, a well-sculpted, fit, and graceful male body, those bodies did nothing for me, sexually speaking. But it was another story altogether with my female students. It was when I began teaching advanced modern dance and ballet classes, seeing all those good-looking, in-shape women, that I became more and more turned on, more and more promiscuous. I'd pick out one or two lithe beauties in my class and have fantasies about them.
And few women churned up the feverish fantasies in my head more than lovely, sexy Ingrid.
I began to daydream about this tall, young, athletic wife with her slender waist, hard washboard stomach, lovely breasts and legs that went forever. And when I once saw her naked in the locker room after taking a shower my head literally began to spin, I was that excited.
Well, one night Ingrid came to class alone, without her husband. I was thrilled, even though I didn't quite know why. I had chatted with her a little, but there were never any signs that she could be any more than a fantasy object for me. Still, it was great to see her there without her spouse.
"Hi," I said in the locker room when I saw her drying herself off after showering. Naturally, seeing her in that state I had to contain myself. "Where's your husband tonight?"
"Oh, he had to go back East where he's endorsing some ski equipment," she said.
She looked at me like she wanted to say something else.
"Can I ask you something?" she finally said. "I hope I'm not being presumptuous, and that you won't be angry. I may be making all this up. But I've noticed you've been looking at me. And you've been looking at me in this -- uh-- special way. If I'm just making it up, I'm real sorry. But I thought I'd ask..."
She looked down shyly, having trouble continuing.
"Go on," I urged.
"Well, I was just wondering that maybe you were -- oh, it's so hard for me to say this -- I was wondering whether you were maybe -- attracted to women?"
I took a deep breath, wondering how to respond. I was a little taken aback that she had noticed this in me, detecting that there was something sexual about the way I gazed at her. Though I often felt that way about women in my class I did my best not to reveal it, to remain professional, and not act as though I was making a pass, or something. But I was also thrilled that all this was coming out.
"Well, actually I am attracted to women," I confessed.
"You aren't gay, are you?" she asked.
"I am gay," I told her bluntly.
"Have you been thinking along those lines yourself?" I asked, trying to be tactful, yet making sure this conversation moved to the direction I desired. "Feeling some sexual attraction to women?"
"Well, as you can see, I'm married and I'm straight and all that. But I've always wanted to try being intimate with a woman and to see what that was all about."
She couldn't have been more frank, a look of longing on her face.
"Do you think that possibly you could show me? After all, you're my dance teacher, maybe you can instruct me in some other kinds of -- how shall I put it? -- vigorous physical activity."
She took a deep breath. I think she was amazed at herself that she could be as frank, almost brazen as this.
"Maybe I can," I said as we boldly gazed at each other.
Talk about dreams coming true!
Of course the most amazing thing about all this was that we were actually having this conversation while she was in the nude. I had walked in on her in the locker room just after she had taken her shower and was drying herself off. And that's the state she was in as she talked to me about the possibility of my introducing her to the pleasures of girl-girl sex.
Now, looking around to make sure no other women were in view, I slid my hand between Ingrid's legs and squeezed her there gently. She closed her eyes and sighed when she felt that.
"I'm going to make you feel very, very good, Ingrid," I whispered. "That, I can promise."
"Oh, I really hope so!" she said longingly, tenderness and anticipation in her voice.
"I will," I said, leaning over to give her a soft kiss.
"You know, we can go to my place," she said, "Like I told you, my husband's out of town."
"I'd love to go back to your place with you. But first let me go in and shower. That was a hard work-out tonight. You're nice and clean, but I'm still all funky and sweaty."
"Oh please, stay like that, just like you are" she said, pulling on my arm. "I'd love it if you stayed the way you are. When you're teaching class I look at you getting sweaty and I see the stains under your arms and the film of sweat on your back when you turn around. Somehow, seeing you like that excites me a lot."
So pretty Ingrid had a little fetish for my sweat. Hmmmmm? I began wondering about her.
"Alright then," I said. "I'll come back with you all nice and sweaty and funky then."
The second we were back at her place she was all over me. Since this was to be her first time with a woman I expected she'd be a little hesitant. But that wasn't true at all. She was inflamed with seemingly unquenchable desire the second we got in the door. She hugged me so tightly and kissed me so intensely, her lips open, her tongue darting into my mouth, that I thought she'd hug the breath out of me. And the way she looked into my eyes as she wrapped her arms around me, surrendering to me, it was as though she needed affection as much as anything. I knew that feeling.
I took her hand and asked her to lead me to her bedroom.
There, we rapidly took off our clothes, both breathless with arousal. Her hazel eyes sparkled, glistened with desire. Gently I pushed her down on my bed, then snuggled alongside her. Again we kissed deeply, tenderly, our hands softly gliding all over each others' bodies. She spread her legs wide as my fingers traveled downward over her stomach. She was ready! When I touched her pussy I saw that she was already thoroughly wet down there.
"I'm going to make you feel so good!" I whispered.
Slowly I brought my lips down to her neck. She smelled so sweet after her shower and her skin was smooth and silky. When my lips moved towards her breasts, she moaned so longingly it almost broke my heart. She had beautiful breasts and tiny, dark nipples, a strange contrast to her pale skin. I tantalized her, slowly kissing and licking every inch of each of her breasts and sucking on both nipples. Her breath was heavy now as she pressed my head against her breasts.
"Yes! Yes!" she murmured, her eyes closed tightly, her face in a grimace that almost looked like pain, but which I knew was the intense need to be satisfied, to be overwhelmed with affection and the joys of new pleasures.
My lips moved further down as I licked her navel, then further as I felt the curls of her pubic hair against my lips.
"Ohhh!" she panted uncontrollably.
Now I was between her legs, staring at her pussy. She had a pretty pussy too, very small, with perfectly etched labia. And at the cleft stood her clit, glossy and round as a sweet pea. I kissed that sensitive pea very gently and, as I did, her whole body trembled.
"Oh, yes... yes!" she murmured, her desires finally being fulfilled. I feasted on her now. I devoured her, I consumed her! She was grinding her pelvis wildly against my probing tongue, begging for it! Desperate for it!
