My boss Alex celebrated his 50th birthday last November with a party in his house, inviting almost 70 friends and employees from his bakery and its 6 outlets around town. He'd invited our better halves as well, so my husband David accompanied me to the party.
Alex's wife, Catherine and I had attended belly-dancing classes together several years earlier, and even though she dropped out after a few weeks, I carried on and had become quite good – in an amateur sort of way. She'd been to several company events where I'd danced, so it didn't surprise me a bit when she asked me to perform at Alex's party. He didn't know of course, but then most of the evening's entertainment was kept a secret. Catherine sent me up to the loft bathroom, two storeys over the party, so that no one would disturb me while I got changed. The bathroom was tiny with a toilet cubicle inside it. There was a large mirror above the sink and that was all that I really needed to put on my make up.
I got into my silk thong and the sheer, red chiffon pyjamas then I put on my red top – which is actually a silk bra with bells and coins stitched onto it. Since the thong barely covered anything, I'd shaved my pubic hair. The silver chains with little bells, the hand and head ornaments, and the bells around my ankles all went on before I put on my final make up. I sprinkled gold dust on my breasts, arms and belly for added effect. The woman looking at me in the mirror was hot!
After the stand-up comedian finished his act, Catherine put on the CD I'd made for this event and I danced in to the room. A hush settled over the room before my husband David started clapping to the beat, inspiring others to do the same. I shimmied around the room a few times, teasing and caressing men with my thin chiffon veil. I didn't touch anyone, but some of the men tried to grope me. I sidled away in time every time. As the second melody started I moved over to Alex and turned his chair away from the table, facing me. I danced very close to him, teasing and taunting him with my cleavage, my wiggling bottom and my hands. I used the chiffon veil to snare him around his neck and draw him into my bosom, all the while doing a fast belly dance. I moved behind him and bent over him, and rubbed my breasts up and down his neck and head while holding the veil in front of his face so his face was hidden. The guests were clapping and cheering as I danced for my boss. I could see he was flustered, which thrilled me even more. When I'd danced 4 dances I was totally exhilarated by both the dance and by the looks I'd got from Alex and other men. I was tingling throughout my body as I ran up the stairs to the loft bathroom to get changed back to my normal gear. I always get excited when dancing for a receptive audience, and now I was on a high I'd almost never experienced before.
I locked the door of the bathroom and took off my chiffon pyjamas. I stood there getting my breath back, just looking at myself in the mirror. I was taken by surprise when the door to the toilet cubicle opened and Amir, the driver who delivers stuff to my shop, stepped out. I quickly put my arm the front of my red sequined satin bra to cover up since it was open at the back and my breasts were hanging loose. I felt horribly exposed standing there in my thong and my open top. Since the bathroom was tiny, I bent forward over the sink supporting myself against the mirror on the wall with one hand and holding the bra against my breasts with the other. Nervously I looked at Amir and giggled; "Now you can pass behind me".
He slid sideways along the wall behind me without touching me but suddenly he lunged forward and put his arms around me. He drew me to him, his right hand sliding down my belly while his left moving upwards. I panicked and jabbed my elbow at him, but his arm deflected my jab.
"What do you think you're doing" I screamed and jabbed my other elbow towards his body, without any success. In fact the second I let go of the bra to jab him, he slid his left hand up under it and cupped my breast.
"You want this, shlicke, I know you need this" he said.
"You must be nuts" I retorted, trying to get out of his grip. For a few moments I tried to gather my thoughts before I said "If you don't let go, I'll scream for help" .
"Relax, Sandra" he said quietly, "you'll love it". All the while he was rubbing his forefinger along my pussy, pushing the silk thong into my slit. With his other hand he was brushing softly against my nipple, sending shivers through my body. I kept struggling, while he carried on, pushing aside the miniature triangle of the thong to directly rub my clit. I felt his soft woollen trousers against my bottom - which for all practical purposes was nude - and felt his cock growing and hardening as he pressed into me. The exhilaration from the dancing combined with the absurdity of the situation left me slightly dazed. I kept repeating that he should stop, but his insistent stroking and his mouth nuzzling at the nape of my neck was reducing my resistance.
"Your cunt is clean-shaven, like a whore" he said.
"I only did it for the bellydancing tonight" I replied, but he wasn't listening.
I practically didn't notice and didn't react to the fact that his hand moved away from my breast to open his fly. Holding the thong to one side with one hand I felt him stab at my pussy from behind and before I knew what was happening, he had his cock inside me. I panicked and struggled again, but he held my wais firmly with both hands bending me over the sink, stabbing his cock deeper and deeper into me.
He kept muttering things like "Your cunt feels like butter" and "I told you that you'd love it".
I looked at my image in the mirror, with my top loosely hanging above my breasts, his hands holding my waist and his cock, pumping in and out of my body and my face – a picture of lust. His face, peeking over my shoulder, was concentrated. Not more than two or three minutes had passed since he had come out of the toilet, and I was already overcome by a feeling of wanting more. I caught myself accepting this and said "Amir, stop please – someone might come".
He just kept up the stroking in and out of me, probably hitting my G-spot judging by the signals going to my brain. "Don't be silly, shlicke, I heard you lock the door when you came in". This was of course perfectly true.
His hand was back to brushing my nipple while his other hand was rubbing my belly. I could hear ourselves fucking since the bells, coins and sequins on my top and the chain around my waist were jingling to the steady strokes. I don't think I ever experienced anything as erotic as being fucked from behind watching it happen in a mirror while hearing the sound of our bodies smacking against each other accompanied by bells.
I felt myself approaching an orgasm "Jeez, I'm coming".
"Hang on" he said, pumping more vigorously. I came almost right afterwards, feeling wave after wave from within my pussy, spreading out into my belly. He was pumping fast and deep and suddenly grunted, changing to a jerking movement as deep within me as he could get. My knees felt like jelly and wouldn't support me, but having his cock up my pussy and his arms around me I managed to keep standing. I leant back against his body, which was resting against the wall. I felt his cock shrivel and slide out of my pussy. Turning my head sideways I stuck out my tongue which he sucked into his mouth. We kissed passionately for a long time, his tongue pushing mine aside and playing with it inside my mouth.
When we stopped kissing I looked in the mirror and was jerked back to reality. "We better get back to the party" I said. "After all, I only came upstairs to get changed".
"Clean my cock" he said, so I took a towel off the rack and wet a corner of it under the tap. "No, no" he said, "do it with your beautiful mouth". I turned around to face him and bending over, I lifted his cock into my mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He pushed my shoulders down saying "it's better on your knees, then I can see your face".
I did as he asked and continued licking his cock and balls. I looked up at his face but instead saw his mobile phone pointing at me. He was taking pictures. "Don't do that" I protested, but he just put his hand behind my head to hold me in position and carried on taking pictures even though I'd stopped licking him.
I got up angrily but he just smiled and said "Don't be mad at me. I just want something to remember our experience by". He put the phone away, put his cock into his pants and zipped up. "See you downstairs in a while".
My mind was in turmoil. I was angry for having let Amir have his way, loaded with guilt – I had just committed adultery – and I had had the most intense orgasm in my life. I thought I felt some sort of after quakes of an orgasm. I could definitely feel the stickiness of cum in my slit. I just leant against the wall trying to regain my senses. For the first time in my life I had had sex with someone other than my husband. The thought was just daunting. I looked at myself in the mirror and realised that my top still hung loosely from my neck and I still hadn't taken off all the belly dance stuff, the belt, the ornaments on my head, the wrist and finger chains and the bells around my feet. I got a hold of myself, took the towel that I'd wet earlier and cleaned my pussy. I got dressed, packed my dancing gear in my bag and went back downstairs.
"That was a very great performance" my husband David said, while handing me a glass of wine. "I think your boss really appreciated the attention." I downed the glass of wine in one go, trying to swallow my guilt at the same time. David looked at me quizzically and got me another glass.
"But that Arab guy is a real pig. I don't understand how any of you put up with him at work. While you were dancing he came over to me and asked me if I wasn't upset that you were exposing yourself to your boss and all the men in the room. When I told him that you like to dance and that I was proud of you, he retorted 'Where I come from, the dancers are all whores. They only dance to flaunt their bodies to entice men'. When I reminded him that we live in a modern, civilised society and that dance is a form of art he just laughed and walked away. A couple of minutes ago he came up to me again and said 'Mark my words, dancing girls are really only whores'. I felt like punching him, but I didn't do it."
I didn't feel too well, so I told David that I wanted to go home. He doesn't quite fit in with the crowd that I work with, so he agreed without any protest. We thanked our host and discreetly left the party.
