The Flamenco Dance

I am forever grateful to CIAOSTEVE for his editorial help, he was instrumental to shaping my ramblings into a story I would like to share.

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I am lying in my own comfy bed with my husband next to me looking at a few photos as I fill him in about my two month vacation through Portugal and Spain. If you could see his hardon you would better gauge how exciting the photos are.

The one experience, the one I am telling him about now, stands out vividly. Even now, I can remember every detail of what was the highlight of my trip.

I should make you aware that I am in an open relationship; non-monogamy has been the secret to a happy marriage and Paul, (my husband) loves to hear my stories, especially when I have been naughty.

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It was already the sixth week of travel and my schedule had led me to Granada, a city in Andalusia on the southern part of Spain. Being a seasoned traveler, I had come to the conclusion that if you were fortunate enough to pick the right tour, you learned more and enjoyed more of a city. What's more, with the right contacts, you avoid the queues and hassles at the popular tourist sites.

I had found such an outfit and had spent all day with my group visiting the Alhambra, a fantastic Moorish castle rich in art and architecture. That evening we were heading to a so-called "Night Adventure" that included a Flamenco Dance. It was meant to be a fitting end to a great day. I don't know if you know what I am referring to, but it is a traditional dance of southern Spain.

The performance turned out to be excellent and the dancer really stole the show. He swiveled and turned to the music like a butterfly and contorted like a snake! He wasn't all that tall, perhaps six feet, but he was lithe and sculpted, and moved in the most mmmm, sensual manner. It might have been the combination of the music, the environment or the wine but I found the spectacle very, very erotic. The fact that I had been traveling alone and sexless for six weeks, likely added to the fascination.

Towards the end of the show the tour guide suggested that we each have a photo taken with the dancer. Not about to be left out I climbed onto the stage to pose with him.

I stood next to him, turned and studied him. He was very masculine and he exuded some kind of animal attraction. He smelled like sweat and a faint hint of tobacco, but far from being repelling it played on my animal instincts. As I got near and faced the camera he wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer into himself. In that instant I felt something. It was as if a jolt of electricity had flashed through my body and struck my loins.

Perhaps innocently, or perhaps not so, I leaned over and told him that I found his dancing very exciting, very arousing. With a sly smile, and with a thick sensual heavily accented English he whispered in my ear.

"Would you like for you and me to have a dance in private?

I almost choked. I was not expecting this. I flushed and my knees began shaking. This guy really had an effect on me. I really wasn't sure how to react. I was both surprised and flattered that I had caught his attention.

I nervously looked around me hoping none of my companions had caught the exchange.

It didn't seem to be the case, so now I had to figure out how I was going to manage this proposition.

My rational half told me that it would not be prudent to act on it, but my decision was swayed by a second opinion, the opinion of my nether half. I had gone to the rest room and as I went to pee, I found my panties soaked and my inner thighs wet. It seemed that my naughty side already had made other plans.

It was now or never. I had to make a spur of the moment decision. I gave it a brief thought..... OK, so calling it a thought was probably an exaggeration, but in my mind I had at least tried to give some consideration to my actions and wrote my hotel name and room number on a slip of paper before returning to the theatre. Then I did it. As he was receiving his tips, I slipped the note into his hand.

The venue wasn't far from the hotel, so I decided to walk and mull over the day's events. As I strolled into the lobby I realized I felt scuzzy; after all I had been on the road all day. So my first order of business was to take a long warm tub bath.

I felt I had drunk enough wine, but I did have a joint in my bag which was just too tempting. I took a couple of puffs, ran the tub and settled in. The long day, the wine, the pot, the hot water splashing back and forth between my thighs all merged to put me in a very sensual mood.

But I also felt a bit silly!

"What could I have been thinking?" I thought to myself, as I lay there excusing my actions. I decided to blame it on the wine and my sexual abstinence.

So, there I was, in the tub, laughing to myself about what I had done, wondering if there was such a thing as a Flamenco groupie. Come on, I am way too old for that. Besides I figured, he probably gets all kinds of attention, so it might be unlikely he would take the invitation seriously.

To my surprise, he proved me wrong. About fifteen minutes later I heard a knock on the door. At first I ignored it. I was a bit stoned and I wasn't even sure if it was my door; or perhaps I thought it was my imagination. There it was again . . . "Knock- knock -knock" . . . this time loud and clear.

"Oh my god," I thought, "he's here!"

I jumped out of the shower, barely dried myself and slipped into a fluffy white cotton hotel robe.

I ran to the door, opened it and stood there dumbfounded, still wet, my eye make-up running and with a silly grin on my face. He simply stood there, looking very soave, very like "The world's most elegant man" and even hotter than in his dance attire.

"I am sorry I took this long," he told me in his seductive Latin accent. "I thought I should shower and change into more appropriate clothes."

Without waiting for an invitation he stepped inside. We now stood silently, facing each other with neither making the first move until finally he took my hand in his. I was like his puppet as he led me to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around me.

I lifted my face and sought his lips, soon his tongue slid into my mouth and began to twirl leading jolt running through my body, as our tongues clashed.

He was a good kisser and in my opinion that is an omen of a great lover.

I could feel the stubble of his beard as he began to kiss my cheeks, my neck and moved down to my shoulders.

I shuddered and closed my eyes as I felt him reach for my robe. Powerless to resist, I watched him as he slid the loose garment off my shoulders. My chest, my breasts, my hard nipples were exposed and he got a glimpse of my naked body. With a smile across his tanned face, he slowly peeled down my robe and as it piled at my feet I simply stood there completely exposed, completely at his mercy.

He sat me at the edge of the bed and began to peel his clothes off slowly, maintaining eye contact with me. It was almost like a strip tease but way more elegant. I found myself realizing that he did not have an ounce of fat. He was sculpted, chiseled, muscular and tanned. His hairy chest blended into his perfect torso. It was a combination that never failed to give me butterflies.

He finally got down to his shorts and he grinned as he peeled them down.

I gasped as I saw his magnificent, stiff, throbbing shaft emerge out of that nest of dark hairs. His cock was hard and curved upward towards his navel in a menacing way, the veins stood out, and to my surprise it was uncircumcised.

I was mesmerized, sitting there exposed and vulnerable.

I watched as his eyes moved over my body, taking in my shiny eyes, the blush on my chest, the sheen of sweat on my forehead and lip, my nipples hard and prominent.

There was nothing to be said, it was obvious that my body was ready, ripe and receptive.

We had reached the point of no return. I moved up on the bed and watched as he began to crawl towards me. I was breathing hard, my sex tingling with anticipation, a feeling of dampness once more in my loins. I could feel, and I am convinced he could see, the way my opening was pulsating, inviting him in.

He knelt towards me, with intentions of burying his face between my thighs but I was way past that point. I wanted, or it was more like I needed that cock inside me. I spread my legs and begged him to mount me.

The moment of truth had arrived and with it, the inevitable question of "who brought the condoms" came up, and guess what?

Neither of us had thought of it.

What now?

Exactly what you would expect. Our most basic instincts took over. We were going to mate like animals. As I grasped his cock, I realized my hand would not fit around it. I felt the veins running down the shaft. I squeezed his cock and felt it pulse back. Peeling the foreskin down I was presented with a shiny purplish head and a stream of pre-cum.

I briefly took him between my lips, licked him and tasted him, salty, exhilarating but I was at the point of no return.

Guiding him towards my entrance I rubbed the head between my lips and in two swift strokes he had burrowed easily into my sheath reaching depths seldom probed. I found myself whimpering, pinned to the mattress with my legs around his waist. My hands gripped the sheets, urging him on and meeting his every thrust with one of my own.

The initial passionate fuck soon turned into a slow deep dance. He churned my very core, stretched my folds and explored my deepest recesses. He was like a snake moving in every direction and surprising me with every stroke. He would bring me almost to the edge, then pull out and kneel above me with his cock shiny from my juices, waiting for me to come down, to then impaling me once more.

He was an athlete, a sexual gymnast who soon had me moaning and begging him to allow me to cum, begging for him to cum, begging for both of us to cum, and begging for that final release.

I needed to be filled, to experience that wonderful feeling of warm cum bathing my deepest folds,

Eventually he reached that point. I felt his tempo change and he began a relentless pounding. He grasped my knees, pushed them against my shoulders, aiming my pussy upward and making me even more accessible, as if that was even possible.

When he started to moan, it tripped a wire. My loins were ready to receive him and my walls were milking his shaft.

Then, when I heard him roar and I felt him thrusting fiercely, pumping and grinding mercilessly we exploded simultaneously crying out to the higher deity.

Soon we found ourselves in a state of sweaty post coital bliss, him still inside me as my pussy slowly but thoroughly, milked every drop of semen out of him.

Once recuperated, and the first, fast and furious fuck was over, we began a more gentle game. We talked about our sexual preferences, about what really pushed our buttons, about our likes and dislikes, then proceeding to use our newly acquired knowledge to kiss, suck, lick and touch each other into another state of readiness.

I needed to overcome my curiosity about his cock so I took him in my hand, I knelt between his thighs. Licked his balls and his shaft on route to explore his uncircumcised head. I enjoyed the texture, the taste, his feral smell. I peeled back the foreskin to expose that gorgeous engorged shiny head still covered with our combined juices. It was way too tempting and I eagerly devoured him. I kissed, licked, blew air on his cockhead and was rewarded each time with a twitch. He tasted good, or should I say we tasted good, and he made a remarkable comeback. Again he mounted me, took me over the edge and unloaded inside me twice more that evening.

By morning, and as he was preparing to leave, I realized that I felt satiated, satisfied, swollen, pleasantly sore and with enough sperm in my womb to last through the rest of my trip. Or so I thought, because he suddenly tossed me over the arm of the sofa with my face in the cushion and my ass in the air. Without any preamble he plunged into me, over and over, while I responded like a bitch in heat until he gifted me with another satisfying load of cum.

As I lay there, with gaping lips and a stream of cum seeping out, I thought about how much my husband would have liked to share this moment, so I asked him,

"Could you take a photo of me to so I may relive your visit?"

"Don't move," he ordered, and captured several pictures of my trashed pussy and then a photo of his gleaming cock.

"Send these to your husband and thank him!" he said. "He is lucky to have a woman like you,"

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Not only I did, but here we are enjoying them once more as I tell him the story for the umpteenth time.