The Dance

Being the only male in a group of beautiful women wearing tights should be heaven. It isn't.
I play piano for a dance troupe. My hands know the music by heart, so there's no need to look down. Instead, I watch the group dance. It's pure torture, of course. None of them ever notice me. I'm just background noise, filling up the air until the rehearsal ends and their boyfriends come and steal them from me. I guess I'm lucky to be in the same room, but it's like drowning with land in sight. I can see what I want, imagine myself there, but I know in my heart of hearts it's hopeless.
The rehearsal ends, and the girls gather up their things. No one says anything to me as they head out of the studio. Why would they?
But you linger a little. You seem distracted, a little sad. Your cell phone rings, and you have to rustle around in your gym bag to find it. I'm not trying to listen, but I know who you're talking to. It's your boyfriend, a guy ten years younger than I with washboard abs and the intellectual depth of an eggplant. I've seen him pick you up many times, always in a hurry, never early enough to watch you dance. He sickens me.
I can tell by the phone call that he is being his usual self. You are arguing about something.... no, you are apparently *continuing* the argument you've been having about something. He's angry that you don't trust him and you are reminding him of the things he has done to forsake your trust. I'm hardly a ladies man, but I've been around long enough to know that this is an argument he cannot win. Johnny Cochran couldn't win that argument.
You hang up on him. It's not as satisfying as slamming down the receiver, but the beep when you terminate the call is Mozart to me.
You turn and notice I'm still here. I look down, shuffling through my sheet music.
"Could you give me a ride?" you ask.
I know I'm the only person left, but I look around to make sure you're actually talking to me.
"My ride bailed on me," you say grimly.
"Uh.... " I stammer like an idiot. "Sure. I'd be happy to."
"Thanks," you say, gathering up your bag. I try to get my music organized, but my fingers aren't cooperating. You are so close to me, leaning on the piano. In my oğuzeli escort mind, you are reclining on a beautiful grand piano, shiny and black, even though this is a cheap upright.
"Not a problem," I say, silently cursing the uncooperative papers.
"Why are guys such assholes?" you ask. I'm not sure whether that's a rhetorical question. I look in your eyes and see that you actually want an answer.
"Guys aren't assholes," I say. "The meatheads you date are assholes." I know I shouldn't have said it, but I'm glad I did.
"They all are," you say. "I might as well go out with a hot one."
"There's your problem," I counter. "The hot ones feel entitled to you. They know they can get the girls, so you should feel privileged that they're with you. If you went out with a regular guy, he'd treat you like a queen."
"Yeah," you say, wincing a little at the thought of dating an average schmuck, "but those are the guys that kiss your ass all the time."
"Maybe so," I'm on quite the roll. "But those are the ones you can work with."
You laugh a little. "True."
I play a little vaudville tune to lighten the mood. To my surprise, you come around the piano and stand next to me. My fingers freeze.
"Oh, go on," you say. "Play something."
I have played in front of thousands of people, but I have never been more nervous. There is a song I've been working on during those late nights, heard only by the late night custodial staff as they ran the dry mop across the studio floor. I start to play, trying to forget that you are easily within arm's reach.
Thankfully, my hands know what they're doing. I get all the way through the song with no clinkers. As the last crescendo fades, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do next.
"That's very pretty," you say.
I feel my face growing hot. I close the piano and turn to scoot off the bench. To my surprise, you haven't backed away. I can't get off the bench without touching you, and I don't think that's exactly what you want.
But you won't leave. I look up at you expectantly. Are you going to move, or what?
You smile down on me. I can't tell if you're being kind, or laughing at my awkwardness. You lean down and kiss my forehead. I'm sure I'm crimson at this point. If I look down, it'll be like I'm staring at your legs, which is not something I'm opposed to, but I don't want you to know I'm doing it.
You direct my head to look at you with a confident touch of your finger. I look in your eyes for some sign that you are teasing me. There is no way that I'm reading this situation right.
Then, you lean down and kiss me.
I'm not sure which of my senses is having the biggest reaction. The softness of your lips is taking my breath away. Your fingers on my face feel electric. I can taste the warmth of your mouth on mine.
Still seated on the bench, I wrap my arms around your waist and draw you to me. I nuzzle my face against the your tummy. You rest your head atop mine, and I listen to your heart beat. It's intoxicating.
You melt into me a little, straddling me as I toss the sheet music to the floor. It flies in a hundred directions, but I could not possibly care less. Feeling bold, I move my hands down your back and rub my hands over the smooth globes of your ass. I feel the muscles in your thighs tighten as I dig my fingers in, giving you a little pain and pleasure at the same time.
I savor the feeling of your flesh in my hands as I rub my mouth over your half shirt. Your breath grows a little shallow and my lips tease your nipples over the fabric. When your back arches, I move my mouth down to kiss your exposed belly. It tastes so good. I hold you still as I lick circles around your tummy, kissing your belly button and nibbling your hips. My cock is growing rock hard, and you can feel it through our clothes.
My fingers run along your ribcage as I sneak the half shirt off over your head. I breathe warm air on your left nipple while I stroke the right with my fingers. With your hands in my hair, you guide my mouth to your erect nipples, and I take in the taste. I love the feeling of your nipples under my tongue, their firmness in my mouth. I occasionally lick the underside of your breasts, revelling in the vulnerability you are showing me.
You shove your hand between our bodies and find my cock. You rub it through my clothes, and it throbs.
I tug at your tights, peeling the fabric from your curves. As I pull the remaining parts from your feet, I delicately kiss your toes. You start to pull down your panties, and I gently but firmly move your hand away. Standing you before me, I pull your panties to the right, exposing your pussy as the fabric digs into you.
I playfully poke the tip of my tongue between your legs. You shudder and move your hips. I nuzzle your pussy gently before flicking my tongue against your lips. Your legs part involuntarily as I work my mouth between your legs.
You gasp and grab my shoulders as my tongue enters you. I love the taste. I love the warmth. I love the way your body responds as I work my tongue along the contours of your pussy. You writhe and moan as I plunge my tongue deep inside of you. I'm fucking you with my tongue, and you love it. You grow wetter by the moment as my tongue dances inside you.
Finally, you are unable to take it any longer. You fumble at my pants for a moment and my cock springs free. You brace yourself against my shoulders as you lower yourself on me. Because your panties were only pulled to the side, you feel the roughness of the fabric as part of them gets pulled inside you along with my cock.
You gasp a little as you get used to the feeling of rough fabric in your pussy, along with my hard, hot cock. You work your hips against me, slowly at first. Then, you get wet enough to accomodate, and you bounce yourself up and down on my cock.
I wrap my hands around your hips and play with your breasts. As I lick your breasts, you feel the residue of your pussy juices on your nipples, and that turns you on. I playfully bite and kiss your nipples as you grind your hips against mine, filling you up with my cock.
My muscles grow tense, and I know I'm about to come. I wrap my hands around your waist, burying my head into your breasts as I shoot straight up inside of you. This makes you quiver, and you feel waves of pleasure go through you. You feel the strength leaving your legs, but you find it in you to fuck me hard as you come.
You collapse into me. I hold you up, my cock still pulsing inside of you. We both cry out a little as I reluctantly pull out of you. I hold you closely as I make the pain of another guy go away. He'll probably have you back tomorrow.
But tonight, you were mine, and my dreams came true.