Dance Class
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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“Great effort everyone. We have the steps down and now it is about getting the rhythm,” I said to my dance class. It had been a tough year and I was finally finding my feet. I was beginning to see glimpses of light at the end of the dark tunnel.
“Thank you, Miss Saanvi,” they said in unison as they made their way out.
12 months ago my divorce was finalized at the age of 38. After almost 20 years of marriage I had become somewhat dependent on my husband. I had worked as a dancer before I was married but after marriage I was a kept woman and depended on my husband for an income. I liked to dance as a hobby but I never really needed to work again.
The problem was that I received our large stately family home in the divorce. It sounds like a rich people problem but I had no real income. Our kids were over 18 and it was always our plan that the boys would study in America once they turned 18 so they lived with my husband in America. It was ordered that my husband only had to make minimal payments for 2 years to allow me to gain employment and an income of my own. My husband was vindictive and cruel, he waited until the kids were 18 to begin the divorce as it would mean he was no longer paying their maintenance to me. He also began hiding his assets long before he filed for divorce. We had been living separate lives for the past 5 years as he moved to America for work. My husband had always paid our bills but I was now behind on payments on most bills. Most of our exclusive memberships were cancelled and I was struggling. It was difficult for me to maintain the lifestyle I had while I was married and it was inevitable I would need to sell the house and downsize eventually.
We lived in an affluent part of town and it allowed me to charge a premium for the classes. I only took on couples as I found this meant they were motivated and regular attendees. I also felt uncomfortable with the idea of single men joining the class as it would make it uncomfortable for any women attending.
At the moment I had 5 regular couples and they were keeping the lights on in my house. I wanted to build this business to the point I could rely on it as an income stream before the payments from my husband stopped. I was building relationships and a reputation for myself in the community.
“Hello, is this the Saanvi dance school?” Asked the young woman on the other end of the phone.
“Yes. You are talking to Miss Saanvi,” I replied. I had an exclusive clientele so it was rare to get calls inquiring about places on the class. I had wanted to expand and make the classes a sustainable income stream so I was always open to new inquiries.
“I am calling on behalf of Mr Shah. You have been recommended to him by a friend and he is interested in taking up the dance classes in preparation for a ball he will be attending. He is only free on Thursday evenings,” She had this quick motoring way of speaking.
“I have a slot on Thursday evening at 7.00pm?” I replied. My whole Thursday was free but I liked to make it sound like I was busy.
“Yes, that will be fine,” she replied.
On the evening of the session Mr Shah turned up at my home in his Rolls Royce. This was a man that wanted to make an impression on people.
He was short, maybe 5’6″ at a push, sporting a rotund belly. He looked to be at least 60. The driver opened the door for him and he stepped out. I glanced inside the car but no one else was there. Where was Mrs Shah? I wondered.
“You must be Saanvi, I was introduced to your husband at the country club some years back,” he said introducing himself. I lost that membership when my income dried up and this was an unpleasant reminder that I no longer had the perks that came with being a resident in this community.
“My ex-husband. Will Mrs Shah be joining us?” In this affluent neighborhood everyone knew everyone but I knew precious little of Mr Shah. He was never really someone I came across in these circles.
“There is no Mrs Shah. I am due to attend an important event with the Duke of Suffershire in merry old England and I need to learn some basic steps should I be called upon to dance,” he said.
“When I received the call I had assumed it was being booked as a couple. I only take on couples at the moment. I find it easier to manage,” I said.
“You come highly recommended by Aditya. I understand him and his wife are regulars. It is the only reason I am here. I value the word of friends. Do you really want me to tell Aditya that you were not welcoming? Lets just get down to it. I will pay you double. So you are not missing out by not having a couple,” he said. He had an arrogance about him and it made me flustered. Could I risk damage to my reputation?
“There will be no need. It is not about the money. You can pay me whatever you like. I am happy to help you for Aditya and Bhavna. After all I also value friends,” I said with a smile to put any tension at ease. It was important to build my name and I shouldn’t be turning down recommendations.
I led him through to the former dining hall Demetevler escort that I had turned into a dance studio.
He was wearing a suit and tie with shoes. It was rather inappropriate for a physically active exercise but he looked smart.
“I think it would be better for you to remove your shoes. I always recommend active wear or gym wear for dance practice in future,” I suggested.
I was wearing yoga pants, sports bra and a loose t-shirt hanging over.
“For a man, yes. I will want our final session to be with a tuxedo to ensure I am still able to perform the steps in the same way. But I want you to wear something that I will likely see adorned by the female I am dancing with. I want to create a sense of the evening in my mind as we practice. An appropriate dress or ballroom gown but for our first session today what you are wearing is fine,” he said. I was taken back by his forthright manner. He was exuding ego and arrogance. Who was he to tell me what to wear? But I was reminded not to upset my small circle of clients.
“I understand your point of view,” I reply biting my tongue to calm my own anger at his attitude. I try to be non-committal in my reply.
He removes his blazer jacket and tie and kicks off his shoes. I show him a few light stretches and then I guide him on how to position his feet and where his hands need to be.
“The man must always lead. One step back,” I said as he complied. His hand was resting on my hip and the other was holding my hand to the side.
His hand would slide to my ass from time to time and I would move it back up. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions as he was new to dancing so I simply guided his hand back to my hip when it slid to my ass. It took some time for men to get their structure right when dancing.
“Step to the right, very good,” I say as he follows my directions. He is able to follow my next few steps and he seems a natural. These are just basic slow steps as I try to figure out how challenging I should make it.
“You are really good, now repeat the steps,” I say as I decide to test him.
On one of the steps instead of going back he moves forward. I step into him and his thigh is rubbing between my legs. His hand has slid to my ass once more but this time he gropes it firmly. I can feel his hard cock pressed against the inside of my thigh. His other hand had left mine and he was groping my breast as he held me up pressed against him.
“Uff,” I moan as I feel the contact. I rest against him for a brief moment due to the exertion.
There was always something romantic about ballroom dancing and it had been sometime since I had been this close to a man. I pull apart and try to regain my composure. My breathing was a little heavy.
“You were doing really well and maybe I will guide you with the steps some more,” I said all flustered. We practiced some more after I composed myself.
It had been 30 minutes and we had worked up a sweat. He looked uncomfortable in his clothes as I called for a break. My mind was drifting off at times as we danced with his brief touches. It had been at least 5 years since I was last intimate with my husband and the close intimate dancing was making me think about such things.
He unbuttoned a few more buttons on his shirt as I got some bottles of water. It made me sigh as I saw more of his body.
“Who will you be taking with you to the ball?” I asked. I was trying to make small talk but I was also curious about learning more about him.
“My plus one is still vacant but I liked to be prepared for all eventualities. Also, I am sorry for my blunder about your husband. It is difficult to keep up with all the neighborhood gossip,” he said. Did he just admit to an error? Perhaps there was some humility underneath that ego.
“I was never one for gossip either. Who knows who is sleeping with who these days,” I say trying to pass it off lightheartedly but I can’t help but let my eyes rest on him as I mention the idea of illicit affairs.
We returned to the dancing and I guided him through the next steps. His hand would repeatedly slide down to grope my ass and in the end I gave up on moving it back up. I felt him squeeze and grope my ass a few times but I didn’t object as I continued the simple steps.
As I felt him touch my body, my mind began to drift off thinking about horny things that I should not be thinking about during class. My mind was so distracted that our bodies came together once more.
“Uff! Uh!” I moaned this time as I grinded against his thigh and bulge. As we parted I brushed the outside of my hand against his crotch to feel his bulge in an innocuous manner.
After our session ended we exchanged pleasantries as he left. After he had left I finally felt able to relax. There was something about him that really unnerved me and I was unable to stop thinking about the session.
In the night, I tossed and turned in bed as I thought about his sense of entitlement and groping of my body. These things briefly happen sometimes when dancing Dikimevi escort but he was forthright and unapologetic. My body was hot and bothered as I discarded clothes to cool myself down but nothing alleviated the heat.
My vagina was throbbing and my lips were engorged. It was an instinctual movement as my fingers began to explore my wet folds. Why was my body in such heat?
Men never usually behaved in such a forthright sexual manner with me and it was surprising to see this from an ugly older man.
My mind went back to the dance class and I wondered what would happen if I let him get away with much more. I imagined dancing for him naked as he watched me.
My body was trembling with excitement and it was not often I felt this way in the last few years of a frustrating marriage. My finger delved into my wet and inviting vagina as I began to slowly finger myself.
“Uff! Oh!” I moaned as I felt a sexual relief through my body.
There was an impatience as I began to finger myself harder and rougher to climax. My other hand clutched my breast and squeezed it the way he had during his grope.
“Uh! Uh! Uh! Mr Shah!” I moaned as my body quivered and convulsed to an orgasm.
The next day his payment came through and he had paid enough to cover the 4 weeks sessions. At least I would not need to chase him for any invoices.
A few days later I scheduled a brunch with Aditya’s wife, Bhavna. She was always this bubbly character and I really liked her.
We caught up in general and she had a lot of gossip about the other members of the class and our friends circle in general.
“On the topic of mutual friends, Aditya recommended a friend for some dance classes,” I asked trying to be nonchalant.
“Oh god. Kabir Shah. Or as he likes to be called, Mr Shah, to new acquaintances. I told Aditya to keep him away from you,” she said ominously.
“Why?” I asked curiously.
“Yaar, you really stay out of the gossip. He was around before your time really. Mr Shah is successful. Very successful in fact but he sells S-E-X toys, lingerie etc for a living. 10 years ago, him and his wife were active on the social scene but overnight she just disappeared. She just stopped attending events and no one ever saw her again. Then he began announcing he was single.”
“Are you saying she was?” I asked, wide eyed.
All of a sudden Bhavna began cackling with laughter.
“You really do believe anything. I don’t know the exact truth. Maybe they just divorced and she moved away to Europe with her millions but it was just strange how one day she was there and then she disappeared. With any mystery there will always be rumors and no one disappears without a reason,” she said.
“Oh my god, Bhavna. You can spin a story,” I said while laughing.
“But seriously, I would stand my ground with him as he has a tendency to be overpowering. I really didn’t want Aditya giving him your number,” she said again causing me to think twice about our interactions.
As the next session approached with Mr Shah, I thought I would heed Bhavna’s advice and stand my ground.
Instead of wearing a dress or gown, I wore my usual fitness attire. I was going to stand my ground and not let a man tell me what to wear. My husband never had the gall to tell me what to wear and I was not going to let a dance student to do so.
Mr Shah turned up in his business suit but he had a gym bag with him. He was surprised to see me in my usual t-shirt, sports bra and yoga pants.
I pointed out a spare room where he could get changed.
Mr Shah joined me in the makeshift dance studio once he had changed into some shorts and a t-shirt and he was surprised that I had still not changed.
He came up close to me and uncomfortably in my personal space.
I swallowed as he began to walk around to my back, his fingers lightly grazing my body.
“I choose…” I began to speak and wanted to say ‘I choose what I wear’ when all of a sudden I felt him pull on the waistband of my sports bra from the back and let it snap back stinging me. It was not painful but the sting was sharp enough to shock me into silence.
“We have already spoken on this and I will not repeat myself. Change into something appropriate as I instructed. I do not have time to waste,” he said commandingly.
For all that talk of standing my ground, I felt compelled to obey him. I took a deep breath and I walked to my bedroom to find an appropriate dress. I stood before my walk in cupboard a little short of breath. I didn’t want to admit it but there was a moistness creeping on to my panties. Did I enjoy being spoken to in this way? No one had ever spoken to me in that way before. That voice telling me to speak up for myself was being silenced.
I had a long red dress that I had worn in the past. It was a little snug as it had been some years since I wore it. It was low cut from the top and my breasts were tightly packed in. It was strapless and looked elegant. I was not wearing a bra and I picked out some high heels that had Dikmen escort a 4 inch heel which would mean I would dwarf him. It was my resistance to him by wearing something that emphasized his lack of height.
I returned to the see him waiting there expectantly. He looked at his watch as a sign that I was wasting his time. He could have given a small compliment but his ego wouldn’t let him. Why did I want a compliment from this asshole?
Similar to the previous week I guided him through the steps. He was less subtle about his groping this time but I still tried to move his hand to my waist when I felt him grab my ass. By the 10th time, I was becoming frustrated. I was feeling hot and bothered and his constant gropes were beginning to push my limits so I decided to follow Bhavna’s advice. That voice telling me to stand up for myself was getting louder.
I stopped in a frustrated manner and gave him an exasperated look.
“Keep your hand on my waist,” I said adamantly.
“That is my intention but I am a beginner to this. Surely an esteemed instructor like yourself must understand,” he replied in a rather innocent manner when both of us knew that his actions were deliberate.
We began once more and he seemed to be keeping his hand disciplined on my hip. As we continued on our second run of the dance his hand return to my ass and I sighed in resignation. There was no fighting this man. This time I did not bother to move his hand back as it was not long until the session ended.
As he groped my ass, my dress was being pulled down due to the tight grip he had on my dress. To my shock, my breasts popped out of the dress and bounced before his hungry eyes. I had dark brown nipples against my light skin. I quickly moved away and covered my breasts with my arm as I pulled the dress up and re-set it.
“Imagine if this happened on the night, I would be mortified,” he said.
I looked at him with disdain as I was feeling mortified right now.
I was out of breath as I set my dress. No man had seen my body in several years. I had an active lifestyle and kept fit but I was not ready to reveal my body to a man. After I set the dress and felt comfortable, I returned to complete the session.
The session only had a few minutes left and I did not think much else could happen. As we returned to our positions, his hand quickly dropped to my ass and squeezed firmly. There were only a few minutes left and then the session would be over.
His fingers were not content to simply grope and squeeze my ass. They began to delve between my cheeks. I liked to wear thongs and his fingers were pushing the fabric of my dress in between my cheeks. I tried to push him away but due to his tight grip on my ass it ended up pulling me into him and our bodies came together.
I tried to speak and protest but before I could his lips were on mine and his tongue was down my throat. I was shocked and stiff initially as his tongue explored my mouth. I didn’t know if it was instinct or the shock of it but I felt my own tongue wrap around his. My hips began to grind against him as my hot and moist vagina made contact with his bulging cock.
“Uhmph!” I moaned into his mouth. It had been too long since I had been in such an embrace with a man. Both of his hands reached behind me and firmly groped my ass and I grinded harder against him. He then pulled my dress down to my waist with a firm tug exposing my breasts once more. He pulled his own shorts down quickly and exposed his bulging cock which was now pressing against my engorged vagina lips through my dress.
He finally let go of my ass cheeks and firmly groped my breasts squeezing them like they were a pair of ripe mangos. My breasts were getting the first signs of sag but they were still in good shape.
I was humping back against his thrusts and grinding against him. My own orgasm was building as my hands were no longer fighting him but around his body.
“Uh! Uh!” I moaned into his mouth as he roughly humped me and squeezed my breasts.
He began to tease my nipples and rolled them between his thumb and index finger. My thick nipples were being tormented as we both humped ourselves to an orgasm.
It finally came as he twisted my nipples causing me to moan into his mouth in ecstasy as his cock shot cum all over my dress.
My body was limp and tired after my first orgasm at the hands of a man in many years. No matter how much I may have masturbated, with toys or hands, it always felt different when a man made you climax.
After a few minutes of recovery I finally mustered the strength to fix my dress. He had a smug look on his face and I forgot my polite nature for a moment. I slapped him hard as a lot of anger I had held against my husband came to the surface.
“What right do you think you have to kiss a woman without permission?” I said angrily.
“I kissed you? You are now playing tricks on me. You come down wearing slutty red high heels, you leave your bra off so I can see your fat stiff nipples poking through the dress, the fat pokies, you know the dress is ill fitting and then you deliberately expose your breasts to me. Then finally, you pulled my body into yours and kissed me. You wanted to seduce me,” he said in arrogant manner. I covered my breasts with my arm as I heard him describe my nipples
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32