("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
                     `6_ 6  )   `-.  (     ).`-.__.`)
                     (_Y_.)'  ._   )  `._ `. ``-..-'
                    _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
                   ((('   (((-(((''  ((((
               K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
	      _________________________________________
		             WARNING!
	      This text file contains sexually explicit
	      material. If you do not wish to read this
	      type of literature, or you are under age,
	      PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
	      _________________________________________



     	             Scroll down to view text














--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 BitSlinger. All rights reserved. The 
owner of this copyright grants unlimited not-for-profit 
redistribution of this work provided that this entire 
copyright notice remain intact.
--------------------------------------------------------

Dance of the Worm
by Digital Man (bitslinger@hotmail.com)

***

A clumsy man learns how to dance and then learns all 
about the advantages that dancing brings with it. (MF, 
affair)

***

CHAPTER 1

Two left feet. No, that would be kind. I was clearly 
just a man who, in spite of a few years of playing 
guitar, had no sense of timing or rhythm. What was so 
damned difficult about learning to two step? It 
certainly looked simple enough.

My impromptu "tutor", a 50ish man who had no doubt 
taken pity on the petite woman struggling with my 
hulking 6 foot 2 form, shrugged his shoulders and went 
back to dancing gracefully with his partner. I thanked 
him for his help, and marveled at the way they glided 
away. They had a certain elegant communication between 
them, undoubtedly the result of many years spent 
dancing together.

I had determination and persistence. That must be worth 
something. Two or three songs of pure chaos later, we 
were given a reprieve in the form of a slow song. Slow 
songs were made for rubbing bodies together, not fancy 
footwork. I quickly settled into a position that gave 
me the most contact with my date's body. A few 
delightful minutes later she was leading me off of the 
dance floor and back to our table.

I wanted to learn to dance for two reasons. The first 
was that it looked like genuine fun for everyone 
involved. The second reason was firmly based in some 
hormonal abstract logic. Dancing always seemed to 
kindle a romantic fire in women. Most of the ladies 
that I had seen dancing in the clubs were always 
smiling and flirting with their partners. It seemed 
logical that this sort of romantic play would most 
certainly lead to more romantic play at the end of a 
date. Selfish, I know, but it's the truth.

Some dates drag mercilessly on through the night. You 
can just feel that somehow you're not connecting. This 
was one of those dates. My date was gorgeous and had a 
body that gave me a fever. I knew that tonight wasn't 
going to end between her sheets, which made the 
cleavage showing beneath her black sweater even more 
tantalizing. 

We sat quietly nursing our drinks for a while, watching 
other people move across the floor, complete with fancy 
turns. I watched feet mostly. There must have been 
something obvious in the steps that I was missing. My 
date was polite, and didn't look at her watch even once 
as the night crawled on. We made small talk, pointing 
out which couples looked like they had been together 
for ages.

After a few drinks I was feeling pretty mellow, and 
started stealing glances at the way my date's legs 
disappeared into her skirt. The barstool was too high 
for her. Her dangling legs had pushed her skirt up 
enough to tease me with a captivating view of her 
thighs. The beige of her panty hose contrasted nicely 
with the denim of her skirt. The V where her legs came 
together in the shadow of her skirt was dark and 
enticing.

A hand blurred across my vision. Her gesture broke a 
gaze that had been lost in the mysterious shadow 
between her legs, and she knew it. I was embarrassed 
and made a lame apology. She smiled and asked me if I 
would like to dance again before taking her home. A 
slow song was playing. I knew before we stood up that 
there was no way she could miss the lump in my pants if 
we danced the way we had earlier. A thought brushed the 
edge of my alcohol induced groove that this might be a 
problem, but it was quickly pushed aside by the thought 
of how her body had felt during our previous slow 
dance.

I was a little buzzed, but far from too drunk to notice 
the unsteady way that she moved into my arms. She 
giggled as she pressed against me. She played with the 
buttons on my shirt as she swayed against my erection. 
The way that her tits drew the rough material of her 
sweater across my shirt was electric. The song ended 
much too soon. She giggled and winked as she told me 
that it was time to 'take her to bed'. She finished the 
last swallow of her drink before we left for her place.

A few drinks ago I was certain that I would be sleeping 
alone tonight, and now she had warmed up considerably. 
The slur in her voice and the alcohol on her breath as 
I kissed her at her door told me that she might regret 
this in the morning. Don't get me wrong; Deep down I'm 
just as much of an asshole as the next guy. One or two 
drinks more would have silenced my conscience. As it 
was, I liked this woman. It took a serious effort on my 
part to end the evening with the ubiquitous "I had a 
good time" and a nice kiss, but nothing more.

My reward was a lovely phone call the next day thanking 
me for not taking advantage of her, along with a polite 
declining at the suggestion of another date.


CHAPTER 2 


A few days later I was invited to a birthday party at a 
country and western bar. I knew most of the people who 
would be there, and figured someone would teach me how 
to dance. It was a week night and the club was almost 
empty. Most of the people there were either married or 
otherwise attached, but my luck held and a friend's 
wife was happy to teach me how to dance. I had some 
success, and at one point mentioned that it would be 
great if there was some way to get practice without 
subjecting a date to bruised feet.

"The bar gives free two step lessons on Tuesday nights. 
You don't need a partner. There's usually some older 
ladies there who need a partner", my Good Samaritan 
said as we walked back to the table.

What a great idea! I didn't care how old my dancing 
partner was, as long as she put up with my klutziness. 
The very next Tuesday, I was at the bar with great 
expectations. The instructor called all of the couples 
onto the floor, and then asked for the single people in 
the group. I was paired up with Sandy, an older woman 
who seemed a little timid at first. Older is, of 
course, a relative term. She was a mere 37 to my 25, 
but that was older than any woman I had previously had 
the pleasure of being intimate with.

"I hope you don't mind, but I don't know how to dance", 
Sandy said in a mousy voice.

"That's why this is beginners night". I had hoped that 
I would find someone who was a little less of a 
beginner than I was, but Sandy was nicely shaped and 
very pretty. I could think of worse ways to spend a 
Tuesday night.

"The first thing that you ladies need to know," the 
instructor announced, "is that it's nearly impossible 
to do this if your arms are like wet dishrags. Keep 
them stiff, and you'll automatically go where your 
partner goes." This drew a chuckle from the crowd. 
Well, maybe my last date was a little to blame for my 
ineptitude after all. As it turned out, the instructor 
gave great directions and went through very exaggerated 
steps with his partner. Suddenly the two step didn't 
seem nearly so difficult.

Sandy must have been in space for this "first 
instruction" because her arms were like noodles as we 
began to move around the floor in our first practice 
song. "Ow!" Her eyes lit up in startled amazement as I 
turned her arm behind her back and pulled it gently up 
in the 'uncle' position.

"If your arms weren't like wet dishrags, your whole 
body would've turned and I wouldn't have you where I 
want you," I teased, and after a brief pause corrected 
myself, "Umm you'd move where I want you to."

Sandy giggled uncontrollably for a minute. We had 
broken the ice. 

At the end of the evening we agreed that we danced 
pretty well together, and decided to meet again next 
week.


CHAPTER 3


The next Tuesday when I arrived at the bar, Sandy and 
her group of her friends were already there. I went to 
say hi.

"Get a room, you two." The sharp laughter from across 
the table momentarily drew everyone's attention. Fran 
was sitting on Dave's lap, kissing him with undisguised 
passion. His hands were roaming over her ass, hers 
holding his face. "I swear, Dave, you two always look 
like you're joined at the lips. Your hands are going to 
wear a hole in her jeans. You could at least wait until 
after the lesson." 

Dave broke from Fran's kisses momentarily. "You're just 
jealous because you don't have a man to get you all wet 
before lessons." 

Paula took his rude remark in stride. "Well, yeah, 
there is that."

Sandy met me with an embarrassed smile. We made 
Smalltalk and went to the floor with the couples. The 
instructor began with his 'wet dishrag' speech. It 
didn't seem as funny the second time around.

The first two weeks some of Sandy's friends from work 
came for lessons. She liked the easy social atmosphere. 
We clustered together in a group during breaks and 
after lessons. Once we got beyond the standard 
pleasantries and chitchat of the first couple of weeks 
we developed a genuine friendship. I learned that she 
was divorced and had two boys, 17 and 20 years old. She 
had spent 20 years putting them first and now they were 
old enough to be on their own. She was ready to spend 
her time and energy on herself.

Sandy's friends had other commitments and one week we 
found that were a group of two. The instructor's witty 
'dishrag speech' had grown old, but both our skill and 
our friendship seemed to grow a little bit more each 
week. Dance lessons would end reasonably early, but 
they were at the end of a work day. After Sandy's 
friends stopped coming, I would walk her to her car and 
then go get something to eat before heading home. It 
was late December, and where we live that means some 
nights are bearable but most are too cold to stand 
outside long.

On a night that was just too cold to be tolerable we 
weren't finished talking when we reached Sandy's car, 
and she suggested talking in her car. We were sitting 
and talking when she leaned over and gave me a nice 
kiss.

"I had an impulse and went with it," Sandy said with a 
shy smile.

I was a taken off guard. I knew that Sandy was 
attractive, but I hadn't really considered anything 
happening romantically between us. "I like your 
impulses."

Sandy smiled. It wasn't a wicked smile or a sexy smile; 
it was just a happy smile. Her smile made me feel like 
that I would enjoy getting to know her better.

We talked for a little while longer and during the 
first 'uncomfortable silence' I returned her kiss. We 
couldn't get close enough for an embrace. In a little 
Datsun with bucket seats, a six foot man doesn't have 
much room to cuddle up. We just awkwardly leaned 
towards each other. Our kisses weren't hot and 
passionate; they were very light, playful, and 
exciting. Things were simply different with a woman 
that I wasn't trying to seduce.

"You're fun to kiss." I thought the little compliment 
filled the momentary silence nicely. Kissing this woman 
was a sensual experience. She was enticing. Exciting. 
Sandy had a wonderful way of moving her whole body when 
she kissed. She never turned her head without 
accentuating the movement with the rest of her body. 
She combined that with a smile between kisses. It was 
delightful to kiss a woman who was enjoying the moment.

She ran her tongue over my lips, sometimes sliding 
between my lips only to quickly pull back and sometimes 
letting her tongue play with mine. Her whole body would 
move with each new kiss. Eventually the playful kisses 
turned more passionate. I took a kissing tour of her 
cheek, nibbled her neck and earlobe, and ran my tongue 
along her ear. Sandy kissed my cheek and brought my 
roaming mouth back home to her lips. She began to 
breath quicker with her kisses. Her kisses became 
satiny as her breath mixed audibly with each hungry, 
wet, probing kiss.

She let out a slow breath that had the most exciting 
marbling of sexual desire in it and broke our kiss with 
a barely audible moan. The look on her face was 
indecision, her voice shy and trembling. "If we're 
going to kiss like this I'm not going to be able to 
decide if I should stop."

The words seemed odd, not quite belonging together in a 
sentence. I wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt 
compelled to say something to make her feel 
comfortable. "Any time you want to stop is okay with 
me."

Her pause was brief, but the moment seemed to last for 
hours as I tried to read her face. She looked me in the 
eye and spoke slowly, the choice of each word an 
obvious effort. "I mean that if I get any more turned 
on I won't be able to decide to stop. God, I'm so hot 
and horny right now."

I had no idea how to take that. I was flattered that I 
could get her so hot and bothered, but I had never even 
imagined that this timid woman could be so overcome by 
sexual excitement that she would do something that she 
wouldn't otherwise do. Should I seduce her? I knew from 
her breathing and the flush of her face that she was 
mine if I wanted her.

The problem with getting to know a woman before trying 
to get into her pants is that once you begin to respect 
her, your primal instinct to fuck her senseless gets 
fuzzy. Suddenly it becomes more important to do the 
right thing than to do the wild thing. It had left me 
high and dry on my last date.

"You know, we see each other every week. If you need to 
cool off and see how you feel, I'm okay with that."

"Okay." The effort of composing herself was in her 
voice. She seemed distracted as we started to say our 
good nights. She paused. The distant look on her face 
melted into a determined smile. "I don't want to say 
good night yet. Mmmm. I love sex. I haven't had sex in 
such a long time. I miss the excitement."

I wasn't sure if I was just hearing what I wanted to 
hear. She hadn't exactly said, 'fuck me'. "I'd love to 
have sex with you". This was quite possibly one of the 
strangest conversations that I've ever had with a 
woman.

She smiled and perked up in a giddy pose. "Good. Then 
lets have sex!" Make that definitely one of the 
strangest.


CHAPTER 4


Sandy made it clear that she was ready right then and 
there. Unfortunately, neither of us lived very close to 
the club. Sandy made it clear that sex in the parking 
lot was out of the question, but she didn't want to 
drive very far. We found a little park with a good view 
of the city not far from the club. As small as it was, 
the back seat of the car was larger than the front so 
we moved there as soon as Sandy parked the car.

There wasn't any urgency in the way she moved. "Let's 
see now, where were we? Oh yes..." She seemed intent on 
enjoying the moment and started to gently kiss me 
again.

I was delighted by her kisses and was absent mindedly 
enjoying the feel of her silk shirt as I ran my hands 
over her body. I made mental pictures as I was 
caressing her. I closed my eyes as I felt the lines of 
her bra strap. A sensual picture of shoulder blades 
curving without the garish intrusion of its shape 
formed in my head. 

The wandering fingers of my other hand brushed the 
seams and buttons of her blouse, pressing lightly 
through the silk, feeling the soft resistance of her 
tummy above her jeans. The curve of her back in my mind 
pooled into the curve of her abdomen and the dimple of 
a belly button. My fingers slid just slightly into the 
waistband to feel the elastic of her panties. Her body 
first tensed, then relaxed. The moment of indecision 
was brief; she moved her hand to the buckle of her 
belt.

"You make me feel good." The unfastening of her buckle 
sounded harsh in contrast with her voice. "So relaxed. 
So hot."

I didn't reply. Touching her body was entrancing. I 
moved my palm across her tummy, tracing the line of her 
panties as my hand slid beneath her jeans. I stopped 
briefly when my fingers met the tangle of her pubic 
hair. Sandy had brown hair. "What color?" I wanted to 
picture what I would find when I finally slid her 
panties away.

"Brownish black", she giggled as my hand moved from her 
waist to circle her navel. She was expecting it to move 
the other direction.

I drew my hand upwards and felt the under-wire of her 
bra. The bottom of her breasts were firm, captured in 
her bra. My fingers traced the curve along the bottom, 
then up the side to where the strap met the cup. 
Sandy's breathing had that exciting sexual fever to it 
again. Between the cool night air and her excitement 
her nipples were very stiff, their shape distinct in 
spite of her heavy bra. I rubbed her nipples through 
the fabric. Her kisses became weak as her lower lip 
trembled.

Her reaction was getting to me, and I moved my fingers 
to unbutton her blouse. I began with the center 
buttons, just enough to slide my hand inside to massage 
her breast again. She moaned from deep inside her chest 
and pushed me away. "You're driving me crazy!" The 
frustration was clear in her voice. She reached up to 
unbutton her blouse and quickly removed it.

As she leaned to set it on the front seat I teasingly 
asked, "Are your nipples as exciting with nothing on 
them as they are all covered up?"

"There's an electric wire that goes strait from my 
nipples to my pussy." Her bra joined the blouse on the 
front seat. "When you play with them like that my whole 
body is on fire." She turned to look me in the eye, 
mock seriousness on her face. "What are you going to do 
if they aren't, anyway?"

"I'll tease and play with them until you beg me to 
stop."

"No more teasing. It's time to get down to business."

I was beginning to like this woman even more. I leaned 
over to nibble on her nipples, "Is sucking your nipples 
teasing or real sex?"

She began to grin uncontrollably. She shook her head a 
little, "Mmmmmn, you're making my pussy so wet. I like 
it when you talk like that. Tell me what you're going 
to do to me. Be raunchy." Yet another surprise from 
this woman. 

I knew what I wanted to do, and started by saying what 
was on my mind.

"I'm going to open your jeans and play with your 
pussy."

"That's a start. When I'm this hot I really like it 
raunchy. Make me feel nasty."

This woman was an erotic adventure. Exploring her 
sexuality this way seemed to be the beginning of a 
fascinating journey. She knew what made her river run, 
and wasn't afraid to ask for it. The trouble was that I 
knew lots of raunchy words, but I had never bothered to 
string them together into coherent sentences before. 
'Nice ass' and 'Man, I'd like to fuck that' are short 
and to the point, and not usually terribly interesting 
to women. I rose to the challenge. "I'll spread your 
cunt lips and tongue your clit." She made a little 
cooing sound like a bird, an encouraging sound. "I'll 
finger your fuck hole. I want to lick your cunt. Are 
you wet? Can I get a real good taste of you?"

Each nasty sentence produced a grin and a sound that 
started with a mmmh and ended with a deep breath. She 
pinched and pulled at her nipples as I alternated my 
sexual poetry with kisses from her belly button 
downward. Unfortunately, the seat wasn't big enough to 
bend over very far. 

"It looks like your pussy isn't going to be eaten after 
all." My matter of fact statement drew the cutest pouty 
face from Sandy.

"We'll just have to change positions until you can keep 
your promises." The determination woven into her 
equally matter of fact reply made me smile.

"Those were suggestions, not promises." I felt like a 
politician. I would never make a good politician. My 
denial was week. There was no question that I would do 
anything she asked if she would let me do just half of 
the nasty things I had said while pushing her buttons.

"Promise or not, you're going to do what you said you 
were going to do." She unbuttoned my pants and we 
somehow managed to get me out of them before we 
struggled into a 69 position. It's not so easy across 
the back seat of a Datsun.

Her pale skin and the light of the street lamp gave her 
sex an erotic glow as she lay back and spread her legs. 
Her right leg and shoulder pressed against the seat 
back. I had little room to move and the playground 
between her legs was half obscured. I ran my fingers 
through her pubic hair, caressed her outer labia and 
inner thighs as she teased my cock with her tongue. 

My fingers moved to spread her lips. I drank her musky 
scent in labored breaths. The dim amber street light 
made her rosy wet flower shine. She was wet and slick. 
I drew her moisture up and around her clit. I teased 
her, circling her clit briefly only to slide my fingers 
back into her warm depth.

I moved to lick her clit, but found myself blocking the 
light. How utterly frustrating. I wanted to see her up 
close and personal. Little kisses trailed across her 
inner thigh to the soft skin of her mons, drawn to the 
musky scent that teased with the promise of a taste of 
heaven. Sandy was drawing my stiff prick in and out of 
her mouth as my tongue traced the curve of her inner 
lips. Her taste electrified me as I dipped into her 
nectar. Sandy went stiff and cried out.

"I barely touched you!" I was surprised that she came 
so quickly. A moment later it was my turn to yelp as 
something wet and very cold dribbled down my balls.

"Cold!" she ejaculated. It took me a moment to figure 
out what she was talking about. The windows were 
covered with condensation, evidence of the heavy 
breathing we had been doing. A streak across a window 
where her foot had drawn though it told me that her cry 
was not of pleasure.

"Do you want to try another position?"

"Are you trying to get out of eating my pussy? Come on, 
get to it.

God, I want to explode."

Her scent was heavy and exotic. Sandy was very turned 
on and very wet. I spread her slick honey around and 
gently blew on it to give her a little chill. She 
whispered something between short breaths that I didn't 
quite hear. I went back to pleasing her. A few moments 
later she was squirming around beneath me, her hips 
pushing up and down in an erotic dance with my mouth.

A muffled moan became clearer as she let me slide from 
her mouth. She was panting, and the spit she had left 
on my dick was suddenly cold. Payback? I licked and 
probed with my tongue as well as I could in the limited 
space. The fingers of my left hand were treated to a 
wet bath as they pushed inside of her, fucking her to 
the rhythm of her hips. 

Her breathing became shorter and her body writhed under 
me. She tensed, her hips pushing to press her sex into 
my face but restricted by the cramped space. I pushed 
my fingers deeper, stroking the satin walls of her 
center as my tongue quickly between her swollen lips 
and over her clit.

Sandy began to cum. "Unnnngggghhh," a single long 
grunting sound as if she was lifting a heavy object. 
She tensed, pressing her warm cheek against the inside 
of my thigh. "Yes. Yes." The grunt and the tension in 
her body faded into short breaths and an erotic bucking 
until her hips stopped moving beneath me. 

"I needed that." She ran her tongue along my shaft. The 
wetness on my fingers as I drew them from her said that 
she was ready for more. I savored the taste on each 
finger as I sucked it clean. "Are you ready to fuck me? 
I don't have a hard cock in my hands very often. I'm 
going to make the most of tonight." Definitely ready 
for more.

It must have taken us ten minutes to find a way in that 
little back seat to get me inside of her. The windows 
were covered with very cold water and each movement was 
in fear of a cold wet surprise. We finally managed; 
sideways on the seat, Sandy on top, facing away from 
me. I wanted to watch her as we screwed, but there was 
just no way.

"The first thing that you need to know," Sandy 
announced in a vaguely recognizable impression of our 
instructor, "is that it's nearly impossible to do this 
if your cock is like a wet dishrag." She began to 
giggle, "Keep it stiff, and you'll automatically go 
where your partner goes." Uncontrolled laughter filled 
the Datsun.

"I guess it's your turn to lead..." my voice trailed 
off in mid sentence. My whole body tensed as she slid 
her wet hot cunt down onto my cock. The feeling was 
exquisite. Her back curved in a slight arc as she rode 
me. "Faster," I moaned. I was wedged in the seat. An 
unintentional bondage of sorts. Torture. I wanted quick 
thrusts, but was helpless to satisfy the desire.

Sandy had her own sensual pace. She looked over her 
shoulder at me with a look of pure delight on her face. 
She drew herself up almost off of me, then came down 
hard and fast. "Like this?" The shiver in her voice 
told me that she liked the long deep plunges as much I 
did. 

Moments later a ripple ran through her body, her 
muscles clenching my cock. "Not yet," she gasped. "I 
don't want to cum yet. This feels sooo good." The slow 
sensual rhythm returned. She slid her hand between our 
legs and stroked my cock in time with the movement of 
her hips.

I melted, mumbled noises echoing the pleasure rippling 
through my body. She knew how to make her pleasure 
last. My body was in a state of sweet delirium, every 
nerve screaming for release. I ached to cum, but 
watching her satisfy her need, drawing out her orgasm, 
was mesmerizing. Sandy's pace quickened to match the 
pulse of her breathing. I felt the hand on my cock 
drift to stroke her sex. I wanted desperately to watch 
her, her hands, her breasts, her face as she drove us 
both headlong into ecstasy.

"Aaaaahhh." Her head rolled back, her face contorted 
with pleasure. She ground down hard against my pelvis, 
fingers frantically rubbing her clit. The spasming 
flesh imprisoning my cock held me in the white hot 
agony between climax and release. At her mercy. Trapped 
beneath her shaking body. I felt her thighs relax, her 
shoulders flexed slightly. If she stopped now, I would 
die. She turned to smile at me and began to fuck me 
again. This time for me, her eyes promised.

I exploded inside and out. Her grinning face became a 
blur as the pleasure wracking my body wrenched at my 
attention. I came. Her hand and pussy worked magic as I 
slid from climax to the softer pleasure of afterglow. 
She seemed content to share this warm pleasure with me. 
An exquisite trickle ran from our joined bodies over my 
pulsing cock and balls. The sensation drew me back to 
reality.

Sandy drew herself off of my slimy shrinking cock. She 
turned to face me, her wonderful pussy leaving wet 
kisses along my leg as she moved to kiss me. "That was 
wonderful. Thank you."

"I like the way that you lead, you're a natural."

"I don't get to lead very often, I need more practice."

"Okay," was all that I could manage in reply.

Hot sexual excitement gave way to the unyielding cold. 
We made little jokes about how hard it was to dress 
without moving as we avoided the windows. Sandy drove 
us back to the bar.

I kissed Sandy good night at my car. "How about dancing 
Friday night?"

"I'd love to."

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 30