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My Darling Dancer from London: Sex in the Dance Studio

I sat on the leather couch in the lobby as Emily toiled around the offices of the dance studio.

“I’m almost done!” she shouted from a nearby hallway.

It was after midnight and we were the only ones there.  On the opposite wall, a row of dim track lights lit the autographed photos hanging on it; artists like Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, and countless others who were popular or had been popular over the last couple of decades.  The owner of the studio, a very well-known dancer and choreographer, was in many of the photos with lines of gratitude and praise for her written under the artist’s signatures.

Emily scurried down the hallway, switching off the lights and making sure all of the doors were locked.  Leaving on the table lamp beside the couch, she exhaled and sat on my lap.

“Sorry about that, love.  I tried to finish everything before you got here, but there were some things I forgot to do.”

“That’s okay.  I’m in no rush,” I smiled.

She smiled back and we began a slow and passionate kiss.

“I’m so glad you’re here Daddy,” she whispered in between our meshed lips.

“I’m glad to be here with you,” I whispered back.

Our kisses became more intense as our tongues danced together in slow twirls.  Emily’s hand rubbed against the inside of my thigh, along the bulging imprint of my shaft resting against it.  She slid off of my lap and onto her knees, in between my legs.  She continued to rub my swollen imprint as she bit her lip and she gazed at me with her big, green eyes.

“Take it out Daddy,” she asserted, with a gentle hunger in her voice.

I slid my pants and boxers down to floor.  My cock stood at attention for her as she grabbed it and took it into her mouth.  She was more prepared this time; we’d had a few conversations about her teeth getting in the way and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again.

Emily opened her mouth wider and drooled a lot to create enough lubrication to glide in deeper.  I held back her curly red locks so I could watch her bob up and down while twisting her hands along the base in a nice rhythm.

“You’re such a good girl, baby,” I moaned.

“Thank you Daddy,” she gasped after coming up for air.

“Come here.”

Emily rose and sat on my lap, facing me.  My hands gripped her body underneath her dress as she lifted her arms and slipped out of it.  I kissed along her smooth, pale stomach and up to her nipples to suck on them.

“I didn’t wear any panties for you Daddy,” she uttered in my ear.

I rubbed my fingers across her wet pussy.

“Mmm, I see.”

I descended between her legs and feasted on her moist entrance like a man who’d just been given water after being lost in the desert.  Emily’s climax was quick as her thighs trembled against my face.  My mouth was drenched with her juice as I reached down for the condom in my pants.

“You ready for Daddy, baby?” I asked.

“I’m so ready for you Daddy.”

Emily rubbed her clit as I rolled on the latex.  She straddled me as soon as I sat, put my cock inside of her, and rode me until she came.  My arms embraced her as she bit into my shoulder to muffle her orgasmic shrieks.

I stood and arched Emily into doggy style position, then slid inside of her gaping hole.  I threaded a handful of her hair between my fingers and pulled back her head while fucking her deep and hard.  We were sweating a lot at this point; it looked like someone had turned on a sprinkler beside the couch.

After being in that position for a while, we stopped for a moment to catch our breath.

“I’ve got an idea,” I said, looking towards the dark entrance of the rehearsal studio.

Emily flipped the light switch and the studio became visible.  It was constructed like a typical practice space – hardwood floors, mirrors covered the walls from floor to ceiling on both sides, and ballet bars were attached at the end sections of the mirrors.

She did a series of eloquent spins and twirls as she made her way to one of the bars, then a few flamingo-like poses with her legs and other stances I’d seen ballet dancers do – I was very impressed at how effortless it was for her to do them.  Because she was naked, I saw the muscles of her body flex with every change of posture – it was like watching an exhibition of a dancer’s musculature on display.

“Sorry, I’m just being silly,” she giggled.

“No, you look amazing.”

“So what’s your idea, Daddy?”

Emily lifted her leg and rested her ankle on the bar.  She stretched forward and grabbed her toes as her forehead touched her knee.  I didn’t have a plan before we entered the room, but I was given immediate inspiration by her stance.

I stood behind her, put my hand under her extended thigh, and slipped my cock inside of her.  She gasped and clenched her toes harder with each slow thrust I gave.

The mirrors were our friends once again.  It was like a theme of our escapades; Emily and I were beautiful together and we were meant to see ourselves.  When I insisted that she look at our reflection, she wasn’t coy like before.  I could tell that she was turned on as much as I was by watching our sculpted bodies move in the rhythmic harmony of an intense fuck session.

Emily leaned back and curled her arm behind my head.

“Fuck me harder Daddy.  Give me all of your cock… please,” she begged.

I complied.  Emily’s screams echoed throughout the rehearsal space as I pounded her harder and faster.  She bent her outstretched leg inward and pressed her hands against the mirror to keep from hitting her head.  Her breath fogged the glass with every huff.

“You fuck me so good Daddy!  God, you fuck me so good!” she shouted.

“I’m about to cum, baby.  You ready?”

“Yes Daddy.  Let me taste it.”

I pulled out and slipped off the condom.  Emily fell to her knees, opened her mouth wide, and extended her tongue beneath the head of my dick.  I stroked myself until my load erupted across her taste buds.  She moved my hand aside and siphoned the remainder of cum from my cock as my body stiffened from the intense sensation.  After swallowing every drop, she let out a refreshing exhale.

“You’re very sweet,” she beamed.

Emily stood and gave me a deep, tongue-coiling kiss.  She wanted to be sure that I tasted any residue of what I’d deposited in her mouth, and I savored what I was able to taste.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Not too bad.  I should eat more fruit though,” I laughed.

Not long after that night, Emily moved back to London.  Her financial situation wasn’t getting any better and she’d decided that moving back in with her parents and saving money for a future return to the metropolis was her best option.

Emily never returned, however, things worked out well for her back in England.  She married a handsome and successful guy, they live in a huge house, and they have a beautiful daughter together.  Emily and I exchange well wishes to each other now and again via social media and she often posts declarations of how grateful she is for the life she’s living.

I’m just as grateful for the experiences we had together and the way her life turned out afterwards.


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