Phallic Friday - erotic dance

One of the first fetish ideas that came to me was dance. What do you think of when I first say "erotic dance"? Well, mine was rubbing up against a
guy who was wearing not a lot... you can probably blame my interest in Manpower in my younger days and my friends.

There are a few forms of erotic dance - like stripping and pole dancing - but I'm interested in the one-on-one form, which could include lap dances and private strip teases, but doesn't for this story.

For this story I'm developing a scene from a few past ideas and events.

Years back, a friend told me that you could check out a man's package if you danced right up close to him - yes, I think we were drunk at the time, but she was right. Dance right up close and grind your hips against his and you certainly can check out his gear if there's good chemistry happening. Have you ever done that? Or was I led astray by my friends? :)

When I was young, there was a magazine, Australian Women's Forum, that was something like a cross between a woman's magazine and playboy for women. I subscribed. One month's issue had this incredible photo spread of a guy, who was wet, near naked, really exquisitely muscled, and in my favourite image, kneeling on some rocks or the sand or something (who cared about the background when he caught my eye!?). Turned out he was Jamie Durie and he was in Manpower. I made a promise to myself that I'd see him for real. Some months later, or even longer, Manpower were coming to the town I worked in. I was probably the last person anyone expected to gather together a bunch of women to go to Manpower, but that's what I did. I think half a dozen of us went and I admitted to my crush. Not only was the show amazing, but Manpower were having photos afterwards with groups of women. We went...and god love those girls...they had me plonked on Jamie Durie's lap. That photo adorned my office wall for years!

So, my scene in this book is going to use a guy built like Jamie Durie at his Manpower peak (maybe bigger), and a bit of dancing like he did with Manpower, but with my heroine doing some package checking moves. Do you think that could work?

Here's a little extract from the first draft of the scene:

I dance close to him, lured by his movements. We touch. A brief slip of his fingers against my arm but it’s like lightning. My body jerks to a halt. My arm burns. I resume dancing but I’m addicted to his touch. We brush each other more. His hand against my arm. My fingers brush his chest. His hand slides over my hip. Mine curves over his thigh. It’s now a heady dance of touching and not touching. Of closeness and distance.

My lust burns strongly. My body tingles with passion. I want to be covered by this man. I want to be smothered by him, moulded against him, cradled in those powerful thighs.

I dance around him. Circling faster and faster. Closer and closer. My breasts scrape against his back, my nipples rock hard from the contact. My breath jams in my throat but I keep moving. I dance in front of him and he catches me. His arms around my body. I’m pulled flush against him. My nipples aren’t the only thing rock hard.

His arms are like vices. His chest burning hard muscle. His thighs trap me with ease. His cock scores my stomach. And still we writhe together to the tempo. I’m held captive but still moving. It’s thrilling. I’ve never felt so alive. I rub against his chest until my nipples are at the point where I can’t tell if it’s pleasure or pain I feel. I moan and he leans me backwards over his arm. My cunt’s pressed against his rock hard thigh. My breasts push upwards, straining against the now oil-covered pink lace. Warm air drifts across the aching peaks. I writhe. I’m pressing down on his thigh, stretching my legs so I can open my labia and seek release. But it isn’t enough happening. I can’t press down hard enough.

My nipples scream for attention but all that touches them is air and the warrior’s gaze. Both are hot and neither are enough. I squirm against him, trying to press my clit against his hard thigh muscles but the way I’m bent stops the access I need. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

It’s so long since I’ve felt this alive. This close to release.

As I press downwards again, arching so my breasts strain further against the lace, the warrior growls. His eyes dark seconds before his mouth opens and his tongue pushes out to lap his lips. An aching throb bolts through my body. I want his tongue on me.

He lowers his head. So slowly it’s torturous to watch. His eyes widen as he draws close to my breast. I wait. Holding my breath. Straining. Dying.

Heat. Hot breath. Warmth. Moisture. Pressure. Ahhhh. He sucks my left nipple into his mouth. It’s exquisite. My body relaxes as that tiny moment of release comes.

Relaxation isn’t for long. He laps my nipple with his tongue. He sucks it into his mouth and laps. He bites. Sucks. Pulls. Teases. Flicks. Rolls. Twists. It’s wickedly beautiful torture. My left breast aches with pleasure. My right throbs with need.

I rub on his thigh. The soaking moisture making a slippery surface for my movement. I can’t find release but the pleasure-pain balance is perfect. I’ve never experienced it before. Never been tormented to longing. Never been seduced to frenzy. And I’m frenzied. I need to come.