Thursday, April 12, 2018

OPP: The Dancer

This is not one of my old posts, but one by Pervertically Virtuous (scroll to bottom for more info) 
(FYI: links in this post are good)

Pervertically Virtuous posted: "One weeknight last month, Ace and I went to one of those edgy, interactive theater/dance performance shows that are all the rage in NYC these days. Walking up to the long line, we ran into a very sexy couple who is in our extended social circle. There has"

recovered post by Pervertically Virtuous

The Dancer

by Pervertically Virtuous
black-male-dancerOne weeknight last month, Ace and I went to one of those edgy, interactive theater/dance performance shows that are all the rage in NYC these days. Walking up to the long line, we ran into a very sexy couple who is in our extended social circle. There has always been mutual attraction in all directions, but we had never gotten a chance to play. So everyone was in a good mood as we decided to watch the show together.
The show was good. Not a sexually/sensually life-changing experience as it apparently has been for some (it's hard for me to have one of those at this point in my life), but very entertaining, visually stunning, and acrobatically impressive. It was a huge cast consisting of many chiseled, gorgeous bodies that presented a true feast for the eyes and a tickling of the groins, especially since they came close to you, touched you, played with you... Adding to that our own night-long playfulness with the other couple, and the result was a very titillated PV.
I couldn't help but notice the couple of Black men among the dancers. One of them, in particular. He was tall, late 20's, handsome face, ripped body. I automatically assumed he was gay, but still flirted with him as much as I got a chance over the course of the show. When the show ended, we all stayed and hung out at the bar. The Dancer showed up and got a drink, and somehow got pulled into our conversation. Ace was busy flirting with someone else, and the Dancer and I ended up chatting for a while, flirting more and more openly. Ace would drop in and out of our conversation, just enough to make it clear that I was married to him, yet he was not only not angry, but actively encouraging of my flirtation. After the Dancer's initial shock at this realization - he confessed to not being used to being amidst openly sex positive and nonmonogamous people - he became intensely interested in getting to know us better.
We considered taking him back home with us that night, but there were competing interests: The sexy couple, who live only a few blocks from our house, suggested the four of us could share a cab home and stop at a bar nearby for drinks and some private time. That had to take precedence. (And it was the right choice to make: We had a very fun, very heavy make-out session at this mostly-empty neighborhood bar, providing an hour-long, R- bordering on X-rated performance for the pleasure of the few patrons who couldn't take their eyes off us.)
A few days later, we decided to go out for drinks. It was not an ideal evening for hooking up -  I had just gotten my period, and Ace was in town (and although he's become open to the idea, I still try not to see other people's separately while he's in town). I wouldn't normally just go out without planning on fucking, but it was the Dancer's only night off all week, I was leaving town for a few weeks, and Ace had a date with someone else, so I thought it'd be a good idea to touch base with the Dancer before going away. He also seemed like a nice, interesting guy that may warrant more than a fuck.
We got a glass of wine and a light snack at a bar close to my house. We had a lovely, sexy, engaging conversation, and when we were done, I asked him to walk me home. I was honestly not planning on taking it to anything too serious , but I had to sample the goods at least. I was dying to see and feel what was hiding in his pants.Would I be a lucky gal yet again? So, as we were walking down a dark, deserted back street, I stopped and kissed him. He was a good kisser. We started making out in the middle of the street, our bodies in a tight embrace. I ran my hand underneath his shirt - lovely 6-pack, only a little bit of hair. I then slid my hand down over his jeans and was pleasantly greeted with a very big bulge.
That changed things a bit - it made it much harder to go with the original plan. Feeling that massive cock in my hand was extremely compelling: I had to play with it at least a little bit, maybe just taste it. We got to my building and we started making out in the stairwell. But I wanted more, I had to take him upstairs. I texted Ace to see if he was still busy with his date, and took his lack of response to mean that he was. I let him know I was taking the Dancer upstairs for a little bit and then ran up the stairs as fast as we could.
We started making out as soon as we walked in, leaned against the hallway door. That is when I first unbuttoned his jeans and out popped a beautiful, enormous black monster in all its glory. I gasped and marveled at it for a few minutes, stroking and licking it. With his cock in my hand, I dragged him over to the couch in the living room and got on top of him. I told him I was on my period and that he's going to owe me one or two. He didn't seem too disappointed. I think he felt like he was already getting more than he had hoped for.
We took most of our clothes off, kissed, and groped each other's bodies for a while. I would go back and forth between rubbed my panties-covered crotch against his manhood, and trying to get as much of it in my mouth as I could. He was too thick to deepthroat - wouldn't pass through my mouth cavity. When he could take it no longer, he asked if he could cum. I sped up my hand motions, keeping his cock firmly in my mouth, until he blew a big load down my throat.
I was really aroused by that point. He stayed hard and we kept making out. I had to have an orgasm somehow. I asked him if he minded some blood. I'm not a big fan of menstrual blood (other types of blood are a different story), but I don't mind it too much in a pinch (and this was a pinch for sure). He said he "wasn't there yet" in his sexual openness and comfort. So I went for Plan B - getting my throat fucked while I masturbate.
I took him to the bedroom, positioned him on top of me in just the right angle for mouth-fucking, and planted one hand firmly on my clit. He proceeded to fuck my mouth as he would fuck a pussy, which is an incredible turn-on for me. He wasn't the most amazing lover, but it may have been that he was just being cautious and reserved. Given that I was married, he didn't want to overstep any boundaries, and since I was clearly the more experienced one, he let me take the wheel and just followed my lead. Which I was totally fine with. I came twice, the second time at the same time as he was cumming down my throat. It was really hot.
We laid on the bed for a few minutes after our second orgasm to collect ourselves.
"I guess you don't owe me any," I smiled, very happy at how things had turned out. I walked him out soon after, promising to call when I'm back in town to continue where we left off.
My husband came home barely 15 minutes after the Dancer left. He loved hearing the story, and I was so glad he was overcoming his discomfort at - better yet, embracing - the thought of me having gotten fucked just minutes before his arrival home.
He, himself, ended up having a chance to get laid on his date, but that didn't become apparent until it was already quite late, he was tired at that point, and he felt fairly satiated from a busy week over the previous few days. So he declined. He actually felt quite good about being OK declining sex with a new partner. A sign of a good week, indeed.
Pervertically Virtuous | April 12, 2014 at 11:25 am |

In the process of recovering my own old posts via email I discovered some of P.V.'s. Like me, her old accounts have been terminated, and she seems to have disappeared from the internet. This is a damn shame since I consider her one of the best sex bloggers I've ever had the chance to read and follow. I'm reposting her old posts as a historical archive, and if she ever returns to blogging I'm happy to hand them back to her.
To be clear: the copyright on this work is hers, and remains with her - I didn't write it and I make no claim to it.

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