In the Name of Art - Part III - Sex Stories

In the Name of Art - Part III

“I can always tell by the way a man moves if he is a good fuck or not.” “SORRY?” Her skin shimmered against the swirling red and purple rays of light. Penny’s body snaked provocatively to the swooping electronic bassline. Her movements complimented those of the cage dancers - the domain of burlesque dancers and strippers. Instinctively Penny and Harry moved together in a primal dance as old as time. She gestured to him to lean in closer. “I said, I can tell by the way a man dances if he’s a good fuck or not.” He held her hips, controlling the movement of her body as she sucked on his earlobe and grabbed his package. Softly, she pushed her tongue into his ear, rubbing her hand over his burgeoning cock. “Pen!” “You are good Harry, too fucking good. I want to fuck you, I see the girls in here checking you out.” They had planned to come here for weeks; this was ‘Berlin Cabaret’ night. As a mass gathering of the alternative, it was a menagerie of latex and leather, velvet and satin. The atmosphere crackled with sexual energy, all of them seeking to be different; every taste catered for and every kink accepted. Choosing a tight latex mini dress, jewelled choker and knee-high boots, it tautly held all the curves of her body in place. The sultry sway of her hips kept time with the languid movement of her head and arms. Revelling in how it caught the ambient lighting, Harry admired how the coloured tones of light and grey shadow gave it the appearance of dark water. He knew she had ...

... eschewed any underwear and wanted the lines of her naked body to define how the latex clung to her skin. She knew that look well enough by now in Harry’s eyes, her provocative movements would only add fuel to the fire. Matching her move for move, Penny admired how his body turned and twisted. His net top caught the ultraviolet light revealing the flaming swirls of reflective paint lovingly painted underneath. Side-laced leather trousers and chunky boots boosted his imposing frame over her more demure body. She backed onto him, grazing her pert bottom against the growing bulge in his trousers. Matching the slow swish of her hips, he took them to direct her movement and pushed his groin firmly against her. The exhilaration of her flagrant behaviour raged through him. It excited him; he wanted everyone to see the effect it had on him. Clasping her breasts, he took to her nipples with his fingers. He knew what effect that would have yielding an unheard gasp over the driving bassline. The latex was thin and elastic; it would be obvious that they were hard and aroused. She knew she was wet for him and that radiating ache drove her to the limits of restraint. Only a few inches of latex mini dress protected her from his fingers and cock. She had taunted him all night, with her words, actions and attire. Deliberately torturing him, she luxuriated in how she would pay for it. She knew what he was capable of after tormenting him like this. She yearned for the throbbing ache of her bruised ...