The White Overall - Sex Stories

The White Overall

... being replaced by the identity of attractive, desirable femininity.

The inside welcomed here with a wall of bodies - tightly packed together yet not touching each other. Every couple grooved in its own space, tightly wrapped into an embrace, hips shaking. A man raising his woman's hand high and creating a space for her to show off how she could play with her legs and fast footwork only to throw him a smoldering look to tell him that she was done doing a solo. A wall of men packed together like sardines at the wall. These were the lesser men, the ones new to dance. They were either too timid to ask for a dance or had been rejected due to their poor dancing skills. The music breathed into the room. Sucked up into everyone's lungs, it infused their bones to become incessantly alive. The bass echoed off the wall, sometimes clashing with itself.

She slipped her jacket off to reveal her breasts barely constrained by the white overall. They hung out there like udders. As soon, as she had draped her jacket over a chair, a man was already standing in front of her, holding out his hand to invite her for a dance. He was one of the lesser men. She knew her place. She was new to dancing bachata. She wasn't the most attractive. However, she knew how to reveal her body enough to get the guys excited.

He was hungry. His face had the shape of a weasel. He had the slipperiness of a weasel. There was something shy about how he touched her hands and put his hand on her hip to turn her. ...

... The shyness made him touch her fast and tentatively, like he was uncomfortable and scared about her. That shyness felt sly to her. Tolerating that slyness reminded her how much as a follower she was in the hands of the men who would dance with her whatever they'd offer. She was a guest in their aura. Their moves would be fast and surprising at times - too fast to resist or object. That sense of danger was part of the game that made dancing exciting - the sense of being on the edge, the very real possibility of going over the edge. That edge was the slice in her skin that she needed to shake off the feeling of her researcher life.

His hand pulled her into a turn, but she pressed her other hand on his chest hard to stop the momentum. She knew that to get the attention of the better dancers, she had to show off a bit. She let her bootie roll in a big circle to show off its shape and the arch in the back. She couldn't look back, but she hoped that she caught some glances. She smiled at the sly man like she was in love with him. She didn't like him, but she wanted to signal to the better men how seductive she was.

The men half realized that he was merely like a scratching post for a cat which she used to show off. Yet the other half of him was intoxicated by the show that she put on in his arms. Such a ravenous kitten! Such big and adoring eyes looking up at him! And then her hand slid down his chest like she was starving to rip off his shirt. And when the look on his face ...