From Ballroom to Bedroom

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20


This story slots in between Like Mother, Like Daughter, Ch.03 and Blackmailed by Brenda. Again, it is fact-based on personal memoirs! Therefore, there is quite a lot of scene-setting before the action begins! It is much longer than my other anecdotes, but as I wrote, over a period of time, I remembered more and more of that unusual relationship.


As I had been banned from ever again seeing my first proper girlfriend, Lena, I was bored and frustrated. Bored because I had no-one to go out with, and frustrated because I had thoroughly enjoyed my early sexual encounters, and wanted more. Sure, there were plenty of girls who would oblige after a ride on my new motorbike, but I was really quite fussy about who I got intimate with, having no desire to acquire a nasty little rash!

In my late teens, I was living at home with my widowed mother, and it was she who suggested, probably with a sympathetic understanding, that I tried what she called “proper” dancing. Which meant ballroom style, but with the emphasis on Latin American. That conjured up images of long-legged, dusky beauties, wrapping their thighs round me while grinding their pussies into my groin. As it turned out, I was both right, and wrong!. But in the end, I had no regrets!

There being a dancing studio in the town centre, one Friday night I put on my best, skintight, pale blue jeans with three-inch studded belt, red shirt with buttoned collar, narrow spangled tie and the dark blue jacket from a full suit I never wore, mounted my motorbike, and rode into town. The icy November wind blew my luxurious, slicked-back hair, but that was easily rectified at the studio as I always carried a comb in my top pocket. (No crash helmets in the late 1960’s!) Arriving outside the large, brownstone block, I left my bike on its stand on the pavement (sidewalk), there being little car or bike crime in our small town in those days, and went inside.

The studio was on the second floor, which had probably been several large offices back in the day, but was now cleared to make one large room with wooden flooring. Swaggering inside to cover a feeling of uncertainty, I looked around the dimly lit interior. At one end was a gramophone (remember them?) and a small coffee bar at the other. A tall, slim woman in her mid twenties was setting things up on the gramophone, obviously the instructor. She certainly had a good figure, nice shapely long legs, and a well rounded arse. I felt encouraged, and hopeful!

She looked up as I entered, smiled at me and pointed to the coffee bar.

“I’ll be over in a minute to enrol you.” She called.

I walked to the coffee bar , ordered a coffee, which cost the princely sum of one shilling (pre-decimal days, 5p in today’s currency in the UK) and looked over the other drinkers. On the good side, they were mostly female, on the not so good, most over fifty! Although there were one or two of my own age group. The only good looking one unfortunately had her boyfriend with her, the other two were not particularly good looking. The older ladies were dressed up to kill, and the dim lighting hid any facial blemishes, helped by the heavy make-up of the day. Not an encouraging start, from my point of view, anyway.

After a few minutes, the instructor came over, and we completed the enrolment. As I handed over the fee, I had a good look at her. The twitching in my pants as I noticed how her nice tits threatened to escape from her dress, was quietened as her fellow instructor, and boyfriend, appeared from nowhere. As he was over six foot tall, and muscular, and I was a devout coward, I immediately lost interest. So, I lined up with the other novices and waited to be enlightened on the mysteries of Latin American dancing.

Learning the basic steps wasn’t very interesting. One step sideways, two steps forward, etc, in a line with the other males, on and on until we had it right. The females were in a line opposite us doing the same routines, but in reverse, as it were. I caught the eye of the most reasonable-looking girl, and smiled at her, to which she shyly responded. She was no beauty, but had enough flesh on tits, thighs and arse to make it worth grasping her in a dance routine. Perhaps, after a lesson or two, I might get my wicked way with her, as it was obvious she had no current boyfriend. I was only in my late teens, so that must excuse my chauvinism!

By the time our instructor considered we had learned enough to actually practice in pairs I was getting a bit bored. However, when she said the women could now choose a male partner I perked up. Now to get my hands on the girl opposite. There was a very undignified thunder of high heels on the dance floor as the line of women disintegrated in a mad rush across the floor. Now, except for myself and one other young man, who was cursed with dreadful teenage acne, the other males were much older, and I expected the mature ladies would make for them, which would allow the shy girl to choose me.

Not bahis firmaları a bit of it! At least three of the much older women almost fell over themselves to partner me! I suppose I should have felt flattered, but you can understand I wasn’t best please, especially as the winner of the 10 metre sprint was a woman in her early sixties, but faster than her contemporaries. She shot out her slightly plump hands, and caught hold of my arm possessively. In her high heels she was face to face with me, as I was only about five feet, ten inches tall, and whispered in my ear.

“Ooh, it’s so nice to have a handsome young man to dance with,” she giggled.

Well, I appreciated the handsome terminology, but caught a disappointed look on the face of the shy girl who had waited too long to get moving. Even so, being polite, I smiled at the compliment, and on the instructor’s command, took the woman in my arms in the approved fashion. As the record player began to blast out the music, and we started our basic steps together, I looked at my partner properly for the first time.She was quite plump, not what you would call fat, her jumper clinging to her body which was certainly well rounded, showing well-defined and separated large tits and a belly which was apparently straining to get loose.

Her skirt was quite tight fitting on her hips and arse, again very tightly, but the lower part was flowing enough for her to move reasonably freely. Had I been accustomed to the underwear of older woman I would have been certain she was wearing fairly strong supporting garments beneath her jumper and skirt. Her legs, which were visible from the knee down were in keeping with the rest of her, being quite well endowed with flesh, but surprisingly shapely with it. Her greying, wavy hair was permed, and she wore a modest perfume, which I actually quite liked.

“My name’s Norma, what’s yours?” she asked.

“Hello, Norma,” I replied, “I’m Philip.”

Introductions over, we concentrated on not tripping each other up. As we practiced for a couple of minutes, and the dance, I seem to recall it was the cha cha cha, meant we were in close contact, I was surprised, not to say shocked, to find the close contact with her large tits and belly, tightly contained though they were, was having an odd effect on me! My cock was starting to come alive! I could feel it bulging again my trouser front, and I had to hold the lower part of my body away from her. Not before a dance move had briefly nudged my bulge against her to my embarrassment. After all, she was older than my mother!

The dim lighting hid my confusion as the session ended, and a coffee break was called. I muttered a word of thanks, and rapidly walked over to the serving hatch. In a moment I was surrounded by thirsty dancers, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then, in the crush, I felt a hand briefly nip my arse. Risking a quick glance round, I saw Norma standing close behind me, her hand hidden in the throng, but a blush flashing across her chubby face, before more coffee drinkers moved us aside.

After the break, we resumed the routine of practising some more basic dance moves in two lines until this time the instructress called out.

“This time, the gentlemen will choose their partners. But,” and she paused for emphasis, “you will walk directly toward the lady immediately in front of you.”

I looked across, and noted that the woman in front of me was a small, thin woman in her mid fifties. Not Norma, thank goodness I thought, and began to walk over. The instructress was looking at us men, so did not see, that as I passed the halfway point, Norma had nudged her companion aside, and was directly in front of me by the time I reached their line. Being hemmed in by the other men, I had no chance to wriggle aside.

“Oh, my goodness, it’s Philip again,” Norma commented, with a slight smile, “how nice of you to choose me again.”

Well, what could I say, but agree, although I felt more than a little nervous, as the next dance required the man to put his hand behind his partner’s back and lean her over backwards a touch. My cock refused to literally rise to the occasion this time, though I thought I saw a flash of disappointment on Norma’s face! Or was that relief? Or imagination? Whatever, the session ended and we all collected coats or jackets and began to leave. I walked out into the chill air which hit me hard as I was feeling very warm, both with the heat of the dance studio, and embarrassment. Kick-starting my bike (no electric starts at that time) I roared off into the night.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” my mother asked, as I entered our house.

“So, so,” I replied.

“Meet any nice girls, there?” my mother continued.

“Not really,” I answered truthfully. After all, Norma hardly qualified as a girl! “Although I think I’ll give it another try next week.”

As I entered the studio the next Friday and looked around, my spirits rose. There were a few more girls there, some quite kaçak iddaa decent looking, and I saw no sign of Norma. We all chatted in groups round the coffee bar, until it was time to pay up for our session. As I moved to the men’s side, the door opened, and two women came in. One was the thin woman I nearly had to dance with last week, the other was Norma! She was looking carefully all around, and as she caught sight of me, her plump face broke into a noticeable smile. Oh, no, I thought, not again!

We went through the routines of practice, but this time only Norma made her way towards me. I often wondered afterwards if she had persuaded her friends to leave me to her as she had no competition from the other older ladies, and Norma already had marked out where I was standing. This gave her the advantage over the newcomers! Whatever the reasons, once again I found myself handling her tightly contained plumpness as we practiced in our pairs.

Now, Latin American does require a lot of close contact, and as we danced there was no doubt that Norma was pushing her body into me at every slight opportunity, leaving me no chance to hold myself away. The beat of the music and the repetitive close contact as Norma literally ground her lower body against me had the same, unexpected effect I had experienced last week. I began to experience a strong attempt at an erection, only my tight jeans hiding it from view in the dim room. But it could certainly be felt! Norma was certainly giving it her full attention. She was swaying so enthusiastically that even the instructress was impressed with our efforts, although she couldn’t see my aching bulge.

Norma was really enjoying herself, her face flushed through her make-up with the heat and the fun she was having. I was flushing too, mostly from embarrassment, and hoping no-one could see my predicament. The dance ended, and for the rest of that evening, only Norma managed to partner me, which was probably fortunate as I had difficulty settling my cock down after each dance! I often wonder what the younger girls thought, seeing me in permanent liaison with this woman who was literally old enough to be my grandmother. Probably, I hoped, with sympathy.

As we all crowded down the stairs, I felt a piece of card press into my hand. I glanced aside to see Norma’s face a few inches from mine. There was an almost pleading look on her features as she mimed the word “please”, and then we all separated as we went out into the street. Norma walked quickly to the nearest bus stop, her high heels clacking on the pavement, leaving me standing by my motorbike. For some unexplained reason, I stood there watching as Norma boarded the bus, and caught a glimpse of her looking out of the window towards me.

As the bus rounded the corner, I looked down at the card in my hand. It was a plain business card, with an address on it. No name, no message, just the address. I lit a cigarette and while I smoked it, I gave things some thought. Why should I bother? What was the point? I probably would have passed her by in the street in other circumstances, but now I really began to consider the situation. I hadn’t had any sex since Lena and her mother, Linda, and the feeling of an erection while dancing with a warm, fully fleshed woman had actually been quite pleasant, in retrospect.

So what if her best days were over? We had quite a crude saying in those days, ‘you don’t look at the fireplace when poking the fire’ and the thought of feeling that lovely hot, wet enclosing of my cock that comes from fucking a woman, finally decided me. Mobile phones not being invented then, I walked to the nearest phone box and rang home.

“I might be late home, tonight, Mum,” I said, “I’m having a coffee with a friend I met at the dance.”

“That’s fine, Philip,” she replied, and I could almost hear a smile in her voice, “just be careful coming home on your bike.”

“I will be careful,” I answered, and put the heavy black receiver back on it’s hook.

I was going to be very, very careful, in more ways than one!

The shipyard town where I lived was split into three parts. The main town and suburbs being on the mainland, the yard itself and a whole area mostly made up of tenements (Brownstone apartment blocks) on a central, partly man-made island, with a whole miniature town on the outer, island, which was long and narrow. Looking at the address Norma had given me, I knew she lived on the outer island.

My motorcycle engine roared hollowly as I crossed the first bridge echoing against the towering walls of the shipyard. The yellow fluorescent street lights reflected off the chrome of my headlamp as I rode about 45 mph across. No speed cameras in those days, and the cops didn’t care unless you did something really bad! I skirted the shipyard until I came to the main bridge to the main island, and tore across, enjoying the icy wind blast coming off the channel with its high tide.

It was about nine pm when I neared the district where Norma’s kaçak bahis house was situated. Her house was about halfway down a slight hill, so deciding not to draw too much attention to myself, I free-wheeled down the rise, pulled my bike in to a gap between the houses, switched off and parked up. I took the key with me, although those bikes were easy to hotwire, but, as I said, we had little car or bike crime in those happy days on the edge of nowhere!

I rang her doorbell very briefly, feeling a bit hesitant, not knowing who else might be in the house. A light came on in the hallway, and Norma opened the door. Her face, when she saw who was there, was a real picture, one I often remember with amusement. The whole range of emotions flitted across her plump features. Surprise, relief, embarrassment, hopefulness, and pleasure, all in quick succession.

“Oh, oh, it IS you,” she managed to say, “I didn’t really expect you, at least, not so soon.”

“I’ll go, then, if you’re not sure,” I replied, not knowing whether to feel relief or disappointment.

“No, no, please come in,” Norma answered, her words coming close together as she moved to one side to let me in.

She closed the door and led the way from the small hallway into the front room. Even though she had changed her shoes to low heeled house shoes, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the way her plump and well defined arse cheeks swivelled in the confines of her close fitting skirt. She had also changed into a light coloured blouse which bulged out enticingly. Her legs, now I could see them in a good light, were shapely even in their fleshiness. She turned as we entered the room, and I saw her face and figure in the bright lights of the room.

She may well have been in her early sixties, as I first thought, but in the clear light I could see how well she looked. Without the excess make-up, her face was actually quite pretty for her age, not badly lined, and her figure was well proportioned. Yes, she was definitely on the plump side, but the important statistics were well proportioned. Her tits were well developed, standing out well from the slight rounding of her belly. All in all, I increasingly felt my hopes rising. This could be good!

Nothing was said for a minute or two as we sat opposite each other on armchairs.

“I couldn’t believe it when I felt your, well, your response to me when we were dancing,” Norma said eventually.

“I’ll be honest<" I replied, "at first I was annoyed when you kept coming straight for me, but I didn't expect to feel so aroused later on." “Thank you for being truthfull to me,” she smiled, “at least I know you are genuinely interested.” Changing the subject, I asked her straight out, “are you married , or what?” She looked down at her feet. “I was married for over thirty-five years,” she answered, “I thought we were happy until one day my husband told me I had got too fat, and walked out on me for a younger woman who he worked with at the yard.” “And since then?” I asked. “It’s been seven years since he left, and I just stayed in and around my home until my friend, you know the slim lady I was with, persuaded me to go to dance studio.” I nodded, sympathetically. “Oh, I know you and I have nothing for us together, but when I danced with you, I just hoped to re-live a few moments of my happier, younger days.” I felt both saddened and warm towards this woman, but my young male instincts soon pushed that aside. “Well, I’m here, now, where shall we go from here?” Norma made up her mind, with some effort, then smiled, took my hand and walked me through the door and led me up the stairs and into the front bedroom. I looked around as we entered. It was tastefully furnished and decorated, white wardrobes and chest of drawers, with long cream curtains at the bay window. The double bed in the centre of the room had a silken style cover, as did the pillows. Norma drew the curtains closed, then switched on the bedside light before reaching up and pulling the cord which turned off the main light, leaving the room in a gentle glow. The action of reaching up had the pleasant effect of her blouse tightening in the skirt waistband, which made the material cling to her and certainly showed off her well rounded tits. The skirt also rode up a few inches revealing most of her thighs which showed little in the way of cellulose. By this time, the warmth and scent of the woman and the allure of her room were having the desired effect on me, as my cock was painfully trying to stretch to its full extent under my trousers and briefs. As Norma turned round to me, I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt. She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, so after I tossed my shirt on the bedside chair I reached across to help her. As the buttons came loose her blouse was pushed aside by Norma’s full, plump tits encased in their bra cups which jutted out towards me, leaving about an inch of rounded flesh showing above the bra. Her belly, definitely plump and rounded, was not flabby or saggy, but firm and full. I put my hands on the collar of the blouse, slipped it over her arms to join my shirt on the chair.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20