ballet diversions
Some might have called Lynn and Craig a mismatched couple. She was a few years older than him, the house was in her families name, and he was still finishing his graduate studies. They also didn't seem to share a lot of common interests. But amoung their circles of friends, they were considered about as happy and close as a couple could be, and had lived together for a few years now. Perhaps it was the fact they allowed each other enough room to pursue their individual hobbies, best exemplified on Sundays when he would spend most of the day in the living room, while she would be in the basement rec-room, specifically furnished to her needs.
Although she'd always been a fan of dance, she never got the chance to study it as a child, so she was delighted to find that ballet was offered as an adult-learner class at the local community centre. Lynn enjoyed it immensely, and would spend part of her Sunday afternoons practicing her skills. Craig had installed a long wooden barre for her along one wall, though he himself found the whole thing terribly boring, and often said so. Thus, it was a bit of a surprise when he came down the steps into her little mini-studio.
"Well, hello stranger," Lynn said, coming down from 'battement fondu'.
"Just wanted to see what you were up to," he said casually, sitting down on a nearby chair.
"Either that or the tv cable's out."
Craig's sheepish smile told her she was right. Lynn was dressed in her usual practice clothes; a long sleeved black leotard, white tights, and ordinary soft leather ballet shoes. Her shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail. It was all a little different than what Craig was used to seeing. Most days Lynn preferred simple dresses with low hemlines, which while quite elegant, disguised much of her lean, shapely figure.
"So, what sort of strange things do you get up to when you're down here all alone?"
Lynn laughed. "You really don't get it, do you? Why do you find ballet so uninteresting? What is there not to like?"
Craig resettled his narrow-rimmed glasses, trying to think of a diplomatic answer. "Well, I'm not a fan of classical music for a start."
"Ok, so, there's not any playing right now. What else?"
"And, um, well, it seems an unusual way to tell a story. Even opera has dialogue at least. And, um.."
Lynn smiled, arms folded across her chest. "I think I know what the problem is. You've got in your head that there's only one way you're meant to watch it, that it's supposed to be some austere high-class art form. Let me try and see if I can present it to you in a somewhat different way..."
Lynn came to stand in the middle of the hardwood floor, facing him directly, her one foot placed before the other in the '5th position'. She made a sweeping gesture in front of her, demonstrating the straight line she was making with her body.
"Right. Now, picture this as a stage during an average production. What do you see?"
"Um, you?"
Lynn smiled. "Yes, well, of course I expect to be the centre of your attention, but I meant generally."
Craig shrugged. "Well, I guess there'd be a whole lot of other people up there with you. There's usually a lot more women in these things than men, right?"
Lynn nodded, gradually moving herself into an elegant 'arabesque', leaning forward toward him on one leg, turned in such a way so he could get a good look at how the other stretched out behind her, her arms making a diagonal line to the position of her body.
"Now, what would you say that these women all have in common?"
Craig sat forward in his chair. It was hard not to notice the sweep and shape of her figure in this posture, especially her long beautiful legs. "I guess they're all thin, attractive, young..."
"Ah, but not just thin, but strong, very fit," Lynn added. She shifted now into an 'attitude', straightening her torso while crooking her right leg behind her in a particular way, one arm raised in an arch above her head. In this half profile, Craig could see the shape of Lynn's small but perfectly formed breasts outlined through the tight black leotard. "In fact, you could say they represent a kind of paradigm of feminine beauty."
"Wait a minute," Craig interjected, trying to cover up his growing arousal. "Are you saying the reason I should watch ballet is to ogle women?"
"You say that like it's a terrible thing," Lynn laughed, relaxing back into her original '5th position'. "Not too long ago it was one of the few socially accepted places you could. Picture yourself back another century of so. Women were wearing these huge dresses, with crinoline and bustles and who knows what all, and it was considered a scandal to show even a glimpse of ankle. But, if you were to go to the ballet, you'd find that the dancers then were pretty much dressed as you see them now. So, why not admire the women? A lot of classical art is a celebration of the female form. How many paintings or sculptures of nude women have you seen, hmm? And I promise you there isn't one woman on stage who would take offense if you thought they were pretty hot."
Lynn could tell Craig was still rather dubious, but she could also see that her little display had some effect on him, at least as far as the bulge in his jeans was concerned. Stepping forward, she slunk around the back of the chair, draping an arm across his shoulders.
"It's alright. It doesn't matter," she bent down, murmuring into his ear, "just as long as there is one dancer in particular you keep lusting after."
She ran a long finger across his lips in a mock kiss, then deftly slid herself back in front of him, dropping so that she was kneeling between his legs. Craig looked down at her with a certain degree of astonishment, her hands running purposefully over his thighs, her head resting against one knee.
"Is this normal behaviour for a 'paradigm of feminine beauty'?"
Lynn simply smiled, the palm of one hand pressing firmly against his manhood through his clothes. There was something incongruously innocent yet sexy about the way she looked, huddled at the feet of the chair in her tight black leotard, her legs folded beneath her in those white tights and ballet shoes. As she undid the snap and pulled down the fly of this jeans, she was suddenly overcome by a fit of giggles.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, sorry," she apologized, "I was just thinking of what some of the other dancers were telling me. Some of them will wear their ballet shoes during sex because their boyfriends are really into the whole thing, not to mention even kinkier stuff. I never thought I'd be doing something like that for you."
Craig didn't see fit to argue the point. Now that she'd extracted his fully stiff organ, gently massaging it's length in her elegant fingers, he figured she could wear whatever she wanted. He was used to her being a little sexually aggressive at times, but this was all a little forward even for her. He unconsciously shuffled closer to the edge of the chair, allowing Lynn to pull his pants down further, now able to tease and play with his testicles as well. She looked up into his eyes with a cunning grin on her lips, which were now only a hairs-breadth away from the tip of his cock.
"I wonder if there's anything more I can do to make ballet a little more enjoyable for you." "I can think of one thing..."
The moment her lips touched the surface of his cock he let out a small moan. Lynn never broke eye contact with Craig was she took him inside her mouth, teasing the end of his glans with her tongue, watching his every reaction. Craig didn't have a great deal of sexual experience before meeting Lynn, but he doubted there was any woman on earth who could do to him what she could. Reaching down, he gently stroked her chestnut brown hair, tied back as it was away from her face. He wished he had the wit to say something appropriate at these moments, but all he could do was sit with increasing rigidity as she pleasured him, all the affection he had for her communicated by his touch on her hair.
Lynn withdrew just in time to see the first drop of pre-cum fluid emerge from the tip of his penis.
"Someone is rather excited I see," she teased, smearing it all around his glans with her thumb.
"Hmm," he groaned.
"Come on, time for a pas-de-deux." She grabbed his arm and pulled them both to their feet.
Kicking off his jeans, he helped her take off his shirt while they exchanged quick passionate kisses. Backpedaling, she led them to the centre of the floor, he naked while she remained clad in her full practice gear. He couldn't remember the last time they'd played around like this outside of the bedroom.
"You're still dressed," he remarked.
"I know. I like it." She twisted in his arms, her back to his chest. He kissed her hotly on the neck, one hand sliding under the front of her leotard to hold onto her naked breast. She could feel his erection pressing against her buttocks as they embraced. She never felt more beautiful than at this moment, the dancer and her paramour, together on their own private stage.
"Touch me lower," she whispered, guiding his other hand down to the junction of her thighs. He cupped her pubis with his palm, rhythmically pressing and rubbing it through her clothes. Now it was her turn to moan as he pulled aside the crotch of her leotard, teasing her bare cunt through the sheer fabric of her white tights.
"You're not wearing any underwear," he observed, his voice tight with his own excitement.
"Of course," she giggled.
"I can feel how wet you are," he said breathlessly, the smear of moisture growing on the crotch of her tights as he continued stroking against her labia.
Rub me right there," Lynn instructed, putting one hand over his, moving his fingers over her clit. "I want to come just like this at least once."
"Are you serious?"
"Please." With one arm wrapped around her torso for support, he fingered her with as much verve and skill as he could muster. Lynn's head tilted back against his shoulder as her arousal mounted. The texture of her tights was slightly rough against her sensitive clit, but at the moment she didn't care, it felt too good to make him stop. "Keep going, I can feel it coming."
Lynn pressed back hard against Craig, her knees growing weak. For a second he thought he might come himself just from having his erection pressed between his body and her leotard covered ass. Stifling an incoherent whimper, she went rigid in his arms, her orgasm throbbing through her.
"I wish we had a mirror, I'd love to see how I look," she breathed, coming down from her peak. "You look beautiful."
Turning around, she kissed him, her hand automatically gravitating to his cock. The poor boy must have been getting desperate by now, she could practically feel it jump a little with every heartbeat.
"Help me take my top down," she said, pulling an arm free from her leotard. He did the same for the other, pulling the tight garment down to around her waist, exposing her small round breasts. He bent down to take one into his mouth, gently suckling at it while he fondled the other. She always felt warm and sexy whenever he paid attention to her breasts like that, but they were both pretty much beyond the point of foreplay by now.
"Come on, let's go over to the barre."
Her back pressed against the long wooden rail, she laid her hands lightly on it's smooth surface while he pulled her leotard and the elastic top of her tights down over her hips. Running his hand over her neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair, he played and teased around the outside of her eager pussy. Giving him one last kiss, he turned her back to him again, bending over, her hands braced firmly on the barre. She looked back over her shoulder with a meaningful stare, and he needed no further invitation.
They had made love with him coming from behind before, but never standing up, and certainly not with her still half dressed. With her tangled leotard and the top of her tights just below the line of her buttocks, her taut legs remained sheathed in white, her feet balanced on her toes in those pink ballet shoes, just waiting for him to take her. He couldn't remember her ever looking so erotic.
Without a further word, he placed one hand on her bare hip while lining up his cock with the ruffled folds of her labia. Holding his breath, he found the pliant opening of her vagina and pushed inside. Usually too embarrassed to allow herself to be very vocal during sex, she now gave an ungainly grunt as she felt him fill her up with his hard member. Hands tightly clenched onto the barre, she pushed back against his initial thrust, taking him as deep as possible. Craig was afraid he wouldn't last too long, so the tried to take it easy, thrusting slowly and deliberately.
This self restraint became impossible as Lynn continued to push back against him with her body, her efforts punctuated by strained little groans. Putting both hands on her hips, he let himself go completely, jabbing with short fast strokes. Face locked in a exstatic grimace, it was his turn to groan as the first twitch of ejaculation thrilled through him, his cock throbbing in orgasm as his seed spilled into her warm tender insides.
In the aftermath of the moment, Craig bent down to place a kiss on Lynn's sweat sheened back, his gradually softening member slipping wetly out of her cunt. Her skin still rather flushed from the experience, she straightened up, finally able to catch her breath. Reaching between her legs she could feel the sodden mess it had become down there.
"Oh, boy," she said, her voice still a little unsteady. "I really could use a shower."
"Hope you don't mind if I join you."
"Wouldn't have it any other way." They shared a long lingering kiss. "Can you help me take off my clothes?"
Kneeling down, Craig pulled her tights to just past her knees, while she kept a hand cupped around her cunt to keep from dripping onto the hardwood floor.
"So, what do you say," she asked, raising each foot in turn so he could untie and slip off her shoes. "Have I changed your mind about ballet at all?"
"I don't know about that," he replied honestly, "but I sure wouldn't mind seeing another of your Sunday matinee performances some time."
Lynn gave an appreciative laugh. Her ballet gear now in a small heap on the floor, the two naked lovers left their private stage, the metaphorical curtain closing on this intimate episode.
