I was a bad girl last night.
A few girl friends came over, and we drank several bottles of champagne between us. By the time my husband got back, I was what you might call tipsy. Not drunk, no I’ve only been truly drunk a few times in my life, but I was definitely feeling a bit more chatty than usual. My cheeks were rosier too. My laughs were louder. Then I wanted to dance.
Tango music had been playing quietly in the background while I entertained my friends, and now that everyone was gone, my husband turned it up. We started on our routine, the one for the upcoming competition. I was on one side of the room and he was on the other. Slowly, we walked towards one another, our chests met first, then our hands, and then the footwork began.
He lowered me and our legs moved in a circular motion on the ground in unison. It’s an intimate start to a dance that is sure to leave the audience in awe.
Tango is about two people moving as one. It’s the epitome of union between a strong man and a unapologetically feminine woman. She can hold herself up and dance her own dance, sure, but she chooses surrender.
When the woman leans in and relies on her man to lead, she can relax into her body and simply feel. She doesn’t have to worry about steering the dance or which move is coming up next. And this frees her up to be even more beautiful and graceful as she brings each movement to its fullest most spontaneous bloom before being led to the next.
When the man feels a strong yet trusting woman in his arms, he is more himself than at any other time. He gets to play with her, tease her, and invite her to dance his dance while creating her own unique magic in each step.
Tango takes two independently strong people and gives them access to deeper realms of existence.. realms neither of them had access to when they were doing it all alone. It’s truly one of my goals to bring the principals of tango into my married life with my husband.
When we met, I was fully independent. I owned my own business, my own home, and had enough of my own money. I could do it all alone. So could he.
Over time we’ve both given up control of certain aspects of our lives and trusted the other to fulfill it. It’s not about expectation and demand. It has been a slow give and a slow take that comes to harmony at some unplanned point… the point where it just feels right.
Of course, we’re all human, and just like in tango, there are times when we lose the balance and the ideal of dancing as one crumbles into an unpleasant experience of two people pushing and pulling each other around the dance floor.
That’s where we were on New Years Eve.. at some nasty place where I was pulling him into the moves I wanted to do and no longer following his lead. He was dancing on his own with no regard for me.
“Let’s get in something a bit more comfortable,” my husband said after our spontaneous tango in the living room. “I want to practice some more.”
We slipped into our bedroom and the clothes came off. I got into some sassy red lingerie and my violet tango heals. He wore only his pants and socks and stood bare chested ready for the music. (I think he had had a few drinks on his own without me.)
We glided around the polished pine wood floors and melted into each others arms as the romantic music filled our room. It was seductive and loving and it made me proud to have invested as much time as we have in learning the Argentine tango. It also made me horny.
We fell into bed in a half tipsy, half exhausted manor. He lay on his back and I cuddled to his side rubbing his chest. He loves it when I do that. “I wanna make love,” I said.
“Is your little pussy horny?” he teased me.
“Yes. I didn’t cum this morning. Remember?” My feminine voice was on point. It had to have been the perfect mixture of champagne and tango. I felt my girlish plea in every cell of my body. I was asking, not demanding. And a good girl accepts both a yes and a no. His lead might have been to sleep, but I hoped my nudge towards a more sensual direction for the evening would be met with a more sensual lead from him.
It didn’t happen. In a moment, he was asleep and I was alone on the dance floor of my sexuality.
That’s when the bad girl came out. I wanted to feel his dick inside of me, hell, any dick. So I reached for the dildo in my bedside table. It’s a bit smaller than my husband’s dick, but it’s better than nothing.
I reached for my coconut oil and discovered it was clumpy from the cold. I broke off a piece and instead of slathering it around my pussy lips, I pushed the chunk inside of my little opening allowing it to melt in my body lubricating me from the inside out in the process. That made me feel sexy.
At some point he will wake up to me masturbating and want some. I reasoned. But that didn’t happen.
At first I couldn’t get the entire dildo in me, but as I rubbed my clit and thought some dirty thoughts, the dildo naturally found its way all of the way in. It filled me up and I felt whole again. I wish it were my husband. Fuck, I need him.
The fantasy started like it always does. Not one man, but three. They all come to see me, and they all come for one thing, my pussy. And they know me, I’m the neighborhood whore. Fully satisfied is how they’re going to leave.
The first guy is the leader. He comes over all of the time. He’s the guy who brings my birth control and feeds it to me when he he says I need it. I’m dumb enough to think he loves me of course. I’ve been taught that any attention is love so naturally I think all of the guys who visit for sex are in love. If he cums, he loves me. If he doesn’t then he doesn’t.
The other two are his horny friends he’s introducing to me. “It’s easy pussy,” his says to his friends as they pull up to my house. “You can fuck it raw dog and cum in her. She won’t give you any problems or make any babies, promise.”
As they enter my room, the leader pulls me aside to tell me what’s up while his friends await their pleasure impatiently. “I told my guys over here about you. I told them you have the best pussy around. They don’t believe me though,” he said pushing me on my bed and sliding his fingers between my legs.
I was wearing a skirt, what I’ve grown used to wearing these days, and no panties. What’s the point when the guys from the neighborhood are always taking them off. His finger slid right in my yummy slit. It froze in submission. “I need you to spread your legs right here and show them how good you can get their rocks off, ok?” My lips parted, I nodded.
I don’t talk. The guys have trained me to only open my lips if I’m taking a dick in. Besides they know the four guys from around the block were visiting earlier. I don’t have to tell them. They’re dogs. They can smell it.
“That’s a good girl,” he says as he pulls his hefty dick from his pants and shoves in it my mouth. My legs are spread wide open, but I can’t see the other guys. I can only feel my pussy is quickly stretching around something big. “Tighten your pussy up and show them how good it is to fuck.”
I did as I was told. I sucked the leader’s dick with my mouth while my pussy tried real hard to suck the fuck out of his friends’ dicks. The first guy pounded my little hole for just a few moments and moaned just a little when he squirt his cum inside of my body. The second guy didn’t make any noise at all. He dug deep when he buried his seed and spit on my pussy as he pulled out. “Nah, I’ve had better pussy than that, dude. That cunt down the street got that tight pussy, you know. She gets me off much faster.” My legs are still open and my sloppy pussy is still in his face. He spits one more time before stepping away and zipping his pants.
He talks about me like I’m not even in the room. Most of the guys do that. They treat me like I’m hole in the wall… a cum eating hole in a very pretty wall. And I don’t know any better. I don’t know I could say no or even ask for money. This is the life I’ve been raised to accept. Several girls in the neighborhood are like me. We fuck every guy we are told to fuck, and they trained us to love it and not say a word.
My fantasies are beyond nasty, but they turn me on. I swear I don’t want to cum, but I can’t help it. The dildo feels good, my clit is hard and the guys control me. If my orgasm is a puzzle, those are the three necessary pieces.
I climax and fell asleep with the dildo between my legs.
“Morning my love,” my husband says at 7:10am on Saturday morning. “Rise and shine. Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, happy and wise.”
He’s so damn cute. I just adore him. And I have to be honest with him about what I did last night.
“I was a bad girl, babe,” I confess. My pussy was still wet although I did roll over the dildo during the night and wake up long enough to hide it back in the drawer.
“Oh you were?” he smiles. His dick was already erect. Now it’s throbbing.
“You fell asleep and I needed sex. I didn’t plan to cum.” I was lying on my side with my back facing him like a guilty puppy.
“Of course not, you just couldn’t help your little horny self, now could you?” He pushed my top leg to the side and cupped my pussy with his hand. “She’s warm.” His hand was cold. He stuck a finger inside. I’m dripping wet, and he knows exactly why.
Without another word, he shoved himself in. “Oh,” I gasped.
“You just couldn’t help it, you little whore you. You just needed some dick in you. Any dick. You bad little girl. You needed dick. You couldn’t wait for me, now could you?” He chanted as he pumped my plump little pussy. “You couldn’t help yourself. Your little whore pussy needed a dick in it. She needs dick everyday now.”
He reached one hand around the front and slapped my clit several times. “What have you become? You really are the whore you’ve always dreamed of being. You’re just little horny pussy that needs to be fucked constantly. That’s all you are you sexy bitch you, a horny fucking pussy.” He slapped my clit again. The sensation runs through my relaxed body. He’s teasing me and he knows it. I’m not allowed to cum again. It’s my punishment for being a bad girl last night.
I arch my back and squeeze my pussy tight. She’s sucking him to say sorry. He slaps my clit one last time before exploding in me leaving me used and sloppy and wanting more. Fuck.
“That’s all you get, you little whore. Now you better wait for me next time or I won’t be getting you off at all.” If this is tango, he led me into submission. My legs are spread and I’m tracing the floor. My chest is on his, my mind is open and free. He decides when to pull my leg back in, not me.