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The following Saturday, Elaine told me that I’d have the house to myself that night – she and Katie were going to my sister’s to help with our nephew’s birthday party. He was turning six.
I offered to go along, but Elaine turned me down. “Really?” she asked, “Do you want to get stuck with the job of supervising “Pop Goes the Weasel” and doling out cake to a bunch of six year olds? Katie and I can handle it – believe me, we’re doing you a favor.” Before she left, she added, “Don’t expect us back this evening – your sister drafted us to help clean up afterwards, so we’re going to spend the night.” Then they were off.
I settled down to what looked like a quiet Sunday night – maybe a frozen dinner followed by reading. On the other hand, I had an urge for over-the-top action flicks. It was tough to decide.
At six o’clock on the dot the doorbell rang. When I answered it, I saw a slim young woman with light brown hair, maybe eighteen or twenty years old, wearing a flaring skirt and a skin-tight top with a V-neck collar that emphasized lovely braless tits. She was carrying a boom box by the handle.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m a friend of Katie’s,” she said.
Frankly, I was surprised. Other than Randi, I couldn’t think of any friends that Katie had. It had been years since anyone other than Randi had visited Katie at our house. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sure Katie would be happy to find out that you stopped by, but I’m afraid . . .”
“I’ll wait,” she said, and brushed past me into the house.
I was dumbfounded, but I wanted to be as polite as possible. The last thing I wanted was to be rude to the first visitor that Katie’d had in years. I closed the door and started to walk toward her to the dining room to explain that Katie wouldn’t be back till tomorrow. But the door was barely closed when the doorbell rang again.
It was another girl, also about Katie’s age. She was carrying what looked like Chinese take-away cartons. “Yes?” I asked.
“I’m here for the recital,” she said simply, and walked past me into the house. She and the first girl evidently knew each other, because they immediately started chatting as soon as they saw each other.
Mystified, I was just closing the door for a second time when I saw another car parked in front of the house with two more girls getting out. This time I recognized one of them: the gorgeous little freckle-faced redhead who had made such a spectacle of herself at Madame Therese’s dance studio, jumping into an older man’s arms and humping up and down in a pantomime of sex in front of the rest of the dance class. Looking at the other girl with her, a tall blonde with long straight hair that came down almost a foot past her shoulders, I realized that she, too, came from the dance class.
Now I turned back into my house interior and realized that I had seen all four girls at Katie’s dance school. They were dressed in similar, almost matching wraparound skirts and leotard tops, the same sort of outfit that they commonly wore to Madame Therese’s dance classes. The leotards typically stayed on during class, while the skirts were easily doffed during the class sessions and could easily be put back on before going home. Katie herself had worn the same sort of outfit for years when we dropped her off for dance class – until, that is, her tits started developing and her shyness overwhelmed her and she began wearing army tents as clothing.
The two new girls walked up to the door and the freckly little redhead, hardly more than five feet tall, introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Bree,” she said, putting on a lilting, coquettish, little girl voice. She lowered her face and smiled upward into my eyes in a pseudo-innocent yet knowing manner as she added, “Are you my new Daddy?”
Her “I’m-so-innocent-and-bashful” act was amazing. Amazingly erotic, that is. I can honestly say that those few words from her mouth actually made my loins ache. My eyes widened and my cock immediately began to swell. Completely at a loss for words, I silently stood aside and gestured with my arm welcoming them in.
They immediately got to work setting up . . . whatever the hell it was they were planning to do. Working in pairs, they went throughout the adjoining living and dining rooms, moving the dining room table and chairs against the wall, then doing the same to the easy chair, the TV, the coffee table and the couch. Within a couple of minutes they had turned the two rooms, connected by a doorless entryway, into a relatively large open space with all the furniture pushed against the walls.
While they worked, I had a chance to look them over. Bree, the curly-haired redhead, was the smallest of the group, but only by a bit. She and another girl, a dark haired beauty whom I later learned was named Michelle, both had extremely petite builds. They were slim, barely over five feet tall, with small breasts and so light on their feet they looked as if you could lift either of bursa escort them with one hand – the perfect build for certain dance movements where a male partner might lift the female dancer in the air, or support her while she performs certain movements.
The other girls were equally svelte, but much taller. The blonde, Petra, was tall with breathtakingly long legs and much more substantial breasts than the other girls, maybe a D-cup. Her extraordinarily long straight blonde hair framed a slim, light complexioned face with sharp, yet delicate features. The fourth girl, Sarah, a brunette, had medium sized breasts and one of those asses that are so round and stood out from her back so prominently that it was almost impossible to take your eyes off her as soon as she turned her back – if it weren’t, that is, for the fact that in this situation she was surrounded by other, equally beautiful eighteen year old girls.
“May I ask what you young ladies are doing here?” I asked while they rearranged the furniture.
“Your wife had a talk with Madame Therese,” Petra said. “She said you had doubts about whether to put your daughter Katie in the advanced adult dance class.”
“We’ve taken dance classes with Katie for the last few years, up until we graduated to Madame Therese’s special class,” Michelle added as she lifted a table lamp and carefully moved it to the other room. “I know that Katie doesn’t socialize much, but all us other students in the class do like her. We think it’d be cool if she joined us in the advanced class.”
Then Bree spoke up. “The four of us talked it over. We thought maybe if you saw the sort of stuff we’re working on, you’d decide that Katie should go into the advanced work.”
What they were saying only partly made sense. A few hours after my meeting with Madame Therese – after, that is, I had driven home like a maniac from her studio and had rid myself of my blue balls by fucking the hell out of my wife right in front of our daughter – I ended up telling my wife all about Madame Therese’s “advanced” class of eighteen year old dance students who traded off going home with each others’ fathers each week.
It’s true that I had some misgivings about signing Katie up for the class. On the one hand, the thought of fucking a different beautiful, barely legal teen each week was so incredible that just thinking about it gave me a hard-on. On the other hand, Katie was a virgin, and despite all the shenanigans that Elaine and I had been engaging in with her, I had promised Elaine that I would not fuck our daughter. Yet I was damned if I would hand my daughter over to a cadre of other men to take her cherry, even if, in exchange, I would get to fuck each of their daughters week after week.
Now, it seemed, these girls were under the impression that I was morally opposed to having Katie join the class. Apparently, my wife Elaine had talked to the dance instructor and told her that I needed to be “convinced” to let Katie join this group of dancing nymphets. I realized that it was far from a coincidence that Elaine and Katie happened to be out of the house for the whole evening on the night that these girls came over to demonstrate their dance skills.
This was going to be an interesting evening.
One of the girls connected an iPad to the boom box and started up what was clearly a playlist that the girls had worked out beforehand. I recognized an unusual piece of music, an excerpt from John Adams’ opera “Nixon in China”, a truly weird and brilliant piece of modern music.
One of the interesting things about raising kids is the odd way that one choice affects kids in unexpected ways. Take music, for example. If you give a kid violin lessons, the kid will naturally gravitate toward liking classical music. If you give him a sax or a trumpet, the next thing you know he’ll start listening to big band music or jazz. And we all know what happens if you give a kid an electric guitar: you’ll be subjected to listening to “Smoke on the Water” for the next ten years.
Sending Katie to dance class all those years ago had a broad effect on the music we heard around the house. When she studied ballet, the music that wafted down the hall from her room was all classical. When she moved on to popular dance, we heard salsa and bebop coming from her stereo. And when she studied modern dance, we learned about modern classical music – including John Adams’ atonal, nearly rhythm-free post-post-post-modern musical creations. It took some getting used to, but after awhile I kinda got to like it, though I never did figure out how Madame Therese taught anyone to dance to it.
Yet here they were. The girls directed me to a spot in the middle of the couch with a view of both the living and dining room areas, then positioned themselves in different corners of the room in various poses. Gradually, as the herky-jerky discordant tones of the opera filled the room, they unfurled themselves from their positions at the bursa escort bayan periphery and moved toward the center. While Madame Mao sang her aria about ruling China, then Nixon sang about the evening news, the four dancers came together at last, sometimes moving separately, sometimes together in a complex movement that was mesmerizing to watch.
As I became immersed in the performance, I forgot all about the kinky aspects of Madame Therese’s advanced class for sexually promiscuous, barely adult female dancers and their horny fathers. These girls were more than good dancers – their performance was totally engrossing and worthy of a professional stage. And Madame Therese was one hell of a choreographer. Within a few minutes, I was literally sitting on the edge of my seat, my eyes going from one girl to the other watching the intricate, beautifully executed choreography. The girls were just as strikingly beautiful as the moment when they had pranced in my door, but now I saw a dedication to art that took my breath away.
After the piece ended I couldn’t help but stand and applaud. The girls beamed at me, seeing my appreciation of the hard work they’d put into the piece. Then, while I was still standing, the tall leggy blonde, Petra, took my hand and led me to the center of the room.
“This is the audience participation portion of the performance,” she said as a salsa piece started playing. I guessed that either Elaine or Katie had passed the word that I enjoyed dancing on occasion, and that my favorite dance music was swing and salsa.
Within seconds, Petra and I were in the middle of the room dancing together while the two petite girls, Bree and Michelle, paired off and danced similar steps beside us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the remaining girl, Sarah, went about the room repositioning table lamps and softening the lighting so that it was more appropriate for an evening of dance.
Petra was an amazing dance partner, one of the most responsive I’ve ever danced with. She read subtle cues in my movements and was able to answer to my shifts the instant that I started them. Her long straight blonde hair flew around her like a golden aura while we danced, often falling around her front and drawing attention to gorgeous large breasts that jiggled with each swaying movement.
After a minute or two of our getting musically acquainted, Bree cut in, and I was treated to the smaller red-haired girl’s more aggressive, vibrant style. She was so small that she knew it was easy for men to move her about on the dance floor, and so she flung herself into the role, encouraging me to swing her about much more athletically.
The music shifted from salsa to swing and from there to bebop. Despite the fact that swing dancing is meant to be done with only one dancer and his partner, by this time, the four girls and I – thanks, I admit, to their skill more than mine as dancers – had developed an open dancing rhythm where I danced with one, then another, then another almost seamlessly. Sometimes we held each other closely while we twirled, while other times I swung the girls in the sort of wild jitterbug moves that were so crazy I thought sometimes that my beautiful young partners would fly off into space if I let go. Injected into the excitement of the dance itself was the physical closeness of the beautiful young, available girls and the promise that this wonderful dancing was only the prelude.
I was incredibly horny and getting hornier by the minute, and yet I didn’t feel the urge to hurry things. I knew exactly where everything was going – that I was going to fuck each of these beautiful creatures before the night was over – but I was thoroughly enjoying the pure act of dancing with such wonderful and enticing dancers. Dancing with a woman is itself a sexual tease, I thought to myself, and this was the best dance and the best tease I had ever experienced.
At one point, while we were dancing very close together, Petra whispered in my ear, “Your belt buckle is chafing against me. Why don’t you take off your pants, Daddy?” She licked my ear lobe for emphasis.
I pulled my face back to look in her eyes and saw that she had a bright-eyed smile. We paused for a moment while the music swirled around us, and she reached between my legs to undo my belt and zipper. In a moment, I felt other hands on my waist and then several hands pulled my pants off. When I stepped out of them, one of the girls picked up my rumpled pants off the floor and threw them across the room onto the table.
“Ooh! You ARE a big Daddy, aren’t you?” cooed Sarah, standing beside me. “Madame Therese said we’d be happy with you joining the class. Now I see what she meant!”
The dancing entered a new phase. The girls kept their skirts on, but stripped off their panties and their leotard tops, leaving their delicious young breasts for me to touch and brush against while we danced. Yet at the same time the wraparound skirts still escort bursa twirled and flounced with their dance moves.
The Andrews Sisters classic “Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar” came on. All four eighteen year old girls danced topless while I danced bottomless, my increasingly hard dick swinging (rather uncomfortably, to be honest) in all directions while we danced. When my body came together with each girl, she rubbed herself more against me, while I took the opportunity to briefly caress their soft tits whenever our bodies converged during our dance steps. Each girl took the chance to stroke my cock briefly every few dance moves.
Then Bree joined me again. With her more athletic style, she decided to pull the jitterbug move in which she jumped in my arms to the rhythm of the music. She threw her legs around my torso. Her skirt flew up with the rapidity of her movement, so that my hard-on rested against the bottom of her ass. I could feel that she wore no panties.
Normally in jitterbugging, a move like that would only last for an instant and the dancers would transition to another dance move from there. But Bree continued to hold that position in my arms, bouncing up and down so that her delectable bare ass met my cock over and over in time with the music. The feel of her perfect soft ass brushing against my cock felt like an electrical spark jumping between our bodies over and over with each rise and fall of her ass touching me. Each time her ass touched my cock was better than the last. Her small tits rubbed against me over and over. Bree’s bright red hair flew in all directions so that it formed a fiery haze through which I could see the rest of the room and the other girls clapping and dancing in time with the music and Bree’s gyrations. And when the Andrews Sisters’ musical chorus came up, Bree chimed in with her own variation: “Fuck me, Daddy – Eight to the bar!”
I took that as my cue to move to the next step. Still supporting her with one hand, I reached under her with my other hand and started awkwardly guiding my cock into her pussy. I was aided by an extra pair of hands that suddenly intervened while a voice whispered in my ear, “Let me help you with that, Daddy.”
My cock entered heaven. Bree was tight but already wet, and within a couple of seconds she was bouncing on my dick in time with the rapid beat of the boogie woogie.
“Oh Yeah!” she screamed. “Fuck me Daddy!”
My fantasy had come true. A few days earlier, I had watched this same crazy freckle-faced little vixen with the lion’s mane of curly red hair bouncing up and down in the arms of another girl’s father, squealing and laughing while she flaunted her sexuality to a roomful of fellow teenage girls and their fathers. Seeing her wanton sexual display, I had wanted to take that man’s place and fuck her standing up while a harem of young girls watched.
Now it was happening and it was even better than I had dreamt. Bree was incredibly tight. She had perfect control not only of the limbs she used in dancing, but also of the muscles of her thighs, abdomen and vagina. It enabled her to twerk her tiny, toned body relentlessly up and down on my cock, sometimes corkscrewing her hips and tightening her muscles so that I felt as if there was a traveling pulse up and down my shaft. Meanwhile, her friends stroked my ass and snaked their hands up my shirt to caress my chest while I lifted Bree’s limber body up and down on my pole, over and over and over.
“I’m next!” cried Michelle.
“Fuck me too, Daddy!” said Sarah.
“Big dick Daddy!” cried Petra. “Fuck us all!”
The music shifted to a pounding, relentless trance beat. Bree was tireless and insatiable. Inside that compact dancer’s body was some sort of unquenchable fiery lust reflected in her fiery red hair. My spine arched back as I held Bree up by her soft round ass and repeatedly thrust upward, banging her as hard as I could. I roared out an inarticulate bellow reflecting my happiness and pride at publicly fucking this incredible bundle of raw sexuality. Meanwhile Bree kept up the seemingly impossible act of fucking me in time with the rapid tempo of the music and simultaneously twisting her pelvis in synch with the song – she was dancing on my pole! Dancing!
“Sweet Jesus, Daddy – Fuck me forever!” she screamed. “Your cock is so big! I LOVE BIG COCKS!”
Standing there with my feet braced apart in my living room with a beautiful, sexy girl’s ass in my hands, with her happily humping up and down, up and down non-stop on my cock and tittering and squealing for more at the top of her lungs, gave me one of the most incredible rushes I’d ever felt. I especially loved the fact that I was exhibiting myself sexually to three other horny dancers who surrounded us and cheered us on. While Bree and I fucked, the other beautiful, sexy teens danced around us in happy tribute to my cock, a pagan, orgiastic ritual of fertile teenage desire for my big dick. All of them were begging to be fucked by me. Soon it would be their turn. Tonight, I thought to myself as I stood before them and pumped my cock into their nympho fucktoy friend before their eyes, I would fuck them all and they would worship my cock together.
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