I’m a modern dance instructor, and a few weeks ago a couple showed up at my modern dance class. They were the absolute picture of ski slopes fitness, the sorts who set the pace at resorts such as Aspen and Vail. I soon learned that they were both in fact competitive skiers and were taking my advanced dance class as part of their regimen to get in shape for the rigors of the upcoming winter ski season.
I talked to them briefly a couple of times and found out they were married. The husband was great looking, but he was a real jerk. The sort of guy who from high school was the captain of this and the captain of that, and it all went to his head. A good looking but cocky asshole who thought he was God’s gift to women.
But the wife was something else. She was sweet and courteous, even a little bit shy and demure. And yet she was every bit as perfect a specimen as her husband, a real beauty. But somehow it didn’t seem as though it had gone to her head.
Naturally, being a gay woman, I focused my attention on her. This tall, incredibly fit ski wife brought a little tingle down below whenever she walked into my dance class. And dressed as she was in her skintight leotard she made my knees weak. The only downer was that she was always accompanied by that jerk of a husband of hers.
While Ingrid — that was her name — was sweetly shy, there was also a very perceptible erotic glow, or radiance, about her, at least so it seemed to be. Plus, there was something about the way she moved. A natural dancer, Ingrid had the physical gracefulness of a well-oiled cat. A strawberry blonde with big hazel eyes, she had the cutest freckles all over her.
I think I would have been attracted and intrigued by her wherever I saw her, but in a dance class everything is highlighted. Women wearing leotards or tights, their bodies covered with the sheen of sweat that comes from vigorous dancing. To many the whole environment reeks of sex. Though I appreciated an attractive man, a well-sculpted, fit, and graceful male body, those bodies did nothing for me, sexually speaking. But it was another story altogether with my female students. It was when I began teaching advanced modern dance and ballet classes, seeing all those good-looking, in-shape women, that I became more and more turned on, more and more promiscuous. I’d pick out one or two lithe beauties in my class and have fantasies about them.
And few women churned up the feverish fantasies in my head more than lovely, sexy Ingrid.
I began to daydream about this tall, young, athletic wife with her slender waist, hard washboard stomach, lovely breasts and legs that went forever. And when I once saw her naked in the locker room after taking a shower my head literally began to spin, I was that excited.
Well, one night Ingrid came to class alone, without her husband. I was thrilled, even though I didn’t quite know why. I had chatted with her a little, but there were never any signs that she could be any more than a fantasy object for me. Still, it was great to see her there without her spouse.
“Hi,” I said in the locker room when I saw her drying herself off after showering. Naturally, seeing her in that state I had to contain myself. “Where’s your husband tonight?”
“Oh, he had to go back East where he’s endorsing some ski equipment,” she said.
She looked at me like she wanted to say something else.
“Can I ask you something?” she finally said. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, and that you won’t be angry. I may be making all this up. But I’ve noticed you’ve been looking at me. And you’ve been looking at me in this — uh– special way. If I’m just making it up, I’m real sorry. But I thought I’d ask…”
She looked down shyly, having trouble continuing.
“Go on,” I urged.
“Well, I was just wondering that maybe you were — oh, it’s so hard for me to say this — I was wondering whether you were maybe — attracted to women?”
I took a deep breath, wondering how to respond. I was a little taken aback that she had noticed this in me, detecting that there was something sexual about the way I gazed at her. Though I often felt that way about women in my class I did my best not to reveal it, to remain professional, and not act as though I was making a pass, or something. But I was also thrilled that all this was coming out.
“Well, actually I am attracted to women,” I confessed.
“You aren’t gay, are you?” she asked.
“I am gay,” I told her bluntly.
“Have you been thinking along those lines yourself?” I asked, trying to be tactful, yet making sure this conversation moved to the direction I desired. “Feeling some sexual attraction to women?”
“Well, as you can see, I’m married and I’m straight and all that. But I’ve always wanted to try being intimate with a woman and to see what that was all about.”
She couldn’t have been more frank, a look of longing on her face.
“Do you think that possibly you could show me? After all, you’re my dance teacher, maybe you can instruct me in some other kinds of — how shall I put it? — vigorous physical activity.”
She took a deep breath. I think she was amazed at herself that she could be as frank, almost brazen as this.
“Maybe I can,” I said as we boldly gazed at each other.
Talk about dreams coming true!
Of course the most amazing thing about all this was that we were actually having this conversation while she was in the nude. I had walked in on her in the locker room just after she had taken her shower and was drying herself off. And that’s the state she was in as she talked to me about the possibility of my introducing her to the pleasures of girl-girl sex.
Now, looking around to make sure no other women were in view, I slid my hand between Ingrid’s legs and squeezed her there gently. She closed her eyes and sighed when she felt that.
“I’m going to make you feel very, very good, Ingrid,” I whispered. “That, I can promise.”
“Oh, I really hope so!” she said longingly, tenderness and anticipation in her voice.
“I will,” I said, leaning over to give her a soft kiss.
“You know, we can go to my place,” she said, “Like I told you, my husband’s out of town.”
“I’d love to go back to your place with you. But first let me go in and shower. That was a hard work-out tonight. You’re nice and clean, but I’m still all funky and sweaty.”
“Oh please, stay like that, just like you are” she said, pulling on my arm. “I’d love it if you stayed the way you are. When you’re teaching class I look at you getting sweaty and I see the stains under your arms and the film of sweat on your back when you turn around. Somehow, seeing you like that excites me a lot.”
So pretty Ingrid had a little fetish for my sweat. Hmmmmm? I began wondering about her.
“Alright then,” I said. “I’ll come back with you all nice and sweaty and funky then.”
The second we were back at her place she was all over me. Since this was to be her first time with a woman I expected she’d be a little hesitant. But that wasn’t true at all. She was inflamed with seemingly unquenchable desire the second we got in the door. She hugged me so tightly and kissed me so intensely, her lips open, her tongue darting into my mouth, that I thought she’d hug the breath out of me. And the way she looked into my eyes as she wrapped her arms around me, surrendering to me, it was as though she needed affection as much as anything. I knew that feeling.
I took her hand and asked her to lead me to her bedroom.
There, we rapidly took off our clothes, both breathless with arousal. Her hazel eyes sparkled, glistened with desire. Gently I pushed her down on my bed, then snuggled alongside her. Again we kissed deeply, tenderly, our hands softly gliding all over each others’ bodies. She spread her legs wide as my fingers traveled downward over her stomach. She was ready! When I touched her pussy I saw that she was already thoroughly wet down there.
“I’m going to make you feel so good!” I whispered.
Slowly I brought my lips down to her neck. She smelled so sweet after her shower and her skin was smooth and silky. When my lips moved towards her breasts, she moaned so longingly it almost broke my heart. She had beautiful breasts and tiny, dark nipples, a strange contrast to her pale skin. I tantalized her, slowly kissing and licking every inch of each of her breasts and sucking on both nipples. Her breath was heavy now as she pressed my head against her breasts.
“Yes! Yes!” she murmured, her eyes closed tightly, her face in a grimace that almost looked like pain, but which I knew was the intense need to be satisfied, to be overwhelmed with affection and the joys of new pleasures.
My lips moved further down as I licked her navel, then further as I felt the curls of her pubic hair against my lips.
“Ohhh!” she panted uncontrollably.
Now I was between her legs, staring at her pussy. She had a pretty pussy too, very small, with perfectly etched labia. And at the cleft stood her clit, glossy and round as a sweet pea. I kissed that sensitive pea very gently and, as I did, her whole body trembled.
“Oh, yes… yes!” she murmured, her desires finally being fulfilled. I feasted on her now. I devoured her, I consumed her! She was grinding her pelvis wildly against my probing tongue, begging for it! Desperate for it!
“Oh… it’s so good… it feels so good!” she panted.
I showed off my cunnilingual mastery until she literally exploded under the caresses of my lips and tongue, a blistering climax overwhelming her.
I came back up to her face and we kissed, Ingrid savoring the wetness of her own pussy on my lips.
“That was the best. I’ve never felt so good, never!” she said, shaking her head in wonderment, her eyes wide with the recognition that she had just been taken to a new height of pleasure. Her husband looked so rugged and so masculine. But these vain, egotistical guys often make lousy lovers. Like many other very attractive women, Ingrid may actually have experienced much less pleasure in her lovemaking than one would expect just on the basis of her beauty and her obvious sexual allure.
“That was nice, making you feel so good,” I said, kissing her, her lips opening at the touch of mine, our tongues searching for each other, our breath sweet and hot and intimate.
“Now I want to make love to you,” she said excitedly.
Straight women who do it for the very first time with other women, that’s what they really wait for. They’ve usually had their pussies eaten plenty, though by men. But what they’re intensely curious about is tasting another woman’s cunt. Since she had begged me, I had refrained from showering and my whole body was still sticky with sweat. Normally that would have made me a little self-conscious in such an intimate situation as this, especially with a new lover, but that’s the way Ingrid wanted me, sweat-drenched, funky, and unwashed.
Now she surprised me by lifting my arm and licking me under there, where I was especially wet and salty. This was a first. No one had ever licked my underarm before, all sweaty and funky like this. She really slurped away at me there, greedy for the taste of my sweat. When she had lapped away under one arm, she moved to the other.
Then now ran her tongue all over my body, kissing me and licking with a raw, hungry passion that was a revelation. I thought I was beginning to understand something about her. The first sign was her shyness, the way she looked down meekly when she asked me something. And then that longing, almost submissive gaze in her eyes. And asking me not to shower, to remain sweaty and funky. I knew enough about various sorts of kinky tastes in sex and intimacy to know that these were signs of sexually submissive behavior, of wanting to ‘worship’ a lover’s body.
This was a first for me, not only to be with a passive lover like this, but for her to be a beautiful woman enjoying sex with another woman for the very first time. I’d never been with a woman who’d never had sex with another female.
She glided her tongue down my legs until she got to my feet, then she took a deep breath and consumed every inch of both my feet, licking the soles, sucking on each one of my toes.
And then, finally, she spread apart my legs and brought her face between them, about to lick me. But I stopped her.
“Do you know where I’m really all sweaty and sticky?” I asked.
“No, where?” she said, panting softly, a slavish excitement in her eyes.
“Right there,” I said, turning on my belly and pointing between my ass cheeks. “Right in there.”
“Oh God!” she gasped as she realized what I was offering to her… my ass.
“Dig in and enjoy it,” I said, holding myself open for her.
She couldn’t wait as she buried her face in the damp crevice between my buttocks, licking away at that warm briny crease, her smooth cheeks rubbing against my sticky buttocks.
“Ask me to do it,” she begged. “Make me do it.”
So it was true, there was a submissive streak to Ingrid.
“Lick my ass!” I shouted. “Lick it! Lick my sweaty asshole! Show me how much you love it!”
I reached back to press her face forcefully between my ass cheeks as she probed with her tongue.
“I’m all sweaty down there from all that vigorous dancing and you’re licking it and loving it, aren’t you?” I said.
“Yes, yes…” she said.
“Yes what?” I asked.
“Yes, I love licking your sweaty… your…” she hesitated, unable to mouth the words.
“My sweaty asshole!” I said.
“Yes, yes… your asshole! Your sweaty… uh… uh… shithole!” she gasped, returning to it.
Just that she used the word ‘shithole,’ and said it so very excitedly told me something.
I thought I would try something else now, and so pushed her away from me and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Get over my knees, right now!” I barked.
She eagerly draped herself over my knees. I looked down at her luscious ass, the skin taut over her firm buttocks.
“You’re a nasty girl, aren’t you? Begging to lick my funky feet and my sweaty shithole?” I cackled.
“Yes, yes, I’m nasty, I’m bad!” she said, turning to look at me with a meek but profoundly longing gaze.
“Bad girls need to be punished,” I said as I brought the flat of my hand down on her buttocks and began spanking her.
“Oh yes! Oh yes!” she said, unable to contain her excitement at this fulfillment of an obvious fantasy. I was amazed at what I was doing — spanking the perfect bottom of a beautiful young wife who was draped over my knees. The road to infidelity can lead to all sorts of twists and turns, she must’ve been thinking.
After both her buttocks were appealingly pink, I got back on the bed and spread my legs.
“Now you may lick my pussy,” I told her, pointing to it. “Here it is for you to worship.”
She stared at it like it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. Which, at that moment, it may very well have been.
As I’ve mentioned, I have a dense, thick tangle of pubic hair down between my legs so, naturally, when I dance and sweat my pubic bush almost acts as a sponge, soaking up the sweat. And, with my intense arousal added to this, I was soaked down there as I think I never had been before.
“Go on, suck the sweat out of my bush,” I said, pressing her head down firmly. She took patches of my pubic hair between her lips and sucked them as you would suck the juice out of a mango. Then she dug deeper, lapping away at my briny cunt. She was raw and awkward and a little jagged in her moves. Partly this was the excitement, and partly it was just that she was a novice at what she was doing.
But there was something thrilling about the awkward way she licked me down there and that, more than her technique, was what was now turning me on so much.
She was almost out of control down in my pussy. It was as though she wanted to lose herself down there, to bury her face in all that wet… salty… aroused female flesh forever.
I let her luxuriate in my dampness until, finally, many minutes later, I felt that surge of electric pleasure as she finally made me climax.
“How was I? Was I okay?” she asked.
“You were fine Ingrid,” I told her.
“No, I wasn’t. I’ve never done that, I don’t know how yet,” she insisted.
I stroked her hair gently.
“You were fine, Ingrid. It’s like you say, you’re new to it. But you made me have an orgasm. Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Will you… will you be my teacher?” she asked with pleading eyes.
“Sure, Ingrid, I’ll be your teacher,” I said reassuringly.
“Oh good!” she said girlishly. “Now I’m not just going to take dance class with you.”
“No, you’re going to take beginning, intermediate and advanced cunnilingus. By the time I’m through with you you’ll be ready to give instruction of your own.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”
Suddenly her eyes lit up.
“You do?! Really?!”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, but couldn’t help notice not only Ingrid’s interest at hearing this prosaic bit of news, but her excitement.
“C– c– can I come in with you and– and– watch?” she stuttered.
“You want to watch me use the toilet?” I probed.
“Uh huh” she whispered, almost breathless with nervous excitement.
“Watch me pee?”
But peeing was not the only thing I needed to do.
“Watch me shit too?”
Her eyes went wide; she was nearly panting.
“Oh god yes!” she exclaimed.
I played some pee games with a woman once. But this was new, this was different. But for some reason it suddenly turned me on. Maybe it was just Ingrid, this gorgeous young wife with her strange lusts. Or maybe a new lust I never knew I had was being unleashed in me.
“Where’s your bathroom?” I asked, and followed her into it, Ingrid so excited I could hear her breathing behind me.
I plopped my sexy bare ass down on the toilet seat and spread my legs provocatively as Ingrid knelt down, her eyes wide open, unblinking.
“What do you want to watch me do now?” I purred teasingly.
“Pee,” she whispered. I thought I could hear her heart beating.
“Like this,” I said, as I began to urinate, a powerful stream leaving my peehole as I held my labia wide open so she’d have a perfect view.
“Oh my god!” she gasped, nearly trembling, and I knew was a dream come true for her. She’d been probably nursing such fetishes, licking another woman’s sweaty pussy and ass, submitting to another woman’s discipline, and now these suddenly revealed toilet desires.
“Can I feel it?” she asked, looking up at my with pleading, expectant eyes, reaching a hand out, wanting to lower it under my flow, under the gushing golden stream of urine.
“Sure,” I said soothingly, pissing away, looking down at her, watching.
She slid a hand under, palm up, and now I was pissing over her fingers. She cupped that hand, collecting my piss, and brought it up to her mouth to taste.
“Ingrid,” I said, reaching down and wrapping a hand behind her head, pulling her close, “go ahead and drink it straight from the source.”
Eyes sparkling with breathless excitement she opened her mouth right under my mouth as I pissed between her lips, she craving the nectar.
“You love my piss, don’t you?”
She nodded, drinking, pee spilling out of the corners of her mouth.
I had a lot in me. In fact when we first came back to her place I had intended to use the toilet, to pee and to shit and then maybe to ask again to shower before we got into anything. But Ingrid just couldn’t wait to get her eager hands on me.
Finally the stream turned into a trickle.
“And now I think you know what I need to do next,” I said teasingly.
“Uh yeah,” she said, still breathless, swallowing, “to sh– sh–shit!”
“Yes, to shit, Ingrid, to shit just for you!”
I could feel how full I was inside and was good and ready and about to start, when Ingrid stopped me with a beseeching look and a hand on my thigh.
Would you– would you mind turning around on the toilet seat so I could– could see it– see it come out?” she asked, an almost pained look on her face.
This was all very strange, but somehow suddenly rather alluring. I was always an experimental, uninhibited sort, with a taste for kink.
“Sure, no problem,” I said, lifting my ass off the toilet seat, turning and straddling the seat in reverse with my back to Ingrid. And knowing she wanted most of all to see it, I didn’t lower my bottom all the way to the toilet seat and sit on it, but squatted over the toilet with my still sweaty (and well-licked) asshole vividly and fully exposed to her view.
I had never been particularly shy using a toilet in front of another girl, Maybe that’s because when I was a girl my parents lived in England for a few years and I was sent to a boarding school where the girls used open toilet stalls. But never before had I taken a shit with another woman’s face only a few inches from my anus, staring straight ahead!
“Here goes,” I said, a little amazed at all this, at what I was about to do.
And then I started to squeeze out what I could feel was a really big, fat log of shit. It was going to be one of those kinds of shit. I was glad of it, and I had a feeling that Ingrid, kneeling behind me and gazing was happy too.
As my anus dilated and the shit began to come out, the brown to show vividly, Ingrid just plain out gasped in amazement, as though she suddenly beheld some wonder of nature. And perhaps for her my shitting was just that.
“So beautiful,” she whispered, tenderness in her voice as I smiled.
“You think my shit is beautiful?” I said as I kept on shitting
“Oh yes!” she said enthusiastically, “it turns me on so much to see it, to see it come out of your ass, to see you shit. C– c– can I t- t- touch it?”
“You want to touch my shit” I said in wonder, the long log still coming out.
“Yes, yes, I want to touch it.”
“Well go ahead and touch it then,” I urged her.
I could look over to a mirror she had leaning against the wall and see to my side, see Ingrid behind me, tentatively reaching out her fingers, see the brown log emerging from my ass, surprised how big and vivid it looked from this angle. And then Ingrid was touching it, slowly running her fingertips up and down the length of the big, greasy brown turd. She said nothing. But her eyes were wide open, mesmerized.
“Do you– do you– think I could lick it too?” she asked almost pleadingly, her voice broken. She had just open her mouth wide top take my piss so I was not altogether shocked by this request.
“Sure Ingrid, go ahead and lick it, lick my shit,” I told her, boldness in my voice, urging her one. “Go ahead an lick that log, hot and fresh from the oven”
Excitedly, she leaned her face closer and now was dragging her tongue where she had moments ago dragged her fingers. And I could feel that tongue too when it encircled the dilated rim of my asshole, just where the shit came out, Ingrid licking anus and shit with eager flickers of her tongue.
As I kept shitting, she kept lapping away at my shit with her tongue until, finally, I had emptied my bowels, squeezing out a few more big logs after that first one, Ingrid greedily licking each as it came out of me. She even wrapped her lips around the last one as I pushed it out, giving it a little suck, as you would suck a dildo strapped to a girl.
This young wife, so shy at first, and yet so thrilled, proved to be a very dirty woman indeed and I couldn’t help teasingly reminding her of this fact.
“Down on your knees, sucking my shit, if only others could see you.”
“Oh God! Don’t even say that,” she gasped, blushing, then giggling like a slightly guilty but happily wicked schoolgirl sharing a secret with another.
Finished using the toilet, finished peeing and shitting, I reached for the roll of toilet paper. But Ingrid gently took hold of my wrist, stopping me.
“Let me lick you clean,” she said, “can I?”
“Of course you can,” I said, standing up off the toilet as Ingrid, down on her knees, took her sweet time, took many long minutes licking clean my urine-soaked pubic bush and pissy pussy, and then my sticky, brown anus.
Finally she stood up and looked at me, her eyes wide, almost in a trance, her face messy as a careless little girl’s, wet with my pee and smudged brown with my shit. She even stick out her tongue like a schoolgirl, coyly but a little lewdly, letting me see it was coated brown from the cleaning.
Somehow she looked so utterly, deliciously desirable, wanton and yet demure, a lovely, happy beauty whose simple depravities were just unleashed.
That look on her face was priceless as were her next words, so lovingly spoken.
“Kiss me, please kiss me…”
She was asking me to kiss her, kiss her after she licked me clean, licked the pee off my pussy and the shit off my hole. Could I, would I do this? Taste my own funky wastes on this beauty’s lips, her tongue? I thought of myself as a very seasoned, seductive, sexualized and uninhibited woman. But this was new to me, this was definitely out of the ordinary.
But now, staring into those big liquid hazel eyes, enraptured by that tender, loving, craving, almost desperate gaze I couldn’t help myself as I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her warm smooth body to mine, feeling her breasts against my own as I pressed my lips to hers and kissed her, kissed Ingrid, kissed her passionately, mouths opening, tongues swirling, tasting myself, tasting what I had excreted from my body, the piss, the shit, what Ingrid so longingly craved, sharing this profound intimacy we now shared. Two women.