A Game of Sexual Tension

At first Mary seemed in danger of having her trepidation win out. Indeed, when, with her leg still on the barre, she examined her reflection more carefully, she realized that her breasts were not the only intimate part of her anatomy which would be on view: at the top of her stretched groin, the outline of her labia was clearly imprinted on the stretched fabric of her leotard. Of course, she had often noticed that a hint of the details below showed through even when she was wearing panties, but what she saw now was much more than a hint. If the reflected image caused her so much concern, how was she going to react when, as it was sure to be, her leg as being stretched to its limit while she was clasped in the powerful arms of either the dance instructor or one of her other dance partners? Either her barely covered crotch would be being crushed against the body of her partner or it would be being put on display, and neither eventuality was one Mary could contemplate with equanimity.

I could well appreciate the tumultuous emotions which swept over Mary when she recognized just how thoroughly exposed she was going to be for the next hour. In fact, even though the events she was describing were long over, I shared both her excitement and her trepidation about them. To communicate my emotions to Mary, I abandoned her left breast, shifted my position so that I was sitting by her hips, and turned my attentions to the region about which she was talking. After coaxing her thighs apart, I spread her labia and, while my thumb and little finger held them open, I used my index finger to tap on the tip of her clitoris with a measured beat which was far too light and slow to provoke an orgasm but was more than sufficient to remind her just how vulnerable she had been and still was.

The action of my fingers in her crotch combined with that of the pump on her breast to make it impossible for Mary to keep a tremor out of her voice as she continued her story. Nonetheless, continue she did. After she had finished her warm-up exercises at the barre, the instructor came over to work with her. From the smile on his face, she could tell that he knew her vulnerability and had no compunctions about taking advantage of it. In fact, without further ado, he asked her to lean against the wall while he slowly raised her right leg to his shoulder. As her tendons loosened, he moved closer to her until her fully stretched thigh was supported against his chest and his hands grazed against the increasingly damp material of her leotard. When he had her leg as high as it had ever been, he looked directly into her eyes and put his left hand on her right arm to stabilize her while he relentlessly increased the pressure he was exerting on her leg. After several minutes, the muscles in Mary's right leg began to tremble and, in an effort to give them some relief, she raised her herself on the toes of her left foot. At first this maneuver provided her some respite. However, her left leg soon became as exhausted as her right, with the result that she lost her balance and collapsed into waiting arms of her instructor. Weak from the stress of having her limbs stretched, Mary allowed her instructor to mold her body to himself, and, much to her own surprise, she reacted with relief rather anger even when his hand ``accidently'' caressed on her breast as he was shifting her position.

Because my own agitation increased steadily as Mary related this scene, I steadily increased the tempo of my tapping on her clitoris until, because it had become impossible for her to concentrate adequately on what she was saying, she broke off her narration and, with tightly closed eyes, turned her head from side to side as she gasped in tantalized frustration. Pleased to have found such an appropriate and effective way to convey the sense of frustration her story induced in me, I continued to strum her stalk of pleasure for the slightly sadistic purpose of suspending her just below the threshold at which she could achieve orgasm. Having kept her in this state for several minutes, I relented, and, after fetching a towel, I wiped the sweat off her furrowed brow and trembling body. I then released her right breast from its travail, installed the milking cup on her left breast, and set the pump to work again, this time at a level which forced the areola to completely fill the bulge. Both of us were impressed by the consequences to Mary's right breast of having spent close to half an hour at the mercy of the breast pump. Not only was her breast a livid pink, but the areola appeared to have expanded to twice its normal size and her nipple resembled a dug at which a hungry mouth had been sucking. In fascination, I ran my fingers over its surface and discovered that the machine seemed to have left it both more malleable and more sensitive than usual. In particular, her nipple appeared to have been temporarily elongated and, when I bent it back and forth, gave Mary the sort of profound sense of comfort which a cow must feel while her calf suckles a teat.

Although she was still in a state of extreme excitement, by the time I had reversed the roles of her breasts and had satisfied my curiosity about the breast I had released, Mary was again able to resume her account of events at her dance class while I continued to intermittently sooth and worry her recently transformed nipple. Her dance instructor took his time making a not entirely covert examination of her body. Without losing contact, His hands descended from her breasts down her torso to the bulge of her stomach, where he took the opportunity to enjoy the hollow at her navel and then test tone of her abdominal muscles. However, after palpating her abdomen, his sense of propriety prevented him from descending further, and he released her with a less than innocent peck on the forehead.

Confused, excited, and scared, Mary went to join her classmates who were arranging themselves in a line facing the wall mirror. Like a conductor, her instructor stood in front of the them with his back to the audience in the mirror. He then had them go through a series of exercises. Once she had reconciled herself to the fact that the reflection of her body was going to savored by every male in the class, the exercises which were relatively static caused Mary only minor embarrassment. In fact, after a while, she was able to derive real pleasure from the power her evolving image in the mirror had over her male classmates. However, when the exercises required that she leap, she was mortified by the show given her wildly bouncing breasts. Many ballerinas have pancakes for breasts, and even their breasts will be set in motion by the impact of landing. By comparison, Mary's breasts are succulent fruits on which gravity is able to act with a vengeance. Thus, with each leap, Mary's breasts could be seen to first become firm mounds on her chest as she ascended and then to perform a dance of their own upon her descent. Furthermore, her consternation increased rather than decreased with time. At the beginning of the exercises, her leotard acted as a veil. However, when sweat started poring from her body, what had been a veil became a second skin, and, as a consequence, no detail of her body was missing from the image in the mirror. Defiantly, Mary persevered in spite of her increasing embarrassment. The only time when her resolve came close to failing her was when the class broke into pairs, and she had to submit her essentially naked body to the hands of her partner so that he could hold her in various poses and occasionally lift her into the air.

When she arrived at this point in her tale, Mary told me that, except for some variations and repetitions, there was little else for her to tell me. Not only did I believe what she said, I knew and shared Mary's understandable desire to bring our game to consummation. Thus, after removing my own clothes, I went to the foot of the bed and, taking advantage of her dancer's limberness, raised Mary's legs until her thighs rested against the sides of her ribs. In this position, her buttock and the backs of her thighs resemble the cross-section of a pear which has been split down the middle, with her crotch replacing the hallow in which pear seeds reside. Moreover, this position renders all the most intimate parts of Mary's anatomy completely available to me. Thus, it took me no time at all to bring her clitoris back to the state in which I had abandoned it earlier, and having done so, I pressed my shoulders against her calves and, much to our mutual relief, entered her.

Besides the aesthetic pleasure which I derive from folding Mary into this position, I chose to do so at this point in order to prolong our game. Namely, folding her legs as I had distorts Mary's vagina so that it grips me in a way which enhances our pleasure and, simultaneously, inhibits completion. Hence, in spite our overwrought state and the unflagging contribution of the pump on Mary's left breast, considerable time passed before we reached our goal.

Needless to say, both of us considered the game a success. On the other hand, neither of us was keen on having a repeat match.