Bianca and Her Whores

When you wake up one day and ask yourself 'why am I here?' you are finally breaking through the mystical cloud of numbness. There are those who never wake up and go through life solely for the purpose of procreation. They brag about how big a cock they have, or use bra cup sizes to determine a woman's worth. But then we have Francis, a guy who enriches people's lives by teaching ballroom dancing.

Being horny, not lecherous, is a good thing because a woman loves you based on your level of horniness. If you're a crazy person who will fuck anything that moves, you are not, as we say, very discerning. You do not want to fuck a goat, or a corpse. You need to fuck someone who is ripe for fucking. Who appreciates your level of effort. You don't want to be one of a bunch of guys lined up, waiting to fuck a whore in the back of a truck. You want to be appreciated for the amount of calories you burned in fucking. Needless to say, if you unload too fast, and leave your woman frustrated, you don't burn very many calories. Moreover, she will probably despise you. Women will laugh at you - scorn you, ridicule you, and throw rocks at you if you have no libido.

Female impersonators have learned the secret of life. They use filthy language, make jokes about the Pope, and dress up like painted whores. They tell you that reading your Bible is a waste of time - that being celibate is dumb. If you tell a woman you're celibate she will grab your cock, and want to fuck you right away. I think the clergy are getting lots of pussy because women think they're doing God's work.

You might not think being a dance instructor is a hazardous job but it's more dangerous that painting church steeples. Francis was a good looking guy with a terrific sense of humor. His lessons were private lessons by appointment. His ex wife, Julie, was an Arthur Murray instructor and she was his teacher. They met because Francis wanted to learn to dance. Because he learned fast, and was good looking, she asked him to become a teacher. Moreover she liked giving him blow jobs. He got a blow job every night after his lesson. It augured well for him in the dance business.

Julie was a stunning blond. A natural blond. Men stared at her, and were afraid to approach her. Women hit on her. She was from Manhattan and was trained at the famous Arthur Murray Dance Studio on 5th Avenue. Julie was a Gemini. Fickle. She always had at least two boy friends. While she was in teacher training she worked evenings at Radio City Music Hall. The dancers at Radio City lived in dormitories; they were not allowed to go home while they were in the chorus line doing a show. There Julie met a dancer, a lovely girl, who just turned nineteen. Her name was Bridgette, a French girl from Paris who had been in the States only a year. Bridgette was a ballet dancer, having danced with the Paris Opera Ballet. When she was a little girl she had always wanted to dance; she had long slim legs. Strong legs. She definitely looked French, with cupid bow lips, a page boy haircut. Men scared her because they were too aggressive. They seemed to always want something - blowjobs, a feel, a fuck. She preferred the gentle company of women. She may have been bisexual, but most likely a lesbian. Julie and Bridgette went to bars together, mostly the Cubbyhole, a lesbian bar on W 12th Street. Sexually, Bridgette has a strong appetite. Being a dancer she didn't have big boobs, but she did have very sensitive nipples. She could orgasm from just her nipples alone.

Julie loved playing with Bridgette's nipples. She would massage Bridgette's small breasts, teasing the areola, and gently rub her nipples. She oiled her nipples and as the nipple became erect, she gradually increased the pressure as Bridgette became more and more aroused. "Pinch them," she moaned and Julie pinched. "Harder..." Julie intensified her actions - pulled Bridgette's nipples, stretching them, and twisting them. Julie loved pleasuring Bridgette, as she moaned louder, begging Julie not to stop. Julie wasn't intending to touch Bridgette's clit, because she did not need to do that. Bridgette was multi orgasmic. Bridgette's orgasms were intense, so much so, that she burst into laughter, then tears.

Julie's first marriage was to a stock broker who worked at Goldman Sachs, so they lived in Manhattan. His name was Dennis, a Harvard MBA type. The stock market closed at 4 PM so Dennis would head over to Radio City to take Julie to early dinner. One of those Sizzler steak houses on Broadway where you get a grilled steak dinner for a few bucks. Dennis was very jealous of Julie, and when he wasn't working, he would follow Julie around. Because he was doing well in the market, Dennis hired an ex-cop to keep an eye on Julie. When he found out Julie was giving blowjobs to an usher at Radio City Music Hall, Dennis beat her up pretty badly. He said if she ever did that again he'd kill her. That's when she filed for divorce and moved to Boston.

Julie and Francis got married by a justice of the peace in Salem, New Hampshire because Julie was still waiting for her divorce. Life was good - for a few months. Teaching together at the studio, Julie watched Francis like a hawk. She always demanded a lot of sex and kept giving him blowjobs so he had nothing left for another woman. She was jealous because Francis attracted women. When a teacher became overly friendly with Francis, Julie fired her.

Francis told me about his experience with wives and weddings.

"One time we, Julie and I, went to an Italian wedding. I'm Italian so we were invited to my cousin's wedding. My cousin, Joanna, was always a big woman. She weighed over 270 pounds. We were very close; as kids she'd come up to my room and tell me smutty stories about what she and her slutty girl friends did at school. I was fourteen, your typical clueless teenager. Kids have no concept of sex, so most of what she said to me was just noise.

"Sometimes I would go to the movies in the afternoon with Joanna. On the way home we'd go into a Walgreen's and she'd shop lift some makeup. I did not have the makings of a career criminal, so I nervously kept watch while she helped herself to lipstick and other miscellaneous items girls use. Including a couple of chocolate bars.

"Joanna got married in Lynn, outside of Boston. I could never understand why the guy married her. They fought constantly. The guy was not Italian, he was Irish. It was an Italian wedding.

"There were a lot of our relatives at the wedding. We have a big family. They were mostly Italian couples. And most of the guys looked like gangsters. The wives wore their best jewelry and it looked like a contest who could wear the sexiest and the shortest dress, and who had the biggest diamonds. All the guys were wearing double breasted suits. They looked like something out of the Godfather.

"The band was a 6-piece live band, but nobody was dancing. Julie, always taking the initiative, asked me to dance. We had the floor to ourselves.

"Of course we showed off a bit, some fancy cha-cha steps, some swing, the usual studio stuff. The only thing we didn't do was lifts. They usually only do lifts on TV. As soon as we sat down, a heavy, well dressed (as they do in Sicily) middle aged guy came over.

" 'Hey... I hear you're a dance teacher?' He sounded like an East Boston thug.

"I nodded and smiled at the guy. I didn't want any trouble.

"'Can you dance with my wife?' " He didn't say please."

Francis hesitated. Francis could see the woman grinning at him across the dance floor - too much makeup, her body stuffed into a scoop neck dress. She looked like she consisted entirely of mammary glands.

"You dance with my wife - if you know what's good for you...". The guy leered. He was twice as big as Francis.

"Oh.. yeah... sure. I would love to dance with your wife."

Francis got up and walked across the floor to the woman. She stood up, clearly excited. Bubbling. He doubted she had danced since her wedding.

He continued his story. "As I brought her into my arms... I, of course, assumed the correct dance position. The woman wrapped her left arm across the back of my neck and yanked me in. Her big boobs cushioned the impact. Her face was close to mine, and I could smell the Juicy Fruit gum she was chewing.

"'Thank you, Francis..' she whispered in my ear. "My name is Bianca." Her big red lips glistened with her saliva. My hand was just above her big ass. I knew her husband was watching us. As we glided across the floor, she whispered to me, 'Do you do private lessons? At my home? Around 10 O'clock after my husband leaves for work?' "

I'm sure Francis was mentally calculating what to charge her, providing he wanted to put his life on the line. "I could have some of the girls over..." she added.

What Bianca had in mind was a coffee klatch with some of the girls in case her husband was suspicious. Which he usually was. Francis was going to give them a short lesson and then the girls would pair up. He brought Rita with him. Rita was a lesbian. He also brought Luke, who worked for Francis. Luke had a 9-inch cock but an IQ of 50. Francis typically employed Luke as a male escort. And a body guard.

Usually men like to talk about their jobs and the stock market. Sports. Politics. Women usually don't give a shit about that stuff. Luke didn't talk about much of anything, he just grunted. That's why women loved him. His eyes were the eyes of a libertine. A 22 year old libertine. Women could relate to that. In order to pay the rent, women need a job, but their prime function in life is to have orgasms. Everything else, like going to church, or helping the homeless, is secondary. It's hard to be altruistic when your clit is buzzing.

When Francis arrived at Bianca's spacious home there were four women - all married except for Tina who was single. They wanted to learn to cha-cha. They weren't overly dressed, in fact they wore just shorts and various tank tops. Except for Bianca, the women were in decent shape. Bianca wore a maternity dress. Tina and Betty wore shorts, and Naomi, who was Japanese, wore a wraparound skirt. Bianca had a pastry platter ready; for laughs she had put an aphrodisiac in the coffee. Luke didn't drink coffee. Besides, He didn't need aphrodisiacs.

Everyone should understand cha-cha is a Latin dance, actually a slow mambo. You need action in your hips, which is called Cuban motion. After coffee, Francis began by teaching these luscious ladies how to roll their hips. The best way to learn that is to start with rumba. Francis demonstrated with Rita, then went to giggling Tina. He put his hands on her slim hips to help her undulate her ass. She got a bit frisky and pushed her boobs in his face. Everyone whooped. I doubt any of them needed an aphrodisiac. The fun began when they paired up, rubbing their boobs together and feeling each others' asses.

Rita was standing by, in case any of these females needed an assist. Luke had his hands in his pants, playing with his cock as usual. When they changed the music, Betty latched onto Luke and pushed her groin up against him. Naomi, being very polite, stood by until Rita grabbed her. Naomi was wearing a skirt so it took Rita only a few milliseconds to pull her skirt off, exposing Naomi's hairy bush. She wore no underwear.

Describing the action, Francis was being attacked by Tina, she being on top of him. Betty had unzipped Luke's pants and had a lascivious grip on his cock. Rita had her face between Naomi's thighs. while Bianca was stuffing herself with a chocolate covered donut.

Francis was concerned about being paid, and cursed himself for not asking for payment up front. Luke had Betty on the floor; she was naked from the waist down, and Luke was fucking her hard. Betty didn't realize what animal instinct meant until she had her first big orgasm. Then her second. She was loosing her mind. Luke had incredible energy as he flipped her over and plunged his cock into her receptive rectum.

Naomi had never been eaten by a female before. Rita has sucked Naomi's outer labia into her mouth, while she had her thumb up Naomi's ass. Naomi's clit was a pink stub. She was moaning "Hai... Hai... Hai" in Japanese.

Tina turned out to be transgender, and was attempting to fuck a protesting Francis in the ass. Tina had a luscious thick cock. Francis had built his reputation in the dance business as being accommodating but had never counted on being butt fucked.

Bianca was sitting off by herself in the kitchen, her left hand stuffing herself with another chocolate donut, while she masturbated with her right.

Francis knew that if Bianca's husband ever came home early, he was a dead man. But Gino knew his wife, and when Bianca told him she was having the girls over for a dance lesson, Gino knew something didn't sound right.

It was lunch time, a little after 12 o'clock. Gino thought he'd surprise his wife and see how the dance lesson was going. When he walked through the door and saw the couples moaning, lapping and fucking, he yelled, "Bianca, what the fuck is going on?"

"I'm in the kitchen, Gino. Do you want coffee and donuts?"

"Naw, I'm good. I just had lunch..."