Lucy Loves Tango

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Ballroom dancing makes Lucy hot.
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(My first submission. Each story will be about a student.)

*****

My name is Francis and I teach ballroom dancing.

My very first student weighed over 270 pounds; she had a grip that cut off the circulation in my left arm. She was short, about 5' tall, and all bust. The only reason I mention Mrs. Swartz is to introduce you to reality. I wasn't teaching just sexy housewives. Sure, there were mature, horny housewives, which I'll introduce soon, but I also taught young college girls and their friends.

Mrs. Swartz believed wearing tight satin blouses was appropriate for dance lessons. She was also an awful tease. Buttons were popping open and she had to excuse herself while she pretended to attempt to contain her meaty breasts. I tried to avoid ogling her massive cleavage - just another half inch and a fat nipple would pop out. She would caress her chest and whine, "I need to buy a new blouse."

Fortunately my time with Mrs. Swartz was short because she complained I was too inexperienced. I did not know how to respond to a whoring housewife who didn't want to become a good dancer.

My second student, Lucy, was an English teacher, curvy, nice ass and wore horn rimmed glasses. She was about 22 years old, and wore cashmere sweaters to her lessons. I doubt she ever wore a bra because her nipples were always visible. She looked like a firm C cup. When you're 25 you have to avoid dancing too close because your cock is always hard. But my students never complained.

When I was introduced to Lucy, I asked her how good a dancer she wanted to become. "Oh, my therapist told me to take dance lessons. I'm a chronic masturbator."

I thought she had a good sense of humor. When I taught Lucy to tango, we were always dancing very close. She was breathing heavy every time I pulled her into a dip. It was important that her pelvic bone push against my right hip. You could call it a clitoral squeeze, but we didn't have dance steps called clitoral.

Lucy took lessons twice a week and made it clear she wanted to dance only tango. She obviously wanted clitoral friction continuously. I politely told her I didn't want to spend 50 minutes every lesson just rubbing against her clit (except I didn't actually say 'clit') so we inserted some waltz time.

Single English teachers don't have much of a social life, with having to grade papers and such, so inevitably Lucy asked me to escort her to a dinner dance. After not much deliberation, I agree to escort her; she would pay me $200 for the evening. She would pick me up, and also take me home.

I didn't know Lucy was a heavy drinker. Half way through dinner her hand was under the table rubbing my thigh, accidentally brushing against my swelling cock. My cock actually isn't overly long, but its thick. She went "Oh!!" and turned red. It was time to leave.

Coyly, she asked, "Do you mind if we park along the river for a while? I need to clear my head, I must have had too much to drink ..."

One of my personality traits is I'm too agreeable. No sooner than Lucy had parked in front of MIT, she started to cry. Her skirt was drawn up over her thighs, and I noticed she had worn thigh high stockings with garters. "You remind me of a guy I used to date ..." she blurted. "We were still in high school and I was a virgin and he took advantage of me because I felt sorry that he was the dumbest guy in class ..." She took a deep breath. "He used to put his fingers in my vagina ..."

"You mean cunt ..." I interrupted. "We're not in medical school."

"OK, cunt. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't. It felt so good I didn't squeal and tell his mother."

"One night," Lucy continued, "He raped me. Back then we didn't call it rape. He just overpowered me."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lucy."

"He said he would marry me if I got pregnant ..."

"Did you get pregnant?"

"No. But he spoiled me. Now I need sex all the time. I can't go out on a date because I almost attack the guy. I scare them away."

"Lucy, have you tried therapy?"

"Yes, my therapist was a nice looking man and I couldn't help it."

"You attacked your therapist?"

"Yes."

"Well, maybe you need a female therapist."

"Yes, Francis, I got a woman. She is incredible. I couldn't help it."

"I take it, you attacked her too."

"She smelled like she had just played with herself. She had been in the rest room. Her fingers smelled of cunt."

This was puzzling. I had to try to help Lucy contain her urges. "I don't turn you on, do I?"

"Yes, you do, Francis. When we tango, I get so wet, I have to wear diapers, not panties."

"Anyway, you don't have to worry," she continued. "I'm becoming a lesbian and my therapist gets me off every time I see her. The problem is, she charges $150 a session. My insurance is refusing to cover more than three sessions a week. "

"How often do you see her?"

"Every day."

"Hmmmmm ..."

I noticed Lucy had spread her legs and was fingering herself. There was no diaper. Nothing. Just a bare pussy with a tangle of dark hair. The light wasn't too good.

"Ohhhh ... I'm so horny..." she moaned.

She was furiously fingering her cunt, squishing and sloshing away like crazy. It was getting so loud, couples strolling on the sidewalk were peering into the car. The windows weren't tinted. Finally she orgasmed with a loud groan. Then she came again. I felt I had to leave.

"Francis, thank you for letting me share ..." I heard her saying.

Maybe I should assign her to another teacher. Teaching someone who's leaking over my shoes is not good.

Lucy is going to a female instructor.

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