Sensual Bachata NYC

"Fuck, Gaston! I hate dancing. I suck at it," whispered Lionel to Gaston.

"You are going to love this!" exclaimed Gaston with a knowing smile.

Lionel brooded and stepped as elephant-like as he could muster to protest. The leader started showing turns, forward stepping patterns, and pauses. Lionel had to go along because everyone was so packed together, people would have bounced against him. In a certain way, he was actually enjoying his protest, but nobody seemed to pay any mind to it. And the more Lionel protested, it only made Gaston's smirk even more cocksure.

The door flung open with a pizzazz that hadn't happened before. The leader's eyes lit up with joy and he called out, "This is Aurora visiting us from Chile. She is one of the most lovely dancers that I've ever danced with. She will be leading the class with me today. Give her a big round of applause!" The students including Lionel started clapping. A girl started whistling like a catcall but because it came from a girl, it was evidently a compliment, not harassment. It was like this group of people celebrated sexiness openly without shame.

The celebrity girl hurried into the room. Despite being late, she was carrying a Starbucks cup, which apparently was the reason for her delay. She wore a tight body suit. Her whole body fit into it. As she walked to the front, Lionel saw her hindsight. It wasn't only skin-tight, but it was crumbled in such a way that the fabric curved into her ass crack and revealed the full shape of both ass cheeks. She was wearing a stringy thong underneath it. Seeing the ribbon trail up between her butt cheeks and across her hips made her appear more exposed than if nothing had been visible at all. Despite the casual workout bodysuit, she wore ultra-high heels that stretched her arches to the max and bent her toes back at an almost ninety-degree angle. Her demeanor gave another impression entirely. She walked and smiled humbly like an innocent girl next door that's a bit mousy. It felt like the getup was a superhero uniform that she had draped herself in, completely out of character with who she really was.

Consistent with her demeanor, she didn't say anything, but threw kisses at the student with feel-good vibes. That's when Lionel recognized that it was Aurora!!! His heart pounded instantly. She had an energy that was familiar to him from the bus ride: a bit reserved, shy, and a humble queen. All the protest about dancing and the shirt was forgotten. He wanted to impress her. He was glad that he was wearing a flashy shirt. He wanted to put all the energy he could into the music to show off to her. Perhaps, if he danced well enough, she'd notice him and say hi!

All the while, he was staring at her butt that with the crumbling draping gave him the perfect view of her butt cheeks and cleft between. Her high heels made her butt perk out even more and those lean calves with the calve muscles high. She was leading body isolations. She was gyrating her hips in a circle. Everyone in class even the guys followed her. That gave him plenty of camouflage to enjoy the view of her butt. There was something about a butt being curved in the perfect way. It's indescribable what the perfect way is, but if a butt hits that, it creates such a sensuous appearance that evokes so much passion and excitement in the viewer. When she let forward and backward motions with her hips, all he could think about was how sexual that movement was and what sex with her would be like.

The next phase of the class was to pair up with partners. Before Lionel could get his bearings, a bronze haired girl presented her hand held high, almost near her chin to him. "Hi, I'm Lizzie. What's your name," she asked. Her blew eyes had such clarity and forwardness to them. Her posture was erect like she was very action-oriented, shouting "Let's do this!". He shook her hand and said his name. Then she put herself into his embrace. She placed his right hand on her back under her armpit and grabbed his left hand into her hand for a classic ballroom stance.

There Lionel was in pretty much an embrace with a young woman of his age. Only having kissed a couple times before in his life, this was as close as he had experienced being to a woman, but never so fast. He felt daunted. He felt that he had to camouflage just how exciting and amazing that was to him. It made his body musculature tense up, which heated him, and sent sweat drops to his forehead. As pained as he was in his body, it was one of the happiest moments of his life. He stomped side to side with her. Her face darkened with disapproval as she felt his rigid body.

He saw other student couples in full frontal body contact moving to the basic step. Aurora and the instructor were resting their foreheads against each other like they were deeply in love. The sight of that equally terrorized and lured Lionel.

Every couple of minutes the instructor asked the women to rotate to the next lead. Lionel experienced such a variety of women in his arms. There was an Indian woman, likely a computer programmer, with a big smile. There was a big-bodied African woman (not an African American but a truly African woman from Niger), who seemed absolutely proud of her voluptuous body. She felt the music so much and had so much heft to her that she moved Lionel's body with her, and Lionel for the first time started getting a hint of moving to the music in his own body. There was a tall Jewish woman, half a head taller than him with long blond hair. She was so spindly thin that she had to walk very carefully. He felt like he was holding a doll.

His favorite woman was a raven-black-haired woman about his size. She had whispered into his ear that it was her first time as well. Her top was more of a silken fabric that was wrapped around her like a tube. It was wrapped very loosely and held up by two spaghetti straps. Because it was wrapped so loosely, the folds kept moving around on it. Sometimes the top draped open in the middle to show her cleavage deeply. Another time, the fold opened up over her boob to almost show her areola. Lionel kept trying to look in her eyes to be proper, but any time that she glanced into the room, he glanced down to see where the fold had moved to and what it revealed, and if he could catch a glimpse of something more.

She was nervous as well. Her hands were so wet that they were dropping. That only aroused Lionel even more to feel her anxiety and the rush in her body of emotions. Lionel tried to calm his penis down. Getting a boner would be too embarrassing, but the lusciously warm blood feeling in also felt so good and relaxing. It wasn't like a raging boner. It was more like letting in a warm bath, where the water caresses, warmth, and eases such pleasure all over the body.

Her chest and arms were covered with a sleeve tattoo. She was wearing tight jeans, and heels that were fashioned as feminine military boots. He really liked her style as well. She seemed like a total badass. All the while, he was holding her in his arms and made her body spin according to the instructions of the teacher. Unlike the disappointed Lizzie girl, she was happy in his arms. He wanted to make her as happy as she could be happy.

The class was over much too fast. Aurora never recognized Lionel. Gaston pulled Lionel back down the stairs because Gaston had a long night of coding ahead of him. The streets were markedly emptier now that night had fallen. Lionel felt the last leg of the subway almost familiar as he was counting down the station names: Montrose Av, Morgan Av, Jefferson St, DeKalb Av, and Myrtle Wyckoff Avs. The messy, cramped apartment was soothingly familiar. Gaston's laptop in the living room floor corner, a roommate from night shift sleeping on the couch, and the thumping of bachata music in the bathroom. The pile of ketchup packets on the floor in front of the kitchen sink was new but in character.

Gaston went straight to his laptop to code. Lionel didn't have much to do and felt the weight of the day crashing down on him. So Lionel grabbed his toothbrush to head into the bathroom. The two couples were dancing. They were practicing some moves where the girls bent back far and were levitated down to the ground and back.

"Hey Lionel, Gaston messaged that he took you to Little Paradise. Show us your moves!" one of the girls insisted and made everyone stop dancing. When Lionel only froze, she slapped him on the butt, "c'mon, don't be shy. We are family here!"

Her partner let go of the woman to select a new song on his phone. "Go ahead and dance with Luna!" the guy encouraged Lionel.

With toothpaste foam in his mouth, she grabbed him by both hands to put him into the open position. Her body was glistening with sweat. Warmth streamed from all parts of her skin because she had been so physically active. She was short, but very attractive, a dark Latina with ample bosom - only an underwire black bra and black bootie shorts. Evidently, the whole way for Lionel to move forward was to do the pattern from class: a basic, followed by a left insight turn, then a comb over the woman's hair... He got as far as three steps when Luna stopped him: "You have to move your hips!"

Still filled with toothpaste foam, Lionel tried to swallow the foam down to be able to talk, but her hands were already reaching for his butt and pushing his hips side to side. To reach forward, her chest with those ample boobs was pressing against his belly. He could only think about how his cock wasn't too much further down. Then she manhandled him into wiggling his butt side to side. Her dance partner turned his butt to Lionel to show him how a man would move the hips side to side and actually in a figure: eight side to side, forward and back as well.

Lionel had never felt his body being handled so much by a woman before. It strangely reminded him of the military examination when he was inspected by a female doctor, who asked him to lower his drawers and then lifted his penis for a full inspection. Lionel tried very hard not to get a boner. Then Luna passed Lionel off to the other woman: "Now try with Camilla!" The two dancer guys were really into being helpful and demonstrating how he needed to move his butt.

"Oh, look, he can move his butt!" Luna applauded Lionel when Lionel knew that he was only awkwardly and minimally moving his butt, nothing near as athletic as the two dancer guys, but the encouragement made him feel good and made him try harder to move his butt.

They let go off him so that he could continue brushing his teeth, but all he could do was glance in the mirror, watch the two couples dance, and yearn that it was him who was dancing. That female attention had felt so good. It had stirred up feelings in his soul that he hadn't known existed. Those female hands on his body had such primal, healing energy like he was re-united with where he should be like Adam and Eve were cleared of the sin and allowed back into the garden of Eden. But all he could do to cling onto that feeling was to delay his nighttime routine by flossing his teeth extra meticulously. The two couples had completely forgotten about him. They didn't seem to move when he stepped out of the door.

He fell asleep quickly because his head was so full of experiences. But it didn't take long until he felt a gentle kick into his ribs. He followed the foot up to its owner. It was Gaston who had kicked him with the heel of his foot. Gaston was holding something in his arms and wrestling with it. Through the veil of sleep buggers, Lionel realized that Gaston was full-on making out with a girl, mouths latched onto each other as big as it could go. Her hands were rummaging all over his body, tearing on Gaston's clothing. Gaston waved behind his back for Lionel to get out before the girl noticed. Lionel quickly crawled out of the room and heard the door kicked shut with a big bang behind him.

The moaning in the bedroom and bachata music in the bathroom was a constant. Lionel found two people sleeping on the couch already. The space behind the couch was already claimed by another sleeping body. Lionel carefully folded up Gaston's laptop to make enough space on the floor for himself to sleep. The strangeness of the place seeped into Gaston's mind as he listened to the breathing and snoring sounds. The apartment was really only a place to crash at night while during the day everyone was out hustling. Lionel noticed the abandoned soy sauce packet next to his face and placed it on the edge of the coffee table. Then he fell asleep.

When the sunlight woke him up, he was the only one in the living room. Everyone else seemed to have left. The bachata music was gone. The Yankee baseball hat on the bedroom door knob suggested that Gaston's girl visitor was still there. He noticed that the smell he had been inhaling all night came from a pile of used clothes nearby his head. He started bawling tears.

He didn't want to live anymore. He thought about jumping off a bridge or jumping in front of the subway. At first, he couldn't place were that utter sadness came from. As he tried to think of reasons to look forward to living, he realized that he had no control over his life. Everything was foreign. He was helpless. Things happened to him. The apartment was a terrible mess. He had no friends. Gaston had helped him, but nobody had actually talked to him or cared about him. There were masses of people everywhere. A person in the city was grain of sand at the beach: unnoticable, unimportant, and meaningless.

He had no future. He didn't have the toughness or smarts to handle such a city. He should have never come. This all was a terrible mistake. Such darkness descended on him that all he could think about was the soft skin on his throat and how he could slash it. The red of the blood would provide him relief from all of this. He only needed to pierce it and bliss would come. He was a fuck up, a useless piece of nothing that was inherently damaged.

The bedroom door opened. He wiped away his tears. He felt embarrassed to show that he was depressed. People would judge him. He tried to smile. The girl came out of the bedroom. She was only wearing a tank top that barely covered her boobs. She was barefoot and nothing else on her body. She had beautiful braids that came out of an intricate pattern on her hair. Her hair was so clean, carefully groomed, had such shine and supplness. It was like she was a princess in the middle of the filthy apartment. The sleepy face on her looked very sexy in. The recent sex and intimacy of sleep gave her a very vulnerable look like he could see who she really was. Before heading into the bathroom, she stopped because she noticed him on the floor.

"Hey Lionel! Gaston has been talking about you for weeks. I'm so glad to meet you. Are you okay? You don't look alright!" she said, starting with cheery happiness and ending with grave concern.

"I'm just feeling a little rough," but getting female attention, someone caring, her face looking like she really cared about him, the tears started dripping down his cheeks.

"Oh, I know that look! I've felt exactly like you," said the girl in the tank top. Something in her facial experesison made him seem like she knew the emotional inside of him like she knew the back of her hand. He felt so soothed by it. "You have bachata withdrawal," stated the tank top girl with solid conviction. "Gaston talked about how you were fighting against bachata yesterday evening, but then all over sudden, you surrendered to bachata and it swept you up. "Here, I'll hook you up. Let me piss first."

She walked into the restroom and didn't even bother closing the door. He could see her knees as she sat on the toilet. With complete normalcy, she asked him, "What did you learn yesterday?" Seeing her knees, he could confirm that she was wearing no underwear and only the tank top. Her voice was at ease like they had been friends for a long time. He tried to describe the sequence to her. Bachata music started playing in the bathroom.

"Fuck patterns!" she said coming out of the bathroom, having neither flushed nor washed her hands. "It's all about technique."

With that, she draped her body onto Lionel's tentatively standing body. She wiggled her right foot in between his feet to bend her knees there. Then she put her whole front onto his body. He could feel her soft breasts under the tank top resting against his belly. He put his body offset to the left as he had seen the guys in close embrace during class. She started moving her hips and body around him. He had to forget about logical dance moves. He had to let his body go with the embraces and moves of her body because she was so completely surrendered to him and her movements. He felt like he was no longer dancing on purpose following instructions. Instead, some maelstrom of the music and her body had taken a hold of him. He had to surrender to it as well. Every movement was foreign because he was disconnected from his body but also all so familiar because movement was his (and every other human's) birthright. He looked down onto her hair and those braids as the side of her head rested on his chest, peaceful like a kitten slumbering on a window sill in the sun.

When Gaston came out of the bedroom, Lionel tightened up with terror of having been caught. But Gaston waved him to calm down and enjoy: "It's only bachata. If you screw her, I shoot you point blank!"

At the end of the song, Lionel had such lust for life. His loins were filled with energy. His face was glowing. He could feel the sun charging up the day. This would be a victorious day in the city! There were so many adventures awaiting him. This was the best moment of his life so far, having felt such an intimate connection with a deliciously lovely woman. Nothing could crack him today.

"See! It's all good now!" she said with a smile and wink as she slipped away from him to rummage through the fridge for food. "I ain't eating those expired army rations. And if you don't offer me any decent food, you've got it coming!" Her wrist wrapped into a tiny fist. The way she shook it, she seemed friendly in the moment, but clearly was willing to do serious damage to Gaston.

"Upper, right shelf," Gaston yelled!

She looked up in the fridge and let out a soothing "ah." She reappeared from squatting with a white takeout box and chopsticks in her hand. She cleared a kitchen counter enough for her to sit on it in the sunlight. One leg dangled down the counter. The other knee was pressed against her chest. With only a tank top, if Lionel were in the right place, he would be able to see her pussy. He was so drawn to see it that he physically couldn't help himself. He tried to turn his whole head away so that his eyes couldn't dart there. He knew that he would be in trouble if he were caught trying to see his cousin's girlfriend's pussy, especially because they were so trusting with him, but watching the silhouette of her body neither skinny nor fat - just everything comfortable, curved the right way, and juicy, he felt so drawn to soaking up more of her.

Luckily, Gaston pulled him out of the door with two MRE packets in his hand. They had work to do. They were behind schedule. The app update was still buggy. He had been trying to improve the sound analysis algorithm to simultaneously track two nearby conversations. Splitting the sound waves to the right conversation was apparently a very tough signal processing problem. But Gaston was trying to move up. Instead of selling raw audio recordings, he wanted to process the words out of the ambient conversations and sell the actual information. They were going to pitch to a potential client. Lionel should see how the business was done so that he could become Gaston's lefthand man.

Gaston got chatty and told Lionel about his girlfriend Sara. She was a marketing researcher. They had met at a networking event in Soho. Gaston wanted to get serious with Sara and even consider kids. Sara on the other hand wasn't sure about Gaston. She really liked him, but she couldn't picture a life with him. That was one of the reasons why Gaston had left his job to try to build up a business of his own. He wanted to show her that he was a man and that he could create a great life for them. Yet, deep insecurity gnawed on him. He could feel that Sara was only going along for the ride and could leave him at any moment when the thing that she really wanted came along. He knew that pushing her would only push her away. So he kept that feeling of being unrooted and of being constantly one step away from the chopping block away from her as best as he could. Gaston told Lionel, "I'd do anything for her. I'd choke a big with my bare hands. But I know that any feeling of desperation will push her away." There was a mix of sadness and also such deep happiness in his voice.