The Dance Lesson Ch. 03

It was one of the longest days of my life, waiting for my wife's dance lesson at five o'clock. She'd been invited by one of her dance partners to go for a walk after the lesson and explore the resort where we were staying for our summer vacation. The invitation was exactly what I'd been hoping for in my plan to have my wife, Anne, make love to another man.

Still, I was very nervous, and my feelings were very mixed. On the one hand, I had a hard-on most of the day in anticipation of what might happen. After just two days at the resort, Anne was losing her usual inhibitions. She'd always insisted that her figure was too full to be sexy. And lately, she'd added that she was too old - just over forty - to be attractive anymore.

But the vacation, the sun and somehow the Latin dance classes she was taking every afternoon were all having a positive effect. She said she was feeling sexy again for the first time in years. She was dressing in a more revealing way, and that got her a lot of male attention which in turn made her feel even sexier. All in all, the vacation was doing wonders for her self confidence.

It was also doing wonders for our sex life. At dinner the evening before, she'd teased her favorite dance partner, Jack, by wearing a tight white T-shirt without a bra. The poor guy couldn't take her eyes off of her. The cotton really gripped her full breasts and if the light was right, you could see her nipples, the faintest shade darker, under the material.

Hoping some sparks might fly, I left them alone. When Anne returned to our bungalow an hour later, pretty boozed up, she told a hot and horny story about stripping for him on the moonlit beach and then fucking him. We had the wildest sex of our 15-year marriage, ending with huge orgasms.

She claimed afterwards it was all made up just to get me off. But Jack had invited her to go out with him after the dance lesson the next day. That turned me on, but also made me jealous. Now that seeing my wife with another guy was a real possibility, my feelings started to change. My dick wanted it to happen, but my head was afraid of what the consequences might be. Plus, my wife was becoming a lot more ... well, slutty. She was dressing more provocatively and enjoying it. She'd never been like that before. Again, it turned me on and scared me at the same time.

All of that was going through my head as I watched her get ready for her date. She was toweling her hair off after a long shower. Her breasts, bum and thighs all shuddered as she shook her hair. I admired her figure. She was still pretty hot. Her breasts were large and heavy but didn't sag. Her nipples were pink and, when they were erect, long and thick. She also had a nice round bum. Her tummy was flat, which made her ample boobs and hips all the more dazzling. Add to that smooth, taut skin. She jiggled nicely when she moved but there were no stretch marks or cellulite. Last but not least, she had full, inviting mouth and big blue eyes. If you wanted to describe her looks in one word, it would have to be voluptuous.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, glancing up at me as she ran a brush through her shoulder-length hair. "You make feel self-conscious."

"I'm just imagining Jack seeing you like this," I said, trying to smile. I really was imagining that, and it made me so horny I had a hard time getting the words out without stuttering.

"What makes you think he's ever going to see me like this?" she asked. "He wants to look around the resort, not ... screw me." She walked out of the bathroom and opened the top drawer of the dresser. She pulled out some white panties, looked at them, and dropped them back.

"He wants to screw you, definitely," I said, laughing. Was she kidding? "And I want to watch him do it." I was sitting in an armchair watching her. She was quite a sight.

"You're a perv, Tom," she said. She wasn't laughing, but at least she smiled. A little, anyway. She lifted out a black bra, and tossed it onto the bed.

"You were pretty hot about him last night," I said. She was obviously planning to wear her sexiest underwear for her date.

"You were the one who was hot last night," she said. She pulled the matching panties from the drawer, then slid it shut. Then she turned to me. "I told you, I just made all that stuff up for your benefit." She walked over to the bed and put on the panties. "Besides, I was bombed last night."

"But you said you might do it if we thought it was a good idea," I said. I watched her put on her bra. It was sheer, with a bit of black lace covering the nipples. It was an incredible outfit. She reached a hand into each bra cup to adjust her breasts. "And I ... I think it ... uh ... it's a good idea," I added.

"No, you don't," she said. "And I'm not so sure either." She walked over to the closet. Her bum wiggled deliciously in the sheer fabric of the panties.

"You sure look like you think it's a good idea," I said. She lifted out a black dress I had never noticed before.

She turned back to me, first with a scolding look, then with a smile. "Tom, you're the one who convinced me I could still be sexy. And you know what? I'm enjoying it. I'm dressing like this because I want to look and feel sexy. You like it when I look sexy for other guys, and now I'm going to go dance with Jack and then go for walk and feel sexy and enjoy myself."

She slid the black dress over her head. It was a snug, and hugged her curves in all the right places. It was about knee-length, but had a slit up one leg, about halfway up her thigh. It was just right for Latin dancing, I had to admit.

"When did you buy that?" I asked. She was turning in front of the mirror. We were both admiring what we saw.

"This morning at the resort shop. Do you like it?"

"It's fantastic," I said. It really was fantastic. She slipped on some black heels that accentuated her calves. I'd never seen her look so good.

"OK, sweetheart, I'll see you later," she said. She came over to my chair, bent down and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Don't wait up for me. And don't worry. I'll tell all when I come home." She smiled at me, turned and walked out the door.

I gave her a five-minute head start and then went out to follow her. The dance lessons took place in a small area beside the main swimming pool. I found myself a table at the back of the pool bar where I had a view of the dance area without being seen: I sat down, ordered a beer and turned to watch.

It was a full class. Anne was practicing some steps with the cute female dance instructor. In her tight black dress, my wife was attracting glances from quite a few guys. But I couldn't see Jack. The music switched to something slower, and they changed partners. I recognized one her partners, a younger, dark-haired guy. He was one of the two guys - Jack was the other - who had been eying my wife in her one-piece bathing suit and sheer beach wrap on the first day of classes.

But not Jack. He was definitely a no-show. My heart sank. I ordered another beer while my wife danced. Without Jack, I thought there was no way anything was going to happen now. All my plans out the window, I thought. I guess I'll have to be satisfied with my fantasies.

I was staring out toward the beach, silently cursing Jack, when I realized the music had stopped. When I turned to look at the dance area, I saw my wife standing at the bar. I shrank back, startled. My following her around was not part of the deal, but she hadn't seen me. I looked around for a way out of the bar without attracting her attention, but I couldn't see any options. Instead, I moved my chair as far into the corner as possible where a palm tree at least partly concealed me from her view.

Looking the way she did, it wasn't long before a guy was hitting on her. He bought her a drink and they struck up a conversation, but I could tell right away he wasn't her type. Too much hair gel, the wrong kind of shirt. I don't know, it just wasn't her guy. Sure enough, after a quarter of an hour, he was gone.

I was just about to try my luck at sneaking out when her dark-haired dance partner showed up. I wasn't sure whether he was her type or not, but he was young and good-looking, with a full head of thick, black hair. I was envious. My hair was long gone. The name Marcello popped into my head. That was the name I had cooked up for an imaginary Latin lover in a fantasy I had told to my wife on our first night at the resort. Marcello, like the Italian actor, Marcello Mastroiani. Seeing her get off on that fantasy was one of the reasons I had decided to try and set up this whole situation in the first place. Anyway, here at last was some potential. I sat back to see what would happen.

He bought her a drink. Unlike Jack, he seemed very serious. There was no joking or laughing, but he had Anne's interest. He pointed over to the dance floor once or twice and held up his arms in one, then another position, moving his hips as though he were dancing. I guessed he was showing her a step or something. She nodded her head. She smiled and even giggled once. Things were getting better.

He was explaining something to her, very serious face. But she was laughing at him. He shook his head, and looked cross, then held out his hand. He wanted to dance with her. She looked around the bar, embarrassed. I ducked my head quickly, but she wasn't actually looking around. Then she smiled at him and let him lead her out onto the patio in front of the bar, where they did a few steps. They were both looking down at their feet ... or maybe he was looking down at her tits? I wasn't sure, but my cock stirred a little.

After they'd danced for a couple of minutes, he spun her around once with a flourish, and then he finally smiled at her. I had to admit, it was a dazzling smile, all white teeth in that dark, Mediterranean face. They went back to the bar and had some more to drink. I guzzled my beer.

After a minute, Marcello gestured with his head towards the beach, raising his eyebrows. My wife nodded and off they went. Her date was working out after all. I watched them head down a little stone pathway towards the beach. Her bum was wobbling in her tight dress and with every step, I - and the rest of the world - got a nice flash of thigh. She was teetering a little on her high heels and after a few steps, reached down and took her shoes off. She looked so sexy and cute in her bare feet and that tight dress, carrying her shoes in her hand ... it was heartbreaking.

When they'd disappeared through some trees, I stood up and followed. Although it was now after seven and the sun was getting low in the sky, it was still warm out and I was feeling the beer. I reached a line of sand dunes above the beach and looked down in both directions. I couldn't see them right away, but there were still quite a few people out and it was going to take me a while to find them. Maybe they weren't even here, I thought.

But after a minute, I saw my wife's black dress. She and Marcello were walking away from me, close to the waterline. They were about fifty yards away. She still held her shoes in one hand. He held his hands together behind his back. They turned to look at one another from time to time, talking and nodding their heads. I headed after them.

After a few minutes, they turned inland between some dunes and up towards some of the bungalow residences. The sun was setting by this time, and cast a crimson glow over the sand and the scrub brush at the top of the beach. I couldn't see them anymore, so I started to jog to the path where they'd changed direction. I reached it just in time to see them go through the front door of one of the bungalows.

My heart started to race, and not just from the jogging. I walked slowly towards the bungalow. It was laid out like ours, with the front door towards the walkway and a window facing a small garden in the back. There were two small windows on either side that looked in on the bedroom and the bathroom.

I looked around. There was nobody to be seen, so I quickly ducked into a hedge at the side of the bungalow and snuck around the corner to the back, where I could peek through the large garden window. My wife was sitting on a small leather sofa. The decor was nicer than our place. A higher price class, I figured. Marcello was standing in front of her, pouring white wine into a glass. Then he poured himself a glass and sat down beside her. They raised their glasses and toasted each other.

After a while, he stood up and walked out of view. I heard some music come on. It was Latin music, Cuban maybe, I didn't really know. Marcello re-appeared after another couple of minutes, licking a cigarette paper and sealing what was obviously a joint. He lit it with a large glass lighter, took a long drag and then handed it to my wife. She giggled, took a puff, coughed and handed it back, waving away the smoke in her face.

Marcello did most of the smoking but Anne took a few hits and I could see that the combination of booze and dope was having an effect. After a few minutes, Marcello stood up and reached out his hand, offering to dance. My wife looked up with a far-away smile on her face. They started to dance. Maybe because of the booze, or maybe because Marcello was a good dancer, my wife seemed a lot more fluid, more relaxed in her motions. She closed her eyes and let him lead her around the small living room.

He pulled her close from time to time, and her chest squeezed into him. Her bum rolled and swayed to the rhythm. I was getting a serious hard-on. Marcello had his hands in the classic position. His left arm was extended away from their bodies so he could twirl, pull and push my wife around the dance floor. His right hand was firmly on her side, fingers along her ribs, just below her breasts. He was guiding her effortlessly.

It wasn't long before his right hand began to wander down to my wife's hip. Then, when he pulled her close, he reached slightly behind, holding the top of her bum. She didn't resist. Then he pushed her out, spun her around once and brought her back. This time he just reached down, gripped her bum firmly and pulled her hips towards him. Again, she showed no resistance. Her eyes were still closed. She looked like was lost in her own world.

The next time he spun her and pulled her back, he bent his head down and kissed her. Their dancing abruptly stopped. My wife opened her eyes for a moment and pulled back slightly, but then closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Marcello took my wife's head between his hands and pushed his tongue deep into her mouth. She responded by leaning into him, pressing her hips against his. Her breasts squeezed out sideways with the motion.

They separated and looked into each other's face for a few moments. Then Marcello walked to the edge of the window. I quickly pulled back, my cock throbbing in my pants. He pulled the curtains closed.

I tried to peek in but there was no opening. I could see shadows inside but nothing more. I moved to the side of the house where I thought the bedroom window was located. The curtain was still open. The bedroom was dark and I could see through the door into the illuminated living room. All I could see was the end of the sofa but after a second I realized that I could see the curtained garden window and the reflection of two figures dancing.

By now it was dark outside. I heard voices in the distance but I couldn't see anyone nearby. I looked back into the bungalow. In the reflection I could see my wife and Marcello kissing again, with as much passion as before. Marcello was running his hands up and down the sides of my wife's black dress. She was holding the back of his head, her mouth open and willing as he drove his tongue into her.

Then she pushed herself free and began to sway and dance on her own. He moved out of view. She lifted her hands behind her head and undid the clasp of her dress. My heart was breaking out of my chest. I opened the fly of my pants and my iron-hard erection popped free. I glanced around again but saw nobody. I turned back to see my wife sliding the zipper of her dress slowly down her back. Then she turned, facing me. Again I ducked, but she wasn't looking in my direction. She pushed her shoulders together and the dress slipped down, catching briefly on her boobs before falling free to the ground.

She stood with her back to Marcello and lifted her hands up again over head, swaying to the Latin music. She was really getting into it. I slowly stroked my cock, but I had to stop almost immediately. I was so hot I would have cum right away.

Then Anne looked back over her shoulder at Marcello and reached her hands behind her to undo her bra. She smiled wickedly at him, then turned back and closed her eyes as she again pushed her shoulders together. The bra fell to the ground. Her heavy breasts wobbled free. The nipples were erect and stuck out like I had seldom seen them. She ran her hands down her sides, then up again, over the sides of her breasts and then into her hair, all the time swaying her hips to the music.

Still with her back to her audience, she slid her fingers under the waistband of her black panties and began to tug them down over her broad hips and bulging bum. The waistband kind of snapped free as she pulled it over the last curve, and her bum shivered as it was released. She had to push the panties down over her legs, which she kept straight as she bent over. My cock twitched. I thought I was going to shoot my load.

Now she was totally naked. She kept dancing slowly, still facing away from Marcello. After a few moments, she decided to give him what he was waiting for. With her hands behind her head and still swaying her hips, she slowly turned. The gentle yellow light from the living room lit up her trembling breasts in profile. The skin on her thighs glowed. She was absolutely gorgeous.

Then she slowly walked out of my range of view. I swallowed hard, my erection pulsing. Now what? I could see shadows moving but that was all. Grinding my teeth, I pushed my cock back into my pants and went back around to the garden window. Still nothing to see. I remembered that the door in our bungalow was a sliding window. I put my hands on the glass and very gently pushed. It moved. I slid the door open about a foot. The music was louder now. I reached in and slowly pushed the curtain to one side.

Marcello and my wife were dancing. She was naked but he was still dressed. He devoured her with his gaze every time he pushed her away to spin her around, or when he dipped her back, his face only inches from her upturned breasts. The front of his pants bulged prominently. My wife had her eyes closed most of the time. She simply gave herself over to him.

Then, as he pulled her back to him, he reached down with both hands on her bum and pulled her hips roughly into his. The jolt made her breasts jiggle, and her bum bulged out between his fingers. He began to rub himself up against her, staring down into her face with a furious expression.

She smiled at him, then put her hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly. She reached down and began to undo his pants. With my one free hand, I again pulled my throbbing cock out of my pants. The touch of the cool night air on my raging hard-on was electrifying.

My wife sank to her knees and tugged Marcello's pants down. He was wearing tight black underwear and his erection was bulging up. Anne pulled his underwear down. His cock sprang up, absolutely rock hard, just an inch from her face. It was longer than mine, I couldn't help but notice. She looked up at him and smiled, then closed her eyes, parted her lips and drew his erection into her mouth.

Marcello put his head back and moaned. My wife slowly moved her lips down over his rigid shaft, all the while looking up at him. She was obviously enjoying the intense pleasure she was bringing him. With her hands on his hips, she started a rhythmic back and forth. Her lips glistened. Marcello still looked up at the ceiling but reached down and took my wife's head between his hands. She didn't need much coaxing, as far as I could tell.