The Daring Dance Dilemma

Mike had to acknowledge that she was right. If he had done what he had with Becca in the church when he was a teenage boy he probably would have been unable to stop himself from bragging about it to everyone, including his own parents, his pastor, probably even her parents.

"So, you see, Mike, You're like the perfect guy. You're good looking, you can make me come harder than even my best dildo, and, best of all, you can't tell a soul or you would be deeply, impossibly, irrevocably, fucked," She tugged playfully at his tie while she spoke, adding, "Your feelings about your marriage are up to you. Your wife seems really nice and I don't want to ruin that for you. But then, no one can ever know about this anyway."

She leaned back on the box she was seated on until she was resting on one elbow. Knowing the spellbinding power she had over him she allowed her free hand to gradually hike up her skirt.

He could see then that, what he had taken to be the standard school issue black stockings were, in fact, a pair of incredibly sexy thigh-highs. Another one of Becca's hidden rebellions, no doubt.

"You like them?" She asked coyly. "Sometimes I get so horny I can't wait to get home before I need to touch myself. Things go much faster if I don't have to peel pantyhose on and off each time."

Mike gaped openly.

"The skirt keeps it hidden, but it turns me on knowing how easily someone could find out."

Without warning she suddenly spread her legs, allowing them to fall either side of the rectangular box she was on,and exposing white cotton panties. They were already so damp they were almost transparent. She slid a finger down the centre of her panties, accentuating the deep fold in the material and making the pink skin beneath visible wherever it touched the material directly.

"Your wife never needs to find out about this, Mike. In three months I will be away at an out of state college and you will probably never see me again. This can just be a pleasant memory for you one day when you are sitting in your wheelchair in the retirement home, tugging at your tired, limp noodle." She plucked playfully at the material, almost exposing her moist slit completely. "I'm feeling desperate here, Mike."

"Fuck!" Mike kicked the box, jolting Becca enough to surprise her and elicit a short snort of a giggle. It only made him want her more. "Alright," He growled, "Jesus! Fuck! I'm only human, right? I'll do it, but on one condition."

Her grin was wide, she was pulling the material of her panties tight against her skin with one hand and circling the almost imperceptible bulge of her clit with the other as she said, "What condition would that be, Mike?"

"This time you have to let me taste your pussy."

If it were possible her smile grew even wider, "You see, Mike," She sighed theatrically, "This is why we get along so well."

He needed no more of an invitation, he was already feeling the hunger for her overtake him the way rage overtakes a rabid dog. He gripped her spread thighs painfully hard with his hands, pressing deep indentations into her with his thumbs. He dropped to his knees until his face was inches from where her fingers were tracing whorls over the sodden cotton.

He was an automaton programmed for a single function. He could not have changed direction now if his life depended on it. Her hands were forced aside as he pressed his mouth into her. He felt the coolness of wet material mixed with the heat of her arousal beneath. He let out a wet sounding breath against her, feeling as if all the past month's tensions had just passed over him like a crashing wave and he could now rise to the surface and breath once more.

He wanted to rip the panties off her, but he knew it would be far more tortuous for her if he drew this out, and he wanted to torture her until she begged him to let her come. He shaped his tongue into a broad, flat blade and licked up and down the soft fabric in slow strokes. The taste of her had soaked into the panties and was now coating his tongue.

Becca's head lolled back and she let out a low hiss, just audible over the pounding music. Mike nuzzled and pinched her through the material with his lips, relishing how he could send little muscle spasms through her.

"God," Becca groaned, "Hurry, Mike, someone could come in here. This place is not exactly secret." Though he kept his lips firmly planted on her mound he allowed his eyes to survey the room. She was right. Although the door they had come in through had sprung shut, giving him an initial sense of privacy, the rest of the room they were in was not really a room at all. He could see they were in some kind of wire cage that had been built backstage to hold the more expensive AV and stage equipment. It was tucked into the wings and, although the stage curtains were drawn, there was little protection, should someone come backstage.

He broke contact with her for a moment to say, "I thought that was what got you off?"

"Don't fuck with me Mike, I need to come." Was her only response, but from the hooded expression in her eyes he knew he was right.

He used his index finger to draw a line up the fold in her panties. As he brushed the little covered protrusion she gave a small convulsion. He grinned wickedly as he teased it, "I didn't hear a please in there. Just think, anyone could come through those curtains right now. What would you do?"

As he spoke, and tugged at the little bud he could see the beautiful agony on her face. She was biting down on her bottom lip in that way that made him feel he was going to lose his self-control entirely.

"Please," Her voice came out small and high.

"I'm sorry," He was surprised at how much the role of torturer was inciting his lust, "I didn't hear that."

"Fuck! Please Mike, I want to come with your mouth on me. Please. Please! Please!!"

"Okay, sweet girl. But only because you asked nicely."

The sigh she let out seemed to hitch in her throat, as he peeled aside the sticky material, and kept it pinned out of the way with one hand, allowing him to place a soft kiss on her exposed folds.

Mike was in a haze of her succulent texture, her heady scent and the tang of her on his taste buds. He wished there was more surface area to his tongue so that he could cover every inch of her sex with it. He had to settle for exploring her secret folds and rippled undulations with the tip of his tongue. He made a point of finding her tiny little virgin entrance and circling it over and over until it was quivering. Then he let his mouth move up, leaving no part of her untouched by his tongue, until he found, once more, the little node at her core. As he brushed it her body bucked so hard the box she was on actually shifted.

Mike moved like he were oil being poured over her skin. He tongued her clitoris with reverential care. As he worked he felt the tension racking up in her body alongside the frustration that he would not yet let her climax. She was an overfilled water balloon filled to bursting, and Mike had turned the faucet down to a drip. Any one of those drops might be the one to bust her open, but as each one failed to do so her suffering increased exponentially.

A desperate little hand slipped down and tried to join Mike's tongue, but he grabbed it and held it tight. His other hand still held panties aside. She cried out in frustration, cursing at him, begging him to finish her off. He responded by slowing his pace even more.

Finally, when he had her stretched out and strained tighter that she could have been on the torturer's rack, he made the last touch that proved her undoing. It was just one of several hundred little prods he had made with his tongue, growing progressively lighter as she approached her climax. However, to her hyper-stimulated nerve centre it proved too much.

Bursting was an accurate way to describe what happened to Becca, as she arched up, lifted her hips and began to spasm and shake in erratic abandon. Mike tried to keep his face pressed into her, but was bucked back, feeling his teeth clack together with the force of it, narrowly avoiding biting his own tongue.

She pressed her hands between her legs as if she were trying to stem a leak and shuddered out a long and excruciatingly beautiful orgasm.

As she finally began to calm, laying back and spreading her legs once more, Mike leaned forward and began kissing her with the lightness of a landing butterfly. Each one, despite barely touching her, seemed to give her a fresh spasm, dragging out the death throes of her climax.

Mike had to fight to hold back his grin just so he could continue to use his lips on her. Finally, she seemed able to return to herself, although her body still gave little involuntary shudders that made Mike want to cheer with self-pride.

He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth and chin, still dripping with her juices and said, "There, are you satisfied now?"

Becca collapsed back on the box, staring up at the ceiling, her legs still spread, allowing him the pleasure of a close up view of her glistening sex.

"Oh, Mike. Mike, Mike, Mike!" She said, shaking her head, "You have no idea. I am very satisfied. Oh, I am so happy that the church was no a fluke. You sir, have the touch. It's like you can read my fucking mind when you're down there."

Mike flushed despite himself, and was beginning to feel the shyness of the clumsy schoolboys she had no time for. He had tried everything with Carol, explored every inch of her in their 20 year marriage and, while she had enjoyed it and climaxed fairly regularly, it had never been like this.

Jesus! He felt so alive with Becca. With her he was not Mike Mitchell, the boring old family man. He was Mike Mitchell: Sex God!

He kissed her soft naked inner thighs, while she lay there, getting her breath back. After a short while she propped herself up on her elbows again and looked at her watch. She nibbled on the edge of her bottom lip, in that way that made him want to pant like a cartoon wolf, while she thought.

"We still have a little time before my next thing, Mike. I don't think anyone will have missed us yet. You think you got the energy to go a little more, old timer?"

Mike growled and, for answer, pounced on her, planting a sloppy kiss on her lips, not caring that she might object. She did not, she met him with equal hunger, seeming to revel in her own scent and taste, smeared all over his face.

He gripped the box with straight arms, keeping his weight off her. He felt her hands playing with the buttons on his shirt, slowly slipping lower until they were fingering his belt. Suddenly one of them was wrapped hard against his shaft through the material of he trousers.

"Fuck!" He breathed the word into her open mouth.

"I can still remember what it feels like to have you buried in me, Mike," Becca whispered, "You're still the only guy who's ever been inside me. Does that turn you on?"

It certainly did that. Mike found himself, once more, trying urgently to fight back his body's desire to jump straight to ejaculation. Suddenly he didn't care about what fuckface Tye and his fuckface little friend were saying. Even if Becca was lying, it was still him in this place with her, him making her come and him whose cock was now gripped tight in her fierce little fist.

"A little, I guess," He lied.

She squeezed his cock painfully, "I'm baring my soul here, Mike. A little respect would be nice."

He laughed as he ran a series of small kisses along her jawline and down to her neck, "Becca, you already know you turn me on more than anyone I've ever met. Do you really need me to say it. I have never cheated on my wife before, and probably never would except..." He allowed it to trail off there.

She slackened her grip around him slightly and grinned, "I do know, Mike, but a girl still likes a little acknowledgement." She rewarded him by beginning a slow up and down stroke on his cock through the fabric of his suit pants.

"You know," she began in her playful tone, "I've been doing a little research since the last time we met." Her fingers began to unbuckle his belt.

"Research?" He wheezed out, as she unhooked his trouser button and slipped her hand in to cup the head of his cock, which had been fighting its way past his elastic waistband.

"You know, a little light reading, a few tutorials and, oh yeah, a lot of porn."

"Porn? I thought was just for guys?" Mike laughed, then oohed softly as her fingers began to playfully tug just on the exposed hood of his cock.

"You know what, Mike. You aren't far off. Porn is definitely not created with women in mind, but it did help me to see the kind of things guys like."

"And?"

"You guys seem to like getting your dicks sucked." She looked at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes, seemingly waiting for a response.

After a long silence Mike replied, deadpan as he could manage, "Did you want me to respond? I'll stop you if you say something I disagree with."

Becca rolled her eyes, and Mike almost winced as he was reawoken to the reality that she was still an actual teenager. Legal, sure, but completely off limits to him by the rules of polite society. She was still a teenager and he had her pussy juices smeared all over his face. There had to be something wrong with him that that thought nearly made him come into her palm as her fingers teased him relentlessly.

"Don't get wise with me, Mike. I have some new tricks I want to test out on you, but you need to behave." As she spoke, she removed her school blazer placed it on a nearby shelf.

"I swear, I will not say another word," Mike said as earnestly as he could, before closing his mouth and miming a locking motion with his fingers.

Becca gave him another wicked grin. His fly had come down while she was gradually working her hands lower onto his shaft. She had tucked the band of his boxers under his balls, giving her hands the freedom to explore his entire length, which she did enthusiastically.

Sitting up, she gripped his shaft in both hands and used it to help her slide forward on the box she was straddling.

"Oof!" Mike grunted at her unexpected roughness. But his protest died on his lips as she leaned forward and took him into her warm mouth. Looking down he could only see the top of her head, her long dark hair hid what she was doing, but it felt incredible. Mike felt her tongue squirming around him, responding to the changes in his breathing and the switching of his muscles.

"Shit, she is a fast learner," He marvelled. It made sense though, she was complete polymath in every other aspect of her life. Why wouldn't she be able to give him the best blowjob of his life on only her second attempt?

Her head bobbed slightly, making her long tresses sway. He dug his fingers into the soft hair at the back of her neck and began to give little hip thrusts into her open mouth. He grinned to himself when he noticed the slick trail she had left behind her, across the top of the box.

He had done that to her.

Mike was truly content in that moment, he could have happily let Becca nibble and suckle the tip of his cock like that until he burst into her mouth. She, however, had higher aspirations.

He wrinkled his nose in displeasure as she broke away and looked up at him.

"Aw, poor Mike," she chided, "Is it annoying when you want to come and the person going down on you keeps dragging it out? Well, payback is a bitch. Now, move back," her tone was commanding and he obeyed. She slipped off the box and dropped to her knees. Mike was thrilled, but still had the presence of mind to grab something soft, a costume from some old stage production no doubt, off the shelf beside him and give it to her.

"Such a gentleman," she said with genuine warmth in her smile, "That's why I like older guys, Mike. They really don't make them like you anymore," as she spoke she readjusted herself, this time with the costume under her knees.

Mike enjoyed the compliment, but felt a pang a jealousy at her use of the plural, "Older guys."

Once more, however, his concerns seemed to disintegrate from his mind as her top lip came to rest on his shaft and her mouth encircled his girth. She began to work again, this time with deeper, more forceful movements. Mike had to lean back against a shelf for support.

She sucked him in hard and deep, and then released him. Then she repeated it again, and again, as if she were building up to something. Each time she pulled back she eyed his cock determinedly, as if it were a fresh challenge for her.

Finally, while she took a moment to pump his slippery shaft in her delicate pale hand, she spoke to him, "Can I try something on you, Mike?"

Mike looked down at her sweet young face and smiled. He pointed to his mouth and made the locking gesture again. She narrowed her eyes, saying, "You are cheeky for someone who could have his dick bitten as easily as he could have it sucked."

Mike narrowed his lips and shrugged theatrically. Becca laughed, flashing those heart-stopping dimples again. "Okay, Mike, you can talk," she relented.

He smiled widely and replied, "Becca, short of your threat of biting me, I am your willing servant. Do unto me what you will." He offered her what he thought would be a comical bow, but ended up slapping his cock against her lips as he bent forward. He was rewarded with an impassive glare that only a true teenager can manage. Mike grinned sheepishly.

Becca shook her head, but she did not stop massaging his length.

"I saw this in my, um, 'research material."

"Porn," Mike corrected her.

"Mikey, this need not end well for you."

He swiftly relocked his lips and this time tossed the imaginary key away.

She raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement before proceeding, "I also tried it at home with one of my toys. It was harder than it looks, but I figure it might be easier with something a bit more flexible," she indicated what she meant with a sharp tug on his shaft that made his ass cheeks clench involuntarily.

Suddenly her expression showed her to be the uncertain young woman she never seemed to be, as she looked up at him with her large, liquid eyes. "You won't make fun of me if I do this wrong, will you?"

Mike shook his head emphatically. She nodded, "Yeah, I know you won't. That's why you're the man I want to try these things on, Mike. You're a great guy," her eyes flicked to one side before she added, "When you shut your mouth, that is."

Mike just nodded in mock sadness.

"Okay," she gripped his cock by its base in both her hands, "Here goes,"

Mike was still uncertain what she was up to, until he saw her open her mouth wide, her soft pink tongue proding slightly. He moaned loudly as she took him in and he travelled deeper and deeper inside her. She had swallowed nearly half his length before he felt himself come up against the spongy resistance of her throat. He hissed through clenched teeth.

Waves of discomfort and determination played across Becca's beautiful face as she strained to take him in even deeper. Digging her fingers into his ass cheeks, she pulled her face down hard onto him, holding him there for as long as she could, before releasing him and gasping for air.

"Shit, " she gasped, as she wiped at a thick strand of saliva that had spilled from her lips, "I forgot how goddamn big you are, Mike."

Mike was torn. He had never thought in his life he might get a chance to be deep throated by anyone, let alone someone like Becca. That was something that only male pornstars experienced, wasn't it? But Becca was so sweet and tender, he wanted to tell her not to suffer on his account. Anything she gave him was more than he could have dreamed of. This was in a different realm of possibilities. Something that, even in infinite universe theory, where every possibility was bound to happen, had to be extremely unlikely.