Zumba 01

Story Info
A girl's first same-sex experience has serious consequences.
3.4k words
4.29
132.1k
16

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 08/19/2010
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Auria
Auria
23 Followers

In my last year of college I had once kissed a few of my girlfriends during a late night truth-or-dare session. Nothing more than a few quick pecks on the lips, it had never happened again, probably a result of promising myself to never again get quite that drunk, and in the ten years since, those kisses had been the entirety of my experience or interest in any form of same-sex relationship. Until tonight.

Five minutes into warming up my Thursday night Zumba class, the door at the back of the workout room opened. A woman I'd never seen before entered and closed the door behind her. She carried a towel in one hand, and a blue index card in the other. Without intending to or realizing it, I stopped moving and stared, causing most of the women in the class, all of whom had been focused on my lead, to turn around to see for themselves what had distracted me.

Zumba combines spicy Latin music and sensual moves into an intense workout. The exhilarating routine feels more like vigorous dancing at a great night club than exercise, and most Zumba students experience incredible changes to their bodies, all the while claiming to be having the most fun in their lives. Many of the women in my Zumba classes are attractive, and even more are in fantastic shape. And every single one of them, myself included, was immediately jealous of the woman with the blue index card.

The warmup routine came to almost to a complete standstill as she made her way toward me at the front of the class. Her body was stunning, emphasized with obvious intent by a black Lycra workout bikini trimmed in hot pink borders. Outrageous Zumba outfits were commonplace, but bikinis were rare if not unheard of. Even women in amazing shape usually had something they wanted or needed to hide, and if they didn't, wearing a bikini to an aerobics workout was something like wearing an elegant cocktail dress to McDonald's: wholly unnecessary, but you could be certain everyone would be looking, and looking we were. I guessed her to be about my own age, somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, and about five foot nine or ten inches tall. Her body proportions were perfect, her muscles firm and defined while still feminine, and her skin almost glowed with a smooth, natural tan. She had straight, sandy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a gorgeous, compelling face. Watching her approach, sudden strange feelings swept through me that I'd only felt a few times, and never when looking at a woman. I wanted to touch her, to run my hands over the graceful curves and toned muscles of her body, to play with her long soft hair, and to brush my fingers across her face and lips. And then, out of nowhere, I wondered it would be like to kiss her.

Surprise yanked me from my own thoughts. Where had that come from! I had little time to consider it, because she'd arrived where I was standing and was extending her arm, offering me the blue index card. I took it and examined it. She was joining just the Thursday night Zumba class, and her name was Megan.

New students were a regular occurrence. Most often they showed up just before a class, and sometimes, like Megan, they would show up during the warmup. In both cases, either before class when few other women were present, or during the warmup when the class was already moving and working, only a handful of women would learn or hear the name of the new student, who on her first night would then would blend into the class. Some of those new students would become regulars, and some of those would make a large circle of friends, while others would remain relatively quiet and obscure. It was clear that Megan would neither blend nor remain obscure. The room was near still as I greeted her. The warmup music was low enough that the front half of the class would have no problem hearing me. Though I doubted anyone would approach her, women in general being as intimidated by a more beautiful woman as men are by a larger and more muscular man, there was no question that by the end of class every woman in the room would know her name.

"Hello, Megan. My name is Lisa." I started to reach out and shake her hand, then held back, ironically, because I wanted to touch her. I felt that if I took her hand, somehow she'd know I wanted to touch her, that she would perceive in the grasp more than just a welcome. Then I thought I was being ridiculous. My thoughts bounced back and forth like this for a moment, until I finally managed a feeble "welcome to class" while keeping my hands to myself. She smiled and found an open spot at the back of the group and to my right. My eyes, and many others, followed her all the way.

For the next hour I found it difficult to keep my eyes off her. I'd never before looked at a woman with any feeling I could describe as desire, but her sports bikini covered her body in a way that made me want to see more of her. It exposed neither too little nor too much, covering everything that a sensible woman would cover at a public pool or beach, but nothing more. A fraction more material to the outfit and I doubt I would have being drawn back to watching her, while a fraction less material would likely have been considered indecent by the more conservative women in the class. My mind wandered, wondering if the hidden parts of her were as perfect as the rest, and I found myself drawn to watching her dance. I was surprised by the intensity of my desire to catch even a glimpse of what was under the outfit, hoping the animated Zumba routines would pull the bikini back even the smallest bit. It never happened, but this only distracted me more. The level of arousal I began experiencing shocked me, and by the end of class I was in a state of actual sexual frustration. While I found this disturbing, it also motivated a hurried trip home. I skipped the usual routines of showering, changing clothes, and socializing, and a record thirty minutes after class ended, I walked into my house and found Adam in the living room watching television.

By the time he turned to look at me, my shoes and shirt were already on the floor and my pants were on their way to joining them. I saw his eyebrows raise. As married couples go, I would describe our sex life as above average, occasionally great, but it was rare for me to be the aggressor. With Adam watching, undoubtedly curious about where my unprecedented behavior was heading, I continued undressing, removing my leggings and then my panties. Naked now except for my sports bra, I walked over and straddled him on the couch, my knees resting on the cushions on either side of him. With my right hand I reached behind his head and pulled his lips to mine in a lustful kiss, and with my left hand I grabbed his right hand and brought it up between my open legs. The instant he touched me, intense sensations of pleasure coursed through my body. Using both hands I pulled him into the kiss with complete abandon as his hand and fingers explored and caressed my most sensitive parts. But he was being too gentle, too slow. I reached down and grasped his middle and index fingers, squeezing them together, and then forced them inside me. He stopped kissing me, and in the flickering light of the television his eyes registered surprise.

I grabbed his hand lower, pushing his fingers up inside me as far as they would go and ground my body downward. "Finger fuck me. Hard."

My behavior and words were a long way from anything Adam likely ever expected from me, but they had the desired effect. His mouth opened in disbelief, but I watched the look in his eyes change from amazement to lust. I pressed my mouth back to his, and now he kissed back with desire of his own. He spread his legs apart several inches, forcing my own legs further open, and gave me the finger fucking of my life. With each thrust he drove his fingers deeper and deeper into me, increasing the pace. Sometimes he jammed them into me so hard it hurt, but that only made me wetter, even though I knew I'd probably be sore tomorrow.

I had to stop kissing him because I needed to breathe. I locked my fingers behind his neck, arched my body backward, and began forcing my pussy forward and down onto his hand with each thrust. Soon I was fucking his hand as much as his hand was fucking me. At some point I began moaning, beginning to lose myself in the growing sensations. And then during one of the thrusts, Adam's thumb touched my clit. The contact was light, I wasn't even certain at first if it was intentional, but I gasped and arched forward, bringing my head down between my arms. Within seconds I knew it wasn't an accident; my clit was touched with every stroke now, and although his fingers penetrated me hard, the sensations on my clit remained light. A slight shudder passed through me each time I was touched, and the teasing drove me to a point of complete wanton desire. I pulled in close to him, laying my head on his shoulder, and driving myself down onto his hand now with all my strength. Every exhale became an uncontrolled moan, I squeezed my arms and pulled in tighter, I even bit his shoulder, but the torment did not relent. And then, as I reached the point where I didn't think I could bear it any longer, he buried his fingers deep inside me and began massaging my clit hard with his thumb. The orgasm exploded through me in neverending waves, my body shaking uncontrollably with each peak as my muscles tensed and then relaxed. I know I screamed, how many times and how loudly I'm not really sure, but Adam kept fucking me until I managed a few weak gasps telling him to stop.

For a few minutes I could only continue holding him, my head lying on his shoulder, catching my breath. When I finally looked up, I could see the question on his face, and his mouth started to move to give it voice, but before he could speak, I pulled him tight into another deep, passionate kiss. It had been my intention to just lie back now and let Adam fuck me, but as we kissed, I felt myself growing wet again and wanting more. I started moaning softly and running my hands over his back and shoulders. He ran his own hands up and down my arms, over my shoulders and down my back, and then, very lightly, across my ass and down my legs. When he ran his fingers up the inside of my thighs but stopped short of touching me where I really wanted to be touched again, I decided to take control.

I climbed off the couch and Adam's lap. He was wearing his usual lounging-around-the-house clothes: boxer shorts and a t-shirt. Even though the only light in the room was from the television, the erection under the shorts was unmistakable. I pushed him back against the couch, and then pulled off the boxers. His face was twisted into an odd expression, as if he didn't know what to expect next, and it made me smile. I leaned in and kissed him once on the mouth, then turned and straddled his legs again, this time with my back towards him. And then I sat on his lap, guiding him inside me as I lowered my body onto his.

His muscles tensed and then relaxed, followed by a long low moan as he grabbed my hips, trying to move me up and down. Adam and I had used this position only a few times in our six years of marriage, but the one thing I remembered was how much control it gave me. I moved myself up and down on him with slow, small motions. His moaning and attempts to fuck me harder only made me wetter and him more frustrated. Slowly I increased the stroke and the speed, beginning to lose control again when he unhooked my sports bra and yanked it off of me. He reached around and cupped my breasts, massaging them gently at first, then grabbing both erect nipples and pinching them hard. I groaned and surrendered my body to his then, fucking his cock as hard and fast as I could, timing my own motions with his upward thrusts. His breathing deepened and his moans of pleasure grew stronger, and I could sense he was close. I reached down between my legs and began massaging my clit with hard, rough strokes. He came first, but I followed only a second or two behind. I could feel Adam's body pulsing beneath me, and it made my own orgasm more intense. With each wave my body tensed, the contractions so strong to be almost painful, and I screamed each time. I'm not certain how long it lasted, the two of us bound together in a rhythm of pleasure, but when it was over, I could only slump backward against his chest, exhausted.

As we rested, Adam kissed my cheek and neck while he continued caressing my breasts and now sensitive nipples in soft and gentle circles. I closed my eyes and let my body relax to the sensual fondling. Adam was still inside me, and over several minutes as we just sat, quiet and peaceful, he went limp and slipped out with a teasing, excruciating slowness. When that happened, he pushed me off his lap and walked off toward the bedroom, and I stretched out on the couch on my stomach and laid my head on one of the pillows. I don't know how long I laid there, but I think I was close to falling asleep when I felt Adam's hand on my shoulder. He was dressed in his boxers again, standing in front of me, holding out a washcloth. I reached up and took it and found it warm, almost hot. I flipped over on my back and wiped down my entire body. I was amazed at how wet I still was. Adam stood watching, waiting to take the washcloth back from me I guessed, but it turned out there was more.

He did take the washcloth, but instead of walking away, he continued watching me. The continuing gaze started to make me feel odd and overly self-aware. I grabbed another pillow and pulled it to my chest, while turning slightly on my side and pulling up my knees.

"What?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. It became clear that he wanted to ask me something, and there could be no doubt what it was.

"What?" I continued playing dumb.

"I want to ask you something." He paused, and then, "What got into you?"

"What do you mean?" I'd never been a very good liar. I didn't sound convincing even to myself.

"What do I mean?" He smiled. "We've been married almost six years, and that is by far the strongest you've ever come on to me. Including even before we were married!"

"So?"

"So? So I want to know what set it off. Don't get me wrong, I liked it. A lot. But I want to know what did it."

"Nothing." I relaxed and tried to act like I was blowing it off. "I was just horny."

He smiled. "You're a terrible liar you know."

"Adam, there was nothing, really." It wasn't intentional, but I pulled the pillow tighter into my chest and curled toward a fetal position.

Adam laughed. "Yeah, your body language says truth all over it. Give me that."

He yanked the pillow away from me, pushed me back over onto my back, and pushed on my knees to straighten my legs.

"Hey!" I chased after the pillow, but he was too fast and already had it out of my reach. I tried to sit up, but Adam pushed me back down.

"Shhh! Close your eyes." He held me in place, not letting me up.

"What? Why?"

"Lay back and close your eyes. Just do it."

And I did. I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, lying stretched out, flat on my back now. Adam saw me naked all the time, but lying here like this with him looking made me feel odd and tingly.

"Today," he said, "you saw something or heard something or maybe even did something that really worked you up."

I opened my eyes and looked over at him, starting to get up again. "Adam, there really---"

"Lay down." He pushed me back down again. "Whatever it was, picture it."

"There wasn't anything, I'm telling you." Even as I spoke the words, an image of Megan began to form.

"Just picture it, remember it, look at it again, or hear it or do it in your head again, whatever it is."

"This is stupid." My protest was considerably weaker. I had a clear mental image of Megan now, her perfect body dancing around in that damned bikini. All the feelings I'd had in class started returning. For maybe thirty seconds Adam said or did nothing. As I tried to see behind that bikini in my mind, my body reacted in several subtle ways that I wasn't paying attention to, but Adam was. My breathing deepened, my legs parted slightly, I put my hands on my stomach near my waist. Then something touched my hand and made me jump. I opened my eyes and Adam had grabbed my right hand.

"Close your eyes. Go back there. Go."

I closed my eyes again. Adam lifted my hand, and then placed it right between my legs. The instant explosion of nerves throughout my body was intense. I almost came from that single touch. Using my own fingers he began stroking me, and then pulled his own hand away. I almost stopped, to embarrassed to continue, but Megan danced in front of me, and desire was stronger. I rubbed harder as the Megan in my mind began undressing, pulling down the bikini top to reveal perfect, perky breasts and tiny erect nipples. With her back to me, the bikini bottoms came down and her gorgeous little ass swayed to my mind's music. I had never masturbated in front of Adam before, but I was doing it now with complete abandon. As the Megan in my head began to turn around and finally reveal to me that perfect, naked form, I was close to my third climax of the night. A few more seconds were all I needed.

Adam grabbed my hand and pulled it away. I opened my eyes and they pleaded with his own to let go, but as much as I struggled, he was stronger.

"What are you looking at?" One corner of his mouth turned up in a slight, wry smile.

"Nothing. Let me go!"

"No way, not until you tell me." As if to make his point, he sat across my legs, stretched both of my hands out above my head over the arm of the couch, and leaned in close, looking straight in my eyes. The sly smile grew bigger. "Come on, give it up."

I twisted and turned, struggling for some freedom, but he had me pinned. "Come on Adam, let me go. There's nothing. I was just giving you a show."

He laughed at that. "Do people on the stand lie as badly as you do? You're not getting your hands back until you tell me. What did this to you?"

I gave up then, relaxing and letting out a long sigh. I could have made something up, but he was right, I was a bad liar, and what did it matter, really, if he knew? I made a show of wrenching my face into a look of pouty defiance, and then gave him the answer that, while true, would be the last thing he would imagine.

"A girl."

Auria
Auria
23 Followers
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6 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Hot! Very nice!

Auria, hey, don't be second guessing yourself here, this is amazing writing! Can't wait for the next installment! It's like you were inside my head!!

AuriaAuriaover 13 years agoAuthor

@Anonymous just below: Yes, I promise part two will fulfill on part one's tagline. I'm wondering if I perhaps should have just combined them into a single first chapter, but I expected both parts to get published together. I submitted them both at the exact same time, so I'm puzzled as to why Zumba 02 languishes in the "pending" state. Thanks to everyone for all the positive feedback so far!

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago
Great, sensual writing!

I assume there will be actual lesbian sex in part two. :) But, I actually LOVE that you've laid the groundwork for her feelings here and put us inside Lisa's head in a very powerful way. The scene with her husband is very erotic! You write well, and that combined with good storytelling has me anticipating the next part!

AuriaAuriaover 13 years agoAuthor
Zumba 02 Preview

Zumba 02 is actually already submitted, just waiting for approval. In Chapter Two, Lisa is seduced by Megan, and the serious consequences, alluded to in the tagline, that result from Lisa acting on her desires will start to become apparent.

AnonymousAnonymousover 13 years ago

You are a good storyteller! You leave the reader wanting more...well done! *S*

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Zumba 02 Next Part
Zumba Series Info

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