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Belly Dance

Belly Dance  
    
     “Honey, what I have in mind will sound outlandish. But you must comply with me because this will make you pop a willy to end them all.”    
     “Why not just do the horizontal lambada in bed? It is always worked for me” I say.    
     “Now, now hubby, new ideas, new experiences, you must be open. It is my command.”    
     “You’ve never steered me wrong. That is why you handle our financial matters.”    
     “Ok, so here is the basic idea. It really isn’t complicated so just follow along with me. You recall my belly dancing classes from last summer. Well, here is the plan. You watch me shake my watusi for you until you are hard as the rock of Gibraltar. And then you release your stiffy from the undie fly. I’ll lead you from there.”      
     She sparkles like liquid sunshine. Her belly undulates like a far off ocean with waves rolling into shore. Her navel ripples like that of an orange afloat in a barrel. My eyes follow her in her gypsy glitter. She turns and bounces her derriere so close I could bend down and kiss her cheeks. Yet I gaze with glazed eyes upon her supple flesh as she calls to me, a Bedouin waif summoning her lover with primal yelps. Her buttocks hypnotize me into deep delirium. There is no changing course as I rise to her beckoning.      
     She faces me with the freedom of her undulations which beckon like a liberation. With the ease of a cook wrapping a tamale she rolls me with effortless grace with her fingers and presses the tip of my cayenne pepper into her navel in a surprise. My crest reddens with my cock held stationary by her as she rolls her belly button on my most sensitive coat of arms. Each twist and turn of her body sends delicious prickles across my shield until the combination of delight and ticklishness overwhelms me.      
     Suddenly, she becomes a vertical ocean wave bearing down upon my love knot until she drapes me with veils until my eyesight is shaded in pink. The friction of her tummy button juices my jalapeno in to a fullness which pushes me into the golden age of my sexual youth.    
     Her hand tightens around me until I become a lightning rod struck by the thunderbolts of her friction. Her nude twinkie is a female force and the gateway to deeper taboos. Her dance steams me with her heat an invitation to the mystery of this exotic new spice in our love life. A hint of raven curls pokes out majestically from her low slung hip sash. Each roll of her hips charms me with the promise of her fertile crescent. My deepening struggle finds me in the hardening reality of my cock weeping tears of joy. Soon, my trunk sends flakes of the gold of birth in flashes caught like dreams on her skin.      
     “Darling, how did you do it? With only your little dip to rub me, you sent my nerves into nirvana.”    
     She says, “My, oh my, you left your mark on me. Clearly, you didn’t need the full show to get going.”    
     I reply, “Your innie was precisely designed for our strange combobulation.”    
     She says, “Now I’m going to wipe off your ding-a-ling before it goes soft because if you tuck it in like that even heavy duty detergent won't take the stains out.”  
     She scrubs my endowment like she is cleaning algae off an immodest statue of a man.
Written by goldenmyst
Published | Edited 26th Jul 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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