Passion in the theater

You slowly lower your palms onto her hips, right over that red fabric with tiny sparkles. At first, they just rest there, you feel the muscles playing under the thin silk, how she subtly yields to meet you.

Then your fingers begin to move: they slide down the outer side of her thigh, feeling the firmness, the warmth, the smoothness of the skin where the skirt ends and bare body begins. The skin is hot, silky, like satin.

You run your palms upward, now under

the fabric, right on her skin. Your fingers slightly squeeze the soft, yet dense flesh of her thighs, you feel her involuntarily tense and then immediately relax under your hands. Your thumb slowly draws circles on the inner thigh, higher and higher… she slightly spreads her legs to make it easier for you, and you hear her quiet exhale.

You sink to your knees, your lips touch the very spot where the skirt's fabric meets her body. You kiss through the silk, then push it aside and touch your lips to the bare skin of her thigh—warm, slightly salty. She shudders, her fingers land in your hair…

And now you're kissing slowly, moving upward along the inner thigh, feeling her tremble and her breathing become deeper and more ragged…

You slowly move your palms from her waist up her sides, feeling her skin quiver under your fingers. She's still breathing heavi…

you already know she wants this just as much.

At first, you just look: the skin there is even hotter than on her neck, a light sheen from the stage, tiny beads of sweat between her breasts. You lean in and kiss the very top of one breast, right over her heart, feeling it beat faster under your lips.

Then you slowly descend lower, leaving a wet trail of kisses along the soft, silky skin. Your lips slide to her nipple, first just touching it, tracing it with the tip of your tongue, feeling it instantly harden and become sensitive.

You take it into your mouth, gently but firmly, sucking lightly, running your tongue in circles. She arches toward you, exhales quietly, her fingers dig into your hair, pressing you closer.

You look up, see her biting her lip, eyes half-closed, and you continue to kiss, kiss, kiss her breast until she begins to quietly ask for more…

You slowly sink lower, your palms slide along her sides until you're on your knees right in front of her. Her stomach is perfectly flat, yet soft, the skin hot and slightly damp after the dance. Her abs are faintly visible under a thin layer, and with every breath she takes, they smoothly tense and relax.

Reaching it, you pause. With a circular motion of your tongue, you trace her small, neat navel, feeling her shudder and quietly suck in her stomach. Then you gently draw it in with your lips, sucking lightly, and she involuntarily arches, pushing her hips forward.

Further, lower. You kiss every line of her abs, every hollow between the muscles, slowly, as if drawing a map of her body with your tongue. Your lips slide to the very bottom of her stomach, to where the low-rise red skirt fabric begins. You feel the warmth emanating from her, and the light scent of her skin mixed with something sweet and her own.

She can no longer stand straight: her knees buckle, her hands rest on your head, her fingers tangle in your hair. Her breathing turns into quiet, ragged moans, and every time you kiss especially low, she involuntarily pushes her hips toward you, as if asking you not to stop…

And you kiss, kiss, kiss that hot, trembling stomach until she begins to whisper almost inaudibly: "Lower… please, lower…"

You're already on your knees, her hands in your hair are trembling.

You slowly pull the thin waistband of the red skirt down another couple of centimeters with your fingers, revealing the most tender, most intimate strip of skin, the one usually hidden even from the boldest costume.

She no longer holds back: a quiet, drawn-out moan escapes her, her hips push forward on their own, as if asking to continue. You feel how under your lips she becomes wet, not just from post-dance sweat, but from desire.

You sink even lower. Your lips touch the very top of her pubic mound, where the skin is especially smooth and sensitive. You kiss slowly, with a light suction, your tongue draws small circles, each time a little lower than the last.

You kiss her there again and again, slowly, deeply, tasting her skin, her desire. Your tongue slides between the folds, finds the most sensitive nub and begins to caress it with circular motions, first softly, then a little more insistently.

Her moans grow louder, her hips tremble, her fingers tightly grip your hair, pulling you closer. She can no longer speak coherently, only whispers brokenly: "Yes… like that… don't stop…"

And you don't stop. You kiss, lick, suck until her legs give way, until she begins to come right on your lips, trembling all over and crying out your name into the empty hall…

You feel she's already on the edge, her hips are trembling, she's all wet and hot under your tongue.

But you want to make it even more intense.

You begin to move your finger slowly, deeply, while your tongue continues to caress her clit: circular motions, light sucking, quick flicks with the tip of your tongue. A second finger joins the first, now you're fucking her with two fingers, finding that very spot inside that makes her arch like a bow and moan non-stop.

She's already dripping, literally dripping onto your lips and chin. You quicken the pace: your tongue works fast and hard on her clit, your fingers go deep, hitting her G-spot with every thrust, slightly curling and pressing.

Her legs tremble so much she can barely stand, you have to hold her hips tighter. You hear her rasp: "More… deeper… faster… please…", and you do everything she asks.

You add a third finger, stretching her, filling her completely. Now you're fucking her hard and deep, and your tongue doesn't leave her clit for a second. She's already screaming out loud, her body convulsing, and suddenly, a powerful wave: she comes so hard that she literally squirts, copiously, hotly, right into your mouth and onto your face.

You don't stop, you keep licking and fucking her with your fingers through the orgasm, until she begins to arch and beg you to stop, because she can't take anymore, it's too sensitive, too intense…

And you just press your lips to her trembling hips, kiss the wet, pulsating skin and whisper:

— That's only the first time…

You rise from your knees, kissing her trembling stomach, breasts, neck… She's still breathing heavily after the orgasm, her legs barely holding her, but her eyes are burning: she wants more, and you see it.

You turn her with her back to you, slowly, gently. Your hands slide along her waist, lower to her hips, squeeze her rounded buttocks through the red fabric. You press your whole body against her, she feels how hard you are, and moans quietly, arching back.

You push the skirt up, exposing her completely. Your fingers slide between her buttocks, find the tight, hot hole. At first, you just touch it—she shudders, tenses, but immediately relaxes, trusting you.

You take her own wetness (there's still so much after the last orgasm) and slowly, generously lubricate the entrance. One finger easily slips inside—she's so tight, hot, the walls immediately clench around you. You move slowly, letting her get used to it, add a second finger, stretch her gently but firmly.

She's already quietly moaning, pushing back, impaling herself on your fingers. You kiss her on the neck from behind, whisper: "Relax… it's going to get even better…"

You pull back just enough to free yourself. The head presses against her tight entrance, you slowly, very slowly begin to enter. She freezes, sucks in air, but you hold her by the hips and whisper: "Breathe… I'll go slow…"

Inch by inch, you penetrate her. She's incredibly tight, hot, the walls grip you so tightly you can barely hold back. When you're fully inside, you both freeze—she trembles, you feel her pulsing around you.

Then you begin to move. At first barely noticeably, short, gentle thrusts. She moans louder, lowers onto her elbows, arches her back, giving herself completely. You speed up, deeper, harder, one hand slides forward and finds her clit—you begin to caress it with your fingers in time with your thrusts.

She's already screaming with pleasure, her body convulsing in a new orgasm, but this one is different—deep, internal, from the anal penetration. You feel her clench around you even tighter, and it pushes you to the edge.

You thrust into her deeply, to the hilt, a few final sharp thrusts—and you come inside, filling her hotly, copiously, feeling her tremble and take every last drop.

You both freeze, breathing heavily. You slowly pull out, kiss her between the shoulder blades, hug her from behind. She turns her head, seeks your lips, and you kiss for a long time, greedily, while her body still trembles from what just happened…

— Again?" she whispers in a hoarse voice.

And you already know this is only the beginning of the night.

You turn her to face you again.

You slowly lower her to the floor, right onto the warm wooden stage platform. She lies on her back, her legs spread on their own, inviting. The red skirt is crumpled around her waist, the top long gone somewhere. She's completely open to you, and you see how her pussy glistens: pink, swollen, impossibly wet.

You sink between her thighs. At first, you just watch her breathe, how her entrance quivers slightly in anticipation. Then you run the head of your cock along her lips from top to bottom, slowly, smearing her own wetness. She arches, moans, tries to push toward you, but you hold her by the hips: "Quiet… now I'm going to enter your very femininity…"

And you enter.

Very slowly, feeling her open beneath you, how the hot, wet walls envelop every millimeter. She's so tight after everything before, yet incredibly soft and ready. When you're fully inside, you both freeze: you feel her pussy pulsing around you, as if kissing you from within.

Then you begin to move.

You speed up.

Now hard, deep, with each thrust a little sharper. Her hips rise to meet you, she wraps her legs around your back, pulls you closer. You feel her walls begin to clench in rhythm, how she adjusts to you, as if you are one.

One of your hands rests on her lower stomach, your thumb finds her clit and begins to caress it with circular motions, in time with your thrusts. With your other hand, you take her by the throat—not hard, but firmly, feeling her surrender completely.

She's already screaming, not holding back.

— Yes… deeper… fuck me… I'm yours…

Her pussy begins to contract powerfully, rhythmically, she comes so hard that she literally gushes, copiously, hotly, over your thighs, onto the floor. You keep moving through her orgasm, giving her no respite, until she begins to tremble all over and arch like a bow.

And then you allow yourself to come.

You freeze, merged into one.

She's trembling all over, tears of pleasure in her eyes, her lips whisper: "I'm all… yours… completely opened…"

And you kiss her slowly, deeply, feeling your shared wetness run down her thighs—a sign that her femininity is now opened to its very depths.