Dance and Sex

Yes, I know it is quite an obvious statement, but I have to get this out of my system without anyone staring at me like I am a crazy pervert trying to ruin their pastime activities. For me, dancing is like sex, a lot, and I can’t see how it isn’t so for everyone.

I just started taking argentine tango lessons, and even though I try to think about dancing well and keeping a straight face, I simply can’t stop thinking about sex. I’m horny as hell. This is why:

We start dancing. My partner smiles at me and takes me in a close embrace. He holds my right hand firmly, his other hand on my back. His forearm slightly touches the side of my breast. I straighten my back and stand completely still, unintentionally closing my eyes so I can feel the way he stands. I try to feel on which foot his weight is, so I know which foot he’ll start of with. I know, and can feel, he is doing the same. I know he is not looking at me, but knows exactly how my body reacts to his.

Hot, isn’t it? And we haven’t even started moving yet!

I feel him taking the first step, leading me without as much as a thought or a movement. Simply by moving himself where he wants to go, and assuming, no, expecting me to follow. I never know where he is going, I just feel it. He leaves me no choice but to go whichever where he wants me to. At first I am slightly nervous, I have to get used to the way he leads me. But mostly I am nervous because he seems to know what he want so well. But it’s no use, I let go and just follow, feel, move.

By the way: have I mentioned I am submissive in bed? Yeah, obviously that is why I love this so much. But also why I am not afraid of following my dance partner without as much as a thought. I´ve done worse than just dancing while completely surrendering myself to a man’s body. Grin… Back to our dance.

As the music speeds up, my partner takes me in a closer embrace. His arm all the way around my back, my arm in his neck, my breasts touching his chest. We could kiss this way, I think, but we don’t, we dance. I don’t care, it’s better. Because we are closer, there is less room for our feet. I have to respond sooner to avoid him standing on my feet. I feel myself breathing faster. His breath speeds up as well. Every little movement of his body has meaning now, is a way of telling me where to go. His feet are where mine were just a moment ago, I have to pay attention, but my mind wanders. It floats away, not thinking, just feeling. The music, the beauty of the steps, but mostly feeling his body: the way he holds me, how he shows me how to move. All around us is lost, I am lost, there is just the dance. Somewhere part of my mind is saying I don’t know the steps we’re dancing. I don’t care, he leads, I’m in his hand now.

As you might have expected I have slept with some of my dancepartners (3 of 5 actually), but this is not even a description of a dance with one of them! This is how dancing, following, feels to me. Can you excuse me for thinking of sex constantly while dancing?

Flavour

By the way: how do you know you’re a sex fiend?

How about when you go shopping for condoms, and the pharmacy (where I live pharmacies are vèry well-stocked with condoms, lube and vibrators) doesn’t have the ones you want. They weren’t even that odd though: I was looking for flavoured condoms. But I found them in the end… now all I need is a guy to give a blowjob to.

Spoiled

Am I spoiled? A brat? Just plain arrogant?

Maybe I’m raging with hormones, or even insecure and trying to cover it up. I don’t know.

All I know is that I want sex. NOW… (or, preferably, yesterday). How fucking hard can it be for a young woman to get laid? I’m not ugly, nor antisocial, nor in a relationship. What the fuck do I do wrong?

Then again, I have only been single for a few months, so what do I know. Maybe men are just not looking for no-strings-attached sex, and want a loving and meaningful relationship. (I’m not being sarcastic here, really. It’s just that right now I’d hate for that to be true.)

But god, do I miss being in a relationship. Not the whole fuzzy-sweet cuddly stuff (I have friends who can tell me they love me), not having someone to talk to. I like being on my own right now. I just miss having someone for sex, whenever I want, wherever I want. I miss having someone longing for my body. I miss having a guy who is willing to skip lectures, work and parties in order to fuck me. I was kind of used to that you know.

Told you I’m a spoiled brat…

And there I was, thinking I had the answer to it all: a fuckbuddy. Not just any, but a good friend, whom I like a lot, I dance with so I meet him often, and who hasn’t had sex in a few years. Should be perfect don’t you think? Me dying to fuck him, him dying to fuck me. Or so I thought… Must have been wrong there: doesn’t sound like you want sex when you take your fuckbuddy to the train after she hinted that she definitely wouldn’t mind missing the last train and sleep over. Seriously: what better plans can you have on a Saturday night? Doubts started entering my mind: Am I lousy in bed, boring, unattractive, too obvious?

So here I am, Sunday morning, bruised ego and raging with hormones. First time in my life I really feel single. Now what?

I didn’t know

Sometimes it must be hard to be a guy…

Have society make you feel you have to be “tough” all the time

Being turned on and not being able to hide it (I’d hate that!)

Not being able to whine to your friends about your feelings

Having women pretend you’re a complete ass when it comes stuff like cleaning

But most of all, not knowing how women feel about you. Cause seriously, if you men had heard me and my friend Liz talking yesterday, you’d feel so much better.

Me: That MUST be the hottest guy I’ve seen in ages!

Her: What, the waiter-guy?

Me: Absolutely, he is so my kind of guy! Tall, skinny, facial piercings, lame skater-boy clothing: I can pretty much see his butt, his pants are so low, and I don’t mind!

Her: He is cute, the skinny thing works for me too. I hate it when a guy is all muscular!

Me: YES! Gross, triangular shaped guys… yuck. But this one… He has strong arms from waitering all day, big hands, always useful in bed, and… Fuck it, I want him!

Her: *Grin* Yeah, men like subtle girls like you. Must be your dry spell.

Me: So what, I definitely want to have sex with him. But how the hell do I chat him up? I can hardly say: “Can I have the bill please? And by the way, you’re totally my type, what time are you off?”. How ‘bout I try: “I’d love to chat you up, but I don’t know how. Do you have any advice?”, while trying to keep a most innocent facial expression?

Her: Yeah, subtlety really isn’t you thing, is it?

I didn’t have the guts though. We ended up in a sexshop spending 150 euro’s on vibrators… But the point of my story is, besides the fact that I’m desperate for a good shag with a hot guy, that I realized I wasn’t sure if men know this. If they know how women talk about men, feel about men.

Surely I’m not the only one who has a thing for skinny men, I know this. But do you men know?

And do you know that the girl eying you, might very well be me (or one of my sisters in lust) dying for you to chat me up and fuck me afterwards? Women lust after men, just as much as the other way around. Women definitely objectify men, although it may be on other things than you expected.

Did you know?

Then again, I didn’t know until yesterday that I was a pussy when it comes to chatting men up. Afraid to be rejected, or at least to come on to strong… Apparently, just as men feel they should be tough (mentally and fysically) (and please, don’t!), I feel that as a woman I should be the one chatted up, not the other way around. Pathetic!!

Sometimes it is hard to be a girl…