(Here's one for you, Bully!)
They were an amateur Polynesian dance troupe, mostly young Filipinas, who had come to entertain at my best friend's birthday party. Not the best I'd seen, but they were pretty good and trying to get better. They started with a number of slow, graceful Hulas, the hand movements a little studied, not quite as graceful as they would be with a tad more practice. Next, they changed costumes and got into the faster Tahitian dances.
Since I was the birthday boy's best friend, I was right beside him, front row center, not two feet away, when her top began to slip. The strapless band of fabric was apparently designed to be held up, at least in part, by the dancer's breasts. The unfortunate young lady in the front rank of dancers, however, apparently didn't have enough to hold it up, especially when the dance required her to raise her arms. What she did have, my buddy and I found out for a fact, was lovely, small, brown nipples. When I raised my eyes to her face, it was red, and she was looking straight at me.
Embarrassed for her, and at myself for having been caught staring, I smiled warmly, trying with all my heart not to let any amusement show. She braved out the rest of the dance, pushing the top back up after each arm raising motion, her eyes never leaving mine. Each time the dance called for her arms to be raised, the top would slip again, and the smile on her face became more and more strained.
I could hear titters and whispered comments from the other party-goers, but, thankfully, no one laughed out loud or made any lewd comments.
Her eyes locked on mine, the poor thing somehow got through the rest of the dance, while I poured sympathy into my expression, trying to provide what support I could.
A little later, they came to the audience participation part of the program, and Teresa, as the MC named the unlucky young lady, wearing a different top, dragged me from my seat.
"Thank you!" she whispered in my ear, standing on tiptoe, as the birthday boy got busy making an ass of himself with another dancer.
I just smiled in return, not really sure I'd done anything thanks-worthy.
"You were my lifeline there," she whispered again, "during that little 'wardrobe malfunction'!" (Thank you, Janet and Justin, for the addition of THAT little phrase to our lexicon!)
"Didn't really do anything." I whispered back.
"You let me know that at least one person in the audience wasn't enjoying my embarrassment," she said, "and that helped me get through!"
Then came my turn to make an ass of myself. Turns out, Polynesian dances are primarily done with ankles and knees. That's what makes those delectable hips swing and sway so provocatively, and tiny Teresa was really good at it when her top wasn't falling down. I, on the other hand, couldn't get the hang of it, much to the amusement of all and sundry. (I noticed later that all the guys tried to dance with feet apart, while the girls kept their legs close together. Hmmm!)
It's funny. I don't like laughing at the embarrassment of others, but don't mind embarrassing myself for the amusement of those around me. In the midst of the laughter at my clumsy efforts, however, I, a die hard belly man, was treated to a prolonged, close up view of one of the prettiest bellies I'd seen in a long time, doing some of the sexiest and most amazing things atop those swiveling little hips.
As we bowed out of the limelight, Teresa asked, "Can you wait around a while after the performance?"
"Sure!" I replied.
I hung around, drinking water while most of the others were getting sloshed. Birthday Guy had a big place, and most of the guests figured to crash there after the party. I didn't live far away, though, and didn't feel like spending the night with a bunch of drunks, even if they WERE my friends.
I was sitting on a barstool watching the antics of those around me, when a soft voice asked, "Is there somewhere where we can talk?"
I took my keys from my pocket and offering my arm, said with a smile, "Come with me."
She was quiet during the short drive to my place. At the front door to my apartment building, I was on the wrong side and had to reach across the opening to hold the door for her. My arm was extended straight out from my shoulder and Teresa walked under it without ducking or stooping, she was that small.
Inside, I offered her something to drink and she accepted bottled water from the fridge.
"You dance very well." I said as I handed her the bottle and a glass.
She shrugged and said, "Not that first Tahitian dance! If I hadn't caught your eye, I probably would have run away in tears!"
"I'm afraid I didn't catch much of that dance," I replied, smiling from one corner of my mouth, "I was a little distracted. I did think it was very courageous of you to continue!"
"Was... um, could you see," she fumbled with what she wanted to ask, "uh, did I, you know, expose too much?"
"Well, personally," I said softly, gazing into her eyes, "I would love to have seen more. In answer to your question, however, I'd have to say that most of the audience now knows how delectable your nipples are. I wouldn't be surprised if you get asked out by some of them when they sober up."
She smiled ironically and replied, "I was kind of hoping you'd lie to me and tell me you couldn't see anything... !"
I shook my head, "Never found hiding from the truth to be a good practice. The bad news is, you got exposed in public. The good news is, it's an eminently survivable episode. You'll learn from it, and move on."
She was silent for a little while then, looking up from under her brows asked, "Do you really think my nipples are 'delectable'?"
"On first glance, certainly," I replied, smiling, "but I'd need a longer look, and a thorough lengual inspection to know for sure."
"'Lengual inspection'?" she asked, breathing a little faster.
"Like this..." I said, slowly lifting her tank top over her head. Thankfully, the bra was a front hook design, and parted easily. Her breasts were small, in proportion with the rest of her, and perfectly formed.
To the accompaniment of her indrawn breath, I bent and quickly flicked one tiny brown nipple with the end of my tongue. It hardened instantly, and I kept it alive with a fingertip as I moved to the other. Three quick flicks with just the tip of my tongue, and this one, too, became rock hard and even smaller.
Switching back to the first, while lightly rubbing my rough fingertip over the one I'd just left, I took it between my teeth and bit - just hard enough to draw a gasp from Teresa, followed by a guttural moan. Her soft, childlike hands wrapped around my head and cradled it as I switched back and forth, teasing her sensitive nipples, and occasionally sucking an entire miniature breast into my mouth, swabbing its surface with my tongue.
Teresa's moans were now the background music for the dance her hips were doing on the sofa, as I continued tormenting her small, beautiful tits.
Suddenly, I backed away and said hoarsely, "Definitely delectable!"
Teresa blushed and thrust her chest at me, "Are you sure? Maybe you need to inspect them some more?"
What could I do? I gave them a VERY thorough lengual inspection, which I enjoyed almost as much as she did!
"Teresa," I whispered, as I came up for air "tell me your deepest, darkest sexual fantasy!"
"No!" she shook her head, shocked "You'll think I'm crazy, or worse yet, a slut!"
"Fantasy, Teresa dear," I replied, "We all have them. They don't change who we are, only how we think about sex when we're alone."
"You promise you won't tell anyone?" she whispered into my neck, as she put her soft arms around me.
"Not a soul." I whispered back, "This is just for me and you, for right now."
"When I'm alone," I could barely hear her, "I sometimes think about being taken by several big men, all at once!"
A shiver ran down her spine as she told me this.
"If that fantasy could come true," I asked, "would you want it to?"
She sat back, even more shocked, "Oh, no! I could never really do it! It's just something I think about! Maybe if it was just one guy..."
"What do you mean, 'one guy'?"
"Well," she replied, not meeting my eyes, "every guy I go out with treats me like a fragile little porcelain doll or something. I mean, that's really sweet, but just once I'd like to see what it's like to be used. To be nothing but a sex toy for some big guy with a big... well, you know!"
"Well for starters," I replied, "it would be very painful... !"
"I know," she said, "but do you know how hard it is to enjoy sex when you're being asked 'Are you okay?' every couple of minutes? Just once, I'd like to try it with someone who's not afraid of hurting me. It would have to be someone I can trust, though. I mean, I don't want to be injured or anything, but I think a little pain might even add to it."
"Do you know someone you trust that much?" I asked.
"Yes," she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, "You!"
"How can you trust me that much? We just met?"
"If a guy who's a total stranger can sympathize with me when my top slips," she replied firmly, "instead of laughing with the rest, then I don't think he'd really hurt me any other way. Would you be my cave man for one night, Bill? Please?"
At first I wondered how she knew my name, since I hadn't actually introduced myself, then I remembered the MC asking who I was, so the audience would know who they were laughing at while I attempted to dance.
.... There is more of this story ...