I LOVE square dancing!

Case in point, I’m a member of a square dance club in Mukilteo, Washington, on Puget Sound, about thirty miles North of Seattle. Last Friday night, the sixteenth of June the club had its tenth-anniversary dance, having invited the top woman caller in the state, Deborah Carroll.

Deborah is an amazing square dance caller and singer, performing across the country, but she wasn’t what made this particular dance quite so outstanding, it was the dancers themselves. Well, one in particular. This club, the ‘Sound Squares’ (as in Puget Sound) is primarily adults, most aged from their twenties and up, with very few kids. Consequently, unlike most other dances I’ve attended, this club can get, shall I say, a bit ‘risque’. The younger ladies’ skirts are more often than not very short, held out by the full slips (petticoats), revealing the women’s panties (pettipants in square dance lingo) when twirled.

This dance was more like a mini-festival with Deborah calling and sixteen squares of dancers (eight dancers per square). Most of the dancers were couples but there were many singles, too, both men and women, including me, with a badge identifying us as singles, making it easier to know who was looking for a dance partner.

My name’s Jess, twenty-three. I’ve been square dancing since my parents, my big sister (two years older), and I learned when I was fourteen. It’s a great way to meet people, girls especially, have fun, exercise, and sharpen one’s mind trying to keep up with the caller and the other seven dancers in the square.

My problem is that I’m a very shy guy. Asking a pretty girl to dance has never come easy for me like it is for so many others. I originally learned with Jamie, my sister as my partner, but I’ve gotten to know several of our club members pretty well over the years, well enough to ask them to be my partner. But it’s never gone further than that, I’ve never had the courage to ask any of our dancers for a date outside square dancing.

At this Friday night dance, my shyness was thrown for a loop that I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from. There was a young woman that I hadn’t seen before, just holy-shit, fucking hot! I’m a crappy judge of age, but if I had to guess I’d have said somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Just watching her in a square with another guy made my heart pound, my palms sweaty, and my eyes bulge.

Not only was she drop-dead gorgeous, wearing what looked like a silk or satin blouse, buttoned down the back to not distract from her very ample and completely unrestrained assets. Braless is not a thing in square dancing, which is why this aspect of her outfit was so surprising; and a skirt and flouncy slip combination showing off a lot of those long, sexy legs.

She was tall, probably nearly six feet with her high-heeled dancing shoes; long, coal-black, silky-looking hair down to the center of her back not quite to her waist; just about the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen; and on top of all that she was the most vivacious person I’ve ever seen, making every guy’s head turn, kicking up her feet, laughing, smile lighting up the entire room, and when she twirled, flashing those hot pants, I mean pettipants, my heart almost stopped.

I had to close my eyes, take a breath, and try to pretend I hadn’t noticed just how tiny they were. And, far as I was concerned, her best feature was the ‘single’ badge on her blouse right over one of those delectable, braless tits. Where had this girl been hiding herself?

I wanted to get in a square with her so damned bad it hurt. I asked one of my frequent partners, Marci, to dance the next tip. Each set of two dances, a ‘pattern’ set that the caller makes up as she goes and a pre-choreographed singing call, typically music from a popular country song, is called a ‘tip’ – don’t ask me why. Yeah, I know, pretty crappy to use Marci to get close to this Goddess, but I was desperate ... and too shy to ask her outright.

Marci and I have always enjoyed dancing together, and there’s nothing even remotely romantic between us. After all, she’s married, her husband has a bad knee so can’t dance. And I do know how old she is - fifty-one, three kids, all grown. I suppose all of that is what originally made me comfortable asking her to dance that first time way back when not long after she first started coming to our dances three years ago. Since then, I’ve been to their house for dinner several times and we’re all good friends. They’ve kind of adopted me as a surrogate son since their ‘kids’ all live far out of town, not even in neighboring states.

But that was then, this is now. The way Marci looked at me when we followed the Goddess to a square, she knew exactly what I was doing, not that she seemed to mind. My dream girl was across from us with her partner, some slob-looking guy. Nah, I was just jealous of him, my first ever stab of jealousy toward a girl. Her name tag said her name was Karyn, no last name, just Karyn. What a fitting name for such a gorgeous creature, I thought. And there definitely was a ‘single’ badge over her left boob, right above her name tag.

She was holding the slob’s hand, his name was Scott. How damned boring is that! We were waiting for the remainder of the squares to fill, Deborah pointing here and there for others to fill in. The whole time we waited, Karyn was bobbing her head back and forth, doing little part-twirls, and waving her arms, all in time with the music Deborah was playing, like she just couldn’t stand being still for even a minute. God, she was so unlike anyone I’d ever danced with. I could hardly wait until the girls moved around the square changing partners and she was with me, even for a few seconds.

It isn’t often that you see a girl square dancing with no bra. This was one of those times, her nipples making themselves obvious, clearly hard from excitement.

It wasn’t long until Deborah put on different music and started in, “Bow to your partner, give your corner a little swing,” in her beautiful sing-song voice. My corner was another younger girl, I’d guess mid-twenties, about my age, but nothing like the girl across the way.

We went through a series of moves between our corners and partners, and then with the opposite couple. I was actually holding hands with ‘her’, warm and so friggin’ baby-soft. I didn’t even try to imagine how soft other parts might be. I couldn’t wait until I heard, ‘swing your girl,’ when she was my partner on my right. My square dance skill seemed to betray me completely, my feet and hands having no idea what they were supposed to do when close to her.

And then that fateful call when she was on my right, the partner position, “Weave the Ring, swing your partner.” Around the square we went, girls clockwise, boys the opposite, slapping hands, girls doing their sexy little twirls as they passed each guy. My heart was pounding, anticipating ... and then the swing. I gripped Karyn around her waist, my left, her right hands interlocking fingers; Karyn’s left hand around my back, and pivoted, her kicking her feet out behind her, trusting me to support her, letting out a loud, “Yeehaw!” as we swung.

There were four more opportunities during that tip to swing my dream girl, each time a little more spirited. It seemed she was extra exuberant whenever she and I were together, but maybe that was just my hopeful imagination. She danced unlike anyone I’d ever seen with her exuberance. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said she’d been drinking, but drinking and square dancing do not go hand-in-hand. One must keep his/her wits about them to follow a fast-paced caller. When the tip was over, Marci knew exactly what was going on in my turbulent mind, whispering in my ear, “Now ... ask her to dance the next one ... she liked you.”

I looked at Marci. “You really think so?” I asked her. It seemed to me that Karyn had liked everybody.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Ask. Her,” was all she said. She knew just how bashful I was.

I watched Karyn for another little bit, trying to not be too obvious, before Marci gripped me around the waist, turned me toward her, and pushed. Karyn had already found her seat where she’d been sitting next to some other girls, chatting away. Her skirt and slip were well above her knees where she sat, her topside doing wonders for that blouse.

My heart was pounding as I walked toward her and her friends. I know that that ‘single’ badge is an invitation to ask, but still ... I was a nervous wreck. I’d never asked anyone to dance who even remotely looked or danced like her. Hell, I’d never seen anyone like her. I glanced back at Marci, still watching and smiling, motioning with her fingers, ‘go, go.’

That twenty feet or so seemed to take forever, my feet feeling like they were made of lead. “Hi,” I tsaid when I reached her. She looked up with a smile on her face. “I really enjoyed dancing with you last tip, could I ... ask you to dance next time?” I don’t know how my face looked, probably white as new-fallen snow. The rest of me was scared shitless, like I knew she was going to scratch my eyes out for even daring to interrupt her.

She looked up, a bright smile on her face, “Thank you, I enjoyed it too, I’d love to.”

My heart about dropped to the floor!

So we ended up together the next tip ... and the one after that ... and the next one, too, her sitting with me in-between, my emotions running so sky-high I could hardly believe what was happening. Not only was she gorgeous, a fantastic dancer, sexy as hell ... and God, did she feel good in my arms, but she was so much fun to be with in between the dances, too. Nothing like her had ever happened to me before.

She wanted to know everything about me: my family (two sisters, one brother, the brother and one sister twins seven years older, parents still alive and well); what I do with myself (work as a mechanic in a privately owned shop); and so on. I managed to get a little out of her but not a lot. She’d just moved here a few weeks earlier from Wyoming, of all places, now a receptionist in Doctor Phipp’s office here in Mukilteo. I’d bet that office is kept lively, maybe I need to change doctors. One thing I didn’t ask was her age, you simply don’t ask a girl. She wasn’t wearing a ring and didn’t mention anything about a guy, so I presumed she wasn’t married or engaged. Being alone and that badge kind of confirmed her unattached status, too. I was already head-over-heels in love!

Except, I wasn’t looking for a life partner, just not ready for any permanency. But if I was ... Besides, I didn’t have a lot of ‘love’ experience. I’d had a few dates but only two of which had made it to home base.

And then the doofus from that very first tip had the nerve to ask ‘my girl’ to dance again, taking her away from me. All I could do was sit and watch, my jealousy already rearing its ugly head. There was just something about this girl, even beyond the obvious.

I sat there and watched her with this guy, probably a little more okay than I was giving him credit for, but that was my girl he was dancing with. At least for another forty-five minutes until the end of the dance. I didn’t like him with her, not even a little bit, her having to pretend to be having fun with him. My only consolation was being able to watch her skirt and slip flying up, showing off those tiny pettipants. And then it was gratifying when the tip was over that he escorted her back to the empty chair beside me.

There were a couple more tips with the most heavenly female on earth before the dance ended for the night. These aren’t late-night dances, seven till nine-thirty, then another half-hour or so having an after-dance snack. It had been the most enjoyable two-and-a-half hours I’d ever had by a factor of about a thousand! I wanted to ask her about something after, but couldn’t bring myself to do it, even after the wonderful evening we’d had.

One thing for damned sure, I was going to be masturbating as soon as my door closed behind me. Probably many, many nights to come, too.

However, as we were finishing the snack, she leaned over and asked me, “Want to come to my place for a bit?” She smiled, “Maybe a little more dancing ... or something?”

I’m not sure what my expression had turned into but Karyn’s calm face was surely much more composed as she let out a little giggle. Of anything I might have expected it was not this! Go home ... to her place? For dancing ... or something ... Damn...!

“Ookay.” I finally managed to say at least something. “Yeah, I’d love that!” I added quickly, so she wouldn’t think I might not have wanted to. There was nothing at that moment that I wanted more!

“Wonderful, why don’t you give me a minute to fetch my husband. Meet us out at our car in five minutes, it’s the bright red Kia.”

Wait ... what ... husband?

“I ... husband ... you’re married?” I stammered, “I didn’t know...”

She giggled, “He told me that if I want, I could invite someone home. Well, I’ve never wanted before, but I do now.” She looked around to see if anyone was close enough to hear, then whispered in my ear very softly, “I think he wants to watch ... and I really want to have some fun giving him something to watch.”

I was having a hard time digesting this; husband ... watch? Badly as I wanted to, I just wasn’t so sure anymore, this suddenly sounded weird.

I thought about it for another half-second or so. “Okay ... five minutes, I have to use the restroom. See you outside.”

I got up and headed into the bathroom, looking in the mirror when I got there, afraid the butterflies in my stomach might make me puke. I didn’t have to go, but damn, I needed a minute to process what had just happened. My face looked every bit as shell-shocked as I felt. Was I really going to go to a girl’s house and let her husband watch us fuck? Hell, fucking yeah, I was! No way in hell was I going to miss a chance with someone like this Goddess, married or not, as long as her husband was really on board with it. I wasn’t the kind of guy who would contribute to cheating but that wasn’t what this was. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but it wasn’t cheating, not as long as he knew about it. At least that’s what I told myself.

And as long as I was in the bathroom, I did go, a little at least. I didn’t want to have to interrupt anything later with a trip to the bathroom. Besides, I had a pretty strong hunch that my cock was going to be hard as hell in a very short while, and it’s not so easy to pee with an engorged dick.

I checked my watch, damn, I’d forgotten to check earlier, not that I hadn’t had an excuse. My mind was a bit distracted, a complete jumble to be honest. I waited a couple more minutes, a few other guys coming and going, before I felt recuperated enough to leave the safety of the bathroom.

On the way out I looked for Marci. She and her husband, Ron, were still sitting, eating a piece of carrot cake someone had brought. I shook Ron’s hand and gave Marci a friendly goodnight hug. She whispered in my ear, “Saw her whispering to you, you’re going home with her, aren’t you?”

My face must have turned bright red, giving me away completely. “Did you know she’s married?” I asked Marci.

She chuckled, “Ooh, naughty, naughty, I think you’re going to have fun this evening. If Ronny and I were a little younger...” kissing me on the cheek.

“Marci!” I chided her before turning to leave. It made me wonder what she’d been like when she was my age. She’s still a very attractive lady, even in her fifties. I suspected she’d been a real siren not so many years ago, before I knew her. I couldn’t bring myself to imagine her inviting some random guy to their house, though, like Karyn had done.

The hall’s parking is public, with lots of cars other than square dancers. Nobody would think anything about my truck still in the lot after everyone else had gone home, anyway.

I spied a bright red, sporty-looking car after scanning the lot for about five seconds. I should have known that someone like Karyn wouldn’t be in some typical, boring car. As I got closer, that thing looked awesome. The back door swung open when I was a few feet away; I glanced around to see if anyone was looking and slid into the back seat, right next to my Goddess.

She’d taken off the bulky square dance slip, and her skirt was riding high on her thigh, much higher than it had been either dancing or sitting. My dick was already getting hard.

“Home, James,” she told the driver, her husband. For the first time, I glanced up front. Another shock, it was the ‘slob/doofus’, Scott. That guy she’d danced those two tips that I’d been so jealous of and deprecating in my mind was her husband!

Karyn’s hand was in mine and she scooted over next to me, buckling the center seat belt around her waist. Hubby glanced in the mirror and started the car, pulling out into the street.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” she said, her hand on my cheek turning me toward her, her lips descending on mine. God, her lips so indescribably soft, melding into mine, opening slightly, her tongue probing through the gap, her hand slipping a little further behind my neck pulling me into her, leaving zero doubt as to where she intended the evening to go.

However, it was only a brief, yet so meaningful kiss. She pulled away, her eyes still closed, opened them looking into mine, “Only rule ... if Scott says stop, we have to do as he says, no matter what, okay? We’ve never done this before so kind of treading the unknown here.”

I glanced forward at Scott, watching us in the mirror as he drove. I sort of hoped he had at least one eye partially on the road. If that kiss had been a preview, this was going to be one hell of a night! No way was I going to mess it up.

“I’m good with that. You too, though, if you’re uncomfortable, just say so and we’ll stop.” God, I hoped that didn’t happen! I couldn’t even imagine stopping the inevitable now.

She smiled and began kissing my neck, nibbling on my ear, “I’ve been so wet all night, looking forward to this.”

My arms just naturally went around her. I was right earlier, I think every drop of blood had pooled in my pants, I was so hard!

I have no idea how far it was to their house or how long it took to get there. She and I made out in the back seat while hubby drove; kissing, nibbling, hands wandering. By the time he pulled into the garage and the door slid shut behind us, I was nearly out of my mind.

Inside, Scott asked if I’d like a drink. He looked about as nervous as I felt. We were all nervous, him on what I guessed was his easy chair, Karyn and I on the loveseat, the three of us sipping our drinks. I had no idea what it might have been, I’m not much of a drinker. All I knew was that it was pretty heavy on alcohol of some kind.

“You sure, Hon?” Karyn asked her husband.

He rolled his eyes, “Sure? Hell no,” he said, “all I know is that we’ll regret it the rest of our lives if we don’t go through with it. So, yes ... if you want, I want this to happen, too.” His voice relayed the fact that he was scared to death.

After his acquiescence, Karyn looked at me, about six inches away, “I’ve been thinking about this all night, wondering if I’d have the courage.”

Suddenly, that vivacious girl from the dance, exuding confidence from every pore didn’t seem nearly as sure of herself.

“Now that it’s here,” she went on, “I know the answer.”

She got up from the loveseat, found the remote for their satellite TV system, and found some music that I would say was probably soft rock, then stood right in front of me, that smile on her face, the same smile as the first time I asked her for a dance. Her body started moving, her hands sensually stroking herself, “Another rule ... you can’t touch until I say.”

She closed her eyes, letting out a little moan, hands caressing her breasts. Just this little display was driving me insane with lust. She’d been driving me crazy all evening but this was on a whole new level.

She started toying with the hem of her skirt, pulling it up her legs then letting it drop, over and over, a little higher each time, humming along with the music. She opened her eyes and just loud enough to hear, “I want your pants off,” she said.

I wasn’t about to question the lady, kicking my boots off, unzipping my pants, lifting my butt off the loveseat just enough to push them down, never taking my eyes away from Karyn, who, at the same time, was disposing herself of those sexy pettipants.

My cock was like a steel rod covered by nothing except my thin Buck Naked briefs. Thank God the fly has a button or there’s no way it wouldn’t have been poking itself out in the cold. She pushed her pettipants down over her stocking-clad legs, leaving the stockings intact. Fine with me, I love the feeling of silky stockings high on a woman’s thigh, not that I’d had a lot of experience (Umm – none), but my imagination was running wild. I knew I would love it.

She sat down on me, straddling my legs, scooting herself up to trap my cock between us, and nibbled on my bottom lip. She’d said no touching so it took a supreme effort to keep my hands pressing down on the couch instead of wrapping around her as she pressed her tits into my chest, grinding herself against me.

“The answer,” she whispered in my ear, “is that I don’t have the nerve ... unless I have a bit of liquid courage first.” Then I felt her tongue tickling my ear. “I’ve had my drink. Why don’t you ... unbutton my blouse.”

My eyes widened and I let out another groan, a little louder this time. Think I mentioned before, Karyn’s blouse buttoned down the back, frilly in front, thin satin, just ... too damned opaque for my taste, not that it was hiding anything the way it caressed her body, hinting at what was underneath. I’d been imagining all evening the treasures underneath.

I briefly wondered what her husband must be thinking or feeling when I reached around her and began unbuttoning, starting at the top, pulling her to me at the same time as her lips descended on mine once again.

About the third or fourth button undone, those damned buttons were like every two inches down her long, slender back, her tongue and lips retreated just enough to let out a little giggle. I couldn’t imagine what, at that moment, was so funny. It didn’t take long to be apprised of the humor in the situation, “When Scotty was buttoning it earlier, I teased him that he might have to watch some other man unbutton it. Guess I was right, hunh.”

I glanced over at ‘Scotty’, still sitting on the couch, with one hand down the front of his pants, eyes wide. It made me all the more want to help his wife give him a show he’d never forget, not that ‘a show’ was the purpose as my hands briefly abandoned their task to caress the exposed part of her back.

We kissed, I clasped her back, squeezing her to me, her blouse about half open behind her.

I knew for a fact that I’d remember this night for the rest of my life. If I die by morning, it’ll have been worth it!

She pulled her lips away, glancing over at her husband, his hand down his crotch, then back at me, “The rest of it, I’m really getting horny.”

Now my fingers were starting to shake, anticipating, fumbling with the buttons. The closer I got to the bottom, the harder they shook, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering harder. None of the other girls I’d been with had done anything even remotely like Karyn, and like I’d said, those could be counted on one hand with fingers left over.

After that last button, when I reached up, planning to slide it off her shoulders, she stopped me, telling me, “Wait, something I need to do first,” her fingers beginning to unsnap my western shirt, “I think it’s only fair, don’t you?”

I leaned forward and Karyn worked my shirt off my shoulders and down my arms. Damned long-sleeved shirts, all the men wear long sleeves square dancing, the theory being that women don’t like grabbing men’s sweaty arms. It’s always seemed a little sexist to me, I’ve never minded a woman’s sweaty arms, why should they object to mine? I let her work it down my arms, about halfway, then she let out a little giggle, leaving my arms trapped in the sleeves.

Instead of finishing the job, she reached up, crossed her arms, and tortuously slowly, giving several glances to her husband, pushed her blouse off her shoulders, using one arm, then the other to hold it up in front, keeping herself covered. “Sweetheart,” she said, addressing her husband, “would you come take this, please.”

He got up, a somewhat stricken look on his face, took the couple steps over to his wife, extending his shaking hand, all of this seemingly taking place in ultra-slow motion. Karyn lowered her arm from her breasts, letting her blouse fall away, and handed it to her husband.

I was in awe, this gorgeous woman whom I’d fallen in lust for within minutes of seeing her was now straddling my lap, totally topless, her breasts and upturned brownish-pink nipples right in front of me. God, I wanted to reach out and touch them but my hands were still trapped by my shirt sleeves. She was looking straight at me, biting her bottom lip, when she whispered, “You can suck them, they’d like that.”

Was this fucking girl for real? The thoughts jumbled in my head but one thing was for damned sure, my lips descended on her left tit, that hard nubbin in my mouth. I closed my eyes momentarily, my dick responding to this sexy woman, lips and tongue rolling her nipple. She let out a groan, gripping my head and pulling, “Suck it, suck it hard!” she moaned, rolling her hips against my erection, still trapped inside my Buck Nakeds.

God, I wanted my arms free to wrap around her, but I did as she asked, sucked, first her hard nipple, Then more of her tit, sucking it in my mouth, gentle bites. “Ooh, ooh, that feels so good,” she was moaning, her fingers pulling at my head, fingers digging into my scalp.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening, nothing like it had ever happened to me before, the whole fucking night! I pulled at my arms trying to get them free of the damned shirt. Karyn finally relented and pulled the sleeves off. I reached around, pulling her tighter to me, filling my mouth with her breast, sucking hard. Her moans grew, and I switched to the other, using one hand to roll the nipple I’d just released between my fingers.

We went on, my mouth switching back and forth, my opposite hand massaging the released breast, pinching her nipple. Karyn seemed almost frantic with her moans, doing even more to turn me on, as if ‘more’ was even possible.

Neither of us were paying any attention to Scott, I had no idea what he might have been doing, my attention was totally focused on Karyn tits, what she was doing with her hands in my hair, my hands digging into her back. Later, I realized the scratches I’d left.

“Enough, I can’t take any more,” she said, pulling my head away, then scooted back to stand. Damn, I couldn’t believe how sexy this woman was when she stood in front of me, her breasts maybe a little oversized for her body, nipples red and distended; tight, smooth stomach with a dainty little button. She reached behind her to the zipper in the back of her skirt. Her fingers seemed to be shaking almost as badly as mine had been with her buttons. A few seconds later, those fingers were underneath the waistband of her skirt, pushing it down.

If that fucking husband said ‘stop’ now, I’d no doubt have to kill him!

“Off with your shorts,” she told me. No probs, I lifted my butt and pushed them down, the thought that another guy was seeing my erection for the first time never even entered my mind. It was totally occupied by the woman in front of me pushing her skirt down.

My heart was pounding, my dick sticking straight up, harder than stone. She was wearing a satiny, barely-there, black thong, glistening with its dampness, nothing else, except her stockings and shoes, but those only added to her allure. At least, I thought it was black, so sheer that the color hardly made a dent, hardly hiding the pussy lips underneath. “I put them on because Scotty likes to take them off, not so much the pettipants. I wonder ... would you like to do it instead?”

I wondered if she could see the drool I was sure was dripping down my mouth. My wide eyes and my head were on that thong. There probably wasn’t drool but I wasn’t exactly paying attention.

I reached out and touched Karyn’s bare skin with my fingertips, feeling up and down her nearly naked hips, “Yeah, I think so,” I finally answered her. Fuckin ‘A’ I did!

But first I pulled her to me, kissing her belly button, exploring it with my tongue, her hands massaging my head through my hair, little moans emanating from above.

When my tongue and lips began straying lower, leaving a little trail of dampness, the groans became louder, much louder. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of lips against soft skin, the aroma of sex, gyrating hips, the sounds of bliss from Karyn. I very briefly thought of her husband, sitting and watching. I wondered what it would be like to watch your life partner being pleasured by another person.

And just as quickly as it had begun, the thought was gone as my fingers found the elastic of her thong and began pushing it down.