1. The Dance


    Date: 8/23/2017, Categories: Interracial, Author: BethanyFrasier, Rating: 15, Source: LushStories

    score derived from American Indian motifs. Our faces were painted in native fashion, and the other two girls had their hair bead-braided like mine, which hung strategically over my bare breasts at the start of the performance. We wore thongs, under ragged-edged doe-skin flaps, hanging from fine, leather strings tied around our hips. We three girls danced low to the ground, as if searching, side to side. Leaning forward on bended-knees, doing squat-lunges with our legs, our arms stretched out to the sides in exaggerated swings. Our bare breasts became visible only fleetingly, when we rose up into the spotlights with our hair thrown back. The effect was titillating, as it was so momentary, our movements, fluid and quick. The anticipation of exposure permeated the dance with only the briefest of teases. The three male dancers held their arms high, revealing palms and fingers which were heavily grease-painted, white on Steve's white skin and black on Jon's and Malcolm's black skin. Halfway through the dance, we employed the critical move. Misty fell back into Steve's arms, while Diana and I fell back into Malcolm's and Jon's. Their hands clamped around our bare breasts as they swung us around in a circle, and at the completion of the move, we were thrown free, with our breasts now covered in grease-paint, in the shape of the hand-prints of the male dancers. Paint now covered our nipples and most of our bare breasts - Diana and I with black hand-prints on our white chests, and ...
    Misty with white hand-prints covering her small, black breasts. With our breasts now obscured under paint, we displayed them proudly. We completed the dance in mostly upright stature, so that our painted 'hand-bras' could be plainly seen by the audience. As anticipated, the unexpected move brought a cheer from our audience every time we performed the piece. The primitive dance was a show-stopper, and the brief moments of nudity were enough to enthrall whatever audience was in attendance, but not overt or sexual enough to keep us from performing it for an open crowd in the auditorium. While I got what I thought was the better end of our bargain, Jon did get caught up in his history courses by the end of the quarter, and the professors in Dulles Hall never found out the reference room in their offices had been used for not only dance-practice, but fire-hot, interracial student sex as well! Jon and I had brought a lot of attention to the dance department that quarter, and our performance inspired more experiments into indigenous dance by students from other cultures. It was the highlight of my sophomore year, and cemented Jon's position as an honors student in the dance department. As I reread the old message in my email, I wondered where he was now. I hoped that wherever he had gone, he was dancing, and that he was still creating as much beauty as we had together, years before. I had intended to close the account, and my finger hovered over the delete button, but I couldn't do it. ...
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