Conan dances.

Conan had witnessed slaves, whores and courtesans dance many times in her life and was intimately familiar with the movements of a harlot as she enticed men with her curvaceous body and wanton gyrations. Her widened pelvis and hourglass figure already bestowed a sashaying sway to her gait, her childbearing hips rolling in such a way that her enlarged, rounded rump jiggled with each step as she walked slowly to stand before Khalid. Her walk imitated the exotic dancers she had enjoyed, both in their dancing and afterwards when they had spread their legs and eagerly and expertly milked the impressive cock Conan had been blessed with. The Cimmerian struck the pose she had seen in so many taverns and brothels. She knelt on a knee with head bowed, one arm curled up and over her head and the other curled beneath her ample breasts.

The brass cymbals on Conan's thumbs and fingers rang out, a slow cadence that her body swayed from side to side in time with. For several beats, she remained thus, her body sinuously snaking from side to side. Then her head flicked suddenly up, and she rose gracefully to her feet as the tempo of the cymbals increased. Conan stepped daintily forward, her toes touching the ground first with her feet arched. With each step and ring of the cymbals, her hips gyrated and thrust sharply sideways, first right and then left. The brass beaded strings hanging from her hips swung with her movement, clinking in additional musical chimes and revealing brief glimpses of her kohl-blackened netherlips. Conan closed her eyes, recalling the dance moves of slavegirls she had bedded, the sexual memories making her new sex moist and hot in response.

Conan's slender arms windmilled around her lush body, drawing attention to her generous curves as her fingers snapped together to ring the percussive tempo she followed. Now with each beat, in addition to swinging her hips, Conan thrust her chest forward. The beads draped over Conan's breasts added their rattle to that of the cymbals and waist chains, hardened Kohl black nipples revealed as the beaded ropes slid across the firm mounds of her girlflesh. Conan increased the tempo further, her bare feet now stomping the sand instead of lightly stepping, her body now expressing more animalistic need than sensual titillation.

The Cimmerian moved one hand behind the small of her back, unhooking the clasp of her waist chains. The ropes of beads obscuring Conan's loins dropped away with a musical metallic tinkle, her coal black labial lips visibly gaping slightly and glistening with droplets of her inner wetness. She danced aggressively and frenziedly now, her knees rising high to stamp her small bare feet as her hips and breasts rotated and thrust in time to the beat of her cymbals. Sweat began to shine on Conan's ripe flesh with the exertion and heat of her body. Slowly, she moved closer to the edge of the pool in which Khalid lounged, his eyes locked on the gyrating female in front of him.

Long, curled black hair whipped around Conan's head as she moved in wanton abandon, lost in the beat of the dance and the ignited female lust that was awakening in her core. Reaching the very edge of the pool, Conan fell to her knees, her thighs widely splayed as her body fell back on the sand, and the chime of the cymbals abruptly ceased. Her kohl-black netherlips now gaped widely, the dark pink flesh of her inner sheath shiny and wet between the blackened outer lips. Conan was panting from her exertion, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath and her rigid black painted nipples standing proudly and poking through the brass beads over her breasts.

Khalid rose to his feet and waded through the pool to stand over Conan's supine and trembling body. His cock was poker-stiff from watching the Cimmerian dance, rearing rampantly from his loins and twitching with each beat of his heart and pulse of blood into the veins of his engorged male flesh.