Semra attracts more than just attention on the dance floor

I could see them leering at us, staring at us like dogs. But the attention was intoxicating. I guess the mix of **** and excitement of reliving my youth made me dance with more vigour, more belief in myself. I didn’t just dance, I performed. Giving my audience a show. I made each man feel special. I also goaded them to join me. A few did. But they all seemed awkward and soon retreated to the comfort of anonymity amongst the crowd.

Then one man joined me… one gorgeous, confident man. He was tall and broad shouldered. He stood straight like a soldier and was stylishly dressed like a married man. His hair was salt and pepper and his face was weathered but kind. He exuded experience as if had lived a good life.

He moved smoothly. His hips swayed like the leaves of a Spanish oak caught in a latin breeze. In fact, he outmoved me on dance floor, getting into my personal space. He took my hand and whisked me around, then closed his hands around me from behind, and we slowly rocked together.

He was in control. But I didn’t mind.

His body felt strong and manly. His hands felt my waist then moved down to my hips. His touch was light but confident, yet never gropy. He knew what he was doing to me. And knew I loved every second of it.

I pushed against him. Felt him push back. Then I ground my arse against his crotch. I was being dirty. Dirtier than I have ever been before. But I felt alive.

And I wanted more.

I turned around. I needed to see him. Smell him. Taste him. I linked my arms around his waist and pushed my weight against him, burrowing my face into the crux of this man’s neck. He finally spoke. “You dance well.”

“Not as good as you do.”

He rested his forehead against mine. I could feel his clammy skin, but the pheromones made love to my senses. His open hand spread over my buttocks then felt the weight of my cheeks as he asked, “Let’s go and find a dark corner and get to know one another personally.”

“Best idea I’ve heard all night.” He went to lead me, but I resisted. “One thing first.” I pulled out my smartphone. “I need a quick selfie with my new hunk.”

“Not my thing.”

“It’s part of the deal.”

“Fine, then. If you must. Fire away.”

Quiet and brooding. I like a man who talks in short commanding sentences. I held out my phone while he held me tightly. His hand fitted snugly under my breasts. As the timer counted down I inhaled his musky cologne.

It’s usually me selling dreams, but this time it was me who wanted to buy what he was offering.

Selfie taken. He then led me through the crowd of disappointed men. But I hardly even noticed them. I only had eyes for him. I had even forgotten about Monica. But i’m sure she was enjoying herself.

We found a private booth. It was dark, almost pitch black. Built for depravity. He sat first then gestured for me to sit on his lap. I giggled like a schoolgirl. “But I’ll crush you.”

“Behave and sit.”