We met at a dance event a few years ago. Alonso was a fun, quirky guy who captured me with his humor and genuine good nature. He was also a very handsome man who could dance, which you’ll recall is one of my favorite things. We hit it off. It was an easy, casual acquaintanceship that I figured would be a weekend friendship and done. We exchanged numbers at the end. I did not think much of it and in truth we didn’t really communicate for about a year. I wound up back in his area and dropped him a text. We got together with some of his friends for a fun night of dancing and that’s pretty much how the friendship happened. I’d fly in, we’d get together for dancing and then life would happen for the both of us and it would be another year before we saw each other.
It was a comfortable connection, albeit one I always hoped might one day be more. You see, Alonso was kind of the perfect potential stallion. He checked all my boxes. Charming, mature, intelligent, handsome, funny. I certainly would not oppose the prospects of the fantasy becoming physical.
Fast forward a couple years from our first meeting. I had flown in for work. As always, I let Alonso know and we decided to meet up with his friends for a night out. It was a great time of food, drinks and fun company. By the end, we were in his car and driving back to my hotel. We chatted and laughed and he offered to walk me up to my room. I didn’t think much of it. Alonso was a gentleman, through and through.
We arrived at my room and he came inside to continue our talk. I could feel the pull of our connection. It was just us. I’ve heard it eluded to as electricity, the way two people sometimes connect. Obviously that kind of moment requires a lot of factors, natural chemostry, atmosphere, potential. I made a joke that I’d come all this way to see my dance friend and we had not danced at all that night. Alonso rectified the situation.
He cycled the playlists on his phone, put on a slow, rhythmic song, and took me in his arms.
We had danced before obviously but this was new. There was a new, private intimacy. I was very aware of the nearness of our bodies and the way our hips moved together. I’ve written before about the natural sensuality of certain dances. There’s a smoothness, a natural sensuality to it. It was a scene that had been written into countless romance novels and movies and songs. Two people dancing alone in the dim light. Though I’d entertained the idea of Alfonso as something more, I had not hoped or expected anything to happen. But there in the hotel in his arms, I felt our connection deeper than I could have ever anticipated.
There are many things I love about the open marriage lifestyle and right at the top of the list are the unexpected moments and the thrill that comes with a new story.
I noticed little nuances. In between songs, his touch lingered around my waist. My arms around his neck. The energy between us was palpable. We swayed, our bodies connected. My breasts pressed to his chest. I nuzzled into his neck to breathe in his scent. His hands slid lower. My breath quickened against his skin. That touch gliding down, tracing the curve of my ass. I wanted Alfonso. I made my want known by the subtle arch of my hips against him. I could feel his full, thick cock beginning to harden.
It’s difficult to describe erotic sensuality in its purest form. But that’s what we experienced together. No words but the soft lyrics of the song and the guiding rhythm of the beat. Our lips never met. It was just the overwhelming sensation of his touch. He squeezed my ass gently. I raised the barest inch to press deeper against him and tease that throbbing cock through our clothes. It communicated everything. I wanted Alfonso inside me. I wanted him to take me right there and listen to the sounds of our fucking as it mixed with the songs we so often danced to.
“I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he whispered even as he met my hips with his own and we subtly rubbed clit to cock. I felt his other hand at my breast. My breath caught in my throat at the heady rush of sensations, the rising sexual tension. I’ve spoken about the way my body innately responds to moments of purest desire. My stomach dropped. I wanted more. I communicated as much in the trail of my own touch down his body.
“You mean too much to me,” he moaned in my ear.
The song closed out and we stood in our embrace. Do we tempt fate and give in and have our night, or was the memory enough for the present and the burn we felt for each other meant for another place, another time?
I looked up into his deep brown eyes. “Kiss me goodnight.”
A hesitation, only a moment, and then he took my head in his hands and dipped his lips to mine. We kissed long and soft and with a sensual passion I’d never really known. My heart raced. The swooning feeling in my stomach returned. It was one of the best kisses I have ever experienced.
I haven’t seen Alfonso since that night. We maintain our easy, comfortable communication. Still, sometimes I think about our night together. I remember the feel of his arms around me, the insistency of his want for me, the electric passion of our connection. I still get stomach drops from the memory.
Will we have another story?
I certainly hope so.
Until then, I Iook forward to the thrills and continued surprises: a certain stallion’s redemption story and a new, potential stallion who could very well prove to be Alfonso’s match.