The diner that evening was a casual affair, cruising the ‘eat the street’ line up along the waterfront, deciding what we wanted. It was just a prelude to our main entertainment for the night, the bands playing at the open air square outside the tavern.
This nightly entertainment was one of the things that made me think getting the experience of a Hamilton Island Race Week was something worthwhile; particularly since I like dancing.
In a way, that goes back to when we first met Liddy while on the Pacific cruise.
One of our stops had taken us to the local yacht club, which had a band playing. Ellen and I were looking forward to a bit of close body dancing with Ned when we noticed Ned chatting to an attractive woman at the bar as he was buying us drinks.
At that stage, far from thinking the fact we were half Ned’s age was a competitive advantage, there were times we viewed it as a handicap. If Ned was looking for a longer term relationship, he was smart enough to know that an age appropriate partner was a better prospect.
And as Ned introduced us to Liddy that night our blood ran cold. She was less than a decade younger than Ned and absolutely stunning, and completely charming to boot.
But what really left us both face palmed in fear was when he took her on the dance floor. They could both dance. I mean really dance. Properly dance. They broke into a rock and roll jive that had everyone in the room watching them. You would have thought they’d spent a lifetime dancing together.
To make it worse, Liddy dress was made for dancing and looking man stealingly good while you did so.
It was a red halter neck style with a string neck tie supporting a deeply plunging top which consisted of nothing more than a pair or triangles over her breasts until a couple of inches under her breasts where it expanded into a full bodice. You wouldn’t say the unlined triangles covered her breasts; more provided a modicum of modesty to her nipples, while displaying an impressive cleavage and side and underboob display and completely failing to supress any high beam display the nipples put on. Overall, maybe not quite as much was on display as our over the top tiny bikini tops, but not much off it. And Liddy’s breasts are nothing if not impressive as they jut perkily out from her slender torso, even if they aren’t what nature gave her.
At the back, the bodice was cut away all the way down to her bum; the bodice being kept tight against her body by string ties that zig zagged down her back.
Where her waist curved out to her hips, the previously body-con dress flared; the light spandex material draping seductively over her figure and about a third of the way down her shapely thighs while at rest and spinning out horizontally as Ned threw her into spin turn after spin turn as they danced. Every male in that room — and most of the females — could have described to you the tiny, matching red panties Liddy was wearing under that dress in exquisite detail.
Our face palming that night was well justified by what we were seeing.
Fortunately, although as our paths crossed and inter-wound over the course of our cruise Liddy may have stolen Ned’s heart, she became one of the Screw Girls, rather than the man stealer we feared.
But the sight of her dancing inspired both Ellen and me to learn to dance when we got back. In the end, Ellen’s husband Harry and Issie and her husband, together with Ned, Ellen, Liddy and myself had some very pleasant evenings doing group lessons at the local dance schools and using our new found skills at whatever dance venues we could find.
Which meant we coveted dresses like the one Liddy had been wearing.
It turned out she had made it herself — along with a number of others of similar ilk she had.
So she helped us make our own ones. We resisted the temptation to make them out of the same colour material. Four of us all in identical matching dressed would be too much.
While the general pattern was too nice to deviate much from, I made mine out of a nice, very fine burnt orange glitter spandex that went well with my more olive skin. Ellen went for a metallic gold to match her daringly different take on the dress and Issie an iridescent blue. Given the amount of crotch we’d be displaying dancing, we made sure we found or made a nice pair of minimalist string sided bikini pants in a matching colour to wear under them.
Ellen of course had to take it to an additional level. The top half of the ‘dress’ was not greatly different, but at the hips, instead of circling her body and flaring out, the skirt part of it was split by a two inch gap both sides, held together by a single stringy strap at the waist. So in the end, the dress became a front half, looking much the same as ours except for the squared off sides in lieu of the cut away back, and a back half consisting of nothing more than a flap of material draping from just above her bum to not nearly far enough under her crotch; all held together above her hips with ankara iri göğüsleri olan escortlar a spider’s web of string ties, but open and unsecured from her hips down.
With the amount of flaring of the skirt greatly reduced, she reminded me of the go go dancer in the background of the Ricky Martin ‘She Bangs’ video, right down to the way Ellen would wiggle her bum as she danced. And of course, as she spun in a turn, instead of a nice tidy horizontal circle of skirt, the two flaps would do their own thing, light decorative chains at the hips flying out in a seductive circle while the flaps did everything except cover her arse and crotch.
And she often wore the dress with a g string bikini bottom underneath; although for this night she had matching metallic gold, string sided, Brazilian style bikini pants.
In it, Ellen would always steal the dance floor. Most of the men in the room would be sitting watching her; bent over in frustration.
It was so stunning, I asked Liddy to make one for me too in metallic silver, but it wasn’t my choice for the first night.
What I quickly discovered was that whether you look just plain bold or completely slutty in these dresses very much depended on how tightly you tied the neck halter, within about a three inch margin.
With these dresses, if you moderately tightly hitched the dress up with the neck tie, it gave you an almost demure 50% boob flesh coverage. Three inches longer on the neck tie and the top of the triangles on your dress would drop down to just cover your nipples and not much more, but the skirt would hang three inches lower on your thighs.
I split the difference. High enough my nipples wouldn’t pop out, but nowhere near high enough to cover much boob flesh or ensure they remained immune to a down top peak if I failed to hold my shoulders back.
Not having been part of our dance thing when it was running, Julie and Shelley were dressed in cleavage displaying, mini body con dresses; Julie’s very party like in a metallic material, Shelley’s more casual.
All the girls were wearing strappy heels.
The guys were in Chinos, in the case of Ned and Harry or shorts in Adam’s case, with short sleeved collared casual shirts.
By the standards of the crowds as we cruised the street to get our dinner, we were a tad overdressed; at least in style, but far from it in terms of the amount of material covering our bodies. For the most part it was a more casual scene.
Julie’s friends found us as we were finishing our dinner and we drifted up towards where the band stage was set up and the band already playing.
I’ve always thought I must be a little defective as a member of my generation. I’ve never had the slightest interest in the music festival thing of just sitting around, nodding you head in time to the music. When a band is playing loud rock music, either you get up and dance, or I pretty quickly lose interest.
And yet, that is basically what the crowd was doing — and it was quite a crowd. Around the periphery, and in a half circle down near the stage, maybe about a quarter to a fifth of the audience were making use of the music. The rest were standing or sitting around, a drink in their hands, looking like a bunch of stoners as their heads nodded and, just sometimes, their feet taped.
I don’t know about Julie or Shelley, but there were at least four girls and two men in our group determined to change that ratio; even if Harry was a bit reticent to go against the majority of the wider crowd.
I let Liddy have first turn with Ned and stood and watched as they, with Ellen and Harry, mingled in with the group of dancers and started doing their thing.
Almost as soon as they started, Liddy and Ned dominated the dance floor. In the half light, and from even the shortest distance, Liddy look more like she was twenty than the 50ish mother of three that she was. Nothing in her flawless olive skin — from spending most of her life in religiously mandated high coverage clothing in New York — nor in her slim, taut, perky breasted figure or long mane of blonde hair gave away her age.
When you see Ned and Liddy on the dance floor it looks like they’ve spent a lifetime dancing together, instead of the bare two years. They make it all look so easy and natural and they break into crowd pleasing moves I haven’t even started to learn yet.
For at least half the time they danced, Liddy’s panties were fully on display as he dress flew up; a tiny red bikini brief that marked the termination point of her long slender, perfectly shaped legs as the sensuously moved through the spins and steps and marked the transition to the perfectly flat stomach that was amply displayed above its waistband.
But I dare say, among the younger male crowd at least, the sight of Ellen dancing with Harry was equally, if not more compelling. They might not have the practiced style of Liddy and Ned, nor did the fairly wooden dancing of Harry showcase Ellen in the way Ned does with elvankent götü büyük escortlar his partners, but watching Ellen’s body, wiggle and spin to the music, especially in that dress, was something to behold.
Ellen has got the cutest, most perve worthy arse I’ve even seen. Not in some sort of gross, inflated, fat, what’s it going to look like in twenty years, Kardashian sort of sense. No it’s all shapely, muscular flesh and blood in the most womanly sort of way. As Ned is willing to admit, she’s got one of the few butts that genuinely looks great in a g string. With extra-long legs relative to her torso, her glutes are tall and narrow, not squat and fat, and mounted on licentiously curved feminine hips that just scream sexuality at you.
And Ellen knows how to wiggle and flaunt it.
It’s impressive and distracting enough as she defies stereotypes as she expertly reverses the yacht into a tight marina berth in her tiny bikini pants.
For young men it must be leg crossingly teasing to watch her on her dance floor as the little piece of material, covering her sumptuous butt, flips from side to panty displaying side with every wiggle and then rises into a luscious fully displaying arc as she spins through a turn.
Issie and I watched from the sidelines; waiting for dance partners. But we were far from alone. Shelley and Adam were still getting to grips with the idea they might actually dance, while Julie, and the rest of us, were swarmed by her friends from the TP52’s.
The two I’d been sitting with over drinks earlier, with a couple more mates, circled me; trying to talk to me over the sound of the music. But I’ve never been a fan of yelled conversations over loud music, so mostly nodded heads in reply while tolerating and being almost bemused by, their difficulty in staring at anything other than my breasts and attempts to get down blouse peaks at my nipples; which given the dress they were probably rewarded with.
With the press of the crowd, they were also standing in close contact with me; but no more so than we’d been earlier as we sat over drinks.
After a few dances with Liddy, Ned came and rescued me by taking me for a turn on the dance floor too; giving me a chance to do my own display. Maybe not as skilled as Liddy and not as much booty wiggling as Ellen, but I knew it was drawing attention from the group just the same.
It seemed one of the guys had built up enough courage to ask Issie to dance, because she was soon alongside us. The guy didn’t have a clue how to dance or how to lead a woman while dancing, but I could see Issie was enjoying herself, doing spins and steps as the guy basically wiggled and juggled about alongside her.
As Ned took a brief break before taking Liddy back on the dance floor, one of the guys who’d been taking to me earlier pounced on me for a dance. I figured it was better than standing there nodding my head at forced conversations, so accepted.
A bit like Issie’s partner, he didn’t have a clue about proper dancing, but made a determined effort to dance with me; which I reciprocated by doing a lot more than just doing my own thing in his general vicinity. He tried dancing with joined hands and had a couple of goes at leading me into a spin and seemed to like the result, so repeated it as often as he dared.
I could see him enjoying the sight of my body dancing; there was little more than occasional glance up to meet my eyes. But I didn’t hold that against him. It would be hypocritical of me to dress like I was and then complain if he found the sight irresistibly compelling; especially since my breasts were making determined efforts to escape my dress as they carried the momentum of my turns to swung from side to side more than the upper part of the dress was capable of.
As the music slowed, I let him pull me against him for a shuffle dance. With Ned I might have been doing a waltz or foxtrot, but I could hardly expect that from him. The real question was how closely I let him embrace me.
During the course of three successive slow tunes, he gained more confidence and I eventually found myself in full body contact with him; his crotch pushed against mine and his chest brushing against my nipples as he swayed to the dance.
For the most part, I had to be amused. Clearly, he still hadn’t realised I was a good five to six years older than him, since he can’t have been more than in his mid-twenties, if that.
There was a good deal of sexual intention in his body’s movements. And being a bit younger, a sexual reaction. He wasn’t that tall and with my heels and higher leg to torso ratio, the hard semi-circular bulge in his pants, probably prevented by his undies from growing vertically, had slipped under my own crotch and was in contact with my crease; held there by his hand on my butt.
And I could feel it grow harder as we danced.
Plus I sensed the movement of his shirt against the triangles covering my breasts was intended to expose my nipples; etimesgut çıtır escortlar something probably confirmed by the way he kept looking down the gap to see if he’d achieved his goal yet.
Of course, my nipples being like they are, had their own reaction to the brushing. Sensitised, they hardened into the jutting edifices they become when stimulated; the areola puffing into a volcanic cone and the nipple itself extending like a cut off telegraph pole from there to a much greater extent than seems to be the norm with most woman.
So this was intimate dancing and not lacking in sexuality.
And as he noticed my nipples and the way their projection made the loose covering provided by that unlined triangle of fine Spandex material increasingly precarious, his efforts to dislodge them became even greater.
I know most girls or women wouldn’t stand for that unless they knew the guy better or were equally as carnally inclined as he was. So why was I willing to, especially as Ned was not far away?
That’s a difficult and complex question.
Until this week, I’d only been in any sort of, even innocent, close contact with two men my whole life. One was Frank, my abusive partner of ten years who wouldn’t let me go anywhere near another man. He captured me as an innocent and naive waif at 18, before I’d ever had a boyfriend or any experience with men or boys before.
The other is Ned who, for as much as he loves and looks after me, worries I am wasting my life on him given our age difference. He’s always encouraged me to keep an open mind about considering a younger long term partner should the right guy come along. He would be having mixed feeling about watching me dancing like this. One part would be pleased I was enjoying the company of a young man (or at least seemed to be), but he’s only human. Another part would express a fear of losing me, which I’d be frankly disappointed if he didn’t feel.
Technically I’m even allowed to sleep with another guy — a ‘sleepover’ as it was called from the time our relationship first started — if that helps me see a better future for myself. Now there’s no way I’m going to do that, whatever the ‘rules’ might seem to be. I love Ned far too much for that.
But the contrast between the love inherent in Ned’s approach to me and Frank’s selfishly controlling approach is extreme and very much explains my attachment to Ned.
Because of the gaslighting Frank did to me, he managed to persuade me I was unattractive and made me dress very unattractively, as a way of undermining my confidence in the presence of other men. It was Ned who guided me to the fact that, far from unattractive, I was actually quite beautiful and, to put in bluntly, could be an incredible man magnet if I even half wanted too.
And occasionally letting the man magnet side of me come out is a great way of boosting my confidence and putting to rest the effect of Frank’s gaslighting.
As Ned says, if a guy gets prick teased in the process, that’s his problem.
Now I’ve had plenty of guys try and chat me up. But really until that moment — well really, probably until I’d been sitting so close to the guys earlier today – there’d been no reason to have any real physical interaction with them. Even in the dance classes, I was mainly dancing with the instructor, Ned and Harry and we were all using the more demure dance school frame; probably mainly so I didn’t step on their feet.
So this was really the first time I’d got to experience a young guy’s body pressed against me since Frank. He was nicely built, clearly fit, given the boat he was sailing on, and not unattractive; although in a bad boy sort of way. A bit cocky personality wise and definitely too optimistic in his approach to women, but still personable as far as it went.
And yes, my body was reacting to his provocations. Obviously my nipples had hardened as he brushed them, but more as a result of being physically stimulated than one of attraction, and the brushing of his hard cock against my mons had produced a response. Not the sort of rip his clothes off and take him that Ned doing the same thing would generate, but I was definitely aroused.
As the next tune picked up the tempo a bit, he still tried to dance with our crotches joined; sort of like a Samba or Salsa might, even if he knew nothing of the sort. The faster pace certainly increased the stimulation; probably for him even more than me. Indeed, I strongly suspect he had to stop and go into separated dancing again when he nearly boiled over.
As married women, Issie and Ellen dealt more strictly with the young guys they danced with. Keeping them a little more apart, and in Ellen’s case, constantly having to keep them from slipping their hands under the back flap of her dress and onto the cute naked butt that lay beneath as she wiggled away with it.
Shelley tended to stick with Adam, although other guys certainly tried to hit on her. Julie was clearly popular with all of them and, from what I could see, not afraid of a bit of close in dancing as she worked the group. But being shorter than me, probably didn’t get half erections pushed between her thighs.
Still, I watched intently as Ned had a break, then another dance with Liddy. As soon as he returned to the sides, I called time on the young man and took another turn with Ned.