Hello again. I'll  make this little setup brief. My darling sub has confided in me that she finds it a challenge to generate fantasies the way I do. Being a guy, I have an advantage. It's not a matter of being smarter, she's light years more intelligent than I am. It's not a matter of being creative, she's an accomplished dancer and a brilliant young student. It's like this. Guys think with their dicks most of the time. This makes our minds little testosterone powered reactors. The by product of this power plant is often a fantasy. And of course, it usually includes the fairer sex. I should tell the reader. This isn't a jerk off story per se. I hope it will get you off between the ears, but it's not an immediate erotic shot to the brain. I left the darkeyeddemon out of this story. He'll be pissed, no doubt. I'll let him rant later on down down the road. 

One thing I should mention, some events in this story have happened.  Some of them have not yet. But they will ...................    < grinning madly > This one's for you punkin.

Shadow Dancer

It's a late summer night on the east coast. The coastal winds are blowing over the incoming tide, making a gentle haze of sea spray that touches everything close by. Like the gentle touch of a strange woman's hand. Takes you by surprise a little every time you feel it on your skin. The waves crash and roll to and from the shore in a gentle pull and draw.  A summer storm is brewing off the coast. Occasional thunder walks and talks across the sky, accented by brief shudder flashes of lightning. Two shadows are walking along the surf in the dead of this hot Florida night. One is taller, a bit broader, with a big squarish shape strapped to its back. One is smaller and shorter. Looks like a pair of young lovers taking a romantic late night stroll on the beach. But why so late at night, and with a storm soon to reach the coast? 

"Baby?"

"Yes hon?"

"You still haven't told me what's in that backpack."

"You're right. I haven't." He says with a smile.

They walk a bit farther, the lightning making random still frames of their progress. The smaller shadow seems to taking careful steps, the bigger of the two slogs comfortably along.  

"Are you ok hon?"

"Yes, I'm just worried about the crabs out here."

"Don't need to worry. I went to the free clinic the day before you got here."  He said with a wide grin, then stepped in front of her and planted a big kiss on her.

The man is wearing faded old blue jeans and white t shirt. His pants are rolled up several turns. The young woman is wearing a navy blue bikini top and blue jean shorts. Both are barefoot. Every so often you can faintly hear the hum of a car close by. The beach runs parallel with the open road along A1A, about a hundred feet or so from where they are now standing. They relish in the kiss for a moment, then he hugs her close to him. As they separate, the man removes her bikini top with a skilled snap. 

"Give that back!" She yelps.

"Why? We're entirely alone and it's dark. And no one will get close without us hearing them." He answers, tucking the bikini top in his pocket. 

"You're not cold are you? " he asks. 

"No, it's just...."

He leans in close and palms both her breasts. Her nipples immediately stand at attention.

"Besides, someone seems to like the attention."

"They just like when you touch them." She replies.

"Well if you really want your top back just say so. The spot where we are stopping is close by."

"I just don't want someone to see me. Wouldn't that piss you off?"

"Yes it would. Just trust me. I'll see anyone walking up the beach. It's pretty easy actually. Just watch where the water touches the sand. The light reflects there, and you can follow it along as you walk." He tells her, matter of factly.

"Country boy."

"You damn right BABY." He says in an Elvis falsetto, and she laughs as they continue their trek to the coast.

As they progress a faint shape becomes visible in the distance ahead of them. From where they are it looks vaguely like an enormous toy spinning top stuck at an angle in the sand.

"Is that a boat?"

"No. It's an old diving bell. It's absolutely huge. It beached here no damn telling how long ago. Apparently there is a hole or two somewhere in the bottom. I figure the bottom is full of sand. It never moves, even in the surf. It looks like a genuine piece of maritime history."

She listens intently as he talks. He never fails to notice this. She always manages to flatter him with her rapt attention. 

"So how is dance class going?"

"It's ok so far. I didn't realize how out of shape I am." She replies.

"Babe for the last time, you are not out of shape. You're twenty for pete's sake. You may be out of practice, but you are not out of shape." He answers sharply.

"Yes sir."

"Well, don't you think you're being a bit hard on yourself?" He asks as they walk onward. "Anyone who is out of practice loses their flexibility until they work themselves back up to that point. I can't see myself doing a tenth of the shit I used to ten years ago. If I wanted to I could throw myself back into it and be banging in no time."

"But you didn't like doing that."

"I liked it for a while, but the administration changed. So did the job."

The man grows silent for a moment. He exhales deeply then speaks aloud. Almost as is he's talking as much to himself as he is to her.

"It turned into something I wasn't proud of. It became something I didn't want people I cared about to see." He finished.

"I'm sure you have nothing to be ashamed of." The girl said as they walked. She was watching him as he talked, no longer distracted by the thought of stepping on a wayward crab. The thunder is growing closer as they walk. A cool easterly breeze is blowing in over the whitecaps. 

"I wasn't ashamed of my job. At times I was ashamed of what I was responsible for. Now that it's all behind me I can't help but feel ugly and somehow spoiled to the world."

He turns to her and touches her hand. They stop walking and look at one another.

"Look darlin'. I'm not well educated or graceful with words like you are. That's why you always amaze me. Why someone as pretty and cultured as you has anything to do with a jaded old yard dog like me just amazes me. You're the prettiest thing in the world to me. Sometimes the only pretty thing." He finishes, then resumes walking.

"Thank you baby. I don't always feel so pretty, but you always make me feel that way."

"Do you feel pretty when you dance?" he asks. "That seems like a very feminine experience to me."

"Dancing?"

"Yes."

"Men can dance. Alot of the greatest dancers were men." She replies smartly.

"I know darlin'. Women just seem more graceful when they dance. More feminine. Even you get horny watching those cheerleading competitions." He says with a muffled laugh. "Women just look more natural dancing. Like a form of expression that they have a better hold of than most men. Besides, you know me, I have absolutely NO grace and balance. Dancing has always defied me. My body and mind just don't have that communication between them. No rhythm. Guess i'm just a typical white boy." His smile is broad and white in the dark.  

"I don't feel pretty when I dance. All the other girls are so much better than me. I feel ugly and awkward when I dance. That's why I can't do more than just a few steps in front of you."

"But you still love to dance. And I think you're beautiful when you dance."

"Thank you baby. You're too sweet to m..."

Her words come to an abrupt halt when he touches her shoulder. A few yards from them a huge black shape looms over them.

"Take a look around."

"For what?"

"Anything. You won't see anything. We're alone." He says.

"Yes we are." She hums, then pulls him close and kisses him deeply, rubbing her breasts against his chest. "So what is in the backpack?"

"Working on that right now."

He lifts the pack off his shoulders, then turns and sits in in the sand. A long zipping noise follows and then he begins removing item after item. First a folding lawn chair, then a collapsible tripod, followed by a small black leather bag. Last he pulls out a small square plastic pail. It rattles when he moves it. 

"What is all this?"

"Come here babe."

She steps toward him. He pulls her to him, then with a practiced tug unzips her shorts and pulls them down.

"Are you trying to get me naked?"

"Hmmmmm...... DUH!" He answers laughing. 

He hands her the small plastic pail. She shakes it and it rattles. 

"What is this?"

"Sidewalk chalk. Figured you would want to have something to remember tonight by. Draw something on the diving bell maybe. we'll take a picture of it. The chalk will wash off in the surf in a few days time."

"It has a plastic seal around the top."

He reaches in his back pocket, then with a quick flash he flicks his hand forward and the plastic seal falls off between her hands. He slides an old straight razor back into his pocket with a single gliding motion. He picks up the plastic and tosses it into his open backpack.

"Do you carry that thing everywhere?" She asks tentatively.

"Yes young lady, I do. Knives don't jam, don't misfire, don't run out of ammo."

"Well then." She said. " That's educational. So what should I draw?"

"I dunno. Just come up with something. What we do next will depend on what you draw. Draw on the side facing the moon and you can see very good. Moonlight is very bright once your eyes adjust to it. I'm going to be on the other side for a minute setting something up."

"Something?"

He answers her with a raised eyebrow then walks around the bell into the darkness. She stands alone with the surf tickling between her toes for a few moments then, opens the pail and takes out a bright piece of chalk. Above them the storm is growing restless. The thunder rolling up and down the coast now sounds like a constant low drumroll. The lightning dances across the sky with more urgency.  Every stroke she makes with the chalk is illuminated by brief flashes of light. 

It's odd how times becomes more fluid when you're standing close to the ocean, she thinks. In what seems like no time she has drawn a wide picture if a ballerina dancing at the front of a huge flowing waterfall. Her hands are dusted with chalk powder. She pats them together and rubs her hands on her legs.. A hand reaches around her from behind.

"God you scared me!"

"Sorry, couldn't resist. What have you got?" 

The man surveys the picture. he looks from the picture to her and smiles. They kiss sweetly standing in the surf. 

"Now. Stand next to the picture, I want to get a shot of you and your creation. " 

"Do I get my top back?"

"No ma'am you do not."

In the silvery light he can tell she is blushing and at this he smiles. She positions herself next to the drawing and strikes a pose. 

"No, babe. Raise your arms like this." He says. 

She raises her arms a little.

"Like this?"

"No." He says, touching her arm and raising it higher. "Like this." With the words she hears a sharp clicking noise.

She looks up and sees she is handcuffed to the old diving bell. 

"Baby!"

He steps in close and pulls her bikini bottom down around her feet. Before she can protest he nails her with a deep tongue kiss, drinking in the taste of her warm mouth. He leans down and kisses her breast, sucking the nipple gently. He grips her other breast and squeezes it as he gently gnashes at her nipple with his teeth. She inhales deeply, slowly lets out a long quivering sigh. He sits down in front of her in the damp sand. She spreads her legs and arches her back. He kisses her belly button, circling it slowly, lingering in the feeling of her smooth supple stomach. The muscles just under her skin are alive. He slides his hand up her leg and rests his finger in the warm fragrant crease of her sex. 

The first few drops of rain are beginning to fall at random. It hisses lowly as it hits the sand here and there. Small shadows along the beach scurry for cover. Some other shadows become more lively at the smell of rain. 

The man slides his finger inside her, withdraws it out and parts her sex. His tongue finds he clitoris, lapping at it gently, then delves deeper into the sticky velvet seam. He inserts his finger again, pumping it inside her a few times and pulls it out again. He touches her stomach with the sticky finger, trails it up her chest. the finger circles each breast and nipple, finally resting it on her chin. She sighs heavily and opens her mouth eagerly. The smell of her own sex seems her greatest aphrodisiac. She sucks his finger with hungry little noises. He reaches into his back pocket, then forces something into her free hand. 

"What is this?"

"A trigger."

"Trigger?"

"Try it." he says. "See what happens."

With this he buries his face in her crotch, grinding his chin against her clitoris. She squeezes the object in her free hand and there is a brilliant flash of light. 

"It's a camera! Someone will see it from the road!"

"A flash of light in a lightning storm?' He says grinning. "I think not. Besides, we're on the side of the bell facing away from the road. Now pull away from the bell a bit."

She leans forward and he pushes the lawn chair behind her. The seat is situated high, almost waist level. He reaches under her with his right arm and picks her up, seating her in the chair. The chair is made of thick canvas, rugged and solid. 

"Spread your legs for me darlin' "

She spreads her legs willingly and he begins to undress. He is soon standing in front of her, his cock swollen and hard. He rubs the head of his cock in the warm nestle of her pubic hair, then slides inside her forcefully. She sighs aloud and wraps her free arm around.

Flash. 
A frame of her with legs spread wide, the delicate skin of her pussy clinging to the wet skin of his cock inches inside her. 

He pumps inside her rapidly, ending each forward motion with a low grunt and a hard push. Her body rocks with each motion. Her breasts sway with each penetration. 

Flash.
A frame of the man with has arms wrapped around the woman. Her mouth open is a frozen gasp of pleasure. 

He has never taken the liberty to fuck her so hard, so fast. The thunder builds to a hellish crescendo as he slams his cock inside her with brutal force. He can feel her skin move rapidly against his as she breathes. The lightning blisters across the sky in a brilliant sheet of shattered white light. She squeezes the camera trigger at random, capturing their frantic sex in a series of pictures. He takes the trigger from her, shoves it in his pocket. 

"Open your mouth."

She complies, watching him with an animal stare. He slows his pace, now fucking the slick puddle between her legs with an even clock-like pace. He seems to explore his mouth with his tongue, then clamps his teeth together and leans in as if to kiss her. She kisses him and he forces something small and hard into her mouth. She pulls it out of her mouth with her free hand. A handcuff key. 

"Now." He speaks, his words a breathless hiss. 

He begins to fuck her fast again as she fumbles with the slippery key. Each time her hand gets close to the cuff he drives his cock into her even harder. He pulls the trigger from his pocket and begins snapping shots at random. She feels along the flat surface of the cuff, then drives the key into the small flat keyhole. She turns the key and her hand slips away. She wraps her arms around him and pulls him closely as he assaults her young pussy. He pulls his cock out of her 
( almost in agony) and pulls her up. 

"Turn around. bend over." He commands.

She turns and offers her firm ass to him. He grinds his cock between her legs and slides deeply inside. He resumes fucking her in a frenzy. His hand finds the trigger and fires shots at random. There is a small rotary button at the top of the switch. He turns the button and the camera lens zooms in.

Flash.
A frame of his cock impaling her, a slippery web of sex between them. The precious smooth skin of her pussy is swollen and bright pink. 

The young girl is very wet. The taste of her sex is on both their tongues, their loud breath and her feminine screams buried under the rolling wave of heavy thunder. She arches her back and pushes hard against the diving bell, absorbing the forceful blows against her ass. Her cheek brushes the cold iron surface of the bell. Her face is smeared with pastel chalk. She does not notice, concentrating, pushing against him as he exacts his lust from his young submissive. With a great heave of breath and a grunt, he pulls away and slaps her on the ass. She turns and drops to her knees in front if him, mouth wide open with eyes closed. 

Three rapid flashes.

A frame of his cock inches from her pretty young face. The head is shining in the light of the flash, damp with her hot sweet smelling sex. Her mouth is open, tongue out.

A frame later, a veil of cum frozen in time stretching from the head of his cock to her tongue. Drops of white splashing against her upper lip, one random drop on her painted cheek. A small puddle of cum in the cup of her tongue.

A frame later, her mouth is wrapped around the head of his cock. Her cheeks are concave as she sucks madly.

Another bright flash of lightning and we see the man looking down on the young woman. The look of satisfaction, primal hunger and love is beyond description. Men sitting on thrones with a  thousand woman at their heel have never  had a more gratified expression on their face.

"Did you like that darlin' "

"Fuck my mouth please sir."

"Apparently you did." He says, and braces both hands in her hair. 

She tilts her head back and places her hands on his ass. He pumps forward and she utters a small grunt of pleasure. he makes long, deliberate strokes as she inhales his cock. He grabs the trigger again and fires a single shot. 

A frame of his young submissive devouring his cock, her lips stretched around the shaft, his balls pressed against her chin. A thin strand of saliva dripping from his cock and resting on an erect nipple. 

Moments later he pulls away from his love. She opens and her mouth. 

"No. Your tits." He groans.

She obediently palms each breast and squeezes them together. The man exhales and cums in an eruption of thick white drops. The cum splashes her breasts and hands, drips between her fingers. A stray drop lands on her bottom lip. he grunts aloud as his spend leaves him. She grabs his cock and strokes it, a few more drops falling from it into her cleavage. He squeezes the trigger one more time, then falls to his knees in front of his darling. They both sit in silence and slowly regain their breath.  They engage in a long stare between them. 

"The thunder is gone." She says without breath.

"This is the east coast of Florida baby. If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes." He touches the chalk on her cheek. "Let's look at the pictures."

They rise slowly. He walks into the dark to where the tripod is standing in the sand. He removes the camera and takes it to her. He pushes a button on the back, and an image of the last photograph comes into sharp view.  A still image of the young woman with a splash of thick white cum across her breasts and hands. Drops of cum running down to her navel. In the background you can see the remains of the drawing she made on the old diving bell. Between their thrashing, the sea spray and occasional drops of rain, the image was hopelessly distorted. 

"That's a shame." She says. "We ruined the drawing."

The man taps her image on the small screen.

"I don't think so. Looks like a ballerina and a waterfall to me darlin' "

She looks up at him with belittled awe. 

"Don't look at me like that babe. You felt beautiful while we were doing these pictures. I know you did. It's because you are."

She grabs him and holds him close to her. After a few moments they part. he goes back to his pack and removes a towel. He gingerly wipes her clean. He puts the towel back in the pack and pulls out a clean pair of shorts and a t shirt. Both are folded neatly. 

"Thank you baby." She says and reaches for the clothes. He pulls them away from her hand.

"Not yet." He says with another smile. He sits in the sand beside his pack and puts the clean clothes in his lap. He reaches into the pack. She can hear a faint click.  Music floats through the cool damp air. Her smile pierces him. 

He sits back and watches her standing there. She stands in awkward stillness for a moment, then raises her hands above her head. Her legs bend at a delicate angle at the knee, she slowly stands on point in the sand. She makes an elegant turn and runs, extends a leg outward, and with a leap she runs out into the surf.  In the hard packed sand of the surf, she turns and bounds and dances with the sea spray falling about her in a haze of a million small diamond lights. The moonlight  frames the young shadow dancer as the man watches on, a tear burning its way down his cheek.  

Fade to black.

This story isn't just for you punkin. It's not just for me. It's for us anybody whoever thought they couldn't find the words I found here.