Constance Knight - Gushing ballerinas

The afternoon smelled of rain, and Judy walked swiftly, knowing the clouds could win out at any moment. A stiff breeze tossed the strands of her yellowish-blonde hair, and pressed the front of her blouse into a form hugging shroud that emphasized the taut nipples of her small breasts. Judy pushed the strands back with annoyance and crossed her arms under the bouncing boobs.

In the three years since her return to her small hometown in the wheat-belt of Central Canada to teach dance tap, ballet, and ballroom she had experienced some frustrating moments. But today, she decided, took the cake. It was more than the minor problems that arose at the studio. It had something more to do with the burning ache in her cunt that had been building for some relief for her steamy pussy, if it meant finger-fucking herself again.

She had began to think with her cunt instead of her head and with the recital tonight, that was something Judy couldn't afford. Her car wouldn't start so Judy decided to walk. Maybe the cool breeze whipping through her jeans would do something to cool her steaming pussy.

Nerves, she told herself. I'm just nervous about tonight. Every time I get nervous, my cunt starts to itching. The recital itself should go okay, she thought, stuffing her hands into her pockets. The girls were ready; the rehearsals had been perfect. It was the times just before and after the recitals that gave Judy time enough to think about how much she missed the fuckings she had grown accustomed to in the city. Her cunt would cream at the slightest hint of fucking. She could feel the nylon crotch panel of her panties working against her clitoris; they had worked into the slit of her cuntlips.

Judy knew if she even touched her pussy to take the panties from between the swollen lips, she would gush all over herself. It would not take much to send her into the spasms of orgasm. She felt as if she had to hurry home and get some relief for her itching cunt before tonight. Maybe in the tub full of warm water. That was always good for a terrific orgasm.

Judy realized that some of the parents would be dissatisfied with their children's parts. And still more would try to pressure her into accelerating the training. One woman had even offered to suck Judy's cunt, or have her husband fuck her if Judy would only give their kid a bigger part in the recital. The woman gave Judy the impression she knew her way around a juicy pussy. Her husband was a good-looker, too, but Judy would not go for it. Not for those reasons anyway; why didn't they approach me differently, she thought. I could go for some hard cock from the handsome man.

So often Judy's explanation on anatomy, growing bones, endurance, and timing met with only more arguments. Normally, she prided herself on being able to handle over zealous parents. After all, she mused, hadn't her mother been exactly the same? Hell, her mother had fucked and sucked half of the willing ballet choreographers in Montreal and Quebec while trying to get Judy a tryout. It was an old, old game.

Above all else Judy's mother had wanted to see Judy on stage. Faye Adams herself was short-legged, with a compact body. But she had possessed the soul of a dancer, and, through her daughter, she would be on stage even if her own best performance was on the casting couch.

Judy's dance lessons had begun at age five with Faye in constant attendance. From that time on, Judy's life had been a flurry of lessons, recitals, ballet shoes, and classical music.

After a brief awkward stage Judy had emerged as a teenager with fawnlike beauty ivory skin and emerald-green eyes with brows thin and naturally arched. Her bone structure was elegant, masking a sturdy strength gained from years of training. Her arms and legs were slim with the long muscles of a classical dancer.

At eighteen, Judy had been accepted into a traveling troupe. She had advanced to soloist; the year she turned twenty, she became a principal dancer. For nearly two years it seemed that Faye's dreams were reality. Then, without warning, Judy's parents were involved in a dreadful accident. Judy's father had been killed and her mother incapacitated. Judy had given up her career and returned to her small hometown to attend to her mother.

For three years, teaching dance had been her profession. Though Faye was bitter, Judy was more philosophical. She was a dancer still. That would never change. And it had been a long time since she'd been fucked like those wheat land boys did it to her. She enjoyed some down-to-earth country-fucking after those city guys had diddled at her pussy it was refreshing.

The clouds shifted again to black out the sun. Judy shivered and wished she'd remembered to bring her jacket. Hoping to scratch that itch growing between her legs, she decided to jog. Maybe the steady working of the nylon panty panel between her cunt lips would ease the desire and slow the flow of pussy juice. If she kept gushing like this, her jeans would soon be soaked through.

Judy quickened her pace to a mile-eating jog. Her muscles responded instantly. There was a fluidity to the motion, a grace instinctive rather than planned. She began to enjoy the run and the way the constant rubbing was sending electric shocks of pleasure racing up from her cunt. Abruptly the clouds opened and the rain began.

Judy stopped to stare at the churning sky. "What else?" she demanded. A deep roar of thunder answered her. With half a laugh she shook her head. Another tingle ran up her spine from the steaming slit between her legs to the nipples that topped her well-formed breasts. She stepped out into the road, her mind occupied with the rubbing together of her cuntlips and the panty crotch sucked up between the oozing flesh.

A rude blast of a horn sent her heart pounding. Her head snapped around, and she made out the dim shape of a car approaching through the curtain of rain. Instantly she leaped out of the way, slipping on the wet pavement and landing with a splash in a shallow puddle.

Judy heard the high squeal of brakes and the skid of tires. "Are you out of your mind?" a voice roared. Above all, Judy felt the cold water of the puddle soak through her jeans and cooling the steamy itch between her legs.

Judy looked up. Standing over her was a raging dark-haired giant with a tanned, raw-boned face. His clothing was plastered against his body by the rain and outlined a firm, well-proportioned frame. Judy stared up at him, her eyes huge, her tits poking conspicuously against the thin blouse, barely concealing the sharp points of her nipples.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded. There was no concern in his voice, only restrained anger. Judy shook her head, and with impatient exclamation he took her arms and pulled her up on her feet. "Don't you look where you're going?" he asked roughly.

Damn, Judy thought, how can I tell him that I was distracted by my pussy's aching need for a hard, thick cock. If he only knew what the matter was, he wouldn't be asking such dumb questions. Aloud she said, "I'm terribly sorry. I did look, but I didn't"

"Looked?" he interrupted. "Then perhaps you need glasses."

"It's not glasses I need."

Rain streamed down her face as she glared at him. "I apologized," she snapped. She brushed ineffectually at the seat of her pants. Each slap sent tingle up her body from the nerve center of the blonde fur-covered slit between her legs. "I don't suppose it occurs to you to say you're sorry."

"No," he answered evenly. "It doesn't. I'm hardly responsible for your clumsiness."

"Clumsiness?" Judy repeated. Her eyes grew round and wide. "Clumsiness?" Her voice broke. "How dare you!"