Traditional Dancing With Sanjay

When I was eighteen, my boyfriend Sanjay respected me and treated me with great affection. Even though we had masturbated each other to orgasm in a theme park sky ride and a couple other times, he avoided public displays of affection. He had also mentioned that his family was very traditional when it came to dating. He kept our relationship on the down low with his parents, as I did with mine, but he did tell Shreya, his college-aged sister. 

As soon as we graduated high school, Sanjay invited me to a recital featuring Shreya and him and a few others performing traditional dances from India. His family was using the occasion as a reunion, and I could come to the informal gathering beforehand and the reception afterwards. Our friend Julie was also invited.

I arrived wearing a conservative dark dress and formal leather shoes. I also wore a bra, something I avoided unless I thought it was especially appropriate. Julie came with similar clothes. Even she wore a bra, which was even more uncharacteristic. The house was packed with his relatives of all sorts. The older women were in the kitchen preparing a feast, the men out of sight in the backyard, the boys roaming around mostly in Sanjay’s room, and a large pack of teenage girls in the living room watching a Bollywood drama. They were wearing mostly sweatpants and t-shirts. 

Framed illustrations on the walls showed various divine figures, with some in passionate embrace. Many of the female figures were almost nude and had wasp-shaped hips and large rounded breasts. I was fascinated, especially since my family upbringing had been so removed from any suggestion of sexuality. 

Sanjay came out and introduced me to the girls first and then the women. I felt out of place: not understanding the language, culture, and being overdressed. When I entered the kitchen, I asked if I could help. Cooking is something I am comfortable doing, and I have skills. I was given pot stirring and onion cutting duties. Clearly the older women were talking about me in their language, and they looked me over up and down a few times. His aunt finally said, “Are you Sanjay’s girlfriend?” I paused knowing that the next words were vital to continuing our fairly intimate relationship. “Sanjay is a man of great character and sharp intelligence. He treats everyone with respect and is very handsome. I admire him greatly. Anyone he chooses to become his girlfriend is very lucky indeed.” They all knew I evaded the question but seemed impressed by my answer.

Shreya came over to tell me that all the girls were changing clothes for the dance, and I was invited. I finished the last onion, washed my hands, politely excused myself, and dashed into a large private room in the back. Shreya said that they had enough traditional Indian outfits for Julie and me. All of the teenage girls started striping off their clothes down to their panties. Julie and I followed, being especially excited to remove our bras. Once we were almost naked, the chatter was loud and from everyone. We complemented each other’s bodies, breasts, butts. Girls touched each other with familiarity by giving a quick shoulder massage, nudge with an elbow, or pat on the rear. I grew up as an only child without any other family nearby. In the fun that we were having, I felt like I had missed out by not being part of a large loving family that were so comfortable with their naked bodies. I loved being among these beautiful girls with our mostly smaller breasts in all different skin shades. One of the older girls had sandalwood scented oil and rubbed it on the back of our shoulders, our bellies, and just above our breasts. 

Shreya, being the oldest, brought out the brightly colored long pieces of fabric that once wrapped around our bodies would be our formal garments. She had an idea of who should wear which. When it came to me, she picked out a particularly colorful and elegant one, whispering in my ear that Sanjay would especially like this one. After I put on a crop top like blouse and a loose petticoat, four sets of hands touched all around my body as they wrapped and tucked the gorgeous fabric into place for a proper fit. The clothing allowed for free movement, and I felt like royalty. We practiced some Bollywood dance moves with plenty of hand gestures and knee bends. I felt like I belonged. 

At the rented community hall where the recital was held, I sat in the front row. Shreya’s solo dance was exquisite. Her body flowed with gentle movements as every joint of her body twisted in what I thought was highly charged sensuality. She smiled throughout with a coyness that seemed to barely hide desire. I thought of how beautiful a young woman’s body is and how primed it is for sex. Even after she finished, I kept looking at her body in movement. 

Sanjay performed with two other young men. All were wearing silver vests and loose trousers. Their dance was masculine and had skilled and rapid movements. Sanjay stared right at me. If the goal of the dance was to display his strength and virility, it succeeded. His dancing seduced me. I thought about how it would feel to wrap my legs around him as we vigorously made love. I squeezed my thighs together imagining sex with him. 

After the recital came the feast. The dishes were magnificent. Each was a sophisticated explosion of flavor. The textures, the spices, the sheer abundance and variety blew my mind. I asked lots of questions of the older ladies who I had met in the kitchen. 

Music came on, and now almost everyone danced. Boys and men together and women and girls together. Julie and I were having a great time learning and copying the movements of Shreya and the other girls. I felt light and sexy. Sanjay glanced at me across the room. When he did, I tried out a particularly flirtatious movement to let him know that I desired him. 

As Julie and I left, profusely thanking our hosts, Shreya let me know that I made a good impression. Her mother said that my kitchen help and culinary questions were a good sign. She was also impressed by my respectful manner and my reputation as a smart student. All the women thought I was pretty. Shreya quoted her mother saying that anyone Lindsey chooses to become her boyfriend is very lucky indeed. Shreya then offered me my elegant Indian dress as a gift from their family. 

When I got home, I went to my bedroom and cleared the floor. Slowly I started dancing with the moves I learned that day. As I twisted my hands around, I took one finger to slide up sensitive parts of my body: behind my ear, the inside of my forearm, my lips. I moved my legs, flexing and releasing the muscles of my upper thighs. More dancing.

With a few quick maneuvers, I unpinned and untucked the cloth of my garment, released my petticoat, and peeled off my little blouse. I danced more as the elegant clothing dropped to the floor. More sensitive places for my finger to go: above my breasts, the side of my torso, just below my butt. More dancing.

With fingers on each side, I pulled down my panties, and in the last act of my solo striptease, used my toes to dramatically fling my underwear across the room. Now naked, I danced more slowly. More sensitive places: my fingers circled my nipples, ran up the sides of my inner thighs, and touched down from my bellybutton to the inside of my hip bone. More dancing.

My thighs were burning from the exercise, and I was getting out of breath. I fell back in my bed. I clutched both breasts and squeezed then twisted my nipples between my fingers. Getting up on my knees, I pretended to straddle Sanjay, putting two fingers in my vagina to simulate his penis inside me. Up, down. Up, down. Three fingers. Up, down. Up, down. I whispered, “Cum inside me, Sanjay.” I imagined his penis pulsing with semen, and I climaxed with him in my masturbation fantasy. In my afterglow I wrapped myself again in the beautiful fabric of my gifted clothing. 

Sanjay and I barely talked that day and didn’t even touch once. However, I realized at that moment that I was ready to have sex, and I wanted it to be with him.