La Mexicana: ONS With A Sexy Latina

Last weekend, I went out Latin dancing, and brought a sexy young woman home for the night, within in hours of meeting her.

This is the story of how that went down, released in a few parts.

Bachata

I’ve been taking dance lessons for the last few months, in the sensual Latin style called bachata.

Bachata is a rhythmic, syncopated music of strumming guitar and heartbreaking love stories, sung in Spanish.

The dance originated in bars and brothels on the tropical island of the Dominican Republic; its sultry origins show in the seductive, sexual movements.

I had no idea before I started taking lessons, but there is a thriving dance scene in my mid-sized city, with multiple parties and events almost every weekend.

It’s interesting how entire flourishing subcultures can exist, right under your nose.

I feel the same surprise when I discover a Youtube channel I’ve never heard of… that has 1 million+ subscribers.

The universe, and on a small scale, a city, or even a neighborhood, is vast, beyond comprehension.

Life is complex.

It’s amazing how much of it you can miss, if you’re not paying attention.

“…Do You Remember Me?”

About 10pm, I got dressed in black skinny jeans, and a brightly colored button down that I bought especially for nights out.

After a lifetime of being scrawny, I’ve been serious about lifting consistently, and consuming enough calories and protein to grow.

My hard work was starting to pay off. The few months of training had resulted in my body growing broad and strong.

Finally looking less like a No. 2 pencil, and more like an athletic grown man, I pumped a spritz of cologne on my chest, and jumped in my car to head to the party.

Once there, I paid at the door and walked into the dark club.

Multi-colored lights flashed to the melodic guitar and syncopated rhythms. Couples swayed and spun on the dance floor.

I scanned the crowd for my buddy who was meeting me there.

As I stepped through the crowd surrounding the dance floor, a pretty, young Latina approached me, smiling:

“Hey! …Do you remember me? We danced together last weekend!”.

Her gray eyes sparkled.

“…Uhh…”

I stammered.

She startled me.

First, the woman standing before me was beautiful.

She was Latina, her light complexion the color of toasted almonds. At 5’8, and wearing heels, she was tall, for a girl, and statuesque.

Her eyes were dark gray, with long, full eyelashes.

She wore her wavy, sandy brown hair was pulled up in a messy pineapple on top of her head.

Secondly, her friendliness took me aback.

It’s not every day that an attractive young woman opens ME.

Also,… I totally didn’t remember her.

There was no way I was going to ruin the moment by admitting that.

Instead, I matched her warm smile with my own.

“Of course, I remember you”.

I reached out my hand to take hold of hers. She felt soft and warm.

“Do you want to dance?”, I asked.

Her eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically.

With her hand in mine, I led her to the dance floor.

We faced each other, my hands cradling hers.

In the low light of the club, I looked into her eyes as we started to sway.

The song began, and I led her in the sultry and passionate dance.

As jilted Latin lover sang of heartbreak, I twirled my girl around, spun her out, then pulled her in close in time with the music.

Although, I hadn’t remembered her face at first, once our bodies were moving together, I DID remember dancing with her.

The way her hips swiveled with mine, the way she giggled when I spun her around, and smell of her perfume were stored away in some part of my subconscious.

Once I was running my hands over her curvaceous silhouette, the memory of our first time dancing came rushing back.

“You’re such a good dancer!”, she breathed.

I had been taking a weekly group class for months, in addition to a private lesson on weekends.

I winked at my dance partner and smiled to myself.

Hard work pays off.

Our bodies moved together effortlessly to the rhythm.

As the song ended, I reached up to tuck her soft, wavy, brown hair behind her ear, and leaned in. My other hand still held hers.

I took a deep breathe and forced my tone down to low rumble, channeling my inner Barry White.

She was turning me on, and I wanted her to hear it in my voice:“What’s your name”.

It was a command, not a request.

She was very feminine; I knew the polarity of a confident, masculine frame would make her melt.

My sexy dance partner leaned into my ear, letting her full, round breasts rest against my chest as she got closer.

Her breath was soft and light.

As her words tickled my ear, and I felt a rush of heat wash over me. I could my dick start to swell; she was close enough to feel it too.

She spoke slowly, her light Spanish accent sounded like poetry.

“My name is Elena…”