Fire dancer foules really hard | Erotic sex stories

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When I turned down to put my tambourin aside, I slowly pushed my red pearly fringed skirt aside to better massage my tense calves. Mine Legs Had done really good work tonight, and like every time I went out completely in the music and the audience dipped into the music, it was like a intoxication to dance like a intoxication while the individual towels of my red gypsy rock were swirling around me.

The guests had been in a good mood and had left more gold pieces than usual. I was curious next to an older woman who had spread her beautiful towels on a bench and delighted me with the silk and the coins and sequins that were embroidered on it. I was just holding one of the towels embroidered with golden sequins while I was looking at Rakhal and Santhala, both of whom were part of our wandering gypsy family, who romped around between the desert cities and earned their bread with background, dance and acrobatic tricks.

Then I noticed a beautifully crafted bangle next to the towels.

There were two women whose bodies united in a snake tail and whose hands were intertwined above their heads. I was so fascinated by this bangle that I bought him with the old woman with the entire income of this evening. “You made a good choice. “Her eyes were suddenly deep and mysterious like two lakes.

“It is said that magical powers live in him …” Suddenly, like one of the guests, I got a stranger wrapped in a black caftan who had kept in the background all the time.

“We saw you and your friends tonight and would like to ask you to be our guest tonight at the festival that my Mr. Shamarrn gives tonight. “The impact -filled bag with gold pieces did not allow us to object.

A short time later, Rakhal, Santhala and I sat on the camels and let the mysterious stranger be guided out into the desert in the torchy light. When the carpets that hung in front of the tent entrance were thrown back, I felt like in a fairy tale from 1001 night. A pleasant exotic, slightly aphrodizing fragrance was in the air.

On a large, red silk cushion, an incredibly good -looking man was sitting with overturned legs, whose penetrating look almost hypnotized at the right.

He was wrapped in a black, silver -embroidered caftan, under which his tanned muscular body was still easy to see. His right hand held a Nargileh, the oriental hookah from which he occasionally took a deep train. Three veiled women were stored on velvet red pillows around him and let their delicate hands slide over his legs..After the traditional greetings were spoken, we were asked to take a seat. The pleasant voice of the Bedouin prince hunted goose bumps over my back..

The preparations for a ritual mutton slaughter have already been made, while a campfire was piled up outside.

Rakhal and Santhala had heard of a temple city here nearby, of which only abandoned ruins should be left today. We tried to address our hosts by explaining our intention to explore these ruins a little closer the next day, but he, who had been so talkative and friendly so far, suddenly became very reserved towards us. In his eyes I almost thought I was a mix of suppressed fear but also to see awe.

At a later hour we sat around the campfire and let the tasty meal to. It was a starry, pleasant warm night, but I still didn’t get rid of the feeling of something threatening in this place.

I tried to shake these thoughts from me due to the courteous behavior of all people in this village. At midnight, our host also announced something special. One of his slaves, who, kidnapping from another trunk, has lived with them for many years, a beauty named Sha-Milah should dance for us.

When I was the first time I saw, I was blinded by her beauty. She appeared to me like a being from a different time.

Her dark, chocolate brown skin shimmered like the purest silk. Her long, black hair was woven from long pearl chains and a delicate red silk veil covered her face. Siehlang’s skirt was embroidered with countless sequins and pearls and did not hide anything from her long slim legs. She was wearing a short gold-red, embroidered upper part that nestled closely for her lavish breasts.

She had an almost scary demonic erotic charism.

The relentless hatred that sprayed out of her eyes when she looked towards our host took me even more than everything else. Then the musicians slowly began to move her arms and hips in the same way to move her arms and hips in the same time in time of the same way with a melody on the Nei, an oriental flute.

Her dance became more and more ecstatic than finally accompanied the tablas with their wild rhythms. Their hips tremble erotic And the red strips of her long skirt danced like wild flames around her as she danced around the fire. When I looked at her dance, I had the feeling for a short moment that she danced in the fire ..

I almost thought I was watching an archaic dance that moved a little deep inside me because it was something like the vitality and fertility.

I noticed that she had captivated all of her viewers, the one of her how tied up were. When our eyes met, I believed that two souls had found themselves without words. At the same time, I also noticed the strange look she was aiming at the bracelet that I bought this evening from the old dealer. As beautiful as this moment was, it was over again.

After her dance she was veiled again by the other women and led into a remote tent, so that I did not see her again during the festival.

Suddenly I noticed how someone plucked my dress and I saw a figure that showed me through gestures. It was one of the women that I had seen in the evening in the vicinity of the Bedouin prince. She led me into a tent and her eyes accepted an anxious expression, as the following words in a chopped desert dialect, which was spoken by all desert peoples, out of her out of it: “Do not go to the temple city …

In the past, a people lived there who asked the goddess – dancing with her swords – it is not in this village – it has been cursed since the black devilin..“At that moment the curtain was torn back and he was standing in front of me. He brutally pulled the woman back and a flood angry for me was incomprehensible to me out of his mouth.

With a hand movement he had torn her cloak in the middle, so that her upper body was naked.

In his right hand he suddenly held a three -tailed one whip, which he had mercilessly driven on her back. I noticed that pleasure screams mingled under her screams of pain and felt a wild excitement climbing into me when I saw how he spanned her tight butt with both hands and poured his stiff erected limb into her from behind. His lust was quickly breastfed when his hot seed sprayed on her back.

At the same time I felt hatred and desire to rise in me when he approached me, his hands tore up my dress, so that my breast was naked in front of him and mine Nipple Required. He massaged and squeezed my breasts until I groaned with pain and desire, his hot demanding lips sucked on my nipples and his teeth bit slightly until the excitement threatened to overwhelm me.

His hands clawed into my buttocks when he gave me up to him, then threw me on the floor and his tail, who was already hot in front of him again, pushed deep inside me as he gasped and after a short time I felt he was injecting his seeds into me.

When he dropped away from me and finally left the tent without a word being changed between us, I only felt hatred and sneaked into the tent that was assigned to us to sleep. I couldn’t sleep that night, the events had chilled me so much, I always had to think of Sha-Milah. I felt that something connected me with her and that I had to and could help her in some way.

After Rakhal and Santhala had fallen asleep, I had an indefinite feeling of going out of the tent. Nobody could be seen in front of the tents, only the moon stood like a beacon over the village and immersed everything in a dim light.

Almost without being aware of it, I approached the tent in which Seilamah had disappeared after her dance. So I was not surprised when a figure came out of the tent – almost as if it had been waiting for me.

She was closely wrapped in a black cloak and took me without a word. When she slowly pushed her arm out of her cloak, I saw that she was wearing the same bracelet as I did. She whispered a word, it was the only one I had ever heard of speaking … “Shamra” – “Sister”.

In the moonlight we went east towards the sand dunes. The cave was immersed in a ghostly red light, twitching shadows danced over the walls, which were generated by a fire burning in the middle of the cave.

I slowly sat in front of the fire and stared into the flames. I noticed how gentle hands cut down on my arms and breathed in the light sandal wood scent that went out of her while I felt her hot breath on my neck. Slowly she grazed my light silk dress and then I closed my eyes with excitement and gave myself the enjoyment of her warm damp clues, which glanked on my spine, while the heat of the flames let small welding beads run over my skin.

Light shudder groaned me up when her fingernails colored with deep red hena sled over the inside of my thighs and I reared up when her tongue played my little buds and then slid down to my venus hill.

Hot Wönneschauder flowed through me when her little clever tongue explored my wet cave. From somewhere from the cave, quiet drum beats. Suddenly Seilamah was no longer in front of me, but in her place there was a snake around my thighs.

I was not afraid, but enjoyed it how the cool flaky skin on my rubbery and slowly meandering slowly. It was almost like a tender stroking and I groaned lustfully as her tongue played around my belly button.

Her cool skin slid up on my labia and I noticed how my rose core pulsate and became hard. I rubbed my thighs together, which were already very damp and meandered and turned like the snake on the hard bottom of the cave, while my pleasure shouted from the walls.

It was me as if not only my sexual energy, but my entire vitality would merge with the snake. When I reared up in orgasm and look into the flames, I see something unbelievable: a completely naked figure that resembles Seilamah, but looks like a goddess, stands in the flames and holds a double -edged sword in my hand. While the flames like snake tongues on your body lick, She dances an ancient archaic dance in the fire.

She puts the sword on the floor in front of her, describes a circle with her hands as if she wants to worship the sun, and puts it together in full concentration in front of her heart.

With mild movements slight snake -like movements, it can be slid down onto the earth. She stretches out her hands to fake power from the goddess of fire. The force she now feels in her hands lets her flow into the sword by conjured up circular movements above the sword blade.

Then she takes up the sword that the goddess of fire is now consecrated and is slowly writing a holy sign in the air. Slowly she leans back and lets the dangerous blade balance on her stomach.

With a quick circular movement of her upper body, she straightens up, holds the sword high above her head and only slowly, then faster, turns into the fire in the rhythm of music, while she lets the blade circle like in the fight for her body.

I too are suddenly in the fire and feel the hot blade roaming over my skin, which has touched the cool skin of the snake seconds earlier. I feel how the fire races through my blood and put myself into an ecstatic intoxication when I start to dance with her in the fire. Our lips and hands touch and our welding breeds are winding around each other at the same time. I feel pleasure and pain as if I dance on glowing swords and as if twitching snake bodies penetrate into me.

Just when I can no longer say whether the lust or pain is stronger in me, the world around me explodes in a kaleidoscope of a thousand colors.

Minutes – or hours? – Later I open my eyes and in front of me I only see a charred fire. Slowly I straighten up and then go to the cave entrance fluctuating. Outside, the sun is just having its first rays spread over the sand dunes when I make myself on the way back into the village.

From a distance I see that something is wrong. Dark clouds of smoke cover the sky.

A small camel caravan approaches me. On closer inspection, I discover that Esrakhal, Santhala and some residents of the village are. “Suddenly a fire broke out in the village,” they call me from afar. I do not let myself be dissuaded and go to the village without respecting them.

Only charred residues hang down from the middle tent from the bars – but not everything is burned: it is in the middle of the ruins – and a large, scaly snake has been wrapped around his neck as in a hug.

A large double -edged sword lies in front of him and an old holy sign was written in the sand with him. Slowly I approach them and raise the sword that I have always been wearing with me since then to remember this day.

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