Damn thing Blew Up!

My modem died, so I won’t be blogging as often. (Yeah, I say that like I blog a lot. Ha, ha. It’s only by the grace of Mike that I’m even still part of this team; I’m so bad at keeping up on things.)

I would like to point something out right now: Yes, the club I was at played Gwen Stefani. No, I do not like club music.

I just had to get that off my chest. My flat, nearly concave chest that I have now because I don’t work out anymore. Sigh.

Speaking of working out, holy hell! I have a new love. One of my lady friends came over last night to use my VCR, since hers shit a brick. (Not literally—it’s more like it ATE a brick. She chucked a block of cheese at it and knocked it off the entertainment centre—don’t ask.)

ANYWAYS, she came over to use my VCR to try out this new workout video she got. My first thought was, “Oh, great. A sweaty women in Spandex jumping and panting all over my living room, getting everything sweaty, to the background sound of some motivational Richard Simmons saying, ‘You can doooo it allll niiiiight looong!’ “
Oh, how I love being mistaken. So she pops the tape in, turns and looks at me, and says, “You’re not just going to sit there and watch me, are you?”
I laugh and say, “Hell yes I am.”
“If you want to watch me, you have to at least try it with me.”
I laugh her off and say, “Maybe later.”
So I watch attentively as she stretches on my floor. God, that girl is flexible. Kate (that’s her name, by the way) can do the splits on my floor and lean all the way back ‘til her head touches the carpet. It’s insane.
She starts the tape and waits through the whole “Welcome to blah blah my name is blah blah this video is an introduction to bellydancing.”
Wait—BELLYDANCING? I look at Kate, who is in pyjama bottoms and a tank top. “You aren’t in bellydancing attire,” I say. “Besides, didn’t you have a workout video to try out?”
“Bellydancing is a workout. Besides, it’s to hiphop music. What’s the proper dress for hiphop bellydancing?”
“You’re supposed to wear the whole golden brassiere thing!” I insisted, and to my absolute and total surprise and delight, she stripped off her top, revealing her black and green bra.
“Is this close enough?” she says. I nod, while absolutely drinking in the sight. I’ve never thought of Kate as my type (my type is tall, blonde, slender, etc—every guy’s type!). She’s short, has a good set of hips on her, with pretty thick legs and waist, and a smallish chest—don’t get me wrong, she’s not fat. She’s just curves.
So I hadn’t really given her a second glance until she stood in my living room with just a bra and pyjamas. She isn’t the type to really go for tight shirts, so I figured she had a chub tummy—hell no. It’s smooth, with just a bit of a pooch at the bottom—mm.
ANYWHOO, while I’m paying attention to her ass, she’s trying to follow along with the video. I was pretty surprised at how quickly she picked it up—it’d’ve taken me time to even figure out the first move, the “hip drop”.
I watched her step side-to-side, swinging her hips in smooth circles, and do this funny move called the “chest something-or-other,” during which she thrust her chest up and relaxed. Nice bouncing.
It slowly got more and more complicated until she was basically doing this nice bellydance routine in my living room. Man, I think she just totally changed my taste in women—I was comparing her (large hips and ass, nice stomach and waist, small chest) to the chicks on the video (small hips, no ass, very skinny waist and stomach, huge tits) and I was like, “Dude! She’s hotter than they are!”
She wasn’t quite as hot when she fell over, though, which she did numerous times.
But then came the HIGH POINT OF MY DAY:
(Okay, pay attention now)
She wasn’t certain she was moving her hips in a complete circle through a specific move, so she (here it comes) TOLD ME TO STAND AGAINST HER AND GUIDE HER WITH MY HANDS.
I wasn’t sure that she was doing it because I was a friend and she could be comfortable with me, or if I was a sex prospect and she wanted to do my brains out.
So I come up to her and she says, “Okay, put your chin on my collarbone so you can watch my hips from the front, and push your crotch against my ass and move me how I’m supposed to.”
Gee, I really don’t think I can do that! I tried not to get hard, but…I mean…hot chick! Humping! Hello, Mr. Hardon!
I think she felt it, ‘cause she took a quick step away. Oh, shit, I think.
Then she turns around. “I still don’t think I’m doing it right,” she says, and grabs my hips and pulls them to hers. We were facing each other this time, and she swung her hips, sliding herself over my now rather erect self. She grins (God, it was a wicked, absolutely hot grin) and says, “I told you that in order for you to watch me you’d have to do a bit of a workout, too.”
“Uh-huh,” I breathed, trying not to moan as she continues grinding against me.
So long story short, I got a workout. It was incredible. Too bad she has a boyfriend