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What a dream! I and a handful of my female friends, dressed like naughty schoolgirls-in bright white blouses and scandalously short skirts, our hair done up in pigtails-we danced in a circle around a handsome man. We giggled and laughed like little girls and touched ourselves and each other.
The man wore only his birthday suit and he enjoyed our bouncing breasts and the occasional flash of panties or shaved pussy lips or bare buttocks. His cock had completely hardened when we began to sing: "Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down." As we continued to dance, each woman took a turn dancing into the center of the circle to tease the man. She might pout her lips and fondle herself, or lift up her skirt and shimmy her hips or shake her ass. We all stripped as we danced, unbuttoning and discarding our blouses and skirts. He found our performance so engrossing that he didn't notice the light catching on our metal implements. Some of us wore daggers on our supple thighs. Others wore scissors hanging from our necks, dangling between our breasts. We continued to sing to the same melody, but the lyrics changed. Our sexy display must have so enchanted him that he didn't notice until it was too late. I could see a pearl of precum glistening on the pisshole of his handsome cock. I danced into the center of the circle and ran my finger along the shaft, gathering the clear drop on my finger. He shivered as I touched the bead to my tongue and savored the alkaline saltiness. The lyrics rang in my ears as I cuddled his scrotum in my palm: "Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies . . ." His erection held his dick out the way. I gazed into his eyes and witnessed his expression change from bliss to terror as awareness struck him simultaneously with my scissors: "Snip one, snip two, no more nuts for you-hoo." The song rang sweet and true.
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