How to freak dancing

How To Freak Dance - Freak Dancing Tips

Freak dance hits off well in a night club or a pub. Also known as grinding, juking, housing, bubbling and crunking, freak dance includes two or more dancers rubbing together in a suggestive sexual manner. In simple terms, freak dance means sexually arousing dance. Popular for several years, this risqué style of dancing was banned by many schools. However, it is gaining popularity once again largely due to trendy hip hop music videos. Though freak dance does not involve actual sexual intercourse, it represents dry humping, that is, partners and groups performing sexual acts and positions. Over the years, freak dancing has branched into different variations, such as winking or wining up, Perrero, dirty dancing, and bump and grind. Take a sneak peak into the following lines if you are game to know how to freak dance. Get your freak on and start grinding!


Freak Dancing Tips



  • Always face the same direction as that of your dancing partner. The position should be such that one dancer’s butt is in contact with the other’s groin, or in sexual terms - doggie style.
  • While dancing facing each other, both the partners straddle in each other’s laps. This step usually includes rubbing your private parts on the other’s thighs through your clothes.
  • In freak dance, the girl supports her weight on the floor with the help of her hands.
  • The male partner stands behind the female holding her legs or feet up.
  • The dance can start off with the girl leading using her hips giving way for the guy to follow. The central part of this dance is that the guy moves along the girl and not vice versa.

Different Freak Dancing Forms

  • The first technique in freak dancing is the “Wave”. It symbolizes both the partners synchronizing their grinding movements as per the beats of the music being played in the background.
  • “Side-to-Side” is a style of freak dancing where both the dance partners stand beside one another. The hips are rotated both clockwise and anti-clockwise in accordance to the beats of the music.
  • “Sandwich” is another dancing technique which involves two or more members of the same sex surrounding another person of the opposite sex. In such a scenario, the dancers press an individual from all directions to the tunes of the music representing “group sex” or orgy type of action.
  • Another extreme move in freak dancing is the “Vibration Gyration”. This technique is performed by making rapid movements in the entire body or rear end to the beats of the music.
  • The female dancer moves her hips in a circular motion to form the figure ‘8’ pattern. This is known as “Rotational”.
  • Apart from these stated techniques, there exists a form called “freak train”, “bumping line”, “booty line” or “pelvis conga”. The dance form involves a group of dancers (either same sex or mixed) who grind themselves together standing in a single line to the beats of the music.

How to Cite

Freaked About Freak Dancing | Seattle Met

THE KE$HA SONG in the darkened school gym throbbed loud as a warning siren, and I, middle school dance chaperone, was trolling the periphery. “Be on the lookout for roving hands,” the DJ had emailed the chaperones. Ah youth, I sighed, remembering.

“Also keep an eye out for kids grinding; that is something that happens a lot,” his note continued.

Okay. That I didn’t remember.

Grinding: where the female dancer waggles her butt up against her male partner’s privates. No point being coy about it; the practice also called freak dancing has been making news reports and the parental gossip circuit for several years now, nationally and locally. It thrives against a throbbing hip-hop soundtrack. Not a school is immune.

I’ve certainly heard plenty about the attempted fixes. Nathan Hale adopted a 45-degree-angle rule, stating that no body may become more, uh, acute than that—and no hands may be on the floor. Garfield imposed a wristband policy, in which freakers get their wristbands snipped on the first infraction; their booties booted on the second. At Seattle Academy of Arts and Sciences, kids sign self-governance contracts that include no-freaking language. And Bush School finally got so fed up with lewd moves it substituted the best fix it could think of: a swing dance. (Not a record turnout, that event.)

I’d just never actually seen kids in the act—and was fervently hoping not to tonight, at a mixer where the dancers, from a handful of Seattle middle schools, were barely into their teens. As I patrolled the scene, however, I relaxed. Girls bobbed with girls. Boys hung awkwardly in clumps, hands jammed in their pockets. Boys and girls paired up sporadically when the music got romantic, to slow dance like robots. Maybe I wouldn’t need my protractor after all.

That’s when I saw them. A sweet couple at the edge of a close circle of spectators, she with her back to the guy, were pushing their hips around impressively, not a mote of daylight between them. My first thought? Honestly? Gaaah! Get a room!

Instinctively I averted my eyes and made to move away when I thought: They’re children. Stopping this was my job. But they’re not lying on the floor! I rationalized. (“Upright and vertical,” has become one local high school’s standard for acceptable dancing.) He’s not violating her! (Alas, actual penetration—uh, somewhere between what goes down in a gynecologist’s office and an airport security checkpoint—has reportedly occurred during dances in at least two local schools.) He didn’t even leave to put on a condom! (A fabled preemptive measure by young men who fear they won’t be able to…contain themselves.)

Truth is—I was embarrassed.
The boy wasn’t embarrassed, having quite obviously gone to his happy place. Neither, I marveled, was the girl. Yet here she was, allowing herself to be exploited. In public! I mean, the guy’s titillation notwithstanding—what was in it for her?

An apple-cheeked high-school freaker of my acquaintance—an otherwise bookish young woman who wore her status as the freak queen of her high school proudly as a letterman’s jacket—had once told me: “If you think I’m being exploited, you’re just looking from the wrong direction. ” She said it with a proud smile. “From the guy’s perspective, you see my back. But flip it around…everyone who’s watching sees my front! They can see that I’ve got what he wants. They can see that I’m in control.”

Indeed, if the couple before me was any indication, an audience was the essential element of freaking’s appeal. The two of them smiled and mugged, playing to their crowd. One school administrator told me she frankly didn’t know how often grinding happened at her school dances; she could never see through the crush of kid spectators to find out. “Unless you’re walking right through the middle of the circle, you can’t see what’s happening,” she sighed. “It’s worrisome.”

Maybe freaking is no different from the sexual boundary pushing every generation inflicts on its elders—boundary pushing these kids’ parents and grandparents used, don’t forget, to kick off a full-scale culture war—only brought to us now by Generation YouTube. What we furtively snuck out to do in the backseats of cars they’re doing right out in front of God, man, and friends with Flip cams. It’s the same combustible cocktail of rebellion and grasping for independence that has always characterized adolescence—only now acted out in increasingly public ways, in an increasingly public public sphere, by young women who are freshly sexually empowered and young men who can’t believe their good luck.

With trepidation I approached the enlarging circle. “Uh, hey,” I scream-­whispered over the music, tapping Mr. Lucky on the shoulder—hoping he couldn’t tell I had no idea what I was doing. (Fleetingly I considered doing the hustle, a couple of seasoned high school teachers having assured me that nothing spells cold shower for a horny teen quite like the sight of his math teacher in a conga line.)

No, I knew that limits were needed, the kind of clear, direct, uncompromising limits that my generation (or, at least, this chaperone) felt uncomfortable—maybe even hypocritical—expecting of the next generation. Would it even be too extreme to suggest that freaking proves today’s kids are begging for boundaries? Uh…well, probably. But there’s no question that when kids choose to bring their raging hormones out of the backseat and onto the dance floor…it gives parents a rare and significant gift: the chance to comment.

“That’s too close,” I declared into Mr. Lucky’s ear, then again into Ms. Empowered’s. Even as they burst out laughing I knew I’d done the right thing—and not just because they proceeded to unglue their body parts. At that moment I wish I could’ve shouted over the music exactly why it was right: They were too young. This was too public. Sex was too rich and intimate and confounding and powerful to learn first as a floor show.

As I walked away I could still hear laughter. Who knows if my admonition did a thing for them. I just know it did something for me.

Back Fence

About Russian salce-2, or why freaks are so freaks.: salsateca — LiveJournal

I already wrote an article with a similar title several years ago. It seems that it's time to publish a sequel - firstly, it was written a long time ago, and secondly, so as not to write the same thing a hundred times to each of the opponents of the post about the bridge.
Well, at the same time I won't be greedy, I'll hang it not in my livejournal, but on neutral territory, so that everyone is comfortable.

Let's start by playing associations. I tell you a word, and you answer me what you see when you hear it.

I see a camomile. Large, meadow chamomile. Because my "flower" is "just a flower", that is, something simple, uncomplicated. Here is a rose or an orchid - of course, also a flower, but they need something to clarify their originality and majesty. Such is the perception of the word "flower".
And someone else must have seen a rose or an orchid. Or a lilac bush. Or a meadow of dandelions. Or a crooked something with four blue petals drawn by a child's hand. Or another, your flower.

Let's go further:
I see a magazine spread with a photo of a varnished dark brown foreign car against the backdrop of a sunset in some endless steppe. I don’t know what kind of car, I distinguish foreign cars by the inscription on the back, but this one is sideways. Somewhere I saw such an advertisement, for some reason I remembered it and even stuck to the visualization of the word.
Someone saw another car.
IT people who call a computer a "machine" saw the system unit.
Representatives of other professions or parties, where some other object is called "machine", saw it.

And, what's funny, when I hear the word "wheelbarrow" I still see a garden wheelbarrow with one wheel, blue. Not a car.
And now further:

It's clear that the readers of the salsateca community saw the dance floor of their favorite club or a memorable dance couple together. But try to ask what people who are far from the salsa party see?
You know, I can bet anyone that ninety percent of them see the stage. Or the floor of the ballroom dancing championship.
Because in the perception of most of our people "dance" = "perform".

In our country, the culture of social pair dance has long disappeared. When exactly this happened, I find it difficult to determine. After all, even after the war they still danced - remember, in the movie "Carnival Night" on New Year's Eve everyone dances a waltz? And this is 1956.
In general, I don't know when, but it happened. People have ceased to perceive dancing in pairs as a form of leisure. Only dance as a kind of stage art and dance as a sport remained. And several generations grew up on this, and it entered into consciousness and mentality that dance is when you go out in front of someone to perform.

Therefore, when a person hears for the first time that there are also social dances, this is when no one really looks at you and his partner and you, he, of course, nods his head. And he thinks he understands. And he is very happy, because he thought that it was not given to him to dance, since his parents did not give it away at the age of five, but, it turns out, you can start now. And you can have no data, you can be somehow incapable, the main thing is the pleasure of yourself and your partner!
And he runs to study, but from the very first step he starts trying. .. right. Protrude. Try to look like a professional artist, use stage baubles and completely ignore what is happening inside the couple.
Because you can't get the mentality out of your head so easily. At the same time, some honestly and consciously score on what they heard "we dance for ourselves and our partner" and begin to look for where they would be taught to show off more beautifully. The other part of the people zealously thinks that they are dancing for themselves and performing without noticing it.
The third part declares a real war on performance in all its manifestations. But after equating the concept of "perform" with "beautiful dancing" and any accusation of clumsy and bad quality of their dancing begins to blissfully "salsa is a social dance, we dance for ourselves and our pleasure, go away, snob!".
But things are different. When you dance well, it is more pleasant for yourself and for your partner/partner. And it brings a lot more pleasure, in fact.
I don't know how I managed to explain the difference between natural beauty and the desire for unnecessary embellishment. I hope you understand?

Part of the root of the problem is teaching.
There are very few salsa teachers who understand the essence of the issue and are able to convey it.
Cubans understand the essence. But. They are people who are very sensitive to the conjuncture, moreover, most of the Cuban teachers are stage professionals. And the Cuban who came here either immediately understands what needs to be done here in order to knock down the dough, and begins to teach how to perform. Or even tries for some time to explain the meaning of the ongoing action, but suffers a complete collapse. The students who came to be quickly taught how to dance as beautifully as real Cubans, and not to strain and try to drive into what this guy is trying to explain in bad Russian, scatter like cockroaches. The type understands that salsa is good, but those who teach it right have a lot of money, popularity, tours and a shiny new car every year. Not blue with one wheel, but quite a four, with climate control in the cabin and a sunroof on the ceiling. And he's sitting there like a fool with his true salsa spirit - fuck those pancakes.

Russian teachers, on the other hand, very, very often, have not outlived their desire to perform. Yes, not all. There are very good teachers, really imbued with the topic. It's good that there is. If there were more of them, you see, and there would be fewer freaks...

Part two. About freaks.

There is this anecdote:
A man is standing on the side of the road hailing a taxi. The whole heaped up, almost gilded, Mercedes flies past. The driver sees a man raising his hand. He stops, backs up - an angry new Russian jumps out, grabs this man by the chest and starts shaking him, shouting: "Where, bitch, did you see checkers?"

Yeah, not a funny joke. But vital. Because he had checkers. Yes, not on the side of the car. No longer on the side of the car. Once they were exactly there, and there was poverty, and hard, hateful work. There were dreams to change everything someday. And dreams came true - he got rich, he can afford anything, and with pleasure he allows himself everything.
But the checkers remained. Hidden deep in the soul. And - the fear that someone from there will notice them, and confuse a gilded Mercedes with a broken-down taxi in the dark.

Now imagine a person. Man. With low self-esteem. With the perception of myself "I'm a freak."
At the same time, most often he is really ugly. But it also happens that a guy of quite ordinary appearance considers himself a freak - less often, but it happens. And this guy looks in the mirror in the morning, self-esteem to him: “Fffuuuuu, well, you are uroooood”, and pride in response: “No, well, why? Well, yes, not alendelon, of course, what, but quite a guy like a guy"

A guy goes out into the street and sees a beautiful girl. That would be, I think, to get to know her. But if I come, she will send me, I'm such a freak. Well, what if he doesn’t send it, I’m not alendelon, but is a guy like a guy? Oh, it was, it wasn't. Suitable, and looking at the ground, mumbles: "Girl, can I meet you?" The pretty girl snorts and walks away.
Ihhh, after all, I'm a freak - the unfortunate guy concludes.

And then - oh, happiness! Somehow he learned that there is such a thing as social dancing. Oppa, there must be a lot of beautiful girls there, and they have no one to dance with!
Came - and for sure. There are twelve girls in the group and three partners, including the teacher. The girls are one more beautiful than the other, and all are friendly, they look expectantly into their eyes, they are looking for acquaintances, friendships - well, to have their own partner - it's good. You don't need to support the wall. And that he is a freak - well, nothing, others don’t have any at all.

And the dude is blooming. Everything, sadness and loneliness are over, hello, happiness. Wherever you go, hundreds of burning eyes meet you, choose your health. And you can approach anyone without fear of being sent. Finally, the dream came true, I'm no longer a freak!
Well, some do send. So what's the deal here? Ahhh, there's still some dancing to do. OK then. I’ll quickly learn a dozen baubles, darn more beautifully and more abruptly, and voila! It's ugly, but it's not important here, and it will go wrong.
Music? And why music, I love dance, not music. I don't need it, it's too much. I am a great dancer, I love salsa.

Does he really like salsa? Yes, never.
Just imagine: a man loves a woman. How will he react to her? Most likely something along the lines of "She's beautiful, everything about her is flawless, she has amazing virtues and very nice flaws."
The one who says about a woman "I love her face and breasts, I don't care about her legs, and frankly don't like her butt at all", most likely, this woman ... that's right, he doesn't love her. What kind of relationship they have there, you can guess for a long time, but not love.

A passionate person will never stop searching. He is always interested in everything, what else is there, in the topic of interest. Dance? Wonderful. Music? Wow, write me something else. What are the words about? And why do they say that, is it so customary with them? And what else do they have there? But I heard about such a direction, what is it?

Freaks don't like salsa. Freaks love the opportunity to paint over their checkers and feel like a full-fledged person. Whether it's salsa, hustle, tango or anything else, they don't care. The main thing is that it works.

At the same time, any public mention of ugliness is perceived as a personal assault. And it causes a burning desire to immediately hit back, to explain that there was a misunderstanding, the car is actually a Mercedes, but they mixed them up, because the author himself is an even greater freak. And still pile on this author, as it should. To be more disrespectful.

What's funny, among the girls in the salsa party, I have never met a freak. There are also many different types, but there are none like that. I assume that freak girls hang out not in salsa, but somewhere where there are a lot of men and few women. In hand-to-hand combat, for example.

And finally, part three. For freaks.
Why listen to music?
Music gives birth to dance. Dance is when music is passed through your perception and the resulting emotions are expressed by the body. Performing the knots learned in the lesson without falling off the rhythm is not a dance yet. This is physical education. It's your choice, you don't need a dance, is there enough physical education? To your health, you are right. But still, let's put things in their proper names.

Why do you need to know the names of bands and artists?
How are you going to listen to music? Well, the first disc was recorded for you in response to the request "well, what a thread, some salsa for me." So? So you listened to this disc - for sure, you liked something more, something less. When you get tired of the disc, how will you get new music? Again, ask for everything in a row and erase what you don’t like? Wouldn't it be more economical to find out the names of your favorite artists and look for them?
Not to mention the fact that, digging on the Internet on your own, you can find something new, previously unheard and interesting, next to already known names and styles. Do you know what pleasure it is? Listen to not just a treasure, but self-extracted with your own hands?

Why learn Spanish?
Well, first of all, so as not to get into a stupid position. There are songs, the lyrics of which are very far from the dance theme. For example, Aventura has a song about a little girl being raped, and at the end it also turns out that her father did it. Delicate, melodic bachata. You will look elegant, for example, by putting a number under this song.
Secondly, the lyrics of many styles contain descriptions of the choreography. You, lovers of prettiness, should like it - when the whole dance floor unanimously repeats after the vocalist "two steps to the right, one to the left and clapped their hands." You deprive yourself of such pleasure.
And, thirdly, is it really not interesting, what is it about? No, not only prylyabof. Yes, romance, which beginners usually love - there is really pop and snot, there is nothing to know there. But in more serious songs, sometimes there is such poetry that it gives goosebumps.
Nope, it's not a chore and it won't take long. Spanish is a surprisingly simple language, it sticks to the brain itself. Even easier than English.

That's it, I've tired you. Look at the comments, now a crowd of freaks will hide there and start calling me a snob and an aesthete. Let's frolic. Have a good evening!

Come here and undress.(+18) - Ugly

Come here and undress.(+18)

Teen Fiction

I hate him with all my heart. How could I love him? - Let me go - I tried to escape for which I received a resounding slap in the face. I fell to the floor and abruptly stood up and ran towards the door. But it was closed. - Come here and undress - I looked at him and...

# 18 # drama # friendship # love # hate # foul language # teen literature # romance # trailer

from Felinnka



From Alice.

When I got out of the car, I noticed a familiar figure. As I walked towards it, I mentally smiled.

I knew this evening would be wonderful.

Approaching my boyfriend, I smiled at him.
- You're beautiful - Derek said. Looking into his eyes, I remembered that kiss. Blushing a little, I didn't notice how he took my hand and led me inside.

Entering the hall, I gasped.

The hall was great. I already imagined how I would dance with Derek.
- I think you don't mind if I ask you to dance.
- Of course I'm in favor - he extended his hand to me. I gladly gave it.

We began to dance. He smiled at me. It seemed that it could be even better.
Hm, although I know. Kiss him.
- Alice can I ask you something - I looked at Derek and saw a determined look.
- Of course - I answered.
- Alice who is Nathan? Saying this, he pulled me closer to him.
- How do you know about Nathan? I didn't tell you about him - my surprise was huge.
- I know everything about you my favorite color, the name of my ex-girlfriends. That's it - he grabbed my waist and took my chin and looked straight into my eyes - I wasn't joking then. You will become mine whether you like it or not.
- Have you followed me?
- Not really. I just got all the information about you - Derek replied - And I don't like the fact that you live with him.
- But he's like a brother to me. And in general it doesn't concern you, - I answered. Yes, how dare he even get into my life. At the same time, of course, it's pleasant, but fear took over.
- Doesn't matter! Maybe you also sleep with him?! - there was rage in his eyes.

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