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You sit alone in a dimly-lit alcove to one side of the room, a tall green cocktail standing untouched on the table before you. Your clothes are dark and well-fitted, and place you towards the more affluent extreme of this humble establishment’s clientele.
Like all the — mostly — men in the room your eyes are fixed on the stage at one end, where a tall athletic woman with a smooth-shaven head is finally unbuttoning the long dress which has followed her elegant and sensual gyrations these past few minutes like a billowing trail of white flame.
The last button pops open and she gives a twirl. The dress bells outward, raises, opens and finally flies away from her body as she spins… once… twice… on the third revolution she comes to a stop facing her audience, entirely nude. One arm is tight across her breasts, pulling them in and up, while her other hand rests demurely between her crossed legs.
The heavy pulse of the music pauses for a moment, dissolving into a textured swirl of sound as she holds that statuesque pose, standing perfectly still with the spotlights gleaming on her chocolate-brown skin. Then the beat picks up once more, and she resumes her graceful, alluring dance.
Every step is perfectly timed, each spin and swing deliberate and controlled. Her hands always seem to be covering her most intimate parts, revealing only an occasional dark flash of nipple or fleeting view of her hairless crotch. Her bottom she cannot hide, to the evident delight of her admiring fans. As the music nears its climax she stops moving, facing away, and those slender brown cheeks draw my gaze as though I am standing on the edge of a high cliff, unable to tear my eyes from the drop below.
She turns her head and smiles, teasingly, over her shoulder. She grabs and squeezes her buttocks, widening the inviting shadow between them, then slaps the firm flesh causing barely a ripple. She turns, no longer covering herself, and as the music enters its final passage she strides purposefully to the front of the stage, her heavy, naked breasts moving almost imperceptibly with each swing of her hips.
She squats down slowly, and her hands move between her parting thighs to cover the final secret of her nakedness. As the last chord fades she takes her hands away, places them on the floor behind her and arches her back. For a few silent seconds a hundred pairs of eyes — my own included — are aware of nothing in this world but the wide-open pink flower of her pussy.
The stage falls dark, and the room erupts in thunderous applause.
Ah, Diana, I think to myself, smiling. What an artiste.
I return my attention to you, sitting there clapping along with the rest of them. You do not whoop or cheer, as many do. There is something reserved and mysterious about you, and the way your darkly penetrating gaze moves about the room with a kind of detached evaluation.
I’m not sure why you have captivated me as you have. There are, by some standards, more attractive men here. But you have a quality they do not, and I am curious.
In the past half hour I’ve seen a dozen girls come up to your table offering private dances in one of the booths on the balcony level. Women of assorted shapes, sizes and colourings — this establishment caters to a wide variety of tastes — have approached you and each one you have declined, always with the same polite smile and almost regretful shake of the head. Perhaps a five-minute look-but-don’t-touch lap dance, forever under the roving, watchful gaze of our burly and humourless bouncers, is not enough for you. Perhaps you are looking for more than cheap titillation and thrills.
This suits me perfectly, because what I have to offer you will certainly not come cheap.
I circle the large room, smiling at a few punters but ignoring their beckoning glances. I approach your table, choosing a course that will keep me in your line of sight for as long as possible before I pass by. From the corner of my eye I see you look at me, but I turn my head away pretending to smile at someone in the distance. I walk slowly, and only as I pass right beside you do I meet your gaze. I flash you a smile as I walk by, but do not slow or stop. In a mirrored column ahead of me I see you turn your head to watch as I walk away.
I linger in the shadows at the back of the room, hidden from you. I see you glance around several times, a different expression on your face now. Eager, searching, almost pleading.
Perfect, I think with a wicked smile. It seems I have captivated you as you have captivated me.
I wait a few minutes, then walk by you again in the other direction, letting you observe me from behind. I’m wearing a short black babydoll which only just covers me. Although the lacy fabric is thin to the point of nonexistence, it appears opaque in this tastefully subdued lighting.
When I am only a few paces in front of you I feign a slight stumble, and my right foot slips out of my stiletto-heeled shoe. I bend to retrieve it, and feel the back of the negligee canlı bahis rise up over my bottom. I take my time slipping my foot back into the shoe, treating you to a tantalising view of my round, slender behind. My arse has been called divine, heavenly, peachy and perfect. I wonder which word you would choose.
As I straighten I think I hear you say something, but I ignore you and walk away, bound for a staff-only area where I know you cannot follow.
I wait another fifteen minutes before coming to you again, only slightly concerned that you might have become exasperated and left. You haven’t. You are still sitting there, watching the stage distractedly.
Another show has begun. Three women — already naked and covered in glistening oil — are engaged in some frankly bizarre erotic display involving a giant inflatable banana.
You see me, and I see you. I meet your gaze the moment I’m in your view, and walk purposefully up to your table. I stand over you, and your eyes roam down from my face over the full round curve of my bust and the black babydoll hanging beneath it, down my naked legs to my feet, and back up again.
It seems you are too spellbound to invite me to join you, so I sit down anyway, right next to you. My thigh touches yours. You swallow.
If you’re trying to keep your cool then I’m afraid you are failing. Your desire could hardly be more obvious if your tongue were hanging out.
“Hello,” I say.
You return the greeting smoothly, composing yourself, and we exchange names.
“So,” I say, “would you like a dance?”
You look almost disappointed that I’ve come to the point so quickly, but you don’t know what I have in mind.
“I don’t mean a quick strip out in the open,” I say with a gentle laugh, nodding up at the balcony and its little booths. “Nothing so obvious. There are some more… private rooms about the place. And in there, we can take all the time we need.”
You say something, but it is lost in the music. I lean closer, letting my perfume wash over you, letting the heat of my body caress you.
“Time for what?” you repeat.
“Well,” I say, smiling coyly. “What do you want?”
You seem lost for words for a moment, then change the subject.
I name a figure. Your eyes widen and you shake your head, but I persist.
“I promise it’ll be worth it,” I say, leaning even closer and placing one hand on your thigh. “It’ll just be the two of us, sweetie. No bouncers, no cameras. Just you, and me.”
I slide my hand up your thigh and find a stiffening bulge in your trousers. It moves and swells as my fingers gently caress it, teasing and stroking through the fabric. I lift out of my seat and bring my mouth to your ear.
“I guarantee you will be satisfied,” I whisper breathily. My cleavage is right on front of your face, my flesh almost touching yours. You give a tiny moan as I squeeze your cock, unable to tear your eyes from the shadow between my breasts. I sit back down and let go of you.
You sit there for a moment, breathing heavily, and then nod your head.
“Perfect,” I say with a smile. “Let’s do it then.”
Despite your apparent horror at my asking price, when you open your wallet I see a wad of almost twice as much. You hand over the money and I stash it away in the tiny purse sewn inside the babydoll. Then I lead you up the wide stairway to the balcony, past a line of open booths where women in various states of undress drape themselves over the swollen crotches of breathless men, and through a discreet black door hidden behind a hanging drape.
The stairway beyond is steep and narrow. I have to take off my shoes to climb it safely, and as I ascend I can sense your face level with my behind, only inches away. I stop suddenly, and you carry on into me, your face briefly touching my bottom through the thin lace of the babydoll. I look back over my shoulder with feigned shock.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I didn’t mean…”
“It’s alright,” I say, smiling. “But you’ll need to kiss it better.”
I lift the hem of the negligee, letting you see my bum beneath the lacy arches of my French knickers. You lean forward tentatively, licking your lips, and place a kiss in the centre of each pale cheek.
“That’s better,” I say, letting the babydoll fall back down. “Come on.”
I continue up the stairs. You follow.
The quiet, upper levels of the club are a maze of tiny corridors. I lead you to a small room illuminated by soft uplighters on deep-red walls. The thick carpet feels luxurious on my bare feet as I lead you inside and gesture at the low leather chair in the room’s centre.
“Sit down and take off your shoes,” I say. I close the door behind us as you take your place in the chair. The room is quiet except for a distant heartbeat of music from the floors below, felt more than heard.
“So… what happens now?” you ask, voice almost steady.
I smile widely in response, and walk slowly across the room to stand over you, untying bahis siteleri the babydoll and opening it to reveal my matching black bra and panties.
“What do you think?” I ask rhetorically, jumping up to straddle you. I grind my crotch down onto the obvious bulge of your stiff penis, feeling your hardness press into me, feeling myself grow wet with the sensation. Your head lolls back and you close your eyes, moaning. I ride you like this for a few moments, letting the negligee slip down my arms onto the floor, and run my hands up and down your chest. I cradle your head and pull you into my cleavage again, smothering your face with the warm, smooth globes of my breasts.
I push you back suddenly and lift myself up, away from your hardness. I reach behind my back and unhook the bra, then hold the lacy cups in place with my hands and squeeze my breasts together. The bra falls away and I kneel over you, my tits surrounding your face, small nipples pink and hard. I move one towards your face.
“Suck it, baby,” I say in a whisper.
You take my nipple into your mouth and suck it wetly. I slide one hand down to my crotch and rub my clitoris through my knickers.
I pull back and sink down onto you again, circling and grinding my pussy on you for a few moments more, then jump up off the chair and start to dance in front of you. The gusset of my panties feels wet between my legs. They’ll have to come off soon.
Although not to Diana’s high standards of grace I have, as they say, some moves on me. As I spin and strut before you, naked but for the French knickers, your desire rises fit to burst.
I turn my back on you and lean forward, putting my hands on my buttocks and squeezing. Then I straighten and very, very slowly pull my knickers down. At last my arse is revealed to you in its full, naked glory. Round, pale cheeks split by a shadow I know you would love to explore. When the knickers hit the floor I lean forwards again, putting my hands down on the soft carpet. My thighs and cheeks are spread wide open, and I hear you gasp softly as you see my pussy lips glistening, and my tight arsehole pulsing as though I am eager to take you inside me, and squeeze.
I suddenly take a pace backwards, towards you, and sit down. Your cock — surely as hard now as it can be inside those trousers — nestles between my buttocks as I rock my hips back and forth. You moan out loud as my arse slides along your concealed erection.
I’ve made men cum in their pants by doing this, but I stop before there’s any risk of that. I stand up and turn to face you. I put a foot on the arm of your chair, then jump up to stand over you. I crouch down, opening my legs and letting you see my flawlessly-waxed pussy only inches away from your face. Close enough to see my wetness in exquisite detail, close enough to feel the heat of it, close enough to smell my arousal, and only just too far away to taste it.
I take hold of your hands and bring them up to my breasts, encouraging you to caress and squeeze their firm roundness, while my own hands move between my thighs. I slide two fingers easily into my cunt and moan loudly as I finger-fuck myself with a wet sound. After a few thrusts I withdraw my fingers and place them against your lips.
You breathe in heavily, and I’m sure the scent of my pussy is fresh and clear to you.
“Lick,” I command.
You extend your tongue and lick my slick fingers, tentatively at first but then with greater abandon as my cunt-taste electrifies you. You take both fingers into your mouth and suck wildly, your hands stroking and squeezing my tits, the firm flesh yielding to your touch. You slide one hand down over my stomach and between my legs, and your questing fingers quickly find my clit and begin to circle it. Your touch thrills me, but I pull your hand away and smile.
I jump to the floor, roughly slide your legs wide apart, and kneel down in front of you.
“Get it out,” I say, staring down at the bulge in your crotch. “I want to see your dick.”
Breathless, you quickly undo your belt and fly, and slip your trousers down a little. Your boxers follow, and at last I see your penis as it swells to its full — and impressive — length and girth.
“Very nice,” I say, looking you in the eye.
Before you can respond I am already holding your cock, sliding my expert hands up and down your length. My other hand cups your balls, massaging them gently as I wank you towards ecstasy.
“Oh fuck!” you breathe. “I’m going to…”
“Not yet!” I say, stopping my hand quickly at the base of your shaft and squeezing harder beneath your balls. “There’s no rush, baby. We have all the time in the world.”
I feel the pulsing in your cock abate a little, though it never softens for a moment. I release you, deciding that you need to cool off a little before we continue. I climb up to kneel on the arms of the chair again, this time facing away from you. My bottom is right in front of your face, and you need no prompting to begin caressing me with both bahis şirketleri hands, stroking and squeezing and parting those perfect cheeks to reveal my tight pink anus.
I reach between my legs and finger my pussy again, slicking up one finger which I then withdraw and move slowly up between my cheeks. I circle my rear hole with one glistening fingertip, and give a genuine gasp of pleasure as I slide the finger up my bum. My other hand reaches down, and I finger-fuck myself in both holes as you grip my buttocks tightly and thrust your frustrated dick at nothing. You reach one hand down to touch yourself, but I quickly stop masturbating and climb away from you.
“No wanking, baby,” I say sternly. “Your pleasure is all mine.”
“Okay,” you say, resting your hands on the arms of the chair.
I kneel down between your legs again, and pull your trousers and boxers all the way down. I fling them away, run my hands up your muscled legs and chest, then start undoing your shirt so that in moments you are as naked as I am, sitting in that chair, waiting for my touch.
I grip your cock again and start to caress it gently. As your eyes close, I reach my other hand down inside the discarded babydoll, to the hidden purse, and take out a foil-wrapped condom. You gasp and open your eyes when you feel the thin latex being rolled down your length, and look at me with an expression of almost comical surprise.
“What?” I ask. “You thought this would just be a hand job?”
You say nothing.
“No, baby,” I say, lowering my face and taking the tip of your cock into my mouth. I give one long, hard suck on it, then draw back to look at you. “You’re getting the full service.”
I love giving blow jobs almost as much as I love licking pussy, and I’ve been told more than once that I have quite a talent for both. I especially love tasting a man’s cum as it gushes into my mouth. It’s a pity that there have to be rules, even here. I suck on your cock through the barely-there rubber, one hand gripping your shaft as my mouth does its work.
Your moaning and thrusting suggests you’re getting close to orgasm, and the way your cock pulses in my mouth as I lick and suck it tells me the same. I withdraw, and stand up.
“You won’t last long inside my pussy, baby,” I say, looking down at you. “But that’s okay. Just enjoy it.”
I jump up onto you, my breasts around your face again and the opening of my vagina mere millimetres from the straining tip of your penis.
“Oh that reminds me,” I say suddenly. “It’s another two hundred if you actually want to cum.”
Your panicked expression makes me literally laugh out loud.
“Only joking,” I say with a wink, and then sink down onto you.
Your length penetrates me, your girth opens me and I moan aloud as my tight pussy slides up and down your dick. I give a few hard thrusts, my tits bouncing in your face, and then stop, squeezing you inside me and allowing you just a moment to pull back from the brink before thrusting again. Another pause, another squeeze, another breathless moment of soon-to-be ecstasy. I wonder how long I could keep doing this, how long I could keep you poised on this brink.
I pull up off you. You look at me with a pleading expression, obviously desperate to cum. I’ve danced for you, stripped for you, stroked you and sucked you, fucked you and teased you and pulled back each time. I very nearly feel sorry for you.
“Ready to cum?” I ask.
You seem unable to talk now, but you nod vigorously several times. It’s safe to say you want to cum.
“Okay,” I say.
I turn away and sit down on you, taking your cock smoothly inside my pussy. You grip my arse as I bounce up and down, every motion a warm caress around you. I’m no longer teasing, no longer holding back. I’m fucking you to the end now.
“Oh fuck!” you roar. You thrust so hard that you tip me off you, onto the floor. You fall forward off the chair, landing on your knees behind me. “I need to cum!” you gasp, moving towards me.
“Hold on, baby,” I say as I straighten and turn to you. I guess I can tease you just a little bit more.
“I need to…” you begin, but I put a finger to your lips.
“You’ve lasted longer than I thought you would, baby,” I say. “So maybe you deserve a special treat. Do you like anal?”
Again you nod vigorously, mute with the agonisingly suppressed pleasure.
I drop down onto all fours again, spreading my legs to part my buttocks and expose my anus to you once more. You move towards me, but again I push you back. I slip a finger inside my pussy, slicking it up again before pushing it inside my arse, preparing my tightest and most coveted opening for you.
“Okay baby, do it,” I say. “Fuck me up the arse. Cum in my bum.”
You waste no time. You move forwards and press the quivering tip of your cock against my arsehole. There is almost no resistance, and you slip easily up my bum and begin thrusting right away.
You last only seconds. With a loud, primal roar you cum inside me. Your cock spasms and pulses inside my tight rear as you shoot your load into the rubber. You grip my hips and keep thrusting, your balls slapping my pussy as you fuck me relentlessly, squirting out every last drop of spunk.
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