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We have gone to my house after your shift. I still grin like an idiot every time I see you. You are so beautiful and desirable I sometimes can’t believe that you are with me. And sometimes I worry that I may disappoint you. But here we are.
I have to kiss you every time. I just can’t get enough of you. And my hands always find your hair. I love your curls. I like the contrast of pulling your hair harshly and kissing you so softly. We both have roommates, though I have more. It’s hard sometimes to have any time with a place to ourselves, but we manage. We kiss a lot when we make love, not just because we like to, but to silence our cries. And my pillows have more than a few bite marks. Another Monday, I’ve had a few hours to think about what I’d like, but you have other plans.
“You didn’t come in today.”
“I thought I might distract you from making money. And even though I know that you are a dancer and I really don’t have a problem with that, I might if I have to see you for hours and you not be available whenever I want. That’s not fair to you.”
“So why don’t you find another girl to entertain you?”
“Hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Well, we’ll have to think about this some, won’t we. But not right now. I have something in mind for tonight.”
“You weren’t there, so I imagined what I would do if you were. But what I would do to you isn’t legal in public, so I thought I might try it tonight.”
“Just trust me. I’m driving now.”
This is new. And I like new. I’ve been just a bit worried that I was taking too much control over… whatever this is between us, but it appears that won’t be a problem. My brain is working overtime, trying to figure out what you might want to do. I can imagine many things, all of them very arousing. I decide to return the favor, my hand creeping along your knee and thigh, fingers reaching for all the sensitive places that I have discovered. You put your hand over mine, stopping my progress. At a light, you look over to me, eyeing the tent in my jeans in particular.
“You’re going to have to wait.”
I think about pushing, but stop myself. “Ok.” I return my hand to my side and we continue on.
Usually I would attack you just outside the door, kissing you deeply, hands roving all about, before opening it, because one never knows who might be in the living room and how long I might have to wait. Since only Steve’s car is in the driveway, it’s not a real problem. And upon opening the door I find him just going out. I just wave and introduce you. Then you are dragging me to my room as he leaves.
“Won’t be this way all the time.”
You shrug and sit down in front of my computer. “So, this is where you write all those lovely, wonderfully nasty stories.”
“That’s not all I write on it, but yes.”
“And you keep music on it as well.”
“Over 400 mp3 files. Taking up about a gigabyte of space on the harddrive.”
“Under Real Player?”
“No, Winamp. It takes up less space. Why?”
“Shush. Just answer my questions. Hmm,” you say as you look over the playlist titles. “Slow Strip, Hard Strip, Stripping, Techno. Where do you get your inspiration? Let’s try Slow Strip.”
Lots of good songs there, and now I have some clue as to what you have in mind, but I let it go. Aerosmith, Bush, Garbage, Bon Jovi. Black Velvet by Alannah Myles. Some Stevie Ray Vaughn. Good, slow stuff.
You figure out Winamp pretty easily. Then you turn to me, sitting on the bed. When you get out of the chair your eyes grab mine and you give me the ‘come-hither’ glance. Then you point to the chair and my feet just move all on their own. You whisper in my ear- “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”
You leave the room and I wait. I can hear the door out of the house open and close, then your car door. Now, I am happy to do as you ask, but if you are leaving, there is a limit. Luckily I hear the door open and close again, then the house door. But you take an unexpected trip to the bathroom. Hmm, went to the car and then the bathroom. Ohh, changing clothes. Into what? The mind boggles.
I hear your voice outside my door. “Start the Slow Strip playlist, put it on shuffle. I’m not coming in till you do. And move the chair right in front of the tv.”
I am tempted to ask why, but I don’t. This is your show. “Done. Now what?”
“Light two candles. Turn off the computer monitor. And take off your shoes.”
I do so as quickly as I can. I light the two vanilla candles. Isaac doesn’t like them, but I don’t care. “Anything else?”
“Close your eyes.” I do with a shiver of anticipation. Portishead-Sour Times. I love it’s slow bass guitar and the singer’s voice. It reminds me of one of those old lounge song, I think. You know, with the sultry voiced woman singing her pain. I hear the door and I open my eyes. Ohh, that turquoise gauzy dress I first say you in. I love that. You glide to my lap, your weight comfortable pendik escort there.
“Would you like some company?,” you ask. I can’t help but smile, but avoid the laugh that welled up inside me. Did you know that I hadn’t planned on buying a dance from you that day? But when you sat down and spoke to me for a bit I just went with it when you asked. And then I got to touch you and you liked it. So I bought another. And the rest is.. where we are now.
Thinking about it for a minute I decide to play a little differently. “Sure, but I have to warn you I don’t have much money.”
You hand strokes under my chin as you give me a measuring gaze. I return your soft touch with a few of my own, down your shoulder and arm with the back of my hand. Up and down your back in random circles. “Well, were pretty slow today, so maybe I can let you slide. Do you have anything to trade?”
“Trade? Like what?”
“Any skills? You have a soft touch, are you a massage therapist?”
“No. I’ve been told that I might have talents in that area.” I enjoy your amused smile. Who was it that gave me that idea, hmm?
“Well I thought about it, but I realized that life is not a cable movie. Not everyone who paid for my services would be beautiful. Actually, truly, stunningly beautiful women intimidate me a bit in normal social situations. Not that that is the case here, but a strip club is not a normal social situation. And I’d take an average looking woman with intelligence and charm over an airhead blonde anyway. Now all that I could probably handle, but it’s the occasional 300 lbs grandmother that might give me some trouble. But I do think that you are quite beautiful.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Not really. But every woman I end up talking with seems to end up beautiful to me. It’s quite strange.”
“Well. Any other skills?”
“I’ve been told that I write well.”
This time the laughter escapes your tightly compressed lips anyway. “Really, what do you write?”
“Lost of stuff. Sci-fi, fantasy, erotica.”
“Porn, you mean.” Another song now. Eric Clapton- Layla. The acoustic version.
“Ok, I’ll dance for you provided you bring me a sample of your work tomorrow.”
Then the negotiation is over. We sit enjoying the song for a few minutes, singing along. You have a beautiful voice. You said that you sing and write songs. Maybe you’ll sing one for me sometime. This is fun. Sitting here with you in my lap. I could get used to this. But just as I am doing so, you remind me what we are really doing. Another song, this one by Bush. Glycerine.
You start with with you back to me, swaying slowly to the heavy beat of the lone guitar. First one side of the dress, then the other, each sway sliding the sides down further until they reach your hips. My hands join yours to push it further down to the floor. You kick it aside, then bend over to show of the lovely curve of your ass, your hand traverses it slowly, knowing that my eyes follow. Even giving it a little smack. You look over your shoulder at me, your eyes hooded by your curly locks. Yes, you have my attention.
My hands are reaching for you as you stand up, turning to the side to show your profile. I stop myself, gripping the sides of my chair instead. You complete the turn, your arm demurely across your breasts, the other brushing aside your hair. God, that is an image. You lean in, hands on mine as you breath in my ear-“How do you like it so far?”
My tongue answers first at your ear-“Wonderful. You are so beautiful.”
I like your hands in my hair, but not the pulling you find so arousing. Just stroking through it. Now you are touching me as I have you, tracing lines as lightly as you can, your fingers rove over my lips and as they pass I kiss them. You lean in again, passing your breasts closer and closer to my face, daring me to kiss them, breaking the rules. What would happen if I did? I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out yet. So I just blow my breath across them and kiss your chest between them. Tease for tease. Then your knees join me in the chair, your belly is staring my in the face. I kiss here as well and my tongue presses into your bellybutton. I love the softness here.
Then there is the slide. Is there a more sexy sight than a woman slinking her way from being face to face to down to her knees- slowly? Like a scarf falling to the ground, dragged by the wind. Only a scarf wouldn’t have fingers that take a detour to my nipples, pinching them just enough to get them to peek out. I grit my teeth and growl. Halfway down your eyes catch mine, and I can see the desire there. ‘Watch me’ they say. ‘Watch me perform for you’. I don’t think I can call you a tease. I mean, a tease doesn’t finish what they start. And you do.
But then again, maybe I can. You tease me, pressing your face into the tent made by my hard cock, confined as it is by my khakis. Even humming and blowing on it. I have had enough escort pendik of that, so I grab you hair, forcing you to look up, your eyes flashing as I wiggle my finger from side to side. ‘No No.’ You do it just once more, then on to something else. Another of my favorite things.
You lean back against me, your shoulders resting on my chest. The view is irresistible. You have to a lot of confidence to do it, I think. But then it must be hard to do it at the club. Do you like it better now? I can see from your lovely tits to your shapely legs. My fingers are drawn again to draw a line from your navel to your throat. My lips press against your collarbone as you sway. Your eyes are closed- What are you seeing? Feeling? How can I make you feel so good? What is it in me that can do this? Your smile makes my heart skip a beat. I know it is just for me, so soft and full of promise.
Then you are sitting again, just in time for another song. Fell on Black Days-Soundgarden. Somewhat faster. And you take advantage, your tight ass against me is breathtaking; this is a lap dance. You are dancing- in my lap. And I love it. “You are a hot little bitch.” I whisper in your ear. I hope it’s all right for you, for me to say that. But it is what comes to mind as you writhe against me like vine. My mouth is on your neck again, nipping and sucking as I hear your breath run from you just inches from my ears. It’s the little things that get to me. Have to be careful, can’t leave anything to permanent.
Or can I? “Ahh. Mayb- Ohh yes, right there. Like that. Maybe just a little one. Arhm. Just a little..”
Surprised, I bite down just a bit and your hands are on my head, urging me on. So I press harder. Less bite, more pressure. I know how good it feels, warm-wet tongue against entrapped skin, just beyond the edge of bruising. Is it my imagination or do I taste the slightest hint of copper? Blood? I hope I haven’t gone that far. My hands are on your breast, harsher here as well, pinching and scratching. And your nails are on my thighs, thankfully through my pants. You have almost frozen in place in my lap, only the occasional shudder arouses me, even more so in their unpredictability. The song ends and I stop, licking now to clean the mark I have left. You face me quickly, kissing me abruptly. A reward? You aren’t talking. Another song, another dance.
I wonder, how does that make you feel, to know that a man has a hard on for you? I would think that, at the least, it is a sign that you are doing your job well. And what about when I am hard? Are you thinking of all the wonderful things you could be doing to me? I know that right now, I am thinking of some nasty, naughty things that I want to do to you. But you are in charge.
Ohh, yummy. Metallica-Turn the Page. Slow and steady. And long. Hehe. Your knees beside my legs in the chair, my mouth roves randomly from your collar to your neck. Your fingers are undoing the buttons on my shirt and untucking it. I don’t help, instead busying my hands on your back and in your hair. I am a little more daring now, my fingers brush under the edge of your black thong panties and down to the inside of your thighs. As the song ends you sink down into my lap again, this time facing me. I am amazed at how easy that is for women. My best friends brother is the only guy I have ever seen do it, but he has an excuse. He once broke his hip and the physical therapy left him quite flexible. But women… they just can. And it brings you to eye level.
As the song ends you hastily finish the last few buttons and yank my button up off and untuck my t-shirt. But you don’t take it off. I am puzzled, but it’s your show. You just smile, your fingers playing at the edge of my shirt and pants. I tense as your hands wander over my trapped cock and you laugh. The song starts and you are in front of me again, leaning slightly on the desk. Your hands play over your body as I like to do and you are staring at me as you do so. You wet your fingers with a cat-like lick and apply them to your hardened nipples, making them stand out even further. Pinching them, your breath catches and mine with it. Like honey, your right hand slides slowly down your side, over each rib and bump along the way to the waistband of your panties. Then around to the front, playing them over the thin material hiding your treasure from my gaze. Will you go further? So far, as hot as this has been, it would have been legal at the club. But then-
You slide them so slowly inside the warm confines of your underwear, I can just barely see this as your eyes are holding mine, daring and pleading with me at the same time- ‘Watch me. Watch my eyes.’ So I do, as hard as it is I watch your face as your fingers are exploring. Your teeth bite your lower lip in that alluring way that demands a kiss, or at least a smile. I think of it as a question -‘Does he like this? Does he want more?’ My answer is yes, I hope my eyes are enough to say it clearly enough.
You close yours for a brief moment, take a small pendik escort bayan breath and open them again to speak. The words hit me like a lightening bolt, deafening me to all else-“I am so wet for you.”
I am on you in a second, my mouth seeking your fiercely, wanting to taste those delicious words, and you accept my need for a moment. Joining in it, allowing your desire to flow with mine, but only a few; your hand is at my neck, stroking my cheek as the other is pressing me back to my chair. Kisses smooth the way as I regain a small measure of composure. But I see in your eyes, you wanted that. I admit it, you can make me lose control. As you kiss me lightly your hands move to the hem of my shirt, dragging it over my head. Eager to just play you leave it there, attacking my nipples with your lips. I cry out, almost grabbing you and… but I freeze my hands on my shirt and let you play me like a musical instrument. Your teeth, fingers and lips drawing muted cries and moans from inside me. I want to laugh, to cry, to grab you and make you mine, but I just lay back. Just writing this my hands jump to interfere. Finally you relent, finishing the job you started. Your kiss is especially appreciative and as our lips play across one another your nimble fingers undo my belt and pants, leaving them loose around my waist. My hard cock peeks out from the top of my boxers but we ignore it. On with the show.
Candlebox- Far Behind. You stand up straight but still close to me, swaying in that alluring way as your curly locks wave in front of me. Your hands attract my eyes to your hips and over your bottom, where they redden each cheek with a slap or two. Then the left hand lingers as you bend over, tightening your fine posterior even further. Your fingers entwine in the waistband of your black panties and pull it down slightly, then stop. Your right joins it briefly on the other side as your fingers pace there. A message? Oh. I know now. My right joins yours as we pull them down. I follow your lead and you lead slowly, stopping briefly to leave them halfway down. You turn and they are just above your center, allowing the curly hairs there to peek out. I pull forward to kiss this newly exposed flesh- as if to welcome it to my world. Looking up I see your soft eyes appraising me warmly as you caress my ears. I can smell you, just under the scent of your bodywash and perfume, yummy damp sweetness. I can’t resist one kiss but I retreat quickly back to my chair.
I am loving this. You make me feel so… wanted. This is you- playing. Using your body to play with me, your eyes, your hands, everything, all in concert to provoke a response from me. I only hope that I can do the same for you in some other way, ’cause God knows I can’t dance.
You are naked now, the candles light soft on your skin, playing shadows across it. If you are shy about it, you don’t show it. But you don’t push it either. I am so hard it hurts and I can see the light flash in your eyes. My turn to be naked now. The only question now is how long is it going to take and how much teasing will be involved.
Behind me now, your hands cover my eyes and I close them, shivering in anticipation. Bittersweet Symphony. How appropriate, it seems to match just how I feel right now. Soft build up with the violins. You voice in my ear hums along as your hands start on my shoulders. Tracing muscles and kneading them. You lips on my neck now, your teeth marking me as your hands roam my nipples and stomach. Your body is halfway over mine as your hands caress me, I can feel and smell your hair as your hands start getting serious. Inside my boxers to find me hard. My lips press into your sides as you take your time, exploring me as you never have before. I am thankful for the soft glow of candles, blurring imperfections, as well as hiding blushes. You tilt my head back and I know that you are looking at my face. Not much to look at, I think, but I keep my eyes closed as I feel your fingers here too. When I tighten up you shush me with your fingers and I make an effort to relax, exhaling slowly. I can feel your smile on my cheek and then your tongue on my lips- upside down. I open them slightly and you take advantage, pressing more deeply into me. I can resist no longer when you become impatient and pinch my nipples, causing me to gasp. Then my tongue dances with yours, our breath joins where our mouths do.
Somehow you are in front of me again, managing this without breaking our kiss seems impossible, but you do. I know that you want to take my pants off but I would like to do something first. How do we talk about it without saying a word? We work it out, leaving you in my lap again as we kiss. One arm around you to keep you from slipping, the other on your knee, sliding down. Then up to trail up the so sensitive inside thigh, almost but not quite touching your sex, past your hip. Pausing at each nipple to test their firmness. Hmm, very stiff. Then to your supple neck to your hair. I grab it roughly, knowing you like it and kiss you the same. Just this one thing for me. Down your jaw to where our lips are attempting to join before we do. I speak in the low whisper that is all I can muster as I draw my fingers to out lips- “Make them wet for you.”
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