Stripper Delight

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A stripper holds a special attraction for a newbie visitor.
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The following events are entirely fictional.

*****

I'd never been one to frequent skin clubs. But after a long week, I just wanted to unwind, and the company of a lovely lady was usually good for that. So I had a pocket full of Washingtons and called a cab; I worked as a researcher for a production studio in LA, and didn't drive any more frequently than absolutely necessary.

I'd never been to the place I'd chosen this evening, but I knew it was called Class Act. They did what your average strip club did; there's nothing wrong with the original recipe. They had a parade of very lovely ladies doing their respective routines, strutting and flaunting and pole-dancing.

You could sit out and watch for as long as you chose. The ladies who rotated through off the stage entered a room behind a closed door at floor level stage left. If you had a particular performer who struck your fancy, you could speak to the two proprietors of the club, both women, who sat outside the door. You could request a private session with your lady, and for the expected fee. In this case, a flat rate of $60 got you half an hour. Also as usual, it was look but don't touch, even in a private session.

There were several 12-foot-square rooms where sessions took place. Each had comfortable furniture; and a pole, of course.

It had been raining somewhat steadily when I arrived. I hoped it would be in a lull or quit completely by the time I left. Truth be told, weather was going to profoundly affect the immediate circumstances of my life.

I sat for about 45 minutes and watched five ladies work, and all of them were very pretty, nice figures, talented and outgoing. There was a lot of whistling, and dollar bills littered the stage. There's a stripper stereotype in my opinion, but this place was kinda upscale; the women didn't come across as trashy or as simply using their bodies to make a buck. They weren't airheads who had no other way to make a living. It was not a setting of crude sexuality. I thought the ladies were confident for sure, naked and somewhat on display. They knew they were attractive, as did the patrons of the club, who chose to help the ladies capitalize when talent was combined with looks.

There were blondes and a redhead and two brunettes in the first group. Lady number five, a brunette, caught my eye, for some reason. I simply sat riveted while she worked. I appreciated her routine; it was graceful and erotic and confident without being stereotypical.

She was naturally beautiful, not looking overdone. Striking but simplistic. She was probably 5-foot-5, lean but not skinny. Compact build and sporting curves at the hips, waist, and buttocks. Her hair was very dark brown, pulled into a sexy knot at the back oh her head, parted to the right, with one lock dropping across her cheek. She had big, doe-brown eyes I could have stared at forever. Her skin was lightly tanned.

When her routine was done, she moved off the stage with easy grace a lot of women envied.There was now a brief intermission. I watched the final performer let her hair down as she walked off. It was glossy and straight, falling a bit below her shoulders.

I let her disappear, then wasted no time. I walked over and conversed with one of the club owners, Julie, I discovered. "That last brunette. Does she have time for a personal session before she's out of here?" I asked.

"Her shift ends in an hour. I could tell you were a little awestruck. We don't promote crudeness here, but several of the guys look at her like they want nothing more than to bend her over. She's confident, and nothing has happened, but most nights, there's one guy who is just ga-ga, and we encourage him to buy her entertainment till her shift ends," Julie said.

She leaned into the room and called for the lady, named Leah. She came out and threw a huge smile at me. "I could feel you all star-stuck in your seat," she said quietly, with a handshake. "Follow me. I'll take you back." Julie grinned at me as we left. I told Leah my name was Tim. "I like that name," she said. We walked to the left wall of the club and entered a room. Leah closed the door. I stared openly at her lovely shape and smooth skin, playing her honey-smooth voice in my head.

She could feel me watching. "Would you like a full hour?" she inquired, turning her brown eyes on me. I was fast coming to terms with her physical self, except for those eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. Around it all, I noted the rain picking up outside. I settled myself on a plush couch. There was a pole in this room, as well as a means for playing music.

"I like to start with a little pole work first. Got any preference as far as music?" Leah asked.

"Definitely no pop. I'm very selective about what I listen to as far as rap, too."

"Rock and roll, then?" she asked.

"There you go," I told her.

She walked over and dialed in the stereo. As she grabbed the pole, the opening notes of AC/DC's "You Shook Me All Night Long" rolled into the room.

I simply watched for the next five minutes. Leah swung herself around the pole, shimmied up and slid back down, showing off her figure and very nice legs. If her feet were on the floor, she was stepping and strutting in rhythm to the music. Knowing the song by heart, she hit all the high points just right. As the song ended, she tossed in some air guitar.

She paused the stereo, and walked over to me. Still I gawked at her wonderful figure, completely on display. She cued Jason Aldean's "Dirt Road Anthem."

She parked herself on my lap. She took my face in her hands and gently guided it into her perky B-cup breasts. As the slow tune played, she worked her tits, rubbing them all over my face.

Leah stood up, and rubbed various parts of herself against me. It definitely created a nice sensation. She cued more Jason Aldean and gave me another slow, grinding lap dance. I let myself get hard. I needn't have been embarrassed; at one point Leah fondled my cock carefully and grinned.

Forty minutes absolutely evaporated. Leah cued some rap music; Coolio's "Gangsta Paradise." Every time the instrumentals and bass hit, her ass smacked into my legs, and she rubbed it across my thighs.

She was now sweating some; she wiped the worst of it on my shirt. I couldn't have cared less. She now played Tu Pac's "California Love." She started by stepping in time to the music. When the chorus hit, she bounced her knockers.

Then she backed toward me, and when the bass hit, she shook her ass and bounced it carefully into my lap. A couple of times, I could have sworn she passed gas on my lap.

As the song finished, during a final bass sequence, I know she did; I caught the end of the noisy rumble as the music stopped. I heard Leah sigh.

"Sorry," she said. "I gotta go shit a brick."

"Little thing like you, I wouldn't think that's possible," I said. She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. "Says you," she said sarcastically. She disappeared through a door in the far wall of the room. I took in the room, all mellow colors, dim lighting and candles. I snagged a magazine.

Leah emerged in five minutes. She was moving in even more relaxed fashion now, if that was possible. She glided over and took my hand. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"I have proof to show you," she said, smiling. And so we stepped into the bath and stood in front of the toilet. Leah pointed, and I looked. In the bowl was a huge, dark load. Probably six inches long, the diameter of your average orange. "You didn't," I said, struck dumb.

"I can. I did," Leah said, smiling slyly and proudly at the same time. She flushed after closing the lid. She led me out into the room again. I sat, and she lowered herself into my lap again. I noted my time was up. I pulled 7 $20 bills from my jacket pocket, and handed them to her. She put one between her headlights, and held the rest.

"Stay here," she said. She slid off my lap and stepped to the exit door. She reappeared a minute later. I could hear the downpour outside. "You need a ride out of here?" she asked.

"I'll call a cab," I said.

"Let me rephrase that. I'm offering. Would you like a ride out of here?"

Something told me that if I refused, she wasn't going to let me live it down. "All right," I surrendered.

I watched her dress, and we slipped into the main room and made it to the front entry. She told me to wait, then stepped outside. Five minutes later, an early-2000s BMW X3 SUV rolled to the curb. With no tint on the windows, I could just see Leah beckoning.

I made the mad dash and piled into the front passenger seat. She drove off. In five minutes, I said, "We're nowhere near my neighborhood."

She answered, "Can you enter your house through your garage?" I had a carport, I told her.

"So you'd stand outside getting drenched while you unlock the house door. Come with me, get out of the Beemer in my garage, and I'll worry about what's next when the rain quits," Leah said.

Thank God it was a Friday night. "So you're kidnapping me," I stated.

She snorted. "Fuck. I'm a little hottie, you know you'd do anything I told you. Or go along with my mini master plan for the evening. Putty in my hands."

She had a point. I sighed, not saying anything aloud. "Besides, it's temporary," she added. "I have to let you go back to your life. Someone might be pissed if you miss work, or some shit."

Another point. She drove for another five minutes, carefully in the weather, a rare California downpour. We eased into a driveway and through an automatic garage door.

The ignition switched off, and Leah said, "By the way, I have groceries in the back I could use help with." I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough. She stepped out and fingered her keys till she found what she needed. I grabbed the first and second of five paper bags from the vehicle.

Two steps put me through the door into her kitchen. At the end of it, before the living room area, was a hallway. Its second wall was the near wall of the living room. The opposite living room wall was mostly open, and showed a flight of stairs. One or more bedrooms, a bathroom for sure; maybe an office or den or library.

I set the groceries on a mobile island. "Not bad for a stripper," I noted.

"Everybody who's been in here has said that," Leah confirmed, completely deadpan. "I do the club Thursday and Friday nights; I pull thirty hours as a paralegal the other three days every week."

"And you're not dead, how?" I queried.

"The club doesn't take that much out of me. For the most part, I find stress relief," Leah pointed out. She further told me this place was nearly paid for.

"How old are you, anyway?" I asked.

"I guess you like twenty questions," she said. "I'm thirty."

"Had me fooled," I admitted. She didn't look a day over twenty-five.

By this time she'd stashed the groceries away. She closed the living room drapery. She flipped on the TV as I followed her in. She channel-surfed, and found Wanted on cable. It was near the beginning. I parked myself on the leather couch when she turned to me and gestured.

She walked over and stood next to me, slowly peeling off her clothes until she was nude. My attention wandered easily from the TV screen. She knew she had me since the private session at Class Act. She had been planning to offer me a ride, and used the weather to get me here; not that it was anything to complain about.

She folded herself into my lap. She leaned back and said, "The no-touch rule has been lifted." I gently slid my arms around her, taking in her weight, her warmth, her smooth skin. "Oh, my God," I said quietly. "If you haven't been told, you're gorgeous."

She turned, and her lips worked on my left cheek. I stayed exactly as I was. I said, "Do me a favor, and just sit here until the movie ends, all right?"

She grinned, and I realized how lovely her facial features alone were. "Sure, as long as you want," she agreed.

Nearly two hours later, the rain still fell, and the movie ended. I wasn't comatose, but I expected Leah to be. But she too was awake. "Would you like to come to bed?" she asked.

"I don't want to seem forward, but I'd go to bed with you in a heartbeat," I stated.

"I figured," Leah said. She led the way to her bedroom and a king bed. She undressed me, and I laid down. "No worries. This isn't a one-night stand or frantic sex. I want to take you for a ride. You want me to take you. Enjoy it, Tim," Leah said.

She straddled my legs below my groin. She stretched out on top of me, and her left hand trailed down and found my standard equipment, already semi-hard. She fondled me very gently to full hardness, and she produced a condom and slid it over my shaft.

Now I went to work. With her sitting on me, our lips met and our tongues probed. I fondled and groped her breasts, and rubbed my face on them. I continued, and Leah panted; she rubbed herself and put two fingers near my nose. I smelled her.

She reached down and wrapped her hand gently around my cock. She shifted and guided me inside her. I gasped at the hot feeling of being between her legs. She leaned over, her tits resting gently on my face. She began a slow up-down rhythm, completely powered by her hips.

"Damn. If you do that the entire time, it's fine by me. Fuck, that feels really good," I said, breathing hard in my enjoyment. We kissed some more, and she stayed with her theme of gentle. She maintained the rhythm with her hips. I fired into the condom twice while she worked.

Keeping her hips moving, Leah said, "I'm wet. I need to get off. That means I need faster pumping. You ready?" she asked quietly.

I couldn't possibly deny this lovely bombshell anything. "Go," I consented. In a feat of world-class coordination, Leah simply sped up her jackhammering hips. I clamped my hands on her shoulders from behind, and breathed deeply for as long as she worked.

She slid me out of her. She sat up and plastered my face into her chest. Still spread-legged, she rubbed herself, took a breath, and muffled the lengthy scream that came while her serious orgasm doused my lap. She wasn't physically shaking, but her breathing was very shaky thanks to her climax.

She rode the after-effects for a few minutes. "Shower?" she questioned.

"Since you made a mess, yeah," I said. Stunning me again, she spun, and backed her bare ass directly into my face. She reached back and held my head for thirty seconds. The smooth, naked cheeks felt soft and supple. She turned to face me again, noting my dazed look. My head hit the pillow again. Leah leaned over and kissed my forehead.

We showered separately, me taking special care to rid myself of Leah's gift. In truth, I certainly didn't mind. But as much of a smart-ass as she was, I was okay letting her think I did.

We were now in the wee hours of the next morning. We crashed in the same bed for eight hours, neither of us sleeping more than five. Each of us had a light breakfast around 10. The rain was not coming down when I decided I wanted to get outdoors for a bit. I took 2 laps around Leah's block.

By 2 o'clock, we had a light lunch of sandwiches and fruit. An hour after finishing, Leah announced she had to go do her duty again. "You can come along if you want," she added. In the bathroom, she peeled off all her clothes. I ditched my pants and boxers as Leah sat herself down.

For a couple minutes, I stood there. I just admired her form, sitting there on the toilet. Eventually, she held out her hand. I reached over, and Leah spread her legs and guided me onto a small portion of the seat.

She leaned into me, and I shivered, remembering the wonderful feel of her nude body in close proximity to me. She relaxed and did her business, leaving an earthy stench in the immediate area. Leah nestled me, and we moved off the toilet. She wiped and flushed and washed her hands. The look I got at her deposit revealed a very large, dark mass in the bowl.

Not long after we returned to the living room area, there was a knock on the front door. Leah got up, checked it by cracking it, then opened it wide to allow the visitor to enter. It was Julie, the club owner who had facilitated my meeting Leah.

"I just wanted to make sure things were okay," she said. "Nothing bad happened with you and you got here all right."

"Yeah, everything's fine," Leah assured her.

Julie was dressed in black jeans and a blue blouse. She was full-figured, about five-eight with a nice chest and a compact, solid-looking, very round ass. She had red hair, worn straight, no bangs, and green eyes.

Surprisingly, she stepped over toward me, and I stood up. As she moved, I noted her hair was in a ponytail, and it dropped nearly to her butt. Julie hugged me. "Hi, Tim. Leah must have treated you okay," she said, keeping the hug on. I looped my arms just above her butt.

Julie continued to hold me close, suddenly releasing a loud rumble. She'd passed gas. She looked at Leah, saying, "Bathroom?" Leah pointed. Then she looked at me. Then Julie did. She looked back at Leah and said, "What's the deal?"

Nonchalantly, Leah stated, "Tim likes it when a lady takes a shit."

Julie grinned. "I've heard of that kind of thing. Owning a club, you research into all kinds of sexually oriented things. I guess we're talking about ladies you find attractive, personally," she declared, looking at me.

"Yes, ma'am," I admitted shyly.

"Well shit, don't be too embarrassed. There's a lot of other helluva lot worse and even weirder things to be drawn to," she noted. "So if you want to come along, I'll let you, if you want the turn-on."

I accepted, and Julie bestowed another brief hug before I followed her back to the porcelain fixture. Once there, she dropped her jeans and panties and sat. "You want to sit on my lap?" I nodded, faced Julie, and straddled her thighs, easing down carefully.

"There. No problem," Julie assured me. She pulled her pony over the front of her shoulder. "Little problem with long hair when I need the toilet," she said. She gave me another wide, easy smile.

We sat there. Julie relaxed, and wrapped her arms around my torso. I leaned toward her. She passed gas loudly again, sighing, and I felt her body working to empty her bowels. She took a breath and pushed, groaning for several seconds and not stopping her effort.

Whatever ended up in the bowl, it had to be big and solid; it hit the water with a loud splash. With it gone, I heard Julie sigh.

Not wanting her to think I was overly weird, I stood and stepped aside. Julie wiped and got her clothes back in position. I took a look while she washed her hands. A light-colored load about 4 inches long and as big around as my fist met my eyes.

"Very nice," I said aloud.

"I try," Julie said, smiling again.

I flushed and we departed. When we returned to the living room, Julie parked herself next to Leah and sat me on her lap. She was also very pretty in her own way. She cuddled for a few minutes, then announced that she should be on her way.

Julie told me it was nice to meet me and asked me to come visit the club again. That was pretty likely.

The rain was not making things miserable, so we got into Leah's BMW and she put my home address in the nav and started driving. She stopped at the curb out front and we walked up and went inside, entering the living room.

I sat down on my couch. Daringly, Leah was wearing a bathrobe. She stripped it off and faced me, straddling my lap. She kissed me, and then she rubbed her nude self all over me. She stood, and I watched her slide the robe back on. I thanked her profusely, and told her she was beautiful.

She hugged me a final time as we stood by the door, and said, "Come see me again soon. Can't have you feeling deprived of my hotness."

12