The Dance

Spent, sweating and shivering, you pull out of me and slump gently into a heap on the soft carpet. The condom is a drooping bag of white spunk hanging from your slowly-detumescing dick. I pull it off, tie it and bin it before you make a mess.

As I do this your cock begins to harden again. I'm amazed, you look spent and barely conscious, but you are getting another erection.

"Well," I say, "you did pay a lot of money for this."

I begin to stroke you again, and quickly you are as hard as before. Your eyes remain closed, but you are clearly back with me. I take my hand away and help you back into the chair, then kneel between your legs to start wanking you again. I use a multitude of strokes to stimulate you -- spiralling my fingers around your shaft, gently squeezing the head between my fingers, circling the underside of your glans with my thumb. I even, briefly, fuck you with my tits. I slide those large globes of flesh up and down your penis, feeling a dribble of pre-cum spread over my skin, conscious of the throbbing heat which tells me you are close to orgasm again.

I am not, however, going to let you spunk all over my chest. Few pleasures are denied you tonight, but that is one of them. Instead, as I feel you twitch and swell in my hand, I snatch up my knickers from the floor and wrap them around your cock. You look down at me and smile, then close your eyes and give a long, low moan as I start to rub the pussy-soaked lace up and down your dick. You jolt in the chair as though electrocuted, thrusting your hips, fucking my hand with your panty-covered dick.

You cum. You make hardly a sound -- just a breathy sigh -- as your cock pulses and spasms and fills my knickers with thick white spunk. I feel it drip down my hand, viscous, wet and hot. You shudder and jerk, your cock throbbing in my hand as I squeeze the very last of that hot liquid out of your balls.

A few moments pass in quiet stillness. You sit in the chair, sweat-sheened and panting, my cum-soaked panties still draped over your dick, while I kneel before you, my breasts glistening with pre-cum and a slyly satisfied smile on my lips. There are tissues in a box under the chair. I hand some to you and then start to clean myself up.

A few minutes later we emerge from the private room, clothed and wiped clean though I am still a little sticky and the babydoll clings to me oddly. Thankfully my deceptively compact purse also contained a spare pair of knickers. I lead you through the warren of corridors to the stairway. You pause at the top.

"Here," you say, getting out your wallet and opening it. "That was, ah, fantastic. Never had anything quite like... well, anyway, here's a tip."

You hold out the cash. I open the babydoll, exposing my underwear to you again.

"Right boob," I say.

You look confused for a second, then laugh and gently slip the money into my right bra cup, down underneath my breast, giving it a little squeeze as you withdraw your hand.

"Oh," I say, pouting. "Nothing for the left one?"

I shake my other tit, letting the flesh ripple at you.

You sigh, but smile and push another wad of cash into my left bra cup. You take another few notes and draw closer, putting your arms around me and lifting the back of the babydoll.

"And a little something for your peachy little arse," you say, slipping your hand down the back of my knickers and leaving another roll of cash pressing against my left buttock.

"You've already given it quite a big something," I say with a wink. "But thank you."

I turn and lead you down the narrow stairway, out onto the balcony and back into the noise and heat of the club. The stage lights are up, and a curvaceous blonde woman is demonstrating the finer points of accessorised autoeroticism to a highly attentive audience.

As we descend the wide stairway you lean closer to me and speak over the music.

"I'm sorry, that, er... blew my mind," you say. "What's your name again?"

"Myr," I reply.

A trio of raucous businessmen now occupy your table. You follow me as I walk past them, making for the back of the room and the way out. You still follow as I walk out into the reception area, and up to the counter. The elegantly dressed woman behind the desk smiles at me, then walks off into the cloakroom.

You look a little confused as I wait there. For a moment, perhaps, you wonder if I am so enchanted by your company that I plan on coming home with you.

I'm afraid not.

"Are you done for the night?" you ask uncertainly, as I take my thin summer jacket and put it on.

"I guess so," I say.

A bouncer opens the door for me, and we step out into the warm London night.

"You're going home dressed like that?" you ask. "Don't you get changed when you finish work?"

"Work?" I ask, then laugh. "Oh, I don't work here."

"You don't?"

"No, I just popped in because I know a few of the girls," I explain. "Also the manager and his wife are old friends. My first threesome, in fact. Charming couple."

"But we just... I mean... erm... you know... we..."

"Fucked, yes, I noticed," I say easily, making for a line of black cabs waiting at the kerb. "I saw you and decided I wanted sex. I thought that's what you wanted, too. Was I wrong? I hope you don't feel I coerced you in any way."

"No... no, that is what I... well, I did want, you know... and all that, but..." you stammer, then lower your voice. "I paid."

"Yes, and that was very generous of you," I say with a smile, turning to face you with one hand on the door of the lead taxi. "But that isn't the sort of service this place provides, sweetie. It's a strip club, not a brothel. You just got lucky." I wink at you. "Anyway, goodnight!"

I open the taxi door, climb inside and close it behind me. The window is already open. I lean out, reaching inside my bra to pull out some of your money and wave it at you.

"Thanks for the tip!" I call brightly.

The taxi pulls away and you are left slack-jawed on the pavement. I shove the money back under my tit and settle into the seat, laughing my peachy little arse off as I vanish into the night.