by John P. Stevenson ©
He felt his cock start to stiffen as she danced for him, not the harsh, rapid bump and grind that was the usual forte of the girls in these types of places, but slow, undulating, almost hypnotic movements that captivated him, and were easily the most erotic thing that he had ever seen. Her hands caressed the soft curves of her body, sliding upward over her breasts, gently stroking her delicate skin. In his mind, they were his hands touching her; cupping her lovely, firm mounds of flesh; his fingers teasing her erect nipples, squeezing, making her moan with delight.
Just as he felt himself ready to cum, the music ended, but not the spell that had him enthralled. She sat down in his booth, licking her lips as, under the table, she ran her foot up his leg, not stopping until it reached his crotch. With the sole of her bare foot, she began to stroke his hard shaft through the material of his trousers. He was forty-eight, had been married to the same woman since he was 18, and had never been with another. This was, without a doubt, the most intense sexual experience of his life.
He was in San Francisco on a business trip, and had wandered into this bar while exploring the city. He had intended to leave, when he had seen the most beautiful girl he had ever encountered. Small, almost childlike, she nonetheless possessed a woman's body. Full, soft curves of alabaster white shone in the garish spotlights, the coral tips of her breasts, and the deep red of her lips and nails the only hint of color on her body. Her angelic face was framed by long, straight black hair, which hung down below the curve of her ass. It was the only hair on her body; the smoothness of her skin was unbroken and unblemished, and every inch of it was bare to his view. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes beckoned him over, and, without a second thought, he sat down in a corner booth and turned his whole attention to her. She moved over and began dancing just for him, and now he sat here, in a public place, surrounded by people, as a total stranger masturbated him with her foot.
He fought to keep the effects of her efforts from being too visible on his face, as she increased her pace. He couldn't help but thrust his hips forward to meet her, not caring if anyone saw, not caring if they had him arrested, thinking only of the release that was just moments away. Then, without warning, she stopped, leaving him at the peak of frustration. He looked at her imploringly, ready to beg her to finish him off, ready to pay her to do so, if that's what she wanted. She leaned toward him, and spoke in a soft, musical voice that was, surprisingly, free of accent.
"Would you like to make love to me? Please?"
"Oh God, yes! I'll pay you anything you want, however much. I've got to have your body!"
Her laughter was light, lilting, "You won't need money. I do this for pleasure, not some worthless coins." She stood up and took his hand. At first, he was reluctant to follow her; he did not have a small penis, and he knew that it would be very obvious if he stood up. She seemed to sense his thoughts, "Don't worry, no one will notice. And if they do, well, this is San Francisco, after all. Besides," she said, as he stood up, "you should be proud to be so well-endowed."
"My...my wife...says that I'm too big. That I hurt her. She...she hasn't....let me, you know, put it inside her for a long time. She just lets me rub it against her...pussy."
"Some women," she whispered into his ear, "do not know when they have been blessed. Rest assured, I know how to make use of such a remarkable manhood." Her hand caressed the front of his trousers, then slowly, sensuously, lowered his zipper. His cock sprang into her hand, and she stroked it softly, while pulling his lips to hers. Their lips barely brushed, then she turned, her hand around his throbbing shaft leading him along.
In a moment, he found himself in a private room in back, decorated in turn of the century style. She turned to him, and deftly began to undress him, as her lips played upon each patch of skin as it was revealed. She slowly worked her way down his body, until her tongue played with the hairs around his cock. "Tell me, my love, does your wife do this for you?" His breath was coming in gasps now, "Ellen...never...would...she said it's...disgusting."
"How little does that woman know." She whispered, and then her mouth engulfed the head of his cock. He could control himself no longer, and exploded into the most intense orgasm of his life. He came for what seemed like minutes, as the girl swallowed every drop, as though she was dying of thirst and it was ice water. When it was over, he laid back on the bed and pulled her on top of him.
To his surprise, he was still as hard as he had ever been, still ready for more. He kissed her lips, tasting himself on her tongue. He looked her in the eyes, and asked, "What's your name?"
"Mary, I want to... you know, put my mouth on you, suck you."
"Of course, my love. With me, you may do whatever you wish. I will show you every pleasure there is."
She rolled off him, and, spreading her legs, guided his mouth onto her pussy. The taste of her was intoxicating, and he wanted to savor it, to drink it in as she did him. All too soon, she began thrusting her hips up to meet his tongue. He wanted to make her wait, prolong the delicious torture the way that she did, but this was new to him, and he didn't know just what to do. Then, she reached up, and grabbing her calves, brought them towards her head, bringing her tight, brown butthole to his tongue. Eagerly, like a puppy with a new toy, he dove into her ass, pulling the cheeks apart, and ramming his tongue as deep as possible. Her moans told him to continue, as he alternated his attentions between her tight asshole, and her swollen, erect clit. Soon, he felt her body shuddering, as her orgasm swept through it. Never before had he caused that to happen, and the knowledge that he had just given this girl, this Woman, that kind of pleasure filled him with emotion. He rose to his knees and pulled her body closer. She seemed so small, so fragile, lying there, thighs open, awaiting his cock inside her. All the times that Ellen had complained about his size were running through his head; His wife was 5'10", and solidly built, and Mary was at least a foot shorter, and built like a porcelain doll. Once again, she sensed his concerns.
"Please, I need you inside me. I promise you that you won't hurt me."
"Are you sure? You're so small."
"I'm just big enough for you. I swear....on my life."
He needed no further encouragement; pulling her onto his shaft, slowly at first, then harder and faster as his body took control. She rose to meet each thrust, driving him into her to the hilt. Once more, she knew when he had reached the point of no return, pulling off him, and turning over to raise her ass into the air. "Please, fuck me in the ass. I need it so badly."
He bent down, using his tongue to coat her asshole with her own juices, then got up, above her on the bed. He eased the head of his cock into the slick opening of her ass, feeling an enormously tight grip on his cock. He started stroking just the head in and out, not wanting to hurt her, but she would have none of that. She thrust herself backwards, impaling herself on all nine inches of his rigid cock. A scream of pure joy escaped her lips as she came, her spasms again milking cum from his shaft. Without a pause, he began thrusting into her pussy from behind, eager for another release, not knowing, not caring how it was possible, just wishing that it could last forever. Again she spoke, answering his unvoiced wish. "It will, my darling, it will."
The police sergeant had finally finished getting the statement of the dancer who had found the body. The Coroner's office had gotten there, and they had the body out of the booth, and onto the gurney. The assistant M.E. came over to the sergeant, carrying the stiff's wallet. The sergeant looked through it quickly, searching for I.D. He found a Pennsylvania driver's license, under the name of Jacob Kettner, and a card listing an Ellen Kettner as next of kin. They'd wait until they got the corpse down to the morgue to do a more thorough search. "Well doc, what killed him?"
"I'm sure that it will be a heart attack. Just got overstimulated, I'm afraid. The front of his trousers was soaked."
"You mean he came hisself to death?"
"Probably had never seen anything like this down on the farm. All in all, not a bad way to go, considering."
The sergeant moved off, just shaking his head. Now, he really had seen everything, he told himself. Wait 'til he could tell this to the guys at the stationhouse. He asked the bartender who had been dancing for Elmer Cornpone, but before the guy could answer, an old drunk at the bar spoke up, "Only one dancer for tha' guy, Ossifer. Chinese Mary."
"You shut your fuckin' hole, Tony, or I'll bounce your ass outta here!" His comments had clearly angered the bartender, which aroused the sergeant's curiosity. "Who th' fuck is 'Chinese Mary'?"
"She's nobody, sergeant, at least, not anymore. She's a bar legend, okay? Around the turn of the century, this place was a whorehouse, and Chinese Mary was one of the girls. One night, the place burned down, and Mary was killed. So now, she supposedly haunts this place, and, every so often, gets lonely. When she does, she picks someone to dance for, and they die, so that they can keep her company. It's just a legend, sergeant, just an old legend."
In a store room in back, that once, long ago, had been the bedroom of a beautiful, delicate girl called 'Chinese Mary', two spirits that could only see the beauty that had been, held each other close. He whispered love to her, promising never to leave her.
But she knew that only she was tied here forever, and that soon, he too would fade, and once again, she'd be alone. But she would love him while he was hers, and not think of what was to come. So she reached down, knowing that he would be hard and ready, and, with ghostly tears in her eyes, guided him gently inside her.
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