A Summer in the Flesh Ch. 12-13

Charlie pulled me down into his lap. I felt his enormous penis pulse hot and angry against my butt. He reached around and grabbed my breasts. I flexed my cheeks, squeezing his penis.

“Oh,” he said. I bounced. I wiggled. I pushed down on him like I was settling my butt into the sand. I stood up, turned around, and straddled him again. I let the head of his dick nuzzle my pubic hair. I pushed myself up and down, tickling him. Then I held myself up so that the tip of his dick touched my now hot slit ever so lightly. I sat back down, this time on his thighs, and I took his penis in my hand and caressed it. Charlie smiled at me. The song ended.

“Wow, Annie.”

I stood up and grabbed my panties. I pulled them on, and then I stood in front of Charlie and held out my hand, palm up. He looked at me quizzically as he stuffed his boner back in his pants.

“Tip,” I said, and I rubbed my fingers with my thumb. He laughed.

“Okay.” He pulled out his wallet and retrieved a ten-dollar bill.

“Oh, c’mon!” I chided, and I tried to be all business, but I had to smile.

“Okay,” Charlie said, and he gave me another ten.

I put on my baby doll and took my robe and walked away. I shook my head and laughed.

Believe it or not time: over the next hour and a half, I made $135 doing lap dances (including tips). The strange thing is, I thought it was out of the question going in, but by the time I had danced with Ted and lap danced for Charlie, I liked the idea. I was having FUN.

Much to my surprise, the guys were great. I danced for Ted twice. He was sweat about it. Others cracked jokes. Most were pretty casual about it. The “no creep” rule seemed to work. I felt sexy and hot, and I liked teasing the guys and thinking of them masturbating as they fantasized about me in the days to come.

I put most the money in my jeans in the locker. I kept a few tens in the pocket of my robe. I decided I was through with my lap-dance experiment. I sat back down at our table and ordered a beer. Charlie and Mike were there.

“Hey, hey, if it isn’t our prodigal girl. Having fun?” Charlie was teasing me.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“Have you made as much money as we’ve lost?” Mike asked dejectedly.

“I hope so.”

“We’re all lap-danced-out,” Charlie offered.

“Which is another way of saying we are out of cash,” Mike chimed in.

“You want a loan?” I felt generous.

“No thanks,” they said in unison.

The waitress brought my beer. It was ice cold and tasted great. Mike excused himself saying he had been dying to see a dance by a woman taking one of the platforms. Charlie said he’d be right back and went to the bathroom. I was alone at the table. I looked around for Amy or Tom, but didn’t see either of them. I sipped my beer and took in the scene.

After a while of looking, I spotted her, the older woman in the black cocktail dress. Our eyes met again. She came over to the table. I was nervous.

“Hello. May I join you for a moment?” Her voice was deeper than I expected, but very feminine. I nodded and she sat down. “May I buy you a drink?”

“I just got this one.” I took a sip of my beer.

“It’s almost gone. Here,” she motioned to a waitress going by. “Two double vodkas on the rocks please. Stoly.” The waitress looked at me to confirm the order.

“Yes, that sounds good.” I was intrigued.

She gave the waitress a few bills and told her she could keep the change.

“You’re very pretty.” She looked at me as if she expected a response.

“Thank you.”

“My husband thinks you are beautiful.” She leaned towards me as if she had a secret to share. “He says you remind him of me when I was young.”

She pointed to a man seated at the end of the long bar. He nodded at us. He had short brown hair that was combed back with gel, gray at the temples, and a shock of gray at the hairline above his forehead. Like her, he looked out of place, but he wasn’t overdressed. He had on an oxford short sleeve shirt and jeans. He was in good shape for his age. He looked out of place because he looked like a corporate executive on retreat.

She took out a cigarette and lit it. Our drinks arrived. I looked back into her green eyes and waited.

“My husband and I have a very open relationship. I like to think of it as my job to see that he is happy. I would like to make you a proposition.”

I took a sip of the vodka. It chilled my tongue. “I am not a prostitute.”

“I am certain that you are not. I just want you to dance for him – for us, really. Somewhere quiet, away from the crowd.” She looked at me again as if she expected a response. I looked back at her husband. He was watching us. I didn’t know what to say.

“I will pay you $100 for twenty minutes of your time,” she said and it startled me.

“Just to dance?” I asked.

“Yes, like you did for your friend, the handsomely-endowed young man.” She winked at me.

“You mean him?” Charlie came back to the table. “Charlie, I’d introduce you, but…”

“Victoria. It is a pleasure to meet you Charlie.” Victoria held out her hand and Charlie took it gingerly.

“Hi.” Charlie was bemused. I moved over so he could sit down.

“I want it to be a gift from me.” Victoria took a long drag on her cigarette. “I won’t keep you any longer. What is your name, dear?”

“Annie.”

“Well, Annie, I hope you will come see us.”

She left the table and rejoined her husband.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. Nothing.”

“She’s a looker for an older gal.”

“Yes, she is.”

Amy came to the table. She was excited . “Annie, Annie, come with me.” As soon as she got to the table, she started walking away, tipping her head to indicate I should follow. “You’ll love this.”

“What?”

Charlie got up anticipating I would follow Amy. He shrugged his shoulders. Amy took my hand and I followed her. She led me into the side room with the platform. About thirty touristy looking women were mingling by the stage like they had just decided to have a convention, and they were all atwitter.

We stopped and Amy leaned up against a back wall. “You’ve got to see this.”

“What is it?” I half expected Wayne Newton to take the stage.

“It’s the revue I told you about. Just watch.”

The music started. “YMCA” by the Village People. The women started to cheer. An unmarked door against the far wall swung open and I could see the heads of two men stride into the room. The first was an olive-skinned man with a square jaw and long, flowing, black-brown hair. His forehead was high and his neck was thick and sinewy. He was breathtaking.

“Good lord,” I said to Amy, “he looks like he just jumped of the cover of a romance novel.”

“He’s dreamy, isn’t he?” Amy said only half-facetiously.

They marched towards the stage. The olive-skinned man stopped and grabbed one of the secretaries and spun her around into his arms. He kissed her neck and she went limp. I suspected she was faking, but it was hard to say. I laughed with Amy.

The second man passed them by. He was fair-skinned and bigger and bulkier than the darker one. He looked like a bodybuilder. His blond hair was buzz cut to a flat top. He had on dark Ray Ban sunglasses. He was the first to take the stage. He was immense. He was barefoot in a skin-tight, black T-shirt and shiny, black leather pants with a silver studded belt. His arms were so think they looked like legs and they strained against the thin cloth of his shirt. His chest was broad and flexed as he moved. His hips were narrow, and his thighs were athletic.

“His stage name is Apollo,” Amy yelled above the music. “The other one is Dare.”

“I thought I hadn’t heard her. “Dare?”

“Yes, Dare, as in ‘I DARE you!’” Amy thought that was funny.

Dare then took the stage. He was wearing a white vest made of ribbed cotton and mid-calf beach pants with a drawstring at the waist. He was also barefoot. “I’d spend a day on the beach with him,” I said to Amy.

“I bet that could be arranged.”

We sat down at a table near the wall. The scene was electric. I found it momentarily unfathomable that these two studs were about to take off their clothes. I was oddly nervous. Apparently I was also capable of being atwitter.

“These women are crazy, aren’t they?” Amy said over the din. Women were squealing like little girls on a roller coaster. They were pushing against each other to get closer to the stage. It would have frightened me, I thought, if I had been on stage, but the guys seemed to love it.

Apollo was kneeling in front of a woman who was running her hands over his abdomen and chest. Dare pulled of his vest. His skin was the color of honey, and it seemed to have been poured over his rippling muscles. His beach pants hung low on his hips and his stomach muscles looked like they were cascading down the front of him. His oblique muscles were pronounced, like little handles that I could hang on to (you know, in my imagination). He put his hands behind his hips swiveled his hips around slowly, teasingly. He took my breath away. Shouts filled the room.

“Yeah, baby!” “Come on, sugar!” “Shake it!”

There was some kind of feminine version of howling going on that I would have found extremely annoying in a different context. The men took turns working the crowd at the stage. Apollo literally ripped his shirt off. The power his muscles exuded was awe-inspiring. He looked strong enough to throw me ten feet in the air. He flexed more than he danced, but that was okay by me.

By the end of the song, dollar bills were covering the floor. A woman gathered them up between songs. The two of them kept working. “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC came on, loud and brash. I couldn’t help myself. I started rocking and nodding my head to the music. Amy and I looked at each other, and I realized I had a big, goofy grin on my face. She busted out laughing. The song blared: “I’m working double time on the seduction line….”

“Having fun?” Amy yelled.

“You bet.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“That should be the next song.”

“That will be the next song. It’s their set.”

Apollo jumped down off the stage and danced with a big, fat girl with glasses. I thought she was going to collapse. Dare started tugging at the drawstrings of his pants. I was feeling a little faint myself. Someone whistled incredibly loud. He turned around and slowly revealed his cute, firm little but cheeks, no tan lines. He pulled his pants back up. The crowd roared its disapproval.

They both worked the crowd, and it was pandemonium for a while. I thought they were going to have to call in a bouncer. The song changed. BTO, “You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet.” Dare took the stage, facing away from us. As if on queue, his pants dropped. He started flexing his buttocks muscles, first one cheek, and then the other. It was rather amazing. He was in black thong. When he turned to face our way, I was amazed.

“You will love this!” Amy yelled at me.

The mound of his genitals was gargantuan in the pouch of his thong. It stretched the black latex to its limits. Amy yelled at me again.

“And he’s not even hard yet.”

I was momentarily speechless. Finally, words came forth.

“That’s fucking amazing,” I said earnestly. Not very eloquent, I know, but descriptive.

Half the crowd of women seemed stunned. The other half screamed their appreciation and encouragement. He undulated his hips in a way that made my loins tingle and flutter unfamiliarly. Under the table, my hand was tickling the puffy flesh under my panties.

“This is obscene,” I said to Amy. She burst out laughing again.

“That’s kind of the idea, sweetheart.” Amy scooted her chair close to mine. She put her arm around me and whispered in my ear.

“Wait.” She rubbed my back as we looked on.

Apollo kept making his way through the throng of women. I leaned against Amy and said, “He’s kind of like the organ grinder’s monkey, eh?”

Amy laughed until she had to put her head down on the table. “An organ grinder’s monkey, that’s precious.”

On stage, Dare went from woman to woman, letting them rub his breathtaking bulge. It started to grow. One woman with big hair, obviously drunk and having the time of her life, put what must have been a larger bill on the stage because it caught Dare’s eye. He walked over to her. His thong was pulled away from his body under the strain of his projectile-like penis.

“Here we go.” Amy’s breath was hot against my ear. Her tongue flicked my earlobe. I was now clutching myself.

Dare squatted in front of her. His legs flexed stunningly. He was sat on his heels. He leaned up, and his knees slid down from the edge of the platform and came to rest on the table. He took her hand and placed it in on his bulge. He put his hands on the sides of his thong and, as if pulling tabs, he released the flimsy garment. The woman with big hair threw it in the air. What I saw made me gape.

“Now there is a cock worth crowing about,” Amy said against my ear.

I was so nervous and overcome that I started laughing hysterically. His immensity stuck straight out from him. It was both beautiful and frightening. The woman with the big hair was not deterred. She grabbed hold of it with both hands. I thought if he stood up, she would be left dangling from it like a monkey on limb. He put his hands flat on the stage behind him and arched his body. She let go of him and the thing sprang up in the air.

“How big do you think it is?” I was trying to gauge the size of him. Charlie was substantial, but not AWE-inspiring. Dare was standing now, hands on his hips, allowing us to admire him.

“Eleven inches. That’s what he says. Probably more like ten.”

I guessed that five to six is about average, like Tom. Charlie was close to eight, if I had to guess. I decided I would have to take a ruler to it when we got home.

“I don’t think he’s lying.”

“You’re right. He doesn’t have to.”

As Dare moved about the stage, I felt strangely uninhibited and hyper-sensitized, like I was experiencing a heightened state of awareness. It was an unfamiliar feeling. There was something about watching a healthy, strong man parade around with a full-bore erection that was energizing me, not just sexually, or even sensuously, but spiritually, like an awakening of some sort. It was instinctual and ceremonial. I had to share my observation with Amy.

“I feel like were at some kind of fertility ritual, like African chants are going to break out. We should have spears and shields and drums should be pounding.”

“I know what you mean. It is so primordial and deliciously pagan. That’s why they always try to get this show in early. It really loosens things up. Sometimes too much.”

Dare started dancing with the women around the stage, taking their dollar bills and throwing them behind him. Apollo got back on the stage. Somewhere in his trip through the crowd he had lost his pants. He was also wearing a black thong, but his equipment didn’t seem nearly as impressive. Still, I was intrigued.

There was a bottle of oil near the brass bar at the center of the platform. He rubbed the oil into his hands and started rubbing his body. He pointed to two women at the steps, and they came up on stage.

Her poured dollops of oil into there cupped hands. He set down the bottle and put his hands behind his head, flexing. The women took to rubbing the oil into his body. The women were young and pretty, but definitely tourists. They were obviously friends, and they were giggling nervously as the worked the oil into his chest and stomach.

Areosmith, was playing: “Sweet emotion….” Apollo pulled at the sides of his thong and it fell away. I noticed for the first time that Apollo was absolutely hairless. His smooth, thick penis floated in front of him. He had no tan lines. He was gorgeous. His penis swelled and stiffened in front of him as the women rubbed him with oil. They were on either side of him, standing sideways, and they were working the oil into the front of him with one hand while rubbing his back with the other.

One girl started to stroke him. His body glistened in the colored lights. Women were cheering. I was flush. I was horny. My father had taught me long ago how to whistle like a man, and for some reason I let loose with an ear-splitting whistle. Amy giggled.

“Go for it Annie.”

Apollo stretched his arms straight up in the air, and his muscles seemed to lengthen. The blonde woman kept stroking him. The brunette rubbed his stomach. I thought he was going to spurt for sure. Hell, I thought maybe I was going to spurt something. He didn’t. He led the women off the stage. Dare walked by in front of us.

“Hey, Amy.”

“Looking good, David.”

I assumed that was his real name.

He winked at the two of us and gave his giant wand a tug. “I’m saving myself just for you, beautiful.” Did he say that to me or Amy? I think I imagined the misdirection.

A woman goosed him, and he made a silly face, mocking shock. He smiled and made his way back on stage.

The two of them stood at opposite edges of the platform, gyrating and thrusting their hips, their stone-hard cocks cutting swaths in the air, stirring the hormones of the room. It was quite the scene.

“Do you like this?” Amy whispered in my ear. I felt both exhausted and over-stimulated, and Amy was exacerbating my condition by petting me and breathing in my ear.

The women were transfixed on the stage, with all-too-eager smiles on their faces.

“All those horny women:” Amy continued, “rile ‘em up a little, and they’ll turn into dick-loving fuck sluts too.”

What did she mean? Like us?

“Fuck sluts might be an overstatement.” I offered. “I think they’re just a little juiced. I know I am felling a little juiced.” I smiled at Amy and mockingly wiped my brow. “Whew!”

The song ended and the lights went down on the platform. The women applauded zealously. I wondered what the rest of the night held in store for me.