Black Stripper Seduction Ch. 01byharukifan©
The DJ announced her name as "Eden," and she took the stage in a whirl of energy, moving her body effortlessly in time to the thumping beat from the sound system, shimmying and shaking and smiling the whole time, as if she was made for this very moment.
Eden's top came off quickly, as she slid her shoulder straps off and pulled the thin fabric down the length of her body, exposing her breasts. She had mocha skin with dark chocolate nipples, erect in the cool air of the club. Her black hair was straightened and long, past her shoulders. She had some thickness through her hips, soft natural breasts, some softness to her belly, and a round, full ass.
I shifted in my seat and reached for my wallet. I could tell immediately that this girl was going to be getting a lot of my money tonight. I glanced over at my wife, who nodded in approval, a lustful gleam in her eye. It's wonderful to be married to a bisexual woman, especially one who shares my taste in women.
Earlier this year, my wife and I started going to strip clubs together, in part to help her explore her bisexuality, and in part, after 10 years of marriage, as a way to spice up our sex life.
We quickly discovered that going to a strip club as a married couple is like jet-fueled foreplay. It's a headfirst dive into a sensual array of glorious nudity, sensations, touches and scents, a journey to a hidden world of writhing, gyrating naked women, dancing for our pleasure, enticing us with their bodies, rubbing themselves against us, showing us everything.
We're not quite strip club "regulars," but every month or two we try to make the trip to one of our favorite clubs. It's become one of the Date Night experiences that I most look forward to. Why bother going out to dinner and a movie, when you can watch and interact with real-life sexy naked women?
One of my hesitations before we started going to strip clubs was that I was afraid it would feel "wrong," somehow. I was afraid I would feel guilty about being there, like I was exploiting the women or taking advantage of them. And I didn't expect that the women at the club would be my type. My wife and I are clean-cut professionals, even rather geeky, and I wasn't sure if we would feel comfortable at a strip club. I had heard a lot of stereotypes about strippers and I was afraid that the strippers would be weird, drugged out, emotionally damaged, or somehow not enjoyable to be around.
But my worries were unfounded. If anything, the opposite proved to be true. I quickly found that I loved talking with the strippers, flirting with them, touching and being touched by them. I loved watching them caress and tease my wife. I loved giving them my money.
Spending money on strippers was some of the best money I'd ever spent, because I always got to go home in a better mood than when I went in. My wife and I would fall into bed together, ablaze with the crackling energy of sex and seduction, still smelling like strippers' body lotion and perfume.
I loved to see them sweat, I loved to see their bodies move under the strobe lights, and I loved feeling their exertions as they rubbed and grinded against me.
In a strange way, I felt like strip clubs were places where I truly belonged. "These are my people," I thought to myself. "This is my community, this is my subculture." I had never been a religious person, but I wondered if the way I felt at a strip club was the way religious people feel when they're in church.
I loved the whole experience of the strip club: the uninhibited sexuality, the female attention, the unique energy in the room -- the focused worshipful appreciation of the female form, combined with an alluring and welcoming vision of femininity.
Some people might think strip clubs were sleazy and morally wrong, but I didn't care. I found the strip clubs to be liberating and honest, more honest in a way than everyday life. A strip club was one of the rare places in the world where I could meet certain emotional needs that were all too often repressed or unfulfilled. You paid the dancers for their time and talents, and it wasn't cheap, but it was a very good value.
My wife and I saw all kinds of strippers during our evenings at the clubs: dancers ranging in age from 19 to mid-30s, and even one 38-year-old dancer who said she had teenage daughters of her own (but you would never guess it from her petite, toned body). We saw blonde white girls, brunettes, redheads, Black girls, Latina girls, Asian girls. Girls with piercings and tattoos, girls with fake breasts, girls who were all natural. Skinny girls, curvy girls, slightly chubby girls -- I loved them all.
I loved the smoothness of their bodies, the effort they made to entertain us, and the way they did their hair and makeup to look pretty for us. I admired the dancers' athletic abilities, their physical strength, and their emotional courage to do this type of demanding work. I found something to appreciate in almost every stripper I saw, but Eden was by far the best I'd ever seen. And I knew it instantly.
Eden had a casual, friendly, emotionally generous spirit about her. She was one of the rare strippers who were not afraid to let some part of her real personality show through. With some strippers, they seem uptight, or their stage routine feels like an act, or they won't let you touch them very much, or it seems like they're just going through the motions.
Eden was different. She was enjoying being there. She seemed authentically interested in the attention of the audience, smiling and talking easily with the men and women sitting by the stage.
I placed two dollar bills on the edge of the stage and waited for Eden to come give us her attention. She crawled over to us and knelt in front of us.
"Good evening, guys," she said. "Come give me a hug!"
I stood up and leaned forward as Eden embraced me, and then placed my hands on her breasts, letting me feel her stiff nipples. I was smitten. Completely. Already.
"You're amazing," I said, already feeling totally uninhibited in my fascination with her. "God, can I give you another hug?"
Eden laughed. "Of course!" We embraced again, our foreheads touching. "Wow, you're really into me," she said.
Eden moved on to my wife, pressing her breasts against my wife's face in a warm, lingering hug. "We're going to have some fun tonight," said Eden.
The next song started and Eden teasingly stepped out of her G-string, and was now fully nude on stage. I placed two more dollars on tip rail, and Eden sat in front of us and spread her legs, rubbing her clitoris with her fingertips, spreading the folds of her labia to show us how wet she was. I was almost close enough to taste her.
She moved over to my wife.
"Stand up," Eden said. "Customers aren't the only ones who get to have some fun!"
She pulled off my wife's shirt and unfastened her bra in a single deft motion, leaving my wife's breasts exposed to the room full of strangers.
"You have beautiful breasts," Eden said. "Can I kiss them?" My wife was a bit shy, but nodded her head, "Yes."
Eden moved closer and took my wife's nipples in her mouth, sucking and licking them, one at a time. My wife moaned with delight. After Eden finished, she sat down again, with a glazed expression and flushed cheeks.
Usually the dancers were only on stage for 3 songs at a time, and customers are expected to tip the girls $1 per song -- but I found myself pulling out a stack of dollar bills and beckoning Eden over to us again and again.
"We can't get enough of you," I said to her. She laughed. "I'm the best you've ever had, huh? Here, sit down and lean forward -- sit still."
Fully nude, Eden inched herself forward to the edge of the stage and straddled me, then extended her legs forward and squeezed my face between her thighs. She had me pressed so close against her that I could smell the scent of her sex, sweet and inviting. I let my fingertips trace slowly up the backs of her legs, all the way back to her naked ass, cupping her buttocks in both hands as she swayed back and forth.
She finished with me and moved back to my wife. My wife was feeling bolder now.
"Can I kiss you here?" My wife asked, reaching out to touch Eden's nipples.
"Sure, baby," Eden said. "Damn, you're so sexy."
My wife closed her eyes tightly as she took Eden's breasts in her mouth, caressing each one with her tongue, drawing out the pleasure, leaving Eden's nipples aroused and glistening under the lights. Eden was short of breath. "Damn girl," she said. "This is your wife? You're a lucky man."
Eden finished her set and exited the stage. I caught her eye and waved to her, inviting her to come sit with us. "I've got to run to the dressing room for a few minutes," said Eden. "But then I'll come hang out with you." She left, taking the stack of cash she'd earned during her stage set.
I watched her leave, appreciating the view from behind.
"I like this one," I said to my wife.
"I know," my wife said.
"No really, I like her a LOT."
"Hmmmm," my wife said. "Maybe we've found our unicorn?"
I chuckled. "Do you think it would be possible?" I asked.
"It never hurts to try," she said. "Anything is possible."
I looked back toward the dressing room door.
My wife and I had fantasized for a long time about having a threesome with another woman. We had placed ads on adult dating sites, but nothing had come of it -- there were too many married couples chasing too few single bisexual women.
"I REALLY like this girl," I said to my wife. "Let's go for it. What the hell. We've got nothing to lose but a little bit of pride."
And I knew that trying to date a stripper was almost always a fool's errand, even for single guys, let alone 35-year-old married couples. But still, there seemed to be something very special about Eden. I was deeply transfixed by her. I kept glancing toward the dressing room door, hoping to see her emerge.
Finally she did. Eden came over to our table and gave us each a warm hug.
"I loved your set," I said to her.
"Thank you," she said.
"No really, your stage work is fantastic," I said. "You really are one of the best dancers I've seen."
"Aw, you're sweet," she said. "It's fun to see nice-looking couples like you two. What are you doing here tonight? Do you come here a lot?"
"We come here as often as we can afford to," I said. "Let's just say...my wife and I share an interest in women."
Eden smiled. "Damn, you really are a lucky man," she said.
"What about you?" my wife asked Eden. "This is the first time we've seen you at this club, are you new here?"
"I've been dancing for awhile, but this is my first night working here," she said. "I'm just visiting this city for the weekend. In fact, I just bought these shoes tonight because I left my dancing heels at home -- I've been tripping over these heels all night! I drove over here with one of my dancer friends from my regular club -- she's Honey, the blonde on the second stage. Business has been slow there lately, so we thought we'd check out some clubs here instead."
We gazed over at Eden's friend Honey, who was fully nude and inverted, sliding slowly down the pole headfirst.
An idea started to develop in my mind: Eden was visiting from out of town. That meant she wasn't beholden to this club for her full-time income and wouldn't be bound by any rules against contacting customers outside the club. She drove here from out of town with her dancer friend, so that meant she didn't have a boyfriend waiting to pick her up after work. That meant she was probably staying at a hotel.
"Don't get your hopes up," I thought to myself. "And don't try too hard."
We talked further with Eden and learned that she was 21 years old and was a single mom with a 2-year-old daughter. The girl's father was no longer in the picture, and her latest boyfriend had recently broken up with her after he moved to California, where he worked as a professional football player.
"He's a pro athlete, and all the girls in California are Barbie dolls," Eden said with a shrug, as if she could never compete with those other women.
"Well, if your old boyfriend didn't appreciate you enough, he's short-sighted, because you're gorgeous," I said.
"You are too sweet," she said, laughing. "I like you. You really have a way with words."
"What I lack in muscles, I make up for with sweetness and enthusiasm," I said. Eden laughed again.
"I like you too," I said to her. "You're just so...nice. You're open. A lot of girls at the club, they have a front they put up. I feel like you're being real. You're just out here, being you. And I think it's the girls who are most emotionally generous, who really share something of themselves, that make the most money."
"Thanks," Eden said. "Yeah, I see it all the time, some girls come out with this pouty face, some girls look sullen, some girls have a bad day and they bring it on stage with them. I just try to have a good time, and let everybody else have a good time too."
While we talked, I let my hand rest on Eden's leg, caressing her thigh. I enjoyed being in the company of this woman, along with my wife. My wife was watching the other dancer on stage, but now and then she glanced over at Eden and me with a sly look, smiling. She raised her eyebrow at me, as if to say, "Making progress?"
I gave my wife a quick thumbs-up sign. Eden noticed. "What's going on?" she asked, slightly coy. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Just enjoying the show," I said, flirtatiously.
"So what do you do?" Eden asked.
"I'm an engineer," I said. "I'm really kind of a nerd. Does that, uh...do you go for nerdy guys? Especially nerdy white guys, right?"
Eden smiled and laughed again. "I like all kinds of guys," she said. "It depends on what the guys are looking for and what kind of experience they can offer me."
I had decided from the beginning of this conversation that I was going to be honest with Eden -- I didn't know how else to be. I had never picked up a stripper before, but all of my other success with women had been based on being myself and being honest.
I had always been kind of a nerdy, shy guy during my younger years, and back when I was Eden's age I never would have taken a chance on talking to a woman like her. But now that I was in my mid-30s I felt like I was finally coming into my own. I had matured into a good-looking man.
I still had a full head of hair, with just a few flecks of grey. I made a good living, I dressed well, and I carried myself with a level of confidence and sophistication that I didn't have back when I was in my early 20s. Now that I was a grown man, I knew what I had to offer to a woman and I wasn't afraid to state my case.
The music in the club was getting louder, so Eden and I pushed our chairs closer together and leaned forward to continue the conversation, our heads almost touching. I rested my hand against Eden's lower back, caressing her there, my fingers touching her soft skin through the thin fabric of her outfit.
"I want to get a dance with you," I said. "A private dance. Can my wife come with me?"
"I'm sorry, the club doesn't allow couples' dances -- you'd both have to pay the fee," said Eden.
I checked my wallet. I only had enough cash for one $25 dance. But I needed to get Eden alone. I asked my wife, "Can I go do a dance with Eden, all by myself?"
My wife said, "Sure. You seem to need the attention more than I do right now."
"Okay," I said to Eden. "Are you ready?"
"Let's do it," she said, and stood up, suddenly tripping and falling forward. "Whoah!" she said. I caught her, steadying her and helping her to her feet. "These damn heels," she said. "These shoes are going to kill me."
We were both laughing. I held her hand and stroked her back, drawing her closer to me, cuddling her a bit. "I don't want to lose you yet," I said. "We haven't even had our dance."
It was really a very sweet moment. Strange as it sounds, this time spent with Eden felt almost like a first date.
We made our way to the Private Dance room, where Eden would give me an up close and personal experience for the duration of a single song. I felt a rush of anticipation. I wanted to get even closer to her than I had gotten at the stage. I wanted to experience so much more of her -- not just her body, but her spirit, her personality, I wanted to learn more about the type of woman she was and what moved her sexually.
We got to the Private Dance area. Eden gestured toward a couch. "Sit here," she said, her voice quieter now. We were alone in this darkened room. Eden peeled off her top and bottoms, wearing only a G-string. She straddled my lap and ran her hands over my shoulders and chest. I let my hands explore the fronts of her legs, her belly, her breasts, everywhere but that tiny triangle of fabric between her legs. The song started and she began to sway her hips back and forth to the rhythm, squeezing me with her muscular thighs.
"Can I kiss you here?" I asked, touching her nipples. She exhaled excitedly, and nodded, "Yes." I took her nipple in my mouth, gently sucking and licking her, feeling her nipple getting harder against my tongue.
"Damn, you're married huh?" she said. She started grinding harder against my lap, feeling my erection pressing against her G-string. "You've got a nice-sized cock, too."
"My wife says it's as big around as her wrist," I said. Eden moaned a bit when I said this -- closing her eyes and pressing more intently against my manhood. Either she was a really good actress, or I seemed to be getting through to her.
Dancing is hard work, and Eden was sweating, her skin a bit slick with perspiration. With each bucking sway of her hips, Eden's breasts brushed against my face, as her belly touched my chest.
Suddenly, breathily, Eden whispered to me, "I'd fuck the shit out of you."
"You can," I said. I looked her in the eyes, and we pressed our foreheads together again. "My wife and I have a non-traditional marriage. And we've been looking for a woman like you."
Eden closed her eyes tight, smiling, as if she was thinking hard about what I just said. I leaned in closer and whispered in her ear. "Can I kiss you? Not on the mouth, not yet...just...here?" And I touched her ear, tracing my finger delicately along her cheek and neck.
Again, Eden nodded "Yes." She stopped moving, and was sitting still on my lap, pressing against my hard cock.
I leaned forward and gently nibbled on her earlobe and then delivered a series of soft kisses along her face, sliding down to the nape of her neck. I tasted her skin. I could taste the salt of her sweat, smelling the fragrance of her perfume, feeling the dark curtain of her hair against my face, luxuriating in the softness of her, and breathing her in.
"You want to know my favorite way to experience a woman?" I whispered to Eden.
"What?" she said.
"Going down on her," I said, and Eden moaned as if this was the most exciting thing she'd heard in a long time. "God, I want to lick you," I said. "I want to taste you, all of you."
It was true. Unlike many men, I seemed to have never lost my enthusiasm for cunnilingus. My favorite way to be with a woman, almost more than intercourse, was to have my face between her legs.
I loved the intimacy of it. I loved tasting her, feeling her texture with my lips and tongue, hearing her sigh and moan, feeling her writhe and lean into me as the intensity of her pleasure builds. Even after 10 years of marriage, I still got aroused from going down on my wife, and now I was imagining a new level of arousal from being with Eden as well.
Eden let out a little sigh, again, writhing on me even harder now. "Show me your tongue," she said. "I want to see what your tongue can do."