Camilla Ch. 078

"Do you do lap dances?" he asked as he got out his wallet to pay her.

"Mm-hmm," she said, still holding her buttocks open, since he was still ogling her asshole. "Let's go into a private room." She took his hand with her right and put it on her ass, his fingers touching her asshole; her left hand still held her left buttock open, so his fingers could still have access to her anal wrinkles. With her free hand, she put the money in her purse; then she slipped her feet into her high heels. "Can you carry my clothes for me, please?"

"Sure," he said, picking up her T-shirt and shorts with his free hand. She picked up her purse and they went into a private room. He sat on a couch, and she sat on his lap, facing him. He never took his fingers away from her asshole, for she allowed them to stay there.

The next song began, and she was grinding on his cock as his fingers gently stroked her puckered anal lips. She sighed with pleasure at his incredibly sensitive touch. This was the best anal masturbation she'd ever experienced!

He had been worried that she'd find his anal fetish perverse and annoying, but he was thrilled to note how indulgent she was being. Though he no doubt appreciated every inch of her beautiful body, often fingering her surprisingly hard clitoris and fondling her breasts, he always found the dirtiest part of a beautiful woman's body the most fascinating. To worship where a goddess's shit came out was to worship the rest of her beauty all the more.

Towards the end of the song, she had her back to him, sitting on his lap, but leaning forward so her buttocks were facing upward. He spread them open to see her anus, which was black and slightly faecal-smelling. He gently stroked her asshole and she looked back at him, seeing him adore the object of his fetish. The song ended.

"Can I have another lap dance?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," she said, then turned around and sat on his lap, facing him. He fingered her asshole as she resumed grinding. Again, his sensitive fingers on her anal lips were driving her wild. She got up and licked the inside of his ear as he fingered both her asshole and soaking wet pussy. "I'm...gonna come."

"You're shitting me! Really?"

"Yeah. Wanna eat it?"

"Do I ever!" he said, bringing his head down to her pussy and opening wide. He was tickling her clitoris with the finger of one hand and rubbing the index finger of his other against her G-spot.

"Touch...my poo-poo hole...again," she sighed.

"OK. Gladly." He resumed fingering her asshole with the same sensitive, soft strokes.

"Oh! Oh! Ah!" She screamed in whistle register, gushing in his wide-open mouth. He caught most of her come, though some dribbled down his chin.

"That...was amazing," he panted. The song ended.

"Now I gotta go pee-pee," she said. She took him by the hand and led him over to the toilet.

"That's amazing," he said as he looked around the room. "There are toilets and even shower stalls in the private rooms. And now I get to watch you pee."

She giggled and sat on the toilet. Her back went straight up, and her legs were wide open so he could see. She moaned softly as her pee began pouring out from between her legs and into the toilet water. He looked down and smiled as he watched the beautiful sight, and she looked up at him with the innocent eyes of a child. Her total lack of inhibition or embarrassment was as delightful to him as it was astonishing. She squirted out her last few drops of pee, and then reached for the toilet paper.

He quickly squatted down. "Please, let me," he said, tearing off some TP and reaching down between her legs.

"Oh, thank you," she said as she felt his gentle hand guide the toilet paper in thorough wipes along her vulva, from her perineum to her clitoris. He dropped the toilet paper in the water, and she stood up, her muff now an inch from his face. "But now I'm all stinky."

"I don't think so," he said, greedily sniffing away at her urine-smelling bush.

"You like it?" she asked, pretending naively not to understand his fetishes.

"Oh, yeah," he said, sniffing his fingers for the faecal smell they received from her asshole. "As I like the smell of your pretty anus." He, still squatting, put his hands on her ass and fingered her asshole again.

"You do?" she asked in her ditzy voice, completely allowing him to get a free feel-up. "But it's so icky-smelling down there."

"Not if the smells come from you, they don't." He continued fingering, even daring to slide a finger a half-inch inside her asshole.

"Oh, Patrick, you're so sweet to me," she said, taking his head in her hands and bringing it against her pelvis; his face felt her pubic hair tickling his nose and mouth. He gluttonously sniffed at the urinary smell.

"Let me clean you," he said, gesturing to the shower.

"OK, thanks again," she said. He got up and they went over to the shower stall. She turned on the water, and he lathered up his hands with the liquid soap. He thoroughly cleaned her pussy and asshole, putting his fingers deep inside and cleaning every vaginal and rectal wall. Again, he was amazed at how much she was allowing him to touch.

After he took a towel and dried her off, they went back to the couch. He took out his wallet and paid for the lap dances. "I don't have much money left," he said.

As he looked through his remaining money in his wallet, she reached over and put her fingers on his crotch, gently stroking and tickling his penis to keep it hard.

"I'm going on stage next," she said. "Come watch me at pervert's row; you can see me bare-naked for free, and I'll let you see everything up close."

"OK," he said, and they left the private room.

She went over to talk to the DJ about what songs to play during her floorshow, while Patrick walked over to sit at the tip rail. Camilla put on some light green panties, then put on her T-shirt, jean shorts, and high heels. After that, she went up on the stage, grinning down at Patrick.

"OK, everybody, let's give a big hand for this very sexy young lady," the DJ announced. "Here's Camilla!" Everybody cheered as she started moving on the stage.

Her first song was 'Material Girl', by Madonna. When the male back-up singers were singing 'living in a material world' to Madonna's 'material-al', Camilla took off her T-shirt with a gleeful wiggle of her tits. As the song was coming to an end, her jean shorts dropped to her feet.

Her second song was 'Sabotage', by the Beastie Boys. During the moment with the distorted solo bass, she started pulling down her panties, and they fell to her feet at the ensuing yell of "Whoa!" from the rappers. At the end of the song, she took off her shoes.

Now naked, Camilla crawled around the stage during her third song, 'Baby's Comin' Back', by the Eurythmics. She crawled up to Patrick and wrapped her breasts around his face. She pulled back and giggled at the sight of the smile on his face. He motioned with a twirling of his finger to have her turn around so he could see her from behind: knowing exactly what he wanted to see, she turned around and pointed her ass at his face, gloriously displaying her black asshole and pink pussy to his agape eyes and salivating mouth. She looked back at him with pursed lips and eyes that asked him, 'Does my body please you?'

After that, she got up and did some simple ballet moves she'd learned as a child: pirouettes and plies. The song ended, and she got off the stage, taking only her purse. She went with him to a table for more table dances, since that was all he could afford at the time.

"Sorry I can't pay out more to you," he said. "I'm a banker, and I'm loaded; but I didn't bring much pocket money tonight."

"That's OK," she said.

"So, you can dance, eh?" he asked.

"Oh, just a little," she said, giggling. "A lesson here, a lesson there. What do you do in your free time, Patrick?"

"Oh, sleeping on Saturday, and Mass on Sunday."

"You're Catholic?"

"Yep. A lot of my clients and colleagues in First Canadian Place are, too."

"I'm Catholic, too. But I don't really believe in it anymore."

"Why not?"

"I hate all their rules; the idea of doing everything the Pope and the clergy tell us to do. Restricting our freedoms. Why do we let these men tell us what God wants us to do?"

"Well, that's all true, but Christian faith also gives us peace."

Remembering her incestuous urges toward Agape, she said, "Christianity never gave me any peace: just guilt, and I tried to follow the faith--really."

Though he didn't agree with her, he--not knowing Camilla was a university student--was impressed to see a spark of intelligence in a stripper, the kind of girl he assumed didn't have much of that. This girl was someone who questioned cultural assumptions: there weren't very many people like that in the world.

A new song began, and she started her hip-swaying again. Remembering his filthy fetish, she bent over and pointed out her behind so he could clearly see her asshole. "Is there enough light here?" she asked. "Can you see OK?"

"Very well," he said, ogling away at the black wrinkles.

"Do you like it?"

"Oh, yeah: what a beautiful, black anus you have."

"It's black?" she asked in shock.

"Yeah, but it's pretty. Don't worry."

"Well, as long as it pleases you." Now she'd have to remember to use Nigrovum to change her asshole back to its original brown when necessary. She sat on his lap with her back to him and rubbed on his erection, while allowing him to put his hands on her legs and arms.

After the song was over, he paid her. "OK, I gotta go," he said.

"You do?" she asked, with disappointed eyes.

"Yeah, I've got to get back home now. Lots of things to do there. Sorry." He got up and walked towards the front door, but she, still naked, followed him. "You're coming outside without any clothes on?"

"Mm-hmm," she said in all insouciance as they walked outside.

"You're really uninhibited, aren't you?"

"I don't mind. People see me bare-naked all the time; I'm more than used to it. Besides, if people see me out here, it's good for business."

"I see," he said.

"Wanna touch me some more?"

"Yes, I do." He put his hands on her breasts and fondled them for a few seconds, her looking up at him with absolute permissiveness in her eyes. Then he reached down and put one hand between her legs to feel her cunt, while his other hand reached around to touch her ass. She opened her buttocks so he could have access to her asshole.

People walking by watched with admiration at what a total slut she was being. In fact, Rose and Serena saw her, and couldn't make up their minds to be contemptuous of her 'servitude to patriarchy', as they saw it, or simply to be turned on. They'd make a mental note to stop by Club Ritz some time soon.

Now Patrick's fingers were deep inside her rectum and pussy, and she reacted to his feeling only with moans and sighs. She stroked the bulge in his pants, and could feel another orgasm approaching.

"You sure...you don't...want me...to come home...with you?" she asked in squeals. "Oh!"

"I want to, but I can't," he said. "I'm afraid I have--well, responsibilities.

"Oh, OK. Ah!" She came on the sidewalk between her feet.

He pulled his fingers out of her holes. "OK, that's the best I can do for you for now. Gotta go. Sorry. Bye."

"Bye," she said, waving at him as he walked away and pretending she had no idea there was anything wrong with public indecency. Actually, the only thing she was worried about was a patrol car going by. One never came, so she simply went back inside the strip joint, where a number of men who'd seen her on the street were waiting for lap-dances. None of those men were her type, though. All disappointed, she thought, Well, holding off my lust for Daddy just got a lot harder.

****************

On Saturday night, she set up selective psychic barriers again, then fell asleep hoping for the incubi of Larre, Miles, Davis, or best of all, Grisham to come and satisfy her increasing starvation for cock. Instead, she dreamed of being in that basement dining room again, with the succubi of Calina, Li-ping, and Akemi.

Camilla was licking Li-ping's pussy, Calina was sucking Camilla's tits, and Akemi was licking her pussy. Beat this, feminist bitches, Camilla thought; I'm the duchess of dykes.

Ms. Callahan watched from outside the barriers, frowning from her inability to get in and have Camilla again. I'm a feminist who'll have you soon enough, bitch, she thought.

The masked incubi, also unable to get inside and gang-bang Camilla, nonetheless were blocking the incubi Camilla was hoping would satisfy her. They laughed when she sprinkled out a comparatively tepid orgasm, knowing her mounting sexual frustration would push her to rush into sex with Agape.

****************

On Sunday night, Agape sat on his chair in the living room, drinking as usual. As he listened to REM's 'Losing My Religion', he contemplated his annoyance at Camilla's recent unwillingness to accompany him to church.

Well, he thought; I won't let her party with me anymore, as my suspicious eyes have implied to her. Perhaps I'll make a deal with her: if she comes to church with me again, I'll show a willingness to smoke pot with her again.

He'd fixed himself a new drink and was sipping it; then he got up to go to the bathroom. Camilla, writhing in sexual frustration, couldn't hold off any longer: she just had to fuck her father again!

She went down from her bedroom into the living room, knowing he'd just gone to the bathroom. She put a whole pill of ecstasy in his drink and stirred it with her finger. The pill was taking too long to mix in evenly with the drink, so she used Nigrovum to speed up the mixing. Just when it had been thoroughly mixed, she heard her father coming back to the living room. She quickly pulled her finger out of his glass and started moving away from the area, but he'd already seen her there.

"What were you just doing?" he asked her in slurs.

"Oh, nothing, Daddy," she said.

"Did you just tamper with my drink?"

"Oh, come on. Of course not. Sit down and enjoy your drink. I'll get a can of beer and join you. We can smoke some grass if you like."

"I don't think so," he said, sitting down and bringing the glass to his lips. "Things have been getting weird with our parties."

"Oh, Daddy, you've just been..."

"Dreaming, I know." he said with obvious skepticism. "Look, if you come to church with me next Sunday, I'll smoke grass with you again. Deal?"

"Deal," she said excitedly. "I'll just have a beer and--"

"Not tonight," he said. "Only when you come to church with me again."

"OK," she said, then left the room.

As he continued drinking for the next thirty minutes, she planned what she would do to fuck him without getting caught. She knew he was on to her, and it wasn't going to be easy to keep fooling him.

After a half hour had gone by, the ecstasy began to take effect, and she knew he would be too stoned to repel her mind controlling psychic powers. She used Nigrovum to make him fall asleep, then she got those old towels and laid them on the living room floor. She gently took him by the arms, pulling him off his chair and laying him on the towels. She then pulled down his pants and underwear and got on top of him in the cowgirl position. She visualized his cock being engorged and hard: within seconds, her sleeping father had a full erection.

"Oh, finally," she whispered, salivating at the first cock she'd sucked since Dr. Lawson, the first she'd had in her pussy since fucking Ted. "So many an inch of raw mutton: this is gonna feel so good."

Then she did her mind control on him, making wake up to a 'dream' of being in the dim mansion again, and seeing Carrie's face on her body.

"Carrie with a teen's body again, eh?" he said, still somewhat skeptical.

"Yes, of course," Camilla said. Reminding him of when he'd made love with Carrie at her home, and of how she'd looked like 'she' did now (because of Camilla's psychic manipulations), she then said, "I'm the same Carrie you made love with at my home. Let's do it again."

"Well, OK," he said.

Camilla felt his huge cock sliding inside her dripping wet pussy; she was sighing and squealing with the pleasure of a famished man who's had his first meal in a week. As soon as she felt her father's cock rub against her G-spot, she came, screaming in whistle-register. She felt it go in further, and when it was all the way in, poking against her A-spot, she came a second time. Another scream came out of her wide-open mouth.

Carrie doesn't scream like that; well, sometimes she does, apparently, he thought, remembering those times on Carrie's bed when Camilla had altered their lovemaking experience, though he knew nothing about them being alterations.

As Camilla continued to thrill to the sensation of her father's cock sliding in and out of her vibrating pussy, she psychically could sense his diminishing suspicions, and thus relaxed her worries, focusing instead on her indescribable pleasure. After a third orgasm, she decided it was time for some anal. She got up slowly, feeling his erection slip out of her quivering pussy and sighing with delight at the feeling.

Then she scooped up her come from the towels and smeared it inside her rectum, thoroughly soaking every wall. After that, she sat on his cock, slowly and carefully feeding it in her asshole. When it got all the way in, she was groaning and squealing with pleasure at how huge it felt in her ass.

You don't know what fulfilling is until you've felt a cock inside your pussy or ass, she thought as her father's cock slid in and out of her rectum; especially when it's your father's cock!

After she'd had her fill of anal probing, she got up and let his cock slide out of her asshole. Then she turned around and went down on him, taking his manhood all the way in her mouth and deep-throating him. She moaned with pleasure as his cock went half-way out and all the way in again. She played with his balls and tightly wrapped her wet lips around his shaft.

Again, Agape was unsure of what to make of what he was experiencing. This was an incredible blow job, but it was so unlike Carrie. Still, she had performed similar sexual feats recently. He remembered there were times when he seemed to have woken up from these dreams, and found himself back in his living room. He tried to concentrate on waking up, but the amazing head he was getting from 'Carrie' was distracting, to put it mildly.

Finally, he blew his load, and Camilla swallowed it all. Now that he'd had release, he could focus on seeing if he could wake up. After regaining his breath, he used all his willpower to wake up. Sure enough, he found himself once again in his living room. Then he looked down at his belly, and saw Camilla's lips around his softening cock! She pulled up with a shock, not expecting this to happen at all.

"What the hell? Oh, my God, Camilla!" he said, verging on tears.

She aggressively focused her psychic powers to put him back to sleep, but he used the same powers to resist her. Realizing that putting him back to sleep was no longer going to be a straightforward magic trick, she closed her eyes and visualized her powers, as well as his, as two wrestlers, struggling to overpower the other. She imagined her 'wrestler' as bigger and stronger than 'his', and soon was able to 'pin' him. When this happened, she was able to put him back to sleep again. As he slept, she frantically scrambled to put away the come-soaked towels; then she pulled up his pants and sat him in his chair again. Soon after, he woke up of his own accord.

"Camilla," he said in horror. "I wasn't dreaming."