Dime a Dance

Dime A Dance

A short story by jokermon (J.K. Ermon)

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. All people and events in this story are purely imaginary and should not be confused with any real-life people, events, or medical conditions. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, don't read it. If you are not old enough or otherwise forbidden to read this kind of material according to your local laws, don't read it. This story is copyright the author©2009

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Corporal Jack Parmenter staggered off the troop transport at Ellis Island, drunk as a skunk. His ears still rang with the triumphant yells of his fellow soldiers. The word came through just before the New York skyline appeared: Japan had surrendered. Jack's furlough was now permanent.

The transport's Captain, misty-eyed with joy, broke with maritime regulations for the first time in his career and let the booze flow free. They celebrated their way into port. No more need to stay quiet. No more light-and-fucking-noise discipline. No more Nazi U-Boat paranoia. No more bastards you'd never met trying to kill you. Nothing but peace and pussy and the rewards of being a man in uniform at the victorious end of what they were already calling the Second World War.

By the time they docked, the whole ship was as liquored and riotous as a Mississippi casino riverboat.

Being on solid ground again threw Jack off balance. Once he got his land legs, the first thing he did was stand at attention and throw the Statue of Liberty his best parade-ground salute.

"Goddamn, it's great to see you, you big ugly man-faced broad," he slurred reverently, with tears in his eyes.

The next thing he did was lurch off to get laid. It was early evening, and he had a whole night to kill. The buses didn't leave for the demobilization center in North Carolina until the next morning. His winnings from the onboard craps game were burning a hole in his pants, and so was his long-denied need for a woman.

It was a beautiful, warm summer evening in the big city. New York in August was hot, he reflected, but nowhere near as hot as Midway Island. The ubiquitous tall buildings, paved streets, hustling crowds and chipper, sassy New York girls almost made him weep for joy. Over and over, he caught himself standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, taking it all in. After the jungles of the South Pacific, the comforting civilization of it all intoxicated him more than all the cheap hooch he'd drunk getting here. It also gave him a big ole happy hard-on as rigid as blue steel.

He heard music--some brassy swing tune--and a neon sign saying Dime-A-Dance caught his eye. A mysterious stairway led down to an awning-shadowed entrance. He weaved closer, and saw the awning read The Taxi Stand.

It had been too long since he'd danced with a girl. He couldn't resist the temptation.

Inside, the joint was done up in a phony nightclub style, with dim lighting and a 12-piece band up on a low stage. They played a slow, romantic tune, and would play nothing else all night, Jack knew.

The place was packed and noisy. A crowd of slow-dancing couples filled the imitation-marble floor, all of whom danced very close. Once Jack's eyes adjusted to the low light, it was not hard to see all the dry-humping going on. Nobody minded; it was understood that was the point of a taxi dance hall, especially a seedy one like this. There were plenty of men here, but lots of women, too, and they lined the walls waiting for the men to hand them dance tickets, each one costing the advertised 10 cents. The men would then usher them onto the dance floor, where all the groping and dry-humping would begin.

As Jack watched, one couple stopped dancing as the man began jerking and grunting. He had his pelvis pressed tight against his taxi dancer (an attractive blonde in a snug green satin dress that ended in a mass of flounces above her knees) and was clearly ejaculating in his pants. The woman didn't mind; she stood patiently and stroked the back of the man's neck until he wilted to a halt. He passed her a handful of tickets as they walked hand-in-hand off the floor. She smiled at him, deposited the tickets in her clutch, and gave him a perfunctory goodbye kiss on the cheek before he slunk away.

Jack nodded to himself. This was his kind of place.

He did his best to act sober as he purchased his dance tickets at the kiosk by the entrance. Feeling reckless, he handed over two dollars and pocketed twenty tickets. Within two minutes he was handing a ticket to a gorgeous redhead and taking her small, perfect hand in his.

His hard-on hadn't gone down an iota, and no sooner were they on the dance floor then he pressed it into her. She gave him a tolerant, albeit impersonal smile, and pressed back slightly. Her perfume and faint sweaty undertone filled Jack's nostrils. The warmth and physicality of her body and the softness of her breasts all made him want to moan out loud. His hands slid down her back and squeezed two big wonderful handfuls of firm, womanly ass.

"Hey there, watch the hands," she scolded good-naturedly, giving one of his wrists a slap. "You wanna dance cozy, that's fine, but I ain't a loaf of bread, here. You want that kind of action, you should dance with Suzy over there."

She nodded toward a stacked brunette sitting by herself, sipping a tall glass of ginger ale through a straw. The men seemed to be avoiding her. From what Jack could see, she had some great melons up front, and while she was a little thick in the thighs and hips, she certainly wasn't obese. Her wine-red party dress hugged her curves and matched her lipstick. Both set off her ivory complexion and inky-black hair perfectly.

"Sorry," Jack shrugged. "Just got back from the war, you know?" He put his hands back up where they belonged.

Her eyes softened. Jack wondered if it was a brother, father or boyfriend she'd lost over there. "No harm done. But I'm strictly legit, okay?"

"Okay."

They chatted amiably for the remainder of the dance. Jack enjoyed rubbing his erection against her and she commented on his size and stiffness. He really wanted to be holding some tits or ass when he shot off, however, so he refrained from going too far. At the end of the song, when she gave him the obligatory, "your dime's up, your time's up," Jack kissed her hand and escorted her off the floor.

He got himself another drink and made a beeline for Suzy. She looked surprised as he extended her a dance ticket. She looked at it, and then up at him.

"Have you been here before?" she asked. She had big, sapphire-blue eyes, Jack noticed.

"First time."

"Hmmm." Her lips twisted thoughtfully. "Maybe you should go with another girl..."

"Why?" he asked. "You look about my type." And it was true. She was voluptuous and attractive; not any kind of fine-featured classy dame, to be sure, but she was a slice of heaven on a plate for a meat-and-potatoes guy like Jack. His penis danced in his pants at the sight of her.

"I'm kind of...different."

"Different how?"

"Just...different." Her accent wasn't New York. Jack thought he could hear a faint hint of the South in the way her vowels lingered, but he wasn't sure.

"Well," he smiled, and held up a dance ticket, "why don't we have a dance, and I'll decide if you're my kind of different or not?"

The girl hesitated, and then nodded. "Okay mister, but remember, I warned you."

She put out her palm, and Jack placed the dance ticket in it. He held out his arm, and she took it as she got to her feet. She was tiny. Even tottering on her high heels, she still only came up to Jack's nose. It made the projecting roundness of her hips and bosom even more pronounced.

"I'm Jack," he said. A startling wave of adolescent shyness came over him. His feet felt big and clumsy, and he didn't know what to do with his hands.

"Suzy," she answered. To Jack's surprise, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick smacking little kiss on the lips. She smiled up at him.

"Shall we dance, Jack?"

"Yeah," he felt a little dizzy. The kiss, and the renewed thumping of his erection made it hard to think. He grinned foolishly.

Suzy nestled her head under his chin and hugged him close. They swayed together, keeping time with the music.

"You seem like a really nice fella, Jack." An odd thing to say, he thought. His erection was angrier than ever, a regular tent pole poking her midsection.

"I...thanks." Experimentally, he let his hands slide down to the small of her back. He paused, and then moved them a fraction lower.

"Go ahead," she smiled. "I won't scream."

Suzy's buttocks were bigger and firmer and more protuberant than his earlier dancer's. It was a joy to fill his hands with them and squeeze. Jack sighed happily. That's the ticket.

She wasn't wearing a girdle or a slip. He didn't think she was even wearing panties; he certainly couldn't feel any. There was nothing between her soft skin and his hands but a thin layer of silk. He molded her behind in his palms, and felt his heart begin to pound as he thought of what other liberties she might permit.

She chuckled, and snuggled closer.

"That's it...I like that." Her pelvis pushed back actively against his. With a start, Jack realized she was dry-humping him. He nearly jumped when she began fondling his buttocks.

"Oooh, that's nice," she moaned. Her eyes were all dewy when she looked up into his. There was pink in her cheeks. "You're nice and muscley and firm, Jack."

"Thanks." Even to him, his voice sounded choked. His yearning for a woman, for this woman, made him feverish.

She pushed back harder against him, and Jack felt something...different.

There was a hard, warm lump down there, growing bigger and harder by the second, straining through her dress and pressing on his erection. He looked down between them, but couldn't see past the creamy scoops of Suzy's cleavage.

"Suzy? What the hell?"

She laughed. "Told you I was different."

Recognition hit Jack like a poleaxe.

Holy fucking shit. That's a cock!

He froze. He literally couldn't move.

In the seconds that followed, a distant part of Jack's brain watched with a certain dry, detached humor as his emotions careened wildly around each other like a bunch of Keystone Cops from an old silent comedy. They all fought to be at the forefront of his consciousness.

Confusion, Anger and Disbelief finally lost out to Indecision. Jack just didn't know how to react. He couldn't figure if he should break away from her, slap her, holler bloody murder or just quietly disengage. He didn't know whether to 'shit or go blind,' as his old D.I. liked to say back in Basic. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting. He couldn't reconcile the soft, large-breasted female body cuddled up to him with that big, hot hard thing jammed into him below.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he looked at her tiny feminine hand nestled in his big paw. Her fingers were slender and delicate. He could feel the spread of her hip under his other hand. There was no way she could be a man. No way. And yet...Jack felt faint.

That can't be real...have I lost my fucking mind? Shell shock, maybe? Delayed reaction?

"Now don't you pass out on me, big boy," Suzy drawled. Her luscious contralto tugged at his brain, coaxed it back to work. "You stay with me, alright? You ain't crazy, and no, I'm not some ole boy in a dress." She pushed her breasts into him. "Woman. Got it?"

"Got it," he muttered. "But...that..." He nodded down between them.

"That," she replied emphatically, "is nothing for you to worry about. You can ignore it if you like, or you can enjoy it. That is, incidentally, what it's for."

Another expression from Basic sprang into his head and repeated itself insanely: 'this is my rifle, and this is my gun. This is for fighting, and this is for fun.'

I don't believe this, he thought, his brain running in circles. I cannot believe this.

Jack was suddenly very glad it was so dim in here, and that they were dancing so close, so that no one could see the very large, very stiff penis bearing down on his own. Jack was a well-hung guy, but the cock sprouting from the hips of this beautiful little lady put his to shame.

She grinned up at him, clearly enjoying his discomfiture, and swiveled her hips. Her bulge rubbed against his. Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. Her body felt good, and, to his mortified shock, that big warm lump down there felt good too.

"You like that, don'tcha Jack?"

He felt himself blushing like a fifteen-year-old. Jesus, this was strange!

"Don'tcha?" she asked again, and began grinding her hips into him. Her warm, firm penis massaged his. It felt fantastic, and in spite of himself, Jack groaned softly.

"I think you do like this," she teased. "I know I do."

Jack glanced around furtively. All the other dancers were preoccupied in their own little private two-person worlds.

She brought their clasped hands in close, and pressed his against the side of her breast. Jack's erection jerked back up to full mag. He couldn't help groaning again.

"Squeeze them," she whispered. "Play with them. Feel how hard my nipples are."

His cock oozed into his boxers. Throwing his reservations to the wind, he reached into the scoop of her gown and groped her.

Oh, Christ.

He hefted and squeezed each soft, heavy breast with fumbling, desperate greed. He rolled each engorged, rubbery nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Goddamn, his brain exulted. These are the biggest, nicest titties I've ever felt in my life. I want to put my face between them. I want to put my dick between them. I want to suck 'em 'til I taste milk.

She smiled at him, acknowledging his frenzy, and her eyes danced. She brought her lips to his ear and whispered into it. "You look...so hungry for me. Like you're ready to throw me down and put it to me right on this dance floor." From the delighted tremor in her voice, Jack guessed she wasn't entirely averse to the prospect. Jack couldn't help picturing it, and promptly groaned like he'd been bayoneted. His control over his orgasm eroded further.

Jesus Christ, I gotta stop this. I gotta...

"Are you gonna come, baby?" Her breath was hot, and she flicked his ear with her tongue. "Mmmm? Gonna come with me?"

It was the most outright filthy thing a woman had ever said to him, and she said it in such an eager, happy tone that it both stunned and aroused him unbearably.

"I...yeah..." And it was true. The last vestige of control slipped away. He was going to come, and it was only seconds away.

"Do it with me," she breathed.

Her cock nuzzled his with ferocious affection. Against his will, he sank his fingers into her tits and squeezed hard. He worked his hips with hers. Their hard rods squirmed passionately together through their clothes.

"Yes Jack," she gasped. "Yes, yes...ohhhh my..."

Her voice rose into a stifled kind of whimper as she began shaking.

"Oh Jesus...oh...oh..."

That big bulge down there pulsed strongly, several times, and Jack felt a rush of warmth and dampness spreading over the front of his pants.

She came! His mind babbled, oh holy shit, that's her cum, she came all over me, oh wow...

Jack barked a harsh grunt of both ecstasy and dismay as his body responded with an orgasm of its own. He came long and copiously, and with piercing, blissful sweetness.

She felt it, and even as she twitched in the spasms of her own release, she swirled her hips against his to increase his joy.

"Yes, Jack, yes, give it to me."

"Jesus," he moaned. His hips jerked as he shot again, and then shot some more. Ahhh. He ejaculated with such intensity that he thought his knees might buckle.

When it finally ended, he realized their clothes were soaked and sticking together. Suzy's eyes shone and her face glowed with contentment. She beamed at him.

"We're a mess, lover." She giggled. "Don't worry. Follow my lead."

With graceful little side-steps, she danced them over to a dark, discreet corner of the club. Jack was a saggy, panting wreck.

"Handkerchief?" she asked with a twinkle. He produced one, and she slipped it down between them. At her cue, they pulled apart slightly, and then pressed their bodies back together, trapping the hanky and allowing it to soak up their collective jism.

They continued to dance. Every now and again a small twitch would run through her lengthy member. He could feel each sluggish pulse of leftover sperm pass all the way up the pipe until it soaked through her dress and his hanky as it emerged. It was amazing. She gave a little sigh every time.

He found himself wondering what her dick looked like, in the flesh. Was as big as it felt? Now that his shock was cooling, his curiosity began to simmer. He wanted to see it, measure it, feel it. He needed to see firsthand if it was really real.

Perversely, he felt his lips begin to curl in a goofy grin. Jack's irrepressible humor caught up with him, and he had to chuckle and shake his head in disbelief. The situation was too absurd to do otherwise.

She giggled along with him, and gave his cheek an affectionate touch.

He cleared his throat. "So," he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound suave and unfazed, "where did a nice little girl like you get a big thing like that?"

"Oh, I was born with it," she admitted, with another little giggle. She sounded a little out of breath herself. She shrugged. "It ain't all that uncommon where I come from. But boy, these Northerners take on something fierce when they first meet me, I tell you what."

Can't imagine why, the distant part of his brain observed.

"Where did you come from?" Jack couldn't believe he was making small talk, but his head seemed to be slowing down its whirling spin. He hadn't been that rattled since his first time under fire. Talking to her helped. Despite all the strangeness, his body felt good and satisfied, and Suzy's sugary Southern drawl, more pronounced now, was an indisputable delight to hear.

"Northern Alabama, up in the Appalachians," she answered. "Little valley between Crow's Egg Mountain and Abbott's Hollow." She pronounced it 'Abbott's Holler.'

"It's not on any maps, and it doesn't really have a name--we just call it the Valley. About one in every ten girls or so has a little extra, if you know what I mean. We call it coming up 'fetched.'

"Fetched?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Like I said, it's no big thing there, but here in the big city, hoo boy."

"I can imagine," Jack replied. He was still coping with a little 'hoo boy' himself.

"Where are you from, Jack?" she prompted.

"Nowhere," he replied absently. "Fairfax, Oklahoma. Farm boy."

"I knew you weren't any city slicker." She gave him a sly smile, and a subtle grind of her hips. "They sure grow them big in Oklahoma."

He felt his composure slipping again. He blurted out, "What brought you up to New York?"

"Oh, I just got tired of laying around the Valley," she answered serenely. "Decided to try my luck. Besides, I know people here. In the Depression, a whole bunch of Valley folks came up here, looking for work. They're my regulars. They all get mighty homesick in the big city, and I'm like a little slice of home. None of these city boys," she added with a disdainful sniff, "want anything to do with a real woman like me."

"So you don't...um... got a fella?" he couldn't believe he asked that.

He felt a throb of renewed life in her member.

"No one special, if that's what you mean," she purred, batting her eyes at him. "You gotta place to stay for the night?"

She asked it so matter-of-factly. He'd never met anyone so forthright and genuine. Jack wondered if this woman would ever stop amazing him. Her penis aside, every other word out of her mouth just about knocked him over.