Entertaining at Large Ch. 02

I had never seen a queue for men's toilet and it was only when I made the sanctuary of the Ladies and leaned back against the door to take a deep breath that I realised why it was there. George had not been joking when he said blokes went to masturbate after the acts. I did not know whether to be flattered, or throw up again. My relaxed stomach told me it had better be the former and I found myself thinking about where all the spunk was going when they came. Glad I'm not the cleaner I told myself.

It was cool in the Ladies and I realised I was getting goosebumps on my arms as my sweat dried. I looked around for something to cover myself with and saw that, true to her word, Mandy had hung my clothes from the mirror where Tracy's had been earlier. I also became aware of a strange noise coming from the end cubicle. It sounded as if a small animal might have got trapped in there. Pulling on my blouse, I went to investigate.

My co-performer was being fucked against the open stall door. Both she and the skinny boy who was servicing her were letting out quiet grunts as they went about their business. That had been the noise I had heard. I froze, uncertain what the etiquette was in these situations. Tracy had her legs locked around the boy's waist, her arms thrown over his shoulders. She was still naked. Her eyes were closed, her head resting against his. His jeans, pants and belt were around his ankles and his pink, polyester polo shirt was stretched and wrinkled where his partner had grabbed the cheap material in her fists. I was fascinated, impressed with the power as he thrust himself into her despite her weight, but a little repelled by the angry red pimples on his buttocks. He was trying to lean his head down to suck a bouncing nipple at the same time. Tracy opened her eyes and spotted me watching.

'Hi Susan. You want to pee? We'll be done in a minute.'

Talk about cool. I just had to laugh.

'No, you carry on. I can wait.'

'Keep watching if you like. We don't mind, do we Barry?'

She bucked harder against him. I could not work out whether his grunt was affirmation, or just the expression of his extra effort. I stayed where I was touching myself below the cover of the silky blouse. I was horny before entering the room; had got hotter watching the copulating couple and was desperate for release when I slipped a finger between the swollen folds of my pussy.

'Enjoy yourself? You looked great, the bit I saw.'

'Thanks. I did.'

This was bizarre. She was speaking in short pants with her enjoyment of the boy's efforts, but the conversation was banal. I had found my clitoris and was massaging it. I could feel y whole body flooding with warmth and a certain weakness at the knees.

'Barry and his mate were turned on too. Weren't you?'

She grabbed a handful of his hair which elicited another grunt.

'They dragged me in here after you took your blouse off. Said they couldn't wait any longer.'

'His mate?'

'He went first. Probably in the bar now supping beer.'

'He your boyfriend?'

I remembered her saying when we first met how randy her stripping made him. I was finding it hard to form words as I watched, transfixed.

'Oh no. He's out at the footie, some sort of cup game. Barry's just one of the crew.'

I guess I should have been shocked. But Tracy was obviously completely happy with her sexuality so I just smiled at her.

Any further conversation was knocked on the head by Barry's orgasm. It was an undramatic affair. His grunting and thrusting suddenly came in shorter bursts. Tracy closed her eyes again and let out a series of small oohs, and then they were done. Barry sort of leaned against her and the two slid down the door until Tracy's feet touched the floor. There they stayed for a few seconds, propped against each other and breathing heavily. I rapidly followed them letting out sharp cries as the awaited orgasm shook my body. Stars burst on the inside of my closed eyes. It took several moments for me to recover.

Barry's condom-sheathed cock slipped out and he moved quickly to grab himself and remove it. He dropped it in the porcelain bowl as Tracy pushed against him to grab a handful of tissue with which she wiped herself. I slipped by her and plonked myself on the stall letting out a short groan as the my bladder emptied itself. Barry hoisted up his trousers and with another grunt was gone. He was never going to be conversationalist of the year. Tracy stayed looking down at me.

'So. You enjoy yourself?'

'Too right. I was a bit nervous at first. But, yeah. It was good.'

'Gonna do it again?'

'Don't know. Probably. It was a real turn on. But, you know...'

I trailed off. The thrill had been massive. I couldn't wait to get out and do it again tonight. But part of it was the unexpectedness of it all. I had started the evening planning to drop off Mr J and then go home, not dropping my panties for a roomful of men.

'You should. You're good at it. You could come and do gigs with me if you like. It's good money.'

'Let's talk about it some other time. I'm a bit worried about this next bit. What does George mean by "raunchy"?'

Tracy laughed before reaching behind the door and pulling out an old towelling robe. She walked over to my clothes and tossed me my skirt.

'Let's go and get ready. It's easy. I just get down off the stage, sit on a few knees, rub my tits in their faces, that sort of thing. They like a bit of banter.'

She was holding the door open. I was still struggling with my zip. Why was it harder to put the blooming thing on than take it off? I followed Tracy into the Snug. She locked the door behind us.

'Keep George out. He's a bit of a peeping Tom.'

She laughed and walked over to one of the benches where someone, probably Mandy, had laid out a number of those suit protectors. You know the kind of thing, long zippered bags enclosing a hanger. Tracy opened up a couple of them.

'French maid? Naughty Nurse. Shall I look in the rest?'

'What are you wearing?'

'Oh, I'm going for a punk thing.'

She nodded towards a pile of what looked like rags piled haphazardly on one of the chair. She held up a small T-shirt. It had a couple of rips in it which looked like they had been done by a razor blade. Someone had written "Fuck You?" In felt pen across the front. I liked the question mark.

'I think I'll go with Naughty Nurse then. Give old George a treat.'

'He does like it. Says it was the outfit my mum was wearing the first time he saw her.'

'Your mum doesn't mind? You know, you stripping and everything?'

'Nah. How could she? It's sort of the family business.'

This time Tracy's laugh had a sort-of nostalgic ring to it. She seemed lost in her own thoughts for a moment, then pulled herself back to the present and smiled at me.

'Let's see if it fits.'

She pulled the clothes out of the bag and I took off my blouse and skirt. The outfit was all rubber. I detected a strong aroma of bicycle inner tubes when Tracy took me it out and powdered the inside. It consisted of a pair of pants and a tight crop top. These went under the shortest dress I had ever worn. When I got into it, it barely covered my bum. The crop top was already squeezing my boobs up to show plenty of cleavage. The dress pushed them some more. It was difficult to breathe.

'Don't worry. It'll get more flexible when your body warms it.'

She threw me a little cotton cap and passed over a cheap imitation stethoscope. The outfit was all white, decorated with red crosses. They were roughly positioned over my tits and pussy, as well as on the front of the cap. The final touch was a pair of knee-high, platform boots. They were made of some sort of plastic and pinched my feet; they were about half-a-size too small. I hobbled around in them grimacing.

'I'd get them off straight away if I were you. But they'll be OK to get you to the stage.'

Tracy was putting on her own outfit. She put on a black bra under the skin-tight shirt and struggled into a pair of thin short shorts which left nothing to the imagination. There were a couple of slits in the back of those too. She pulled on a battered pair of Doc Martens which she tied loosely and started applying black make up in slashes over her lips and eyes. After the application of what seemed to be most of a can of hairspray she was completely transformed into a cross between a street-fighter and some sort of vampire.

'Like it?'

'Not my style, but yes. You'd scare the shit out of me if I saw you coming towards me down a dark alley.'

'That's definitely the look I was going for.'

We got through to the bar just as George was coming to the end of what sounded like a long and involved story about his recent inland revenue inspection. Tracy waved to him and I slipped behind the serving area and stood next to Mandy. I could feel the hem of the rubber dress touching the crease of my buttocks. I was not giving the crowd an early show by going and sitting with the lads.

'...so she said to me: "you call these tits and I'll call those taxes".

There was loud laughter from the now mostly drunk customers. There was even louder applause when George announced that the joke marked the end of his set. The place was shaking when he announced it was time for Tracy to do her next strip. Mandy flicked some switches behind her and pressed a button on the sound system as her daughter bounced onto the stage. The sound of the Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant" was deafening. Tracy pogoed up and down for a few bars, head banging furiously before diving headfirst off the stage into the waiting arms of a gang of lads who had strategically positioned themselves there. The rest of the audience applauded and turned in their seats as she was carried around the tables. I noticed a couple of her helpers grabbing a quick feel as she squirmed in their arms, but she didn't seem to be complaining.

Once back on her feet Tracy leapt into the lap of a man at the table she was positioned next to. I could almost hear him groan as her arse hit his groin. She leaned back across the knees of the guy sitting next to him and wriggled around on the two of them. She was quickly up and moving to the next group where she straddled a middle aged bloke sitting back from the table and proceeded to rub her chest against his face. His glasses fell off in the process and Tracy leaned back and rubbed them against her groin before returning them clumsily to his face.

She circled the crowded pub in the next few minutes, rubbing her bum against a man here, shoving her tits in a few faces there. It seemed to be open season on her boobs and arse. Hands came from everywhere to touch and squeeze her. She danced away from each group laughing as she did so. At one table she took a mouthful of beer from one glass and spat out out into another. Not exactly sanitary but the guys didn't seem to mind.

When Tracy got back to the front of the stage she arranged herself almost decorously across Mr J's lap. She formed her mouth into a taut "o" and looked down at his groin before smiling at him. I watched him blush; he was having the time of his life. She then reached across to take Wot and Steve's hands, dragging them towards her chest. I could see her speaking to them, but, of course, couldn't hear what she was saying.

Suddenly shirt disappeared. The two men had slipped fingers inside the tears and ripped it off. Tracy gave a little shriek and threw her arms around the old man's neck. He buried his face in her cleavage. She eased herself up and patted his cock before kissing his cheek. As she was leaning over him Luke grabbed her shorts and they too were ripped off. Tracy hopped up onto the stage.

What happened next surprised everyone. She reached down into her boot and, with everyone's attention on her boobs which were almost escaping from the skimpy black bra, she pulled out a clasp knife. It glittered under the bright lights as she eased out the short blade. In one sudden movement she cut through the bra at the mid-point between her breasts. The remnants hung loosely from her shoulders as she bounced up and down in time to the music. Eventually it fell off and she kicked it aggressively out into the crowd.

I saw her beckoning to someone beneath her and strained to see what was going on. Piotr was climbing up onto the stage. He looked embarrassed and excited at the same time. I could see the envy in the faces of the men at the tables nearest to me. Tracy handed him the knife and whispered something in his ear. I saw him smile. The plump girl was stretching the side elastic of her panties taut and we all watched as Piotr slid the blade between her hip and the elastic and sharply cut it away. There were loud cheers from the crowd and Tracy spun round to let my Polish pal slit the material on the other side of her knickers.

She held out her hand and Piotr passed over the knife. She snapped it closed and returned it to her boot before rewarding him with a brief kiss and the destroyed remnants of her panties. She then stepped down off the stage and sauntered between the tables until she was alongside the bar.

'That's how it's done, babes. See you in a few.'

I watched her naked butt, flushed with hand prints, wiggle towards the Snug and turned to Mandy.

'Put something on quick. If I don't go out now I'll get cold feet. That was amazing.'

George had picked up the microphone and looked to be readying himself to take the stage. I held up a flat palm to stop him before folding back the counter opening and stepping out. My feet ached inside the uncomfortable boots and it took a few steps for me to adjust again to tottering on platforms. A few bars of a track I did not recognise boomed out before suddenly quietening. George was not going to be denied.

'Anyone with medical training in the house? I think I'm having a heart attack.'

There was laughter as the crowd became aware of my entrance; the music was up again and I moved as steadily as I could towards the stage. Already hands were reaching out and grabbing my arse. Someone slapped me quite hard. I would have looked back but I had to concentrate on my footwork. At the base of the stage I leant over Luke's shoulder and asked him to assist me onto the stageHe . He stood, offering a hand, and then shoved me unceremoniously up onto the platform with a strong hand on my bottom. I tottered under the lights like a stilt walker. The boots were definitely going to have to come off.

I plonked myself down on the chair and splayed my legs. This was the raunchy part of the evening after all. I stroked my pussy over the plastic which covered it and stared out. There was a definite bleariness on the faces of most of the audience; George had obviously been selling a lot of beer. I tried to recognise the music I was supposed to be dancing to but failed. There was a definite gap in my music education which started about the time of my marriage. Still, I reasoned, this lot were not looking to hand out style points. I unzipped the boots and kicked them off. My feet felt immediate relief. Now I could concentrate on the rest of the act.

Tracy was right about the dress. It was definitely warming up and as a a consequence becoming more flexible. I leaned over the chair and felt the rubber mould my bottom. I stroked a hand over my mounds and finished with a slap. There was a satisfying crack as my hand hit the material and I felt a tingle in my pussy as the pain shot through me. I faced the front and smoothed my hands over the dress. I could feel that my nipples were already hard and the dress felt as if it was painted on.

The Crown and Anchor crowd were not subtle. Or particularly inventive. "Get 'em off", "Show us your tits" and "More" made up the majority of the shouts I could discern from against the background of cheering and piercing whistles. Wot had obviously started a trend. On the other hand, that definitely made them easy to please. I popped the top fastener on the dress and stepped down off the stage. I could feel myself getting excited as I looked down at the leering faces and felt sweaty hands stroking my lower back and arse. I pushed through the few standing men and snaked between the tables. I may as well start at the back, I reasoned.

I started dipping my finger into beer glasses and sucking it suggestively as I squeezed past seated men. They seemed to like it and I noticed glasses were being repositioned at the edge of tables in front of me as eager blokes dropped hints as to a suggested route. I'm good at taking hints and I smiled down at them and stroked shoulders as I passed.

The more adventurous among the crowd, usually at the urging of their table-mates, had started slapping my butt. At first the shock and concomitant thrill made me jump. I soon found myself beginning to enjoy it. I would wiggle my rear at one group as I leaned over to stir a pint on another table. I have never had a proper spanking. Sometimes Dave would slap me during sex. Luke had tanned me more systematically during the gang bang and, afterwards, issued an open invitation to a proper session. The tingling in my pussy as each hand struck made me more and more convinced it was a date I was going to have to make.

One man pretended to faint after I ruffled his hair. I placed the end of the stethoscope against his chest. That became another excuse to lean over, presenting my bottom to anonymous hands behind me. The bolder customers were stroking my tits as I bent forward. My excitement was reaching a higher pitch.

'Here darling, stick your listener on this.'

A fat, perspiring man in his fifties had a meaty first around his cock which strained against the cotton of his cheap chinos. I pretended to look shocked, then smiled and leaned down. I rubbed the flat, plastic head up and down his shaft before standing abruptly.

'Sorry buddy, it's dead. Let's see what we can do about it.'

I was almost at the back of the room and decided now was the time to get more up close and personal. I straddled the man with some difficulty. First the dress was reluctant to give, I felt it pop up around my waist as I threw my leg over him; then there was his size. He really was verging on the obese and when I eventually sat astride him both my feet were off the ground. I bounced up and down on the soft cushion of his thighs for a few moments before struggling off him.

I tried to emulate what I had seen Tracy do: sitting on laps and leaning back, or pushing my cleavage into lucky punters faces. After the first couple of attempts, though, I started getting frustrated with the dress. It was clinging to me like a glove and the nature of the material made it catch and pull against stubble and the less-sweaty faces. My tits were feeling a bit sore both from the friction and the pressure from grabbing hands.

I looked down at the table of men nearest me. They were better dressed than the average and, by the look of them, less tipsy. They looked shyly up at me as I grinned at them but made no move to try and touch me. It was almost sweet. I gestured for the one nearest me to swivel in his seat so I could sit on his lap. I threw an arm round his shoulder and whispered to him as I sat.

'Help me out of this dress will you?'

I saw him gulp and felt his body tense against me. The erection which I had felt as soon as I settled on him seemed to get harder. I wriggled against it to encourage him. I leaned back slowly to stretch the material further and give him free access to the fasteners. I found myself looking up into the face of his neighbour who passed his arm across my back to offer support. I grinned.

'Hello.'

'Nice to meet you.'

We both laughed out loud at the surreal conversation. I could feel the clumsy fingers of his friend struggling to lever the poppers open. I pressed my bottom harder against the stiff cock beneath me to try and stretch the rubber and make it easier for him.