The Dancer

I walked in to the stripper bar that I occasionally frequent and sat at the bar. Almost immediately someone from behind whispered into my ear "Are you horny?" I turned around to see a surprisingly classy and attractive brunette in typical tight stripper clothing, platform heels and heavy make up. I replied that that was one of the better lines I'd heard for selling lap dances but that I wasn't interested.

She introduced herself as Anne and we chatted for a few minutes and then she moved on to other customers. Now strippers come in all sizes and shapes, from drop dead gorgeous slim, tall blondes to short, plump girls who you suspect blew the owner to get the job, from college girls trying to pick up a few extra bucks to crack addicts to girls that have chosen stripping as a career. They seem to run in age from teenagers to their thirties. Anne was somehow different. She definitely wasn't a teenager but I wasn't sure how old she was. My initial thought was that she looked like a conservative young suburban housewife with her plain medium length brown hair out fulfilling a fantasy of her husband. I watched her some more and noted that she seemed very comfortable both in her clothing and in her surroundings, smiling and laughing and I became curious about her.

Anne eventually sat down next to me again and we talked some more. She turned out to be a 26 year old grad student in medieval history and was also teaching freshman English. Her plan was to eventually become a university professor. She was just dancing for a couple days until school started in September. She had been stripping off and on for a number of years in various parts of the country depending on where she was going to school. She explained that she did it because the money was good, for the freedom of not having to have a steady job as well as having simply having fun. She truly enjoyed the interaction with her male customers, perhaps the power it gave her over them and the camaraderie she developed with the other girls.

Eventually it was Anne's turn to go on stage and I moved from the bar to a chair by the stage. I just about drooled, not so much at her naked body (while trim, there were others that night that were younger and firmer) but at how she moved and how she smiled and how relaxed she seemed to be, really just how happy she was to be displaying her body. I guess at age 52, I was smitten despite having been more or less happily married for 23 years.

After she finished her stage dance, Anne made the rounds of the customers trying to hustle a lap dance. When she struck out, she sat down next to me at the bar and we talked some more. She spoke candidly about a number of things including sex as did I for some reason. I am normally reserved about my personal feelings.

Perhaps it was the scotch or the conversation about sex but after a while I asked her if she was horny. Her eyes lit up, she grabbed my hand and led me to the section of the bar reserved for lap dances. What a stripper can and can't go do when giving a lap dance seems to vary from state to state. I have been to bars where virtually anything goes as long as you have a fat wallet. Where I live, girls must keep their bottoms on and patrons are not allowed to touch them with their hands, at least when the bouncer is looking.

Anne immediately took her top off and straddled me. She ground against me and started moaning softly. Thinking the moaning was fake, I looked up at her and said "You know, I'm not even hard yet." In fact, it was not fake and she was truly aroused. She continued to do her thing and eventually I got very aroused as well. At one point, I held her and rubbed her naked back when the bouncer wasn't around. For about ten seconds, she was still, frozen. I doubted she had an orgasm, but she said with a strange look "Your touch, do you know what you did to me?"

I didn't know for sure and she didn't elaborate. Somehow we had connected on a strange level that I didn't understand. Perhaps she did given her years of dancing. At the end of the dance, I wanted to stay and talk some more and get to know her better but somehow something had changed. I said goodbye, turned and went to leave. She stopped me and asked for a hug. Now there are hugs between family, hugs with children, and hugs between business associates of the opposite sex. This hug was strictly lust on both our parts as we ground our crotches into each other's thighs. She whispered an email address in my ear and I left.

I was unsure whether to contact her, not knowing what to say and not knowing if I wanted to pursue a relationship. My wife Katie is truly a wonderful woman and we have built a great life together. We have always given each other space and always allowed for each others peculiarities such as my visits to strip clubs.

As good as our relationship was in most respects, sex was an area that had been up and down over the years. Very, very hot at the beginning and pretty hot at some other times. Katie had had some significant health issues recently that dramatically and negatively affected our sexual activity. This was in addition to the normal slowdown that we all experience as time goes along. It had gone downhill to the point where it had become a monthly thing with no imagination on her part. I had tried any number of things from vibrators to romantic dinners to massages to a Sybian all to no avail.

A month after I saw her, I finally sent Anne an email. It was a long rambling message where I introduced myself, told what I did for work (manufacturing) and elaborated on a number of the things we had talked about at the bar. I half expected that she had forgotten about me. She responded a few days later with a similar newsy, folksy message mostly about school. There was no mention of anything sexual or even flirtatious in either of our messages. An hour after she sent the first message, I received another from her. All it said was "YES, I came! I miss your touch."

Somehow this woman really intrigued me. I emailed her back and asked if we could meet for lunch. She replied with a one word answer "No." A follow up message said "But I loved looking at your eyes."

My response was a little more graphic describing in several long paragraphs how I loved her enormous nipples. Anne chose to ignore my comments and went back to her newsy, folksy stuff. We continued conversing this way for months and got to know each other quite well. The only subject she never mentioned was any relationships she had. For all I knew she could have been a lesbian or she could have been married.

We kept up these emails for six months and I really looked forward to them if just to break the monotany of life. I gave up thinking of Anne in a sexual way and just enjoyed corresponding with a bright witty person. In one my messages, I mentioned that my wife was going to Florida for ten days which included President's Day weekend. Anne replied immediately with "How would you like to take a young, hot, horny babe out to dinner Saturday night?"

My response was a sarcastic "Of course I would, but I don't know anyone who fits that description." I was really turned on by the prospect of spending time with her to say nothing of the potential for sex. I also considered the guilt I would feel for cheating on my wife and the possibility that this chick could be a wacko. What 26 year old girl asks a 52 year married guy on a date without some ulterior motive? I am not the fat slob that many 52 year olds are and in fact, am in quite good shape mostly from years of running. What little hair I have still has not gone gray although my beard has some. However being realistic, I am not a catch for a young trim vibrant girl and I am certainly not rich as I had made clear in my messages to Anne. Nonetheless, my dick desperately wanted to pursue this relationship.

Anne chose to ignore my comments and replied with directions to her apartment and asked if 6:00 was okay. I waited a few days unsure of what to do. I finally made reservations at seafood joint far enough from where I lived to hopefully avoid running into someone I knew. I then messaged her back and told her how much I was looking forward to that night. She replied to my message saying she understood and appreciated my reluctance but that she wanted to have a really special night. I guess she read my mind about Katie and my guilt. She also asked me what I wanted her to wear.

I have never been one to dress. I essentially have two uniforms, jeans and a tee shirt/flannel shirt depending on the season or chino pants with a business shirt. However, I do really enjoy it when a woman dresses well and have a number of clothing fetishes. Not wanting to admit these fetishes, I told Anne to dress anyway that she was comfortable and that jeans were okay with me. After all, this was not a fancy restaurant that we were going to. She pressed me saying that she got turned on by turning on the man she was with and how she enjoyed turning heads. I replied briefly that a short skirt and heels always grabbed by attention and left it at that. I certainly was starting to look forward to Saturday.

I arrived at Anne's door promptly at six wearing my upscale chino/business shirt uniform in anticipation that she would wearing more than jeans. Strangely I was not nervous. She opened the door and my jaw went slack. She had on a black turtleneck sweater, a black leather skirt that ended about six inches above her knees, black stockings and black patent leather heels. The only jewelry she wore were a pair of very large gold hoop earrings. Her eye make up was understated compared to the last time I saw her in the strip club. She wore a glossy deep red lipstick and had nails painted in a matching color that almost looked wet. Altogether it was something of a retro 90's or maybe 80's look which was more in line with my generation than hers.

"So, how do I look?" she asked knowing full well by my reaction that I was overwhelmed.

"Really good" was the only response I could muster, still trying to play it cool.

We spoke for a few minutes and Anne went to get her coat. As I watched from behind I noted how easily she walked in her heels and how she wore seamed nylons. I tried to catch a glimpse to see if she was actually wearing stockings and a garter belt (my all time favorite) rather than pantyhose but could not determine for sure.

When she returned with her coat she asked me again how she looked. Understanding now that she needed reassurance I told her that she looked terrific and certainly succeeded if her goal was to turn me on.

She looked at me and said "I have been around men long enough to know that you are all different. I truly enjoy turning you on. It gives me a special thrill that I can't describe. There's probably some psychological reason for this that I don't care to know about. I just enjoy it and hopefully you will to. Seriously, if you are at all embarrassed by my appearance, if you think I look like a hooker, anything, let me know and I will happily change. My only desire is to turn you on and make myself that object of your attention and maybe your lust. Are you sure I look okay?"

"Holy shit!" was my only thought. I put my arms around her waist from behind and told her she was unbelievably attractive and sexy. I have never seen a girl that turned me on more. I did say that if she wanted to continue to turn me on all night that she might want to keep her lipstick fresh. I then nibbled her ear lightly and pulled down her turtleneck to kiss her neck. She in turn moved my hands from her waist to her breasts. I kneaded them and felt her nipples get large. She wore no bra, only what felt like a silky camisole under the turtleneck. She wore jasmine perfume that I only smelled when I was up against her that I found incredibly intoxicating. I continued kissing her neck and she felt a little unsteady. I stopped thinking something was wrong.

"Whoo, I guess I'm getting a little turned on" she said slightly embarrassed

"Would it help if I went down on you for five minutes or so?"

"That came out of left field. It's getting late. We really should go." She paused and then said "Maybe just for five minutes"

Anne took me by the hand and led me to her bedroom. We stood next to her bed and I went back to kissing her neck and feeling her tits. Her nipples got enormous. I moved away from her and unzipped her skirt. I was thrilled to find that she was actually wearing a garter belt along with a black nylon thong. To me, there is nothing sexier than to view a woman from behind wearing a taut garter belt and stockings. I gently laid her on the bed.

"So, you have a lipstick fetish?" she asked suddenly changing the mood. "I wonder how that happened"

"Probably some psychological thing that I don't want to go into" I replied.

"Did you ever see the movie Deep Throat" she asked out of the blue. Somehow, this girl was keeping me on my toes.

"Yeah, years ago. Wasn't that made before you were born?" I suddenly became aware of the age differential between us.

"There was a scene in the movie where a girl is sitting on a kitchen counter and a guy is eating her and she asks 'Do you mind if I smoke.' I guess I have always had a similar fantasy about asking a guy who is about to go down on me if he minded if I smoked a joint"

I started kissing the area between her stocking tops and her thong reveling in the aroma. She had perfumed herself downstairs as well as upstairs. The perfume was mixing with her normal scents which really got to me. I finally lifted my head and said "I'd love to watch you smoke a joint"

It had been years since I had smoked dope. I had stopped for reasons long forgotten but did remember how aroused I used to become when I toked.

Anne stretched to reach a bedside drawer. She withdrew a joint, ashtray and lighter. I continued to kiss her. Her thong was semi transparent and her pussy was slightly visible. There was no hair – just baby smooth skin with no trace of irritation or stubble. I was in seventh heaven.

Anne propped herself up on a pillow and lit the joint. She took one hit and held it and then another. I became extremely turned on by the sight of her smoking so sensuously through those red lips. I then suggested that I had to get her thong off. Once off, I gently kissed her lips for a minute before dipping my tongue inside. She suddenly became extremely wet to the point of her juices dripping on to the bedspread. I looked up at her and she asked me if a wanted a hit. I said yes and moved up along side of her. She handed me the joint and I took a deep hit. Anne then moved to kiss me before I could exhale. We shared the smoke and the taste of her lipstick and the taste of her pussy from my mustache and beard. She then took another hit and we repeated the routine. In the meantime, I kept one hand between her legs.

I moved back down to her crotch as Anne snubbed the joint out. She tasted so good! I tried to be slow and gentle and avoided her clit. At first, I just concentrated on her lips. Her juices were just flooding out. Eventually I worked up to her clit while inserting first one, then two and finally three fingers. After a few moments, Anne's legs started to shake. Then she started squirming and finally erupted into a ferocious orgasm the likes of which I had never seen before. She quickly pushed my head away while my fingers remained in her. I looked up at her. She was a mess, lipstick smudged, hair tousled, missing an earring, sweaty, pooped out and stoned. I just found her to be irresistible looking that way.

"That took a little more than five minutes. We ought to get going or we're going to miss the reservation." I finally said

She groggily looked at me as if to say, "Fuck you, I can't lift a finger" Instead after a minute, she said "Yeah, we should go."

I offered her my hand and helped her off the bed. She was still fully dressed except for her skirt which I had removed. This time she was decidedly unsteady in her heels. She grabbed the skirt and headed for the bathroom. She abruptly turned to me and gave me a limp hug and said "Wow" in a soft voice.

Anne hung on me for a few minutes to gather her strength and then went to the bathroom. She called out that there was soda, beer and wine in the fridge and to help myself. The pot had made me thirsty and the sex hungry (or was it vice versa) so I grabbed a can of ginger ale and found a jar of peanuts, sat on the living room sofa and waited for her to return.

Anne opened the bathroom door about ten minutes later. Instead of being fully dressed as I had expected, perhaps even in jeans to be more comfortable, she wore only the garter and stockings. She had combed her hair, touched up her make up and replaced the missing earring. Her lips were now a deep shade of pink.

"Hi", she said curling up next to me on the sofa. She immediately drained the remaining half can of soda and devoured a big handful of peanuts. "Remember how I said that I enjoyed turning you on? You really react wonderfully to sexual stimulation." Anne started nibbling on my ear and kissing my neck. Boy her energy returned quickly! "Would it turn you on if I sat on you for five minutes?"

"It might" I replied. I don't know what there was about this girl that made me so understated or possibly sarcastic. Maybe after exchanging so many words via email, it was nice to let emotions and body language speak.

She then unceremoniously unbuckled my belt, yanked off first my shoes, then my pants and then my underwear. She was still very turned on and quite stoned. The weed had not affected me as much. Anne got down on her knees and gently took me in her mouth. The sight of those pink lips around my penis was almost more than I could stand, to say nothing of what she did with her tongue on the underside of my dick. Fortunately or unfortunately, she quickly moved up to sit on me.

Anne was amazingly tight, especially for someone who was so well lubricated. She ground gently against me while I ate her wonderful nipples. Her motions increased and she became oblivious to me. Soon an orgasm hit her followed shortly by another. After that she went limp and slipped off me, pooped again. We sat in silence just touching each other for a good ten minutes. She finally asked if I had come knowing full well that I hadn't.

"No, I didn't but remember I am supposed to stay turned on all night and I don't think I could if I came." I said smiling

"Bullshit" she replied. "I really think you need to come. I want to see you satisfied. I've sort have been monopolizing the sex so far. How would you like to do it?"

I stood up and grabbed her hand to pull her off the sofa and led her to the kitchen. Again, I started kissing the back of her neck which still smelled wonderful. Her stockings now had runs in them but her garter belt framed her ass erotically. I slowly pushed her over to the kitchen table.

"You're not going to fuck me from behind, are you?"

"I might"

"You're not going to do it hard, are you?"

"I might" I replied as she slipped my dick into her pussy. Somehow, with her height with the heels on, my height and the table supporting her, we lined up perfectly.

I started slowly maintaining an easy rhythm. Anne was folded on the table with one arm stretched out holding the opposite side and the other hand grasping my balls. As we increased the speed she moved both arms out to support herself. Soon I was banging my balls against her and we were both moaning very loudly. The sight of her garter glad ass, the silky feel of her stockings, what had occurred previously in the evening, the pot, I don't ever remember being so turned on. I stopped banging her at the point of my orgasm. I just stood there and spasmed into her, screaming "Oh shit" and being too lost to care whether she came again. Somehow, my spasms must have hit her because she suddenly started contracting and screaming "Oh shit" as well. Soon we collapsed laughing onto the kitchen chairs.