tagIncest/TabooLap Dance Surprise

Lap Dance Surprise


"Tony Morgan is a dick-head"

This statement sat just below the toilet roll holder in one of the cubicles in the ladies toilets, matched two other similar sentiments elsewhere in the school and entirely agreed with my own views on the subject.

Tony is my elder brother Greg's best friend, although the adjective and Tony did not sit well together in my mind, almost from the moment that Tony arrived at our school at the age of sixteen when his family moved into the area.

Physically they were both similar, around 6 ft tall, well-built and glowing with health from sport, a fact that was not lost on a number of admiring girls. But that was where the similarity ended, for while Greg was shy, Tony was an extrovert; he was charming, witty and confident to Greg's awkward silence.

For Greg, I think Tony provided the confidence to go out, to see pretty girls and to have a life, while Greg possibly provided a degree of caution to Tony's more excessive behaviour.

I dearly love my brother, so anyone who was his friend should have been good in my eyes, but for all his attractions, I never really took to him. You see, Tony was a chancer, a risk-taker; he was not afraid to try or to ask anything and he was not ashamed of a rejection, but it wasn't until their last year at school that I had a clear reason to dislike him.

I began to hear from other girls that Tony had no respect for the girls he dated; to him it seemed to be a game to take a girl out for an evening or two so that he could have his way with her, without regard to how she felt.

Some of the stories were about girls who had willingly played around a little, but had not wanted to take things too far, found themselves pressured or even forced to do more than they wanted. How he made them do sexual things despite the fact that they were in tears. How he had forcibly put his hands in their knickers despite their resistance. How he spread malicious stories about a girl being "easy" or having STDs.

The final straw was when he was at our house and, while Greg was upstairs, he came over to me with a smile on his face, complimented me on how I had really grown up since he had first seen me and that I was turning into a beautiful young woman. Then....well, I was still only fifteen and I was shocked. No one had ever done such a thing to me before, not even the boys who had taken me out had ever gone further than a clumsy kiss or an awkward embrace.

Fortunately he heard Greg coming down and moved away from me, but from that moment on, I disliked Tony Morgan. Whenever he came around to our house or I saw him at school, I avoided him.


Three years passed, during which time Greg and Tony both went to the same university, shared a house with others and finally graduated in the summer that I finished school.

Greg joined a large well-known accountancy firm for the start of three years of professional training while Tony went into the City, or more precisely he went to work for an investment bank. Given that he had always been a risk-taker, life as a currency or commodity dealer did seem to be a natural fit for him. Since both had gone to work in London, once more they shared a flat.

As for me, unfortunately I didn't manage to get the necessary grades to be accepted at my chosen university, but I did get accepted through clearing at the University of London. And so as autumn approached I duly became a student, living away from home and with independence that I had never had previously. I loved it.

I made friends easily, went out to parties, drank too much, met a succession of male students who appeared to make a bee-line to me and I had more than my fair share of late nights in a strange bed. I was buzzing.

I had never had so much attention from the guys. Sure I had had several boyfriends at school and I had already lost my virginity, but this just seemed to have gone into overdrive. My girl friends certainly didn't escape the interest of the men, but they did notice that I seemed to get that much more. They told me it was because I exuded sex appeal, that my walk was lithe and that my body was.....well, hot!

I honesty have no idea what it was and I certainly wasn't aware of doing anything deliberate. As for that "hot" body, I had curves of course, but I was only a 34B bra size (though admittedly set to stun, in the parlance of Star Trek) and I was fit and toned from the gym. I got my looks and my 5 ft 6 in height from my mum; I know from some of the photographs when she was younger, that she had been absolutely stunning, but I could only see my blemishes.

But hey! Let's not over-analyse it! I was loving it.

By the end of the spring term however, reality kicked in. I realised that I had somewhat overspent my student loan, all but eliminated my savings and that I could not expect any help from my parents since my father had become a victim of the recession -- he had lost his job, although he did manage to get some work, this was temporary and at a lower salary level.

And so I looked around for some work at the very time that pubs were closing, restaurants had fewer bookings and shops simply were not recruiting. In short, I was having no success and my finances were pretty much at breaking point.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. In my first week at University, I had joined a modern dance class for some exercise and a bit of fun, and I had become friendly with the regulars. I was rather bemoaning my financial plight with Katie, a second year student, and telling her how desperate I was getting,

"I don't know where to look next. I've gone to all the shops I can think of, tried restaurants, pubs....I don't know, it seems rather like an impossible dream" I shook my head in frustration, "you always hear about students working their way through Uni, but I don't see how they can; there's just nothing out there!"

"There's always something out there" Katie replied

"I've looked! There's nothing!" I shot back "and I'm desperate; my money has almost gone"

Katie looked at me, carefully considering me, but said nothing.

"I can't ask my parents," I continued "they've got money worries of their own. My brother has just started work as a trainee, so he gets a pittance."

Katie opened he mouth to say something, but I was into my rant now "Oh why was I so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Are you really willing to try anything?"

"Yes, anything! If I can't find something soon, then I'll have to drop out of Uni" I shuddered at the thought, "and I can't bear having to tell my parents how stupid I've been with money"

"I've got a suggestion. But let's go somewhere quieter so we can talk...." Katie looked around her "...privately"

I frowned but stood up, collected my gear and followed Katie. What was it that Katie could suggest that I hadn't already tried? We walked away from the normal student areas to a place that no-one went; judging from the state of the floor, this included the cleaners too.

"Ok" said Katie turning to me "have you ever considered dancing?"

"I can't dance on stage, I'm not a trained dancer and I'd have to audition, and..." Katie held up her hand to stop me.

"No, not that sort of dance. I meant dancing in a gentlemen's club"

I looked at her for a moment, puzzled.

"You know -- where men go for some fun!" Katie saw that I still hadn't caught on yet "A lap-dancing club"

My eyes opened, but Katie rushed on "I know it sounds, well ........ But it's not. I mean, I've done it and you can get so much money. Look they're always looking for new girls, pretty girls with nice figures who can move; not real dancers, just ones who ..... can get the guys to part with their cash"

My mouth had now joined my eyes and I, no doubt, presented a truly vacant expression, but Katie went on "I've seen the way that guys look at you around here and you can certainly move, they'd love you at the club. You said you were desperate and you can earn some serious money, especially in the City.

Look you don't have to decide right away, come down with me tomorrow. See the place and talk to some of the girls, they'll tell you what it's like. They've got rules that the guys have to follow and if they try anything, they get booted; it's set up so that the girls are in control."

"But what happens if someone knows me?" I asked "I mean, what happens if someone recognises me?"

I looked at Katie, Katie looked back at me and we burst into laughter as we realised that I had all but accepted the suggestion.


I did go with Katie the next day and found, to my surprise, that everyone was friendly and at ease with each other. I suppose that I had been expecting something seedy, but the only time I felt awkward was when the guy who ran the place got me to try out in front of him; I felt like a piece of meat at first, but not for long, because he got the girls to give any criticism.

And he liked me! All the girls used stage names (mine was to be Cindy) and we agreed that I could use one of their wigs, a fairly long, straight, platinum-blonde offering to cover my mid-length dark brown, slightly wavy hair and that I could either wear a small mask around the eyes or achieve the same effect using heavy stage make-up. And this should disguise me "from my own mother" although we never discussed what my mother would be doing in a place like this!

Despite several practise sessions with others in the club, including the manager, and with suggestions from other dancers, nothing quite prepares you adequately for your first lap dance with a paying member of the public. But now it seemed that my mum's foresight in sending me to dance lessons as a child was finally going to pay off, although possibly not quite as she had intended!

My first night at the club was nerve-wracking and my first dance was, uncomfortable and embarrassing. I was fortunate that I got to do this for a group of guys with one of the other girls, who essentially took the lead and definitely helped me through that ordeal.

But the next set was easier and by the end of the night I was fairly relaxed and had started to enjoy it. I had never had so many compliments, I had never felt so sexy yet safe because of the no-touching rule and I had never earned so much money so easily.

And things continued like this on other nights. I had been told that sometimes the men wanted more than the "basic" lap dance, but that this was entirely up to the girl. The most common request was for the girl to be naked as she danced, and this did happen although at a price. I had also heard that, in the privacy of the single rooms, occasionally something more might take place, though this usually had nothing to do with money, it was more that the girl took a shine to the guy. I had ground and gyrated my body to the full satisfaction of the men concerned, but I had always drawn the line at taking my clothes off. And perversely it was my polite but firm refusal that seemed to drive the men, or at least the more frequent visitors, wild.

It wasn't until I had been there for a few weeks that I encountered a problem. No, it wasn't a problem, it was a massive nightmare in the form of Tony Morgan, who arrived at the club with his mates, loud, brash and throwing money around. It was clear that he was doing well in the city and that he wanted everyone to know it.

And I was "lucky" to dance for him (and his friends) or at least that's what he seemed to think, in his own selfish way. And I had no way out, I had to jiggle my barely covered boobs in his face and feel his hot breath on them, move seductively around him, rub my bikini-clad ass against his leg; virtually have simulated sex with him and his friends.

I hated it! No that's not true, I loved it! No that's not right either. I was horrified both that I was lap dancing for someone I knew and that he might recognise me, but turned on for the very same reasons. Tony, judging from the size of his tip, loved it too. And best of all there was not even a spark of recognition; the excessively theatrical make-up and wigs were doing their stuff admirably.

And he came back frequently after that and often asked for me to dance for him; and always he was arrogant, loud and crude, but he never broke the rules. He repeatedly tried to persuade me to remove my rather meagre clothing, to allow him to touch me, but all I would do was to move, and tease, and flaunt and bring him to his boiling point as seductively and as quickly as I could. And I continued to dislike the arrogant sod that was Tony Morgan and I saw milking him for his money as a form of revenge.

Tony did have other girls dance for him and I heard that some did succumb to his persuasions that they dance in the nude or go further; and afterwards he dismissed and ignored them with contempt. But my refusal must have just got to him and increased his lust for me.


One Friday night in May, Tony and one of his mates turned up early to arrange something for later that evening. He explained that he wished to give another friend a belated birthday treat and that this had to be something special. To start with, he required two girls to dance with them (there would be five men) and that he wanted me to give this friend a naked dance in one of the private rooms; he would pay me very well, if I gave his friend a really good time.

The money was certainly amazingly good, but I had no intention of pampering to Tony's request, until he turned to his friend and said, full of swagger "I know that she won't do this! She's so fucking hot and I just can't get enough of her, but she just doesn't drop her knickers for anyone. I should know, I've asked her just about every time I come here and if she won't do it for me, well..... no one else has a chance".

I was incensed at his arrogance "OK" I said "I'll do it"

Tony looked surprised and his friend laughed at him, telling him "perhaps this girl is a good judge of character -- that's why you're failing!"

When they came back that evening, I was already engaged with another party so didn't see them arrive and was not one of the girls assigned to entertain the five men. In fact it was Katie who came to find me, to tell me that I was needed in one of the single rooms, since she understood that this had already been agreed with the client, at which she pointed out Tony and his remaining three friends.

"Be gentle with this one" advised Katie, "he's not like the others. He seems much quieter, less sure of himself and, well.... he appears to have been the butt of their jokes all night; so give him something nice to remember and preferably something to get him one-up on that obnoxious oaf that seems to like you a lot"

And so, with the music playing, I entered the private room.......and saw Greg, my brother, sitting there!

He had clearly been drinking and was nervous and embarrassed but excited as well he might, since I knew that his shyness had ensured he had never had a girlfriend despite his obvious interest in girls, and his eyes were avoiding my face which meant that he missed to look of shock that crossed my face.

I had been just about to back out of the room and the deal made with Tony, when I realised that I couldn't. My brother would have been humiliated; I mean what lap dancer refuses to dance with an ordinary guy? And for Greg, the humiliation would have destroyed such an introverted character, while Tony's earlier comment would have been justified; and what explanation could I give that didn't give away my identity?

All this took place within a second so, scarcely missing a step, I started to dance for my big brother. At first my movements were slightly disjointed, as my mind was still struggling with the right thing to do. OK, perhaps not "right", but at least the one that enabled Greg and I to escape with the least consequences. Soon however my months of practise took over and I started to settle into my dance.

Just within his reach I shook my hips and began to turn around anti-clockwise, wigging my G-string clad ass and bending forward as the music played, titillating and tantalising. As I turned towards him and standing between his thighs, I thrust my breasts forward to touch his face, moved and wove my magic.

And he stared at my tummy, he watched my hips roll, his eyes were mesmerised by my constantly moving body as it echoed the rhythm of the music. My touches shocked him, encouraged him, thrilled him and turned up his libido. If he looked at my face, he saw an exotic, erotic vision, enticing and enchanting him.

Beads of sweat shone on his face, and his breathing changed and caught as I pumped up his lust with my movements, his hands grasped his thighs in his desperate efforts to avoid reaching out for a touch, a taste, just some contact with the magic that engaged his visceral thoughts.

All his thoughts and concentration were on my body, following my curves from my hips to the swell of my breasts. Taking in the irregularity of my nipples, as they stood proud in my flimsy top and always watching me swirl in time to the music, feeling my ass grind against his crotch.

I too was affected. If the fear of recognition with Tony had been thrilling, then with my brother it unleashed an primal passion in me. As I danced and rubbed my body against him, I felt his cock push back against me; I saw his eyes greedily devour me; his lips reach out to caress my bikini-clad breasts. I was as hooked as he was and my previous reluctance to remove my clothing was now a need to further raise the sexual tension.

As I danced rubbing my tits in his face, I removed my top and allowed it to fall across the bridge of his nose, before its gravity assisted fall to his chest; I leaned over him, so that my nipples brushed across his forehead, his nose and over his mouth which opened to allow his tongue to flick my passing bud. And again, and again, never quite allowing him to catch me.

I sat down on his lap and felt him; hard, rock-hard pushing up towards me, telling my body that he wanted me, willing me to continue. And my body responded as I ground my hips down onto him, conscious of his smell and feel, aware of the pounding of my heart and the beat of the music. And I repeated my rhythmic movement, tormenting him, feeling him pressing against me.

And now I removed my knickers, slowly teasing him but still hiding my sex with a hand from his eager eyes. I could hear his breathing, heavy and loud but rivalling my own. I moved backwards to him, gyrating my bottom against his tented trousers that told me that he was an enthralled as I.

And now I turned to face him, my breasts up against his face obscuring his vision and my naked pussy rubbing against his groin. And more and more, I could feel an ache, a longing from deep within me that manifested itself as I could sense my pussy swell and moisten, in readiness for a mate. I could see the outside of his trousers damp from my juices and raised by his desperate anticipation.

Now my hands reached for his crotch, unzipped and released him from the constraints of his clothes, exposing his cock to my sight. Pre-cum glistened on the tip of his erection that seemed to be impossibly big, magnified in my eyes by my own desire. I saw veins standing out along its length, from the engorged head to his balls and I traced my fingers down to cup him, gently.

I turned and danced so that the cheeks of my naked bottom massaged against him, simulating the thrusts of a wished for union and raising the tempo of the night ever higher. I could feel his cock sliding against me, warm and hard; I could feel him trying to push himself against even more and I could feel myself ready, prepared.

I arched my body, so tilting my vulva to his twitching erection until I could feel him hard against my ass and as I moved imperceptibly upwards, he slipped ever closer to my swollen, lubricated pussy.

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