by Laurel Adams
Still, I'd let this go too far already. I had to stop it now. "No."
He ignored me, unzipping himself with one hand while his hand firmly fastened at the back of my neck to force me down on his cock. "I helped you get off twice. Now it's my turn."
"Stop!" I hissed, digging into his thighs, denim under my nails.
But he didn't stop. "You're going to suck me, even if I have to make you. But I don't have to make you do it, because you want to."
Oh god. That made me both afraid and ashamed. Then, there it was. He showed me the swollen purple head of his cock. It was thick and rigid and my mouth watered to taste him. "You want to," he said again, more gently, bringing it close to my lips.
Oh, I wanted to taste him so badly that it took all my energy not to slide my lips over the head of him and take him all the way to the back of my throat in one stroke. But I'd already kissed him and let him watch me masturbate—two things I could never tell my boyfriend. I was just starting to come to my senses when the stranger thrust his hips up at my face, his pre-cum smearing on my cheek.
He was right. I did want to. It was just head, I told myself. It wasn't like I was fucking a stranger. I was just sucking him off. And all at once, my resistance faded away. I relented. I just opened my mouth and let him push his cock in. He was clean tasting and hot and hard. He tasted so good that I moaned around his shaft. With my mouth still on him, I knelt in front of him on the floor. Then he draped my coat over me to keep anyone from seeing.
Truthfully, I'd lost the will to care who caught us now.
His grip tightened on my hair to the point that it hurt, guiding my head so that I would suck him just the way he wanted. He looked down at me, and as we passed a streetlight I saw his eyes lock on mine. I knew he could see me, darkness or no, with my mouth held wide open around his shaft.
He let out a quiet groan. "You're a fantastic cock-sucker."
It embarrassed me, made me angry, and excited me. He thrust into my mouth, unmindful of anything but getting off, and his doing that made me crazy. I thought about how I must look to him now. I thought about what I must seem like to him. The kind of girl he must have thought I was...the kind of girl I felt like. I couldn't help myself; I ground against his leg with my pelvis and eventually put my hand back into my panties, wanting to get off again.
He noticed, and startled. Lifting the coat up to look at me, with my mouth full of him, he asked, "This turns you on, doesn't it, baby? Having my cock in your mouth makes you want to come again." He thumped the back of his head lightly against the seat as if I had admitted something intensely pleasurable or tragic. His grip loosened on my hair and his hand stroked my cheek before it returned to the base of my neck. "How many times do you want to come tonight?"
What kind of question was that? I felt like I was on fire. It seemed that the more times I came the more times I wanted to. I was at a desperately slutty point, and at a loss for words, I didn't answer. I just sucked him. But he stopped me. "Answer my question. How many times?"
He couldn't seriously expect an answer! My cheeks flamed, though I didn't even know that I could feel more embarrassment than I already was feeling. Searching for some sort of coherent answer, when all I wanted was to get his cock back into my mouth, I said, "A lot of times."
"Ten times?" he whispered, and his cockhead so near my mouth. It felt like torture that he wouldn't let me suck it!
I gave a small nervous nod.
"Twenty?"
I looked away, feeling like a total nympho.
He leaned forward and chuckled. "Suck me."
I was so happy to have his cock head push through my lips again. I was frantic for it. Though he had a kind of controlled, refined manner, I knew that the suction of my lips was having an effect on him. He angled his hips toward my face a few times, and I could feel him pulsing in my mouth. The occasional passing light through the tinted coach windows illuminated my face for him.
The wantonness of what I was doing made it certain that I had to keep playing with myself. I loved the idea of coming with his cock in my mouth, and I rubbed myself, even as I felt him pushing a little too far into my throat, gagging me slightly. He must have seen the desperation on my face, because, he whispered, "Are you going to come for me with my cock in your mouth, you good little slut?"
I didn't have to answer, because I just started a muffled scream with my orgasm.
It was the third time I'd come in close proximity and I was getting dizzy. I let the vibrations of my scream dance up and down his shaft. And while my own orgasm was ripping through me, he grunted once, and I could feel him filling my mouth. I wanted to pull away, but his sperm blasting against my cheeks was making me come that much harder.
Plus, he wasn't going to let me pull away if I'd tried. He held my mouth tight on him, my nostrils flaring wildly for breath, until I had swallowed every bit. Then, and only then, did he let his grip on my hair loosen.
I had loved swallowing a stranger's cum and he knew it.
"Put on your coat," he told me.
I was confused, and dazed, but I was growing accustomed to listening to him. I liked listening to him. So I put my coat back on and sat up in the seat next to him.
"Now go into the bathroom at the back of the bus. Take off everything you're wearing except for your coat, and then come back here," he whispered.
My eyes grew wide and incredulous as I hissed, "No way!"
But then, with a deadly calm, he looked at me and said, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Because I'm going to give you everything you want tonight...and more."
LEARNING TO LIKE IT
How had I gotten myself into this?
Hiding in the bathroom of a strip joint, wearing a dress that showed more skin than I'd ever shown in public, my pulse raced with excitement and fear.
At nineteen, I was younger than my boyfriend and his friends. They were all in their late twenties and always joking about my inexperience. Patrick was my first serious boyfriend, and even with him, it'd been strictly missionary position with the lights out. Having been raised in a strict Asian household, even that had seemed taboo to do before marriage. In truth, I had a hard time even talking about anything sexual without blushing, which delighted my friends endlessly.
They liked to tease me—and Chad only encouraged them. So when I made a smart-assed remark that I could take whatever they dished out, their jokes about my innocence became a dare. "Think you're brave enough to join us at an adult entertainment establishment?" my boyfriend had asked. "I dare you to put a dollar bill into the g-string of a stripper."
"Sure," I'd said, envisioning Chippendale dancers ripping off faux fireman coats, but my boyfriend insisted that we go see girls instead!
The day of the big event, our friend Lanie put me into a black strapless mini-dress, black stilettos, and thigh high stockings. It was like playing dress up and seemed fun at the time. It made me feel grown up and sexy. Importantly, they weren't my clothes, so, in a way, it made me feel as if I were in a costume; as if I weren't quite myself.
I was used to seeing myself in jogging pants and a halter-top, so I barely recognized the girl I saw in the bathroom mirror now. The bright red lipstick that Lanie had picked for me stood out obscenely against my dark Asian coloring. It's not too late to back out, I thought.
The strip-club bathroom had a window and I had the absurd urge to climb out and run away. Of course, that wouldn't be smart even if I could squeeze my mini-dress clad-ass out that window and manage not to break an ankle in the stilettos. We'd come to a seedy part of town.
Maybe even the seediest in town. That had been intentional. My boyfriend said there was no point in exploitation unless it was good and smutty. We were a mixed group, and that seemed to make the girls and the patrons uncomfortable when we first arrived. But after we'd put enough money down on the table, and showed the strippers our enthusiastic support, they warmed up to us.
Lanie and Chad paid one girl so many dollar bills that she ended u
p splaying herself right in front of us at the table.
That's when it happened.
She lifted her hips, pulled her panties off, and pumped her hips up at us. She'd shaved her pubic mound and put some sparkles on it too. Vagazzling, Lanie called it.
I'd barely even looked at my own private parts in a mirror before and now this girl was less than two feet away from me, showing hers off to everyone. I admit, clutching the dollar I'd been dared to put in her g-string, I stared in fascination. Maybe I stared too hard, because, quite suddenly, the girl took her legs and threw them over my shoulders.
I gasped, trying to pull away, but my boyfriend was right behind me, his rock-hard body giving me no room for retreat. While our friends cheered, the stripper spread her pussy lips apart with her fingers and I gasped again. Nestled between the stripper's sparkly pink folds was a little ring. "That's a clit hood piercing," my boyfriend whispered in my ear, low and husky. It obviously turned him on, and I worried for the thousandth time that I was too innocent for him. I wasn't pierced anywhere; I couldn't imagine doing it…there.
I'd never seen anything like it before and I couldn't decide whether her clit-hood piercing scared me or made me want one of my own. There was something about her that was so brazen, it took my breath away. She had dark brown hair, exotic green eyes, and a long, thin body. She saw me staring at her piercing, looked right into my eyes, and held my gaze.
I felt my mouth go dry.
My friends must have paid her to single me out because it seemed as if she were dancing just for me. She gyrated so near my face that I could smell her…and she smelled good. A sudden jolt of inexplicable electricity in my body confused and embarrassed me. I turned away with an immature giggle, covering my face. But when I peeked between my fingers, she was staring at me, and she let her tongue trail a low lazy lick along her bottom lip.
"I have to—I have to go to the lady's room," I said, digging my elbow into my boyfriend's ribs to force him to let me go.
"Oh, c'mon, don't be scared," Chad said.
But at that moment, I broke free and ran toward the powder room. "You didn't even give her your dollar!" Lanie called after to me, but I just needed to get away. And that's how I found myself holed up in the bathroom, quaking…
I'm not sure how long I stood there, trying to understand my reaction to seeing the stripper's genitalia. But before I could figure it out, Lanie burst through the door, laughing, and grabbed my arm. "You coward! Get out here. Kim, c'mon. Chad bought you a lap dance."
"A what?" I asked, my eyes widening.
It's not that I didn't know what a lap dance was; it's just that I'd never heard of a girl giving a lap dance to another girl. Plus, I was trying to buy time to get my shit together. My thighs were shaking, and I was sure that I wouldn't be able to hide how excited I was. I'd agreed to this because…because I didn't want to always be the young, inexperienced girl in the crowd. The dare had sounded like titillating fun. I hadn't expected to be aroused, and certainly not so aroused that I was afraid to go anywhere near that stripper again.
"A lap dance," Lanie said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That girl liked you. She gave us a discount. C'mon. It'll be fun. You said you wanted to experience everything. Well, this is your chance!"
Lanie yanked hard on my arm and I was on those ridiculously high stiletto heels, so if I didn't follow her, I was sure I'd topple over. Or at least, that was the excuse I told myself.
I didn't remember telling Lanie that I wanted to experience everything, but at that moment, I did. The room was filled with smoke and ogling men. I felt like my blood was boiling, but I almost turned around and ran right back into the bathroom when I saw my boyfriend crook a finger at me. Chad was grinning from next to where they expected me to sit.
In the back of the room, where some men were getting lap dances from other strippers, there was a stage. A chair had been placed on the stage and a light too. If that's where they wanted me to sit, they had to be kidding! "Oh, god, I can't do this," I whispered as Lanie pushed me into the chair.
Meanwhile ,my friends all started hooting and making cat-calls. The men in the crowd were watching me, and I realized that they had a hunger in their eyes. Grown up, adult, all-male hunger. I knew I looked even younger than I was, and so I must have seemed unattainable to them. They looked like they'd know just what to do with me, and I had to look away because that turned me on too.
The stripper came close, leaning over me with a grin. "It's okay if you're nervous. I'm not gonna hurt you. My name is Jenny. What's yours?"
Jenny. I liked that name. I liked more the way her hands soothingly traveled up and down my arms. It made me shiver. "I'm Kim."
"You're really sexy, Kim," she said.
I blushed. I'd never actually thought that another girl might think I was sexy or that I might think the same thing about her. I'd only ever been attracted to boys my whole life long, so none of this made sense. Besides, there were too many people watching me. My stomach was tightening with nerves. I could see my friends all gathered in the corner with my boyfriend, slapping him on the back, and raising impatient drinks in my honor.
Jenny scolded."Hey, give her a minute!"
Her fingers laced into my hair. I felt like a frightened animal, and she was coaxing me into calm. "I was hoping someone would buy a lap-dance for you. In fact, I suggested it."
"Why?" I asked in a whisper.
"It's not often I see a pretty girl in here. I like girls. I like girls a lot. And I'd really love it if you'd let me dance for you."
The stripper couldn't have been that much older than I was, but she was obviously far more experienced. Her tone was silky and the lust in her eye—real or imagined—made me feel as if the room was a million degrees. Maybe it was just my skin.
I could only nod.
When the song started, Jenny straddled my legs and slowly ran her hands through my straight black hair. She gyrated her hips slowly, and I watched her impossibly round and upturned breasts brush against my own. I sucked in breath at the sight. She pulled her bra cups down so that her hardened burgundy nipples were visible, and then pressed them against my chest. I felt as if I burned everywhere her nipples traced. For the briefest moment, I even wanted her to pull my dress down so that our nipples could touch, skin on skin. But even if I could've admitted that I wanted that, I had no power of voice.
"Put your hands on my waist," Jenny told me, with a smile.
I whimpered, mesmerized, I obeyed.
She had a way of making things just seem easier. I started feeling the music, which urged me to move to the beat. My own thighs were trapped between Jenny's and the way she danced against me caused my dress to ride up my thighs. Then, when the tops of my stockings became visible, I heard a collective groan from the crowd. I suddenly remembered that everyone was watching. My friends. My boyfriend. Even the men who were getting lap dances of their own were focused on Jenny and me…
The bare insides of her legs brushed the bare outsides of mine. Hers were soft, and satiny. My head starting spinning, and the heat between my legs searing and unbearable. She was grinding and grinding down on me, our hips meeting more frequently. I could hear my heartbeat rushing in my ears nearly drowning out the cheers of my friends.
Jenny was so soft, and when her long dark hair swept across my bare shoulders, I was enraptured. I wanted to feel her softly sliding on me everywhere. I wanted to see her pretty sparkling pussy again… and give it a kiss. My hands tightened on her hips at the forbidden thought and Jenny's breathing speed up. She pressed down on me so that her pelvis pressed on mine, giving a little sweet relief while making the hungry desire even stronger.
"Angle your pussy up towards me," Jenny said, kissing my neck. The wetness of her kiss on my throat sent another electric jolt of arousal through me. I knew I'd have to spread my legs to angle the way she wanted me to, but I was too desperate now to worry about who in the audience might see my panties. Meanwhile, Jenny sucked on my neck, biting soft
ly to guide me. She was making the prettiest little noises that I'd ever heard, so I let my thighs separate and arched my hips towards her.
I was rewarded by her groan and the searing heat of her wet crotch against my own. Only my panties kept our pussies from touching, and it seemed to frustrate her, because she gripped me and pushed so hard that I could feel the little ring on her clit digging into my own.
That made me crazy. It put pressure on that hardening nub of my own clit that I couldn't escape. I started to moan, softly, feeling her hard nipples scraping past mine through my dress. Our pussies mashed against one another in an aching rhythm, and the pleasure rushed up on me before I could stop it. I was so close.
She was, too. The music had stopped, but Jenny's hips kept pumping. "Keep pushing," she whispered. "Keep fucking me, Kim. You're gonna make me come all over your sweet pantied pussy."
I think it was the dirty talk that did it. Usually, I had some warning before my own orgasms. Not this time. I threw my head back, bit my lip, and writhed underneath her as my own climax overtook me. I saw stars behind my eyelids. My thighs stiffened and I lifted my ass off the seat to press harder against her while I came, that little clit-ring of hers bringing me off in front of everyone in the club!
When I went off, so did she, crying out. Unashamed for anyone to see the flush that swept pink over her lovely skin. Afterwards, the two of us just sat there panting, entangled on the chair. With a shy smile, I took the dollar in my hand and tucked it into Jenny's panties while people whistled and cheered. It wasn't just my boyfriend or the group of friends. The whole club applauded.
Jenny stood me up, straightened out my clothes, and looked as if she were about to say something, but was interrupted by an older gentleman with steel gray hair. He walked up to us and handed me a five-dollar bill. "You were hot as hell, honey," he told me.
