stirring in the strip club

She said her name was Angel but I really didn’t care. Her cleavage was incredible and although she looked great in lingerie, I wanted to see her naked. After flirting for ten minutes she asked for $50, which I gladly paid, and then led me into a dimly lit private room with an old leather couch.

She was obviously horny when she told me that it was against the rules to touch her. Her eyes glazed and her chest heaved so I knew she wanted me to, I just wasn’t really supposed to. I told her I understood perfectly, she smiled so devilishly and began to undress a meter in front of me.

She swayed and rolled her hips, coming closer and closer to me, then got on her knees right in between my legs and slid off her bra. She leaned into me, pressing her soft breasts hard against my chest. I could smell vanilla on her skin, coconut in her hair and young, hot blood. My jeans grew uncomfortably tight. She noticed and stood up, turning her back on me. Slowly she eased her g-string all the way down to her ankles, never bending her knees at all. What a perfect sight, her bent over so close to me. She was just waiting for it, for me to touch her.

So I reached out and grazed my fingers between her legs. I didn’t get the reaction I had hoped for. She spun around in a rage and smacked me hard in the mouth, yelling at me, saying I was disgusting. What a fucking bitch! She was practically begging me for it. Two seconds later security grabbed me by the shirt, choking me and dragged me to the exit.  He punched me in the face, breaking my nose and knocking me to the pavement. I went to wipe the blood away and smelled her on my fingers. I laughed.

It was worth it.

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8 responses to “stirring in the strip club

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