Chapter One
My hands gripped on to his as I led him down the hall, and around the corner to one of the private rooms. The walk wasn’t long, but I always drew it out, prolonging the evitable on my part, while driving him crazy with anticipation of what was to come. There was something about my ass jiggling that incited even the shyest customers I encountered. He was no different when I approached his table ready to run game.
I watched him as I made my rounds covering the room, getting free drinks and giving lap dances along the way. I was popular among the regulars–a favorite for a few. Satisfying them kept the money rolling, especially on slow nights when gullible newbies failed to cross the threshold. I knew none of the girls would approach him. He gave off the scent of a cop and appeared like an undercover rookie. Unlike the others, I didn’t do the illegal shit in the back. I might’ve been a dancer in a seedy strip club, but I wasn’t a hoe–pussy for sale.
“Hey Harry,” I said, walking to the bar. “What’s table eight drinking?”
He looked towards the guy I was preparing to attack. “The cop?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Rum and coke,” he answered.
“Do me a favor and make me one of those.” I looked at my mark, contemplating the perfect approach.
“I don’t know, Reese. The last thing we need is to get busted.”
I looked into his eyes. “Trust me.”
“Okay.” He grabbed a glass. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”
I did with me in the club, outside was a different story.
“Thanks,” I said, picking up the drink.
I turned around and headed towards table eight. Amidst my walk to him, my stride slowed, the bounce in my step lessened and the toughness a stripper had to possess–softened.
“You look like you could use another one,” I said, placing the glass next to a half-empty drink. “You know. To loosen up. Stop looking like a cop. He looked himself over. “That’s why no one’s approaching you.”
“You did.” He picked up his drink and took a sip.
“I’m not afraid of cops.” I sat down next to him. “Besides, I know when I see a first timer.”
His eyes flashed down and back up at me. “Is it that obvious?”
I nodded. “But no worries. Nothing to be ashamed about. Strip clubs are not for everyone.” I smiled and extended my hand. “I’m Reese.”
“Ryan,” he replied, shaking my hand.
I learned early on how space, boundaries and a understanding voice was all I needed to get whatever I wanted from hesitant customers.
“So Ryan…would you like a dance?” I asked.
He looked around the club seeing girls on stage and on laps, and customers enjoying both. “No, thanks.”
I leaned back, resting my back against the cushion. “Are you sure?” His eyes fells on my body as I crossed my legs. “We can always go to a private room.”
His attention remained on my legs longer for what it usually took to close a deal before raising up. “How much?”
I placed my hand on his thigh. “Oh I’m sure you can afford it.”
A strip club was no place for a naïve 20-something Caucasian man. I assumed he was in town for a convention and staying at the hotel down the street. We saw many of those types, ready to spend their money and have the black girl experience before returning to their suburban lives. Usually, they came in groups, conservatively dressed and wide-eyed white boy rowdy. They were easy marks where we doubled what the average man would pay for the same services. With all their book smarts, they were too ignorant for the streets.
This one came into the club alone, sat at a table and nursed a single drink for an hour and half. His eyes watched the show, hands stayed on the table and his back barely touched the cushioned seat. Not to mention all the buttons were fastened on his shirt. It was obvious he needed to pull the stick out of his ass. He came to the right place, only it’d take more than watching girls popping their pussies on stage. Some needed the girlfriend experience, more of a personal touch for their eyes only.
The private rooms were like the front minus the pole and the feeling everyone was watching you get off unless you were into that shit. Most girls were, fantasizing before taking the stage how many dicks would harden from their show. I didn’t mind either way if the money was right. My pussy didn’t moisten until I made physical contact–riding on a lap or hands feeling me up. After working the room and myself, I was more than ready to give this guy a lap dance to remember.
“Have a seat,” I said, letting go his hand and closing the door.
He sat on the couch with the same posture he had in the booth. I walked over to him, straddled him and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “That’s better.” I smiled. “So tell me, Ryan. What brought you here?”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. He cleared his throat. “IT leadership convention. My colleague brought his wife. So I was just wandering around and here I am.”
“No girlfriend to bring with you?” I asked. My arms unraveled. He shook his head. “If you’re looking to pay to play, I’m not that girl. I just dance.”
“I-I would never suggest you would…”
I looked into his hazel eyes. “I believe you.” There was something cute about his embarrassment–refreshing not to be around someone who knew the game as well as I did. My hands slid down his chest, feeling hard muscles, stopped dead center and pushed him back. “Relax.”
“I’m trying to,” he replied.
There were two types of customers–those who wanted a show and those who needed an experience. I knew since his arrival which one he’d receive. “Close your eyes.”
My body began to roll, hand gripped his neck and my back arched. Slow at first–creating my own tempo. Side to side, angling just right to feel his dick jump and begin to harden with each pass.
His body finally relaxed as moans escaped his mouth, turning me on even more. His hand crept up my thighs, feeling the curves of my hips and stopped where my waist began. My head fell back and my body picked up the pace. In my mind, his dick was out and I was riding the fuck out of him. Damn, rang in my ears. It had been so long since I fucked.
I brought my body closer to him. My rolls became shorter. My tits brushed against his chest and nipples pressed through the fabric of my bra. His hands ran the length on my back–gliding down it’s natural slope and around my ass. The more I moved, the more he was getting comfortable with touching me, only not in the spots where I needed him.
I stopped. His eyes popped open and arms fell. “Enjoying the dance?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly.
“Can you handle more or should I stop?”
“Keep going.”
I stood up and swayed my hips. His eyes didn’t leave my body, watching as my hands rose to my tits and teasing each nipple. Oh how I wished they could be sucked. My pussy creamed from the mere thought of it and my teeth caught my bottom lip. I briefly closed my eyes, feeling waves of pleasure ripple through me.
I turned around, shook my ass in his face and sat on his lap. His dick tented his pants and felt even more pronounced than before. My hips began to whine, pressing into him. I leaned back and rested against his chest. I grabbed his hands, placing them on my covered tits. From the sounds he was making, it must’ve been a long time since he felt a woman.
I closed my eyes and sped up my grind. My hand sunk to my pussy, touching the dampness all this dry humping created and his grip tightened on my tits. A long groan came from within me. I only wished I could get off.
Chapter Two
The door slammed into the wall as we came into the apartment. At three o’clock in the morning, I’d hear a lot of shit from my neighbors in the morning, but at this moment I didn’t care. This was the first time in a long time I was going to quench the itch my pussy needed scratched.
For the past three nights I found my ass sitting at a dirty table in a shady diner watching the sunrise. The club closed at two and going home to an empty apartment became less and less appealing, especially when it was a good night. In the past, I couldn’t get home fast enough to ride my boyfriend’s dick. After a string of lap dancing, I left the club with a fat purse and wet pussy. Those were the best fucks. Spending all night dry humping dicks, thinking about what waited for me at the end of the night. And he was more than willing to give me a good dickin’, despite having to leave for work in a few hours.
It had been six months since I threw him out for knocking up some thot. At first, anger filled my nights, where sleeping was the last thing I wanted to do. When I forced myself, all I did was toss and turn. Then loneliness took anger’s place. I started missing the little things he did for me besides sex. How he would wake up to welcome me home and share our day before giving me the dick or going back to sleep. Dinner in the microwave waiting to be zapped and eaten–always my favorites. What I missed the most was lying in bed and hearing him breath. His cadence was the only things that could put me to sleep.
I didn’t hookup with men from the club nor sought out community dick available to every pussy. I took matters into my own hands–literary–watching porn and chasing an orgasm that never came. Tonight was different, taking care of myself wasn’t going to get it. I needed something other than my fingers or dildo. A throbbing dick deep in my pussy, ready to please every inch of it. Ryan was the lucky fuck who got to complete his fantasy and fuck a black girl.
The second the idea of fucking him came into my thoughts, I ended the lap dance and asked if he wanted a drink back at my place. Though farther than the hotel he was staying at, my place eliminated the thotness to fucking a guy I truly didn’t know. Besides, if him and I went back to his room, they’d think I sold pussy and I didn’t want to explain myself to the cops.
I pushed him on the couch and jumped on him. My skirt rolled up exposing my bare pussy. His hands glided down shirt, releasing buttons one by one. My lips meet his and the urgency they possessed. He pulled back, ending the kiss and yanked his shirt off. I was right–solid granite. My hands slid down his chest feeling the contours of his abs. My tongue followed, painting a trail below.
I pulled my top over my head and unhooked my bra, flinging it to the floor. His hands went to my tits, cupping their girth before going to one. His tongue touched my nipple and sent chills through my body. My pussy grew wetter and ready for some much needed attention.
My head fell back as a moan released into the air. I almost forgot what it felt like to have a man’s mouth on my tit. His tongue teased my nipple and lips engulfed the hardened nub. The harder he sucked, the more I wanted him in me. My hand dropped between my legs and began rubbing my pussy.
He pushed me onto the couch besides him and dove down, planting his face between my legs. His breath hummed on my clit, sending me into a tizzy. His fingers rubbed the sensitive spot before separating my folds and his tongue took a taste, licking the whole length of my pussy. For someone so timid earlier, it surprised me how forceful he was and it excited me to experience both sides of him.
His laps increased on my clit, having me purr like a kitten. My hands rose to my tits and fingers pinched my nipples. My back arched and hips thrusted up, bumping his face with my pussy. I kept bucking, meeting his tongue. “Suck it,” I cried out. Feeling his lips clamp down on my clit and the suction he created with his mouth, pushed me towards the ecstasy I needed. My hand rested on the back of his head as I rode his face. He kept on sucking while my body quivered and head thrashed.
He pulled back, unbuttoned his khakis and zipped down his zipper. As he stripped, I stretched my skirt over my butt and down my legs, kicking the fabric away. I spread my legs wide and waited, playing with my pussy. When he was naked, he stood there and watched. I slid my middle finger in me and began fucking myself. I was sooooo wet. “What are you waiting for?” I asked with a devilish smile.
“You look so fucking sexy,” he replied, getting on the couch and positioning himself.
He thrusted forward and slammed the full length of his dick into my pussy. We both expelled a load moan. He stayed still for a minute. While I had bigger dicks–definitely longer–his thickness was something I had to adjust to before he continued. When he did, I laid there and allowed him to fuck me before his thrusts were met. It felt so good to have dick again.
I pushed him off me and got on my knees. His tempo was fast and furious, and I knew if he kept it up, he’d blow. As much as I wanted to be fucked, I wanted to wrap my lips around a shaft. Nothing tasted better to me than my pussy on a dick I was sucking.
I dragged my tongue along the underside of the head, encircled it circumference and then engulfed the tip. My head began to bob, taking what I could fit into my mouth–deep. Any other time, I don’t think I’d try to deep throat this stump. But since I had no intentions of seeing this guy again or his coke bottle dick, I wanted to feel his girth in every possible compacity.
Pulling away from his dick, I straddled him and impaled myself. His dick felt even thicker and went further in. His hands grabbed my tits and I began to ride. He held on tight as I slid myself up and down, speeding up and shortening the strokes. I was ready to feel his cum fill me and from his facial expressions, so was he.
I grinded my pussy on his dick. His hands dropped from my tits and held on to my waist, urging me forward. His dick hit my g-spot, transforming me into a speed junkie, ready to get that nut. It didn’t take long for the building tension to overtake me, taking no prisoners in its wrath. I bucked harder and faster than his guidance and my pussy clamped down.
“Oh shit,” he exclaimed, cumming.