Perfect Exposure
The bass thumps through my ribs like a second heartbeat as we step into Nylon & Lace. The air smells like vanilla body oil and the kind of whiskey Dave drinks on a Saturday night.
My fingers tighten around his hand—not because I'm scared, but because my skin feels too hot, like I've been dipped in something electric.
Dave smirked at me, that slow, knowing curve of his mouth says, "Baptist girl, I told you, you'd like it."
I've never seen tits in real life like this. Not up close. Whoa! Free form jiggle, a delectable wobble and quiver. And nipples smeared with cherry lip gloss. Never in my life could I do that! But I love the taut, erect shine under glaring lights. So, Pink. So, Pink.
Dave squeezes my hand as I squeeze my thighs together under my short summer skirt.
"You like the nipple make-up, Imogen. I'll buy you some online."
I playfully swat his jaw.
The stage is a glossy black half-moon, and the girl on it—no, two girls, now—are all limbs and glitter, their bodies sliding against each other like they're made of the same slick, sinful stuff.
I tried hard on a Sunday pew to picture sin in Gomorrah. Whoa! I understood the attraction now.
Girl on girl is so hot. So pussy leaking hot. My panties were squelching against the vinyl seat. My tacky girly dew was near puddling under my arse cheeks.
And when the brunette got her hands tangled in the blonde's long hair, their nipples brushed with every roll of their hips. I saw their eyes sparkle, their lips wet as their tongues layered moisture. If not genuine lezzos, here were a pair of absolute bi-sluts.
I shift in my seat, thighs pressing tighter together. My hand drawn of its own kinky accord to Dave's crotch. My other hand guides his hand under my skirt.
He hits my panties like they are underwear from the washing machine before they hit the dryer. Christ, you could wring spoonfuls of my jus from them!
Dave's pecker is straining under denim and a zip. My legs are Friday night slut wide as his palm presses into my entire mound.
"Sheez, you're dripping," he murmurs, lips brushing my ear.
My pulse is a drumline between my legs.
The girls on stage share the pole, one higher, one lower, both with a leg angled to reveal winking buttholes and splayed generous pink goodies. Perfect exposure!
Dave's fingers are skimming the lace edge of my knickers, "We could go, even the alleyway. Just tell me."
I won't name what I actually craved. To be on stage, to join the two. Let one suck my nipples. The other smush my clit.
What the fuck am I doing? I'm not thinking. I'm in the immediate doing.
"WowWee!" Dave exclaims as I slide his zipper and let his pecker spring into the dim alcove of the strip joint.
I tug his thick, heavy length, and he groans when my fingers wrap around it—my pinkie tickles his balls.
"Fuck, Imogen—what did you learn in church? Babes, at least make a dive for the restrooms!"
The girls on stage are off the pole, they are grinding now, ass to pussy, their moans mixing with the music. So streamlined, so sleek, so frickin' practised. The assurance of performance, yet the alliance of sensual carnality, the tingle of forbidden skin brushing, grazing, abutting, and pushing into the repeated amorous rubs. So close to lewd public tribbing.
My clit throbs in time with the beat. I hike up my skirt, shove my knickers aside, and before Dave could say amen, I've straddled him.
"Orrghh!" I moan.
I impale myself. Raw and fast. No finesse. No slow tease. Just need.
Dave's pecker reacts. That is all I want. Keep his dick ahead of his mind and the crowded location.
His cock stretches me wide, fills me so deep. I'm so frickin' wet, the squelchy, pucky, fucky sounds of sex get louder.
I ride him like I'm trying to fuck the last twenty-four years of good Baptist girl right out of my system. I've discovered my identity, a woman of the biblical cities of the plains.
Dave's hands are gripping my hips hard, "Take what you want, you filthy little thing. Orrgh! Fuck that is good! Orrgh!"
Sweet Jesus, I'm on a pace faster than the Pony Express.
My friction is obscene, my pussy clenching around him with every bounce.
The girls on stage are kissing now, tongues deep, as I commence to cum.
Whoops, the music had stopped. The girls are bending, wiggling bare ass as they collect notes tossed and gathering their G-strings.
"Aahh! Fuck! Oohh! Yeah! Oohh!"
Too late to cover my mouth.
My back arches into Dave as I squirt—wide and high, soaking the vinyl in front of us. I watch it run in cute little channels to the carpet.
All the eyes in the club, including the two girls on stage, are upon us.
The barman sensibly calls, "Drinks, drinks, order before Cindy-Lou, on stage in ten minutes."
In the corner an old flasher closes his long coat. Hell, did he wank off to the stage or me?
The brunette on stage gives me a wink. The blonde gave a sharp thumb-up.
That's when burly rugby scrum-sized hands hit both my shoulders and Dave's in the same instance.
Big boy bouncers. Shaved skull, beef cake. Muscles that white pressed shirts couldn't hide.
"Boff of youse, over 'ere now!" from the taller one.
At six five and six-six, taller probably wasn't accurate.
Manhandled behind the side velvet curtain.
One of the mountains in black pants, arms crossed, nodded to the brick wall, "Stand and don't youse bloody well- move!"
They whisper, knuckles forming!
Oh Christ! My Dave has such a cute nose and jaw.
Six six, leans down, a fair way, I'm a petite five-two, his voice a gravelly purr; "Private room. Five 'undred."
Dave doesn't even blink. Just pull out his wallet, hands him the cash, and the next thing I know, we're ushered faster than speed dating into a long, dim hallway.
My skirt is still rucked up. Dave's zipper still undone
The room is all red velvet and mirrors, and a frickin' king-size round bed.
Six-five whispers to six six. They back slap and belly laugh.
"Sunshine, an uther five 'undred."
Whoa! Lucky plumbers like Dave fuck over their customers at an obscene hourly rate!
Six-six says with a point, "Strip off youse two, naked on the bed. And don't move!"
We undress fast.
The bouncers watch before they leave.
Dave and I huddle into a cuddle.
"Oh, My God!" I mouth, as the brunette and the blonde enter, hand in hand, breasts swaying, rhinestone G-strings high.