After Hours Party 1

Tracy had approached me during my Tuesday shift last week, "Kat, Aaron is putting together an after hours party a week from Saturday for some of his friends in investment banking. Seems one of the group is getting out of minimum security after eighteen months for money laundering. They want to throw him a "Freedom Party" with five dancers, a full bar and go for no more than three additional hours. He specifically asked if you would be one of the dancers because you know how which dancers would be good at such a party and how to keep the party lively."

"You forgot the important part."

"$500 for being there plus any tips you earn."

I had said "OK" before talking to Dave, my significant other for four years. I think that pissed him off. He was tight lipped all week and it was making me mad. He mopped around and acted hurt like a little boy. This gig wasn't anything new. He wasn't the jealous type and had accepted my stripping long ago. I thought he would be pleased, we need the money with home remodeling, kids' dental bills, me getting fewer hours because of the glut of dancers and our home mortgage payment going up again. Also, this party is with known bartenders at a known location. Still he knows how out of control a private party can get. The stress of life, work, bills and the bad economy were getting to both of us. We haven't made enough time for each other in a long while.

The regular shift on Saturday was slow again. Outside it was rainy; inside it was a poor moneymaker. After the doors were closed early at mid-night, there were twenty guys, five dancers and two bartenders. The busiest we had been all day.

Aaron was getting everyone settled with drinks and trying to get the party off to a good start. I had been dancing at this club for three years and known him for all of them. His confident air, being near sixty and his never-ending supply of twenties were hard to resist for all the dancers. He got more "benefits" than most of the regulars. He was usually fun and entertaining but I was still angry because of Dave and really pounced when Aaron came over and rather fatherly said, "Kat, tonight please don't feel any pressure to go farther than you are comfortable with. Most of the guys are nerdy, successful financial types - married and not players. But you might want to stay clear of ......."

"Damn, Aaron, you know me. I don't need you telling me how to do my job."

"Sorry, Kat. I forgot my place. I will keep my mouth shut."

The demands of the "for bragging rights" loud pool game spilled into our conversation and Aaron was whisked away. I wasn't even curious about what his warning was going to be. I could handle men. I had seen them all – cheaters, drunks, smelly field hands, perverts, hot guys, virgins, shy ones and the "god's gifts to women." I've had them cum in their pants, beg to see me outside of the bar, bring me gifts and tell me the most intimate details of their lives. I could play the verbal game, stay above it all and make it fun. Isn't that why Aaron wanted me here?

Something new was happening at the pool table. A crowd was forming. Even so, one big handsome man was sitting alone on a stool near the unused stage. I knew I looked good in my sequined bra-like top, see-through skirt and "fuck me heels." As I approached him, his steel gray eyes started at my feet and slowly moved up examining every inch of me until they settled, locked with mine. My last steps were fast and unsteady as I tried to avoid a man rushing toward the pool table's show. I stumbled. My hip fell between the handsome man's open knees and pressed into his strong thigh. He was bigger than I thought, maybe six three, 220 pounds, brown hair, v- waisted, mid-forties and he didn't have any hair on his chest under his nearly open shirt.

I stood, my face even with his, "Hi, I'm Kat."

He leaned slightly forward, drawing me into his eyes deeper and deeper. He never blinked; I could feel the heat from his body and smell his scent. His head tilted, his breath was sweet and he kissed me lightly on the lips. A little shutter went through me. His lips left mine far too quickly. "Nice to meet you Kat." I was speechless for too long a moment.

He did not tell me his name. His hands were strong and a little rough when they closed on the bare skin on my sides. He turned me easily and I felt my hip rake across his cock.

"Kat, let's go see what the commotion is."

How could he be walking so close beside me? Why was my heart racing? Why did I nestle my ass back into him when we stopped to watch?

A big hand reached around me, settling flatly on my stomach and pulling me tighter into an unmistakably growing large bulge.

The show was a good one. Pixie, our tiny talented contortionist dancer, was standing on the pool table, completely nude with one foot on either side of Aaron's head as he lay flat, facing up. She was facing toward his feet. Slowly, with straight legs, she leaned forward until her head was near her ankles and she kissed him on the lips. The men were all trying to stand behind her so they could see her pussy and ass spread lewdly open. Pixie had her hair in pigtails and her cute child-like face was adorned with make-up freckles. She stood up, hung her finger in her mouth and looked very shy and very naughty as she squatted, letting Aaron spread her pussy's lips with his face and then lick at her shinny slit.

The show was hot; I had almost forgotten the hardening cock that I was rubbing into my ass crack. Pixie leaned forward onto all fours and closed her lips over the obvious tip of Aaron's cock that was straining against his pants. She lowered her hips and Aaron began to suck at her clit. Her squeal might have been faked but there was no doubt that she was in heaven as an exhibitionist and that she was holding her audience's attention.

Beside the unused stage, there was a second stage with a pole behind the pool table. Two nude blonde twin dancers were hugging and kissing with the pole trapped between them and one leg from each wrapped around the other. Without the pole, their cunts would be rubbing together. They knew what they were doing. They had done this before, for fun, without an audience.

My ass cheeks are usually cold when I'm at the bar, but not today. The muscular, hot body pressed into my back and its rigid cock had me hot today.

Strong hands guided me away, "Come back to the stage and dance for me."

The action was on the other side of the bar, so the lights were off at our rack.

Still the big man opened his shirt and sat in a chair close to the stage and craned his face upward to see my eyes as I stripped for him. I wanted him to see my nude breasts and marvel at how tiny my bald pussy's lips were and how my disinterested tight cunt hid between my long legs. I had danced for so long, I seldom got wet and never excited. But he did not look at my body. I wanted control. I knew I could make him.

I flashed my pussy, presented my ass doggie-style and coyly looked back at him. Still he only looked at my eyes. Finally, I squatted in front of him, licked my finger and rubbed circles on my clit. I was wet. He still looked into my eyes. I was uncomfortable.

The stage is a little taller than table height and it has a shiny black, cold surface. I set my hot buns down on the stage, my legs dangling off the edge and then I slipped down his naked chest onto his lap. He was only half hard. I ground into him. No apparent reaction, so I scooted onto the stage again, lay on my back, pulled my knees wide to spread my lips, knowing that his eyes would have to move where I directed.

The big man shocked me by standing with his back to the crowd and unceremoniously pushing a finger into my wet pussy. I knew I was supposed to object and I think I started to move away but his head tilted and his eyes bore into mine. He jerked his head upward once. I knew it was an order to stretch my hands way above my head. He didn't care that my body was on the cold floor. He looked into my eyes, haunting me, commanding me, daring me to resist. His other hand closed over my right breast and his fingers rolled my nipple. My hips were moving on their own, churning up against what was now two thick invaders causing slurping noises as my wetness spread around my thighs and belly.

My eyes left his, looked at the dark ceiling and almost closed. His magic fingers pulled out of my body. I wanted them back, but he had not touched me to bring me pleasure. I heard his belt buckle and his zipper and I felt his cock's head spread my lips and push deliciously sliding a few inches inside of me. He pulled out a little and pushed again hitting my g-spot, raking across it and sinking into my belly until our pubic bones clashed and my body jarred from his power. Stroke after delightful stroke slid in and out and in again. Each time he stretched into me the pleasure built, but it was incidental to his purpose. Usually, I'm slow to cum, but I was almost there when he stopped. His strong right hand closed behind my neck and pulled me into a sitting position with his cock still in me. His other hand cupped my ass and lifted me still impaled on his rod. He stepped back and sat down in his chair. My weight drove his shaft deep inside at a wonderfully different angle.

The hand on my neck just tangled into my long red hair and pulled my head back. When my mouth did not open he pulled harder. I never kiss with my heart or my soul at the club. Not even a French Kiss. It is one thing, I hold out. I wasn't going to give in this time either. His lips found my neck and began to kiss, lick and nibble as his hips moved ever so slightly, rubbing his slippery shaft teasingly over my clit and into my hungry cunt. When I exhaled; he was ready, he took my mouth, slipping his tongue into me, tasting everything he wanted to taste – my lips, my tongue, the inside of my cheeks. It wasn't fair, I wanted to taste too. Another breath rushed from my lungs and he took that too, inhaling it deep into his lungs and living on it.

His big strong hands spread across my ass, pulled hard and forced me to steadily thrust, driving his cock deeper. I hated him for blatantly using me, for knowing I loved how his cock slipped across my clit and for knowing I was going to cum. Against my will, my tongue ventured out to taste him. He sucked it. Licked at it, challenging me to kiss him back. I fought for my rule but soon surrendered to sucking his tongue and kissing his exciting lips. He rocked my hips rocked faster, torturing my clit. It was too good, my mind screamed for me to resist. I tried, but he used even more force to work my ass rhythmically, using my body to masturbate himself. My cunt began to betray me. It began to suck his cock. My inner lips distended when he pushed me away and then were pushed back inside when he deliciously and slowly pulled me back onto his shaft. I had never been fucked in the bar before, never in front of so many people and never in front of the people I work with. I had to stop. Maybe they were not watching. But I was being used, not doing anything and it felt so good.

He knew I was thinking and not fully with him. That irritated him; he sat perfectly still. I was still. His fingers closed over my left nipple and he pulled it toward him. I remained motionless. Again he pulled but this time he squeezed lightly. He was tugging in time with how he had used me before. I knew what he wanted but I didn't give in. He lowered his head and sucked my earlobe and kissed the nape of my neck. Still I fought. He sunk his teeth into my shoulder and pinched my nipple sharply. I gasped in pain. He ordered, "Fuck me."

My hips began to thrust. I had not willed them to do so. They just did. I wanted to stop but he would not let me. He said nothing. He was watching my face again, enjoying my struggle. I wanted to take control back from him but my body would not stop and my breathing became more and more ragged. I hated what I was doing, getting closer and closer. He had won.

"Cum for me, Kat."

For some unknown reason, his permission meant everything at that moment. I thought, "He must be ready." I was glad; soon, I could run away to safety again.

"Suck my tongue."

I did. I came. He did not. My clit was almost too sensitive but I did not tell him. He would not care. I was his to use now. My body had one purpose. The rest of the world no longer mattered.

He stood, lifting me easily. My cunt was still spasming around his hard dick. He laid me down on the cold stage again, pulled out of my body and rolled me over. I felt hollow and empty. My feet barely touched the floor. I expected him to spread my legs, but he didn't have to, they opened for him. My pussy's lips had stuck together from their wetness. I felt them pop open again; a trickle of my own cum ran out and dropped onto the stage.

He slipped easily back into me. He went deeper into my body this way. Much deeper. He spread the cheeks of my ass and thrust again. The tip of his cock pushed and stretched at the mouth of my cervix. I recoiled so he grabbed my hair and thrust harder. There was no doubt I was being taken and there was no doubt that my body would give everything to him. It had to; he commanded it to. I had not come down from my last climax so the next one was on me quickly. When I began to spasm, his strokes grew slower and slower - holding me on the edge. I wanted to tell him to go faster but I knew he would do what he wanted. A word almost escaped me, but his hand tightened, pulling my hair even harder. Only moans of pleasure and frustration came from my body and lips. One heart beat before madness, he slammed into me with such force that my thighs recoiled in pain from being driven into the edge of the stage. Instead of complaint, I screamed, "Yes, damn you, do it again." He did. Time and again.

I came and could not stop cuming. My arms and hands curled under me, my hips rolled higher, almost like I was trying to get into a fetal position to protect myself from his power, the pleasure and my loss of control. But I was stuck on his cock. My body had surrendered to him, his thrusting shaft and those knowing eyes. I had no thoughts, no ideas, no words. I was trying to protect myself from him but I was filled with animal lust. I was leaking around his cock with every thrust, I could smell my desire. The bastard slowed again and a cry of desperation escaped my lips. His hand left my hair and his nails scrapped down my back. With one hand grasping each of my hips he began long madding jarring strokes into my body. Pressing my g-spot and torturing my womb with every thrust. My body was screaming, sweating and begging. I could not ask, only hope that he would give me the release I needed.

"Make her suck me dry, Kat."

Every muscle in my body tightened, wanting his cum. My cunt pulled in on itself. For a brief second I knew my body had defeated him but then my orgasm blotted out all my thoughts. My belly did suck, I could feel it nurse in time with each pulse of his hard cock. For the first time I actually felt a man's hot liquid spurt into me. A female voice screamed, "Yes" and my lack of breath began to take its toll. The harder my body sucked him, the harder I came. I could not breathe. I struggled to stop, but I couldn't and I climaxed even harder. Again, someone screamed, "Yes" and then everything was dark, quiet, without thought. There was complete rest and peace.

When my eyes opened again, I was surprised that I was breathing and alive. A softening cock was still inside me. It did not seem to be attached to a man. I heard some distant, knowing words,

"Your body was made to fuck, to please and to be pleased. It is magnificent. Next time, you will surrender your lips, mind and soul to me. You will not fight. Then your body will soar and show you beauty like you have never known. I will enjoy seeing you fly and I will enjoy draining my balls into your belly when you do."

To me those crude words were beautiful. I did not move. My legs remained wide spread when he slipped out me. Something soft and dry was pushed tightly between the gaping lips of my well-used pussy. It felt warm and nice. I must have dozed off for a while. When I awoke, the bartenders were stacking the chairs onto the tables. Except for them, the bar was empty. My breasts were flattened against the cold stage and I felt exposed and vernable. It hurt when I pulled the dry handkerchief from between my legs. It was glued to me with his cum. Quite a few hundred-dollar bills spilled out. They didn't seem so important but I gathered them up along with my clothes and stumbled into the dressing room.

I dressed, thinking about how I wanted to sleep for days. I don't remember the drive home. I remember my body feeling satisfied. I remember thinking, "He did not ask my real name, request my phone number or my address, inquire about my family - three kids and a man. He did not ask my hobbies, what foods I like or when I would work again."

When I parked in front of my house, I smiled. I knew I had been good for him. I knew he would be there to take me again and I knew I would surrender just to feel his confidence and power again.