Fantasies of You

Chapter Six Take It Off, Baby, Take It All Off

"Whew, is it me or is it getting awfully warm in here?"

"Oh, I think it must be you, sweetie," I answer, hardly able to cover my grin nor the bead of sweat that has formed on my brow.

"I think we should go somewhere and cool off – you know, somewhere where we can take our clothes off."

"Outside, maybe?"

"Gee, that would be fun. Wouldn't you like to just stick it in me right now and ride me until you cum?"

"Stick what in you?"

"Oh you silly. Your cock, sweetie," you say in a hoarse whisper. You lean towards me, eyes blazing with desire, and enunciate each word slowly. "Your Hard Stiff Cock in My Wet Slippery Cunt – right now in the parking lot."

"That sounds like a fabulous idea but I'm not finished telling you're my fantasies yet. Perhaps I still have some better ideas about how we should finish the evening."

"Do tell then. We've been indoors and outdoors and just about everywhere else. What else do you want to do?"

"Oh, I want to explore that exhibitionist side of you some more. I believe what you said earlier about not wanting to perform for anyone else, but would you perform for me?"

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. This has been one of my oldest fantasies."

"You'd better explain what you want me to do then."

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When I was much younger I used to enjoy going to strip shows. Done properly, I think it is highly erotic to watch an attractive woman seductively take off all her clothing with the apparent purpose – even if it is only make believe – of making herself ready for you.

I've seen some very good strippers, including one who was older than the average with a body that had begun to sag. But she knew all the moves and when she was finished I'm sure there wasn't a guy in the place who wasn't turned on. She had style, which for her meant slow and easy.

Anyway I eventually got bored with strip clubs because most of the women today aren't very good dancers and are usually too stoned to care anyway. Besides one pussy is pretty much the same as the next one when they belong to people you don't care anything for.

But I think a strip show from a lover would be a tremendous aphrodisiac, although I've never had the experience.

Tonight is going to be different. It's my birthday and I've asked for only one thing – you.

As I drive to your place I'm keen to discover how you'll interpret my request. You greet me at the door dressed for dinner – your short black party dress that shows your legs and breasts to advantage and black spiky heels. Underneath, I'm guessing, you're wearing a strapless bra and black silk thongs, nylons and garter belt. I hope this time you've put your panties over the garter belt – for some reason you don't usually like to do this – so that I can slip your panties off somewhere along the line without taking off your nylons. I find that quite a turn on.

"You look stunning, babe," I tell you as we kiss and grope on the landing inside your front door. "Where are we going for dinner."

You lead me into the living room before answering. "We're not going out, sweetie. I want you to sit right there on the couch and make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

You disappear iinto the kitchen and I take in the room, which is sort of different. No lights are on. Just candles, everywhere. The pine chest, which is usually right in front of the couch, is in the centre of the room. There's another small table beside the couch with a big ashtray in the middle. Odd, too, there's no music playing.

You return bearing a large crystal glass of ice and single malt Scotch and a cigar.

"I wasn't sure at first how you meant 'me' for your birthday," you say as you stand in front of me. "But eventually I decided you meant it very literally and so (and you pause and do a slow pirouette) here is your present. However, I want you to enjoy this drink and this cigar while I unwrap your present for you and then you can do with me whatever you wish."

You hand me the drink and cigar and a lighter you had in your hand as well. You watch closely as I light the cigar and taste my drink.

"Is everything to you satisfaction?"

"Oh yes, please continue."

You move to the CD player and flick it on. A jazzy piece by Diane Kroll begins to play. Then you step up onto the pine box and stand there facing me, listening to the music. Then you begin gently sway to the beat. Before the piece is half finished I'm watching a very solo, seductive dance on the pine box in front of me that is every bit as good – no, better – than anything I've ever seen before. I can already feel my cock tingling and starting to grow.

You are so good, in fact, I totally mesmerized and when the first song ends you have to remind me I'm allowed drink and smoke.

The music begins again, a number slower and sexier than the one previous. You find the beat and begin to sway again. As you do you reach back and, bit by bit, ease the zipper of your dress to the bottom. As the song reaches its final seconds you shift the dress off your shoulders. It slips to your waist and you push it down over your hips. It pools at your feet as the song ends.

This time I remember my strip club manners and applaud vigorously. You smile and kick the dress toward me. You're wearing exactly what I'd guessed you were, oh lucky me. It's all in black – strapless bra, thong panties, garters and nylons. And, ohhhhhhh a sight that causes my cock to twitch – the panties are on the outside.

You dance your way through the entire next piece as I admire your body. Blue smoke from my cigar has risen to the ceiling of the living room adding a sexy haze to the gathering heat. The music starts again. You unclasp the front of your bra, cupping your breasts in your hands. Then you throw me the bra and strut your big, beautiful breasts for all to see. The nipples are hard but you tweak them to make sure and fondle your breasts just the way your love me to do.

My applause is even louder.

As the music starts again you roll your hips as you rub your breasts and then you begin to slowly ease your skimpy black thongs down over your hips – little bit by little bit – as you continue to swing and way. You turn around and I can see clearly the crack of your ass as the black band of silk pushes lower until it slips under the roundness of your cheeks. You turn back to me and I can see the slash of your pussy. You've even shaved for me.

You push the panties down your thighs and they fall to your feet. You kick them at me. I can feel their dampness as I catch them and when I smell them the musky scent of your arousal is everywhere.

"Give me your cigar," you order when the song ends. I pass it over and you take a drag as the music starts again. You bend your legs and you pelvis undulates back and forth. You brush the end of the cigar that had been in my mouth along the slit of your pussy and as you spread its lips with one hand you push the cigar into your vagina.

This is more than I can stand. I undo my pants and push them down so I can stroke my throbbing cock as I watch the climax of the best strip show I have ever witnessed. I stand and cheer and my pants fall to the floor.

When the final song ends you step off the pine box and curtsey in front of me "Is there anything else I can do for you?" you ask.

"Do you do lap dances?"

"Oh mister, they are my specialty."

You put the cigar in the ash trap and climb onto my lap. With a deft adjustment of your hand my hard cock slips into your wet pussy.

"I don't think we need music for this, do we." You say as you wrap your arms around my neck and draw me to your breasts. Your ass begins to grind in my lap sliding my cock up and down in your pussy.

"No we don't need music," I agree as I catch your rhythm.