The Lap Dance

I walk into the dark, dank room; you're already reclined on the chair with your hand at your cunt. You've taken the liberty of hiking up your mini skirt in anticipation of my arrival, I see.

The music is a moderately driven dance beat, just perfect for the lap dance I'm about to perform on you. I can tell as I walk toward you that you've been looking forward to this for some time. You're already in what I refer to as lesbian space - wrapped up in the fact that a female stripper is about to rock your world. Your friends have told me this is the first time you've had a lap dance, and it has long been a fantasy of yours to explore another woman. You don't realize it, yet, of course, but this is a specialty of mine.

As I approach you, I am running my hands along the curves of my body. My short, skin-tight mini dress leaves little to the imagination, though you can't yet see the good stuff. My eyes are locked onto yours, and I can tell you're unsure, anxious, tentative, and yet, incredibly aroused. I wonder if you truly know why.

I walk up and straddle your lap, leaning down as if I'm going to kiss you. You move your mouth up toward my face in an attempt to meet mine, but I pull away just slightly, placing my finger across your lips. Unh, unh. I can tell you're new to this, as a more experienced woman would've taken my finger in her mouth.

I stand upright, moving my hips to the slow, methodical beat; your focus adjusts to the center mass of my body, watching the undulations, imagining them to be in synch with your own at some point soon. I run my hands along the sides of my face, down to my tits, pausing to squeeze them, then continuing down to my waist, along the insides of my thighs. They jump to you as I bend down and trace the inner length of your thighs with a single finger of each hand. I can see chill bumps rise from your skin. The first intimate touch of another woman? This is the moment I know for sure I have your psyche under my control - I've connected your mouth and your cunt to me without you realizing it.

You feel my hot breath in your ear as I lean down and whisper a reminder that you're not allowed to touch me at any point. You have to keep your hands to yourself, though you're welcome to do with them what you wish on your own body. You say nothing, but slowly shake your head in acknowledgment. I continue running my hands along your curves, down to your crotch to meet the hand you're using to satiate yourself. Once again, I lean in as if I'm going to kiss you, only to pull away as you instinctively move in to meet my lips. We've only gotten started, yet I can already see the angst in your eyes at the fact that you haven't even been allowed to taste me.

I crawl off of you and move to squat down on your left. I grab your free hand, which is resting on your thigh next to the hand you're using to manifest your own fantasies. I squeeze it gently, then begin running my hands over your body once again. The tight top you're wearing accentuates your chest and though I won't say it to you at this point, I am already fantasizing about biting your nipples at some point tonight. I can see them fighting to be freed. After the dance, perhaps?

I reach up and remove the strap of the dress from my left shoulder, pull it down and place it in my other hand, just shy of exposing my left tit to you. Then I reach over and do likewise with the other strap, pulling it off my shoulder and holding the top so that it doesn't fall from my chest.

I let go with both hands, allowing the thin fabric to fall, exposing my bare chest to you. The slight grin from you affirms for me that you're enjoying my show. As I stand up, I once again approach your mouth with mine, running my left hand through your hair and pulling you closer to me. You still haven't managed to overcome your instinct to try to meet my lips, but again, I pull away before your tongue can even sense there's something near it.

Tease, you say? Yes. Of course.

I stand up and, brushing my hands along your body, move around to a spot behind you. The chair allows you to lean back with your head and neck parallel to the ground. As you recline back, I stand over you and bend down, allowing my tits to fall on both sides of your face. For the first time you can taste me. Your tongue darts from your mouth into the valley between my 34Cs as they hang above you.

I begin draping them over your face, allowing you to lick my nipples. You try to bite them, but they just won't stay there long enough for you to get your teeth on the perky little protuberances. I can see your hand still massaging your cunt in rhythm with the music. I bend over you to run my hands down the length of your torso and into your crotch, but stop just short of helping you with your intimate task.

As I squat down behind you and continue running my hands along your arms, your tits, your sides, you slide down further into your chair. I move to your side, allowing our faces to come so close that we can smell each others' breath. I know there are few more powerful forces in the universe than that which is screaming inside you to push your lips toward mine. The three minutes of conditioning, however, have led you to the conclusion that it would be pointless to do so. I'm not about to give you my lips this early into the dance. Your gaze is transfixed to mine, and I can see the painful longing inside them.

I stand up and move around in front of you, straddle your thigh and sit down on it, lightly grinding myself on your bare leg. The music is so perfectly paced for this. As I drag my cunt back and forth across your thigh, I lean into you, cupping your head with my arm, placing my face next to yours. You're a good girl, continuing to pleasure yourself. I use the tense muscles in your thigh for my own enjoyment for just a few more seconds, then stand back up and allow my face to dance around yours before withdrawing once again.

I glide back to take up a position in front of you, between your spread open legs, gyrating to the 90 beats per minute and slowly pull my dress down to reveal my body to you. The only thing keeping me from being wholly exposed at this point is a tiniest of thongs. I let the little dress slide down to the floor and kick it away with my foot.

I move to sit back down on your leg, bending forward so that my tits are just inches from you, and once again my face is close enough that I can smell the scent of your hair. "You're so hot," I whisper into your ear. You turn your face toward mine one more time, silently begging me to allow you to touch my lips with yours. I can't even see your face, but I can feel your desire. I know there's a fight going on inside your body right now for control. You're anchored to the sexual universe at two points simultaneously. Does your mouth win, or does your cunt at this point? Too close to call.

Once again I return to a standing position, put my arms above my head and allow you to take in the lithe body before you. As I begin to remove my thong, I turn away from you and bend over at the waist. As the small strip of cloth is extracted from my backside, I know you can, for the first time, see me. And by me, I mean my essence; cunt, ass, everything that is my sex.

As I release the thong at my feet, I slide my hands slowly up the back of my legs to my ass, where they stop and take up residence while my hips continue to move side to side in synchronization with the music. I can't see your reaction, but I can feel your gaze affixed squarely on my center mass. I grab my ass cheeks and play with them, giving you a full view of everything I have, less then three feet from your face.

I turn around and slowly move to a point where I am once again straddling your leg. I sit my now exposed cunt down onto you and begin using you again. My right hand finds its way to the side of your face, cupping it, while the left one grabs your right thigh, right next to your cunt, for leverage. You probably don't realize that my hands are now connected to the two struggling centers of energy on purpose, melding your sexual energy to mine in one slow, rhythmic, burning dance.

I slide my hand from your thigh up along the arm being used to push your hand into your deep spaces, then trace a path back down to your hand. Your busy, busy hand. Just for the faintest of seconds, I help you in your quest to find Nirvana, but quickly pull away. I'm not ready for you to cum yet.

After another thirty seconds or so grinding on you, I stand and bring my other leg behind the opposite side of your body. I am now standing in front of you; straddling you. As I begin running my hands up and down your body, the speed of your masturbation increases. I believe this to be happening because you know that, within a few seconds, my cunt will be inches from your face. And you know I won't allow you to touch it. Yes, you'll be able to smell me; you may even be able to taste me in the air. I can't keep that from you. But that is part of the delicious nature of the dance. You can sense that I am aroused, as you are. And even in your naivete you know that, if you could only lock your lips around my clit, you'd own me.

The first grunt emanates from your mouth as your cunt restores the focus of your sex to its rightful place. "If you cum, the dance is over," I warn you. Your sadness is palpable.

I stand upright, and move my hands down along the length of my torso, across the front of my pelvis and into my crotch. Your gaze is focused on where my hands are going, begging me to touch myself there, as if to provide tacit permission for you to fantasize about them being your hands.

I move my cunt closer to your face - so close that I know you can see my swollen lips, my wetness; you can tell how much it arouses me to be dancing for you. I grab your hair with both hands and move your face closer to my undulating pubis, only to pull it away each time. This is torture, you think to yourself. Yes, I know it is. That's what you've paid me for.

I slide back down and straddle you once again such that my cunt is just above the hand that is so furiously violating your inner sanctum, my tits rubbing against yours, and begin licking you and kissing your neck, then taking little light nibbles of it. I can taste the salt in the perspiration that casts a light sheen over your entire body. As I do, you can't hold back; your first orgasm. I continue to squat above you long enough to allow you to wind down. You look up at me and a grin builds across your face; a grin that at once shows gratitude and urges me to continue.

I move off you and return to a position to your left, kneeling just enough to put my nipple right at your mouth. At this point, you don't even try to reach out to it because you assume I'll just move away. Nothing could be further from the truth. Soon, my cunt is right beside your face. You turn to face me only to see my pierced hood right in front of you. If your tongue was two inches longer, you might just be able to touch me, there. How many times have you longed to taste that cunt just in the past few minutes?

I squat back down, my face at yours, our lips just millimeters apart. I want to kiss you now, but will not make the first move. I move my hand to the inside of your thigh, squeezing it gently in rhythm with the music, brushing against your hand - the one that hasn't left your cunt since I walked into the room. Such a slut.

I move back up and allow my tits to caress your face. Once I've fully stood up, I place my cunt right in front of you and begin masturbating myself. I grab a handful of your hair and force you to watch. My other hand is busy, penetrating my cunt, playing with my clit, while I continue to grind my pelvis in the air just centimeters from your lips. When I'm satisfied my fingers have enough of me on them, I withdraw them from my hole and put them to your lips. You don't need any further encouragement, and engulf them with your lips and your tongue. This is your first taste of another woman's sex. You ravenously devour my fingers as if my fluids were to be your last meal.

I put my left foot up on the chair between your legs so you have a better view, and return my wet fingers to my pussy. I grab your hair again and force you to watch me play with my clit. I can feel you pushing against my hand as your next orgasm builds. Your moans turn me on even more, as I can tell they're genuine and come from deep within your soul. As you release your second orgasm, I let go of you, and you allow your head to drop back onto the back of the chair. After two intense orgasms, you're spent and it's nice to relax. But I'm not done yet.

I move around behind you, and stand, legs spread, with my cunt right over your eyes. You can see, smell, and taste me at this point if you wish. You dart your tongue out toward my cunt, trying to reach it, but I can't allow that here. I continue to tease you until you have a third orgasm. This one seems particularly intense, you moan and groan loudly, lifting your legs into the air, your body writhing in the chair. Yet you never move your head.

When you're done, I lean down and kiss you as your body continues to enjoy the little residual orgasmic spasms that permeate it. As I do, I run my hands along your arms down to your cunt and back, giving you chill bumps once again.

I walk around to the front of you, straddle your waist and position myself so my cunt is right above yours. My hand moves down and completes the connection. You jump as I ever so slightly brush it against your clit. I sit on your legs, masturbating myself. After just a few seconds, the true measure of my arousal manifests itself in my own intense orgasm. When I am spent, I collapse on top of you with my face buried in the small of your neck. When my spasms are complete, I turn your face to mine and we kiss, sealing our fate.