I have never really adjusted to the intense thrill of rotating my practically naked hips in front of a woman staring avidly at my hard eight inch cock, damp in the piss hole by now, her eyes riveted on it as it swayed there, an inch or so from her lips. The heavy beat of Ravel made me surge slowly but lewdly, the moment capturing me as much as her, and I knew she would give me the grand finish to my act when her tongue flicked out toward it. The tight elastic mini jock strap was looped behind my balls, thrusting my genitals out, and the long dance of seduction of the entire room culminated in this moment. After performing for three years, I had learned which women were most likely to cooperate, and hadn't made a mistake for several months now.
I whispered to the sensual, forty year old woman staring at my weaving tool "A couple of sucks, Baby. Thats all it'll take." Her eyes flickered up to mine, she drew in a quick, urgent breath, and opened her mouth as her eyes began to close. She leaned forward and took half my throbbing member deep into her mouth, as I spread my arms and threw my head back. I felt her lips close, the suction intensify my tingling pleasure, my mental and physical euphoria climbing fast, and humped into her face, once, twice, and then felt my cum overtake me as the roomfull of women screamed. I felt the jism shooting like a hose as I groaned with pleasure, and the white goo almost immediately oozed out the side of her red lips.
She swallowed quickly, eyes wide now and staring up at me as I humped again, feeling another shot surge into her mouth, even as a dribble leaked down her chin. I felt her hand grip my taut ass, and the wild soaring combination of cumming and triumphing blanked me out for a moment. She swallowed again, her eyes glassy, and I saw her hand pawing at her cunt under the table. "Go ahead Baby" I breathed, and she smiled crazily, then screamed softly around my wet tool. Her hand now slowed and surged, and I thought I could almost smell the pussy juice as she orgasmed herself. I dropped my card with my mobile phone number into the deep crevice between two amazingly full tits, thinking she sure looked good considering her age. Nine times out of ten they called me, and I occasionally moved in with one if it paid well.
The sign had said "Well built young men wanted for amateur night", in front of the Cosmic Palace. It was a strip bar that had two Ladies nights a week, and the idea of dancing for women had always been a kind of fantasy of mine. I'm really not a buffed weightlifter or anything, but had played football, and still stayed in shape. Since then, I've started doing weights, but not to the exaggerated extent a lot of the guys do. A slim but toned look sets me a bit apart.
That night I just brought an old graduation gown and a pair of glasses. I was embarrassed when I first stepped out onto the stage, unfamiliar with the sense of bright lights in my eyes, the strange cacaphony of noise, giggling, cheering, and some lewd comments from the crowd of women. At first I moved around, first turning my back, then facing them, letting the long gown shift so they got glimpses of my tanned skin and the tight speedo bathing suit underneath. My face felt as though it must be beet red, and the effort to keep time with the music made me perspire lightly.
But amazingly quickly, I began to realize how sexy the whole thing made me feel. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I began to pick out women close to the edge of the stage, a couple very pretty, and felt my cock start to stiffen. The noise settled down, or I adjusted, and I could connect voices to particular women. Even that first night, teasing them seemed to come naturally, and I would spread my arms and hump my hips toward the ones who had attracted my attention. I heard whispers like "Look, he's gettin' hard", and "Work that thing stud".
The music slowed to a heavier beat, and I let the gown slip down to my waist, pushing my twitching, black sheathed cock at the material as I got closer to several of the enthusiastic girls, and heard one groan "Yeah Baby, bring it on over here". I sidled over there, and flashed my hips to her, within a couple of feet, and realized she was riveted to my prick, as it jumped and twisted. Curious now, and excited, I crept closer, and damned if she didn't press her cheek to the thick organ, and it popped up out of the suit.
I was shocked, and turned my back as I tried to stuff it back inside the elastic, even as I heard screams of encouragement. The guys who had gone before me had limited themselves to completely exposing themselves only at the end, and not near the audience. Even as I got myself tucked in, my mind was spinning with the realization that no cops had come running up to arrest me, and that the women, rather than being offended, were cheering and encouraging me to "Show us the goods, studly." So I kept prancing around, finally tossing the gown into the wings, and getting close to the several women leaning over the stage, seeming to beckon to me.
When I nuzzled up to them, all but one tried to kiss the tip of my dong through the suit, and one grabbed at the edge of it. I jumped back when she did that, teasing still. But my head was buzzing, and I was really turned on. I must have lost track of time, I was supposed to get it over with in ten minutes, and caught the boss spinning his finger as a sign to hurry up. I sort of slow walked along the edge of the long curved stage, playing with the top edge of the speedo, flashing my pubic hair at them. Later, I shaved it off, but they were screaming, and seemed to delight in each move I made. Even that first night, I found I could push down the suit, flash my cock, and cover it again quickly.
The music got louder, and I realized they were trying to get me to finish. One of the women, kind of heavy but with a pretty face, was leaning way out at a spot that the whole room could see. I got in front of her, and pulled the suit back behind my balls, with that stiff erection weaving at her, and she held her arms out toward me. Curious as to how far she'd go, I twitched closer, and damn if she didn't grab my ass and get her mouth on the head of my cock. She pulled on my hips, and I sunk to the back of her mouth, maybe four inches, and felt her sucking.
I gurgled to her "Watch out honey." She looked up, and nodded frantically. I had no idea whether I could get off, but stroked into her, and felt a cum burst from her hands squeezing my ass right into my tool, heard the room screaming, and saw the woman swallowing hard. The music stopped, and all there was was screaming, as I kept shooting into that sucking mouth. It was an amazing nut, sharp and sweet. I pulled out and pranced over to the curtain, my still stiff cock leaking as I exited, stage right.
The next guy was waiting there, in a bathing suit outfit, with his mouth hanging open. I could hardly believe I'd done it, but felt great. The guy squeaked "Jesus buddy, I think that's illegal." I just grinned at him. Later that night, the boss said I could have a regular gig if I wanted it, and even though one of the last guys jacked off on the stage, I won the contest. I didn't even realize I had a hundred fifty bucks stuck in my suit. The prize was two hundred. When we were led out at the end, three women tucked slips of paper with their phone numbers into my suit. Its been a hell of a ride since then.
Marcia Hardin felt like she was in another dimension as she and her three former classmates staggered out of the bar. The taste of the kids jism was still strong in her mouth, her wet panties felt sticky, and she had a strange feeling in her stomach, as though she was going to throw up. How could I have done that, her mind cried, suck a guy off in front of maybe a hundred people. The Corporate Vice President, firm feminist views always prepared in argument when one of the suits even hinted at an interest in her, hadn't been laid in three years, and a rising star at WellTec. It was as though she had regressed back to her wild college years, after the long evening reminiscing with her former roomate, and two other successful almuni. Gloria had suggested this club, and they had been lucky to get a front row table.
Marcia could dimly hear their voices, "Far out Marcy", and "God was that guy hung". Meanwhile she was worrying about whether there had been any company people there to see her raunchy wild impulse. As the cool night air sobered her quickly, and her stomach settled down, she got control of herself, and said goodnight, jumping quickly into a passing cab. "415 Park. Take Broadway." She sat back and felt an impulse to let tears fall, until she vaguely realized she was still turned on. The little orgasm she had had in the club had been short and intense, but if she had been at home, using one of her toys, she'd have gone on to two or three more, letting their strength increase. She always made a little ceremony of it, checking a couple of porn sites on the Net to get her in the mood.
She wondered "What came over me? I have maybe sucked two or three cocks my whole life, all twenty years ago, and never ever let them cum in my mouth." The vivid memory of how sexy the slim but well built kid had been as he danced sensually, with that big clipped tool weaving around, had seemed to hypnotize her. She decided it must be a regression, seeking the sense of freedom of her pre-corporate self. She felt the card tickling her abdomen, and pulled it out of her bodice just as the cab pulled up in front of her apartment. She almost ran up the walk to the doors, punched in the security code, and hurried up to her twelfth floor apartment.
When she sat down on the large leather couch in her dimly lit living room, she glanced up at the digital clock and realized it was only one o'clock, fairly early by her Saturday night standards. She often had a dinner date, usually a customer or supplier, and would come home, shower, and have one of her sexy nights. Sometimes she would work out in the basement gym for an hour or so, stretching and challenging her well toned body. She had found her sensuality a handy weapon in the couple of advancement competitions she'd been in. The implants she'd had when her always large tits had started to sag in her late twenties had been done by the best guy she could find, even though the cost had staggered her at the time.
As she pulled off her blouse, her mind still spun with desire, a sense of frustration she had been feeling for some time, the sense that with her new wealth and power she should be happier, and vague memories of her wild, out of control need for that young stud. He probably thought she was dumpy and flabby under her long sleeved blouse and the tailored pants. Probably thought she was a sex starved housewife or something. She chuckled. Well, she probably was sex starved.
Suddenly another thought crashed into her thoughts. What about aids. Oh my god, he might be a goddamn gigolo, one of those crazies. On an impulse, she called the mobile number on her own mobile, and heard the baritone, husky voice say "Hello". Her stomach flipped. She disconnected fast. As she sat staring at the clock, the phone buzzed. He was calling back.
All I heard was heavy breathing, then the click, click, click, and the dial tone. I was all cleaned up and walking up toward the Village, thinking I might go hear the Jazz at the Voice for a while. It occurred to me that the woman from the club might be calling, she had seemed the type, though that was tough to predict. I remembered those great looking tits, and hit "return". I let it ring about six times, and almost hung up, when I heard a breathy, low female voice, very attractive sounding, say "Hello?"
