Disclaimer: This is a work of fantasy, and in no way is intended to condone or excuse nonconsensual sex. In real life the protagonist of my story should be in jail.
Think twice before you read this. It's crude, nasty, misogynistic and very rapey. If that sounds like it would offend you then it probably will. But a handful of you might like it.
Don't say I didn't warn you...
Angels Bar. What a place. The drinks are a little on the pricey side and the girls aren't exactly cheap either, but where else in Sheffield can you find such a display of stunningly beautiful scantily clad women, all willing to dance in your lap for the right price, or sometimes to even give a little extra. So after a hard day's work I'll swing by here at least once a month to chill out with a pint of beer and a ridiculously hot babe eager to grind against me for cash.
It hasn't had the easiest time staying open. Several killjoy politicians have attempted to shut it down. In the words of one 'These establishments use women to service men's sexual gratification, or titillation. This is degrading to women, it objectifies women's bodies, and teaches men and boys that women can be used.'
Yeah, no shit Sherlock. That's why I like it!
There's another reason this place is a favorite of mine. My friend Jack is a bouncer here. We go way back to secondary school. He was big, black and athletic. I was a white skinny nerd. And yet despite inhabiting completely different school cliques, we somehow hit it off. I helped him with his math homework, and he stopped my ass getting beat on at least one occasion. And ten years on he's still looking out for me, hooking me up with those strippers who are willing to give back room blow jobs.
It's still early evening in this place, and Anna is currently dancing, a trio of businessmen ogling her. Anna is another old schoolmate. She was a nice kid back in our school days, and cute even then. Now she's really blossomed. Her sweet round face is framed by blond curls, and nearly all of her pale freckled skin is on display, including a sizable chest barely constrained with a skimpy red bra. She catches sight of me and winks. Anna has no qualms about dancing in the lap of a former nerdy classmate. And on one memorable night she even put those plush lips to use around my dick. My cock is already stiffening at the memory. I wonder if Anna still thinks of the taste of my cum every time she sees me. She finishes the dance, smiling at me and trailing fingers over my arm as she passes.
I'll try and catch up with her later, but now a new hottie is taking the stage. And what a body she has! Long bronzed legs lead up to the skimpiest of lacy black panties and the most perfectly formed ass. Her hips curve up to a slim waist and then the most fantastic set of full knockers, barely covered by a black bra. Long dark hair falls against her shoulders. Her face is classically beautiful, and yet marred a little by an expression of haughty arrogance. I've seen that face before...
Holy shit! Is that Keely Michael? Yes, it is. Keely is yet another former classmate, but this time round I have no fond memories of her. She was an arrogant loud mouth bully at school, but even at the time I would have admitted she was attractive. Sadly, she was only interested in the bad boys in my class. She was fit back then, but now, wow! Her sunbed toned figure looks like she spends a lot of time in the gym. Her already ample tits have since swelled out into the sort of breasts that get you hard just looking at them.
But her attitude doesn't seem to have improved much. While she gyrates and twirls around that pole like a pro she still manages to look bored, shooting disdainful looks at the punters whose eyes are glued to her. I sip my beer slowly as I admire her figure.
All too soon the song is over, and Keely makes her way off the stage. She eyes me as she passes and stops. "You want a private dance?" she squawks.
That's another thing I remember about Keely. Her body may be beautiful, but her voice definitely wasn't. She still speaks in those abrasive council estate tones. I remember one lucky guy boasting about the time she'd blown him. "The best thing was...she shut the fuck up for ten minutes."
I look her up and down. She really doesn't seem to recognize me. "Yes," I say, "I'd like that."
She demands the money first, and I quickly hand over a couple of notes. Then she's leading me to a private booth. I sit down, and she immediately sets to work. I must be grinning from ear to ear. This is Keely Michael, the Keely Michael, grinding against me and getting nearly naked in my face. And it's everything I'd always imagined. She slides her bra off, her magnificent breasts now free to brush up and down my body as she writhes over me.
We're halfway through the dance when she looks at me quizzically and squawks out "Er, do I know you?"
I think about playing dumb before answering "we used to go to school together."
She frowns as she tries to remember, finally exclaiming, "Aye, you're David."
"Darren," I correct her.
"Eh, Darren Walker, you were a right nerd at school."
Not polite, but not wrong either. But whatever, now I'm doing well for myself with a cushy city job, and this bitch is dancing for my cash. She's wearing her usual 'fuck off' expression that I remember too well, but she doesn't stop dancing for me.
Instinctively, I move a hand up towards her long tanned leg, but am cut shut when she snaps "the rule is no touching."
As if on autopilot, Keely turns around and rubs her magnificent ass against my groin. "You better not cum in your pants." she says, no doubt feeling the most obvious erection straining against my trousers.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I say. And it's true. Because I'm actually dreaming about cumming on her face.
The song finishes and the dance is over. We exit the booth, and Keely quickly makes her way towards another group of punters to try and sell them a private dance. I pick up another beer from bartender Gary, and turn to watch the next girl.
Jack is here, taking a quick break from manning the door. He sees me and saunters over. "How you doing mate?" he asks.
I nod towards Keely. "Not bad, not bad at all."
Jack laughs. "I was wondering when you were going to meet our old classmate."
"What's she like to work with?"
Jack screws up his face. "She's hot, but she's a right bitch to work with."
I laugh. "Nothing's changed since school then?"
"Not much. Her tits are even bigger now, but so is her attitude. The other girls don't like her much. She's rude to the customers. She's even rude to Ben."
I'm surprised. Big Ben is the owner of this strip joint, a bald barrel chested man who I can't imagine taking shit from anyone.
"Damn, how is she still working here?"
"She brings the customers in," Jack says, "it's not hard to see why."
I look over to Keely's perfect form as she leans over a customer, her breasts right in his face. It's not hard to see at all.
Jack leans into me a little closer. "The worst thing is, two weeks back, we catch her with her fingers in the till. All caught on CCTV, lifting a big wad of cash from behind the bar."
