Mona was the most voluptuous barmaid in the small frontier town. She strutted into the saloon with a seductive sway in her hips. Her movements could make even the most stoic of men drop their jaws in awe. Her silken dark hair cascaded down her back. And her suntanned breasts threatened to spill out of her tight, low-cut corset. Her eyes gleamed with a trace of lust. She scanned the room, looking for the thirsty grins of the patrons eager to quench their desires.
The wooden floorboards creaked under the weight of her high-heels. She made her way to the stage. The rowdy chatter and clinking of glasses came to an sharp halt. As she stepped up the limelight illuminated her curvaceous figure. Her lacy red satin dress was scandalously short for the time. It even had a slit from hem to her mid thigh, teasing the eyes of the rough men. After a hard day's work in the silver mines, the men leaned forward to admire her. Their calloused hands gripped their beers with anticipation.
With a sultry smile playing on her full, glossy lips, Mona began to shake her ass. She lifted her dress to the side to reveal her ass, sculpted by the gods of carnality, twerking and jiggling it with the seduction of a seasoned exotic dancer. Each cheek bounced to the rhythm of the honky-tonk music, sending waves of pure lust rumbling through the crowd. The men who watched were transfixed. Her hips moved in a hypnotic dance that could make the most pious of souls question their devotion. The motion was so intense, so mesmerizing, that it seemed to shake the very foundation of the saloon. As if the earth itself was responding to her erotic prowess.
She danced with the confidence of a woman who knew she could make every head turn and every jaw drop. She had a body that defined the typical stereotypes of her profession, a perfect frame to say the least. This woman knew exactly what she was doing. Her stomach was as flat and firm as a washboard, the result of countless nights of dancing and the occasional roll in the hay with any generous patrons. Her hips were especially wide, her thighs thick and fine, and her ass, oh that ass, it was a thing of legend. It jutted out like a round shelf, and she had the uncanny ability to bounce each massive piece of flesh individually.
She lifted her skirt, turned around, and bent over at the waist. The light cast an amber glow over Mona's glistening butt cheeks. It was almost as glittery as the polished mahogany bar where the bottles of sweet amber liquid gleamed like gold in a pirate's treasure chest. And sweetness was what Mona promised with every dance step she took. She turned her head, looked back at her ass, looked up at the crowd, and back at her ass with a devious smirk. Then smacked it as hard as she could with her palm. The horny men cheered to show their appreciation.
Her dance continued with a slow, tortuous roll of her hips, a movement so sensual it seemed almost imperceptible at first. Her face expressed naivety as she opened her skirt slit to show soft white skin, the fabric fluttered around her like butterfly wings. She had a way of moving that was both mesmerizing and infectious. Her tits, large and heavy, bounced with the rhythm of her dance, the dress barely containing the bounty that spilled over the top. Her face was a thing of beauty; she had deep, striking eyes with long fake lashes that curved upward, a small, pert nose, and a mouth that could be both innocent and wicked in the same moment.
As the tempo of the piano picked up, so did her dance. Her ass began to shake like an earthquake, a tremor that traveled through the floorboards and up the spines of the men who watched her. She began her famous ass clap routine. The men listened intently to heavy skin bouncing up and down, to produce those magnificent rhythmic claps. They couldn't help but compare her to the forces of nature. She was a tempest in human form that could bring a man to his knees with a single shake of her hips. The men leaned in closer, with baited breath. They craned their necks as they tried to get a better view. They didn't dare miss the spectacle that unfolded before them.
Mona knew exactly what they craved, and she reveled in it. She threw her head back, her hair flying. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as she let the music take over her body. Her hands caressed her thighs then slid gracefully up to her boobs. She slipped her fingers up her dress and into the waistband of her tiny, black thong. Her movements grew more frantic, more wild, and the men's cheers grew louder, their calls more insistent. They reached for their hard-ons stroking them through their trousers, the fabric straining against their hard cocks. Mona slowly slid the thong down her ass, bending over to reveal it's glory. The cheers rose as the band of fabric rolled down the curve of her behind. It stretched like it might break, before the tension released and it slid down her legs to her ankles. Mona dropped her skirt back down, hiding her now naked butt, and stepped backward, out of the thong. She bent down to deftly pick it up, raising it high like a warriors flag. The men reached up to catch it, the prize they all wanted. The thong flew like a black bird, landing softly in the sturdy hands of a bearded lumberjack sitting on a stool. His smile lit up as if he had just won a game of poker.
The screams died down. The music grew louder and more lush. Her heels barely touched the floor as she twirled. Her skirt flew up revealing glimpses of her thigh high stockings. Her corset stretched tight across her bosom; she panted but she could barely breathe. The seams threatened to burst from the pressure of her ample bust swelling and falling.
Her lashes snapped upward, and she locked eyes with the burly lumberjack at the end of the bar. He had just got to town, and she hadn't had the pleasure of his company yet. She beckoned him closer with her finger. Her full, red lips curved into a knowing smile. He stumbled closer to the stage.
"Feels like an earthquake in here!" one patron yells over the music, his voice thick with desire.
"More like the ass-quake of the century!" another adds with a lecherous laugh.
Mona's dance was a masterpiece, a promenade of sensuality that left every man in the room craving more. Her movements were raw and primal, a celebration of the flesh and all its tantalizing secrets. Her legs moved in a blur as she spun around. Her skirt fluttered up again to reveal the smooth, creamy skin of her upper thighs. She knew she was the hottest woman in town and the monarch of this depraved little corner of the world. She basked in the power she held over her audience.
As the piano reached a resolving chord, she stepped down. Her breathing heavy, her boobs heaved up and down inches away from the lumberjack's eyes. With a wink and a flick of her hair, she strutted back to the silent bar. Her hips still swaying, she grabbed a bottle of whiskey. The men watched as she poured herself a generous double shot and downed it with self-assured ease.
"So, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?" the lumberjack slurred. His eyes never left her chest.
Mona leaned against the bar. Slammed the bottle down with a thud that echoed through the room. "Just earning a living, darlin'. What's your name?"
"They call me Big Joe," he said with a smirk.
"Well, Big Joe," she purred, "I'm Mona - and I'm here to serve your every desire."
The man's face lit up like a kid in a candy store. He reached for his coin purse. "How about a lap dance? Right here. Right now. In front of everyone."
Mona nodded, taking his money with a dainty hand. She led him to a secluded table, her hips still swaying as she walked. The other men watched with envy, their own desires burning brighter with each step she took away from them.
Once he sat, she straddled his lap. Her skirt rode up even further. Her hands roamed over her body, tracing the curves of her waist and the swells of her breasts. She teased him with glimpses of what lied beneath. Her movements were slower now. More deliberate, as if she was savoring every second of his attention.
As the pianist started a soft, somber ballad, she leaned in close to his ear. "You wanna know something, Joe?" she whispered.
"What's that, sweetheart?"
