|
Home
Lesbian Lovers
Lesbian
family
Toast a
new life
Sexy sweatergirl
Lesbian friends
Lesbian
sex comfort
College
lesbian
Cat fuck
Lesbians
by themselves
Experience
of lesbian sex
Hot lesbian
girls
A wet lesbian
Naked lesbians
Licking
lesbians
Lesbians
sucking pussies
Special
lesbian friends
Tale
of lesbian ladies
Desperate
Lesbians
The
urge of lesbians
Lesbian
students
True
lesbian friendship
Dreams
of a lesbian
Seductive eyes
Lesbian
neighbors
Lesbian
and faith
Lesbian wife
Lesbians
at a party
Sexual
lesbian meeting
Girls will be
girls
At department
store
Lesbian
eating pussy
Lesbians
in train
Lesbian
bathroom sex
Lesbian sisters
Lesbians
under waterfall
Pussy shave
Lesbian orgasm
Lesbians
fucking
New lesbian
friend
Wave
of lesbian climax
Lesbians
at home
Sexy
lesbian dancer
Experiment
with lesbian
Deflowering
a lesbian
Wanting
a lesbian
Booking Bonnie
Lesbian
companion
Lesbian
mountain biker
Lesbians
in classroom
Lesbian passion
|
SEXY LESBIAN
DANCER.
Her name was Emily, and she was an exotic dancer. I had gone into the
club because I was curious, and on my previous trips to New Orleans my
ex Patrick hadn’t wanted to go into a strip club. For a man who
was so adventurous in the bedroom and who was comfortable with my bisexuality,
he was something of a prude about public shows of eroticism. Didn’t
fit with his public self-image I suppose. So here I was; single, horny,
and dying of curiosity. I was told that as a woman I wouldn’t have
to pay a cover charge, so I happily entered the club. Before me was a
plethora of women happy to get naked
and dance. I’d been a little disappointed with the first few dancers—they
seemed too detached—maybe they’d been there too long or not
long enough. Then Emily took the stage.
From the first moment, my attention was on her. Physically she was my
type—curvy and slender, pert breasts
with darker nipples,
brown hair and a playful attitude. She obviously got off on the dancing.
She was the first girl that I felt compelled to move closer to the stage
and tip. When her white sheer gauzy nightgown came off, my clit began
to throb.She gave a table dance for the people next to me, and I worked
up the courage to ask for one as well. She stood before me, and began
to dance. The dress was quickly off and she was down to her thong and
garter. Moving in, her naked
breasts brushed my clothed ones. As she tossed her hair back and bent
backwards I could imagine sliding the thong aside to lick and luxuriate
in her wetness. Emily turned toward round and sat in my lap, her skin
damp with the humidity and perspiration from dancing, rubbed against my
thighs where my shorts ended. She leaned back against me and played with
her nipples. My hands ached to reach up and fondle them myself. When she
was done, she kissed my cheek and told me she’d love to dance for
me again. I signaled one of the managers to ask about the VIP rooms. I
wasn’t sure what was allowed, but when I asked, the man just winked
and said that it was up to us. Apparently virtue in New Orleans was still
negotiable. I was led up to a small, slightly tacky room with just a little
too much gold and black décor. I couldn’t spot it, but I
was sure there had to be a camera. I heard a knock on the door, and Emily
entered.
"I’d hoped it was you," she said in her soft southern
drawl. I was sitting on the couch and she sat down next to me, our thighs
touching. "I’m yours for the next half hour. Do you want me
to dance, or…" her voice trailed off. "Um…I guess
dancing would be nice…" my cheeks were flushed, and not just
from my sunburn. "Nice, but not what I think you really want."
She stood before me, and for the third time that night I watched her gown
flutter to the floor. She slid into my lap and traced a finger down my
cheek. "Better?" I nodded, frightened to do something that was
disrespectable, yet wanting desperately to touch her. "So, why are
you here by yourself?" she asked, taking one of my hands and placed
it on her waist. I told her about Patrick and his prudeness about strip
clubs. She laughed, and asked "But it turns you on, honey?"
"Yeah. I mean it’s exhibitionism and voyeurism all in one,
isn’t it?" "A woman after my own heart." With that,
she pulled my other hand to her heart, and not so coincidentally her left
breast. My fingers began massaging her dusky nipple automatically and
she sighed. "Darlin, you keep doing that and I’m gonna start
squirming. You’ve got a nice touch." She turned in my lap and
straddled me, my hands resting on her hips now. Our eyes locked and she
nodded. "So, it’s like that?" Her French manicured fingers
slid down my front and up under my top. She removed my shirt in one slow
tug upwards. Since I had skipped the bra due to sunburn, my breasts were
now as bare as her own. Her lips brushed my cheek and her nipples brushed
my own, both sets erect and aroused.
My hands slid down over her ass, rubbing it. Emily shifted, and her breasts
were in front of my mouth. Losing control, I leaned in and began to suckle,
varying my speed and pressure. Her hands slid into my hair and she gave
a soft moan. "Do you want more?" I whispered. "Yes,"
she told me without hesitation. Her hands slid to my jean shorts and she
had them off me in a moment. We lay on the couch, both down to our thongs
and both obviously turned on. I slid a thigh between hers and she began
to rock against it, obviously feeling as needy as I was. Her mouth came
up and I was surprised when she kissed me. Our tongues danced…I
could only think that she even tasted sexy. Emily took my hand and encouraged
me to slip it into her thong. Glorious. Her pussy was sopping and hot
and delectable. I slid my index finger down into her cleft, then back
up to her clit. Her hips arched to encourage me. I began to play with
her, enjoying each moan and quiver as she let the desire take her over.
She shuddered and my hand was flooded with her wetness as she came. She
lay against me, recovering and leaned in for another kiss. "Let me
repay the favor," she murmured. Emily slid off my lap and knelt before
my legs. She slid my thong from me, smiling at the dampness of the garment.
She opened my legs and leaned in. I closed my eyes when her eager tongue
slid in between the folds of my cunt. At first she lapped softly, making
me come closer and closer to orgasm before stopping just torturous inches
away. Then she really got down to business, licking me, sucking my clit,
letting her teeth graze it while I whimpered with need. She slid one,
two, three fingers into me and finger fucked me hard, her tongue and her
fingers driver me over the edge and into a deep long and multiple orgasm.
She climbed on top of me, our wet pussies each resting on each other’s
thighs, our breasts flattened against each other, our lips meeting, exploring
and enjoying. I was licking her face clean of my cum when the manager
walked in. "Again, Emily?" he said when he saw the state of
things. "She made me horny" "A street lamp would make you
hot. Clean up and go shake your goods, they want another girl for the
bachelor party room." He slapped her ass as she hurried by and rolled
his eyes when she blew me a kiss. I was still laying on the couch, naked
with my pussy drenched and open. He walked over to me and patted my hip.
"No extra charge for fucking her." I sat up and was lifted into
his lap. "So…you bi, or full lesbian?" I replied that
I was bi. He offered me three things. A fuck, which I declined. A towel
to clean myself up, which I accepted. And lastly, some advice, "Let
her remain a fantasy—masturbate over her, pretend that your licking
her when it’s some other chick. But don’t come back—it’ll
ruin the memory." I nodded. He picked up my thong, and handed it
to me, "Unless you want a job…." I declined, but I still
fantasize about Emily to this day.
|