The first time he came to the club, I didn’t know what to think. Here was this sharp-looking, athletic, extremely hot guy with dark brown eyes and a smile that made my insides melt, who claimed to be the CEO of Luscious magazine (a prestigious national fashion publication, issued once a month). Let’s just say I’ve heard a lot of stories in my time: “I’m a rich business man,” “I’m a stockbroker,” “I have a beach house in the Bahamas.” You name it, I’ve heard it.
Of course I didn’t believe him. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five years old. How could he be a CEO?
When a twenty buys you a one-song lap dance and a man hands you a crisp Benjamin Franklin, what do you do? I gave him five lap dances. I stroked his hard cock through his pants, ran my hands through his jet-black hair, shoved my 34-DD-cup breasts in his face and didn’t object when he sucked my nipples into his mouth.
Texas has a lot of stripping rules on the books. Men are supposed to sit on their hands while you dance for them. My business guy didn’t sit on his hands, and it wasn’t just the money that kept me from protesting.
He was the kind of guy you’d give a double-take to on the street. The kind of guy that makes you wet with a smile. And in my profession — especially with all that cash in his pocket — the kind of guy you latch onto. He could turn a shitty shift into a great night.
That guy seldom left the club without dropping a couple hundred bucks in my lap.
He said his name was Trent, but that turned out to be bogus. After he’d come in to see me a dozen times, I’d gone home and done a basic Internet search. The CEO of Luscious magazine was named Gabriel Marquez. There was a picture. And sure enough, it was my “Trent.” I was so shocked at having a John tell me the truth for once that I dropped the beer I’d been sipping on.
I took him a little more seriously after that. The next time he waltzed in, I went to greet him immediately, draping my arms around his neck, feeling his hard-on against my stomach, relishing in the effect I had on this powerful businessman.
My businessman.
I loved to pull up a chair at his table, smoke his Davidoff cigarettes, drink his cosmopolitans, and surreptitiously graze my fingers along the outline of his cock under the table until he pulled out the Benjamin Franklins. Seeing him walk through the door began to trigger an automatic reaction — my pussy twitched, my nipples hardened, my breath caught, and my knees trembled. If I were to be real honest, I’d have to admit that I would have fucked him if he’d asked. Even without the money. His hands were soft on my body while I rode him through his expensive slacks.
In late October, he showed up with another woman. She had the same look about her that he did — sharp-dressed businesswoman, athletic and petite, with short-cropped, jet-black hair. There was an ease and grace about her movements.
“Hey gorgeous,” he said when I draped my arms around his neck as always. “This is my colleague, Angela. Two more are coming. This is your lucky day.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Colleague,” he’d said, not girlfriend or wife. And two more were coming. Men? Women?
He chuckled at the look on my face. “Surprised?”
“You know I am. But I’m sure we can all have fun.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“You said it was my lucky day.” I tried to make the statement more of a question.
“We’ve had a fantastic quarter. I’m rewarding my top editors. Of course,” he laughed again, that warm rumbling sound I’d grown to love. “None of this is official business. More of a treat, you could say.” He ran his hands up and down my back, careful not to reach for my ass, a big no-no that would draw the club security’s attention. “I’ve got a lot of bills for you today if you show us all the same kind of courtesy you show me.”
I took that to mean he wanted me to allow them all a little touch, give them all a little “ego” stroking. I shifted my attention to the woman at his side. Her attractiveness equaled his own, and my pussy involuntarily twitched at the very thought of touching so many different people in a very illegal way. Public lewdness, they call it in Texas.
Let me break here to explain something. Yeah, I was a stripper. And I’m sure everyone’s heard the stripper sob stories about needing to pay off dept or finance their college education, which usually translates into needing more cash for snow or blow. But I had a plan. And my plan did include eventual college education. Trent and I had talked about that quite a bit. He knew I worked a day gig as a secretary. We’d discussed stock options for my savings so it could grow into a healthy amount. We’d talked about that while I stroked his big cock under the table, but it certainly wasn’t your typical stripper conversation.
I never considered myself a slut or a whore. Just an exotic dancer trying to make ends meet. I’d been working the club for six months. The only customer I’d ever gone beyond the boundaries of acceptable with was my Trent.
So I tried not to be shocked. But the conflict clearly showed on my face.
“Hey, Sophia,” he murmured soothingly. My real name, by the way, is Lisa. “I’m trying to help you with your plans. I know it’s a lot to ask, but help me out. These guys deserve a treat and so do you. I love what you and I do. That’s why I’m recommending you to my guys, okay?” He paused, searching my eyes. “I already promised. Please do me this one favor. If it goes well, I have a special offer for you at the end of the night.”
The mention of a special offer is what undid me.
Finally, I thought. He’s going to ask me to fuck him. All I have to do is treat his colleagues right, and he’ll fuck me.
“Think about it, Sophia. The money you normally get from me times five. No sleaze balls groping you all night. Just us. You can focus on us.” He kissed my neck. “You can focus on me.”
I sighed at his touch. “Johnny won’t like it.” Johnny was the manager.
“I’ll take care of Johnny, too. A thousand dollars. Flat. We get you for the next three hours.”
“Take care of Johnny and I’ll do it. All of it.” The idea was making me wet, especially since Angela was staring at my topless breasts, her tongue grazing her perfect lower lip.
I led Angela to a table for five while Trent went to find my boss. He was only gone for a few minutes. Our bouncer was frowning suspiciously in my direction.
Trent returned and lit a cigarette, ordered a round of cosmos for the table, and checked his watch. He and Angela moved their chairs closer, wedging me in the middle. Two hands wandered into my lap – definitely a first – and ten fingers ran up and down my thighs.
“Fuck,” I whispered, and the two of them laughed.
Trent handed me the stack of hundreds. “Take Angela back while I wait for the others.” It was not a request. He was going to play the boss tonight. “And Sophia,” he leaned in close and spoke so low, only I could hear, “She isn’t wearing panties. Touch her clit. Bite her nipples.”
My breath caught in my chest, but he grabbed my wrist before I could push away from the table. "Say you will."
I couldn't say it, but I nodded, a slow smile crossing my lips as I willed my weak legs to prop me up. Without a word, I beckoned for Angela to follow and led her away from the crowded room and into a smaller, darker, more private area behind the main stage.
This is where all the action happens. And it was pretty full back there. Luckily, though, there are partitions between the plush benches for clients. We each get a bench for the night. Normally, a bouncer stands guard, silently pacing down the rows. Not tonight, though. A curtain also hung in front of my bench for privacy — certainly something I’d never seen before.
I waited a few seconds while Angela got comfortable, repeatedly glancing over my shoulder. My businessman must have taken care of the bouncer problem.
Angela was watching me with hungry eyes. Away from her boss and behind the curtain, she dropped all pretenses. Her legs were spread wide, her skirt hiked up, and lips half-parted in anticipation.
An ache began to build as I swayed my hips and breasts to the heavy rock music, wanting to make sure that beautiful woman got all that she needed.
I pinched my nipples and ran my fingers through my swollen lips, circling my clit teasingly. "Fuck," I hissed and she chuckled low in her throat.
Leaning forward, I made sure to press my breasts into her face before diving lower, tugging at her blouse collar with my teeth, moving lower still, snagging a nipple and giving it a gentle nibble while she squirmed. My hands were on her hips — rubbing, massaging, digging my fingers in hard enough that there'd be a bruise the next day. A long moan poured from her luscious lips.
Without stopping to think about consequences or standards or integrity — riding the lust that was building inside me — I slid my fingers up her thighs until I hit slippery moisture. Her eyes widened and mouth opened in a silent sort of scream. Before she could say anything, I thrust two fingers inside, groaning at the feeling of her tight muscles surrounding me.
"Ooooooh," she groaned, digging her hands into the back of my head.
I fucked her. I couldn't believe I was doing it, but I delighted in the way she writhed on the bench. She came before the third song was done, her hips bucking, her hands running up and down my body, driving me crazy. When her pussy muscles tightened around my fingers, I crushed my lips to hers and swallowed her scream.
* * *
"Is this her?" one of the men asked, looking me up and down when Angela and I made it back to the table.
"Yup. And you behave," Trent said, shaking a warning finger at the man. "Sophia, this is Mike and Colin."
"It's very nice to meet you," I said, still a little breathless.
"Looks like you met Angela already," the first man, Mike, said appreciatively. "Looks like she had a good time back there. What did you do? Blow her?"
"Mike," Trent growled, "Can't I take you anywhere? Show some respect. Sophia is a nice girl. You don't want to miss out on tonight, do you?"
"No," Mike said, his eyes staring at my hard nipples, "definitely not."
The way he was looking at me was almost disgusting, like a trickle of drool would start pooling from his mouth and run down his chin at any moment. It was gross. It was degrading. It was... strangely making my clit throb harder. This rude, obnoxious, idiot of a man was going to put his dirty, nasty paws all over me and I was going to have to touch his hard cock.
"Let's get this over with, Mike," I said with a look of mock-severity. Trent looked uncertain but laughed.
Mike grinned stupidly and jumped out of his chair. The first thing I noticed was that he had a raging hard-on, which he tried to cover with his blue suit jacket. Then I noticed his wavy blond hair and trendy three o'clock shadow and soul patch. It wasn't until we were in the booth in back that I'd notice that he was also buff, buff, buff.
I led him to the back and he immediately took off his jacket, draping it over the side partition. He plopped down on the bench and said, "Come to daddy, sugar."
Ugh. How cheesy. But that shirt sure did fit nicely across his chest. And those big hands looked inviting, despite his lack of charm. And that hard-on. God, he had to be enormous.
If he could just keep his damned mouth shut...
"The boss told us you were hot shit," he said, forcing my eyes back to his face and that obnoxiously smug grin.
“Uh-huh. Bet he said it just like that, too.”
He loosened his tie and popped the first two buttons of his shirt. "Aren't you supposed to dance, sugar?"
I turned my back on him. How could Trent have brought me such a man? How could Trent want to pass me around amongst his editors like some party favor? What made it even more infuriating was that the idea of being passed around turned me on.
Maybe I liked being a dirty slut.
I swayed my hips, finding the rhythm in the bluesy rock now pulsating through the joint. I grabbed my ass and spread the cheeks, bending double to give my customer the full view.
He growled something like, "Oh, yeah, baby," but the music was too loud for me to be sure.
I'd have to crawl in his lap at some point. I'd have to shove my breasts in his face and rub them against his stubbly cheeks. The first song was nearly over.
Slowly, I turned, my fingers still clamped around my nipples, kneading them painfully. Then I froze.
Mike's tie was gone. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing an expanse of smooth, tight skin and muscles. That man spent a lot of time at the gym. You could see it in his perfect pecks and six-pack abdomen. His torso was more beautiful than any I'd ever seen. I wanted to lick his nipples. I wanted to touch that chest.
Movement drew my eyes lower. His fingers undid the leather belt he was wearing. Slowly. Teasingly. He dropped the belt on the floor. His fingers found his fly and unbuttoned the top button. I was just able to discern the sound of the zipper in a momentary lull between rock songs. I forgot that he was an asshole and a stranger. All I wanted was to see his hand dip into his pants and pull out the cock that had made such an impressive bulge.
He chuckled low in his throat and I tore my eyes away from his busy hands.
"I'm not interested in dancing, honey. Trent said you'd play along, maybe touch me a little." He paused long enough to extend a hand in my direction. I grasped it, allowing him to pull me nearer. Then he used his other hand to pull out his beautiful cock, making me gasp with shock and admiration. It was at least nine inches long, and thick. The head looked like a ripe plum — deep purple in the low light — sweet and juicy. The sight of it made me gush and tremble.
"I'm not going to fuck you," I said hoarsely, and even to me it sounded almost like a question. "But I'll do this," I added, hastily stepped out of my thong, and climbed into his lap, positioning my cunt against the length of his cock.
When the music picked up, I began to rock my hips, sliding up and down his cock, my pussy aching with the need to be filled. I felt so hungry — famished — sweat breaking out across my back and saliva collecting in my mouth.
I was rubbing my cunt against the cock of a total stranger. A stranger, whose hands were on my ass, kneading my butt while directing my speed. A stranger, whose teeth were on my neck, whose growl was in my ear.
I wanted that plum-head in my mouth. I could almost taste it.
And I'd finger-fucked Angela... It was only fair that if I made her come, I make them all come, right? And would it be so terrible to suck his cock? Especially since he was so hard and worked up already? He'd probably blow his load in a matter of seconds.
"I want to fuck you," he hissed.
"I'm not going to fuck you," I hissed back, though it took some amount of willpower. "I'm going to suck you."
"Then do it," he grunted and let go.
I scrambled out of his lap and kneeled between his knees, while he wound his hands in my hair and shoved his cock in my face. Greedily, I wrapped my lips around the shaft and sucked the head into my mouth. He tasted of my cunt. He smelled of my cunt. It was so familiar and warm, almost comforting.
I grabbed his balls with one hand, his shaft with the other, and furiously began to suck, and tug, and massage. He was thrusting into me, his hands forcing my head down further than was normally comfortable. "Here it comes, babe," he growled and seconds later spewed hot cum down my throat.
I swallowed hard. Gulping for air as his spicy cum slid deep down inside me, my eyes watering from the effort, my mouth feeling strangely stretched and sore.
He hooked a finger under my chin and lifted my face to meet his sparkling eyes. "Fuck, that was good. You ever do that for the boss?"
I shook my head, hardly believing what I'd just done. He ran a thumb across my lips. "Hah!" he said, grinning again. "You're a damned good stripper, Sophia."
I put my thong back on and he buttoned up his shirt, replaced the belt, slid back into his jacket, slapped my ass, and offered me an arm.
He was still an asshole and a stranger. But I took his arm anyway.
We found the others at their table and slid into the only two vacant chairs. I expected Mike to boast that he'd gotten me to blow him. Instead, he casually lit a cigarette and grinned.
"She's that good, huh?" Colin jeered, cuffing Mike playfully in the arm. Colin looked at me and said, "He always bitches about strippers ripping him off. He never comes back without a complaint."
My Trent, sitting on Colin's other side, gazed at me curiously. He handed me a cigarette and leaned across the table to light it for me. Then he held out a shot glass. "I ordered your favorite," he said, his voice as smooth as ever.
"Thank you." I took the shot graciously and tipped it back without hesitation, licking my lips before taking the lime. Silver Patron, my absolute favorite. The others clapped appreciatively.
"One more," Angela said, and handed me another full shot glass I hadn't noticed. I nodded, amused, and took the second shot. They all clapped again and it was Colin who handed me the third.
"Oh no, no, no." Giggling, I tried to push his hand away. But Trent caught my hand before I could and raised his eyebrows.
"You don't have to worry about us. You can relax, remember? It's okay. We'll treat you well. Take the shot. Have fun."
Relax, have fun. Right. I'd already crossed boundaries. Big boundaries.
And the next guy, Colin, was good-looking enough. Not to mention my handsome businessman, whom I was saving for last. Was it so bad to finally have some good, kinky fun (especially since I was getting paid for it)?
How was slurping on three different cocks at a strip club different than attending a gang bang in a college dorm room? Money. So... if I get to have sex with four beautiful people, who buy me drinks and cigarettes and compensate me for my time, does that make me a whore?
I decided I didn't care. I downed the third shot and finished my cigarette.
"Come on, Colin, your turn." Grinning, I took his hand and headed for the back.
* * *
The alcohol rushed straight through my system. My fingers and toes tingled, the smooth burn cured the sore feeling in my mouth.
I wanted to scream and laugh, to dance, fuck, and get myself off.
When Colin and I reached the back, he never even sat down. I just stood there for a second, wondering what the holdup was.
He looked down at me — gosh, he was tall and I hadn't even noticed — a sheepish grin on his boyish face. The expression he wore was almost one of embarrassment. Like a kid caught in a lie.
"Are you gonna sit down?"
He cleared his throat and laughed nervously. "Um, yeah, I guess I could." He cleared his throat again. "Look, I don't know what the deal is with you. Trent says you're real friendly. And I'm married..."
"I'm not going to fuck you," I said, almost defensively.
"I didn't think you would," he quickly interjected. "But Angela said you fucked her with your fingers — she's really hot, I don't blame you — and you must have done something with Mike or he'd have come back all riled up..."
He was so nervous it was almost endearing. Quite the contrast to Mike. He kept reaching up to brush strands of rich brown hair from his forehead, and adjusted his tie twice in the two minutes we'd been in the back. I waited for him to finish.
"Here's the thing: My wife and I have a deal." He paused and laughed. "Some things are okay and others are off-limits. Unfortunately, lap dances are off limits, it's a thing she has, and I didn't want to say anything..."
"...in front of the guys."
"Right. And you already said you're not going to fuck me so that's good because fucking is also off-limits."
"What about this?" I asked and shut him up with a kiss. Patience is one of the first things to fly out the window when I start drinking.
His response was hesitant at first, but he eventually wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight, so close that I could feel his hardening cock brush against my stomach. The so-recent memory of Mike's purple cockhead in my mouth made my cunt twitch. Colin's cock wasn't in the same league, but it was getting hard and that's what my pussy was demanding. A hard cock. I broke the kiss and looked up at Collin expectantly.
"Kissing is okay," he gasped.
"What else?"
"No blow jobs."
"Damn." The word slipped out involuntarily.
Colin laughed. "No blow jobs for me. But I can go down on you. And I definitely want to." His words came out rushed, as though he had to get them out before his courage failed. "I want you on your knees so I can lick you everywhere. And I want to jerk myself off until I come on your ass."
I giggled. Surely, he wasn't serious.
But his smile faltered and he stood there, waiting.
"Um, wouldn’t that make a mess?"
"I grabbed napkins from the bar." He pulled a wad of napkins from his pocket.
I looked at him for another second, shrugged, then stripped off my thong and dropped to my hands and knees.
He was on me in an instant, diving in savagely without preamble. He ran his tongue the length of my slippery lips and up until he found my anus. He teased me there for a long time — sucking, licking, pushing — before he spread my pussy lips with both hands and sucked my clit down his throat.
It felt good. Too good. My head was spinning with pleasure and tequila, my arms and legs trembling under his assault. He brought me moaning and squirming with short, strong strokes along the length of my hard-on.
I was still gasping for air when he slapped his cock against my ass. Seconds later I felt the boiling hot splash across my ass, dripping down my crack. Colin grunted appreciatively and quickly mopped up the mess he'd made, careful to wipe my anus and cunt.
Colin wrapped his arms around my waist and held me for a minute with his cock still hanging out of his pants. "My wife is gonna love this story."
* * *
“Are you having fun, honey?” Trent asked, lowering me into his lap, onto his hard cock still hidden beneath expensive gray slacks. It was finally his turn in the back.
“Oh yes,” I sighed, rubbing myself against the hardness.
“You fingered Angela, you blew Mike, and Colin ate you.” He paused long enough to chuckle and nibble my bottom lip, while I raked my fingers through his thick hair. “Are you going to fuck me tonight?”
For two seconds, all the air left the room. Finally, I sucked in a breath and expelled the air with a sigh, saying, “It’s about damned time. I’ve been waiting for you to ask for months.”
“Mmm,” he groaned, and slipped a finger under my panties. “Damn, you’re wet.”
“I need your cock.” Two fingers slid up inside me and I gasped. “I’d blow you first, but I really need to fuck. After touching you so many times, I just want to do it already.”
“Whatever you want, baby.” He gently lifted me out of his lap and stood, unbuttoned his slacks and dropped them to the floor where they pooled around his ankles. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His throbbing cock stood fully erect – not quite as long as Mike’s, but thicker. He fisted it and pumped a few times with a grunt, before resuming his seat. “Let’s do it.”
The feral smile cutting across his handsome face almost made me lose focus. But I quickly ditched the thong and crawled into his lap. I reached a hand between us and grasped his shaft, guiding it to my slippery entrance.
The hot head pressed into me and wedged its way up inside as I struggled to take all of that thick cock into my cunt. Trent clamped a hand over my mouth before I could scream or moan when I reached the base, the tips of his balls brushing my ass.
“Now ride it,” he groaned in my ear. “Fuck it hard. I want to come inside you.”
I ground my hips hard and then found a rhythm with the music, bouncing off his cock. Trent kept up a steady stream of, “Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck it hard, just like that, damn you’re hot, fuck it hard, oh yeah.”
He reached around and teased my anus while I rode him. “Yes, please,” I hissed through gritted teeth and he inserted a finger, fucking me there, too. The pressure was building with blinding speed. “I’m coming,” I moaned and thrust harder until my cunt contracted and exploded, swallowing the load he shot inside.
* * *
The four of them had left an hour ago, but Trent promised he’d be waiting for me in the parking lot. At 2 a.m., I walked outside and saw him leaning casually against the side of a black limousine. He beckoned me over and opened the door. I climbed inside, hoping he wanted an encore.
I was surprised to find Angela, Colin, and Mike inside. Trent climbed in and shut the door. The limo pulled out of the lot.
“We’re just going to ride for a bit and talk,” Trent said, correctly interpreting my immediate concern. “I told you I had a proposal.” He paused.
“So, what’s the proposal?”
“We’ve talked about it and would love for you to work with us. Our secretary just quit and we’re kind of in a bind. It would be a full time position – a nine-to-five kind of gig – with benefits and a very attractive salary.” He paused. Nothing would come out of my mouth. Trent grinned slyly, “You’d have to quit stripping. That’s a condition of the job. There will be a lot of training. And aside from obvious clerical work, you’ll have… other duties.”
“Other duties?” I finally croaked, still unable to believe what I was hearing.
“We get to fuck you at the office and on business trips,” Mike said.
“And you need to give some head if we’re too stressed,” Angela added.
“Oh, and you’ll have to take some online classes for that degree you keep saying you want to get eventually…” Trent was saying, almost as an afterthought.
“And, since this is a job interview, you’ll have to fuck us all in the limo before the interview is concluded,” Mike interrupted. “Starting with me.”
Trent looked serious. I was single. I’d be a secretary for a big firm in one of its top offices. Plenty of people slept their way to the top, right?
“Deal.” I was almost laughing. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
“Show us,” Mike said, leering, “how grateful you are.”
He unbuckled his belt while Trent unzipped his pants and Angela hiked up her skirt. Colin reached into his pants and started rubbing his cock.
I slipped out of my clothes and got on my knees, kneeling in front of my CEO, and licked his balls with an appreciative moan.
Mike’s hands were on my ass, that purple-cockhead pressing into me. I sucked Trent’s head into my mouth and groaned as that thick, nine-inch cock slid deep into me.
“You start Monday,” Trent grunted.
“Don’t wear panties,” Mike groaned.
I moaned my assent.
Originally published April 2009