Something to chew on

It was my last Saturday working in my temporary city office and my last chance to conveniently visit my usual haunt, just a few blocks away. It was just before Christmas so I had a good excuse to disappear for a while - I was going to get 'malled.' The mall would be crowded so I could pad my time away from home with a short trip down the street.

The streets are usually pretty deserted on late Saturday afternoons, but as I headed towards the club, the theatre across from the side street I was to turn down was emptying out after the matinee. It was a family show so lots of kids and parents filed down the opposite side of the street. I scanned the crowd for familiar faces and picked up my pace. I did my trenchcoat thing and hunched my shoulders, looked down and scurried down the side street.

It was a typically slow afternoon in the club. A few patrons, a lone dancer with no one at the stage, everything seemingly moving in slow motion. I got my soda at the bar (an alcoholic drink would put me to sleep before the afternoon is over) and sat down near the stage. P was on stage. I seem to remember her from a few years ago; a 20-something Hispanic girl with a few extra pounds here and there. They were not unpleasant memories. I went up to the stage and settled in.

P came over and welcomed me by offering her tits for me to rub my face in. It's a bikini bar and they have been hassled lately for violating the no-nude rule so she tried to be discreet. She made a few other typical stripper moves - kneeling backwards & and leaning her ass towards me so her pussy was outlined in her stretched-thin G-string; resting on her side and raising her leg so her bulging lips started to escape the fabric; sitting on the edge of the stage with her feet on my chair, pulling down her waistband and showing off her neatly trimmed mons. Needless to say, I was getting interested.

Her set was over and she turned over the stage to a rather disinterested dancer who went through the motions when she noticed I was there. I expected P to go sit at the bar or chat with a regular customer, but I saw her sit by herself across the room. I walked over and asked her for a private dance. She took me by the hand and led me to the 'private' booths.

The private dance area used to just be an open room with couches around the wall. A while ago they set up partitions along two sides of the room so two rows of love seats face each other with walls between each seat. We sat down in a corner booth. Across the way a blonde in a black bikini slithered up and down a guy who seemed lost to the world.

P took off her chiffon robe just as the next song started. I reached down my pants and made an adjustment so everthing was pointing in the right direction. I usually try not to wear jeans to a strip club because the fabric is a little too thick for good dry humping, especially around the zipper, but I didn't want to arouse suspicion at home by wearing something I wouldn't ordinarily wear to work.

I got comfortable and P pulled her top down and offered me her tits. I was surprised to find them to be fake because they were soft to the touch and not overly large. But you could still tell. While whe rubbed her tits in my face she got me to full attention with her knees and a little soft moaning in my ear. From there she alternated her stripper moves - sliding her tits down my body and working them over my crotch, turning away from me and clutching my cock in her ass crack, kneeling and rubbing her head on my bulge. Near the end of the first song she started rubbing her chin on my cock discreetly, looking up at me & smiling.

She asked if I wanted another dance. How could I say no? The couple across the way finished up, leaving us alone. I guess she figured I was serious if I wanted another dance so she got serious. She spent a little more time with her tits in my face and breathy moaning in my ear while brushing her hands along my shaft. She slid down and knelt between my legs. I grabbed her head when she started with her chin again and helped her get the right pressure through the denim. Her black curls were stiff with hair spray as I ran my fingers through them grabbing and hinting at some rougher play. We guided each other up and down, around and around. I could feel myself building up to quite a climax when she found my sweet spot and started chewing. That did it.

Often dancers will not know that I've finished and continue grinding or rubbing. But P knew exactly what happened, she was so close to it. She rubbed a little more and looked up with a wicked smirk. I said something lame about betting she was good at that for real thinking she might be available outside the club, but she just laughed. In fact she hardly spoke the whole time. We straightened ourselves out, hugged and went our separate ways.