Again, posting as I write more, and don't currently have a name for this one.
Standard Disclaimer #1 (Impatience and Inevitability mix): Really, fucking random strangers without protection is... unwise. Fucking random strangers who work in strip clubs, even less wise. In short, if you're going to be laying pipe in untested ground, make sure you're wearing the appropriate PPE.
* * *
I had to spend the weekend out, again. This was the fifth time in less than three months, and I was getting tired of it. My dispatcher knew I wasn't happy with it, and he told me to get a hotel room, and they'd cover it.
After I got into town and found a hotel with truck parking, relatively close to the customer, I did the usual things. I didn't plan to go back out to the truck unless I had to, so, after carrying what I thought I'd need for the weekend, and spent some time cleaning it up. While I did that, I called my wife, bitched about all the weekends at home I was missing, then went inside to shower and shaved then go out to find something to eat.
After that, I went back to my room and took a nap. When I woke up, it was about eleven, and I wasn't tired anymore. It was Friday evening, and I was at loose ends until Monday morning. With nothing else to do, I fired up my laptop and started to kill time the way I usually did. Normally, I can spend hours online, reading this and that, and downloading music, audiobooks and dvds, usually porn dvds.
Tonight, though, I got bored fast. I did a quick skim through craigslist, but it was pure spam. Nothing real through three pages, and I stopped at that point. Sitting there in my hotel room, I wondered what the hell I was going to do for the next two day, when a brief memory hit me.
On the way to the hotel, I'd seen a strip-joint a couple of blocks away. If memory served me well, it'd looked like a more up-scale place than most, and after a quick check on google maps, I decided to walk the short distance and check it out.
Now, I fully realize that going to a strip-joint is quite a bit like going to a good steak house, ordering a steak, and then not being allowed to eat it. More frustration than anything, and I don't deal well with frustration, especially institutionalized frustration. On the other hand, I also knew that most strippers, in most strip-joints, are, shall we say, flexible in their morals, as well as the positions they took onstage.
If nothing else, it'd give me spank material I could put to good use, later. I got dressed, walked out to my truck, where I pulled a hundred and fifty bucks out of the cash I kept squirreled away for just such times as this, and started walking. Ten minutes later, I was paying the doorman the ten dollar cover charge, and getting a black-light stamp on the back of my hand.
Wandering into the bar, I was greeted with the usual loud music, thankfully rock, this time, instead of the god-awful country I'd had to endure the last time I was in a place like this, dim lighting not really countered by flashing lights and three separate spotlights waving around the stage, usually highlighting the dancer currently down to a pair of panties and fishnets, grinding against the mandatory stripper pole like it owed her money. Not subtle or artistic, but nasty and erotic as fuck.
The place was packed, and there were scantily-clad waitress circulating, delivering drinks and taking money, and I wondered if the waitresses were dancers between sets. I wormed my way through the crowd, up to the bar, and ordered a beer. Beer in hand, I wandered, taking in the sights. I saw a couple of waitresses (I assumed they were waitresses, anyway) sitting on laps, and both they and the patron they were sitting on were ignoring the "No Hands!" rule the doorman had informed me of. I didn't actually see any tits out, or dicks, but I definitely saw hands under skirts, up tight shirts, down pants or in through zippers. That probably explained the doorman's wide grin when he'd said "No hands."
As I was passing a small table with a couple, a man and a woman, they got up, and the guy turned to me and said, "Table's open, if you want." I tipped my beer at him, he smiled and waved back at me, and I parked myself and turned to enjoy the show on-stage.
As I was getting comfortable, the current song came to an end, and the next one started, accompanied by the usual DJ chatter that boils down to, "Tip the waitresses, give the girls a big hand, and give them money, too." The girl on-stage stopped dry-humping the pole and, turning her back to the audience, hooked her thumbs into top of her fishnets and slowly, teasingly, started to pull them down. It took her the entire duration of the song, three or four minutes, but she was finally down to just her panties, and for the duration of the next song, she went back to grudge-fucking the pole.
A waitress stopped at my table and, raising her voice to be heard over the noise, asked, "You need another beer, big guy?"
"Yeah, another of the same," I told her.
"Four bucks," she said, and I gave her a five, telling her to keep the change. I figured a dollar for walking to the bar and back again should be a decent tip. She was back shortly, leaning over my shoulder to place my new beer on the table, which incidentally meant she had to press her tits against me to reach it.
"Like the show?" she asked, her mouth close enough to my ear I could feel her breath as she spoke.
"Yeah," I agreed. The woman on-stage was pretty damn good-looking, long blonde hair, big tits I was fairly sure weren't factory original, but for bolt-ons, looked good, slender body and a great ass.
The waitress came around and slid into my lap. She surprised the hell out of me when she did, but I sure wasn't going to argue. She giggled as she settled herself, and I know she could feel my hard-on when she deliberately ground her ass against me. Half-turning, she said, "You can get a private dance for fifty, in one of the back rooms. If you like, though, I could give you a private-private dance somewhere else, for a hundred. Take all night, if you want." Then she got back to her feet and stretched provocatively, making sure I got a good look at what was on offer. Leaning back toward me, she asked, "What'd you think?"
I liked what she was offering. She was a black woman, with maybe a dash of latina, a bit on the short side, maybe five foot three, five foot four, with shoulder-length black hair in ringlets, big tits, broad hips, a few pounds on her over and above the current standard of beauty, but well within my parameters of attractiveness. The tight tee-shirt and mid-thigh-length skirt she was wearing certainly didn't detract from her figure.
"I can certainly think of worse ways to spend my time," I told her with a grin.
She grinned back at me. "I get off..." I smirked at that, and she giggled, and I think she might have blushed a little, but between her skin color and lighting, I couldn't be sure, and she went on, "I get off work in a half-hour. Enjoy the show, and I'll meet you around back after they shoo everyone out."
"Works," I said, and, with a wink, she moved back into the crowd, taking orders and heading to the bar. Looking back up, I was just in time to see the dancer, stepping out of her panties and striking a pose, now only wearing the skimpiest pair of red panties I've ever seen. The DJ went through the usual, "Give it up for the beautiful Roseann!" Then, a few seconds later, as Roseann scooped up her scattered clothes, and the money equally scattered on the small stage, he went on, "And now, a big welcome to our next lovely lady, Susanna!"
Susanna was brunette, medium height, with smaller tits than Roseann, wearing a very frilly white dress with blue trim, and matching hair ribbons, stockings and shoes. If she'd been holding a shepherd's crook, I'd have said Bo Peep. Without, I figured, probably going for the innocent school-girl look. Over the next half-hour or so, Susanna slowly shed layer after layer of frilly, lacy fabric, finally ending up wearing a pair of blue-trimmed white thong panties, almost as non-existent as Roseann's, her shoes, and a short pair of filmy white knee-high socks.
I'm not ashamed to admit (well, not too ashamed, anyway) that along with nurses, brides and cheerleaders, school-girls are one of my top kinks, and I was rock-hard by the time Susanna was done. As she stood there, showing us what she had, then the DJ came back on, segueing from her final song, something about Shake It to Closing Time. "And let's hear it for Susanna! And like the song says, 'you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!' We're closing, but from everyone here at the Gilded Lily, we hope you've enjoyed your night with us, and we hope to see you back here tomorrow night!"
Taking that as my cue, I drained my beer, the third of the evening, and, getting to my feet, joined the slow throng heading to the door. It took a couple of minutes, but I finally made it outside to the parking lot, and from there, around to the back. I knew there was a chance it was a setup – lure me around back, for a convenient, out of the way mugging, but unless there were more than, say, three of them, with guns, I wasn't too worried. After all, I hadn't spent all of my time in Korea drinking and screwing.
As I turned the corner, I saw the waitress who'd propositioned me coming the other way. "There you are!" she said cheerfully. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" Coming right up to me, she stood on tip-toe, obviously angling for a kiss, while sliding one hand down my front to cup my rigid cock through my pants. Breaking the kiss, she took a half-step back, looked up at me and said, "Damn, you're a big bastard!"
At six foot four, I was about a foot taller than she was, and, placing my right hand palm down on the top of my head, said, "Yep, I'm this tall."
She giggled at that, and said, "Well, I like 'em tall, and it looks like you'll do. Where you parked?"
Waving toward the direction of my hotel, I said, "Truck's parked a couple blocks that way, at the hotel."
Looking up at me, she half-grinned and half-smirked. "Truck, huh? You a trucker, then?"
"Yep, that's me. In town til Monday, and after that, who knows. They won't tell me until I get unloaded."
"Well, then, let's go see your truck. I've never done it in a semi before, and I've always wanted to." Taking my hand, she said, "I'm parked back here. Let's bust a move, then we can bust a nut or two."
"Works for me," I agreed. "By the way, I'm Tim."
"Hey, Tim, glad to meet you." The emphasis on the word 'meet' was obvious. "Or should I say, I'll be glad for you to meat me? Anyway, I'm Shawna." She giggled then.
"Well, Shawna, I'm glad to meat you, whichever way you want to take it."
"Oh, I take it all sorts of ways," she said, giggling louder.
She didn't have much of a car, but it got us there, and a couple minutes later I was unlocking the driver's-side door and helping her up into the cab. "Don't you have any lights in here?" Shawna asked.
"Yeah, but I've got the dome light turned off," I said, following her up. "I don't like all that light every time I open the door." Once I was inside and had the door closed and locked, I said, "Ready for some light now?"
"Sure, light 'er up," she said, so I flipped on the sleeper lights, the dim ones, not the really bright set.
I could see her looking around, then sit on the edge of the bunk. "I was going to ask about privacy," Shawna said, "but it looks like you've already got that covered. You must have been planning ahead when you parked."
"Not really," I said, standing between the front seats. "I just didn't want the sun shining in here and overheating things. It works pretty good for this, too, though."
She laughed at that, then pulled her shirt off over her head, showing the lacy black bra holding her tits in place. "Don't just stand there," she said, and I quickly followed her lead. She was bending over the bunk, sliding her panties down as I was kicking out of the last of my clothes, and I was strongly tempted to just step forward, grab her by the hips and sink my almost painfully hard cock into her shaven pussy.
Shawna must have felt the same way. She looked over her should at me and said, "C'mon and gimme that dick!" wiggling her ass at me as she spoke.
"Sounds good," I said, and did just what I'd really wanted to, stepping up to her, spitting in my hand, rubbing it over the head of my cock, then stroking it up and down her slit a few times until she parted for me, then slowly pushing into her a bit at a time, pulling out, then pushing in a bit deeper, until I was buried in her as deeply as I could manage.
She was loose enough I could tell I was far from the first guy to fuck her, but it still felt pretty damn good. Shawna may not have been tight as a virgin, but she was obviously experienced, and I'll take experience any day. She was moving her ass around, pushing back against me just as hard as I was thrusting into her, letting loose a constant stream of nasty talk, interspersed with grunts, gasps and moans, and reaching back with one hand to rub her clit.
"Oh, fuck me! C'mon, gimme that cock! Gimme it hard, fucker!" and more along those lines, to which I answered, "Oh, fuck yeah! Feels fucking great! I'm going to fuck you so fucking hard!" and, again, more along those lines. I felt the warning signs before long, and grunted out, "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" Her reply was "Fucking give me that cum! Fucking fuck me good and shoot my pussy full!"
"Oh fuck..." I got out, then grabbed Shawna's ass even tighter as I ground into her as hard as I could while I pumped her pussy full of cum, just as she told me to. I felt her fingers moving harder and faster on her clit, and she stiffened, then went through several quivering spasms and gasped "Oh oh oh... Oh fuck! Fucking fuck me you fucker! Fuck!"
(Yes, fuck is an amazingly versatile word. It's virtually a language unto itself.)
When Shawna stopped shaking, she pulled forward, then turned around and got on her knees in front of me, then took my still-twitching cock, still dribbling cum, into her mouth and sucked the last drop out. Pulling back with a slight gasp of breath, she said, "I'm going to suck you off, then I say we go to your room, shower, and then really have some fun."
"Sound's good," I said, as she leaned back forward, my cock sliding between her parted lips until the head was buried in the back of her throat. "And that feels fucking good, too," I added, putting my hands on her head out of instinct.
Shawna pulled back again and looked up at me. "Don't you go skull-fucking me," she warned, "but if you wanna set the pace, well, you go right ahead." Then she giggled and went back to it.
I've been lucky enough to get a lot of blowjobs in my life. Six years in Korea, and I don't know how many bar-girls I'd fucked, and at over a dozen TDY's to the Philippines, and I don't know how many more bar-girls there, not to mention a couple of TDYs to Thailand and several years of hookers, stateside, means many, many blowjobs. Shawna wasn't the best I'd ever had (that honor, as best I can remember, would either go to an underage latina hooker I met in Florida or an underage bar-girl I met in the PI), but she was still damn good, better than I'd had in at least the last several years.
It took somewhere between five and ten minutes, I think, (I certainly wasn't going to waste my time looking at a clock when I was getting my dick sucked) before I had to warn her, "Oh, fuck, Shawna, I'm gonna cum!" As I got out the last word, I blew in her mouth. I'd been saying things like, "Oh, that feels fucking good!" and various variations on that theme for the last several minutes, but somehow Shawna knew what I meant this time, probably because she could feel my cock swelling as it jammed into the back of her throat. She pushed forward harder than ever, burying her nose in my pubes, and held herself there, the head actually in her throat, as I came.
Finally, though, she pulled back, gasping for air, then looking up at me with a wide grin on her face, mingled spit and cum dribbling down her chin and onto her heaving tits. "Good thing I don't have much of a gag reflex," she said before wiping her chin clean with her fingers, which she then licked clean, then repeated with what'd dripped onto her tits.
Getting to her feet, she reached down and wrapped one hand around my still half-hard cock. "Ready for that shower?"
"Yep," I said. "Want me to scrub your back?"
"I can think of a lot more fun things," she said, smirking up at me, "but that's a start."
We pulled enough clothes on to go outside, then got out of the truck and into my room. When we got there, Shawna saw my laptop sitting on the room's small table and asked, "You got any porn on that thing?"
"A bit," I modestly said. "Maybe fifty thousand pictures, and a hundred or so dvds, and a couple hundred shorter videos."
"Fifty thousand pictures?" she asked, sounding a bit surprised.
"Yeah, well, it used to be seven hundred and fifty thousand, but I've been weeding it out pretty hard the last year or so."
"You're going to have to show me some of that, later on," she said, "but for now, let's get that shower, and then we can get down to it."
"Just a sec," I told her, going over to the small bag I keep all of my pills, first aid stuff and the like, and got out my bottle of viagra. "This might come in handy."
"Whatta ya got?" Shawna asked, sounding awfully interested.
"'Small blue pills'," I answered.
She smiled at that and said, "Yeah, that might come in handy after all."
The shower was fun. I've always liked the combination of hot water, slippery soap and naked skin slipping and sliding around, and I was rock hard again before were were rinsing off and toweling each other dry.
Back in the main room, I started digging in my bag again. "What's it this time?" Shawna asked.
"Just these," I said holding up a small vibrating egg and a short velcro strap.
"I can see this," Shawna said, taking the egg out of my hand and testing it, "but what's that for?" pointing at the strap.
"It works like this," I told her, wrapping the strap snugly around my scrotum, just above my balls, which were hanging low after the heat in the shower. "As long as this strap is on, my balls can't pull up, and if they can't pull up, I can't cum."
"Oh, I see," she said. "So, between that and the viagra, you should be able to go for a while, then?"
"That's my plan," I agreed. "I guess we'll just have to see if it works."
"Okay," Shawna said, then pushed me down on the bed. "If you can't cum, I'm going to take you for a ride!" With that, she reached down and guided my cock into her wet pussy, then slammed down hard onto it with a loud grunt.