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Neon-purple, soft, plush light pierced through cigarette smoke to dance on the bare, tender curves of angels. I wore a pair of loose-fit blue jeans, a black, loose-fit sweater, and a pair of glasses that allowed me a certain academic appearance. The maitred’ wore a gold vested tuxedo that said, “we allow poor men but please have class.” He also kept a goatee however untidy he tried to make it appear, and he wore a serious have-fun-while-you’re-at-it expression. Regardless of his tough demeanor, he proved to be a nice man when he remained patient with an absent minded boy who had misplaced his identification. He nodded with a smile once the young fellow had presented it.
Music thumped inside. We walked across the room in search of a table; two coolers filled with beer in tow. My sobriety encouraged my embarrassment as we surveyed the room for a table close enough to see everything, but once seated I knew that sobriety and embarrassment would soon be past issues for me. As I opened the first beer, I promised myself that I would leave with money in my pocket.
Women wound themselves into various positions with sultry grins and sensual eyes. “Would you like a dance?” This question, spoken from the painted lips of an angel, whose body promised a sexual challenge, melted my heart and soul. Her ability to approach me—slow and easy—and to place her hand upon my shoulder with gentle ease amazed me. But I was at least a beer away from a yes answer, so with a grin I said, “maybe later.” The young men that accompanied me were many beers past a yes answer and they initiated their own solicitations with immediacy.
The first woman to step upward onto our table with grace and poise was a beautiful blonde with an intelligent smile. She slid her legs around the young men’s heads, and rolled her hips with sexual sagacity. She also stood above us, hips pushed forward, hand upon her thigh, displaying herself with passion and erotic force so close to our face. She knew which positions would please her audience, and she held those positions, no matter how contorted, with almanbahis giriş a smile and apparent satisfaction as her body’s elegance and dignity pleasured us.
Numerous other women displayed their sexuality; intelligence; and raw, feminine power upon our table, but one caught my eye. She stood upon our table and stared down with such sensual strength. Her eyes swept from one young man’s gaze to the next allowing each of us equal, sexy eye-contact time. Her hips slid side to side, her buttocks tucked tight and then relaxed as she rotated her hips; her movements were so slow and fluid that she looked like a delicate fish at ease in warm water.
I had drank enough by this point that I would answer yes to almost any question asked of me. She didn’t ask me anything though, I didn’t give her time. As a bouncer helped her down off our table I walked up to her and asked for a VIP dance. I realized how awkward I must have appeared to her or at least how obnoxious as I drunkenly strolled up with a twenty-dollar-bill in hand and stumbled over my words. A welcome-home smile stretched across her face and she said, “sure.” She tried to hold my hand, but because I held money she had to wrap her arm through my arm as if I was escorting her to the high school prom. She led me to a back room where a bouncer made eye contact with me as I walked through the door. He looked at me without judgement, without question, without threat, and he made me feel comfortable. I felt that he was there to protect me as much as he was there for the angels. My heart warmed as I gazed at this young, virile man. He guarded the gate to heaven, and instead of judging my life to admit or deny me entrance, he smiled and nodded as if to say welcome old friend, we have missed you.
She sat me down on a plush couch and then took a seat beside me. Her arm rested upon my side, and she leaned into me resting her feathery weight on me. We talked for a while; she said her name was Blake, she told me about her future plans, and she asked me questions about myself… all of which almanbahis güvenilirmi I answered truthfully. I told her she was the hottest girl in the club, I asked her how much she makes a night, and I promised her I was going to give her every cent I had. As we talked, it surprised me to learn that she was younger than I was. Angelic confidence flowed inside her, and it gave her power over me. A type of power stronger and more natural than the power a senior has over their minor, but a power that I could only equate to an assumed older age.
She stood and asked me to sit in the middle of the couch. I slide over and sat with my hands beneath my buttocks, because I had always been told you weren’t supposed to touch the girls. She smiled and moved my hands to the arms of the couch as she said, “don’t sit on your hands, put them out here.” She stood and adjusted herself, preparing for her dance. I raised my hand with the twenty-dollar-bill in it to let her know I was ready to pay. “I only take the money first from guys I don’t trust… I trust you.”
I puffed my cigarette; she frowned at me and said, “I don’t like guys that smoke.” I smashed out the cigarette without further question. A psychedelic song furthered my inebriated state. She wore a neon green and yellow tube top with a green g-string that created an odd shimmer when the neon-blue-light bounced against her body. Her willingness to touch me, to not divert her eyes from my glare of desire, and to dance with eroticism stimulated me. She sat upon my lap and straddled my face with her breasts. I grimaced with lust, and she asked if her weight was hurting me. “No, no,” I answered. Perfume filled my nostrils, hair tickled my face, and passion filled my loins. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and it seemed that every inch of my body tingled. Her dainty hands slide her tube top up with ease, and she stopped just before her nipples were exposed. Slow, pause, slow, stop, go: she continued this until her nipples were bared, and my erection filled my jeans. I noticed small scars on almanbahis yeni giriş the underside of her breasts, and I wondered if she had been enhanced.
She slid her body down mine, careful not to touch my sensual parts with her sensual parts. Her strawberry-blonde hair flowed down my body: face, shoulders, arms, chest, waist, crotch, thighs, and knees. When she arrived at my knees, she turned her eyes up to meet my gaze; she tilted her head to the side and gave me a come-and-get-it smile. My erection became larger and more evident as it throbbed under my jeans. She stood, unsnapped her g-string, and let it fall to the floor. Her crotch — shaven close and thin – rotated and pressed toward me. Blake then turned away from me and her long, straight hair dangled against her lower back as she curled up her ass. She backed herself onto my lap, put her hands on the ground in front of my feet, and rested her weight on me. Her hips undulated fast, and then slow, and then she would hold them in a position that allowed me to inspect every inch of her feline parts as she stared at me over her shoulder. Tender butt cheeks tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed. Eventually the music ended, she gave me a strong kiss on the cheek, she put her tube top and g-string on with poise, grace, and sensual deliberation, and then she pulled her garter belt out for me to place the twenty under. This ritual was repeated three times, and it only stopped because she had won every last cent I carried.
I left without remorse or regret, and experienced an emotion that could be called lust or maybe love.
It wasn’t just the taunt skin, firm muscle, long legs, beautiful breasts, declivity of crotch, and defined buttocks that flexed and relaxed with every agile movement that made the experience heaven for me. It was being in the presence of intelligent, beautiful women who enjoyed, celebrated and used their sexuality with talent, grace, and poise that made the experience heaven.
My promise to leave with money in my pocket was forgotten; what good is money in heaven anyway? These women amazed me with their talents. They could dance, but most everyone can. They were sexual, but most women are. The women’s boldness, their wise demeanor, their deliberate sexuality, and their slow, easy approach provoked my astonishment, my lust, and my erection.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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