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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
With the house lights down and only a small spotlight on me, I bent down to pick up my few discarded clothes from the stage floor. From the reaction of the audience with shouts of: “Encore, encore,” “Show us more of your pussy,” and “Let me fuck you,” I knew that they saw my raised tush and my exposed pussy. Wiggling my naked bottom at the audience, I drew more reaction. Flattered and breathing hard, I blew a few kisses to the patrons. Someone threw a wad of money onto the floor. Thanking the guy, I wiped my black G-string through my wet, naked pussy and tossed it to him. He was obviously very delighted because he sniffed and licked the little piece of lace.As I picked up the money, I saw a young man drooling over my naked body. I walked over to him, squatted, and with the spotlight still on me, I opened my legs to his gaze and handed him my bra. He nearly fainted, poor chap. He must have blown his load in his pants because I saw a dark spot growing at the groin of his khaki trousers.That was my last of three shows of the evening, and I had a very important client waiting in my dressing room. Walking passed the girls who were getting ready for the next floor show, I was still on a high. My body tingled and glowed, my nipples erect and my pussy leaking down my legs. I realized the power I could generate with the slit between my legs. Not only to make men do silly things, but also the effect it had on me. The pleasure I received from my pussy, not just from the power it had over men, was mind-blowing. I was on an aroused mental and physical state that took me time to get off it. It didn’t help that I had a client waiting.“Mrs. Big Shot” wasn’t what I expected. I thought she would be a young trophy wife, blond, beautiful and full of cheap class. Instead, sitting on a chair with her knees firmly locked, was an early forty-something demure woman, hiding her beauty behind a long-suffering housewife image dressed in a drab grey dress. The shock in her eyes when she saw me standing naked in front of her, brought me down a notch or two from the ecstasy of the men’s adulation. She quickly averted her eyes to find something safe to look at. Unlucky for her, my fellow entertainers were also naked or semi-naked. She stood up and looked me in the eyes. My five foot almanbahis şikayet eleven inches strong frame towered above her five four.“Don’t you have any shame?” she asked me, hands on her hips and afraid to look anywhere else but into my blue eyes. “Parading naked in front of those filthy men, lusting after your body.” She had to strain her neck not to look at my full, firm tits.“Listen, Darling,” I said, moving closer to her, pressing my boobs into her face. “It is because of stuck up women like you that those ‘filthy men,’ as you called them, come here to worship womanhood.” I have had this conversation with too many frigid women like this poor housewife, to get caught up in another argument that would go nowhere.“Women are not sex objects to be lusted after, you know,” she shot back, retreating away from me, only to fall back onto the chair. I quickly moved closer. Putting my hands on the armrests of the chair, my tits swinging in front of her, I looked into her eyes.“Then why are you here?”“I… I… my husband… eh…”“Is hubby cheating on you, lusting after another woman?”“Ye…., yes.”“And you want me to get the proof?”“Please.”“Why?” I was enjoying our little tit for tat show.Leaving her, I removed my red wig and moved to the dressing table to clean off my make-up. She didn’t say anything, she just stared at me, looking at my naked body. I walked to shower in the clubs communal showers for the girls. The club was a 19th century church converted into an upper market gentleman’s club. I was the star attraction and I also moonlight as a private investigator, or what I liked to call it: Janine for Discreet Investigations.The showers had no doors.I pulled her chair closer to the showers. Mrs. Big Shot sat wide-eyed, as stiff as a stripper’s pole.Getting under the warm water of the shower, I rinsed off all the hard work of the day.“Who’s the cheating bastard?” I asked her. Washing between my legs, I inadvertently touched my still engorged clit, sending pleasure waves through my pussy. My knees wobbled as I increased the friction on my pleasure knob and sticking my fingers into my wet cunny.Then she told me.“Jesus H Christ!” I stammered, two fingers frozen in my cunt. This was no ordinary big shot. This was Mr. Big himself.“Pardon my French,” I apologized almanbahis canlı casino to her. “You can’t be serious?”“I am deadly serious,” she said.“This is Hollywood, lady. Everybody screws everybody else,”But she didn’t look like she was kidding. I was beginning to feel sorry for her. I started to stimulate my clit again. Masturbating was one of my habits that helped me to think better. Steadying myself by holding onto the taps of the shower with one hand, I snuck a finger into my pussy and continued to rub my clit with my thumb. How would I get close to Mr. Big without attracting suspicion? I asked myself. I just had to use Mrs. Big to get to Mr. Big, or maybe seduce him as the proof she needed. I first had to make sure that she was Mrs. Big herself….I turned to her to tell her my plan and there she was: Mrs. Big had her dull grey dress pulled up to her hips, her white panties around her ankles and her right hand rubbing her exposed pussy as if her life depended on it. Her left hand clasped the armrest of the chair so hard I thought she might break it.“What the fuck?” I was shocked, to say the least, but she didn’t seemed to care what I saw. I knew that she was passed the point of no return. She had to climax and maybe I was just the one to help. I quickly dried myself and dropped between her spread legs. Removing her hand from her clit, I inspected her beautiful bald wet pussy. I used my fingers to open her labia to give me access to her clit. Flicking my tongue over the pleasure knob I snuck a finger into her wet canal. I finger fucked her while I sucked on her clit, bringing her to a strong orgasm.Spent, she dropped lower on the chair, hanging on her outstretched arms, her legs splayed obscenely. I pulled up her white cotton panties and made her presentable. There was something about this whole setup that smelled fishy to me, and it wasn’t her pussy. This woman wasn’t the conservative type, just pretending to be one. And Mr. Big, was she really his wife? I had to find out.Dressed in my short black dress, with a low cut in front and back leaving little to the imagination, I was ready to tackle this case. As I put on my high heels, I showed my naked pussy to Laura. This time, she didn’t bat an eyelid. After I’ve put on my blond wig almanbahis casino over my short raven black hair, I made a few calls from my iPhone to check out her story. Taking a picture of the demure Mrs. Big, I also texted it to a previous client in the film industry. My contacts assured me that she was who she said she was. Then I hit the jackpot. My cintact at the LAPD informed me that Mr. Big was spotted at an inconspicuous swinger’s club in Beverley Hills. This contact emailed me an invitation for two plus the password.I told Mrs. Big my plan. She wasn’t keen to do it.“Listen, Mrs. Big…..”“Please, call me Laura.”“Well, Laura,” I said with an attitude. “If you want to find out with whom your hubby is cheating on you, this is the time and place.”“Can’t you just go and take some photos?” she pleaded.“Maybe you need to learn something too,” I said.“And what would that be?”“Honesty, for one.”I knew she couldn’t go to a swinger’s party dressed like an old maid. I borrowed a glitter dress from one of my stripper colleagues and a pair of high heels. I stripped Laura naked. Her body was divine, with droopy but still succulent tits, a little bulge on her tummy and a smooth vulva and sexy legs. She was all natural in a land of fake make-believe. I started to really care about her. Applying make-up for the night to her beautiful mature face, I wondered what I got myself into. I knew she would be able to pay my usual outrageous fee, but why couldn’t she hire professional gumshoes. I shook off the feelings and looked at her again. Her short, slightly grey hair would be a dead giveaway. I had her put on one of my other blond wigs and also left out her underwear.“I can’t go without my panties,” she begged me. “I feel so naked, exposed.”“That’s the whole idea,” I said as we walked to my small Toyota. “Tonight, you are a pussy on the prowl.”“I’m not like you….” She said, pointing at my lack of underwear.“You’re a woman, right?”She nodded her head.“You love your husband, right?”“Yes.”“You want him back?”Another nod.“And, you love to fuck women?”“Yes, god, yes,” she said. “When you licked my pussy, I died and gone to heaven. I love the soft touch of a woman, her soft tits, and her sensual lips. When you danced on that stage earlier, I fell in love with you, with all women over and over again.”“Then why do you want your husband back,” I needed to know. “Why not get a divorce?”“I love a man’s erection pumping in me. I love his cum in my mouth. A dildo or a vibrator is no match for a throbbing cock.” She was on a high.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32