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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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The Lesbian Bar
by Anonymous (address withheld)
***
A guy sets up an interesting party. (FF, MFF, orgy,
toys)
***
Dark, smoky bar. Ceiling a little lower, I think, than
is legal. And a pair of gorgeous women peeling
deliberately out of their clothes, thrilled for once to
have an audience of their own to dance for, not the
usual males trying to mask their hopeless lust with
boredom. A packed house of women yell the dancers on,
once in a while even reaching out to them with a
proffered dollar bill. Foxy as these girls are, it's
hard for me to stay in the here and now.
The little stripper reminds me of Maria... Maria, who
stole my heart away on my very first day at Club Lust.
This girl has dark hair that tumbles in loose curls
down her back, like Maria's, and flawless tits, body
worked out and tight, but not at all like some of the
too-skinny chicks who work the clubs. (Sometimes I
can't even enjoy the show for worrying about anorexia
or heroin.)
Her face even resembles Maria's. But she's Maria in
miniature, a foot shorter, must be a size 4. Maria was
an Amazon, a perfect woman made larger than life. * On
my first day at Club Lust, Maria hiked her wasabi-
colored Spandex dress up over her ass and slowly spun
round the brass pole, flashing flushed-pink pussy at
all the men... and at me.
'God,' I thought, 'I'm gonna love this job.'
Tonight her tiny look-alike swivels her hips and hikes
her tight skirt up just that way. She's dancing to
"Cream," maybe the sexiest of sexy Prince songs. Maria
loved that song. We even danced together to it once.
What a dance.
"Cream," Prince purrs through the club's bass-heavy
sound system, "Get on top..."
Fred had called to give me some business. He knew all
about my job at Club Lust because he was my accountant.
In fact he was the one to point out to me that my
legitimate business write-offs included wigs, rubber
dresses, lingerie and condoms, if I got into any
mischief on the side.
"My birthday's coming up," he'd said on the phone, "and
you know I always throw a big party. Well, this one's
my fortieth, and I want something special, a girl-girl
show and I thought you might know someone you'd like to
work with. Hey, it's only fair I should give you a shot
at earning back some of the money you pay me for doing
your taxes."
That Fred! What a sweet guy.
"Do I ever know someone!" I said. "A long, tall drink
of water, Fred. I'll get right back to you." I hung up
and called Maria.
"It's a special show," I told her. "I mean, it's his
birthday, and he is my accountant. But he's also like
this big dyke trapped in a man's body. All his friends
are lesbians. I don't think I've ever known him to
socialize with men. All the guests at this party will
be women. If you want to do this gig with me, we have
to do it right. They'll all be able to spot fake lesbo
action. They want the genuine article."
Maria said she didn't think we'd have a bit of trouble
delivering the real thing.
"Great," Fred said when I called him back. "A hundred
and fifty bucks each, okay, and be here at nine on
Saturday. I want it to be a surprise, so come dressed
like you're guests."
Maria and I pulled up at his hilltop home just before
nine o'clock, dressed in pressed designer jeans and
silk shirts, which is what I figured most of Fred's
lesbian friends would be wearing. Whenever I ran into
Fred and his pals at a club, the women were well-
groomed professionals. I supposed all the dyke
accountants in town would be there, probably a lawyer
or two or three, and who knows who else. Not really the
kind of women Maria or I socialized with, usually, but
we could certainly dress the part.
Sure enough, Fred gave us the thumbs-up when he
answered the door.
"We'll do the show in about half an hour," he
whispered. "Everybody ought to be here by then. Just go
ahead and mingle. Leslie made a huge bowl of pasta
primavera--help yourselves."
Of the 30 women who were at the party, only Leslie--
Fred's roommate--was in on it. At 20 past, she led us
into her room so we could get ready. "Do you want any
special music?" she asked, and Maria handed her that
new Prince CD.
That was the first time I heard "Cream" following Maria
out of the bedroom when Leslie came to get us, watching
that same green dress Maria wore at work begin to hike
itself up toward her ass cheeks. Her walk was slinky, a
slow stride that cocked her hips from side to side as
she moved, and the movement itself--not her hands--
brought the skintight dress up her thighs.
By the time we had moved to the center of Fred's living
room the bottom curve of her butt showed, and I reached
out for it just like I'd always wanted to do. Oh, what
a creamy, luscious ass. Day after day I watched Maria
drive men to rock-hard distraction with that ass, and
now my palms cupped it like she was mine, all mine.
I used to have a hard time finding women to have sex
with, especially casual sex. I knew lots of women had
that problem, but that didn't make me happy about it.
Then I started doing all-girl shows at Club Lust. We
were practically all bisexual there, and not just for
the money. Even strippers who would never date other
women outside the club thought the all-girl action
shows were a big perk.
As I pushed my hands under Maria's clinging dress I
reflected for a second on the splendid irony of it: 30
pairs of lesbian eyes watched me while I explored
Maria's magnificent ass. I would probably never be in a
position to run my hands over any of their asses; for
one thing, as a bisexual woman, I often didn't feel all
that welcome in lesbian circles. And maybe if Fred
weren't paying us a hundred and fifty bucks each to get
to know each other better, Maria and I would have never
had sex. I certainly wouldn't have been so bold as to
grab her ass right away.
Nor to run my fingers up over the tight Spandex to her
breasts, just a little too large for my hands.
Maria's hands were on me, too, touching, stroking. Out
of the corner of my eye I could see Fred, looking
pleased, so far. I was certainly pleased. Nothing
feels like a tight body under tight Spandex. Nor can I
think of anything that compares with the feeling of
being stared at by myriad eyes as I start to get turned
on--it made me aware of everything, my nipples going
hard under her clever fingers, my own short skirt
riding up my ass.
Plus I had a surprise under that skirt, and now Maria
began to rub against me so she could feel it.
My hands tangled themselves up in that long, silky
brown hair. Long, tall Maria brought her mouth down to
mine--she had to bend over to kiss me, just like a man
would, and I had to tilt my head up. Prince's voice
cast a spell over me, and I pulled her down to the
floor. She knelt over me, skirt all the way up over her
magnificent ass now, her legs spread wide, straddling
me. "Cream," Prince sang, "get on top." You would have
thought Maria was starring in the video.
Very deliberately, in the exaggerated way of sex
performers, she rubbed her pussy on my strapped-on
cock. Now we did the dance lying down, and it surprised
me how quiet our audience was. At Club Lust this kind
of action would have drawn hoots and cries of
appreciation. These women sat silently, regarding us
with as much fascination, I think, as a crowd of men
would have displayed, but still as church mice.
Still, I had the best view in the place. I lay on my
back, pumping my hips up slowly, trying to keep it
sensuous. Hold off on the lewd body movements until the
crowd warms up, I thought--if it ever does. I could
look right up Maria's body, see her up on her knees
straddling me--"you're wicked cute and baby you know
it," Prince sang to her, and I could almost hear the
way she would sassily concur: "Uh-huh." Undulating on
top of me, she stroked me into real heat, running her
hands up my belly and over my breasts and inching my
skirt up and up.
Finally she revealed the strapped-on dildo. One brave
woman yelled "Woo-hoo!" when she saw it. Too bad there
weren't a few more cowgirls like her in the room.
I had a small tube of lubricant tucked in my clingy red
top. Maria removed it, then worked the Spandex up over
my head. She could really get at my breasts now, and
did, while I arched back and began to breathe hard.
Then she slicked the dildo with lube and resumed
rubbing her pussy against it, writhing now and, I could
feel, almost catching her cunt on it.
When she finally did rise up higher and position
herself on it, her ass and pussy in full view of Fred
and all his friends, she winked at me before starting
the slow slide on my cock. The weight of her body
settling onto it rubbed its base against my clit. And
she threw her head back and began to fuck me.
"Mmmmm, Cream, get on top..." Maria, fuck me good,
honey. Make these power-suit girls wet between their
legs while they try to figure out whether it's okay to
howl. She had my tits in her hands and pumped herself
on me so slowly I started to feel dizzy. She let it go
on for another song, and by the end of it I was bucking
like a little pony, fucking the slick silicone cock up
into her while she, with big, slow humping motions,
thrust down onto it. By the end of the second song she
was arching her torso over with each thrust down so
that her hair fell over her face. With each upstroke
she flipped it back.
As the third song began she lifted off me, kneeling to
one side so her ass was pointing right at the silent,
staring crowd. As she unbuckled my harness she rotated
that perfect butt in little circles, a move that, when
she did it at Club Lust, sometimes made men moan out
loud. Here the silence only deepened--which I realized
meant that all the women watching us, and Fred too,
were holding their breath simultaneously.
Maria tossed the harness and dildo aside and then
pulled me up, where--standing, though a little weak-
kneed--I felt her fingers push my skirt all the way up,
leaving my pussy unobstructed. I spread my legs for
her, rested my hands on her shoulders for balance, and
her tongue crept up to my clit and circled it
relentlessly. Just before the song's last chorus I
came.
(It's still a challenge to come standing up, but I've
learned to do it; at Club Lust the staging of the show
didn't always allow time to lie down. What was I
supposed to do, miss the orgasm?)
They never did hoot and holler, the dykes, not until
our performance was over. With the last bars of the
song we bowed, holding hands, and then slinked out just
the way we came in, returning to Leslie's bedroom--
hearing shouts and applause follow us the whole way.
The little stripper can't even take her G-string off
tonight, because we're in a public club. But she strips
down to that, and she and her dance partner caress each
other, playfully tap each other's pretty butt, and
kiss--careful to look sexy without getting the lipstick
all smeared. Got to love those sex-industry femmes!
Finally their song ends and they part, leaving the
stage one after the other. All the way off they're
still looking for tips and copped feels.
It's amazing how eager we are for other women to do
things that might get the men in the clubs a slap in
the face. But stripping for women feels nothing like
that work: It's a challenge, a shy triumph, trying to
do the familiar moves differently for their eyes, which
gaze on us with such wonder--whoever puts on a show
just for women? No wonder they don't know how to take
it.
It's been almost four years since we danced to "Cream."
Now shows for women aren't quite so rare--but still,
this club tonight is a temple where the little beauty,
this miniature Maria, dances with her sweet blonde
friend to prove we deserve to watch someone hot,
someone who's intent on making us gasp, making us howl.
And we do.
"I love that CD," Maria had said as she tugged her
dress, sweaty from the dance, over her chestnut hair.
It wasn't very personal, but her sparkling eyes said a
lot more.
"I love you, Maria," I said, meaning her dress, her
dance, her flawless ass, her creamy skin and long dark
hair, her flaming spirit.
We kissed Fred and ran out into the night.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 64