If I Were That Stripper

I wasn’t going to come in tonight. I wasn’t feeling so good and just wanted to relax at home. But then, my fucking roommate used up all my minutes on my cell phone, and I guess that motivated me to get out and make some money.

So here I am, swaying and swinging and straddling for our huge crowd of three bored guys. Fucking Midwest. It wouldn’t be like this in Chicago, I’ll bet. Then a group of guys comes in, and we’re all interested. Not just because of the strangers, but because of the familiar, that’s with them. I don’t know his name, don’t think anyone does, and I’ve never even seen him up close. I’ve only seen a few times, usually when I’m about to go home. But I remember every time. There is something different about him.
As soon as he sits down on a chair he dragged out from the table, I’m on him. I’m not going to pass this up tonight. I’ve always hated lap dances, how the customers always, fucking always try to get more than what they know they can have. How many fucking signs saying “Don’t touch the dancers” do we fucking need around here? And then I’m the one who gets in trouble if a guy gets fresh because I’m not supposed to touch the customers either.
But this is so different. He’s not touching me, and I want him to. He leans back in his chair, pounding those whiskeys like it’s water, and stares up at me. I’m not sure how drunk he might be already, but those bright green eyes are sharp and clear on me like they’re not missing a thing. I dance like I’m auditioning, and he just gives me this broken grin, this smirk that’s like the snapped straw that makes me feel so pathetic. I guess I’m just so used to men gawking up at me, loving everything I was doing. Fuck, I’m the youngest here, and the only one that actually looks like a girl, of course, I’m the star whenever I come in. But this guy isn’t impressed, and he’s really enjoying making me feel this way.
The bartender brings him another tray, and I take the lime and shove it in his mouth after he takes another shot, and I let my finger linger by his mouth for a moment as I take the lime away. He licks his lips, still staring at me. “Come on, you can do better than that,” he growls and I can tell I’m blushing.
“I don’t see you busting your ass in a g-string,” I tell him with a wink, and I step closer to him. I’ve got my crotch just barely brushing against his chest, and I’m tracing my fingers around the underside of my breast. I don’t have to touch myself to tell you that I am very, very wet right now. One look in his wild eyes and he knows it too.

He pulls a handful of hair, bringing me eye level with him. He tugs so roughly, but ever the actress, I manage to bend down as gracefully as I can, as if I meant to. If anyone else did this to me I’d beat him with my 6-inch clear heels, but because it’s him, I’m lightheaded. “I’ve seen you before, smart ass,” he says with a smirk. “And you’ve done better.”
He lets go of my hair and then I drive my hands through it, sweeping my head from side to side with the music. Then I put my hands on his shoulders and stare into his face, my hair a wild mess around my head, and I press my mouth on his. My heart is pounding and I only meant to touch his lips, but he opens his mouth and forces his tongue inside. I kiss him so savagely, but we don’t touch each other. We just kiss and then I’m back to dancing for him.
“That’s more fucking like it,” he says, and he gently drags his fingers down my back. My skin crawls, and I moan softly. I’m now spreading my legs as wide as I can and rubbing myself on his shirt. With a hand pressing on my shoulder, he pushes me to his lap. For a few minutes, I drag myself across his erection. I can feel the head of his cock through his pants. His zipper scratches against my clit through my tiny panties.
I sneak a peak to my side and I see the rest of the guys sitting at a table. There is one who’s staring at us, horrified. Fascinated. It’s really turning me on to be watched like this, especially since this is different from all those other times. Dancing on top of this guy, being touched by him, I might as well be fucking. The other guy at the table, well he has the same look as the one I’m dancing for, except my guy has blazing eyes, the other’s is haunted. I notice that they glance at each other too.
“Who is that?” I ask him.
“You like him?” he snarls, and I bite my lip.
“It’s ok, you can like him,” he says, and he pushes up his hips, banging into me. I gasp, but I keep dancing. The song is almost over. “He’s my little brother.” O yes, I can see that now. They’re like night and day, those two. Each living on the other side of the mirror.
The song ends, but he holds me there with a hand on my hip. “One more, baby,” he says. So I stay, and I dance again. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” he says to me, when he catches me glancing at his brother.
“Uh, ya sure.”

We barely make it through the first verse before he stands up, almost knocking me over. “Meet me in the VIP lounge,” he says in my ear, his voice grating. I look back to see him approach his brother while I skitter on to one of the alcoves hidden away by a velvet curtain. I see the redhead cringe and pull away, and then shoot me an evil look. I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean, so I just keep going until the curtain hides me.
That guy is making me wait. The song is nearly over and I’m still waiting in that little room, my legs shaking with impatience, my heart still racing. I’m excited to be alone with this guy, but I also scared.
When he pulls the curtain back and steps in slowly, I’m just staring up at him, like some stupid little girl. Who would have guessed that I’ve been stripping for years, fending drunk guys off, busting ass for rent every month, protecting myself against any girls who decide to get crazy on me, and yet I’m staring up at this guy, so scared, so small? He pushes me to the floor with a hand on my head, and I’m on my knees, touching his legs. His hand holds me against his crotch, and I rub my face over it. I can smell him, I can feel his hard-on against my cheek.
“You’re so sweet,” he snarls down at me, and he crouches, his hand gripping my hair tight. He yanks my head back and air is forced out of my throat. His breath tickles my throat, and I can feel the moist heat from his mouth. “Too bad this is just all for a tip.”
“Fuck the tip!” I moan and shiver against his closing fingers. “I just want you.”
“Is that so,” he says, and he shoves me to the bench. I watch him eagerly as he unzips his pants. “You want this?” He pulls out his cock, and I just stare. He grabs my hair and shakes. “Well?”
“Yes!” I yelp. I feel his dick against my face, and watch him bare his teeth at me. “God, yes.”
He lets me take it into my mouth, and I make love to it. I’m imagining it inside me as I lick, and his smell is thick in my nose. Then he shoves it down my throat as hard as he can, and I’m gagging, clutching at his pants. “Come on, you whore,” he snarls. “Take it all.” I almost puke before he pulls it out, only to shove it back in several more times.
When he pulls it out he keeps it by my face and then reaches his hand down. I shift my hips towards him and let him drive his fingers into me. I rub against his finger as it grinds my clit. Panting, I throw my head back and let him pleasure me. I’ve never felt anything like this and seeing his wild look, his teeth glint, feeling his fingers on my scalp tighten and scratch, I feel so vulnerable. I think that if I tried to get away from him right now, I wouldn’t be able to.

While he rubs me, he pulls harder on my hair, tugging my head back. I grimace and let out a tiny, raspy sound, and then he lets go. He shoves me to the floor and snaps, “Take those off.” I do as quickly as I can, and then he’s on me, his knees on either side of my body. I lean back, lifting my hips. He finds a nipple between thumb and finger and twists. The louder I cry out, the harder he pulls, but I don’t ask him to stop. I kiss him when he gives me his mouth, and sigh with closed eyes as he drags his lips down my face, to my throat. Suddenly he bites, hard, and I grab onto him, my knees knocking int the sides of his body. I must be hurting him the way I grab and scratch, but he only digs those teeth in deeper until he finally lets go and slams his hand against my throat.
“I once beat a hooker with a brick,” he says with a grin, pressing down harder. He drives the fingers of his other hand into my cunt, the thumb dragging along my clit. I fling my hands to my neck, desperately trying to pry him loose. “Ah, you like that, huh?” he says. He has about three fingers deep inside me, and even as I’m struggling against his chokehold, I’m bucking into his fingers. “You just about flooded yourself when I said that.” He gets close to my face, and I stare into his gritting teeth shining beneath a dark mustache. “It’s true. I had to teach her some respect.” He lets my throat go and I suck in air with a loud gasp. I lift my chest as he slides his fingers to my breast, and I close my eyes and start crying as he yanks on my nipple. So much pain for such a simple tug. I can feel my walls closing around his fingers and I gaze into his eyes, my lips trembling.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers.
I open my legs in answer and lean my head back. When I try to grab his cock, though, he slaps my face and grabs my hand, twisting. I cry out from the jabbing pain in my wrist as he leans to grab my lips with his. He bites down on my bottom lip, as if to force me to relax. I’m certainly trying, but as he presses the head of his cock against my clit, I’m ready to explode.
He takes his mouth away and snarls in my ear, “Come on, you little hooker! Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me!” I whine.
His chuckle is a rich, dark sound. My skin crawls.
“Why don’t you ask me nicely?” His voice is soft, but dangerous. I feel his thumb hooking around the curve of my neck, and I nearly panic. The music outside this room is so loud, everyone is drunk. He could kill me and walk out of here and no one would ask him anything.
“Please,” I moan, rubbing myself on him. “God, please, fuck me!”
“Hmmm, God? I like that,” he hisses in my ear, and then he bites down on the cartilage, making me yell out. “Has a nice ring to it.” I pant and give myself to him as he slides his pants down to his knees. Shoving my shoulder down, he pushes himself inside me. I scream, he’s pushing too hard, too fast, it’s not going in.
“Come on, I thought you wanted it,” he says. “You’re so wet.”
“Please, please, not so rough…”
He answers me with two more thrusts that rip my perineum and I scream and dig my fingers into his arms. Once it’s finally in, he takes his time, slowly sliding in and out, while rubbing my clit with one finger. “Not so rough? But that’s how you like it, right?” he says. I’m bucking against him, he’s going too slow. His finger teases me, and I’m barely breathing, but I want more.
“Harder!” I whisper.
He just grins and lifts my legs above my head on his shoulders and shoves himself inside me, pounding my cervix. It’s a terrible feeling, but I’m screaming for more, even with tears flowing down my reddened face. Every time he goes in, he finds the spot, he rams on past, he slams down on my shoulders. I can feel my muscles start to cramp, and my entire body is so tense, so I relax. I let him use me. I’m in another world entirely, just me and him, and the intensity he’s giving me. With every flash of pleasure he sends up my body, he gives me even more pain. He pounds into me so hard I’m just waiting for my pelvis to crack, but I’m so close already.
He leans down to my ear, and I flinch. “I’ll see you next time I come here, won’t I?”
I can only give him a guttural groan. I tense at the feeling of his hand gently caressing my neck.
“I’m sure I will. Maybe I’ll find you in the parking lot, just after closing. Maybe right in front of your car.” He slips his hands to the undersides of my knees and fucks me even harder than before. I’m weeping by now. I can feel it so close, it’s taking over my entire body, and yet, so much pain. Every time his cock slips in, it rubs against the flesh he ripped. My arms ache from where he held me, and I can still feel the bite on my neck. “Then I’ll drive you home when I’m done with you.”

I lost it. He follows the rhythm of my body and milks it out of me, all the while pressing his chest against mine, breathing in my ear, nibbling it. It’s like my life is draining from my body, and into his arms.
“My turn,” he says, grabbing my hair. He yanks me to my knees, while I flail around, and then pushes it in my mouth. “Just keep your mouth open, that’s it.” He slides it along my tongue for a while, slowly at first. I peer up at him. His hair is mussed, but damn it looks just fine like that. The flimsy reddish light darkens his hair and paints shadows along his bones, under the brow. His eyes are closed, his face set in perfect contentment. It makes me feel pretty good to give this to him. When he looks down at me, his lips curls up slightly, and I close my mouth around his cock. he strokes my hair while I pleasure him. He starts pumping harder into my mouth, I just open my mouth and let him in. His fingers tighten on my scalp and a soft whine escapes as he comes, and some of it dribbles down the sides of my mouth.
He then stands me up and wipes my mouth hard with his sleeve before taking my lips into his own. His tongue sweeps up what’s left of his own come and we are both swallowing it. I’m light and pliant in his arms, against the wall, a breast in his hand, my hip pressing against the other hand. He holds my head for a second, that smirk I already know so well as his parting shot to me. I’m still leaning against the wall long after he leaves the room, already both dreading and longing for tomorrow night.