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I was so happy to have his cock head push through my lips again. I was frantic for it. Though he had a kind of controlled, refined manner, I knew that the suction of my lips was having an effect on him. He angled his hips toward my face a few times, and I could feel him pulsing in my mouth. The occasional passing light through the tinted coach windows illuminated my face for him.
The wantonness of what I was doing made it certain that I had to keep playing with myself. I loved the idea of coming with his cock in my mouth, and I rubbed myself, even as I felt him pushing a little too far into my throat, gagging me slightly. He must have seen the desperation on my face, because, he whispered, "Are you going to come for me with my cock in your mouth, you good little slut?"
I didn't have to answer, because I just started a muffled scream with my orgasm.
It was the third time I'd come in close proximity and I was getting dizzy. I let the vibrations of my scream dance up and down his shaft. And while my own orgasm was ripping through me, he grunted once, and I could feel him filling my mouth. I wanted to pull away, but his sperm blasting against my cheeks was making me come that much harder.
Plus, he wasn't going to let me pull away if I'd tried. He held my mouth tight on him, my nostrils flaring wildly for breath, until I had swallowed every bit. Then, and only then, did he let his grip on my hair loosen.
I had loved swallowing a stranger's cum and he knew it.
"Put on your coat," he told me.
I was confused, and dazed, but I was growing accustomed to listening to him. I liked listening to him. So I put my coat back on and sat up in the seat next to him.
"Now go into the bathroom at the back of the bus. Take off everything you're wearing except for your coat, and then come back here," he whispered.
My eyes grew wide and incredulous as I hissed, "No way!"
But then, with a deadly calm, he looked at me and said, "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Because I'm going to give you everything you want tonight...and more."
LEARNING TO LIKE IT
How had I gotten myself into this?
Hiding in the bathroom of a strip joint, wearing a dress that showed more skin than I'd ever shown in public, my pulse raced with excitement and fear.
At nineteen, I was younger than my boyfriend and his friends. They were all in their late twenties and always joking about my inexperience. Patrick was my first serious boyfriend, and even with him, it'd been strictly missionary position with the lights out. Having been raised in a strict Asian household, even that had seemed taboo to do before marriage. In truth, I had a hard time even talking about anything sexual without blushing, which delighted my friends endlessly.
They liked to tease me—and Chad only encouraged them. So when I made a smart-assed remark that I could take whatever they dished out, their jokes about my innocence became a dare. "Think you're brave enough to join us at an adult entertainment establishment?" my boyfriend had asked. "I dare you to put a dollar bill into the g-string of a stripper."
"Sure," I'd said, envisioning Chippendale dancers ripping off faux fireman coats, but my boyfriend insisted that we go see girls instead!
The day of the big event, our friend Lanie put me into a black strapless mini-dress, black stilettos, and thigh high stockings. It was like playing dress up and seemed fun at the time. It made me feel grown up and sexy. Importantly, they weren't my clothes, so, in a way, it made me feel as if I were in a costume; as if I weren't quite myself.
I was used to seeing myself in jogging pants and a halter-top, so I barely recognized the girl I saw in the bathroom mirror now. The bright red lipstick that Lanie had picked for me stood out obscenely against my dark Asian coloring. It's not too late to back out, I thought.
The strip-club bathroom had a window and I had the absurd urge to climb out and run away. Of course, that wouldn't be smart even if I could squeeze my mini-dress clad-ass out that window and manage not to break an ankle in the stilettos. We'd come to a seedy part of town.
Maybe even the seediest in town. That had been intentional. My boyfriend said there was no point in exploitation unless it was good and smutty. We were a mixed group, and that seemed to make the girls and the patrons uncomfortable when we first arrived. But after we'd put enough money down on the table, and showed the strippers our enthusiastic support, they warmed up to us.
Lanie and Chad paid one girl so many dollar bills that she ended u
p splaying herself right in front of us at the table.
That's when it happened.
She lifted her hips, pulled her panties off, and pumped her hips up at us. She'd shaved her pubic mound and put some sparkles on it too. Vagazzling, Lanie called it.
I'd barely even looked at my own private parts in a mirror before and now this girl was less than two feet away from me, showing hers off to everyone. I admit, clutching the dollar I'd been dared to put in her g-string, I stared in fascination. Maybe I stared too hard, because, quite suddenly, the girl took her legs and threw them over my shoulders.
I gasped, trying to pull away, but my boyfriend was right behind me, his rock-hard body giving me no room for retreat. While our friends cheered, the stripper spread her pussy lips apart with her fingers and I gasped again. Nestled between the stripper's sparkly pink folds was a little ring. "That's a clit hood piercing," my boyfriend whispered in my ear, low and husky. It obviously turned him on, and I worried for the thousandth time that I was too innocent for him. I wasn't pierced anywhere; I couldn't imagine doing it…there.
I'd never seen anything like it before and I couldn't decide whether her clit-hood piercing scared me or made me want one of my own. There was something about her that was so brazen, it took my breath away. She had dark brown hair, exotic green eyes, and a long, thin body. She saw me staring at her piercing, looked right into my eyes, and held my gaze.
I felt my mouth go dry.
My friends must have paid her to single me out because it seemed as if she were dancing just for me. She gyrated so near my face that I could smell her…and she smelled good. A sudden jolt of inexplicable electricity in my body confused and embarrassed me. I turned away with an immature giggle, covering my face. But when I peeked between my fingers, she was staring at me, and she let her tongue trail a low lazy lick along her bottom lip.
