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‘Come on Gayle’ I heard the chorus of giggles as I locked my car.
I sighed as I walked across the parking lot to the small group of waiting women; how had I gotten myself talked into this. A forty year old professional woman who prided herself on logic and hard work, I was herded through the door by this gaggle of giggles and into a world I knew about, but had never chosen to participate in.
The first thing that hit me was the noise of the music, followed by the laughter and hoots of females. We each paid our fifty dollar cover charge; everyone but me that was; after all this was ostensibly for me and my fortieth birthday; or so my co-workers had convinced me.
It was a Friday, and the girls at the office had cornered me about my birthday; and the fact they all claimed I never cut loose or had fun. It wasn’t that I didn’t cut loose; I just didn’t need booze and a night out to do it. Their constant harping had resulted in me agreeing to visit the bar after work with them; of course they never told me that their choice of ‘bar’ was called Dick’s.
The name fit, it was nothing but a house of dicks, yes the male kind and yes the nude kind. Dick’s was apparently a high end male strip club in town that I had never even known about. Oh I knew such places were around, but they were never much on my radar.
An establishment for middle aged women to live their fantasies mostly. Let’s be real most men who lather their attention on a forty year old woman are not nineteen or twenty, and most men in the real world aren’t beef cake cut with eight or nine inch dicks. Places like this made a point of having high ‘standards’ where every dancer was young, bulging biceps and six pack abs. They usually sported the swinging dicks that belonged in magazines or in porn movies. Come on, I’m divorced, I am not blind or stupid; ninety percent of the male population were either skinny teenagers of out of shape middle aged men; and on a good night a six or seven inch cock was the usual.
But, places like Dick’s catered to the fantasy, and so here I was weaving through tables hearing banging music, while women stood at the small circle stages hooting and stuffing dollar bills into the g-strings of hunky hung males.
As we settled into our seats, it quickly became apparent that some of the girls had been here before, the quickly pulled piles of dollar bills from their purses and stacked them in neat little piles in front of them.
I sighed and sipped my drink, I was damned if I was going to waste good money on this fiasco. Hell, I had a nineteen year old son, and paying for his college was not cheap; there were better places to waste my money. My wishful thinking was not to be as a sudden small stack of about twenty or thirty ones appeared in front of me.
“On the house” Maxine; the leader of the group cackled over the noise.
I sat for the next half hour or so and watched as half the women in the room made asses out of themselves. But it seemed par for the course; they were either drunk, horny or both as a parade of male flesh circled from one small stage to the next.
The runway extended out from one wall and was lined with small out croppings equipped with a pole; three up one side and three down the other; the end was a large open area that also had a pole, but afforded the dancer to move around closer to the audience.
Women were seated at small tables around the room, and the girls had managed to get us a table between one small pole area and the end of the main runway.
I watched as Maxine, and then Shelly stuffed dollars into bulging loin cloths. God the way Leah shoved her hand inside you knew the fifty year old housewife and receptionist had to be getting a heft handful.
After the first round, the men all headed off stage, and the girls promptly refilled their glasses; it was a good thing I had told my son I would be late tonight; I don’t think the girls would let me out of here before midnight. Tonight had actually worked out better than I had thought, Peter my son had said he would be working the late shift when I had called to tell him.
I didn’t say where the girls were taking me, only that we were going out for drinks, peter had been insistent I go, it was my birthday; and frankly that had been what had tipped the scale. The idea of sitting at home alone with a glass of wine on my fortieth birthday just roiled at me.
Normally I didn’t mind being a single parent, and Peter was a great kid. He studied hard his second year of college, made good grades, and had picked up a part-time job. I had felt guilty at first, but when he fixed his own car and actually helped with some bills; I had to admit his being responsible had been a sense of pride; and being a single parent I couldn’t exactly refuse the help.
They had started what they called the Main Event; apparently each guy took fifteen minutes on the main stage near us, and then moved off to a smaller pole area. It gave the audience a chance to focus on bostancı escort them one at a time, and let’s be real a time for them to earn the much needed tips.
I almost laughed at the comedy of it. Eddie the Butcher; who came out dressed in an apron. Then there was Mike the Plumber and his ‘magic tool’; although I do admit nine inches of waving cock IS quite the tool. Christ I thought Maxine was going to cum in her jeans when she stuffed bills into his string.
The girls were sizing them up like slabs of meat; trying to decide which ones they wanted to have come to the table for me. God that was all I needed; some chiseled male swinging his dick in front of my face; yep I got wet.
It was about halfway through the stable, and every reader here knows what happened. They called him ‘Pete’s Dragon’; I watched him strut to the front stage; my vagina drying up and my tongue locked in my mouth.
In all the noise, dim lights, and confusion I knew he couldn’t see me. He didn’t know any of the women from my work, so I wasn’t worried about them knowing him; so I slid down slightly in my seat and just watched; as my son strutted down that runway.
As a mother I was shocked; this was his part-time job he never talked about. Who was I to complain, I never talked about my work either. Between his busy school schedule, my work and his work; let’s be frank we didn’t get as much mom and son time like when he was ten.
As Pete flowed around the stage, slowly twirling and dancing to the music, I just stared. I had to admit he did look good up there. He was six feet of pure muscle, bronzed skin; biceps that any woman would die to have hold them. And judging by the bulge in the cloth pouch he wore, he was definitely packing.
I watched some brunette from a neighboring table grab that bulge as she slid her dollar into his string. Then up went first Nancy and then the insane Maxine. It was strange watching these women treating my son like some Adonis; and yet at the same time there was a twinge of jealousy that this one was MINE.
Maxine whispered something, and I watched peter give a laugh. As Maxine headed back to the table, Peter’s clear voice came over the crowd.
“So we have a birthday girl here tonight” and the crowd hooted. “How about a special tip and we’ll see if we can set this little ole dragon free” oh my God the screaming started.
The next thing I knew a twenty dollar bill had been thrust into my hand, and the unthinkable was happening; I was being propelled to the edge of the stage. I knew when I stepped up there, there would be no hiding; we would both know.
I looked back at the table, and saw the hungry looks on the faces of these women. You want to see my son’s cock, I thought; all right then let momma show it to you, I growled to myself.
I stood tall at the edge of the stage and waited; when Peter turned his steps faltered. I give him credit, looking down and seeing your mother watching you strip had to be a shock; but he kept his poise. He kept swaying as he stared down at me wide eyed.
“Happy Birthday” he crooned in an off key voice.
I took the twenty, and licked one side of it while he watched me in shock, then I reached up and slapped the moist bill to his sweat and oil slick chest. When I pulled my hand back, it clung to one flexing pectoral.
“Take it all off” I said as calmly as I could.
Peter stared down at me, his eyes growing even wider as he realized I had called the bluff. I had paid him, he was now cornered. Not only that, I had said it in a voice loud enough for the girls at the table to hear; who immediately erupted into hoots and cat calls for him to strip it off.
I just stood there and waited, the ball was in his court. As I watched that small piece of cloth slip away, I had the strangest sensation. My nipples hardened in my bra, and a rush of warmth filled the thin panties I was wearing.
“Jesus” I whispered as he pulled the cloth away.
There, swinging in the breeze in front of me; had to be at least six inches of flaccid cock. The unmotherly thought of how big the damned thing hard was, coursed through my mind. Behind me I could hear the girls yelling for him to make it hard and I knew I needed to move before that happened.
Marching back to the table, I slumped in my seat. “You want it hard, go for it” I mumbled.
That seemed to trigger them even worse. They huddled, and then called over a waiter for a hushed conference; money exchanged hands and the girls settled into enjoying the rest of the show. By the time it had ended I had gotten control of the dripping in my panties, but my nipples were still pushing out against my bra and blouse like two hard pebbles.
I heard the music changing and figured the Main Event was over, sighing that I had made it through the worst. My min d was whirling with how Peter and I were going to discuss this; and so I wasn’t really paying attention; that was my demise. The next thing I knew the ümraniye escort bayan girls at the table had shifted their chairs, I was now sitting half alone; and there was Peter in front of me.
“Hi birthday girl” peter’s baritone voice called me. “Your friends have arranged a private show” he tried to smile.
I could tell he was as nervous as I was. They had no way to know this was my son; I wasn’t about to tell them; and Peter sure wasn’t going to admit his mother had just asked him to take his thong off. In a way we were both stuck, I sighed softly and just nodded. I could see the worry in his eyes ease a bit as he positioned himself in front of me.
Just so everyone knows, there is a difference between a male and a female lap dance; a HUGE difference. A guy can’t sit in your lap and grind away, not much to grind on; and shoving his tits in your face is out of the question. While rubbing on you can work, frottage (as they call it) is usually frowned on. That means a male will dance mostly for visual. In a way it’s an art I found out. It’s all in the twists, flexing, gyrations; how he makes his body move.
Two things made the night memorable; the first is that I am very visual. While a male physical appearance is not an end all; I do appreciate visual art; ice skating, dance, things like that. The second was that peter was actually rather good; no skip that he was damned good.
He turned, he bent, and he gyrated. I watched pectorals shift and biceps flex. I smelled his male odor; I could have leaned forward and licked the sweat from his abs. He did this fantastic move where he dropped to the floor, bent in an arc; and when he rose; his bare body slid up between my spread thighs only inches from my groin and breasts. God I almost soiled my panties when he did that.
He brought my trembling hands up to his muscular chest, my fingers caressing down his damn near perfect body; my nipples threatening to burst from my bra. When they rested on his hips, feeling the knots of his G-string I didn’t even have to think; I pulled both knots free.
The cloth fell away, and so did the hooting around the table; my eyes focused and my ears shut down as that ‘dragon’ swung inches away from me. The hell of it was, on the stage he had been flaccid; he wasn’t now. God he was half hard as that thing reared in front of me.
I watched a slender hand with pink nail polish reach over my shoulder and wrap around that stalk. I heard Peter give a soft grunt as that hand began to stroke him. God, he thickened even more. The head became angry and purple; his balls hung heavy; and that thing kept getting harder and harder and harder.
When that hand finally released him, it didn’t swing anywhere. It rose tall and solid from his mat of pubic hair; and fuck it looked good. I felt my mouth fill with saliva; and I knew I was only inches away from the most illegal act there was. Suprisingly, it was Peter who saved me.
“Sorry ladies, the private show is over; unless you want the gold treatment” peter said.
Gold treatment, what the hell was that; I looked up into peters eyes in confusion. I could see uncertainty in his eyes; what was he worried about? Dear God no, the gold treatment, did that mean what I thought it meant. But, apparently that meant a sizeable investment; one the girls weren’t ready to make birthday or not.
Peter slowly drifted away and the night returned to racous laughter, booxe and women shoving dollar bills. By the time I headed out the door and to my car; I had managed to avoid peter the remainder of the night.
On the drive home, I pulled into a convenience store and picked up a bottle of red wine. At home I stood in the kitchen and thought about the night. How I had reacted to my son’s body; and how he had reacted to mine. It had been months since I had felt the intimacy of a man; and while masturbation helps relieve a lot of the stress; it doesn’t substitute for the real thing.
I couldn’t believe I was thinking of my son that way, or worse wondering what he had been thinking of me. I would like to blame my actions on the booze from the club and the two glasses of wine at home; but I know better. It was my body and not my brain that moved that night.
I cleared out the middle of the living room, and then set a single chair from the dining room and a small TV tray next to it. I sat in the chair with my wine bottle and glass and waited.
About two I think, the door opened and in walked Peter. He stared into the dim lighting of the living room, his voice filled with surprise. “Mom, what are you doing” he asked.
“I want you to change” I said before I changed my own mind. “Put on your…work clothes” I told him.
Peter stood in the dim light and looked at me. I knew so much was going through his mind right then, but God help me he did the right thing. He stepped into the kitchen, and when he appeared back once again he was wearing that small pouch.
Reaching behind me, I pressed kartal escort the play on my Ipod; music like what I had heard at the club filled the living room. I picked up a dollar bill from the small stand and waved it in the air. Peter slowly advanced on me, until he stood right in front of me. With trembling hands, I committed myself as I slid that bill into his string.
I sat mesmerized as once again Peter twirled and gyrated to the music filling the room. This time there were no prying eyes; and I stared unashamed at that body before me. My nipples instantly returned to their rock hard state from before, and my panties clung to my now moist lips.
“God you’re perfect” I whispered.
Peter was silent as he twisted and turned; letting me see every muscle and sinew on his body. As the second song began to wind down he looked down at me sitting there.
“The routine is usually two songs” he said softly.
I nodded and reached over to the small table. Picking up the twenty I had laid there, I slowly licked the bill again, and with a shaking hand; pressed it to his powerful chest.
“Take it all off” I whispered for a second time that night.
Once again that small piece of cloth slid away, and there it was. Hanging mostly limp that thick tube of flesh. God he was hung. Oh he wasn’t ten or twelve inches; but Jesus he was a long way from the usual six; I figured he had to be at least nine or so inches.
This time there was no pink nailed hand; but it was my manicured nails and slender fingers that wrapped around that cock. I felt it throb with blood; and as my hand slowly glided up and down the length, I felt it thicken and stiffen in my grip.
Until the point the only sound was the music; with soft heavy breathing from both of us in the background. That same urge, the same desire filled my body as it had in the club. Pulling him forward by that thick stalk; I leaned in and slip my lips over that fat head.
“Oh shit” I heard Peter grunt above me.
God he filled my mouth, stretching my jaw open, I took a breath through my nose, inhaling his scent in the process; I felt a sudden swamp fill my panties as I breathed him in.
My head began to slowly bod up and down as I took him deeper, tasting him; reveling in the pre cum that coated my tongue. I felt his hands reach down and grip my hair, guiding me as his hips hunched; fucking into my mouth.
I had crossed the line, I had committed to unforgiveable act; I was sucking my son’s cock; and God I was in love. I could hear him moaning above me as one hand cupped his heavy balls, the other stroking along the spit covered shaft I couldn’t even fit into my mouth.
The music had stopped, and I heard Peter panting above me. “Gold Treatment” he husked.
Pulling my mouth free with an obscene plop; I looked up at him. I was about to drink his cum; but there was so much more waiting. I reached over to the small stand beside my wine glass, and picked up the money I had taken from the ATM at the store; I held the money out to him.
“I want Gold…silver…bronze…all of it” I told him.
Peter stared at me; I could see his cock throb and pulse, a small clear drop oozing from the tip. He wanted me…ME; a forty year old worn out mother.
“Are you sure mom” he asked softly.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life” I said in a hoarse voice.
“Put your money away…lady” Peter smiled. “You aren’t the only one with fantasies.”
Before I could respond, he began to dance around my chair, that hard cock bobbing and weaving. I watched his chest, his thighs, that cock and his face as he moved. I hate to admit it, but he really was a master; he did this slow twirl and thrust that would draw your eyes to that thick cock, missing the fact that his hands had undone a button on your blouse.
It was only moments and I sat there with my bra encased breasts heaving in full view, God he was driving me insane. I sat in fascination as he did that squat and the arc, and then rising between my thighs. Only this time his tight body literally slid up my crotch. There was no management here to say otherwise; and when his body rubbed along mine I shuddered; and yes I totally missed he had reached around me and unsnapped my bra.
“Peter” I gasped as his pectorals brushed across my bare nipples; my blouse and bra lying on the living room floor, and I had no idea how he got them off me.
“Oh God” I whispered as he bent in, drawing his hot tongue from my navel up and between my aching breasts as his body slid up along mine.
The act caused me to throw my head back, moaning; arching my back as my ass rose from the chair to follow his tongue. God my panties were suddenly around my knees and I couldn’t get my legs wide enough to fit him, reaching down in a haze I jerked the offending cloth free, spreading my thighs as he slid between them again.
By now the only items of clothing left on my quivering body were my skirt and nylons I had worn to the office that morning; everything else was scattered on the floor. The next time his body slid up against mine, I reached out and wrapped my hand around that pulsing log. I drew his hips in as he rose to his feet, my mouth opening as I drove my face down on him.
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