Apartment Eight Makes A Golden Challenge - Sex Stories

Apartment Eight Makes A Golden Challenge

... at the club and he had barely anytime to dress. He had managed to pull on his jeans and his long duster coat, but couldn’t find his shirt. He was also still wearing the mask. They were quite the sight, like some tall, masked, homeless cowboy being led by the wrist by his sexy, mini-dress wearing, Chinese nanny in the middle of the night. “Where’s your van?” she muttered. “In alley...” Vasily replied, pointing over his shoulder in the opposite direction they were headed, “...that way.” “Oh, for the love of… ” Carie fumed as she rolled her eyes. She spun on her heels and walked back the other way, still tugging Vasily along with her. “Why would you park in an alley? Are you Batman or something?” Vasily peered at the back of her head through the narrow holes of his mask. Was she mad at him? Hold on. She … was mad... at him ? Carie was mad. She was mad at herself for coming up with the stupid idea for tonight. And, yes, she was mad at Vasily for seemingly enjoying himself so much on stage... and for looking so freaking hot. “I can’t believe you did that!” Vasily seemed to recall that someone had made him get up on that stage. “Where did you learn to strip like that?” she asked pointedly. “Wait. Don’t tell me… Youtube. right?” “No,” he said, his voice a blunt instrument. “Great. I’ve got a natural born male stripper living across the hall from me,” Carie grumbled. “What is ‘natural born’?” “It means you’ve got a real talent for shaking your bare booty ass in front of people,” ...

... she replied. “Congratulations.” “I was good?” Vasily asked. “Shaking booty?” Carie smirked as they turned down the alley. The words “shaking booty” sounded so ridiculous coming from a six-foot-three, two hundred pound oak tree like Vasily. “Several dozen horny women back at the club would concur, I’m sure.” “Do you enjoy how I strip?” Carie pursed her lips,keeping them in check as they made their way to the end of the alley. Honestly, the tingling sensation in her belly and between her thighs hadn’t stopped. They approached Vasily’s minivan when he suddenly put on the brakes. Carie lurched forward then looked back at him. “What?” she asked, exasperated. “Did you enjoy how I strip?” he repeated. Carie dropped his hand and crossed her arms. She regarded him for a second, fought against her urges and scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself.” “No?” Carie sucked in her lips. A twitchy lamp on the side of one of the buildings flickered weakly overhead casting the two of them in partial shadow. Vasily standing there with his bare chest exposed between the part in his coat, and the mask on his face, suddenly resembled a fantasy she must have had maybe a couple dozen times since she hit puberty. Cripes, her teeth started to tingle again, along with numerous other parts of her body. “Maybe like a dancing monkey at a circus.” She sneered, trying to look more convincing than she sounded. She sniffed, “You were entertaining to the common folk.” Vasily pursed his lips and looked aside, nodding. ...