The Ballad of John and Al Ch. 02 - Sex Stories

The Ballad of John and Al Ch. 02

... cheeks were visible, not-so-little silver moons of delectable flesh.

"Holy shit," he said. "Yeah, I can see why they objected."

"I know, right? I mean, the only underwear you can wear with these is a thong."

He shook his head. "Or a G-string. You're not going to actually wear that, are you?"

"Maybe," she teased. "Once I get some favorite customers."

"I don't know, Al. You might as well have got a job at a strip club."

"I thought about it."

He stifled a little cough. He was definitely hard inside his slacks now.

"So, flyboy," she asked. "You ever date a stripper?"

"Not 'dated,'" he countered, trying to regain the upper hand. She reached out and punched his arm.

"Bad boy."

He grinned. "Maybe I could start. Right now."

"Ah huh," she smirked. "All right. You asked for it."

She went over to her dresser and fished around in the top drawer, then turned around. She had a bright red pipe cleaner, like from a craft set. She wrapped it around his wrist and gave it a twist to secure it.

"So, it's ten dollars for the wrist band to go into the back rooms," she said. "And then it's thirty dollars a dance."

He grinned. He liked where this game was going. He pulled out his wallet and handed her two twenty-dollar bills.

"One dance?" she scoffed. "Big spender."

He coughed a bit and fished out three more twenties.

"That's more like it," she commented, saucily.

She took his hand in hers and led him into the dining room. Where there were ...

... straight-back chairs without arms. She backed him up against one and gave him a little push against his chest to get him to sit. He watched as she sauntered over to her purse on the counter, pulled out her phone, and scrolled through her apps before starting some music. He didn't recognize it ... something hip hop, with a prominent bass beat.

She slinked up to him, running her hands through her hair, planted her feet shoulder-width apart, and began to sway her hips to the music. He put his hands behind his head, interlacing his fingers, and sat back to enjoy the show.

At the first chorus, she turned around, bending slightly at the waist, and gyrated in front of him. John made a rumbling sound deep in his throat and reached out to caress her rear end. She reached back and grabbed his wrists.

"No hands," she ordered.

"No hands?"

"Huh uh," she said. "It's a club rule."

"Huh," he responded, compliantly sitting on his hands. "How do you know so much about how strip clubs work?"

"How do you know I know what I'm talking about?" she countered.

John bit his tongue. Yeah, he had been to plenty of strip clubs. Admitting it just fed into her desire to catch up with him in terms of sexual experiences. And body count.

She moved her grip to his forearms, just below his elbows, and supported herself as she lowered her perfect ass in its obscene orange garment down until she was just brushing his lap. She moved in a circle, and he could feel himself straining inside ...