Date: 27 Feb 1997 23:34:26 -0500
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The THC Adult Text Archive: JANIS01.TXT (87 lines)
…End of the part1. To be continued..
record and book store where I worked, and she smiled the perfect smile that
beautiful women do so well. Though it was late and I was a bit tired, I
immediately slipped into “helpful employee” mode (trying not to enter “helpful
employee staring at gorgeous babe” mode, at least not yet). Fumbling a smile, I
stood up from where I’d been hunting for a pen under the table, and tried to look
helpful. “What’s your name?” she asked in a bright voice. Not a question I’d
gotten before, and it threw me a bit. “Jack,” I answered after a second. “What
can I do for you?” She looked down. “Oh, nothing,” she said, flashing her eyes
back at me momentarily, before pushing back off the desk, turning to look at the
bestseller display. “What’s popular this week?” You, I’m sure, are popular with
everybody, I thought. I let my gaze wander over her slim figure. I turn into a
real pervert at work. The other guys I work with can get pretty raunchy, but I
had only recently become a real woman watcher, and this job had let me do that
quite a bit. Once I helped a girl whom I discovered wore no underwear; my
coworkers and I had fallen over each other waiting for her to bend over the racks
again. This girl, however, was a true beauty. I’m a sucker for a pretty face,
and hers had stunned me into near speechlessness: full red lips, deep green eyes
and short dark red hair. Now my gaze traveled over her figure, slim at the waist
flowing smoothly into her hips, with a high, perfect ass — “Well?” she said,
turning slightly to look at me. I almost jumped as my eyes jerked from her
cheeks to her eyes, which drew me in as she smiled and walked back to the desk.
She leaned forward. “Were you looking at me?” she asked in a low voice. I had
a great view of her breasts but I dared not look. Think, think. “Uh, yeah, I
think you had something on your back. Here, turn around.” She grinned and
…End of the part1. To be continued..
The three were good friends, as good as friends could be. Jane and
Rita had met in the sixth grade. Ben, he had always seemed to be there,
like a brother or a cousin. He lived in a house up on the hill, the two
girls lived at the foot. They could party together, talk together, or just
be together.
Jane wasn’t beautiful, but she had a way with men. Her long, light
brown hair and ready smile attracted men. She went through boyfriends like
most people went through twinkies. It was uncommon for her to show up
anywhere with the same guy twice. Every man seemed to have a crush on her,
or have had one at one time. Rita was different; she had one boyfriend for
the past year, Chas. Chas was a football player who had originally been
going out with Jane. He was tall, dark haired and dark eyed. He instantly
entranced Rita with his charm and masculinity. Jane and Ben were afraid;
they knew Chas’s reputation and were afraid that Rita might get hurt.
One weekend, Ben’s parents had left for a week to go to Hawaii. Ben
was sitting around the house, waiting for one of his friends to call him
for a party. He was careful not to let anyone know his parents were
gone–parties were fine, but he didn’t want to clean up afterwards. His
thoughts turned to his girlfriend, Tracy. She had dumped him when she
moved. Ben tried to take it philosophically, but his heart wouldn’t let
him. He wished that his emotions were more like Jane’s. The phone rang.
“Hi?” he answered.
“Ben? Are your parents gone?” It was a measure of how close Ben was
to Jane to let her know this.
“Yeah… Why? You sound upset.”
“We need to use your house.”
“We?”
“Yeah. Chas just dumped Rita.”
“Come on over.” Ben knew what this meant. Rita was so in love with
Chas that she would probably be suicidal with grief. Rita’s parents would
be unsympathetic. A typical comment form them would be “that’s what you get
for dating a jock”. Jane’s parents were probably throwing another party.
They were great at partying. Unfortunately, they were not very quiet
parties. Ben’s house was the only place were they could console Rita.
Jane met Rita at the door. Her fair skin was red from crying. When
she entered the rainy night, the tears were lost. Jane tossed a portion of
her yellow parka over Rita’s red hair. Rita just grabbed Jane around the
shoulder. They climbed the hill to the Mansion-the house were Ben lived.
The steps that ran along the driveway were narrow and difficult to
negotiate in the sunlight, much less on a rainy night. Lightning brightened
the scene for a moment, then thunder lashed the couple. They hurried until
they reached the gate.
“He dumped me for Trisha. She has bigger tits.” said Rita.
“It’ll be all right…”
Jane punched in the code and the gates opened, revealing the final
climb to the Hofsteader Mansion. It was a large, Victorian type structure
that had been added on to each successive generation of Hofsteader. Many of
…End of the part1. To be continued..
Archive-author: Derek Blonde
Archive-title: Early One Morning
AUTHOR’S DISCLAIMER:
(Unfortunately, this is NOT what the life of a computer
professional is like, at least in Research Triangle Park.
Anyone who knows of a place where systems consultants can
do this type of thing, please let me know.)
They had been working on the system for twenty-one straight
hours now. It was finally up and running; their client, a
large banking law firm, wanted the in-house system plugged into
a banking information network and a huge legal database. The
conversion had taken over four hundred thousand dollars worth
of hardware and software, in addition to three weeks of work,
and in the end Ryan thought that it would have been simpler
just to order every single piece of shit in the IBM catalog
that would fit inside the cabinet and load it onboard.
And now the computer was getting ready to entangle itself
into an international 24-hour database. The Brain would never
shut off again; now, it was going through a self-test,
getting ready to read market data, scan the newspapers, and
watch the local trouble spots in locations around the
world where the firm had clients. Its huge main monitor
was split into sixteen screens, one screen for each
communication controller operating in the building. Ryan
was trying to give each of them in turn something
approaching his immediate and undivided attention.
He was having trouble concentrating, however. His
software engineer, Kelly, was a sweet young thing just
out of MIT…young, blonde, beautiful, and brilliant.
She showed a decided preference for working in sweats,
and since the machine room was cooled to 68 Fahrenheit,
sweats were comfortable. But while she and Ryan
were hooking up the cabling on a replacement unit, and
now again as they crowded in front of the monitor to
watch The Brain do its sitting-up exercises, they had
been working in close quarters. And Ryan had found himself
meditatively studying the curves of her beautiful, firm
ass underneath her crimson sweatpants. Wondering what it
would be like to nibble on her neck, near her hairline,
with her on all fours…
With an effort, Ryan snapped out of this pleasant fantasy.
The console beeped, signalling the end of the self-test.
“Is it ready to connect now?” asked Kelly.
Oh boy, he thought, is it ever. He was so hard that he
was positively throbbing, and he knew that he would
have to find some kind of relief soon. Just go off in
a corner and jerk off two or three times.
“Well, let’s give it a try,” he said, struggling to control
his voice. He punched the key sequence, and The Brain
started activating its connections. Lights danced on
the modem consoles. Satellite linkups moved into place.
“Jesus, I think it works!” breathed Kelly. “I think it’s
really running!”
“I’ve got my fingers crossed.”
An error code flashed on one of the low screens. “Oh, shit,”
muttered Kelly. “Hand me the green manual, would you?”
Ryan looked around, hoping against hope that he would
see the green-cover book somewhere within his reach. To his
dismay, he found it: it was on a utility shelf about four
feet over.
He stood with as much dignity as he could muster, but
his stiff seven inches were standing at attention inside
his grey flannels. He retrieved the green manual, and walked
gingerly back to Kelly’s desk, willing her not to look up
at him.
To no avail. She looked up at him; her eyes widened, and
she gave a little gasp, as she saw the evidence of Ryan’s
arousal (and the source of his embarassment). Then she
quickly looked around to see if anyone else might have
come into the machine room (they hadn’t), and gripped
Ryan’s cock firmly, through his pants.
“You’ve been watching me tonight,” she said matter-of-
factly.
What could he say? “Yes.”
“And thinking dirty thoughts about me.”
“Yes.”
She smiled, unzipped his fly, and cupped his hot, swollen
balls in her cool hand. “Are you lonely, Ryan?” she asked.
Ryan was now concentrating very hard to keep from spraying
hot come all over her MIT sweatshirt. “Yes,” he half-
exhaled, half-moaned.
She rubbed the tip of his throbbing organ gently over her face,
and suddenly gave a little shudder. “Oh, God,” she said.
“This is for me. My boyfriend’s been away for MONTHS!
I need a man. I need to be fucked. I need you, Ryan. Now.”
She wriggled out of her sweatpants, exposing a gleaming,
moist patch of blond pubic hair; she stood, and kissed Ryan
deeply while fumbling with his belt. Ryan picked her up, and
sat her magnificent ass down on the table next to the system
console. He entered her still standing, and she locked her
long legs behind his back to support him as he thrusted
into her warm and welcoming wetness.
Her cunt was firm and tight and muscular, and her scent was
intoxicating. At the apex of each thrust, Kelly gripped Ryan
with her vaginal muscles and pulled him in tighter with her
legs. “Your cock was made for me, baby. Give it all to me.
Give me everything you got.”
They moved together in the simplest and most primitive rhythms.
His breaths were coming short and sharp now, and he tried
to fuck Kelly as hard as she was thrusting back. She could
feel him swelling even bigger inside of her. “Coming,” he
gasped. “Oh, God, come with me.”
Her eyes became very, very wide as she felt him swelling.
Her lips parted, and she felt like she was drifting weightlessly–
that the only two things in the universe were her tight young
pussy and his engorged cock. And they were moving together
faster and faster, and it was getting bigger, and she knew
that soon the spasm would come.
Ryan exploded inside her, in a hot, blinding
flash, like a supernova. Her muscles jerked rhythmically,
uncontrollably, over and over again as her orgasm washed over
her in blissful waves.
When they had rested a moment, and recovered their wind, they
glanced up at The Brain. Its lights danced merrily; it was
storing up and analyzing all the financial data on Southeast Asia
since the dawn of recorded history, just because it wanted to
and there was nothing else for it to do before the London
stock exchange opened.
“We should test it before we allow it to hook in this morning,”
Ryan said gently.
“The machine,” Kelly replied firmly, “can take care of itself.
You can take care of me.”
He then in turn, gave her his immediate and undivided attention.
End
–
said lunch, but that’s a GO-GO place. They serve food, too? He said
not to be late, or I’d miss the show. Oh, well. Here it is. Hmmmmmm.
Nice neighborhood. Nice place.
The sign says auditions! Oh, so that’s it. Auditions for dancers. Was
I supposed to try out? No way, Jose! My shape isn’t going to get me on
stage! I see somebody waiting outside … I approach him … correctly
guessing this is my date.
We go inside, and he whispers something to the Hostess. She looks me
over and nods. Then we follow her to a table. She takes our order for
burgers and cokes. When she comes back, she gives me a 3×5 card with
the number 6 written on it. “Number 4″ a voice announces over the
microphone.
A young girl gets up from the table next to me, and gets on stage. She
is dressed in street clothes. She is nervous. The music starts. She
is getting undressed! Oooooo. Auditions. But she is not very good. I
can do better than that. She gets down to bra and panties, and she is
shaking. Real nervous. She takes her bra off, but can’t drop her arms
to show her tits. The music stops and she grabs her clothes. My date
is the only one that applauds her. Nice of him.
“Number 5.” That’s quick! And I’m number 6? My heart starts to pound.
This time I watch the next girl real close. She is obviously a pro from
another bar. Her moves are quick and sure. My date takes my hand and
whispers. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But I want to see
you naked.” I look at him, and he has the most eager smile. How could
I turn him down? The girl finishes her act to lots of applause. She
sure did swing her pussy and ass around a lot. Is that what they want?
“Number 6.” I get on stage and look around. Small audience. As I
unbutton my blouse, I watch him. He is nodding and smiling to give me
support. Next my skirt. Oh shit. Pantyhose. Why didn’t he tell me?
I fake it by slithering around on my back. To save time, I pull my
panties off at the same time. My bare pussy is pointing right at him.
When my bra is off, I toss it to him. I know the song, and there is
lots of time left.
The cheers are pretty loud for such a small crowd. I love it. My date
has his face within reach. I kiss him, then swing around and, on hands
and knees, shove my ass in his face. He grabs my ass cheeks to hold me.
He sticks his tongue inside my pussy. Ooooooo. I flip over and bring
my knees way back. He leans over and starts licking my clit. And he
sticks a finger deep inside my pussy. The cheering is tremendous.
“Lock the Doors.” I hear someone say.
He stands up and opens his pants. His cock looks beautiful. But I
don’t get to see it for long. He climbs up with me and over me on his
hands and knees. His legs push mine apart. His lips start sucking on
my tits. Then, he kisses me thoroughly on the mouth. I feel his cock
push deep inside me. The crowd is wild. “Go! Go! GO! GO! GO!” They
are shouting, as our hips push and buck and fuck. The music is very
loud in my ears, and I start my orgasm just as the music hits its peak.
I feel his hot cum spurt inside me at the same time. The music stops.
The cheering and foot stomping is deafening.
Somebody — the manager? — comes over and squeezes my tits. And he
says, “You’re hired. How much do you want for three acts like that per
night?”
–
output its tremendous date file. “They have been very thorough”, Elizabeth
thought, as details of her childhood scrolled past. Another monitor showed
digitized photos of times and places she’d forgotten a long time ago. “Now
where did they get those?” she wondered, whispering it aloud.
She had looked very different at the time of her first serious modelling.
Her breasts were smaller then, her body tighter, her face younger. She
still remembered the thoughts running around in photographer’s head – being
a teenage mindreader can be very educational. Elizabeth had learned to accept
that as she grew older and wiser, and nowadays she never peeked really deep
into other person’s mind. There was never anything beautiful to be found,
only guilt, hate and chaos their conscious level was never aware of. She had,
of course, been taught the tricks of the trade by the undisputed master,
professor Xavier, but sometimes she wondered if she really could adjust how
deep she probed. Perhaps she saw everything other people had stuffed inside
their heads, just refusing to know it consciously.
Sensors indicated someone at the door, but she didn’t have to look at the
monitor to recognize her. Dazzler, the show-off mutant with power to transform
sound into light, entered the room carrying two cups of coffee.
“Found anything interesting?” she asked as she set the cups on a small table.
“No”, Elizabeth said and reached for the cup. She didn’t have to look at it
directly, since she saw it through Alison’s eyes. The multimedia show on the
monitor ended and another menu appeared. She sipped her coffee and swallowed
it quickly, because it was still a little bit hot.
“Have the boys returned?” she asked back.
“Not yet”, Alison said and inserted the cassette into the stereo. It was U2’s
Rattle and Hum, one of her favorites after Tina Turner. The bass line of
“Bullet” filled the air, first loud, then quieter as Alison loaded her body
with music.
“It’s OK, they can definitely take care of theirselves”, Elizabeth said and
drank again, this time ready for heat. “We survived the Inferno, defeated
Reavers, even M-Squad…” – she giggled now with Alison – “they really would
not let a bunch of common crooks give them any trouble, now would they?”
“Definitely”, Alison answered.
“How’s Rogue?”
“Still sleeping. I checked her a five minutes ago. The sedative is still
effective.”
“Do you think that she’s going to get herself together?” Elizabeth asked.
Alison took some time before answering. They both knew what Rogue had to
go through every day, probably until the end of her life. She was never
able to touch anyone, since slightest physical contact caused her to suck
the target’s mind into her body, turn to him. It was not a beautiful sight
nor a happy state of mind. She had – accidentally – taken Carol Danvers
permanently inside her, and these personas hadn’t gotten along very well
recently. All that was needed to that was to touch her a little bit too
long. She could never feel what it was like to sleep a whole night with
someone she loved, naked bodies touching each other everywhere, every time.
Her crimes had been notorious, yes, but the punishment had been out of
every proportion.
“I… really don’t know. We must hope so.”
Elizabeth streched her hands and yawned. She looked at the clock and was
surprised to realize that it was so late already. Her shoulders felt like
she was Colossus. Alison was quick to help her teammate and stepped behind
her. Elizabeth relaxed in her chair as Alison started rubbing her shoulders
and neck.
“That feels nice”, she complimented. Her hand reached for a key, but she
stumbled and hit the key next to the one she’d intended. “Hmph”, she said,
pressing the right key, but the machine was already running. Another multi-
media about her started to run.
“Browsing through your file?” Alison asked, running her fingertips over
and over her shoulders. “Isn’t it surprising how they got all that data
about us. You know, my file is full of stuff I wasn’t aware of myself.”
Elizabeth didn’t bother to stop the computer, instead she leaned back,
closed her eyes and let Alison relax her completely. She breathed peace-
fully, her mind wondering around. Suddenly Alison’s hands stopped what
they were doing, just in the middle of where they really shouldn’t have
done that. Elizabeth felt like a symphony had ended abruptly into sound
of everyday noise.
“Don’t stop”, she said quickly, with her eyes shut. Alison was stunned
for a second, they she started making a sound reminding Elizabeth of when
her girlfriends had caught her kissing a boy when she was twelve. She saw
the reason in her mind when Alison started to giggle.
Elizabeth’s eyes and mouth opened wide and she reached for the keyboard.
On the monitor there were sensuos photos of her – without a strand. She
gasped for air with disbelief – the guy had promised to destroy those
photos when she’d came over next day to tell that she’d changed her mind!
How could she have been so naive and stupid then? Alison was giggling aloud
now, almost falling down on the floor as Elizabeth pressed the buttons
frantically, trying to make the computer stop.
“Oh god”, she said when she found the right command. The picture died into
blackness.
She turned around and looked at Alison, who was trying not to laugh. Her
eyes were delivering a clear message, telling that if she ever told anyone
about these photos, she’d be dead meat. Alison pointed her forefinger play-
fully to her, showing that she’d give her the fight of her life.
“Now. How much did you see?” Elizabeth finally asked.
“Quite enough”, Alison answered. “There was this picture where you were
lying on the bed, eyes closed, legs open and hands on your pussy. And that
other one of you doing Emmanuelle-pose in that chair, except the expression
on your face was somehow more dangerous. I didn’t know you had such reserves.”
“Alison.”
“Elizabeth, come on. OK, so you were young and this guy, let me guess, gave
you a few drinks and you needed cash and did it? It’s not such a big deal,
nothing to worry about.”
“Alison.” Her voice contained now the anger that the shame had covered.
“Come on.” Alison stepped forward and quickly turned the chair around. She
placed her hands on Elizabeth’s neck before she could object. “You should
have seen the discos I performed in when I was young. Real ratholes with
minimum pay. I had to do some posing to reach bearable standards of living,
and most of it nastier than yours. Some of it a lot nastier, since I wasn’t
very beautiful then and no-one wanted to see my body unless it was humped
by some stud. So you have nothing to complain. I was just able to remove them
from my file before anyone else found them. Even all the video stuff. But
at least I had the decency not use my real name, and I don’t think that any-
one recognized me, because I only did cameos if films and usually wore a mask
when I sang onstage.”
Elizabeth sensed that Alison was telling the truth. She let herself loosen
again and sighed. “Now my good massage work is ruined”, Alison said, feeling
her muscled tensed again.
“Sorry”, Elizabeth said.
…End of the part1. To be continued..
As a guy I have always dreamed of watching two women together,
and when it finally happened, it was better than anything I could
have imagined.
Brenda was a 23 year old brunette lesbian that lived next door to
me and my girlfriend. My girlfriend, Sarah, is 21, brunette, and
has a killer slender figure. Brenda used to have at least 3 to 4
girls over to her place every week and I used to whack off at the
thought of what she might be doing with those girls. I didn’t
think that Sarah was even interested in anything bi-sexual until
she caught me masturbating with my ear against the wall that
adjoins Brenda’s apartment bedroom. I confessed everything, and
she told me that she wouldn’t mind ‘doing it’ with Brenda.
The next day when Brenda left her apartment with a laundry basket
full of clothes, Sarah and I followed her with our own basket of
dirty clothes. At the laundry-mat we started our laundry as if
everything was normal and then I took out my Nikon camera, the
one I used while on the high school year book staff, and started
taking pictures of my girlfriend. I suggested that Sarah give me
a breast shot and she gave a shy look at Brenda as if to say ‘is
it okay?’
Brenda watched as I took pictures of a partially nude Sarah and
then finally said ‘Can I join in?’ She joined Sarah and started
kissing her deeply. Sarah then started to unzip Brenda’s jeans
and I couldn’t believe my luck. Sarah completely undressed
Brenda, and Brenda took off Sarah’s pants and then proceeded to
go down on her. Sarah climaxed in no time and then she returned
the favor to Brenda. I asked to join in and Brenda told me that
she doesn’t screw men but she would like to watch me fuck
Sarah… and she did just that.
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Chicago was receding quickly in the distance, its grid of
streetlights fading to a glow of patterned city blocks against the
deep black stillness of the lake. We climbed higher, gaining altitude
on the first leg of our trip across the Atlantic, bound for England at
Christmastime, December 1992.
She sat rigid beside me, hands clenched, knuckles white
against the metal of the armrests. We’d had a drink while waiting in
the airport, and she’d just ordered another from our flight attendant
in his white and blue uniform, slightly rumpled. Cute, though.
Maybe if she got sufficiently drunk she’d relax enough to survive this
trip. I was matching her drink for drink…they were free, after all,
and we were on vacation.
“How are you doing?”
“Not too bad. You?”
“I’m fine. You know I love flying.”
“I hate you.”
She didn’t mean it, of course. Eight years of friendship
couldn’t be cancelled out by a little acrophobia. But I resolved to
be a little more careful what I said. Time was passing much too
slowly.
Three hours later; almost halfway to England. I, for one, was
thoroughly bored and that rumpled flight attendant with the shock of
Midwestern brown hair and mindless calf eyes was starting to look more
and more inviting. In an effort to distract her, we’d been
complaining about our respective ex-boyfriends and talking about the
joys of sex through the last two or three drinks, and both of us were
now horny as hell. That one of us was bi, and the other one straight
only added to our frustration. We’d gotten to that sad point when we
boasted about all the strange places we’d done it, and all the odd
people we’d done it with.
“Want to join the mile-high-club?”
“With whom? The pimply flight attendant?”
“Yeah, right.”
Surrounding us were hordes of British families, little kids
curled into each other, the seats, their parents. All heading home
for the holidays. Not a single lonely man in sight.
“Hey, babe, I got an idea.”
“Uh huh. I remember your last idea. Almost got us thrown in jail.
And those two guys weren’t worth it.”
“This is much, much better. Just think of those poor lonely pilots in
the cabin. They must be so bored, flying this plane on automatic
across miles and miles of empty ocean. I bet they’re just sitting
back and dreaming of a pair of nubile, 21-yr-old college students
fulfilling their every desire.”
“And you want to fulfill their fantasies, right?”
“Well, maybe not all of their fantasies. They probably ought to keep
their hands on the equipment. But we could provide a
little…entertainment? I dare you to.”
“You what?”
“I dare you to.”
“We’re not kids anymore.”
“Exactly.”
We thought about it for a while. As we worked out the
strictly hypothetical details, it became more and more tempting. The
perfect way to relieve boredom, maybe relieve a little frustration,
and forget about the two idiots we’d left in Chicago. After all, we
were single again now. No ties, no responsibilities. And it would be
a hell of a lot of fun.
“You first.”
“No, you.”
“Together, then?”
“Here goes nothing.”
***
Hell of a flight. The typical crying kids for the first two
hours, then, just when they had all fallen asleep, a drunk guy in
first class started complaining about how he couldn’t sleep and the
drinks were weak and the service was lousy. It had taken two
blankets, three pillows and my own copy of Playboy to shut him up.
Why do people think that the life of a flight attendant is all fun and
games? Jetting to Hawaii isn’t nearly as exciting when you have
to turn around and head to Kansas City half an hour later.
The only bright spot was the pair of babes in aisle thirty. I
could’ve sworn the dark-haired one, who looked Hispanic, winked at me the
last time I went by. Hey, they’re buzzing me.
“Don’t worry, Rina, I’ll get it.”
“Thanks, Mike, I’m crashing.”
“Don’t say that too loud.”
“Very funny.”
Hah. I crack me up. Well, let’s see what they want.
Probably just a pillow.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hello, ma’am, what can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s kind of complicated. See, my friend here, she’s always
wanted to be a pilot, and she’d really love to get a look at the
cockpit. It’s so quiet now, we thought it might be a good time.”
“Ummm…well, I’m not sure if the captain would approve of that,
ma’am”.
“But you could ask, couldn’t you?”
“Sure thing. Just hold on a minute.”
Well, Tony didn’t seem to mind too much, since it was so quiet
and such a slow flight. So I brought them forward. Then things got
really weird.
“What’s your name, captain?”
“I’m Tony, miss, and my co-pilot here is Christopher, and that’s Mike,
your flight attendant, over by the door.”
“Must be pretty boring for you up here…”
“Well, we have to check the instruments fairly often – every twenty
minutes or so.”
The blond looked over at the Hispanic girl, and asked, “Do you
think twenty minutes is enough?” She replied, “Should be plenty.
Check your instruments, please, gentlemen.” and coolly, calmly,
started unbuttoning her shirt.
“Now, gentlemen, we’d like you to settle a little bet for us, if you
don’t mind. My friend and I were debating which of us could do the
best strip-tease. We’d like to demonstrate for you, and ask you to
judge, if that’s okay with you?”
None of us were about to object, that was for sure. The blond
came over to me, and pushed me over a bit so I was leaning against the
door. Then she leaned against a wall and watched the show.
The Hispanic girl had long wavy black hair, almost to her
waist, swinging loose behind her back. She had been wearing a sort of
lacy black sweater, but she’d just finisehd unbuttoning it and was
slipping it off, one smooth brown shoulder at a time. Underneath was
a cropped white tank and a long, loose black skirt.
“What’s next, guys, shirt or skirt?”
…End of the part1. To be continued..
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