Lap Dance

Brett and Valerie had talked about a great many things during night-long IM sessions on-line, and a few long phone calls. They'd met in person, briefly, once -- she an actress in a play he'd attended. Her performance had so moved him he felt compelled to praise her after the show.

He knew she had a boyfriend, but that same night, Brett sent her a friend request on FaceSpace, and she accepted. Their virtual relationship began on the topic of sex toys -- Fleshlights and sex dolls to be precise -- and blossomed from there.

She was remarkably open-minded, and they spoke for hours on-line -- and traded e-mails -- soon telling each other their darkest secrets and desires. She told him about her "back massager," her difficulty in reaching orgasm while with another person, her bi-curiosity, and her preference for anal sex. She claimed that, being Filipino, genetics had cursed her with a small, very tight, vagina, and she found it more comfortable to take a man anally.

Brett opined that her 5'1" stature and petite build -- while still attributable to genetics -- also contributed to her difficulty accepting a man vaginally -- he had, of course, offered to help her work on this.

Val also told him she loved to dance, and directed him to on-line videos of routines she had choreographed herself. One, especially, commanded his attention -- a poorly lit scene featuring Val wearing only a black top and boyshorts. Though in most of the video he could see nothing more than her legs and hands, it fired his imagination.

For months, Brett hounded her to dance for him -- just for him. Of course, she didn't really consider what he desired exactly dancing. She'd deflected each of his requests, saying they could do no more than speak on the phone and on-line, and trade the occasional picture. She would not even consent to meeting for dinner, or a drink.

He -- realizing that at 44-years old, he was twice her age -- tried to remain patient; not forcing the issue, and being content with what he could get. Fate, however, finally gave Brett an opportunity to change this.

One evening, on her way home from school, Valerie had been involved in a motor vehicle accident. She was unhurt, but her car had to be towed away, and needed repairs before it could be driven again. Late that night, as she and Brett talked, Valerie lamented the loss of her car. She revealed that she'd just paid the tuition for her last semester of school, and now lacked money to pay for repairs. Until her next paycheck, she confessed, she had less than $100 in the bank.

"I could loan you the money," he offered, on the phone.

"What do I have to do for it?" she asked.

"Did I say there were conditions?" he returned.

"No," she allowed. "But, I can't just take your money."

"It's a loan, interest free," he said. "Pay me back when you can."

"I can't accept it," she insisted.

"Look, I have it, you need it," he said. "It's OK."

"I feel guilty," she said.

"Why?" he asked.

"I didn't earn it," she said.

He didn't respond for several moments.

"You could," he said, finally.

"I could?" she asked, cautiously. "How?"

"You know what I want, Val," he said.

"I'm not going to fuck you," she said.

She could almost hear disappointment in his silence.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You know I have a boyfriend."

"What about the phone sex?" he asked. "And the pictures?"

"I..." she began. "That's different."

"How?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's not physical."

"What if we got a little physical?" he asked.

"A little physical?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"We have discussed a lap dance," he said.

She let out a long sigh.

"Hey, you said you wanted to earn it," he said.

"That's not exactly what I said," she retorted.

"It could be in return for not charging interest on the loan," he suggested.

He waited, sensing she was considering it.

"What would I have to do?" she asked.

"You know what a lap dance is," he said.

"Of course," she said. "But, is that it?"

"Well, I want something a little more specific," he said.

"I'm listening," she said.

He explained his requirements. Again, she thought.

"OK," she said, quietly. "I'll do it."

"The outfit isn't a problem?" he asked.

"No, I have all that stuff," she assured him.

"Good," he said.

"When do you want to do it?" she asked.

"Right now," he said, laughing.

"Surprise, surprise," she said, joining in.

"How 'bout tomorrow night, at my place?" he suggested.

"I have to work until nine," she told him. "But, I can come over after I run home and take a shower."

"You can shower at my place, if you want," he offered. "I won't peek."

"I bet," she said, mocking.

"I won't peek...much," he said.

"It will be safer for me to shower at my house," she said, with a laugh. "I'll text you right before I leave."

The next day dragged on and on. Brett had a difficult time focusing on work as his mind continually turned to Valerie. When 5:00pm finally arrived, he drove home, did some light cleaning, then ate dinner. He watched Jeopardy! -- part of his nightly routine -- but his lust-addled brain couldn't come up with a single correct answer.

As 9:00pm approached, he could barely contain his excitement. He showered, dressed -- pulling on a t-shirt, socks, boxer-briefs, and sweat pants -- then returned to the TV, and tried to avoid looking at the clock as he awaited Val's arrival. Her text reached his cell phone at 9:53.

"Leaving my house now."

The message included a picture of her ass, covered in the black cotton boy shorts he'd asked her to wear. His cock began to stiffen. While he waited, he re-checked his preparations. 10 minutes later, he saw her headlights as she pulled in his driveway. Opening the back door, he watched her slip from the car and walk toward him.

"I thought your car was in the shop," he said, when she reached him.

"It is," she said. "That's my roommate's."

At 6'3", he towered over her, and leaned to kiss her cheek.

"I'm glad you came," he said.

Brett led her into the kitchen and turned to admire her. Her brown eyes sparkled as he took in her brunette pixie cut hair, and dark olive skin. She wore a black leather jacket, an over-sized gray sweatshirt bearing the name of her college, baggy blue jeans, and combat boots -- untied. She carried a gym bag.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, motioning her to take a seat.

"Do you have any Malbec?" she asked.

"I do," he said. "I remembered you saying you like it, so I picked up a bottle."

As she sipped her wine, he sat across the table from her, drinking a Coke. They relaxed, getting to know each other in person. During a lull in the conversation, Brett handed her an envelope. Taking it, Valerie smiled. Then her expression changed.

"Would it be rude to open it right now?" she asked.

"Well, it can't be any more awkward than what I'm asking in return," he said, soberly.

"I'm not offended, Brett," she said.

"I'd understand if you were," he assured her. "I feel like a dirty old man for suggesting it."

"I'm not doing this for the money," she said.

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"I need the money, don't get me wrong," she said. "But, the more I've thought about this, the more turned on I got."

"You did?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

She nodded, as she avoided meeting his eyes.

"Go ahead, Val," he said, pointing at the envelope.

He hadn't sealed it. Slipping her fingers in the top, she looked at the check, made out to her, in the amount she needed. Shaking her head, she let out a low whistle.

"Thank you," she said. "I will pay you back."

"I know," he said.

Valerie drained the last of her wine.

"Where would you like me to dance for you?" she asked.

"I have everything set up in the bedroom," he said.

Brett held out his hand and she took it. Feeling the warmth of her skin made him a bit dizzy. Walking slowly, he guided her up the stairs. Entering the master bedroom, he flipped on the lights, and she looked around for several moments.

"Can I change in the bathroom?" she asked.

"Of course," he said, motioning to a doorway in the far wall. "I'll set up some appropriate lighting."

"I brought music," she told him.

"OK," he said.

"It's stuff I like, and that I've danced to before," she said.

"That's fine with me," he said.

Opening her bag, she removed an iPod, and a docking station with two speakers. She placed the items on his dresser, then made her way to the bathroom. Before dousing the lights, Brett lit several candles. The flickering provided a spectral atmosphere to the room. His laptop computer rested on a bookshelf. He adjusted the angle of the built-in camera, and clicked "record" on the movie maker program.

During his earlier preparations, he'd placed a high-backed, wooden chair at the foot of his bed. Before he sat down, he pulled off his sweatpants and socks, tossing them to the floor beside his bed. Several minutes passed, then Valerie returned still wearing her sweatshirt, but without pants. Her legs were now covered by rainbow leg warmers which stretched from her ankles to high up on her thighs.

She sauntered to the dresser, placed a small bottle on top, then raised both hands to her head, and raked her fingers through her hair. Doing so lifted the sweatshirt, and Brett could see her perfect ass -- barely concealed by the skin-tight, black cotton boyshorts -- peeking out. Turning her head, she caught him admiring her butt, and let out a giggle.

"You look like you're ready," she said, looking at him in his t-shirt and boxer-briefs.

Brett nodded. She tapped a button on her iPod, and music flowed from the speakers. He recognized the song as the same one playing in his favorite of her on-line videos.

Valerie remained at the dresser, facing away from Brett. Her hips began swaying left and right, like the pendulum of a clock, moving with the beat of the music. He watched as Valerie's hands slipped to her ass. Sliding them upward, she lifted her sweatshirt, again exposing her panties. Bending her knees, she squatted. His eyes followed every move. Standing up straight, she spun, her body undulating as her hands drifted to her chest.

Her dancing brought Valerie close to him, and he could hear her singing along with the song. Standing in front of him, she smiled, and reached out to caress the side of his face for a moment. Her fingers fell away as she whirled, leaving him staring at her butt. Slowly, she backed up until her legs touched his. They both felt an electricity pass between them.

"Oh, my God," Val whispered.

Before Brett could respond, she sat down in his lap, her ass resting on his stiffening cock. He wrapped his arms around her -- wanting to hold her -- but she pushed away his hands. Turning her head, she shook a finger in the air.

"No, no, no," she purred.

Grinding her hips a few times, she pushed against his lap, then stood and moved away again. As the music began to pulsate, Val twisted and knelt. She walked her hands up the inside of her thighs. A moment later -- the look on her face told Brett -- her fingers trailed across her clit.

She slid her knees in and out -- raising and lowering her body as if she were riding him. He licked his lips as he watched her. Placing her hands on the floor, she slowly crawled toward Brett. Reaching him, she put her hands on his legs.

As they gazed into each other's eyes, her hands glided upward until they found his cock. He groaned when her fingers touched his hardness. Her eyes went wide as she squeezed the thickness for a few moments. His mouth fell open, and she stood to flit away once more.

"No fair; teasing like that," he croaked.

"I'm sorry," she sang out, in a tone that let him know she wasn't.

"No, you're not," he retorted.

She laughed at him, twirled a few times, and grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt. In one swift motion, she pulled the garment up over her head, and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore a black, spandex sports bra. In the dim light, he could see the hard nipples of her A-cup breasts poking against the material.

He wiggled in the chair, adjusting himself as his eyes traveled over her body. She inched closer, letting her fingers drift along the curves of her sides; down to her waist; her hips, and then around to her inner thighs. Puckering her lips, she blew him a kiss as her fingers once more brushed her clit. As she danced, Brett noticed her eyes drop to the erection barely contained by his underwear.

"Do you need to sit down?" he asked, patting his lap. "You can rest here."

She didn't reply, instead pirouetting away. Her hands leapt to the bottom of her bra, she hooked her fingers under the spandex, then pulled it upward languidly, holding it above her head for a few moments. She peeked back at him over her right shoulder. Bringing the bra down to cover her breasts, she turned around to face him for a moment, then spun away once more.

Glancing over her shoulder, she winked at him, then tossed the bra backward. He caught it, and as she turned to face him -- arms crossed in front of her chest -- he brought it to his nose and breathed in the scent of her. She smiled and whirled away yet again. Crossing the floor, she placed her hands on the dresser, and bent over, sticking out her ass, and rocking it from side to side.

"Does it taste as good as it looks?" he asked.

"Maybe you'll find out," she said, straightening her body, "if you're a good boy."

Grabbing the bottle of baby oil she'd put on his dresser, she flipped open the top, held it slightly above eye level, and poured some of the contents onto her chest. Brett watched her free hand move up and down her torso -- rubbing it into her skin. He rocked his hips and pushed his boxer-briefs down to his ankles. Still holding the bottle of oil, Val rotated, covering her breasts with her arms. She could see his erect cock waiting for her.

"You're a bad boy," she said.

He didn't answer, only kicked away the underwear, then pulled off his t-shirt, and dropped it to the floor beside Val's bra. She lowered her arms and walked toward him.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" she asked, pointing at his cock.

This time he didn't hesitate to answer.

"Come here and rub your pretty, little ass against it," he said.

"Mmmm," she said, as she neared him. "I didn't know it was so big."

"I sent you a couple pictures," he reminded her.

"I know, but..." she began, "they didn't do it justice."

She stood between his legs, watching his eyes trace over her breasts. Brett leaned toward her and stuck out his tongue to lick her left nipple, but she twisted away. He continued, however, and kissed her back, while his hands caressed her legs. As his hands reached her hips, she began pouring oil over her shoulders. It ran down her back in thin, slippery rivulets.

"Rub it in, baby," she whispered.

He placed his hands on her lower back and slid them upward. His fingers met the oil and he continued until he arrived at her shoulders. He massaged her flesh as she continued shaking her body to the music.

Another minute passed, and he took the oil from her. Squeezing the bottle, he let the viscous liquid drip onto her spine near the middle of her back. It slowly oozed downward, flowing into the crack of her ass, which was just visible above the top of her boyshorts. Closing the bottle, he let it fall to the floor.

"Sit down," he said.

She stopped wiggling and looked back at him.

"What's the magic word?" she asked.

"Please," he said, trying to avoid sounding as if he were begging.

Val lowered herself into his lap, and the shaft of his cock pressed between the cheeks of her ass -- through the cotton. Brett couldn't suppress a sigh as he felt her heat. He put his hands on her hips, his fingers inspecting the waistband of the panties, as she began to gyrate against him.

"That feels so good," she whispered.

His hands traveled upward, sliding around to her stomach, teasing her skin. Her body fell back against his, her shoulder blades on his chest. He couldn't help himself, his hands found her breasts, cupping them; feeling her hard nipples in his palms. She moaned as he fondled her.

"You shouldn't be doing that," she mumbled.

His fingers tightened, pinching. Her body jerked.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

Val let out long breath, and tilted her head to gaze into his eyes, though it seemed as if she were looking through him, not at him.

"Do you want me to stop, Val?" he repeated.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head no more than an inch.

"What do you want?" he asked as his right hand drifted downward.

"I want to cum," she said.

Once more finding the top of her underwear, he let his fingertips trace along the material, even as he anticipated she would object at any moment.

"Are you sure?" he asked, quietly.

"Yessss," she hissed. "Pleeeease."

Brett kissed her shoulder as his fingers glided over the cotton, lightly brushing her clit. He couldn't help but smile as her body stiffened. Still holding her breasts, he supported her with his left arm. He found the crotch of her panties wet. He couldn't tell if the slickness was from her excitement, or the oil, but he didn't care.

He groped her lips, gently, feeling her body against his. As Val's hips rolled, her ass shifted up and down, back and forth, on his cock, and a short groan escaped his throat. Her hands moved to his. For a moment he was afraid she might stop him, but she squeezed, trying to steady herself as she writhed.

Brett rubbed her harder, and her moans echoed off the walls. Her ragged breathing announced an approaching orgasm, and her knees rose as her body involuntarily tried to double up on his lap.

"I'm gunna cum," she whispered, hoarsely.

He didn't slow his efforts, manipulating her clit with his fingers, driving her toward the temporary bliss of climax. Tremors ran through Val's body. Her nails dug into his skin and the breath caught in her throat. She repeated her warning, then convulsed violently.

"That's it," Brett roared, "cum for me."

"I'm cumming," Val cried, "I'm cummm..."

Her words dissolved into a loud euphoric sob as she shook. Brett continued pleasuring her, not allowing her to relax. Slipping his hand inside her panties, he touched her bare pussy for the first time. His cock throbbed, trapped between their bodies, and he fought to control himself.

"Don't stop," she managed to say. "Please, don't stop."

Brett had no intention to do so. He massaged her wetness, then dipped inside her.

"Yes, like that," she muttered. "Do it."

Without hesitation, his middle finger slid into her, sinking to the last knuckle.

"Fuck, yessss," she howled.

Her cunt contracted as she came again. She wiggled wildly, and he struggled to keep her safely atop him, pulling his hand from her underwear to hold her securely. Valerie quivered for several minutes as he hugged her to him. Brett was so close to his own orgasm he thought he might go mad.

"Val, I need to cum," he grunted.

She sat up quickly.

"Don't you dare," she ordered. "Not yet."

"You're killin' me," he protested.

Valerie stood up carefully, making sure her legs would hold her. Taking two steps away from him, she pushed her boyshorts downward, bending at the waist as she did, giving him a clear view of her ass and pussy as they reached her ankles.

"Holy shit," Brett moaned.

Balancing delicately, Val took off the panties and tossed them aside. She straightened herself, then spun to face him. Spreading her legs slightly, she let her right hand brush her clit, then parted her wet lips with her fingers.

"You like that?" she asked, staring into his eyes.

He nodded.

"Wanna feel it on that big cock?" she continued.

"Yes," he nearly yelled.