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The Birthday Girl Pt. 01

By: OzEliot



FORWARD (with SPOILERS): This is my third submission to Literotica. It's about 29,000 words when completed, runs in two parts, will feature public nudity, female, a girl-girl lapdance, first-time stripping in front of friends, and in the second part, a pretty long sex scene. I hope you enjoy it like I do. Votes and comments are appreciated, but please try to offer comments and criticism as if we were sitting down together, face to face in a public place. Thanks.

* * * * *

I have guy friends and girl friends. The twain shall not meet, as the saying goes, or at least they meet very infrequently. All of them care about me, I know, but there's friction there that's never quite been overcome. Ethan and Tasha dated for about a year before they had a nasty breakup, so that's understandable. Kyle used to be able to hang out with everyone, but then I set him up on a date with Micki and, like a dunce, she had sex with him on the first date and got clingy immediately after. I kind of understood why Kyle didn't want to see her anymore, she can be a psycho in a relationship, but she's a friend going back to kindergarten, so it took me a while to forgive him all the same, and we've agreed-without-agreeing not to talk about it. Jamie is the only one who still gets along with my female friends, and two of them have a bigger crush on him than I had back in high school. This leaves me doing two different birthday dinners, and I shouldn't complain since two free meals is two free meals, but I'm always worried in the back of my mind that Tiffany and Tasha or Caroline and Micki, or with my guy friends some combination of Jamie, Ethan, and Kyle will start bickering with one another and every day of the week will be taken up doing something with each of them. 

I'm Felicia, by the way. Micki calls me Lesha, unless she's in a relationship at the moment and then she won't call me for weeks. It makes me feel all gooey inside when Jamie calls me "Butterfly," it would be creepy from most guys, but I dressed up in a dress with butterfly wings at a Halloween dance my sophomore year and the first time we met after high school, that's what he remembered about me. I thought he was going to ask me out, but I later found out he was just starting a relationship he was excited about and chose "loyalty over lust," as he put it. I was also in a relationship, but never told him I would have gone out with him anyway, my crush on him from high school was that big. 

Jamie's just under six feet tall, maybe 5'11", and my eyes come up even with his lips. One look at his lips and you can't forget that. I think my brown eyes are attractive, they seem large enough, Kyle's made a joke about me being half-anime on my mother's side. I have long brown hair that I straighten as often as possible to get out the kinks, because I dislike them, even if everyone else compliments them. I've only started to realize I'm rather pretty, which might sound crazy, but I always thought my parents or friends who said it were trying to boost my confidence. Very few guys ever said it, and I always assumed the ones who did were trying to get into my pants. I only started believing it because I work at an indie bookstore with three locations around Miami and my boss, Alex, asked me to be the face of the store in some ads. That extended so far as Alex paying to produce a life-size cardboard cut-out of me, smiling at the strangers by the door, and holding my cardboard hands out so an open copy of whatever book we're recommending that week is resting on them. It's more than a little embarrassing, or was at first, but after a while I acclimated to the fame and even kind of liked being the center of attention, albeit in cardboard form. I felt very conspicuous when I was asked to wear a tight pink sweater for the photo shoot, my breasts are small D-cups though I've been squeezing them into a C-cup bra since I was 17, and I have usually worn layers of clothes to preserve their existence as a secret. I suppose I couldn't hide them from Alex, but I've learned there are worse things than men admiring my body. 

Last year I went out with the girls on Friday and the guys on Saturday for my birthday, the first time I had invited Ethan my work friend out with my other friends. I had hoped to get everybody together on the same day, but all the circumstances of the past made most of them very resistant. I got the sense that Jamie and Caroline had talked about going out once and one never answered the other's call, so unlike last year, when he agreed to meet us girls on Friday, he said he couldn't make it this year, but he had a special birthday surprise in mind anyway. 

My actual birthday had been on Wednesday of that week, and I was flooded with calls, cards, and Facebook messages. I spent hours on the phone with my mom until I got the feeling she was dragging out the call to keep me from talking to dad. The bitterness there is still palpable. On Thursday I tried to make the birthday plans, which is when I found out Jamie wouldn't make it on Friday, of course Tasha was particularly intransigent about joining me and the guys, Caroline didn't want to hurt Tasha's feelings, and Tiffany had other plans, assuming we would do the same thing as last year. But Caroline promised me that I would have a night out to remember. I had turned 21 and she found it criminal I might celebrate it without drinking. 

We had a good dinner at a Japanese chain restaurant, I feel guilty admitting it's my favorite place, and then they dragged me down to Li'l Cesar's (not the pizza place, but a bar owned by Caroline's uncle). We got a pitcher of beers on the house and some guys bought us shots to do with them. Things never got too R-rated though, since Caroline's uncle Cesar was usually close by and kept an evil eye on the guys, which made Caroline and me too self-conscious to go home with them. It was a shame, I was really horny after a make-out session with a guy named David. I don't think they were too keen to hang around with us when we refused them, and I can blame Cesar's hanging around, but Micki was her usual depressed self after breaking up with her last boyfriend and brought the mood down somewhat. Caroline even suggested the four of us sneak off to another bar while Micki went to the ladies' room, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. 

Nobody tried as hard as Caroline, I had to give her credit for that, but I spent more of Friday night after David and his crew left us thinking I would have more fun with my guy friends. I got to slip into being one of them whenever we went out, and I thought drinking would probably make it even easier to forget the male-female dynamic. I remembered getting high at Ethan's apartment one night a few months before my birthday and we came up with this crazy idea of playing Trivial Pursuit backwards. It's dorky, I know, but it was surprising fun, having someone read the short answer on the back of the card and we had to come up with a question. It didn't even matter if the question was that accurate, if we came up with a question that made everyone laugh and sounded cool, we would get the win. 

I asked Jamie what I should wear for Saturday, he said anything at all, which didn't help at all. Casual or elegant? Modestly formal or over-the-top, gown-and-evening gloves shit? Casual or very casual? Pajamas? Yeah, I was beating him up over it after a while, but he wouldn't budge, he said absolutely anything was fine. 

"You can wear your old butterfly costume for all I care," he said, which made me blush, even over cell phones. "Make sure you wear some pretty underwear, though."

"Oh god. Why do you say that? Nobody's seeing them, you know that."

"You can't know that for sure, can you, Butterfly?" Ugh, why did that always make me feel like someone had just given my spine a little shake? I told him I knew, maintaining my rigid façade. "Well, if we get into a car accident, you'll feel better wearing your sexiest bra and panties, wouldn't you?"

Okay, maybe my crush on Jamie wasn't completely a thing of the past. He had short black hair that he used to wear spiky back in high school, but had started letting lay lazy on his head. It looked better on him, I thought, sort of unintentionally Goth, just between his dark hair and pale skin, but he also wore wire-frame glasses that gave him an adorable intellectual look, I know most people think glasses detract from someone's beauty, but I don't, and these glasses were the kind people wore even when they didn't have to, like glamour glasses. They made his green eyes seem like giant emerald moons when I stood close enough, and I took every opportunity to stand close, believe me. 

I wore black jeans, an old T-shirt with Green Day on the front, and some sandals with a half-heel, my whole outfit kind of an exercise in halfway dressed up. Fit for a club, but if they took me anywhere fancier I would have to kill Jamie. 

Turned out I didn't have to worry about that, our stop for dinner was their favorite chicken wing place. They paid for dinner, as had become our tradition, but Ethan insisted that I buy the first round of beers since I had my "big 21" license in hand. The food was better at the hibachi place, but I had to admit I was having a better time eating wings with the guys, drinking beers and playing the '90s-'00s trivia on the many screens. We didn't win, but I was the leader among the three of us, and it was hard to compete with Ethan, who was a repository of useless information. 

Kyle and Ethan are great contrasts of each other, Ethan standing at 6'2" with eyes that are kind of buggy, in a cute way, and kinky black hair that's a little too straight for a '70s afro, but does grow kind of while; Kyle is whiter than white, pretty pale, but not too densely freckled, with hair that would be red if it weren't just a touch brown, the shortest of my three guy friends, and with full lips always peeking out of that half-grown beard of his. Neither of them had anything on Jamie, dirty blonde hair always slicked back with product, high cheekbones, puffy lips that I dream about, and brown eyes I would rent as summer homes if I could. I'm not kidding, a company making sex dolls of him wouldn't go out of business, even if I had to buy every one myself.

I thought we'd be going back to Jamie's when we piled into his car—birthday girl gets the shotgun seat, I was happy to hear—but Kyle told me they had a surprise in store. Again, I was worried if I was underdressed for it. 

"Overdressed," said Jamie, and they laughed. "Definitely overdressed."

That didn't sound good. 

Our next stop was three blocks over from the chicken wing place. I had passed the place several times, but had never gone in. The Paradise Lounge. It had a suave neon sign like '60s Vegas, made it seem like a really cool place to visit, but most eyes are more drawn to the lit-up white text-on-red-background sign just beneath it: "All Nude Girls! Every Nite!" 

We sat there for a while and they were staring at me, waiting for my verdict. It wasn't good. 

"I guess it's about time I told you guys... I didn't know how to break it to you until now, which is why it's a well-guarded secret... but I'm a girl." Jamie huffed out a laugh as he took a joint out of his Altoids tin and handed it to Ethan to light. I added, "A straight girl. I don't get off on looking at other girls' tits."

"Can't you let us have one night that's about us?" laughed Ethan. Kyle only shook his head as he made a motion for Ethan to pass the pot. 

"I told them this was a bad idea. I'm on record." 

"You say 'no,' convincing enough, and I'll take us somewhere more boring," Jamie promised. He was half-turned in his seat, allowing him to look me in the eye and to await Kyle's passing of the reefer. "This wasn't an accident, you know, and we didn't come to get a rise out of you. You have a fascination with strippers. We're just trying to do something nice—"

"I do not have a 'fascination' with...! That's... why would you even say that?"

For a second they were silent—worse, silently smirking. Ethan looked my way and said, "Two of the eight books you recommended since starting at Top Shelf have been about strippers." I argued that point, only one of them had been about strippers, America Exposed, the other one was called Sexy Feminism, and it was a series of essays about female sexuality in the 20th and 21st century, and only a couple of those articles spoke favorably of stripping; I saw it as doing my part as a conscientious woman to examine my moral responsibility in how women are perceived. I could tell Ethan wasn't all that convinced. "Then there was that documentary on stripping that you had me watch."

"That was a good movie," I laughed, hoping I didn't sound as nervous as I was. They were making a more impressive case than I expected. "You told me you liked it. I found it pretty moving. That one girl was obviously in love with the other one. You usually don't get that kind of real-life drama in a documentary. And it wasn't prurient at all."

Leaning forward as he gave Jamie the joint, Kyle threw out, "You made us watch Showgirls on my birthday."

"Because it's a bad movie! Believe me, it wasn't because of my great love of strippers. It wasn't for it's moving plot either—"

"When I told you I'd been to a strip club last year..."

"Oh, yeah!"

Jamie laughed and went on, "You asked about every detail as if I'd said... said I had gotten to meet the Beatles. 'How many girls were there?' 'Did they all get naked?' 'How close did they get to you?' 'Did they rub themselves all over you?'"

The rest of them were all laughing along, hard, and I could only roll my eyes and tell him, "Look, it was a boring story. I was just trying to make you feel like I was interested—" A rumbling doubtful groan from the three guys in the car. "You guys are so warped. What did you think would happen? That I would jump up and down for joy? 'Oh boy, a strip club!'"

Kyle looked at the others as if they weren't sure they should use their big gun or not, then he fired his best shot: "You did tell me around... think it was last November... that you used to fantasize about being a stripper."

I must have had a stupid look on my face, almost a smile, and Jamie was looking at me as if daring me to refute that. All I could say was, "We were high. And I thought you could keep a fucking secret." They all had a great laugh at my expense. I hoped in the dark car they couldn't make out how red I had gotten. I took the spliff from Jamie, shaking my head, then sucked it into my lungs. Just being in the parking lot for this place made me nervous, and getting high in a commercial lot probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it did calm me down a little. I considered if I was objecting too much, but it seemed crazy to go in there. I could only imagine they would think I was some kind of lesbian pervert. Yet as they made their case, I had to admit, behind all my protests, there was a part of me that was curious to see what it looked like on the inside. To be clear, I am not a lesbian pervert, don't even have any strong Sapphic impulses, you know, just... maybe I can admit to admiring some women's bodies. The fact was, Kyle was right—my interest in strippers was more along the lines of fantasizing myself into the role. 

"C'mon, Butterfly," said Jamie, giving me that too-charming smile. "You're supposed to be the fun one of the group. Kyle's the dud."

"Yeah, make sure he doesn't hear us talking about him," smirked Kyle. 

"Go in there and take a peek. See what it's like. You'll have a story to tell your real friends and you can always blame the big bad dirty boys for making you go." 

It was a fact that he could talk me into anything, and though I relented as if I were doing them the favor, I think by that point I would have been the one arguing if they had tried to drive away. I took another toke and held it deep as they continued goading me on, then blew out a breath of it. 

"Okay," I said. I made them wait for me to spray some perfume on my neck and wrists—they may not mind smelling like a high school men's room wherever they went, but I didn't care for it. 

The inside of the Paradise Lounge was much less of a fantasy, at least not my fantasy. There was a long, phallic-shaped stage jutting through the crowd of tables, seats positioned all along it for those who wanted the closest inspection of dancers, presumably gynecologists or mammogram operators. There was a small lobby with a curtain between the lounge itself and the parking lot, the place where Jamie paid my cover and we got carded, and that was lit in violet. In the furthest corner was a small circular stage also lit in violet, and there was one to my immediate right as well, the lights somewhere between a blue and blacklight, like a club. On my left was the bar, stretching out the length of most of the room, with an attractive red-leather booth stuck in that corner. The brightest lights in the house were preserved for that main stage, and working it when we came in was a black dancer with very large breasts and long, braided hair, silver boots, and a matching thong. Two other dancers, one Latina and one white, were working the smaller stages. All three of them had a pretty dedicated following, though the girl on the main stage seemed to have the space for all of her fans. Each stage had a shining steel pole, which made me ridiculously giddy. That was as I had always pictured it. 

The club was crowded, that much was plain, but despite having about forty or fifty people in it, I later heard the bartender telling Ethan that it wasn't as busy that night because of the college basketball game drawing the audiences away. At the back of the room, beside one of two pairs of stairs leading to the main stage, was a door leading to an area lit in bright, sharp pink lights, a more severe use of red than the neon bulbs running along the walls or the big "Paradise" spelled out over the back of the main stage. The dancers' dressing rooms, or what I assumed that was, a dark door right off the main stage, was symmetrically opposite the pink-lit hall on the other side of the stage. 

I didn't like all the men looking at me as if I were a freak for being there. Maybe if I had come in with one big guy I wouldn't have gotten so much attention, but I was leading the way with Jamie, Kyle, and Ethan following me, and that made me think they all considered me a slut. Maybe it was just my overactive imagination. There were about two other women in the club that I saw who didn't work there, or I assumed didn't, and one of them was talking to a woman in a bikini who must've been a dancer. 

We were looking for a seat, a booth on the far side of the club maybe, when the dancer on the main stage rolled onto her back, stuck her ass up into the air, and worked her thong up her legs. I stopped walking and just stared. When she brought her body down to lie on her back again, she spread her legs wide as she sat up. I was staring at another woman's pussy, and I couldn't really help myself. I really didn't have any lustful thoughts about her, though I was teased about it for a few minutes after my friends caught me looking. I was just surprised. Seeing "all nude" on the sign out front and seeing it as it happened were different things. 

Six booths aligned the far wall, and we took one in the middle; only four were occupied, seats in front of the stage were more appealing to most men. Just behind the last booth was a tinted glass door leading elsewhere, and I mentioned I was curious where it led, which prompted Kyle to tell us it was a sex toy and adult DVD store. I laughed at that. I made a joke that they probably sold plastic pussies for all the guys going home with hard-ons and Ethan said I was probably exactly right. 


The Birthday Girl Pt. 01



A waitress with breasts smaller than mine and glowing eyes—at least under our lights—came by and politely reminded us about the drink minimum. We all ordered our drinks right away and Jamie paid for mine and his, Ethan paid for Kyle's and his own, and we all talked about getting drunk before the next dancer got naked on stage. 

From my seat I had a hard time seeing the right corner stage over tall Ethan's head, but I had a good view of the main stage and the left corner stage. It soon seemed obvious the girls didn't get fully naked on the corner stages, although they were the same girls who took the main stage and stripped everything off. I guessed when I saw the black girl with the silver boots take the smaller stage that everybody had their main stage time and their smaller stage appearances. Anywhere they operated, they seemed to rake in a lot of singles, sometimes bigger bills. 

"You, like, can't tear your eyes away," said Kyle, and they all cracked up at my expense. 

"You wanted me to see what it was like. Pardon me for finding it weird."

"Oh, it's 'weird,'" Jamie mocked. "Not 'arousing.' Not 'sexy.'"

"Most definitely not," I said, smiling thinly. I didn't want them to realize that I was, yeah, the word is "fascinated." 

We had gotten our drinks and were finishing the second, Kyle was well ahead of us as usual, and looking for our waitress. Jamie noticed her, laughing to himself when he told us that she probably wouldn't be back too soon for us. Our craning necks and darting eyes found her in the most obvious place—the corner stage beside the door. She was topless, lying on her belly, smiling as she took a twenty dollar bill with her mouth from some guy's lips. When she stood up again, I could see that she was wearing a tiny red G-string instead of the pink boyshorts that I thought were part of her waitress outfit. It was almost funny, I had never questioned why what she wore was so skimpy when she took our drink orders, being in a place like this, but I hadn't considered she was another dancer. Her breasts were really nice, not that I would have said that out loud to the guys. They weren't quite as big as mine, but she had larger nipples. I thought they were so cute. 

"I think Felicia's in love," Kyle kidded me, and I dipped my fingers in my drink and flicked droplets at his face. 

"Do you like her?"

"She's very pretty—for a stripper," I said, trying not to dig myself much deeper. "I was just wondering if we can tip her regular or if we have to tuck it into her panties."

"Be careful, Felicia, she'll probably be giving you change back." They had a laugh at Ethan's remark, so did I, but I continued to watch our waitress and hoped they would just take it for curiosity. After all, that's all it was. 

"Give her a dollar." I waved Ethan away, but he laughed and insisted. He was usually the more quiet of the four of us, but a little alcohol tripped his talkative buttons. "I'm serious. It's rude to just stare at a stripper and not tip. It's like getting six or seven refills at a restaurant and not tipping."

"To hell with you, Ethan. You're the stripper expert, I guess..."

"For real, give her a tip," insisted Jamie. I asked him for a dollar while I thought about it, working up my nerve. "No way. Use your own cash."

"Oh, I would, but some assholes abducted me here without warning me I would need lots of cash. Are you going to give me a dollar or—"

I saw him take a roll of singles out of his pocket and we all laughed and hooted—he had come prepared. He skinned some from the roll and kept tossing them my way, making me laugh. I probably had ten of them by the time he finished. 

"You're supposed to tuck them in her underwear, Jamie," Kyle advised, and I stuck my tongue out him lasciviously. I sometimes forgot that Kyle had a thing for me he didn't disguise too well, but I kind of sensed that Ethan did, too. Or maybe that's just what it felt like being the center of attention among three guys. It was only too bad Jamie didn't have a thing for me, I would have jumped on the opportunity. 

I believe our waitress was just about to finish her set when I showed up with my singles. I must have seemed like a real dork, handing her a dollar like I was buying a newspaper from a newsstand. I laughed a little bit when she smiled, then she swung her ass my way. Okay, too close, I thought. But maybe it wasn't as bad as my first impulses made me feel. The cheeks of her ass had actual dimples, and the underside of one cheek had a little brown dot; there were a few pimples I saw as well, but they were slight enough that a thin layer of make-up would have made them invisible. You know, if she were dancing in a Lethal Weapon movie or something. 

"C'mon," she urged me, giving her hips a shake. Oh. Now I got it. I looked back at my leering friends, I knew they wouldn't miss it, and the waitress said, "You know it'll give them a kick. Go on."

I pulled the red band of her G-string out as if I were going to floss with it, stuck the dollar bill to the skin above her buttock, and let it snap shut. She yelped out, then turned to me with a smile. I tried to get her to turn around to give her a new bill, maybe a little high on the nervousness of the moment, but she only looked down at the front of her G-string, a flimsy inverted triangle. She nodded, then when I wouldn't do anything, she pulled it out. If I let my eyes wander, I would be staring right down the front of her panties. So what? I later thought, on my way back to the table. She is a stripper. At the moment I only leaned my head back as if offended by the sight, smiled weakly, and let the dollar bill hover there until she let her panties slip back into place. 

"Aw, she's shy," the stripper said, and that made me scowl a little bit. I couldn't be that shy, I had come here in the first place, I was giving her money where everyone could see it. It wasn't like I needed to spend money to see a naked chick, I had a mirror at home. 

I put the last bill between my teeth and raised my eyebrows at her. She smiled wide at me. I realized how ridiculous I must look, but the weed and alcohol were making me feel more bulletproof than usual. I looked back to the guys and clasped my hands behind my back. They were riotous as they watched us. 

The stripper put a hand on the back of my head and brought me in like it was a real kiss. She opened her mouth in a way that made me think of giving a guy head and she snapped her teeth down on the single, then pressed in close enough that her lips touched mine. They just brushed each other, nothing really lewd, but it made my heart pump, especially knowing the guys were watching. Her breath smelled like cigarettes, but I didn't mind, which is mostly funny because I had even refused to date smokers before that. 

I returned to the table covering my mouth. They were giving me applause, and I wished I didn't like it so much. I knew at the time I was going to have a hard time living it all down the next time we hung out with each other. 

"Why didn't you give her the rest of the money?" 

I made a face at Jamie and shook my head. "She didn't even get all the way naked," I joked. 

A girl came by and said our waitress was on break, she would be taking over, so Ethan bought us a round. We were talking about my birthday night out with the girls and both Ethan and I were running our mouths more than usual. I said some not-altogether-nice things about how Micki wasn't the most exciting girl in the world and how Tasha could never come up with anything better to do than see a movie. We were in the middle of laughing about something like that when our first waitress came up to us again. I blushed when I saw her, and I hoped the guys hadn't noticed. 

"Hey, singles," she said to me, which made Kyle laugh obnoxiously loud. "You having a good time? Who here's your boyfriend?"

I worried she was hitting on me, but it was possible she was just being friendly. I told her they were all my boyfriends—Jamie had the best dick, Kyle had the best ass, and Ethan owned a car. Yeah, the alcohol had notched my personality up into another level by then. 

She smiled and said, "Well, I'm Star. If I can bring you anything, let me know." To my embarrassment, Jamie asked when she would be up on the main stage. She grinned at him, making me a little more certain she wasn't hitting on me because she probably had a thing for him, and said she had about an hour or so until she got the main stage again. "We all take shifts waiting tables, doing lapdances, working the stages... Wally doesn't like hiring girls who won't do the stage. So I end up slinging chicken wings and boilermakers when I'm not shaking my ass. But I'll be up there. Don't worry."

Jamie pointed at me and slurred out, "She was mad she didn't get to see your pussy."

Star looked right at me, not that surprised, and I sank my face into my hands. As she asked me if it was true, I gasped out, "No, no! That was... that's his idea of a joke."

"'Cause I just have to cover the orders at a few more tables before I can do lapdances," she said. She leaned on the table, her breasts hanging forward between me and Kyle, and she continued, "If your boyfriends really wanted to treat you right, they'd spring for one for you. What do you think?"

"I think I'm going to start sobering everyone up," I said. She grinned at me, stood up again, and reminded us she would be coming back to offer anyway. 

Those minutes passed with Ethan, Kyle, and Jamie conspiring amongst themselves to get me into the "red room" with Star. I stopped laughing after a few seconds, when they seemed like they were taking it too seriously. I pleaded with them to stop, but they were sick with the idea. Ethan was a little bit more broke than I was, and I was the poorest of all of us, but he volunteered to pay for a third of the lapdance, and that seemed to make it all happen. I protested, said I wouldn't do it, but Jamie smiled at me. 

"I can't believe you would come all the way down here and not do a lapdance. What happened to your research?"

"I'm not researching anything! I just found the subject of strippers kind of—"

"You can't go to your friends and tell them we brought you out to the Paradise Lounge and we offered to pay for a lapdance and you didn't do it. What would they think of you?" Ethan asked. 

"They would probably think I'm normal!"

"Normal. Meaning boring," added Jamie. That frustrated me. I knew he was taking advantage of my self-image, always believing myself the wildest one of my friends. But between his playing with my head and the idea of bragging about this story and, well, the fact that I kind of did want to see what a lapdance was like... my resolve eventually broke down. I let them talk me into it. 

Star came back around with a few black check holders, credit cards peeking out the top, and she asked me if I was game for the lapdance. Jamie answered for me that I was, which I preferred, since I could always claim to her he had made me do it. Smiling back at us, she waved the check holders and said she would be back to "collect" me in a second. I took slow and steady breaths while I waited, and that made Kyle laugh all the more. 

They would have preferred to take pictures, or at least watch the whole thing, but Star said the completely nude "lounge dances" were between the dancer and the recipient. She stood me up and walked me back to the hallway glowing with the sultry red lights. There was a heavyset guy in a suit getting a fully nude dance from a girl with brown hair a bit shorter than mine. Her ass was so skinny, it made me think for a minute she was a little kid, but when she turned I saw she had a big fake rack. I preferred Star's breasts myself, they were natural, like mine. I caught myself thinking that and wondered if I would ever live it down if I had said it out loud to the guys. 

"You don't really have to do this," I told her. "They aren't here. They won't know."

"It's against the exotic dancer code to fake a lapdance," she joked, sitting me down in a small seat with marble walls on either side of us. She lifted a velvet rope and connected it to a latch, closing off our little stall from the most formidable invaders. I stared at Star, then laughed self-consciously. "What's your name, honey?"

"Felicia," I said. I couldn't have felt more weird, at least that's what I thought before she started taking her clothes off. Soon Star was out of her bra and her tits were hanging there. Then they were brushing against my face. 

"You can't touch me," she reminded unnecessarily. "Sorry, those are the rules. The good news is... I can touch you."

"Oh. Well... um..."

She at on my thighs, making it a more name-fitting lapdance, and wriggled around in her pink boyshorts while I sat there feeling out of place. Star was smiling at me, leaned in, let me catch a good whiff of her breath again, then she blew cold air against my neck, making me shudder. Her eyes were bright blue, very pretty, and she kept her black hair cut pretty short. I envied the look, it was one I had brought myself to the verge of choosing for my own quite a few times. 

"The goods are here, sister," she said with a breath voice, shaking her tits back and forth. "Don't be afraid to look. You're paying for this—"

"No, I, no—I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm just... I'm not a lesbian."

Star nodded, seeming a little more ladylike, a little more sincere, but then she said, "I've fucked a few girls, but I'm not a lesbian. I've got a boyfriend. He's proud of the way I experiment."

"Oh. Well, I... I'm not really..."

She stood up, then shimmied back and forth as she worked her boyshorts down. I saw her red G-string still in place underneath and I had a bizarre flash of disappointment. I forgot I wasn't looking her in the eyes and I glanced back up, which made her smile. 

"I hate it when guys stare at my body," I muttered. It had nothing to do with anything, maybe. 

Star turned her back to me, let me lay eyes on her substantial ass again, then she said over her shoulder, "Are you sure? You've got a hell of a body. There must be something you like about it—"

"No."

"Too quick saying no," she said again, turning to face me. She dropped to her knees and let her head hover over my lap. I went stiff all over, bracing my elbows against the marble walls as if I thought someone was going to try to pull me out of the chair, and Star only laughed a little bit. Her breath blew on my jeans and I laughed loudly, uncomfortably. "What's the matter?"

"That doesn't do anything for me," I said. I should have said nothing, just told her I was cold or something, but nothing would have concealed the effect she was having on me. 

Again Star turned her back to me, but this time she slid her thong all the way down to her ankles. It was a practiced motion, everything from the stance she chose to the way she scooted her panties aside with a foot told me she had done it many times before. Her full lips protruded between her thighs for those few seconds she was bent, and I liked seeing them. I'm not sure I was sexually attracted to them, although I can't deny I felt something. Maybe it was just seeing a part of a woman that was incredibly intimate, even movies and most magazines shied away from revealing a woman that way. By rights, I thought, no man would see me that way unless he was preparing to fuck me. That's what this felt like, I realized. Foreplay. That made this all feel so much dirtier. 

Star was rubbing her ass against my crotch and I laughed anxiously. She was working it hard against my sensitive lap. "I don't... ah-ha... I don't think that's going to do anything for me. I don't have anything down there..."

"C'mon, baby, I know you got something."

She turned back to face me, letting me ogle her tits and her entirely smooth mound, then Star straddled my legs. Her hands touched the back of my head and brought my face forward. Shit, I found my lips glazing her right nipple before I could avoid it. I jerked away, but she gave me a pouty look. 

"Okay, I get it... you're straight."

"I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't even want to come here."

"Then why did your friends bring you?" 

I sighed a shaking breath, then said, "It's my birthday. The big two-one. I, uh... I know, this is nuts. They think I'm fascinated with strippers."

Star bounced her tits as she shifted her shoulders. "But you're not? Right?" I shook my head, but she smirked at me. "Honey, I've seen a lot of angry wives and girlfriends in the parking lot. Girls who get brought here and then demand to go home. I've even had some of them come as far as the first few steps into the Lounge... then they get pissed off and go home. They definitely didn't want to be here. You made it this far... so I don't know who you think you're fooling."

I covered my mouth as I giggled, then peeked over the tops of my fingers. "I guess it's a little... I don't really like strippers."

"No?" 

"I just... I don't..." I looked away from her, then my eyes fell down to her naked pussy, sliding up and down what might have been a hell of an erect penis, if I had only been born with a Y instead of an X. "I kind of... I fantasize about... being a stripper."

I couldn't believe I had told her that. I smiled at her smile. It felt good to confess that to someone, particularly someone who would never tell. 

Matter-of-factly, Star inquired, "Why don't you do it?"

The volume and speed with which I argued against it only served to make her laugh. "I'm not really much of an extrovert."

"A shy girl can get just as naked as a slut," she said, hopping on me in a way that made me feel all the more aroused. "Besides, I don't think you're all as introverted as you pretend. I've got a sister who is shy and she can't even stand to see me in my underwear. You've got a better body than I do, I think. You should try it."

"I do not have a better body than—" Star shut me up with a tweak of my tits, both hands gripping me. I laughed out loud, and it wasn't a nervous yelp. "Stop. C'mon."

"I'll tell you what..." I was already shaking my head. Nothing that followed those words would be anything good for me. Grinning wickedly, Star said, "When I do my show at one-twenty... why don't I bring you up? I can get you a costume and—"

"No, no... that's just... no!"

"Okay. But I was going to tell you... once I take out the house's take, anything we make up on the stage I'll split evenly with you."

"I don't need the money," I lied. Hell, I worked at a bookstore, not exactly the casinos of the 21st century, of course I needed money. But the last thing I was going to do was get up there and dance for money. There were reasons to take my clothes off for strangers, but I couldn't stomach the idea of money being one of them. All the same, all of my ideas of feminist sexuality and the empowerment of public nudity weren't exactly in my mind. "Sorry. I just don't... I'm not ready to do something like that."

"I get it. Fantasies are safer when they're locked up in your head," she said. Star wrapped her arms around me and slid her hands up the back of my shirt, bare skin on bare skin, and I trembled all over. "It's okay, honey. I used to fantasize about this, too. It's just work to me now. But that first time I got up on stage... it was pretty intense."

I actually asked, "Would I have to take all my clothes off?" Even after I said it I seemed to hear it come out in my voice, then started to laugh it off, but Star didn't seem fooled. 

"You would love to take all your clothes off," she said, smiling too wide for my tastes. "But you take off as much or as little as you want. I think once I get you tramped up into a little outfit of mine—"

"Sorry, no," I said, then repeated firmly, "No. I... I would kind of like to. But I can't. I just can't."




The Birthday Girl Pt. 01



She jammed her tits into mine, her breath mixing with mine and filling my nostrils, and she rode me for a few more seconds. Somewhere in the middle of that she said, "I understand. Maybe some other time."

Star was breathing as hard as I was when she got off of me and collected her clothes from the floor. She stepped back into them and didn't make me feel strange for watching. 

"You were a lot of fun," she told me. "Almost a shame to charge you for this."

I felt so detached from reality when I walked back out to the main floor that I didn't even hear what a guy said to me while I walked beside the length of the main stage. He probably thought I was a bartender by the way I was dressed, somewhat more clothed than the dancers. I went back to Jamie and asked for the keys. He wanted to know if I wanted to leave, but they were having a good time and I wasn't quite ready for that. I just told him I wanted to get "into the car." I'm pretty sure Ethan knew from that I wanted more pot. 

For a few minutes I sat there in the car, letting the smoke sink into my lungs, my blood, my brain, and it did a lot to rest my nerves. I worried at first that Ethan or the other two would come out to share the reefer with me, but maybe they thought I had embarrassed myself back in the red room. Had I? Probably. My best conscious thought, the one that made me nervous enough to need a little relaxer, was picturing myself up there. Standing on the main stage like those strippers. We had been watching the girls on stage together while we talked, me and the guys, and they would try to embarrass me, like asking if I had had enough pussy by then. I remarked that I wanted to see theirs first, that shut them up a little bit. 

I didn't need any more alcohol. I didn't need any more weed. My judgment was already severely impaired, and I worried that I was talking myself into getting up there on stage. Ethan had been right about my fascination with strippers, even if I hadn't made the whole story clear. I had fantasized about being on stage, stripping in front of men, since I was about 17. I let my last boyfriend "talk" me into stripping for him, pretending to be embarrassed at first, but I soon forgot all about my act. I rubbed various parts of my body in his face, shook my ass and tits for him, sat on his lap just like Star sat on mine, but I got a much bigger rise out of him. We fucked like crazy that night, and all I could think about while drifting off to sleep was how I wanted to be seen my more guys. On a real stage. 

This was a real chance to do that. A weird, incredibly lucky, no-one-will-believe-it birthday present. However, my friends were out there. I could go in there, convince them I'm bored to death or bothered, maybe too drunk and too high to have any more fun, get them to take me home. Then I could come back and do it some other night. 

But they wouldn't be there—and I think that would take some of the fun out of it. Oh, I wasn't right in the head. I had to admit that to myself. 

I got out of the car and forgot to spray myself with perfume, which I didn't regret until I got back inside the club. One nice thing about being an attractive woman in a strip club was that the bouncer hadn't forgotten I was in there before, waved me right in again. I found Star bringing some empty beer bottles back to the bar on a tray. She smiled when she saw me. I wondered if she knew I had cracked already. 

"You said I could take the stage with you. Does that offer still stand?"

The way she smiled answered the question for me. 

I told the guys I wanted to talk to Star for a few minutes—would they be alright alone? Considering they were staring at a redhead's bountiful ass over my shoulder, they seemed like they would survive. I squeezed Jamie's nose playfully to make sure he knew I was going, and he nodded. I tried not to think too long on how they would be staring at my ass if everything went as I imagined it. No way, I wasn't going to go too crazy up there. Maybe I could take my top off, but anything more than that would be... I hadn't even worn a thong underneath my jeans! The one thing I was sure about when I went out with the guys was that I wasn't bringing anyone home to check out my underwear. 

There was only one other girl in the back room, she was a girl with light brown skin and a smallish chest, and she was fitting a tiny bra around her tits when I walked into the dressing room. It was better lit than any other part of the club, except maybe the stage. Star snapped her fingers to get me to undress. I was having plenty of second thoughts already, but I thought, hey, it'll be a kick to go out there on stage. If I chicken out and don't strip for the strangers, maybe they would be satisfied watching Star finish without me. I got down to my underwear and bra and Star looked me over, like wondering if I was planning on going further, and I sat down so she could do my hair and make-up. I preferred to wear my hair straight and my makeup on the natural side, but Star insisted on teasing my hair out '80s rock slut-style. Once she got the heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow on me, it didn't look so bad. She painted my lips hot pink, which looked absolutely garish under the regular lights, but she promised me it would work on stage. 

"Think about it... I take my tits out at the bank, I'm going to get the cops called on me," she said, which made me smile. "But up there, it works. There's a lot of shit we're allowed to do on a stage we can't do anywhere else. You should enjoy it."

"I'm wondering if my friends will."

"Are they gay?" Star asked. I laughed and shook my head, but she gave me a playful slap to make me hold still again. "I think they'll struggle through it. Somehow."

"Maybe I should ask them to leave," I said, looking for her reaction in the mirror. I really didn't feel like sending them away, I might not have even had the nerve to take the stage if I didn't know someone in the crowd. I thought there was probably something wrong with me for feeling that way. I asked Star, "Have your friends ever seen you up there?"

She half-smiled, then told me, "The friends I met here, of course. I got another friend... it's a she... Rhonda is always trying to 'save' me from this life. But then with the other breath she's always talking about how she can't afford to pay her bills. Not a convincing argument. My mother knows what I do and hates it. My father—nobody ever believes me when I say it, but my father is okay with it. But he told me he needs to know where I'm working on any single night, because if he goes into a club and sees me on stage, he'll have to kill a room full of perverts."

I covered my mouth. "I don't think I'll be telling my parents about tonight."

"They'll need to know if it becomes a regular thing. You shouldn't try to hide something this big a part of your life—"

"It won't be a 'regular thing,' believe me." I sighed, staring at my breasts. Star must have seen where my eyes were looking—or maybe she was looking there already. 

"I also had a boyfriend that I told about this. He was cool with it at first. He thought he was cool with it, I should say. Funny how many guys are like that. But then he got nasty and possessive and shit... look, you really should at least change your bra. I've got something pretty sexy, black... a little rhinestoney..."

When I didn't argue, she unfastened my bra and took it off, leaving me topless. I made a feeble effort to cover myself up, but it must have seemed funny to her. I mean, I was talking about going out on stage and exposing myself. She probably had more doubts than I did that I would get up there at all. 

The stripper top fit better than my own. Funny to reach my age and learn a lesson about fitting clothes. Once she had me in that, Star started working on me to borrow a thong. I refused for a bit, but eventually started to cave. The first one she suggested to me went a lot better with the top I wore, and as Star put it, if I wasn't planning on giving them "the grand tour," I should at least let them have a look-see at the back porch. She had a wonderfully sleazy way of making it all feel. I continued to resist for a little bit, but she found it amusing. 

"Tell me, Felicia... why do you want to get up there and do this at all?"

The question caught me by surprise, made me stammer a little. I didn't know how to respond because I kind of thought she saw right through me, having asked me in the first place and convinced me to go this far. My brown eyes stared up at her, I shrugged, then I said, "I guess... I just wanted the experience. I've read so much... I thought..."

Neither of us believed me. I honestly didn't know why I wanted to get up there and do this, or at least I couldn't say it out loud. Star wasn't fooled. 

"Almost all the girls come in here and talk about how much they need the money," Star said, fluffing my hair out over my shoulders a little more. "The amateurs are usually just drunk, laughing about how silly it is... or trying to make their boyfriends happy. You haven't mentioned money once... we're not having an amateur night... and I know those guys aren't your boyfriends. You're willing to get up on that stage and take your clothes off, in front of your friends... for free? Honey... tell me I'm wrong if I am... but I think you want to feel sexy. I think you want to be seen."

"I... no. I don't."

"And why shouldn't you?" she asked, putting her fingers on my cheek. "You've got a wonderful body and a really pretty face. If you don't have a boyfriend now, there's no better time to do this. They either get possessive and turn into jealous assholes... or they get too much of a kick out of it. It starts becoming about how much they enjoy it. If you're going to do it, do it now. While you're young and... pert... and single enough to just do it for you."

I shook my head, made light of her reasoning, but I didn't want to let her know it was pretty close to how I felt. I knew I had a great body, nothing I could admit to anyone else, male or female, but I had spent my last couple years of high school at the beach, pretending not to notice the way men of all ages drooled over me. I had gone to the tanning beds in recent months just to keep away the tan lines, but I always wished I had been able to show myself at a nude beach like it was no big deal. 

I asked for the thong, she gave it to me, and I looked for some place to change—but I was already in the dressing room of course. Star watched me expectantly, and to preserve some sense of modesty, I turned away from her and pulled my panties down—just at the door opened and another dancer came in. I turned away in a mild panic and found myself facing the mirror. Star was laughing at me. Not quite as brave as I thought I was. 

"I need another toke," I sighed to myself. She said she would bring me a drink. 

While Star went to the bar to set me up, I watched the new stripper, a girl with short brown hair and a rather flat chest, get into her costume. She kept smiling at me, making me feel like a goon for watching her, but I couldn't tear my eyes away for long. 

Star returned, handed me the drink, and told the other dancer that she was sharing the stage with me tonight. There was a lot of competition for the main stage, I knew, and getting up there as an amateur on a Saturday night would have been impossible. It was a real favor Star was doing for me, and when I asked her why she was wasting her time on me, she said she thought I was cute and would like to see me return the favor and strip for her. 

"Plus, it's not all charity... I ought to make a lot more in tips with you up there, even splitting my share in half. Just don't get weird and shy if I touch you." My face must have frozen like I had seen a ghost, she just giggled. "Nothing worse than you'd see in a basic cable movie."

Getting me into a thong wasn't quite enough for Star, she kept pushing a sheer black G-string on me, but I wasn't giving in on that. The short-haired dancer left before us, taking the stage. I heard the DJ announce her as "Everlust." Me and Star smiled at each other. 

"Some girls go for original. I prefer classic," she laughed. Star sat at the mirror freshening her own makeup, then she asked me, "What name do you like? We've got to call you something, don't we?" 

I thought for a moment while she prepared a text to the DJ. When she looked at me, I didn't have a hard time coming up with a name. "Butterfly. Is that classic enough?"

Ten minutes and several second-thoughts later, I heard the DJ call out. "Alright, mis amigos... you guys ready for my girl Star again? Yes... that's—no, no, I need you to be louder than that. A little more... okay, that's better. You're gonna break your arms giving up the love when you see what Star brought with her tonight. She's got a sweet newcomer joining her on stage, I swear to you, she's a brand new Paradise girl, never been seen before, not by me, not by anyone... show the love now to Star and Butterfly...!"

We walked to the stage close together, Star just ahead of me, and we strutted down the catwalk as we rehearsed. It felt a little dangerous, not in a sexy and wild way, but in the way that two girls bumping shoulders on a narrow walkway feels. Well, also a little in the sexy and wild way. Taking the spot ahead of me, Star shook her hips back and forth in time with an old Janet Jackson song, "Nasty Boys." I remembered a minute after she finished that she had told me to put my hands on her hips. Star sashayed left and then right, then slid behind me. A gentle push at my back made me take a couple of steps forward.

I was a deer caught in headlights for a moment, except deer have the benefit of already being naked. I was wearing a transparent nightie with my borrowed silver bra and panties underneath. I remembered what Star had told me, that I had to be sexy, I had to stay in motion, and there wasn't an audience out there, it was just a big mirror. Dance for them like I danced at home—and don't knock her off the stage. 

I bucked my hips forward, backward, bobbing left and right. I raised my hands over my head, squeezing my arms against my ears. It helped block out the loud music, which wasn't really my kind of beat, and the calls of the men around me. They approved, they were enthusiastic, but they turned my nerves to shreds, even if I kind of liked it. I had to ease into being up there, and it was difficult to do while I was bumping and grinding and dancing. I could get away with dancing on that stage like I could never get away with it on a dance floor. I'd have been way too self-conscious to emphasize my ass and hips and tits when dancing normal. Thank goodness none of this was normal. 

Laughs abounded when Star felt she had to move me to the other side of the pole with her hands on my arms. I smiled sheepishly and remembered what she had said about sharing the stage. She wiggled her way to the opposite side of the small circle—the dickhead, as I couldn't help but think of it—and I saw over my shoulder that she opened her white vest, letting it fall to the stage. The hooting became louder. I toyed and tantalized with the strings keeping my nightie closed, careful not to get overanxious and just take it off. Star warned me that the most common mistake most girls made on the stage for the first time was moving too fast, failing to draw out the tease. Of course, she added, the second big mistake is making it too slow, losing the audience by trying to make it last too long. Apparently it was all something I would have to learn how to do over time. 

With her ass to the audience, rising and falling with every set of male eyes on her side, she worked her tight shiny white skirt down her legs. I had my back to the audience as well, shaking my tail, but giving most of the attention to her, and I noticed in the shine of the nearest table the red cloth between her legs, the crimson thread creeping up through her cheeks. When she raised her face again, we saw each other, and we both smiled, then abandoned those smiles for our seductive faces. 

My back still to the bar side of the room, I pulled the strings on my borrowed nightgown and let it fall from my shoulders. I could see the wealth of my skin bared under those bright stage lights. I shook my brown hair out, as much as it would move teased to the sky as it was, and I clasped the shed nightie to my front when I turned to face the crowd. They clapped their hands and shouted their approval. I was so drunk on their noise that I didn't realize it wasn't bothering me anymore. This was a lot more what I imagined it would be like to be up here. I saw my breasts shaking all over, hard to see anything beneath them, and I squeezed my arms together to make them seem even bigger. I wondered how many men in the audience preferred me to Star, inexperienced but with a pretty large chest and, I thought, a very attractive ass and slim, long legs. 

God, they could see my ass! The thought hit me just as I noticed my cheeks were feeling as cold as my legs and arms. I had some considerable cleavage spilling out of my bra, more than I had ever let anyone see, and it seemed a difficult choice to show them my front or back. 

Star urged me around to the other side of the stage. She rounded the back and shoved me along politely until I was on the right front of the stage. When Star put her back to mine, I remembered her other instructions. Oh, this was fucking kinky, I thought. She shook her breasts back and forth and left her back open to me, all so I could lean over to her and undo the clasp on her top. When it was open, Star lifted her arms and gyrated wildly until it fell free, then she let it slide from her arms. She turned to me and we did a short close dance for their amusement—and mine as well. I loved staring at her tits, I didn't have to fake my sultry smile. She had dark nipples, they were red like cherries, but under a thin sheen like a light layer of chocolate. They were ample, bigger outside their cloth restraints than they looked beneath her T-shirt. I loved shaking mine against hers. 

Her finger came out and plucked at my top playfully, pulling at the small bridge between each breast, letting it snap back into place. I had to suck in a breath when I was sure it was about to break, but it didn't. The guys were working themselves up all around us. 

Singles littered the black stage beneath our feet, and I felt one guy reaching up to tuck a dollar into my sandal. I smiled at him. He seemed more polite than some of the others who were beckoning me closer, even if they were offering me more money. 

Star pulled my top again and the clasp broke, the cloth flying apart and displaying my bare tits to anyone who was looking. I covered my mouth and laughed, hopefully it didn't ruin the show when I was caught in a natural smile like that. I looked down and saw my nipples, that light pink that was almost the color of my flushed skin, and they were hard enough that they might have cut their way out of my top if they hadn't been freed. My breasts had never felt heavier on my chest at the same time, full of motion with every slight step I made. Good god, I was all but naked in front of these strangers! Star patted my cheek and made a circling gesture to get me to face the other way. 

I had to attend some of my excited fans, so I got down on my knees and leaned forward, feeling my large breasts swing back and forth like the hem of a long skirt. So many of those eyes were on my tits, especially my nipples, and I wondered if they knew how aroused all this left me. A few of the men sitting at tables just beyond the stage were easy enough to read—they would shift their pelvises or lean back in their chairs, and the lumps and points in their slacks and jeans spelled out what I was doing to them. Well, maybe Star helped a little as well. 




The Birthday Girl Pt. 02



Although Kyle said he wanted to call it a night, I invited everyone up for beers to my place and Jamie and Ethan were quick to agree. I wouldn't have bothered convincing Kyle to join us if Ethan had wanted to go home. I was horny beyond belief, and would have given every dollar in my bank account just to be alone with Jamie. 

I had a couch and one standalone chair in my living room, most of it decorated with bookshelves, stacks of books, and some photos of myself and my family I had taken when I was a black-and-white photography nut. My curtains, like the upholstery of the furniture, was all violet. I had a pair of lamps in the room with matching lampshades, and they created a really great erotic mood when I turned off the overheads and left only those on. Suffice to say it had been a while since I had a need for mood lighting, and I couldn't have picked a better night to be alone with one man—but I was stuck with three.

I made the second run to the kitchen to collect us new beers, and my mind was moving in devious directions. I couldn't... could I? Jesus, what would they think of me?

Hell, what did they think of me already?

I went back to the living room and sat between Ethan and Kyle on the couch, leaning with my back against Kyle, my legs stretching over Ethan's to rest on the arm of the chair. I would have preferred to sit alone with Jamie, close enough to send him signals, but he had already chosen his chair. 

"So... who's fucking who?" I asked. 

Maybe I was a little more flirty than usual.

The guys exchanged looks with each other, all on the verge of laughter. I only rubbed my legs together a little coquettishly and clarified my question: Didn't any of them have girls they were trying to get into bed? Kyle was the first to roll his eyes, but I had to apply pressure to get an answer. 

"You know Gloria," he said. "I've wanted to... for weeks... I'm not saying it's about sex alone, I like her, you know I do..."

"You haven't even mentioned any girl's name in the entire time I've known you... 'cept for her, I mean," Jamie said. He was showing the effects of the alcohol worse than I was. Everything made him smile. 

"Well... that's probably over."

"Did you ask her to suck you off?" I asked. Both Ethan and I giggled. 

"It has nothing to do with sex, dammit," Kyle said, trying to laugh, but a little wounded. "She's a Catholic. She doesn't want to get serious with anyone who's not a Catholic."

"For real?"

"That's kind of crazy," Ethan said quietly. I patted the side of Kyle's face. 

"No... you want to know what's crazy? I was thinking about converting to be with her." I moaned out a sympathetic cry for him, but he shook his head. "My parents would have hung me up on a cross of my own if they had found that out. I wouldn't say, you know, I've given up... but I don't think it's going to happen. Gloria and me."

Eventually, when the silence started to kill the mood, Ethan confessed to us, "Danni doesn't know I'm alive."

"For real?" I didn't want to laugh, but I was actually surprised. "Two weeks ago it seemed like a sure thing. You said she was bantering with you—you had banter."

"I heard she showed you her tits," said Jamie, and we all laughed. I hadn't been told that, another gender-barrier casualty. 

"Well, I'm thinking now that was just an accident. Before I actually believed it was just supposed to look like an accident. She was... kind of just lifting these books up onto the top shelf and her shirt was snagged on her bracelets or something. It looked kind of fake."

"That's a chickenshit way to do it," I laughed. "She should at least have the guts to flash you for real."

"That's an expert speaking," said Jamie. I should have laughed it away, but instead I gave him an exaggerated sexy wink before breaking into a smile. 

Nothing was going on with Jamie either, it seemed. He smiled more than spoke on it, and when Kyle accused him of "tramping around" with two different girls he worked with, he didn't deny it. All he would volunteer was that he wasn't serious about anyone. 

"But I do have a girl I've been seeing a lot more of lately," he said, looking at me. God, was he serious? I might have been misreading him, but it seemed like he was talking about me. Probably a joke, but dry enough that we all might have missed it or misread it. 

Kyle did seem to miss it altogether, judging by his segue: "Speaking of girls we're seeing a lot more of... how about you, Felicia? Who are you seeing?"

"Nobody... unfortunately," I confessed, which had been my whole reason for bringing it up. I shifted my legs around, trying to make it look like an accident when I brushed Ethan's groin, and had my eyes on Jamie. "I'm not sure if I would be more worked up now if we had gone to a male strip joint. But that's where I'm going tomorrow night. Or if we go next weekend, I'm taking you guys along..."

"No way."

"I don't think we're doing that," laughed Kyle. 

To my surprise, Jamie shrugged. They gave him a Judas stare. "We had our fun. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we didn't let Felicia have hers?"

"I think she had her share of fun," Kyle said, rubbing my shoulder. I cursed the thin layer of cotton between his skin and mine; I was far too fired up to let three healthy single guys go home without doing me a favor. I touched Kyle's hand, hoping to communicate my mood. 

When his hand slipped away, I was inclined to believe I had. 

"You're a hell of a dancer," Jamie told me, and I gave him a disappointed smile and shook my head. 

"I'm an awful dancer. Believe me, I know it. That's the only thing making me reconsider going back there and trying for a job." They all seemed amazed, maybe even a little aghast at what I had said. "I don't know. I'm just being silly. But I did it once, right, even if I never do it again? I let everybody see... you know. Everything. It was an incredible experience."

"That's not exactly what we planned when we took you there. Believe us." I told Ethan I was glad I went, bouncing a bare heel off his thigh like a playful slap. 

I opened up to the three of them, aided by the beer and whatever lingering high swirled over me. I started at the end and went backwards, describing how electric it felt when Ethan put his hands on me—I could feel his bulge suddenly pressing against the back of my calf, and I knew it was bigger than it had been a few seconds before. I told them about the shock I felt when Star pulled my panties down—I hadn't planned that, I made sure they knew. 

"You must have been pissed."

"Well," I told Kyle, rubbing his cheek in a way I wasn't even conscious of, "She told me I would regret it if I didn't go 'all the way.' That's what she said. I'm not sure about that... but I really don't regret doing it. I got the whole experience, I guess—"

"You're not sober yet," Jamie said, and we all laughed along. 

I went on to tell them about the lapdance, even confessing that it made me hot—any argument of "intellectual curiosity" about the whole thing didn't hold up after I got squeezed between those marble walls with Star on top of me. Ethan wanted to hear every detail, but after describing it for a while, I felt like I was gushing—verbally and physically. I had turned red and was more than a little embarrassed at revealing so much of my dirty mind. 

"I never knew you wanted to fuck a girl before," said Jamie. It would have been earth-shattering to hear him say something like that most other nights, even if it had been a joke, and the way he said it, it wasn't a joke; it was a piece of information he had pried out of me. I looked at him with eyes that seemed as humbled as the rest of me. 

"I never thought I did. But you know... when I watched her grind on me, spread her legs, shake her tits, wiggle her ass... I was thinking more about dancing on her the same way. That's what I told her... that's how we ended up on stage like that."

"Would you have done it if you weren't drunk?" 

I glanced up at Kyle and gave him a grin. "Probably not. But I really loved being able to blame it on the drinks I had. It was really all me, baby..."

We all lay there quiet for a minute, looking to each other, smirking, feeling some change in the air that we wouldn't speak of. Jamie said he was getting us all another beer, but Kyle said he didn't know how much longer he would be staying. Ethan, in his best impression of an alpha male, called him a pussy. As I finished giggling, I got up and went to my room. I ignored their questions about what I was doing. 

When I came back, the three of them had new beers—and I was wearing a short black skirt, a baggy black dress shirt that used to belong to my ex, a pair of black vinyl boots that almost reached my knees, and the sultriest smile I could manage. Ethan yelped out a laugh and clapped his hands. Jamie gave me a nod of approval, but Kyle only seemed stunned. 

"You've got to tell me the truth... don't worry about hurting my feelings if it's a 'no'... but do you think I could work there?"

"Work at the... the what? The Paradise Lounge? The club?"

I rubbed my thighs together, and I could see they approved. 

"You don't think I'd make the cut?"

Jamie had an extra beer in his hand, and he brought it over to me, walking with a kind of intimidating lumber as his eyes drank me in. He pressed the cold can into my hand and made me shiver. 

"You were the absolute sexiest girl in the club... clothed or unclothed..."

"Oh-kay," Kyle said, then laughed, but nobody joined in; I wouldn't have, even if I hadn't been paralyzed by Jamie's eyes. 

"You're a smooth talker... but I don't want to hear any bullshit," I told him, looking away and hoping he wouldn't recognize how vulnerable I really was. "You didn't think that before I walked into that club."

"I always knew you were sexy," Jamie said, giving me his best smile, "but I am guilty of not acting on it before. But I'm kicking myself now."

His hand was rubbing my upper arm, making me giddy like the room had filled with helium, and in that not-quite-silence, Ethan got up and started making excuses about being tired. 

"Please don't leave," I told him, and I surprised myself. What was I planning? I wasn't sure, but I wanted an audience for it. 

Kyle had started to stand up but also sat back down when Ethan did, running a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. The other two seemed pretty game for whatever I had in mind, even smiling, but I wasn't sure about Kyle. He started on a spiel about how he was tired and had things planned for the morning, but he gave me enough chances to interrupt him that he obviously wasn't that keen to escape. 

"It's still my birthday until I go to sleep, right?" No one answered, so I led Jamie by the hand back to his chair, reluctantly letting his fingers free of mine when I turned to face the other two on the couch. "I really liked my present... it made this one of the best nights of my life. I wanted to thank you guys. And you would be doing me a favor, too... if you let me try out my lapdance fantasy."

They were quiet, each in their own way. Jamie clearly didn't see the need for any words, watching me with his devilish eyes; on the couch, Ethan looked terrified of spoiling the moment, of making me realize he was the same guy I had worked with for so long, and Kyle, well, Kyle looked caught up in some moral conflict that I probably would have joined him in, if I was thinking more clearly. 

"Felicia..."

"I don't want to hear anything that starts like that," I warned Kyle, lifting my arms, taking my hair with them, wound around my fingers, and swaying back and forth as I stared down. "You can go... if you really don't feel it. If you really don't want me to dance for you. You're my friend today—all of you are my friends tonight... you'll be my friends tomorrow. I don't see any reason to make it more complicated than that. If that's not good enough for you... I won't hold it against you if you leave."

My hips were rocking one way and then another, as lazy as a weather vane turned by very little wind, and I looked from one to the other of them, making a circle around the room. Jamie had stopped smiling, which only made my heart thump faster. Kyle couldn't bring himself to look at me, which made me feel bad, but not bad enough to stop. As for Ethan, I'm not sure I could have done anything to offend him by that point. I had seen lust in his eyes whenever I wore any shirt that showed a little cleavage or a skirt that showed a little leg, but I had never seen him with such a hard-on in his eyes. 

I flapped my skirt up at him in the back, then gave him a toothy smile, knowing he was as wrapped around my finger as any man had ever been. When I came back to Kyle again, I took a step toward him, but it only caused him to stand up. 

"Whatever you do here tonight... it's cool with me," he said, but the edge in his voice made me doubtful he meant it. "I just... I don't think I'm ready for this."

First he started toward the door, then wavered back and forth between the exit and the kitchen, almost comically, before deciding to take his beer in there to leave on the counter. Then he left with only the quickest of looks into my eyes. I felt sure I had lost a friend, and I stopped thinking about my fantasy long enough to speculate on calling him tomorrow and trying to repair the damage. 

I saw Ethan's expression again, and his desire for me brought me back to thoughts of dancing. I had missed a chance to be alone with Jamie by then, I knew, but I wasn't feeling bad about that. I had a stronger fantasy in mind. 

It might have been an amazing level of self-control, modesty, or hey, even a genuine aversion to having sex with me that sent Kyle away, but I had to wonder if it wasn't the idea of sharing me with two others guys. I said to Ethan, while turning to look at Jamie and including him, "Are you guys going to feel weird about this?" 

"No," Ethan blurted out, taking a long breath afterwards. 

"I think we're grown up enough to handle whatever happens," said Jamie. 

I went to him first, picking up the tempo of my dance, slamming my hips one way, then the other, relishing each small shake of my breasts. These ample crests had been so disturbing and foreign when they first began to develop around 14, ballooned on my chest until I felt they were nothing but unwanted distractions from the rest of me; but over the year, I not only made my peace with them, but let them become my secret pride, loving how even in a bra they would tremble with my every movement. I was amazed every day how they could capture the attention of any guy in the room, even those I really didn't want attending me, and even more shocked such men could somehow believe I didn't notice them noticing me. Letting Jamie so blatantly watch them quiver with each movement while I watched them felt incredibly lewd. I unbuttoned my dress shirt and let it fall open, leaving them a tad more unobstructed. Star had done me a real favor picking out the bra for me, a beautiful piece of lingerie that accented my size without the usual "muffining" around the sides I had come to think of as normal. 

I turned to face Ethan on the couch as I slid the shirt down my shoulders and off one arm. A footstool had been pushed away from Jamie's chair, and I hooked my booted foot on it and dragged it closer, then invited him to sit on it. When Ethan joined us, a little slower than I would have expected, I was caught between the two of them. I flitted my shirt away as I turned back to face Jamie, who had begun to regrow his grin. 

I bucked forward and backward, bending my knees with each thrust, proud of all the cardio and squats that had left my belly so toned and flat. I reached behind me as if I was going to undo my bra, but I only pulled the strap out and let it crack back, snapping my teeth with an audible noise as if it had hurt. 

I unhitched my skirt and let the two leaves part, showing the skin under the band of my thong. I made a face like it had been an accident, probably deserved to be laugh at for an expression like that, then I held my legs tightly together to let it float down to the floor. When I bent over to pick it up from the floor, I pretended to be unaware my ass was in Ethan's face. I smirked at Jamie as if it were our private joke, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to laugh anymore. He sipped his beer and nodded at me. I glanced down to see he was having his own moment as my breasts hung pendulous in my bra. I had never seen them appear so huge. 

When I looked up again, Jamie's bedroom eyes were already fucking me. I tried smiling at him, but he didn't mirror me. He was taking this seriously. I wondered if it would have been possible to call everything off, tell them I had had my fun, send them home—I would never find out since there was no way I was capping things off prematurely. If Jamie tried to leave, I might have wrestled him to the floor and forced him inside me. The only thing bothering me was the idea that he would never be solely mine if we shared our first time with Ethan in the room—but it was a reasonable worry that was slowly sinking in the mire of my arousal. 

I unfastened my bra, rising to stand erect again, and shifted my shoulders until the straps fell down my biceps. I smiled as I held the bra in place, looked back at Ethan with curls of brown hair hanging in my face, imagining the sight of my bare back was driving him even wilder than me and Jamie. 

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," he whispered, and it almost made me laugh; it might have, if I hadn't been warm all over from his compliment. 

I had teased long enough—they weren't anything they hadn't already seen. I let it fall away and I dangled the bra from my extended arms to let them soak up the vision of my bared breasts in profile. I smiled with some anxiety, my bottom lip curving inward over my teeth as I thought about all the ways they wanted to touch me, and how I was about to let them. 

I fell forward on my knees, my head lowered, my chin on my collarbone, and let my hair dangle over the crotch between Jamie's spread legs. From this position I could stare down at the well-defined bulge. It seemed criminal that they could see me and I couldn't see them. But this wasn't the club, I knew I could make up the rules as I went along, not confine myself to someone else's. I reached up and touched Jamie's thighs over his dark slacks. My fingers crept inward, dragging the material with them, but sensing the tension in his discreet muscles. My breath quickened, and I was forgetting I had just been dancing. 

A knock at the door made all three of us jump. I laughed as I looked up into Jamie's face. 

"I'll, uh... let me get it—"

"It's my place," I said, standing up and stretching out my arms, probably doing nothing more than reminding Ethan my tits were out in the open. I winked at him and then did my tick-tock walk to the door, my thighs brushing each other, hips swinging. 

Like a madwoman, I opened the door wide without even asking who it was, not that I should have expected my father or the clergy at 3:30 in the morning. Kyle stood there, one thumb hooked in the pocket of his jeans, leg kind of crooked as if he had been striking a pose, and after his eyes met mine, they fell right to my breasts. I lifted my chin in defiance of his earlier rejection, but in a way that wasn't Kyle at all, he didn't hide his staring. 

"I just... had to get a breath of air," he said. When his eyes met mine again, I felt as unarmored as anyone with a bared chest should. "Is it alright if I come in?"

"Are you sure you're okay with it?"

I didn't explain "it" and didn't give him any reason to define it, let his imagination run away with him. He didn't shrink away, but I knew he wasn't as cool with everything as he wanted to seem. Kyle licked his lips. 




The Birthday Girl Pt. 02



"If I walk away, I'd never be able to look you in the eye anyway," he said, giving me a gutted smile. "Is it alright?"

I opened the door, moving with it until my back was against the wall, then I arched it, sick me—just to make him stare. His fixed eyes couldn't tear themselves away from my sharpened nipples until his head couldn't turn back any further. He saw Ethan and Jamie still sitting in their places and wouldn't quite look them in the eyes, from what I could gather. I closed the door and walked back to them, my hand rubbing over my taut belly since I had nothing but my boots and panties left, no loose clothing or pockets to keep my fingers busy. 

I wasn't sure where to pick up. I touched Jamie's leg closest to me, finding it firm enough, and I sat on it, which allowed me to face Ethan, right in front of me, and Kyle, who had taken his old seat on the couch. As weird as it was having my co-worker right there in front of me, I think Kyle left me feeling more perverse, the guy in the back of the club who might be thinking of fucking me or stalking me. His expression was uncertain, hidden, and I was guessing he might be hating me or himself for his being here. He kept his hand bridged above his eyes like a visor, but not blocking out the sun, merely giving some shadow to his eyes like he didn't want me to see them. 

My eyes fell to Ethan's tented groin, and a slight curl appeared at the corner of my mouth. At the same time, I shivered when both of Jamie's hands covered my breasts. His first touches were fleeting, grazing, brushing my nipples or lifting the weightiest parts of my breasts, escalating to pressing them gently, but as my breath started to race, he was pulling, squashing, pinching and twisting my nipples, displaying all the delicacy of a tourist late for his plane trying to pack his stubborn suitcase. I whimpered, feeling mauled and pleasured at the same time. My legs were spread far apart, my thighs as close to a perfect right angle as I could get them, and in that moment I felt as if my thong would make a loud splash when it finally hit the ground. 

My hand ran down Jamie's chest and I felt the considerable lump in his slacks against my palm. I pressed, rocked my hand back and forth, and then defined the strengthening shape through the material with my fingers. Matching my movements, my pelvis was sliding to and fro on Jamie's thigh. I stopped breathing for a second then gasped, feeling my climax wouldn't arrive until I had more stimulation. My shaking fingers found his zipper and worked it down against my own nervous efforts to look sexy. I checked Ethan and Kyle, found their faces stone expressions of desire, then looked to the end of my shoulder, where Jamie's eyes were meeting mine. 

Inside his pants, my fingers wrestled away his briefs and it happened—my hand was touching his cock. It practically burned my skin, red hot as it flushed with blood, ridges presenting themselves to my touch, making me only wonder all the more what it looked like. I looked back to Ethan and Kyle, maybe waiting for them to protest as I pried it from Jamie's clothes. I looked down, just on the other side of my left breast, and I laid eyes on it for the first time. It was beautiful, thick and firm but somehow still getting harder, a color closer to red than white in its swollen state, curving upward slightly, aimed for the other wall and not quite the ceiling. 

My fingers wrapped around it like it was an emergency brake, but I had no intention of stopping us. I pressed back into Jamie, muttered for him to take his shirt off, and for those few seconds, I forgot Ethan and Kyle were in the room with us—until I saw them again. While Kyle hadn't moved from the couch, and watched with the same silent intensity and guilt, Ethan had shoved his hand down his pants and was treating himself. 

"Don't tell me the lapdance is over," he said in a husky breath. 

Jamie's other hand pulled back the band of my panties and let them snap back on me. I grinned from the surprise, then let him go long enough to stand up. When he reached out to help me take them off, I swatted his hand away. 

"I'd like to do it myself this time." 

With my thighs pressed together, I peeled my panties down with my thumbs by their bands, the material between my legs clinging in a way that made me blush harder. Red marks were left on my hips from the lines of my thong, all the more noticeable when I was completely exposed to them, in only my black boots and a pair of thin silver necklaces I seldom took off. The lips between my legs were nearly as red as those under my nose, and all the wetter. Even under these lights, it was obvious I was in the mood for a ravenous fucking; how did I ever do this in public? Everyone in that club must have known what I wanted. 

"Goddamn beautiful," said Ethan. I felt Jamie shake a cheek of my ass and I looked back at him with a smile. I wriggled for him a bit, thrilling at his touch. I didn't want to look at Kyle, to see his doubts. I had all of the same doubts, and if I had bothered to stop and think about it, I wouldn't have gone any further. 

"How far are we going to go here?" asked Jamie, and I felt put on the spot to have to say it out loud. 

I brushed a few locks of brown hair aside my ear. "Do you... does anyone have any condoms?" 

That left everyone in dizzying silence. I looked to Kyle, I could see him swallow hard, but he didn't do anything to make himself noticeable. As Jamie started to say something, Ethan answered. 

"I've got, I don't know... one. Maybe two."

Jamie only said quietly, "I could go to the store... if you want."

I looked at Kyle. I didn't know what brought him back, but I knew what left him so tense. If I stopped this for any reason, even ten seconds to throw cold water on my face, this all would have come to a stop. It would never get back to this, and I would feel like I'd never live it down. 

"I'd rather do it without condoms," I said, unable to recognize my own voice. I had been on the pill since a pregnancy scare at 18, but never completely trusted it with most guys. All the same, I gave my three friends a sheepish smile and told them something I had never admitted to my girlfriends: "I like the way it feels better without."

Ethan continued to fight with the lead in his pants, to the point where it almost aggravated me, and since I estimated my dance had come to its end, I lowered myself to my knees and began to assist his cock's escape. It was thick, as perfectly round as any could get, darker than Jamie's to match the shade of Ethan's skin, and circumcised, like my last boyfriend's. But I instantly liked Ethan's better. Before I had a chance to think through what I was doing, I lowered my head and had the bulbous glans between my lips; I sucked sharply, three quick vacuums between my cheeks, and Ethan squeaked in the funniest way. I raised my head again, smiling at him. I had meant to make Jamie my first of the three of them, but the moment seized me. I brought my head down again, tasting his lubricant on the cap of his cock. I'm not sure why I was blowing him, as stupid as that might sound. It was little more than a greeting to this new part of my old friend. I took him into my mouth entirely. I don't know what guys feel at that moment, but I think of it as complete vulnerability; no matter how degrading some of them might think a blowjob is, he has to realize at that moment that pain or pleasure are all mine to control. 

I sucked—hard. I had rarely given such an effort to coaxing a reaction out of a man. My first boyfriend had talked me into sucking his dick on four different occasions, but after he refused to go down on me the last time, I never bothered with him again. I carried away a resentment of oral sex, performing it at any rate, that lasted with me until I was naked in front of my three friends and pleasuring them. My previous boyfriend had helped make me more adventurous after a couple of guys who preferred to be dominant in the bedroom, but I never realized how much fun giving head could be until that night. My mouth was so wet that I couldn't tell how much of it was my saliva or Ethan's juice. I was bobbing up and down on him when I felt Jamie get down on his knees behind me. What an incredible feeling it was, his bare chest, as hairless as my own skin, pressing against my back, every indentation of his body easy for me to make out, his breath on my shoulder blade, his blazing cock resting on the back of my hip. His hands found my thighs and grasped them roughly, and I had to remove Ethan from my mouth just to exhale a shuddering breath. 

I backed off of Ethan and concentrated on pressing into Jamie. It hit me as I did so that I was touching him because I wanted it, without considering what the three of them wanted. All of my sexual life I had been preoccupied, even obsessed, with making my partner feel his best, and it was a radical concept I was awaking to that I would be in this for my pleasure. Jamie's dick rode at the top of my ass, some of his girth sunk in the cheeks, and I rubbed against him as the most perverse thoughts came into my head. I wanted him inside me, stretching me, whether it was my mouth, my pussy, or my ass, but at the same time I was reluctant to start anything more serious out of fear it would end too soon. I could have stayed there all night with his body pressed to mine, if allowed. 

Jamie didn't let me. He rose to his feet, urging me with him, and when I stood I turned and pressed my breasts into his chest, delighting at the feel. I could make out the shape of his own erect nipples, somewhere within my mountains of flesh; I grinned up at him, dizzy with my own lust. He whirled me around as if we were slow-dancing, but dropped me into the chair where he had sat. I saw Ethan stand up, finishing taking off his clothes. 

Kyle continued to sit in the corner, nothing more than an observer to our hedonism. 

The hands on my knees levered apart my thighs, moving them wide, past Playboy and into Hustler territory. I smiled with peaking embarrassment as all three sets of eyes found the same hidden flesh. I looked up to Jamie wearing a smirk. 

"Your fans want to see everything," he said in a breathy whisper. "Will you spread your pussy for us, Butterfly?"

The vulgarity of my nickname only struck me then, but I couldn't stop smiling, even as I felt irretrievably close to an orgasm. This Jamie was the one from my wettest dreams, not the same guy who backed his car into mine while high on pot and trying to leave my apartment one Saturday night, not the same guy who shared all those lame Geico memes on Facebook; this was the man I fantasized about filling me with his cum. 

My fingers slid down the "V" between my thighs and found my sensitive, puffy lips, then parted them for these witnesses. 

"Hold it there," said Jamie, dropping to one knee as if about to propose, his eyes latching onto me. His fingers rubbed across me, his thumb planting itself just aside my clit. His mouth moved in, his breath coming out to meet me first. 

Three times his tongue lapped at me, enflaming my susceptible parts, then he dove in and I went tight all over as if my whole body had a charley horse. 

"Unh... fuck... oh, fuck..." I squealed. I heard someone laugh. I would have to make sure I took some revenge for that later. 

His tongue slithered between my lips, swatting back and forth as if it were a serpent trying to find a comfortable place to nest, then he popped in and out of me to drive me crazier. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my pelvis into his face while my back seemed to want to retreat into the chair. I was hearing sounds come out of my mouth, high- and low-pitched alike, that I wouldn't have recognized as mine. Jamie's tongue tagged my clit directly for the first time, not a brush but a surgical hit, and I boxed one of his delicious cheekbones as I jerked my right leg up in surprise; I laughed apologetically, but he wasn't dissuaded from his work. I looked past him for the first time in minutes and saw Kyle, no longer perfectly still but rubbing himself only through his jeans, but I found myself more distracted by Ethan. 

My co-worker at Top Shelf had lent me a digital video camera last weekend for my birthday night out with the girls and he must have found it sitting by my computer—it was turned on, in his left hand, the red light recording my undisguised arousal as Jamie fed on my naked body. The two of us stared at each other, dark brown eyes glaring at his Cyclops camera eye. 

"That's for me... and only me," I warned him, and I saw him give a nod in reply. This was crazy, I knew, even if the camera never left the house—but I had discovered how much I liked being watched, and my certainty in that discovery made me more than a little curious to see myself. This night might be better off forgotten, I knew, and if it was, I at least wanted a chance to relive it once before deleting the file. 

I thrust myself at Jamie's face a few more times, making embarrassing cooing sounds—I've always been a vocal lover, my boyfriends except for Brent all making me feel ridiculous for it, but when Jamie's hands squeezed my legs tighter, I didn't feel ashamed of them. I grunted a couple of times, feeling my skin on fire, and I warned him I was about to cum. I tried to push him away, but he ground his lips and chin harder into me, digging his tongue upward toward my G-spot, and I yelped, then moaned like a trombone hitting a long note, and he was smeared with my discharge. My shaky fingers brushed the hair back from his forehead as he kept on, wishing he could give me a moment to just breathe. 

Ethan knelt aside the chair and massaged one tit while his mouth kissed my shoulder as I came back down, his camera hovering just above his shoulder as his hand guided it toward my face. I tensed all over again while Jamie blew a cool breath on my damp pussy. Then he climbed up over my body, his face an inch from mine, and I could see droplets of my moisture on his lips. He was waiting for me to refuse him. I hadn't considered how intimate this really was until his face and mine were so close. 

I stretched out my tongue, dabbing up the drops, then I bent my head, leaned in, and kissed Jamie for the first time. My tongue, feeling cracked and dry from all the breaths rushing over it, met his, slimy and soaked from its adventures south of my navel. I glanced toward the camera and looked away, flushing a deeper red. 

Jamie's hand was between us, his fingers molding to my pussy, refusing to let it contract again, keeping the door open. 

"Should I?"

"God, I'll kill you if you don't," I told him, smiling weakly. 

Against my own wishes, Ethan found a pocket where the light poured in and snuck his camera closer to watch as Jamie arranged himself, his genitals making first contact with mine. The underside of his fat prick lay on my mound, scraped by the faintest of stubble that had grown back in since my last shave; the ridiculous thought came to me that Ethan's camera would probably be able to pick it up in that 720p that he boasted about. I smiled, giggled, but then shook my head when Jamie checked if I was alright. I reached down and took his cock like I had the right, backed him away, kissed it with my slick nether lips as I ran it up and down their length, then let him part me a little further with his fingers as I swallowed him up. That wide hammer on the end seemed preposterously bigger when I felt him open me, then it cleaved deeper, making me suck in three breaths to calm myself, and I writhed under him until I felt I had adjusted. He wasn't abnormally big, at least the shaft itself wasn't, but the end of it seemed like a part borrowed from a different animal. 

When he began to pump in and out, I croaked out in a broken voice and laughed at my own pleasure. I was a bundle of fried nerves all of a sudden, lightning shooting to every part of my body, and it was only made more intense thinking about the fact this was Jamie. He and I were together, just as I had always pictured it—except for the witnesses and the movie we were suddenly making. 

"Goddamn, you're so... fuck! Fuck, it's... aw, shit..." 

If I had hoped for more poetic words, I wasn't getting them at that moment. He drew back out of me and I was instantly aware from the warmth and wetness that he had cum inside me. I looked down and found it leaking out. I don't think we had made three minutes yet, nothing I hadn't experienced before, certainly not the worst, but I could tell he was embarrassed. 

"Shit, that wasn't... sorry," he said, laughing at himself. I stroked the side of his face. "Nah... I've done better, you know."

"That's fine," I told him, and I meant it. He would have to crumble a lot more in my eyes before I lost my crush on him. 

"I've been staring at you all goddamned night," he said, giving me another compromised smile. "I'm lucky I made it home from the bar without bursting."

He pushed Ethan's camera back to me, gently, but obviously none too pleased with being recorded right then. I pushed to edge of the chair, ignoring the semen staining the upholstery—that would need a little club soda later—and I took his drifting cock in my hand, pumping it a few more times. 

"If you don't mind sharing me... I've got a couple more friends to entertain," I said quietly to him. "But I want to meet you back here in a few minutes for the rematch."

After kissing Jamie a last time and standing up, I was a little lost for what I should do. His climax was leaking down my thighs, and I had a feeling it wasn't too inviting for Kyle or Ethan, but I had no intention of leaving them on the sidelines. I went into the kitchen, Ethan trailing after me with the goddamned camera, which I did kind of like even if I wouldn't cop to it, and I wet a dish towel. I began to clean myself, sinking the towel on my fingers into my pussy and doing the best job I could without a shower or bath. I looked back at Ethan and shook my head, smirking. 

"I hope this is good enough... I guess I can excuse myself to the bathroom if you're grossed out—"

"Jesus, Felicia, you have to know I would stick my dick into a thorn bush if you were on the other side of it." 

It was a compliment that seemed sweet at the moment, undoubtedly crass on any other day of our relationship. I could hear over the running water Jamie and Kyle talking in hushed voices out in the living room. My paranoia told me they were saying horrible things about me behind my back, laughing with each other at what a slut I was, lining up all the friends they would brag about this to, pass my name and reputation around as they were about to pass around my body. Some part of me didn't care. This was for me more than them, satisfying some fantasies I had never let come to the light. But I also didn't want to believe that of my friends, that they would be two-faced archetypal alpha male bastards—and I wasn't ready to believe it. They were just as likely talking about how they had dreamed of this, how beautiful my body was, and Jamie was bragging about how he had never been reduced to a bursting orgasm so quickly by any other woman. 

I stepped back out into the living room, squeezing the soaked towel against my body until rivulets of cold water ran over my steely nipples. Ethan continued to walk behind me, recording me for his fake documentary, and I gave Jamie another comforting wink on my way to Kyle. My reluctant friend took his hands off the lump in his pants as if I hadn't seen him the whole time. As if I wasn't the one standing entirely nude in front of him. 

"Are you joining us? ...Or just here to watch?"

"I don't, uh..." He didn't finish his answer, staring at my breasts until he had me staring at them, too. The first time I had taken my clothes off for a boyfriend, I had actually been humiliated for someone else to see how big they were. I always doubted liked them, they felt like sex toys for some partner, and at that age, I never wanted to embrace my sexuality. In that moment, Saturday rolling into Sunday morning, I was proud to have these perfect, bounteous, overflowing, yes, huge tits... for my pleasure as much as theirs. 




The Birthday Girl Pt. 02



I dropped to my knees, pressing so close to Kyle that I made him forget he had any objections; I rested my breasts on his thighs, pressing my face into his chest as my hands lifted the hem of his shirt. As wonderful as cocks are, and I'm a huge fan, I have a special fascination with men's chests, hairy, smooth, cut and toned, broad and full, thin and boney, I love them all. Kyle's, I soon found, was hairy and not quite ripped, but not disappointing. My face kept close to it as I dropped his shirt over me like a hood, making us both giggle. I kissed, I licked, I chewed, moving at a rhythm that was fucking of its own, feeling his hands massage my neck. 

I nearly tore my way out Kyle's shirt when I felt Ethan start to finger me from behind. I took my head out and looked back at him. He picked up the wet rag from the floor and he continued cleaning me up where I had left off, though most likely any trace of Jamie had been erased by that time. Ethan slapped my ass with his dick, but then he stooped to kiss my back, maybe feeling conspicuous with the way I looked at him. My moment with Jamie had been almost private, as private as being in a room with two other men could be, so I realized right then I was alright with continuing this as a real threesome. 

I had Kyle's shirt over his head and was working on unbuttoning his slacks when I felt Ethan's erection slipping into me. My breath stopped momentarily, then I accommodated him. He wasn't Jamie, true, but I couldn't claim to be disappointed. I could tell Kyle wasn't as comfortable with Ethan being inside me while we were so close, but he continued to rub my bare skin with his hands, trying to soldier on and satisfy himself. I pointed my face toward him until he recognized my intention and he leaned down, tried to kiss me. Ethan was knocking me forward every second, making both Kyle and me laugh, though his seemed more frustrated. His solution was brilliant: Kyle wrapped both arms around me, pressing his body closer to mine, and he held my head as if in a vise while he kissed it. Once wasn't enough for him, and as Ethan pumped me from behind, robbing me of every good breath I strained for, Kyle kissed me again, deeply, his tongue clashing with mine, until the lack of oxygen made me dizzy. 

Then, the real clincher, Kyle swept the hair away from the side of my face and bowed to thrust his tongue into my ear. It was first time a guy had ever done that, and I don't mean a swipe against the lobes, but trying to tap my eardrum with the penetration—and I discovered in that second a secret button I had. I shook all over, my body tightening, thighs wobbling as I nearly fell, and Ethan had to keep my suspended with his hands and cock. It was as if my orgasm had flipped me over and pinned me to the mat, taking me down with lightning speed. I had never gone from zero to cumming so fast in my life. But giving credit where it's due, I'm sure Ethan riding my G-spot from behind had its role to play. I coughed and laughed as Kyle stroked the skin of my cheek and temple. 

"You make the most wonderful noises," Ethan told me. I could barely recognize him, out of breath and raspy, sounding more like an athlete than the bookworm I always found so cute and non-threatening. As I was still recovering from my surprise cum, Ethan was densely ignoring that I wasn't enjoying his feverish pumping as much as before. He had picked up speed, seemed to be digging deeper with an awkward new angle, and it would have felt wonderful if I wasn't in the midst of falling apart and needing a breather. 

"Christ, Ethan... back off a bit..." 

No one could say my friends didn't keep it interesting. My dream fuck had delivered his payload a little too soon, then geeky Ethan was here trying to drill until he struck oil. I didn't want to make him feel bad, reached back and took his hand, stroking my thumb against it, but I did need a few seconds to recover. I turned around, ignoring the awkward position in which I found myself, and butted the back of my head against Kyle's furious bulge. I smiled at Ethan and he seemed to feel a little less wounded. 

"Just a few seconds here," I said, breath starting to slow at last. "There's only one of me... two of you."

"You should call some reinforcement pussy," Jamie said from his spot on the carpet, lying on his back, his hard-on having returned during his break. I laughed, but Ethan and Kyle were both more distracted. The way Kyle's fingers kept stroking my skin made me begin to glean this was perhaps more important to him than the rest of us. 

Ethan went to the kitchen for another round of beers. He brought them back and I definitely welcomed the recharge, though not necessarily the alcohol. I was worn out, tired, frayed, but the one thing I didn't feel was guilty. I didn't want this night to end yet because I had a feeling I might never see anything like it again. These three friends cared about me, I trusted that, and I had the feeling that when I woke up tomorrow, I would not be regretting that I had fucked Jamie and Ethan, but that I hadn't fucked Kyle, and for that matter hadn't made the other two feel their best yet. I sipped my beer and got up to go to the bathroom. I washed up with water from the sink a bit, my mind wandering down devious trails. I found my finger applying pressure to the button between the cheeks of my ass, and I wondered if they would be willing to follow me down such a wild path. 

I returned with a bottle of lubricant in my hand. I was somewhat chagrinned to see Ethan holding his camera again, recording me in all my nude glory. I stooped by Jamie, falling down to lie beside him as if we were in bed together, sensing even from the distance between us that Kyle was bothered I hadn't come back to him. 

I kissed Jamie on the lips again, and he gave me one in return. My hand reached down and found his cock, not just playing with it for my own amusement, but measuring its stiffness. I thought it might be able to handle what I had in mind. 

"Have you ever... ever... played with a girl's ass?"

He glanced my way, smiling too wide for my tastes, then asked, "Who are you and what have you done with my Butterfly?" I told him I was serious. "I've, you know... I've done some crazy things."

"Have you ever stuck it in her ass?"

After a moment, during which Jamie was probably torn between pride and honesty, he shook his head and said he never had a girl who wanted to do that. 

"I've never done it," I confessed—which wasn't as soul-baring as my next admission: "I want you to be the first to do that with me."

The way Kyle's fingers scratched against his belly and he wouldn't look at me, I worried that he was about to go home for the night. When he looked back, I knew he wasn't ready to quit yet. 

As I played with Jamie's resurrected dick—and Ethan pulled at his own—I shoved the bottle of lube from the bathroom into Jamie's hand. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for an answer. 

"Are you sure you're up for that?"

"I think I can handle it," I said, restraining myself from taking a shot at his inflated sense of size—what a mood-killer that would be. More seriously, I told him, "I don't know what you guys will think of this... but I've never... of course... I've never had... you know. Three. At once." 

There was a dreadful silence, I hated every second of it, then Jamie said, "You mean birthday parties?"

We all cracked up—well, everyone except maybe Kyle, who was still unreadable. 

"Three cocks," I corrected, knowing I didn't need to say it, but feeling happy that I did. "Yes, I'm a slut. A crazy, depraved slut. I've got three cocks in the room and... hey, I want to use them all. Is that...?"

"You're not a slut, Butterfly," Jamie said, leaning in to kiss me. "At least not the bad kind. I would be very happy to be one of your dicks."

I looked away from him, happy, but equally embarrassed. His fingers pinched my ass as I got up. When I glanced to Ethan, he nodded along, ready for anything I would throw at him—there was another disturbing thought. I moved closer toward Kyle, who still seemed to be almost pouting, but his eyes met mine and I could see he wasn't going to refuse me. 

"I guess you need me. Just to fill out number three..."

"Are you kidding, sweetie?" I rubbed two fingers between my raw labia and gave him a smile. "I saved you the tried-and-true position... if you're willing."

Kyle stood up, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and then started to undress. I felt astoundingly pleased and excited, as if I had won a perverse lottery. Caroline, Micki, and my guy friends knew enough about me to understand the stripper fantasy, even if I continued to deny it—none of them had ever heard me speak of being fucked my three men because it was something I never dreamed of saying out loud... until that night. 

Kyle half-turned from me and started to undo his jeans. He took his pants down, and when he leaned over, I could see that his belly was a little rounder than Jamie's or Ethan's. Funny enough, I wouldn't have thought anything about it if he had kept facing me, but I suspected he was self-conscious about it. I shifted as I watched him, putting my weight on one leg, crooking my left to allow my shin to caress my other calf. Jamie was standing behind me and pinched my ass, which made me elbow him and offer a devious smile. When Kyle finished taking his boxers off—letting me lay eyes on his round, rather-pale-but-cute ass—he sucked in his stomach before turning to face me. What he might have lacked in a toned physique he made up for with a serious dick, stout, veiny, sharp pink, standing up like a giant hitchhiking thumb. My mouth hung open as I stared at it, and when my eyes finally tore away to look up at Kyle, I think he had forgotten entirely about how the rest of his body compared. 

"Oh, Jesus, yes," I said, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Kyle... wow. Thanks for playing."

He looked away, snickered, and then brushed the hair off his forehead. I went to him, breaking away from Jamie's attempts to grind against my backside, then led Kyle by both hands to the middle of the floor. I purposely didn't look at Ethan documenting us with the video camera because I was very worried Kyle would be reminded and change his mind about all of this. 

"Can I kiss it?"

"Fuck, Felicia... you can put it in your purse and take it to work with you... if that's what you want," he said. Off to my right, Ethan laughed. 

I descended to my knees again and opened my mouth wide, tongue out, making a show mostly for Kyle's sake, but perhaps the camera inspired some of my theatrics. I dabbed the tip with my tongue, right over the modest slit across the tip, touched it twice more, then leaned forward to let it venture into my open mouth—teasing a little by making sure I didn't quite touch it. On the third time I bobbed forward to do the same, the wetness of my mouth collapsed down on him like a sprung trap, sucking as if seeking to draw blood, and Kyle groaned and huffed out a trembling breath. 

"Shit, Felicia... oh, god... that's... stop, stop..."

When I backed away, he smiled at me. I wasn't sure he really meant for me to stop. But it was smarter not to put too much pressure on him after the earlier-than-ideal orgasm I had culled from Jamie. I patted the floor behind me until Kyle sat down there. Lying in the middle of the room on my fair brown carpet brought him more attention than he wanted, I could tell, but he was anxious to please. I leaned over him, letting one of my breasts dangle in his face until Kyle licked at it, kissed it with his lips, and took my nipple into his mouth. I gave him a few seconds to act out his own fantasies on me—while I had never considered Kyle dating material, I knew enough about his tastes that every time I went out with him I could guess which of my tops would be the most to his liking. Jamie liked my tits as well, but nobody ogled them like Kyle. I turned my head and exhaled a quivering breath as I found some pleasure in his lapping. 

I pulled away, leaving him on his back, but not leaving him overexposed for too long. I lifted a leg and slowly swung it over him, allowing him a lingering view at the intimate sight between my legs. I smiled down at him, but I couldn't tell if he noticed. I trapped his cock against his abdomen and belly, allowing my full weight to fall against him, the wetness of my pussy drenching his bare skin. I moved my pelvis back and forth, from side to side, then in circles, enhancing the sensations for both of us until he gasped and his erection twitched. It seemed like it was fighting to get up—and I wouldn't deny it. 

With a final look up at the camera, feeling as mortified to be recorded as I was agitated, I took Kyle's cock in both hands, pulling it back like a switch, rocking it forward again and repeating, until on the third time I did so, I lifted myself to catch the swollen head of his member deep enough between my flushed lips that it didn't snap away. I removed my hands and hovered there, balanced on my strained thighs. 

"Fuck, fuck! Oh... Jesus... god, it's good. It's so good, Felicia..."

"Yeah," I whispered, feeling him pushing against me and fearing in the slightest way how he was about to open me. I glided down slowly, both of us whimpering at the feeling, started to retract, then thrust with my thighs and pelvis until he was fully sheathed in me. I drew a deep breath and exhaled with some satisfaction. I couldn't stand to have the camera on me at that moment, scolding myself for not taking it away from Ethan earlier when I looked up to it again. But my regret didn't last; the more I accustomed myself to Kyle's size, the happier I was to have all of this preserved. Not for them, not for anyone else, but for me alone. 

I edged forward, trying to let him recover as much as I needed to, but also remembering my purpose for being on the floor as we were. I looked back at Jamie, stroking himself in a way that would have absorbed all of my attention at any other time, fist riding up and down his slick length as if rolling dice he wasn't ready to launch. 

"Ready—"

"Not yet," I murmured, shaking my head, feeling the sweat on my forehead growing deeper. I leaned forward, stretching my lithe body as I climbed Kyle's erection, then slid back down. He tensed, as did I, but when he didn't erupt inside me, I believed he was in better control than before. I dipped, dangled my hair on either side of his face, and when I stuck my tongue out to tease his lips, his face rose enough to catch it in his mouth. He kissed me, as meaningful a kiss as I'd ever had, enough to embarrass me. 

Fuck, I thought, recognizing somewhere in the back of my mind Kyle's crush on me was more severe than I had ever realized. I was getting scared he was going to tell me he loved me, right here, right in front of everyone, right on video. It became such a palpable fear that when he next opened his mouth, I moaned out loud—I didn't have to exaggerate my enjoyment much—just to drown out the words I feared were coming. 

I was brought back to the world outside my mind when the chill on my naked back and ass turned to warmth, crowded by another body, and I felt Jamie pressing up against me. I had made him wait long enough. One hand cupped a cheek of my ass lovingly—I had never before found it so fascinating that different men fixated on every different part of me—and then I felt his wet cock burrowing up between my cheeks, not angled to pierce, but nuzzling against my sensitive skin. I had never experienced a sensation like that, and I found I was loving it. 

"Jesus, Jamie, would you mind...?" Kyle's half-panicked plea broke off as I continued to hump him, extracting and then sinking his cock into me again. It only occurred to me then that Jamie's prick might be making unwanted contact with my immediate lover, and I laughed out loud, the funniest thing I had thought of that night. Kyle didn't look any more amused by it, but I heard Jamie chuckle with his familiar baritone. 

"Don't be so sensitive, Kyle... it's a pretty small body to share with your friends..." I smiled down at him, feeling a drop of sweat roll from my forehead to my chin. 

As Jamie worked his cock around my wiggling ass, I felt his cold, oily hand grasp my cheeks and then coat the inside of my split; it made me shiver, my skin goose-pimpling at the change in temperature, and then he rubbed at my asshole with his middle finger. Oh god, that was a sensation I wasn't prepared to feel, even if I had asked for it. I stopped moving on Kyle, heard him swallow and exhale nervously, but I could only truly focus on Jamie's finger worming its way into me. 

"Wait... oh, shit... don't..."

My hesitations didn't stop him, and I felt him open me in a new way. I had been touched there before my Brent, even invaded, but I could never admit to him how much I liked it, so after I froze up on him the first couple of times, he stopped doing it. I had always wished I had told him I loved it, even as anxious as it made me feel. 

"I'm going to do this Felicia," Jamie whispered in my ear. The end of his cock dragged across my ass, and my breath nearly stopped. 

"What are... what are you going to... to do?"

The head was between my cheeks now, and my muscles felt like a hundred wires inside me had all restricted at once. My horrified mind was telling me to stop him, to flee from what I had asked him to do, and I opened my mouth, not quite finding the will to say it. 

"I'm going to fuck you in your ass, honey," said Jamie, and I felt myself turn to jelly inside. 

His finger was out, his cock was right there, desperate to take its place. I stared down into Kyle's face, feeling like a whore, red-faced, hot all over, wishing he couldn't see me. I would never live this down with him. Jamie's thumb worked at my aperture as it gave way a little, then I felt a round, spongy globe begin to press into me. I shook my head, hairs sticking to my face as sweat rolled down, and I involuntarily tightened. 

"Goddamn, Butterfly... you've got to let me in," huffed Jamie, sounding as tired and stressed as I was. "It'll be good... I swear..."

I didn't loosen enough to let him move for several seconds, seeking some high-minded meditative focus I couldn't find before I finally concentrated and let my muscles sag a little. Still, when he continued pushing in again, I tightened in the same way, then had to relax all over again. Oh, it hurt. I had somehow made myself believe it wouldn't, saw too many dirty movies or heard too many stories told that I believed it would feel the same as the sex I was familiar with. I was teary-eyed, gasping for air, and as what I believed was Jamie's full length was stuffed inside me from behind, I made a croaking moan like a child with a badly scraped knee, a pitiful sound I wished hadn't come from me. 

"It's alright, doll... it's alright," Jamie said with a shaking breath as he clutched my body with his arms. He twitched as he moved inside me, I couldn't really tell if he was trying to withdraw or plunge deeper. He kissed my back.

I don't know what happened, if Jamie had not given me enough lubrication or if it just had to hurt that much to start us, but as I exhaled and adjusted to the feeling, I felt myself opening enough that it wasn't the nightmare it had first seemed. I even smiled when Kyle slowly began to thrust into me again. It might have made for a comedy, how fast my regrets turned around. He was making me feel good, sending small ripples through my body with his movements that in turn made even Jamie's dick in my ass feel kind of sexy. Yes... I was starting to tolerate it. Then to like it. 

"Is that...?"

"Stay right there," I told Jamie, worried he was about to suggest we part again. His chin was pressing into the muscle under my shoulder blade like an elbow in a merciless massage, but when his tongue swam out of his mouth and wet my skin, I tingled, and I put my focus there. "It's good. It's getting good..."