The Fifty-Cal Gal Ch. 02

The morning after, I awoke to the sight of Lashona's beautiful slumbering face. The sun's rays shine gently upon her gorgeous visage. It was like God himself pointed a spot-light upon her. I wouldn't blame the guy. She's just as, if not more, divine.

At first, I didn't recognize the room our lazing bodies tossed and turned within during the night. I reluctantly rolled away from her grasp and onto my back before sitting straight up. My eyes gazed about the four walls of the changing room. Eventually, my memory serves me and I recall where I am. The Smoking Barrel, where Lashona held her strip show.

I was so anxious and nerve-racked the night before that I had not even perceived the rest of the room. My eyes were set only upon my lover and maybe the couch we engaged upon. Posters, photos of her and even a few fire-arms of varying antiquity were affixed to wooden plaques and hung upon the walls. It felt quite homely for a changing room. I turned around to view more of the place, but stopped once I saw Lashona shuffle onto her backside.

She must be having a lovely dream, because her dusky mammoth schlong was completely stiff as it slid out from the cover of the blanket. All eight and a half delicious inches pointing straight upwards and twitching ever so slightly.

I glow red at the sight. I'll never get over how stupendously huge and bewitching her body is. The thought that such a thing invaded me causing my heart to skip beats every so often. Without thinking, I crawl towards her and hover my face over her crotch. I didn't even consider if this thing would actually fit in my mouth. But I didn't care. I planted a kiss on her urethral slit, then slashed it slowly with my tongue seconds after.

My tongue dove and dodged upon her, trailing along every contour. I slathered her glands in my saliva and coated her testicles in spit. I left no inch unsullied. My lips and taster wrapped around the side of her vast shaft, and my hands held her pulsating toy in place as I cradled her sack within my mouth.

But all that was simply a warm up.

I finally gathered the courage to face her penis head on, and stuff the thing into my throat. I did so hesitantly at first. My mouth opened and relaxed. I obscured her glossy tip with little issue, but the rest of her wasn't so easy.

As I bobbed down further, my lips puckered forward. I struggled to gobbled down her meat, but I persevered. I wanted to please her in any way I could. I groaned and whimpered, feeling the slight strain of my jaw and the resistance of my gag reflex. Each time I retreated, a wet loud plop echoed within the room. Occasionally, I drew off completely only to catch my breath and drool upon her shaft in hopes that would make the process easier. Once more, I took her into my mouth at a snails pace. My tongue dragged along her veins while contracting and wiping the underside of her drenched erection.

By some miracle, or by the grace of God himself, I managed to hide her entire shaft inside my mouth. I could feel the hot, throbbing presence in my throat. What came with that was an overwhelming sense of achievement. As well as a a sudden startling burst of semen that rocketed down my throat and a pair of clenching hands gripping my hair.

As soon as the weight upon my head lifted, I retreated and gasped for air. Spit and cum cascaded from my lips. As I didn't seem to get the message, I immediately returned to tending to Lashona's prick. I didn't want a single drop of cum to go to waste, so I accepted every squirt of seed from her engorged member. I only left her cock with a plop once I could no longer detect the gushing of sperm past my lips.

With both holes filled with her cum, I was now completely and utterly hers. I thought that I may be obsessed. But I didn't give a single fuck. In fact, I wanted to be obsessed. If she turned out to be some sort of ancient succubus demon, I would go ass first into hell with her and not think twice.

"Haa... hahaha... having breakfast without me, huh Traci." She chuckled, patting my head as I still nursed her cock with my lips.

We spent the next few minutes, or maybe half hour, fucking before either of us even left the bed. After leaving a mess inside my backside, she rose from the couch and sifted through her wardrobe. I just lied there, reveling in the ecstasy of what my mouth and ass just went through. Eventually, I fell out of my rapturous daze and glared at a nearby clock.

It said 10:30 am.

I felt a cold sweat. The body's way of saying 'oh, fuck'.

I stumbled out of bed, and panicked to grab my clothes. Even the silky pink panties that once belonged to Brenda.

Lashona noticed me and looked on with her usual cool demeanor, but with an added tinge of surprise. "You alright? What's the rush for?" She asked me calmly. She had since equipped a rather modest silk dress that fell just past her knees, along with a cream-white key-hole sweater.

"I'm late for my shift! Hours late! Damn it!" I scramble about, shoving my trashed phone and plain leather wallet into my hand bag. I was just about to put my pants on when Lashona cupped my butt in her palms. I feel her bulge through the fabric of her dress bless my asscheeks.

"M-miss Lashona, I can't... I want to so bad! But I gotta-!" She cuts me off by wrapping her arms over my shoulders and sliding off my jacket.

"Why don't you work with me?"

I stand there, ass exposed and cushioning her penis, pants half-way equipped. I don't think a single word other than yes tumbled through my brain in the moments following. In fact, I said "Y-yes!" without hesitation.

"I mean, really? Would you hire me?" I inquired, my hands now upon hers and interlocked with her fingers. My jeans fell off me and circled my ankles.

"Of course. That is, if you don't mind becoming a stripper. We could be a double act. It'll be so much more fun than working at a hotel, don't you think?"

I really couldn't think of a reason to say no. I thought of countless reasons to say yes.

"I would love to, Lashona! I'd love to dance with you!" I elatedly yelled while turning around. The jeans at my feet caused me to trip as I twisted my stance within them and I fall backwards onto the couch with a grunt. Lashona chuckled before sauntering over to my side and propping up my head onto her soft thigh.

"We'll have to work on that clumsiness, though."

In the days that followed, Lashona taught me all there was to know about this event's routines. Her moves, her demeanor, her flavor, her technique. Everything. From on hours to off. Live shows to practice dances, I watched her. Every time she dances I am reminded of her beauty and her radiance. Many times I would simply loose myself in her body, my eyes darting more towards her curves and assets rather than her moves. She would often scold me for that. But she never gave up on me.

"Hmm... you're still stumbling, Traci. You're either landing too early or too late." Her voice was serious, but still calm and melodic. I just couldn't get this last move down. I didn't foresee this amount of difficulty. I tried time and time again, but no matter how hard I try, I just can't pin it down. "It needs to be a graceful, exact landing." She tells me. I lay against the pole, mapping out the moves in my mind as the staff go about their business.

The bartender from the other night, who I've since come to know is named Noah, is behind the bar Lashona sits at. He's actually wearing clothes this time, although since the club is closed right now, that's not surprising.

"Keep practicing, Traci. You'll learn it." He assures me. Lashona nods in agreement. "Failure is the staying down, not the falling down." She offers before gingerly downing a martini.

I clench my fists. I grab the pole and practice. I fall on my ass again. The lowered volume of the radio mocks me through the speakers. I get back up and try again. Some of the other dancers crowd around, offering tips that helped them out. A busty woman with 80's looking ginger hair says something about 'becoming the wind' in a Scottish accent. Another dancer, an Asian with long raven hair, remarks about 'a predator circling the prey.'

I try to arrange these pieces in a way that fits the puzzle. I stand there, leaning against the pole. I ponder for some time before a man walks in through the front door. The bouncers tail him closely like body guards. "We're opening in an hour, people. Hit the deck, man your stations, chop chop! This Halloween night is gonna be big." His foppish and energetic demeanor causes his short side-flick hair to twirl about. "Lashona, babe. Is this kid on for tonight? Need to know pronto, love." He addresses my queen Lashona in a speedy and completely over the top British accent. Sounds fake to me.

Lashona closes her eyes softly, and turns to me. Her blue eyes stare me down. I know what she's going to ask.

"I'm on for tonight. I can dance with you, Lashona." I proudly proclaim.

She nods, turning to the cockney man and shrugging. "You heard him. Put him on the showings board." The man orders to his bouncers. They bobble their shiny bald craniums before heading out the door.

An hour passes, and the Smoking Barrel opens. The Asian stripper's show has started, and she's busy spinning and twirling expertly around that pole. Fittingly enough, she was sporting a very liberal interpretation of a kimono and dancing a routine that at least somewhat resembled traditional Japanese dances.

I stood there, back stage, peeking at her show through a high definition camera feed. As for me, I was clad in your typical bunny suit, barring the cut out at the crotch that blatantly revealed the bulge cradled in my g-string. Red silk body piece with dark net stockings. A cotton ball for a tail and a head band sporting tall ear-like pieces of silk-covered plastic-polymer.

It went along with Lashona's costume, which was an incredibly skimpy outdoorsman. A hunter's vest as the only top. An ammo belt draped over her hips, and fishnet stockings. We were Lashona and Traci. The hunter and the prey respectively. I didn't mind the position at all.

What I was worried about was my performance.

They called out for the Scottish girl's act. She came strolling out the curtains proudly, dressed up as a barbarian. She waved a huge and hopefully fake battle axe around. She rubbed her naughty bits all along the shaft of the faux-weapon, and even used it to spin around on the main pole. I was amazed at how she managed not to send it flying into the boisterous crowd, or how it managed not to send her flying.

I rubbed my forearm, the anxiety getting to me. Lashona noticed and pulled me close. A kiss from her lips was planted on my forehead. "If you don't want to dance, you don't have to." She told me. I knew she was trying to reassure or console me, but part of me felt she was trying to convince me to bow out and save the establishment the embarrassment. The daggers of shame and embarrassment prodded my insides.

"N-no, I'm dancing with you." I stammer. "I want to be out there with you...! I...!"

Before I could say another word, we were called to the stage. Lashona held out her hand to me as she prepared to throw open the stage curtains.

"Will you dance with me?" Lashona inquired.

"Yes. I will!"

We stepped out upon the stage. The speakers blared our names.

"LASHONA, THE HUNTRESS. TRACI, THE HUNTED."

The crowd cheered. Drinks were spilled. Men and women raised their hands up and chanted our names.

The minutes that passed somehow felt like painful eternity, but also speeding elation.

Lashona took the lead, strolling about the stage with her fake hunting rifle. The barrel of the gun pressed up against her nipples.

I did my part, and turned away.

I shook my backside, and caused it along with the little cotton tail to jiggle. I glided my hands all over my plump pale body. I was a sideshow for now. Supplementing Lashona's expert twirls, spins and rotations upon the pole.

The upbeat and somewhat country-esque funk music followed our steps. And when the singer said 'bang' in her song, it was the signal for me to take the helm.

"BANG."

Lashona 'shot' me with the 'rifle'. I clutched my chest and pretended to stagger backwards onto the pole, where I slid up and down upon it. I rested the back of my hand upon my head, as if I were about to faint. The iron pole fell in betwixt my cheeks, jammed in between my soft uncovered buns. Lashona strutted on by and cupped them. She groped them. Squeezed them! The way she manhandled my backside kick started my erection, and it managed to peek from out of my utterly minuscule knickers. The crowd burst into rejoice and whistles that rivaled the music in sheer volume.

It was the moment of truth. I spun around, leaning upon the pole, still pretending to be the skimpiest, sexually charged dying animal you ever did see.

Both of my hands were on the pole. I jumped from the ground and wrapped my legs around the pole and begin to spin.

One.

Two.

Three.

Stomp.

I did it. I stuck the landing perfectly. Both feet now on the ground, I descend onto my back. Sweat glazed my body. As I faked my final moments, my cock jiggled in the air each time I thrust my hips up. Lashona came to me after spinning a few times upon the pole. She reached down, her hands sliding over my fabric clad legs and wrapping them around my back. She pulled me up and rested me upon her hips. Our penises touched, and before the whole crowd we started frotting. The sweat from our dancing bodies was more than enough lube.

The crowd went wild and started chanting our names as Lashona jerked us both off. Our glistening cock slipped and slid upon one another. Her dark shaft dwarfed mine by at least two inches. It wasn't long before we started leaking pre-cum and started kissing. I rested my arms over her shoulders and gave into her lips. The two of us spun around some more, Lashona's remarkable strength and stamina supporting both our weights. She pressed me up against the wall of end of the stage and plugged my anus with her cock. Down to her sack, I was filled with her.

I've never felt such exhilaration in my life. The cool breeze from the air hitting my body. The soft, warm embrace of my queen holding me in her arms. Her stiff, lengthy cock burried inside my rectum. Stretching my walls and radiating warmth. I couldn't hold back.

Cum erupted from my urethra and coated the lower end of Lashona's rib cage. She scooped and slurped up a dollop of my seed and with one last twirl struck the ground with her foot. I leaned back almost as if I were doing the finishing pose of the waltz. Both of our hands were outstretched as we finished our routine. I fought a goofy, satisfied face while Lashona panted and blushed, but otherwise still held her kind, confident smile.

I closed my eyes, the last sight they witnessed before blackness was a smiling Lashona and her sapphire eyes.

I awoke later that evening, a bit sore. I was sprawled out over a couch. Lashona's couch. The one we spent our first night on. I was still clad in my bunny suit.

Lashona, who was laying next to me, was completely nude. I didn't say anything. And neither did she. All she did was engage in a lengthy kiss with me as her hand massaged my penis. I returned the favor and pumped my digits along her length.

"You did great out there, Traci. You were gorgeous."

Blushing, I smile. A single tear left my eye. "Thank you... Lashona. I love you...!"

She wiped my tear away and pressed her forehead upon mine.

"I love you too, Traci."

Our kissed resumed and I practically jumped into her lap. I impaled myself upon her erection, hungry for more since I didn't receive her seed during the performance.

I bounced up and down upon her thighs. My rump rippled with each impact, and my cock spasmed each time she battered my prostate. I weakly supported myself with my arms upon the sleek black couch below us. Our bodies slapped loudly as we mashed together. Sweat began to flow again upon our bodies, and a wet shine coated us. I moaned, groaned, yelped and whimpered obscenities with each and every touchdown into my sphincter. Every time she forced the sperm from my penis, I shouted her name.

"Lashona! Fuck, ahhh...! Lashona, cum inside of me! I want it! Please!" I beg and plead for this deliverance.

Finally, after god knows how many times she split apart my narrow insides with her girth, a torrent of her juice blasts deeper inside me. She coats my colon in her cum, marking me as the subject I am and always will be. She lets out a moan and clutches my hips, forcing them down against her pelvis as she shoots her livid white load into my backside. I quiver as a load of my own spurts out weakly from my joystick.

I squirm and gasp with a girly voice as Lashona prods my backdoor with her fingers. She gives my spent nethers a little massage and remarks at how loose my asshole has become thanks to her efforts.

Semen drips from my boy-cunt once I lift off of her with a wet squelch. My ass was destroyed, stuffed with her thick sticky jizz and dilating wildly. My breathing was heavy and my arms were weak. They gave out and I fell into the pillowy comfort of her melons. I collared her midsection with my arms and I refused to let go.

I wanted to be right then and right there forever.