Stripping for Daddy by Gia Blue Page B

I cut him off
and hop onto the stage. I'm not taking no for an answer. "Turn on the
music and you'll see.  I swear." 
    I bust out with my signature "I
swear" just for him. I'd "sworn" about everything when I'd lived
with him and Betty.  Only, Betty never believed me.  Jake always did.
    He sighs heavy and I've got him.
Boo-yeah.  He glares at me, but moves to the wall with the sound system
controls, flips a switch and a sensuous beat fills the room.  It's not what I'd
perform to if I was on stage, but strippers are also dancers and I need to
learn how to adapt.
    I listen for a moment before I move. 
I've got to mix in stripping off clothes with the pole, a flick and tug of
cloth, a seductive smile, sliding the cotton from my shoulders to reveal my
tiny bikini top beneath.  It barely constrains my breasts, flesh spilling from
the sides.  I cup my tits for a brief moment and then swing around the metal,
show off my assets. On every turn I make eye contact, lick my lips,
wink…something to entice him.
    I slow and then stop to peel off another
layer, tiny skirt disappearing, leaving me in nothing but a thong and the top. 
Down to the basics, I focus on my dancing, lean against the pole and touch
myself, my breasts, between my thighs. 
    My gaze is still on him, on his cloth
encased legs spread wide as he slumps in his chair, on the way his t-shirt
clings to his muscled chest and the rapid rise and fall as his rate of
breathing increases.  Yeah, he's affected.
    I spin and my top is next, strings
snapping, and my tits are covered by my hands alone.  I knead and toy with
them, nibble my lower lip and I don't have to fake the pleasure I feel.
    God, I've had a crush on Jake for
forever.  My first tingle of arousal at thirteen was to the thought of him. 
What I'm feeling now is way beyond a tingle.  My pussy aches and tightens,
grows heavy and I know I'm soaking the bit of cloth between my thighs. Prepping
me for being fucked.
    Then again, I've never been fucked, so
I'm just guessing.
    Yeah, virgin, stripper, whore.
    I reveal my breasts, watch him lick his
lips, and I continue my visual foreplay, dance and gyrate, tempt and tease. 
The music moves me, tugs and pulls my body this way and that.
    I moan, hands wandering over my heated
skin, touching those delicate, pleasure-inducing places.  I want so damn bad.
    I put a hand between my legs, stroke
my folds, pretend I'm masturbating…thing is, I really am.  I'm really teasing
my clit beneath my thong, toying with the nub while I pinch my nipple and bring
my arousal higher.
    More and more I'm giving myself, lost in
the dance and Jake's gaze.
    "That's enough."
    I open my eyes, surprised, and a
little pissed, that my orgasm was snatched from me. Damn it. I pull my hands
from their playgrounds and work hard not to glare at him. 
    "I can't hir—"
    "I didn't show you my lap
dance." I'm determined.  At worst, I don't get hired. But at least I'll
get to touch him as an adult, feel him at least once and get him the fuck out
of my system.
    "Holly…"
    "Just one dance, Daddy," I
drop my voice to a purr. "And then I'll go."
    He drops his head back, eyes closed,
for a few moments but he finally looks at me. "Fine. Make it fast."
    I smirk. "I don't do anything
worth doing fast ."
    I step down from the stage, stalk him,
hips rolling and stride full of sex, desire oozing from my pores.   I walk
around him, trail my fingers over his tense muscles. I lean down and whisper in
his ear. "Ready?"
    "As I'll ever be." He
grumbles but seems to settle into his seat.
    I spin and swing a leg over his lap,
press my breasts forward, close to his face, grind my barely-clad pussy against
his lap.  I smile at the hard ridge beneath me, the thick cock that seems to be
straining toward me. 
    I moan and lean close, whisper against
his lips. "Very nice."
    "Holly…"
    I keep it up, give myself up to the
pulse of the music, rock and hump his dick, arousal flaring bright once again.
"Oh, yeah."
    I know