I felt stupid, sitting at the back of the club all on my own. Just for an hour, they’d said. We’ll only be an hour, then we’ll move on to a place you’re more comfortable with.
When our Christmas entourage had arrived at the club, I’d headed to the bar first, then straight to the table furthest away from…well, from all of it. From their howling and shrieking, from the little stages with the poles in the centre. I didn’t want to be part of this, it just wasn’t my thing.
We’d been here for nearly two hours, now. I’d watched each of them – all twelve – pick up with either a girl from the stage or a guy from the crowd and disappear into the long corridor to the left of the bar. They needn’t have bothered looking for privacy, because nobody else had.
I’d believed them when they’d said it was just a run of the mill strip club, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t say exactly what it was, but I knew it wasn’t that. I’d been in strip clubs many times and I’d never seen even one couple having sex in any of them, so being surrounded by so many people sucking and fucking was a sure fire sign that I wasn’t in any old strip joint.
Four women and two men.
That’s how many people I’d turned down since I put my ass in this uncomfortable leather chair. It squeaked when I moved, irritating me. The seventh was just approaching, but he turned away with a good-natured shrug when I shook my head.
When I saw my best friend say goodbye to one dishevelled guy before saying hello to an astonishingly tall girl, I despaired of ever getting out of there. But a sight caught my eye and, all of a sudden, leaving didn’t seem as important to me as it had.
What had caught my eye? A foot.
Or rather, a foot in a black stiletto. The shoe was blood red patent leather with a black panel running up the back, and the foot inside of it was encased in black nylon. Just visible beneath the fine black mesh was a flash of red. The toenails were painted to match the shoes.
I gave the leg the foot was attached to a perfunctory glance, and found it to be short and very slender. The woman was wearing skin tight trousers that were split from ankle to hip. The pieces were held together with red lace that had been threaded corset-style through silver metal eyelets that glittered in the club’s lighting. I could see that her legs were bare. She must have been wearing little nylon socks.
That thought drew my eyes back to her foot. It had been joined by the other. She was tapping her feet together, moving them out from beneath the table. She kept going until they were pointed right at me. I was mesmerised by the whirl and swirl of her ankle, by the deep curve of her instep.
A quick glance up confirmed that she was looking back at me. Two men were talking around the table, at each other, at her, but she wasn’t paying them any attention. She leaned forward, showing me the tight, small cleavage beneath her white shirt. Her bra was black and edged in red. Her hair was the same. She had wide sparkling blue eyes. They flicked down and mine followed. She wriggled her toes.
I could feel my cock starting to twitch. If she had any idea exactly what her little display was stirring in me she’d probably run a mile. It took a woman with a lot of balls to give me what I needed.
I laughed at my own little joke. Aah, if only.
One of the guys leaned in and said something to her. She scowled, spinning in her seat. Her right foot slammed into the metal post beneath the table and my stomach crunched. That one accidental action made the entire Christmas club crawl worthwhile. God, my cock was like marble! My eyes were still on those pretty feet when the two guys got up and left her there, all alone.
Pointing one foot right out, she brought it back and picked up a slow rhythm, bouncing it off the post over and over. It was hypnotic. Erotic. The more she did it, the harder my cock became, and after watching for a solid five minutes I peeked at her face again. Such intent in her stare! Holding my eyes, she swung her leg and kicked the table. Hard.
I actually groaned out loud. There’s no way could she have heard me, but she knew. She got up, checked out her shoes from every angle, and then gave me an inquisitive look. She wanted to know if I was interested. I wanted to know if she knew what she’d been doing. So I got up and followed her.
The room she led me to was small. There was a single chair at the back, and it had an oddly shaped seat. The front was cut out so it almost made a U shape. The woman stopped me before I could sit down. Her hand felt tiny around my cock. So tiny, I gave her mouth a curious look. It was a small, pouty rosebud, but her lips were plump and juicy. I wondered if I’d get to see how they looked wrapped around my cock. The thought shocked me.
Of all the things I wanted women to do to my dick, sucking it had never been high on my list of desires.
She unzipped my jeans and slipped her hand inside. Her fingers were cold. I waited for the stroking to begin, more eager than I would have ever expected myself to be, but that’s not what happened. Moving my throbbing length to the side, she curled her fingers around my balls. Scratching…pinching…digging in…squeezing. She didn’t stop. Her hand kept on tightening until I was giving her tiny frame all of my weight.
She staggered back against the wall, but didn’t let go of my balls.
Which was perfection, because I didn’t want her to. I started to grind, rubbing my cock against her bangled wrist even though my eyes were starting to leak at the corners. The pain was intense, but not as intense as the pleasure.
“I knew it,” she whispered, delighted by my despair when she released me. “I knew by the way you reacted when I kicked the table that this is what you wanted. It’s what I want too. Sit down, honey, I’ll take care of us both.”
I lurched to the seat, sinking gingerly down. My poor fucking balls were burning, and I loved it as much as I hated it.
She straddled my leg. I couldn’t see her feet, but I could see a darker streak of blue appearing on my jeans. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I waited until she nodded before reaching down. Her pants were open at the crotch! She was rubbing her pussy on my thigh, soaking me.
Holding two fingers over her clit, I watched her rock. Seeing her taking what she wanted in such a way, ignoring the monster she’d created in my pants…it was unbelievably hot. This was a rarity. I didn’t usually feel this way unless I was getting what I needed, but she was doing it for me.
She was about to come, I could see it in her face, feel it in the wild snapping of her hips.
But before she reached climax, she tore herself away from me.
Almost as if it was happening in slow motion, her leg pulled back and immediately swung forward again. I watched it move through air, kept my eyes on it as it passed between my knees, my thighs…
Then it hit home.
My cock crunched to the side, my balls flattened against my ass. My teeth sank into the back of my forearm and tears spilled down my cheeks. How I didn’t fall off the chair I don’t know, but I managed to stay where I was.
She did it again, and this time it was in real-time. Her instep connected with my balls and she moaned at my screech. God, I fucking hated it. I loved it. I didn’t even know her name, but in that moment, I loved her more than I’d ever loved anything.
My back was on the floor now. I was trying to cover my agonised balls while trying to open my legs for her at the same time. She sat in the chair and kicked her shoes off. They both hit me, and I grabbed them, cradling them to my chest.
With one foot pressed over my mouth and nose and the other grinding into my balls, she rubbed her cunt in a frenzy. Her eyes were on mine. I was watching her, breathing in the slightly sweaty, leathery scent of her foot. It took me some doing, but I opened my mouth and flattened my tongue on her sole, tasting salt and a chemical that was probably from a powder of some kind.
Now she was going to come.
She was telling me so. Her foot pressed harder against my face, cutting off my breaths, and the other pushed down on my balls so hard I was terrified something would rupture.
But she was coming, and so was I. My cock throbbed against the bottom of her foot, covering the inside of my jeans with so much cum I’d probably end up throwing them out rather than washing them. I couldn’t see her anymore. I was too busy watching the starbursts that were going on behind my eyelids.
Then she was lying down beside me, and I held her. I knew I was sobbing, so I couldn’t tell if her shakes were my fault or hers. If only we’d been somewhere we could have fallen asleep. We weren’t, though, so I would stay awake while she dozed in my arms, and when she woke we’d talk about what we’d just done. With any luck I’d found someone who could give me what I needed. I don’t know, maybe it would become something, maybe it wouldn’t. All I knew right now was, I’d found myself one hell of a little nutcracker.
Week #119
