Zeva
There’s something to be said for getting paid to wiggle your body around. And, boy, do I get paid just being around these horndogs all day!
Moving to the rhythm of the music, free from the restriction of any clothing, and just able to enjoy myself all day; it’s all pretty fantastic, if you ask me. What I truly love, though, is the look in their eyes when they watch me. Seeing them stare, taking in my every move ... A simple drop of my shoulder just sets them off, and that drives me wild.
What does upset me, though, is that everyone treats me like some sort of trophy.
My father was the former MC president, so I’m suddenly the ‘boss’s daughter.’ To make matters worse, he died in action and now I’m treated as a fragile little thing. C’mon—I’m no prude. I have some dirty thoughts, just like the rest of them. I just … haven’t met the right guy yet, I guess?
But, oh, having every eye in the building sure gets me wet though. Some of the guys are actually too shy (even as bikers, if you can believe that), and won’t even stand up until their boner subsides. Other guys flaunt it (not that they always have something to show), but just seeing the way everyone reacts is a huge turn-on.
As I walk in for the day I survey the room like usual, and as always every eye in the house is on me as I take the stage. Three guys in particular catch my eye, though. I immediately recognize the bar owner and new president of MC, but I’ve never talked to him at length. Sitting across from him are the VP and who I think is the sergeant, but it’s hard to tell with one of the girls riding his cock. She does look like she’s having a nice time at least. I’m actually kind of jealous; some days I feel like I just want to fuck every guy in the room. Not that any of them have the balls to do it, anyway.
As I step up to the front of the stage and start my dance I have a higher viewpoint. I take off my clothes and move around the stage, and I see them each dismiss a girl from their table, two of which I hadn’t realized were there, and I get a brief glimpse of three enormous cocks before they’re each tucked away. I feel my knees shake slightly as they stare, and I start to work my dance up even more just for them. I feel my pussy start to leak at the thought of fucking any of them, and I hope I don’t drip down my legs for everyone to see.
Or, at least, everyone but them.
I find my mind taken completely by the thought of these men taking me for my very first time. Images of being bent over, of rocking my hips on top of them, of being pressed down by their thickly muscled bodies, all flashing through my mind. As I twirl on the pole I suddenly get an image in my mind—all three of them shoving their cocks into me all at once. I nearly slip off and fall, completely distracted from my dance. I recover with a deft maneuver, knowing nobody but some of the more seasoned dancers would've even noticed something went wrong.
That moment though … thinking about being wrapped tight by their sweating bodies, their huge cocks thrusting into my sopping pussy, my tight ass, and my throat all at once … oh, it’s just too much. I’m going crazy just imagining it. I’ve never had thoughts like this before, and I’m a little taken aback. Watching them stare up at me, their eyes flickering with every move of my hips, I just can’t help it. I can tell they don’t think of me as some fragile flower like the rest of the guys here.
They know how to handle a woman; I can see that in their eyes. And, God, I want them like I’ve never wanted anyone.
I make eye contact with the president and start to put on a special show, just for the three of them. I start to rub my body more sensually, less of a dance and more just showing off. I twirl on the pole, and then slide down with extreme grace, exchanging eye contact with each of the men, grinding my hips on the pole, slowly becoming less and less sensual, and raunchier. I want them to know this isn’t for tips. I can get any amount of ones, fives, and tens from every guy in the club.
This is about much more.
I put my back to the pole and bite my lip as I stare at them. More and more images of them fucking me in every way possible fly through my mind as I slide my ass down the pole. I kneel fully and place one hand on each knee, my knees pointing directly toward their table, and then push my knees open. I do it painfully slow, showing off every inch of thigh to them. I spread my legs to a full 180 degrees, displaying my dripping pussy, and then kick my legs out while still spread to land on my ass. I pull my legs up above my head and wrap my ankles around the pole, showing all three both of my virgin holes, taunting and tantalizing them.
The message is unmistakable.
I’ve heard every joke there is about being a virgin stripper, and I’m getting tired of it. Maybe the issue hasn’t been finding the right GUY but … the right guys? Wouldn’t that just take the cake, a virgin stripper getting fucked by three hardened biker gang guys with what looks like at least 30 inches of cock between them?
It’s looking like three is my lucky number tonight.
Every time the thought passes through my head it’s looking more and more like I need to play the game tonight. What else am I waiting for? I can’t waste a chance like this, right?