Bizz Girl

I used to go to this topless club in Indianapolis that had a great 3-for-1 drink special between 3 PM and 5 PM weekdays. That's the slow period, and so they were trying to get customers in.

It wasn't really working, as the place was nearly dead, but, personally—aside from the happy hour there--that's my favorite time to be in a strip club because the ratio of dancers to customers is high, there's no fighting the madding crowd, and the girls will generally do more for less due to the supply/demand economics.

Even so, because I'd arrived a bit before 3 PM, my favorite dancers had not yet come in, so I was kind of bored and sucking down Coronas pretty fast. Out of cigarettes, I went out to my car to get another pack and lit up one while in my car, lowering the window to exhaust the smoke.

A few spaces over, a big black Caddy parked and out stepped 7 very well-dressed men with briefcases they put in the trunk. They were obviously businessmen, probably execs, who'd knocked off early on this Friday afternoon.

Correction: BusinessPERSONS, as I realized one of them was a woman. I didn't notice her at first because she got out on the far side, had short hair and wore a conservative business suit, and probably would not have noticed her at all had the group not lingered with conversation that I overheard.

I gathered that these men routinely hit a strip bar on Friday afternoons and, though she was a co-worker, had always been left out because she was female. She knew where they went and wanted to be included, to be treated like one of the boys. This was her first such outing, and the men were getting a final are-you-sure-about-this from her before they went in.

Well, now, this was shaping up to be interesting. And as they walked across the lot to the door, I could see that she was shaped up interesting, slim but with curves the conservative suit could not hide, with long legs in heels, a very pretty face, looking to be in her late 20s or early 30s.

I got out to follow them in, but as I did, up drove the familiar Celica with my two favorite dancers inside, who noticed I was staring at the particularly attractive businesswoman and kidded me what a long shot nailing her would be.

We chatted and I told them what I'd just picked up: that this was the first time she'd ever been to a strip joint, that she'd come on an equality basis, a one-of-the-boys type of thing.

The dancers got a kick out of that and said they'd had a couple of female customers like that before and knew exactly what to do--treat her like one of the boys.

When I came back into the club, the businesspersons had a table near the stage and already had their drinks. I sat down a couple tables away, making sure Bizz Girl was in my direct line of sight, and got another three Coronas. Slow as Christmas, they and I were at that point the only customers in there, and there wasn't a dancer in sight.

Shortly, one of my fave gals--the busty blonde--came out to do the drill, which in Indy was dancing the first song clothed in skimpy attire, dancing the second song with the top off, then out into the crowd topless for up close and personal mini-dances for more tips. If you wanted a so-called private dance--twenty bucks per song--she'd either take you off into a dark corner or do you right at your table--your choice. If you were a smart customer, you knew to go to a dark corner where you'd get more intimacy, much more with my two faves.

The songs were short, so Blondie was at the businesspersons' table in no time, working her way around with each of the guys, collecting ones and fives. Bizz Girl was at the end of the table, and it was obvious to me she was uncomfortable—guzzling Coronas—and increasingly uneasy as the stripper neared. Like many women who've never been in such a place before, it did not appear that she knew strip clubs do not limit their dancers to purely visual stimulation. While this was going on, my other favorite dancer--the slim, nippley brunette--came out on the stage.

Anyway, when the booby blonde stripper got to Bizz Girl, she wiggled her ass and tits and so forth very close, but was careful not to touch her. Bizz Girl was laughing, albeit nervously, as the guys goaded the dancer on.

Then the stripper pulled up a chair, sat in it facing her, spread her legs, and started playing with her pussy through her thin panties while staring right into the eyes of Bizz Girl. Blondie then picked up Bizz Girl's third, nearly empty longneck, squeezed the lime on her big, softball-size tits, and began sliding the bottle between them before working it on down south.

The law is curious in Indy: Bottomless is prohibited, but as long as there is some item of clothing on dancer's hips, just about anything goes. So, in keeping within the regs, the stripper pulled her thong up between her pussy lips--plainly visible--and started rubbing the phallic bottle up and down and all around them.

Bizz Girl was squirming with anxiety, yet obviously enthralled, eyes riveted on the dancer's for-all-intensive-purposes naked body. I'll never forget what the stripper did next, both for its boldness and incredible coordination. Still in the chair, Blondie used her TOES to slowly unfasten each of the brass buttons on Bizz Girl's double-breasted suit jacket! You've heard of eye-hand coordination; I guess you'd call that eye-foot coordination. Amazing, not to mention audacious.

She even undid the hidden button on the inside, as the jacket was draped down loosely. Because it was double breasted, I couldn't see anything, but the stripper's foot momentary lingering beneath the linen made me hope there was a little nipple caress underway.

Well, because of the way the guys were juxtaposed to Bizz Girl at the table, even the one with the best view could only see her from the side, but they could all see the stripper perfectly well. I figured she was performing primarily for the guys. Well, it worked. One dude stood up, obviously with a boner, and wanted a private with Blondie, who grabbed his bulge like a leash and led him into another part of the club out of our sight. If she did him as good as she regularly did me, I knew he'd soon be cleaning out his shorts.

At that juncture, the nippley brunette finished her second dance. She had a much more flamboyant style, and with high drama, strutted down off the stage directly to Bizz Girl, sitting in her lap and brushing her long, hard, dark nipples against first her eyelashes, down across her nose, then back and forth against her lips. Bizz Girl did not "take the bait" but neither did she shrink away. The guys were literally howling.

Nipple's long brown hair was kind of in the way, and I stood up, feigning that I was stretching, for a better view. Nipples noticed, and motioned with a curled finger for me to come hither. She'd used that exact gesture before to summons Blondie to join us for a FMF private dance, but, of course, this was a COMPLETELY different scenario, a female customer.

Even so, Bizz Girl was unusually attractive, and I'd had the hots for her from the moment I saw her in the parking lot, so I wasted no time and scrambled the 15 feet over. Nipples grabbed a bun and pulled me in closer. As usual when I go to strip joints, I was wearing shorts for more skin-on-skin contact and no underwear for maximum tactile sensation. Of course, Nipples knew that, and, still sitting in Bizz Girl's lap, turned her head to give me a "dry" blow-job.

Now, Nipples had done this many a time in private dances, but here she is mouthing my cock with a FEMALE CUSTOMER'S face not a foot away. Of course, I became immediately hard, and Nipple's oral attention was not exactly dry, her saliva printing through my white shorts to make them semi-transparent. If I could see my dick, I knew Bizz Girl could see it even better.

All the while, I am looking into her face, so pretty, with azure eyes behind cool, modern glasses, a few freckles, a light complexion but with a healthy glow, and that short dishwater blonde hair styled neat and simple over her perfectly shaped head.

From this angle, with the buttons undone, I could look down to just barely see the tops of her full breasts, which, like her cheeks, were sprinkled with a few freckles and the same healthy glow.

Taking a brief break from penile nibbling, Nipples turned her head to Bizz Girl, grasped the jacket's lapels, and said, "Remember, I'm an entertainer, and this is all part of the act. May I?"

Bizz Girl didn't say a word, but she blinked an apparent "Yes," looked up at me, and the stripper peeled open the jacket to reveal a pair of superb tits visible through her thin, transparent bra. So round, so firm, and at the upper range of medium-size, they reminded me of Jonathan apples. WOW, wouldn't I love to taste that fruit!

Her work buddies, formerly howling, had moved around for a better view and went stone cold silent. Still gazing up at me, she licked her full, luscious lips. With 6 brews of courage inside, I took that as an invitation and bent over to kiss her very lightly, getting a hungry, kiss-me-harder response, which I did as she swirled a long and agile tongue around mine.

Nipples made a few last nibbles to my now raging-hard cock, dismounted Bizz Girl, and grabbed the two guys sitting next to her by their neckties, smashing their faces into her lovely, pear-shaped, ultra-nippley boobs. Blondie returned with her guy, grinning ear to ear, and motioned for a few more cute dancers that had just come in to come on over. Like wolves on helpless hares, the five near-naked strippers slathered themselves over the six men, which they divided and conquered by escorting them back into the club's dark recesses. Before long, they'd be considerably lighter of cash and heavier of crotch.

Meanwhile, I sat in Bizz Girl's lap kissing her passionately while massaging her boobs through the bra. Finding the front clasp, I hesitated and thought, "No, I really shouldn't, not in here," but alcohol, no resistance from her, and insane horniness conspired to urged me on. I unsnapped it, and out literally popped two super-fine, extra-firm tits, situated extremely close together, peaked with silver-dollar-size areolas and rigid pink nipples. OhMyGodInHeaven they were nice!!! She thrust them up and out in a suck-them gesture, and so I did. As she combed her fingers through my hair, I vigorously slurped them all over--left, right, left, right--and buried my face in the cavern of cleavage.

She liked them sucked and teethed especially hard, which brought up those already rigid tiny-diameter nips to rock-hard points.

Horny as the devil and throwing caution to the wind, I reached back and around with my long right arm between my buns up under her skirt to find sopping wet panties. Pushing them aside, I discovered thick, inflated labia and an erect nubbin, which I rubbed with my thumb while plunging a finger, then another, into her hot, slick pussy.

Meanwhile, Bizz Girl ran a hand up the leg of my shorts to grasp Mr. Johnson hard like a tennis racket. She actually pulled my cock and balls completely out of the short's leg opening, slobbered saliva on her other hand, and went to work massaging him with that hand while tickling my sack with the other as we continued our torrid French kissing.

We were just a few feet from the vacant stage, in bright lights, and this old dude in bibbed overalls came in and sat down, staring right at us, slack-jawed. He probably thought she was a dancer and was waiting for his turn! Feeling a tad paranoid for good reason, I looked back over my shoulder to see the back side of Nipples way over on the other side of the club busy with her two businessmen. Smoking-hot-looking with the ability to get any man to cum in his pants, she was the ultimate private dancer, but they were nevertheless craning their necks in an effort to see Bizz Girl. I would have done the same.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," I said.

"Let's get out of here and fuck," she gasped, reaching down for her purse.

You really cannot ask for a more affirmative response than that, and we left in such a hurry that I forgot about my tab. I assume her co-workers picked it up along with hers.

She was a lot of fun and for nearly the entire, long drive to her place in Noblesville, she gave me a fantastic, wet and sloppy blow job, no easy task considering my car had bucket seats with a stick. With the jacket still open and the bra unfastened, I somehow managed to steer, shift, fondle boobs, receive terrific head, and still drive. I strongly recommend this be taught in driver's ed. At one point, she placed her glasses on my cock like a big nose and spoke to it with a nerdy voice. Funny! Though I was on the brink of cumming numerous times, I managed to choke back because I didn't want to waste a moment when we got to her place.

Barely inside the front door, we stripped buck naked. Her lower half was every bit as good as the upper. On the drive, I'd learned that she was a tri-athlete, which explained the healthy glow, and I could now see and feel a real hardbody with ripped abs and muscular legs supporting buns so firm there was no crease between. Her pussy looked as good as it felt in the club, completely shaved to reveal a mons all inflated out over large, puffy labia and that big clit poking its head up as if screaming for attention.

And attention I gave, dropping to my knees on the marble foyer to lick and suck it like there was no tomorrow. In minutes, standing there in nothing but high heels, fondling her magnificent boobs, and twiddling her hard nips, she climaxed. As if that weren't sufficiently stimulating, a staccato stream of pussy juice launched forth into my face, and I opened my mouth to drink down every delicious drop, probably half a cup in all. Bizz Girl remains one of the few true squirters I've ever experienced. Wonderful, simply wonderful.

"Let's do it every possible way all over my house," she suggested

I was more than happy to accommodate, flying-fucking her from one room to another. We fucked missionary on a cold metal filing cabinet in the office. We fucked doggie on the hood of her crayon-blue Miata in the garage. She atop me, we fucked on the springy end of the diving board over her beautiful swimming pool. We even fucked on her commode! All the while, her Welsh Corgi, so quiet and well mannered, followed us around and watched our every move, his head cocked to one side. That really cracked me up!

It was all terrific, but perhaps the best moment was when we were in the utility room. I had her atop the washer and was fucking her missionary. I couldn't decide what looked best, the expression on her face, her heaving tits, or my cock going in and out of her lippy pussy, so I just kept shifting my view from one to another. She was on the brink of cumming, and I needed a better angle to make it happen, so I climbed up onto the machine with her and bent her legs all the way back to her ears. In doing so, I punched the washer control that sent the Kenmore into the spin cycle—don't ask me how, because I don't know, but that's what happened.

Anyway, the machine picked up speed and began to wobble, at first just a bit, then more and more. Not a problem, for she was getting my ever-faster in-out fucking at the same time the out-of-balance appliance conferred an around-and-around motion. She started cumming, and I didn't think she'd ever stop! Of course, as she did, she ejaculated huge quantities of pussy juice that made her otherwise perfect-for-my-cock-size vagina so slick that no matter how fast I pumped, I was just not going to spew. I seized her tits with military force, concentrated with all my might, but could not cum. Meanwhile, she's gasping and oooing and ahhhhing like a woman possessed, quite possibly setting some kind of record for length of orgasm.

Finally, at the end of the spin cycle, the machine shut off, and it was suddenly quiet but for our heavy breathing. I guess she could read the frustration in my face, for she maneuvered me back to a standing position and sat down on a step stool in front of me. Then she sucked me so fine into her warm mouth while following her lips with one hand and massaging my scrotum with the other. The girl really knew how to use her hands in tandem with giving head. They don't teach that in driver's ed either, but they should. After several minutes of that wonderful treatment, she drooled saliva down on her boobs and began to titty-fuck me.

You know, I love titty-fucks, and her breasts were so firm and close together that she only needed to use slight inward pressure from her upper arms to squeeze them tightly around my shaft. That felt great, but then she bent forward to give me an STFBJ, a simultaneous titty-fuck blow-job. Folks, there's not many chicks that can do that at all and fewer still who can do it well, but Bizz Girl was an expert.

Thrusting mightily between her orbs into her suctioning mouth, I felt my seed rising, and, on my downstroke, with a loud pop of her lips off my cock, she looked up at me with those sky-blue eyes through the slimline, rectilinear eyeglasses slightly akimbo on her nose and said, "I want you to cum in my mouth."

Well, that's what I intended, but at that very moment of oral disengagement, I bored up through her cleavage and blasted a thick rope onto her face, covering her cheeks, nose, and lenses with man-goo before she steered my cock back into her mouth and sucked the rest right down the hatch. Smiling while that first big blast drizzled onto her tits, Bizz Girl grabbed my dick hard by the base, pulled it out of her mouth, and swabbed it firmly across her hard little nipples, milking out the last bit of ooze onto them. It was sheer ecstasy.

I guess you could say I did a big load in the laundry room.

We ordered a pizza, drank more beer, and I spent the night, fucking every which way through most of it in her enormous California king-size bed—quite a novelty, considering all the other places we'd screwed. The following morning, we went a final round in the shower, where, after an hour of coitus, fellatio, and cunnilingus, I thought we were done when she asked, with a most sincere tone, "Don't you like to butt-fuck? I like to butt-fuck every once in a while."

Well, the notion had occurred to me several times while shagging her doggie the day before, but I hadn't tried because she had a little anus, a really tiny pink flower that simply did not appear to even begin to take my 5 ½ inch-around cock. But she used those wonderful hands to soap it up, get me hard as steel again, and, standing in front of me, slowly guide it in without even a whimper. I'd already cum in her pussy, and was glad I had because I don't think I would have lasted ten seconds otherwise. Damn, she had a tight hole!

Grabbing a boob with one hand and twidding her big clit with the other, I slowly pushed ALL the way in, pulled ALL the way out, then back through her sphincter, ALL the way in and ALL the way out, again and again. Finally, I felt her juices squirting into my hand and knew she was cumming, so I relaxed and let her rip, depositing into her glorious rectum the last drops of my depleted sperm. It was an awesome ass-fuck, the tightest orifice Mr. Johnson ever came a calling.

With an approving look, could he have spoken, the ever-present Corgi seemed to be saying, "Good boy."

Besides being a sexual dynamo, she was smart and fun, and I really liked her all around and would have loved to date her. But she was a corporate climbing workaholic and so had no time for anything beyond a pretty much purely sexual relationship. In fact, we never went out even a single time. I'd just rendezvous with her at her place, where we'd order in some Chinese or whatever, drink beer or wine, and then have massive sex, an arrangement that I, of course, gladly accepted. Sometimes, when she'd have to get up before dawn to work the next day or compete in a triathlon, I wouldn't even stay the night.