When investigative reporter Sally Evans receives her latest assignment to uncover the naked truth, she gets more than she bargained for.Eight weeks on tour with the Naked Nights male stripper troupe to expose all their dirty secrets, is this serious reporter’s worst nightmare. She’d rather a man keep his clothes on. For Sally, sex is only a consideration if it happens in the dark, not that she can remember the last time she had a reason to turn the lights off.With over-eager, over-sexed female fans in abundance and baby oil by the gallon, the guys are looking forward to some fun…. Sally’s inhibitions are not.
She gives me a look of warning as I leave the stage and head in her direction. Unlike the rest of the women on the front row, Sally’s the only one not trying to attract my attention and screaming at me to pick them. The look changes to one of resigned acceptance as I take her hand and she reluctantly follows me back to the stage.
There’s something about Sally that draws me to her. She’s real for a start, not like the plastic Barbie dolls that normally show up for our performances. Eric will be pissed that I’ve picked her; he wants us to go for the loud, raucous girls that add to our performance, not a quiet girl like Sally. As far as I know this is the first time she’s watched the performance from out front; she’s hidden backstage the other nights. Eric wanted her to experience the show the same way the audience do. Well now she’s going to get the full experience.
I guide her to the chair that’s front and center of the stage. She sits primly, knees drawn together. I make a show of taking off my grey silk tie, slowly. The audience goes wild for the tie. Eric says it reminds them of Christian Grey, not that I knew who he was before I choreographed this routine, but it always gets a reaction. I unbutton my white shirt, one button at a time, drawing it out and letting my shirt hang open. The audience screams at the sight of my barely revealed abs.
I ease the tie through my hands slowly, almost caressing it, before gently drawing it sensuously across her face. I cover her eyes with the tie, securing it loosely at the back of her head. Moving in front of her, my back to the audience, I pretend to thrust my groin into her face. At the same time I lower the shirt down my back, revealing my strong shoulders inch by inch. Once it’s off I ball it up, tossing it carelessly into the wings.
I turn to the audience, grinning and holding out the bottle of baby oil I just picked up. I make an elaborate show of the bottle and they scream in appreciation. I take one of Sally’s hands in mine. It fits perfectly. Turning her hand so it’s flat, palm up, I pour some of the oil into it, and then rub both her hands together. I move to stand in front of her, facing the audience, thrusting my groin at them. They scream. “Off. Off. Off.” They’re predictable after all. I take tiny steps backward until my legs are either side of Sally’s, and then slowly lower myself into her lap. The blindfold heightens her senses, she may not be able to see me but she can feel me. She still utters a little murmur of surprise as I hover just above her lap. I reach behind me for her hands, bringing them round the front of my chiseled abs, and slowly, oh so slowly, I use her hands to rub the baby oil onto my chest. The lights glisten on the oil, making my upper body appear even more toned. “Just imagine your hands are mine.” I whisper to her.
I do this performance nearly every night, I’ve had hundreds of women run their hands over me, but tonight something’s different. Shit. This is actually arousing me. Do I show her what she’s doing to me? I move her hands lower, slowly teasing the audience who encourage me with vulgar catcalls. “Get his cock out!” one girl screeches from the front row. The tempo of the music increases, becoming more sensual as I trace the V leading to the top of my waistband with her hands.
Eric allows us to decide just how far we go with this part of the act. Normally I stop here. Not tonight. I guide her hands to the belt buckle; she understands and releases the clasp. Next I guide her to draw the belt out, all our movements slow and sensual. I take the freed belt from her hand and throw it behind us on the stage. I reach for her hand again to release the button on my trousers. I hear the indrawn breath as she realizes this isn’t quite the regular performance; one hand being drawn inside my waistband as the other releases the zipper. I want to tell her to touch me, that my cock won’t bite her, but that kind of talk doesn’t seem right with Sally. She’s got too much class for that.
I use her hand to caress my length. Fuck. That feels so good through my boxers. I want this to be real, not an act. Her grip tightens gently, as much as I want to continue this, I can’t. The audience are egging her on, even more crude language spouting from their over glossed lips.
I stand quickly, startling Sally. Turning to face her I lower the waistband of my jeans an inch. On cue the screaming raises in volume. Another inch. Now they’re shouting for me to “get em off” and to “get your cock out” My trousers are level with my boxers now, and I lower them both, inch by slow, teasing inch, until half of my arse is on display. I move a few steps closer to Sally, my groin level with her face. I grind a few times, stopping a whisper away from her lips. Oh God. The thought of those lips caressing my cock. I draw in a deep breath, calming my wayward thoughts. I’m desperately trying to get my head back into that neutral zone I use for performances.
I torment the audience a little more, pulling my trousers back up. Snap. I release them instantly, tossing them aside, and the screaming grows even more raucous if that were possible. Still facing Sally I pick up a towel. Holding it in front of me with one hand, I lower my boxers with the other. They fall, pooled around my feet. The screaming continues.
I step closer to Sally, the towel the only thing between her and me right now. I take one hand, placing it on an arse cheek, then repeat the action with her other hand. She understands what’s needed and gently massages me. My cock gets even harder. At this point I’m supposed to thrust my towel-clad cock into her face. I can’t. That feels wrong with Sally. I grind my hips, simulating the thrust, all the time wishing I could feel those perfect lips caressing me. I try to bring my mental state down from highly aroused to stage aroused; yes there’s a difference.
I draw one of Sally’s hands round to my front, placing it on my cock, holding the towel in place. The shock always makes them pull their hand back, well normally. There was one over eager fan who had a good grope the other night before releasing the towel. Sally performs as expected, pulling back her hand and allowing the towel to fall. The audience noise level is through the roof. One more hip thrust to finish off the performance, then I dramatically release Sally’s blindfold. Her eyes go wide, and a smile lights up her face before she laughs out loud.
I turn to the audience; hands raised high, thrusting my hips towards them, along with my cock, still hidden in a Union Jack sock. I get a standing ovation.
I guide Sally back to her seat in the audience and thank her. The girls either side of her immediately begin calling her a lucky cow and asking what it was like. As I move back to the stage I don’t miss the look in her eyes. I’m in for a shit load of trouble after the show, that’s for sure.
You know what? It was totally worth it.
Passionate reader, blogger, publisher, and author. I love nothing more than helping other Indie authors publish their books be that reviewing, beta reading, formatting or proofreading, I love erotic suspense that’s well written and engages the reader, and I love promoting the heck out of it over on my book blog.
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