Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Country Night on the Red Couch

"You are very beautiful, and you are oh so soft, and you are very good at this!", I said to her as we wound down from our half hour dance in the club's VIP lounge.

It was the perfect storm of falling off the wagon. Yes, I know. I wasn't going to be going to clubs anymore. But two factors of my own choosing conspired against me:

- I wanted to drop by and deliver this month's very interesting selections of the BOB-of-the-month club to two very lovely young dancers. A vaned-wave vibrator for one, and a gel/waterproof/silent motor/oddly G-spot shaped beauty for the other.

- I had some discount generic overseas boner pill in my system. I had just received my order and decided to try a half dose just to see if the generic stuff was effective. (Keep in mind that this stuff does not produce an instant 4 hour erection. You have to have some stimulation for it to work. Do you think there might be any stimulation in a strip club? Do you think?)

Okay, it was definitely foolish of me to walk into my favorite strip club, delivering vibrators to accompanying talk with a beautiful stripper about their use and effectiveness, blood pumping little blue medicine, and be able to hold to my no-lapdances promise to myself. Foolish.

One of my gift recepients, Passion, was in and the other absent. We talked. She gave me good feedback on what she liked and what she didn't and what she needed. Perfect. And then she was off to the back to stash both gifts into her locker.

And it was time to meet up with Dancer. I had seen her onstage earlier asked her to stop by and dance with me.

It was like an electric shock seeing her dance onstage. It had been a couple of years since we had shared a simple $20 dance. She remembered me. I yearned for her.

Dancer has an exotic combination look. Fresh and innocent in a pink dress onstage. Slightly goth and wild with her long brown streaked hair up close. Exquisitely beautiful and very professional.

So, I went for it. And we retired to the VIP for a 1/2 hour session. Touch allowed rules. "No kitty, no titty", as they say in the trade. But I'm a gentleman and I strictly observe those boundaries. She offered me my choice of couch in the empty lounge, and I gravitated to an overstuffed red high-back couch that used to be upstairs. I have a lot of good memories on that couch. And here I was again.

Dancer and I settled in comfortably to a dance routine, because we new each other and we knew how this worked.

"Do you like country?", she asked, as the DJ started us out. "We mostly play country now". What else, out here in the cornfields.

Dancer settled her lovely frame in on my lap, her pillowy soft skin pressed against me, as I relaxed with my hands at my side.

Cheek nuzzling! My favorite. Dancer is very skilled at the GFE, and we nuzzle closely together in an almost-make out. My lips nuzzling her soft neck. Not kissing. Grazing. Experiencing. Adoring.

"Are you okay with some light touch?", I asked as the second song moved us along. "Of course", she replied as shifted easily through positions on my lap. And I touched. Starting with cradling the back of her head gently in my fingertips. My hands moving - grazing - memorizing - fingertips only. Respectful and unhurried.

My senses were alive. Fingertips in continuous motion over Dancer's back and delightful derriere as she faced me and leaned into me. On her hipbones as she faced away from me. Along her strong arms as she hovered over me and pressed those deliciously soft breasts into my face.

Was there grinding? Dry humping? Of course. Not coarse and obscene. But freely offered and certainly enjoyed. And was the medicine working? Of course. At full, throbbing, mast. Which adequately facilitated the grinding. Toward no end, I knew. At least not for me. Just a very pleasant journey. "That thing's going to be there for a while", I whispered. "If you can make it work for you, please do". And for a few brief moments, here and there in the dance, I'm thinking that she did just that. Very nice.

"This is nice. You're very good at this", I said as she assumed a unique and very pleasant position on my lap.

"I've had some practice", she smiled.

"As have I, from this side of the couch", I smiled back.

1/2 hour. A private lounge. Unhurried pleasure with a beautiful naked very-soft girl. A perfect lapdance.

And, before I left I got to enjoy a two-song spirited lapdance upstairs with Passion.

"This is my favorite room in this state", I observed to her while we waited for the first song to start.

"Not in the Ultra-VIP?", where I had just come from, she asked.

"No. Here. I have a lot of good memories in this room."

"I know that you do."

And with that, she told me a sexy story while we waited that re-activated the medicine. And we had a laughing good time acknowledging a raging boner that wouldn't quit. A boner that pitched quite a tent when I stood up.

"You're going to put the doorman's eye out with that thing", she laughed.

Off the wagon, indeed. But a very pleasurable night. A night that refreshes the Semi-Celibate Man's inner self.

Thank you, ladies.
posted by Semi-Celibate Man @ 11:42 PM | 0 comments


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