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When I was 18 I decided it would be a good idea to be a stripper, not knowing that sometimes more would be expected than taking my clothes off. I was a virgin, but I loved to dance and had a perfect cheerleader body: full, round 32-DD tits, tight, round ass, flat belly, and thick, long, wavy red hair. I had learned about my power over men, and honestly I wanted to exploit it and make a little money in the process.
My first night at the Roxy was an eye-opener for me. The room was filled with dirty, fat old men smoking cigars, stroking their cocks through their pants, nothing like the football players and fraternity boys whose attentions I had so easily gotten before. I had no idea what I was doing, but I was a pretty good dancer, and I watched the other girls. It didn't take long to figure out what it took to get the tips, and pretty soon those nasty guys were cumming in their pants while I ground my cunt into their laps.
I was on stage as the main event when a group of three or four younger, preppy-looking guys walked in the door. "Finally!" I thought, there would be some hot guys to flirt with. I couldn't see their faces too well because of the stage lights in my eyes, but I could feel their eyes on me, and I could see they had nice, tight bodies. Athletes, I suspected.
As I stepped off stage, the owner of the club caught my arm. "There's some dude who wants you for a private."
"Huh?" I asked.
"A private dance. A private room. The guy flashed me a wad of bills. You make him give you a couple hundred."
"A coupe hundred!?! For a dance?"
The owner rolled his eyes. "No, dumb ass. You give him a blow job. Fuck him for all I care, just don't tell nobody I told you you could."
I started to shake. A blow job? A fuck? This was not what I had bargained for. I was from a nice family in the suburbs, pretty innocent. I walked toward the back room in the direction he had pointed me, dread in every step.
I knocked on the door. "Come in," I heard. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
I walked in the door. The light was even dimmer in here, but I could tell the guy whose voice I had heard was one of the younger crowd that had come in the door while I was on stage. I began to relax a bit, though I was still shivering. He patted the bench beside him. Without looking at his face, I sat down next to him.
"You're not nervous are you, sis?"
Shocked, I looked up. My older brother sat beside me. My first reaction was to laugh in relief. I wouldn't have to give HIM a blow-job, at least. But then a wave of fear overtook my brain. Would he tell on me? Blow my cover? Inform my parents? Get me kicked off the cheerleading team? Dean was 5 years older than I was. He had always harassed me as a kid, he and his friends spying on me, tickling me, chasing me, teasing me. I always thought he was a little cruel, and now that cruelty scared me.
"Shit, Dean, you won't tell on me with you? Mom would just die of embarrassment."
"I suppose I could be persuaded to keep my mouth shut."
"What do you want? Money? I have made like $250 tonight. You can have it."
"No, I have money. Lots of it." I had always suspected Dean was selling drugs. As he patted his wallet I was sure of it.
"What then?" And then my stomach dropped. Of course! Suddenly I remembered the way he used to watch me when he lived at home. Once I caught him hiding in my closet when I came out of the shower. Another time he stole one of my cheerleading pictures from my room. And I always suspected he might have been taking my panties out of the laundry.
I looked over at his lap, his erection growing in his pants. "Oh, no," I said. "Not that."
He laughed. "Yes, little sister. That. You do it quietly and I will double your take home for the night, send you out of here with another $250 in your g-string. Or, you will fight me and all you'll get is my silence. Maybe."
I knew I was trapped. There was a good reason why Dean always got what he wanted.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"I will tell you, all in good time," he replied. "First, I want to see more of that dancing. And this time, don't leave anything to my imagination."
So, I stood, slowly swiveling my hips back and forth, haltingly at first, but then, as always, I lost myself in the music. I began to dance the way I did in front of my mirror at home when no one was watching, practicing a sensual strip tease for my imaginary audience. Except this time, my audience was very real. I could hear him breathing. Finally, I stood before him completely nude, my head down, my nipples erect with fear and longing.
"You have always been sexy," he said. I looked up. His hand was in his lap, almost mindlessly rubbing his crotch. Without thinking, I went on my knees on the floor between his legs. I don't know who was more surprised, me or him. I liked knowing that I had shocked him. It gave me courage. So I decided that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.
I unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. As I pulled them forward, his hips slid to the end of the bench. He moaned, giving me another burst of adrenaline. A feeling of power. I tickled his cock through his boxer shorts, my fingernails barely teasing him. His cock was growing, peeking out through the slit in his shorts. Looking up into his eyes, I opened my mouth wide, poised over his cock, which seemed to be reaching up for me of its own accord. I always heard a man leads with his cock.
But I teased him, breathing heavily, the warm air from my lungs torturing that hard cock. "Please," he whimpered.
"Please, what?" I asked.
"Please...put it in your mouth."
Pulling his shorts down to his feet I now saw his cock fully exposed. I didn't know at the time what a truly large cock my brother had, relative to other guys his size, but I did know enough to pause with intimidation at the thought of putting that in my mouth, or anywhere else for that matter. But my trepidation lasted only a millisecond before my adventurous mind took over. I began to lick, tentatively at first, running my flat tongue up the underside of his cock. He sighed with pleasure, so I did it again.
"Do you know how long I've fantasized about you doing this, Char?" he asked, giving me more courage. I licked around the rim of his head, as if I were licking an ice cream cone, melting on a sunny day.
"How long?" I asked, encouraging him.
"Forever. I used to lay in bed at night and think about you, imagine what your pussy would taste like, your tight little asshole." I noticed my cunt juices dripping down my thighs with this thought. "And god, you have such great tits." He paused, his eyes rolling back into the back of his head, as my mouth moved up and down, faster and faster over his cock. I gripped the base, moving my hand in rhythm with my mouth, slightly twisting my wrist as I stroked.
"Dean, I want you to fuck me," I said.
He looked down at me, his eyes wide. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Have you done it before?"
"Yes," I said, answering the first question but not the second, hoping he wouldn't notice. He leaned over and grabbed my face in his hands, kissing me deeply, his tongue searching out the recesses of my mouth. He stood up, pulling me with him, and lay his coat down on the wide bench.
"Lie here," he said. I was shivering with excitement and fear as I lay down on the hard bench. Expecting him to enter me, I shut my eyes, hoping it wouldn't hurt. But what I felt was wet and soft, and I looked down to see his face buried between my thighs, his tongue lapping my cunt, teasing my clit.
"God, Dean, I always wanted you to do that!"
For a moment he paused. "You taste better than I even imagined," he said, immediately returning his mouth to my tight pussy, his tongue seeming to stretch me wider as he drank in my juices. Within moments I was writhing in orgasm, moaning so loudly I knew we would soon hear a knock on the door. But this was a strip club; they probably heard those kind of noises all the time. We were left undisturbed.
Dean slid up to kiss me. I tasted my pussy, sweet and thick on his mouth. I felt the head of his cock poised at the opening of my virgin slit. "Are you sure?" he asked again.
"Yes," I whispered.
He moaned deeply as he entered me.
I gasped softly as I stretched but soon adjusted to his cock inside me, willing my muscles to relax, breathing deeply. Soon, I was pulling him in, my feet wrapped around his hips, my hands grasping the back of his shoulders. I felt his cock hit the wall of my belly, harder and faster as the intensity of his thrusts increased. I wasn't on any birth control, but I didn't tell him this. By now I didn't care.
"Oh, Dean," I moaned, "Cum in me. I want to feel you cum in me."
That seemed to be all the motivation he needed. I felt him tense up and release, grunting as he released his load in my cunt, his warm juices filling me until I exploded in orgasm again.
He slumped over on top of me, burying his head in my long red hair. I felt his breath, warm on my neck as his breathing slowed again. We lay like that for what seemed like hours but probably was only minutes until we heard a knock on the door. "You done in there yet?" a gruff voice asked.
"Almost," I replied.
He kissed me as he rolled off of me. We dressed in silence, quickly, with some measure of guilt but with, as well, a palpable sense of relief and joy. As we turned to go, Dean grabbed my arm gently. "Charlotte," he said, quietly. "Thank you."
I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling, and walked out the door.
We have never spoken of it since. I have never, until now, told anyone about it, and I suspect he hasn't either. But every once-in-a-while, we will be at a family gathering or dinner, he with his new wife and I with my boyfriend. We will look at each other with that knowing look in our eyes and grin, wondering if, one day...one day...