Meat-pole Dancing

After watching the two regulars (customer) finished their halves of a sandwich, they readily picked their gym bags up for what I presume, their pole-dancing class. The younger of them, a lady around my age but seemingly taller than me, came up to me with a wad of napkins, sliding it toward me as she said, ‘We didn’t use these.’

A string of numbers on the top most piece caught my eyes, and I instantly knew what that could possibly be. So very casually, I folded that sheet, bade them goodbye and replaced the rest with the clean stack.

I spent last three uneventful hours of business in mixed feelings, especially after leaving a message to that number. Just as I set off on my way home, a call came into my phone, asking me with that slightly hoarse voice I remembered, to go to her dance studio. Since it was less than three minutes away, I showed up at the door as she flipped the light switches off.

‘Come on in. Go into Studio one. I will be done in a bit.’

The room was exactly how I imagined it to be, wooden, polished floor, a wall of mirror, and shiny poles built into the floor and ceiling. While I was fiddling with the poles and ‘admiring’ myself, she popped back in in her yoga top and FBT shorts.

‘Give me a while more.’

With that, she sat in front of the mirror and took out her phone, taking selfies that showed her folded legs without any head. The latter photos went on to capture glimpses of her panties, before she finally kept her phone away.

‘I usually just sell my panties once I wear them to dance. Does that offend you?’

‘Not at all. In fact, I run an erotica site, and knows exactly how that work.’

A sly smile that broke across her face, and her phone appeared again. She signalled me to sit behind her (on the floor), and guided my hands around her thin waist, snapping our progress as my fingers slipped into her shorts.

Beyond what her ‘fans’ could see, I had already reached into her panties, and was making careful, gentle strokes along her pussy. Subsequent images pleased her better as her sensuality surfaced in the subtle changes in her body language, up till she was arching back and forth to my fingering.

(She whispered) ‘Am I very wet?’

‘You want me to show you?’

(whispering shyly) ‘uh huh.. ‘

I pulled my working hand out of her shorts and dipped two fingers into her mouth, where she took the chance to take more photos of herself, devouring her slimy goodness between her lips. Still sucking on it seductively, my other hand resumed stroking her clit, driving her into a trance-like mood.

After five minutes more of continuous fingering, occasionally firing her shutter key, she crawled forward clumsily, and got into a picture-perfect, doggy pose.

‘Can you pull my top down slowly? Like in phases?’

I did as she asked and she did her thing, fulfilling her fans’ wet dreams pictorially. We went all the way down to her shorts, where it dangled at her knees, doubling as a cushion for her precious joints.

(She asked) ‘Your pants? Lower them too. I want to make them jealous.’

Naughty, I wanted to say, but held back as I unwrapped my package, reeking a little salty from the work earlier. Her turned head stay turned until I put the tip into her pussy, where she then adjusted our position to show us sideways on screen.

‘Can I start moving?’

‘Wait ah.’

She activated her lockscreen and set her phone down, tucking her arms into her chest so she would look like a puppy through the mirrors. I wasted no more time and plummet my cock into her, pumping her full of euphoria. That athletic figure jerked non-stop to each and every one of my thrusts, gasping and panting at times for air.

Still, she managed to take one or two photos of us at that workout, before asking for a change in position. Little did I expect her to choose the cowgirl stance, which she could then reveal the results of her bi-weekly training.

Seated comfortably over my cock, I was in a dishevelled state as soon as I felt how much tighter she got when she mounted atop me. Starting off with a paced, grinding motion on my groin, she aimed her phone at the mirror to film her agile hips, transiting to a back-forth rocking move.

I could only whimper and grunt in agony as she took pleasure in my demise, going faster at instances when I was most sensitive. Unneeded to say, I was pushed to my limits within minutes of her jockeying, forcing the vulnerable side out of me.

‘I’m cumming! Please stop.. ‘

‘Stop? I’m on the pill you know?’

‘Oh shit.. ‘

A very appropriate term indeed, as she found her footing by my waist, to bounce her pussy up and down over my over-exerted cock. My hands did get a scene in her video though, through frantically grasping at her waist to fruitlessly slow her down.


Somehow, I could sense her flexing her vaginal walls as she continued slamming her hips on mine, for everything I’ve got, or left with. Invisible to her fans, spurts after spurts of cum squirted, coated, in her innards, to my lifeless defense.


(I replied feebly)‘Yeah.’

She turned herself towards the mirror and made me move closer to the wall, so she could film cum leaking out and over my cock as she picked herself up. With the panties she wore earlier, she used it to ‘contain’ my cum as she brought herself to the ground next to me.

Helpfully, she pulled me up to sit behind her once again, for the last scene – of me dipping my fingers into her cum-filled pussy, and feeding her our elixir of life.

At the end of it all, after we dressed ourselves up, she laid on my lap to review the photos and videos we took, smiling more times than she realised, at the success of her endeavour.

‘Are you tired now?’

‘Yes. Very.’

‘Let’s go!’

We made our way wearily to the train station, where she asked if I would be available after work the next day, to ‘help’ her out in more adventurous scenes, like public masturbation and a planned ‘toilet tryst’.

How could I NOT be there to help a gorgeous, young lady, right?

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