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My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5’5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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Sex always seemed to be a contest for Lisa and Trey, a competition of imagination or stamina or daring or flexibility. Who could do what, where, how, the most?

To him she seemed to be a dream come true. An attractive older woman with no apparent inhibitions who floated into his life three or four times a year and then disappeared with out a trace. He suspected that she was a celebrity of some sort and that added spice to an already hot relationship.

He seemed like a child to her. A well-hung, sexually talented child who drew astonishing responses from her body. She enjoyed the relationship. There was something inexplicably delicious about playing the role of a “woman of mystery.”

They walked hand in hand through the intermittent drizzle into the nearly-deserted city zoo. Her full breasts bounced gently beneath the fabric of her lavender blouse which was tucked into a long flowing skirt beneath which she wore nothing at all. She was already wet with anticipation. “Where’s the aviary?”

He grinned, “What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to see the wild animals?”

“Only one, dear. Only one.” They took the path up the hill and entered the net-covered aviary. The gravel path wound through dense foliage in which all manner of brightly colored birds perched. There were concrete benches set back into the foliage at irregular intervals along the path.

This had been an excellent choice. There was no one around and even the normally raucous birds were somewhat subdued by the rain.

He chose a bench midway along the path and sat facing the direction of the entrance, then pulled her to stand before him and raised her skirt. He stroked the wiry red-brown curls that framed her pussy, ran a finger lightly over her long inner lips which protruded slightly, a deep rosy pink and slippery wet.

She lifted her leg, putting one foot on the bench beside him and reached down and pulled her inner lips wide apart, opening herself to his eyes and fingers and mouth. She felt his warm hands cupping her ass and then the sweet shock as velvet met velvet, his tongue moved tenderly around and over her clit and he sucked at it gently.

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Jennifer was a frosh at Jefferson College, and so far she liked it a lot. As she walked down toward the gym, she smiled to herself at the California weather. It was nothing like the weather in Alaska. Here it was, the middle of February, and she could walk around in shorts without worrying about freezing to death. Others complained that it was cold and told her she was a nut for wearing shorts. Obviously they didn’t come from Alaska like she did. To her, the crisp chill in the air was more refreshing than it was chilling, and she knew that after running around the track a few times, she would actually be hot.

Jennifer liked to run; it was a good way to keep in shape, and it was a good way to daydream while still being productive. She was a good student and very responsible, and this was her way to escape the constant academic pressures she put upon herself. She could jog around the track a few times, letting her body do the work while her mind wandered onto other things. Others wouldn’t believe her, but running relaxed her. (Her roommate thought she was crazy, but then again, Jenny’s roommate was a plump girl who looked like she had never exercised a day in her life.)

Jenny was wearing a tank top and a loose fitting pair of shorts. Underneath the shorts, she wore a pair of those tight-fitting bike pants, made of the stretchy black material. This was mostly to keep her warm, and to keep her decent. Plus, whenever she ran in panties, they got all drenched in her sweat and basically became too disgusting to wear. Similarly, under her tanktop, Jenny wore a tightfitting elastic top over her breasts. The reason for this was that she hated the feeling of running in the discomfort of a bra, and if she wore nothing, she bounced, and that became painful after awhile.

Jenny was happy with her body, unlike most women, and this happiness gave her a very visible confidence. This confidence almost did more to make her attractive than her actual physical appearance. Jenny had dark hair and tan skin, and a nice smile. When she had first arrived on campus, men had swarmed around her, mostly frat guys checking out the new women, but Jenny had made it through without acquiring any boyfriends. She was not one that had to have a boyfriend; on the whole, she preferred not to, as they took up a lot of time and never seemed to be much worth it. She didn’t need the time-drain. Yes, Jenny would only settle for a boyfriend that she actually loved, and the frat guys soon gave up on her, disgusted, and moved to other prey.

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I’ve spoken with other people about their “first time” and asked questions like when, where, how it happened, what was it like, etc. Talking about those types of things is guaranteed to keep my attention. But I’ve never gone into detail about my own experience. I’ve talked about it in a general sense, but have never described the whole experience the way it exists in my memory. I’d like to tell the story now. Although I could start at the point where everything actually happened, it is necessary to back up so that you can understand what happened and also see why. For this reason I need to relate the sequence of events that led up to my story:

I had known Amy for years, ever since I was about five or six years old. She lived across the street from myself and my mother, and used to baby-sit me. I would stay at her house from the time I got home from school until my mother came home from work. Amy was able to do this since she didn’t work. She was fifteen years older than I, and our relationship was almost like that of a little brother/big sister. We touched each other; hugs and kisses were exchanged frequently. As a single parent, my mother had very little spare time to spend with me. After she came home she had to get supper ready, and there was always housework or laundry to do. My bedtime was 9:00 until I turned thirteen, which meant that I might see my mother for two or three hours at most. Since Amy had no children of her own back then, she was able to spend a lot of time with me.

I can remember sitting on her lap while she helped me with my homework. We played games together. I learned how to throw and hit a baseball in her back yard. We wrestled all the time; the kind of stuff a kid does. When I was twelve her son was born. Two or three years later she and her husband split up. She received some child care support from him, but not much. Because of that, she went to work. At that time there weren’t any day care centers, and I don’t think she could have afforded them anyway. She worked part time on the evening shift in a hospital (from 4 to 10) but had to work every other weekend.

After she went back to work my job was to baby-sit David, her son. I was paid $3.00 a night, which was a bargain for her and a lot of money for me. I got home from school around 3:00, changed my clothes, and walked across the street. She would get home a little after 10, and I would then go back home. Often I would stay there and we would just chat. If she went out after work (or stayed out late on a weekend night) I would sleep in the guest bed at her house, sharing a room with David.

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In retrospect, I should have known that his plans for the evening were more elaborate than he’d told me. They always are. But I went into it thinking that we were simply having dinner with a friend of his, a man he referred to as an excellent conversationalist and a ‘fun’ person.

I wore almost-normal clothes — a long skirt with high-heeled boots, scoop necked silk shirt with a pendant in the shape of his mark. My buttocks still tingled from the spanking he’d given me earlier, and I could feel a bruise swelling gently on my thigh where he’d bitten me. There was a certain extra thrill in feeling the aches and throbs in my body after he had done with me. I relished them as a secret thrill when people saw us together, for we were close friends and no one knew of the deeper relationship we shared.

The man he introduced to me as Orion was already seated in a booth at the restaurant when we arrived. He was tall and slim, with a stern countenance and icy grey eyes that thawed a little when he smiled. My master ordered for me, and this was my first clue that something was up. He ordered a light, easily digestible meal which alerted me to the fact that I would possibly need to be ready for action before long. Or he could simply be teasing me…

But no.

He and Orion chatted easily over their wine. I sat back and enjoyed the witty conversation, relishing the feel of my master’s leg against mine. He was not paying much attention to me, other than to smile at me occasionally or feed me a morsel of food from his plate. I began to relax, the wine making me feel mellow and a little sleepy.

Suddenly his head snapped around and when I looked into his eyes I knew the game was about to begin. Still, I was stunned when he slapped my face lightly and ordered me to go to the restroom and remove my underwear.

My face must have showed my amazement. How could he talk to me like this in front of Orion? No one knew of our relationship save my master and me, his slave. And now he was ordering me around in front of a man I had just met!

My hesitation seemed to anger Orion, because he leaned over the table and grabbed my face in his hands, squeezing my cheeks painfully. His eyes were frosty.

“Do you hesitate, little one? Most unwise.”

My head immobile, I looked pleadingly, shocked, at my master, but he met my frightened eyes with a glare. He wanted it this way!

As I left the table, I felt a tear slide down my cheek. It was a salt sister to the moisture between my legs.

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