Mental Stage

By Leah Baroque

I'm walking down the aisle in a half-cup push-up bra and a G-string. They're both covered in fluffy leopard skin and make me feel extra wild. The men are lined up at every edge of the stage, sitting down eating their meals. I get onto my hands and knees, leaning my cleavage out toward the extended $5 note. He pushes it under the strap, between my breasts. I smile in thanks. On my knees I shuffle around and shake my butt in the face of another anonymous male. He pulls my G-string out, slips the money under the strap, and then lets it go so it snugly resumes its position between my butt cheeks.

Several more hands extend money. It gets stuffed underneath my skimpy costume, and I pick up the notes covering the stage before exiting. It's time for a costume change. Out the back I remove the money and stuff it into my tin. I've made a small fortune tonight, and the best is yet to come. I slip off the bra and G-string and look through my rack of costumes, choosing a tasseled number, electric blue in color. I take a few sips from my glass of water and slip on the new costume, noticing how wet I'm getting from this performance.

I roll over in bed, semi-conscious and very aroused. I run my fingers down to my pussy. The wetness is pouring out. I close my eyes and make my way back out to the stage.

I race out, my heels clicking on the tiled floor, up the steps and then I'm back on stage. The men cheer. They haven't really touched their meals. They're not here for the food -- they're here for me. The food is merely a decoy to give the club more credibility. It's an excuse to tell those who would rather they weren't here, wives or girlfriends. I begin to shake my body, mesmerizing them with the flying tassels.

I push my fingers inside myself, soaking. I need to feel something hard inside of me.

I pick up a blunt butter knife not being used, pushing the handle-end inside of me. It feels cold.

The dildo is cold compared to my hot pussy. It feels so good. Within a few thrusts, it's warm.

The men cheer at this act of penetration. More notes are thrown to the stage. I drop the knife and a hand instantly retrieves it, a little souvenir. I peel away my bra, tossing it behind me. I get down on my knees. Hands come out and pinch my nipples. I get on my hands and knees. A pair of hands pulls away the G-string and it's thrown over my head, landing in someone's lap. The same pair of hands traces a line from my ass to my clit and back again. This interactive audience has me dripping.

I'm dripping.

Soon a finger is gently probing my cunt, in and out. I begin to moan. Over the cheering I can hear zippers coming down. I look behind me and see a condom being rolled onto an anonymous cock. It's an unspoken but mutual agreement. The men are going wild. The cock enters me, I release a guttural groan of pleasure.

I push the dildo further inside my cunt.

I look around at the men in front of me, a blur of hands stroking hard cocks. I reach out with one hand, opening my mouth, a physical plea for something to suck on. My wish is fulfilled as a condom-covered cock is presented at my open lips. I take the head in my mouth and suck on the strawberry-flavored rubber.

I thrust harder with my dildo.

He grabs my hips and starts thrusting. My clit is on fire. Hands reach out and play with my tits. I feel like a prize, and I love it. Anonymous fingers rub my clit. I push against them and then pull away, savoring the moment, not wanting to come just yet. There are so many moving fingers; whatever way I move my clit I cannot escape the rubbing sensations.

I put the vibrator on high, roll it around my clit, keeping the dildo as far inside of me as it can go. I buck and writhe in pleasure. A satisfied moan escapes my lips as my cunt convulses around the plastic toy.

When I've caught my breath I take out the dildo, pick up the vibrator, and skip to the bathroom to clean them both, have a shower, and start my day.