Her (and my) first striptease

We take off our shoes and Heather leads me to the living room at the back of the house. To my surprise, the curtains are closed and the lights are on. It’s bright enough to see, but not by much. “Somebody forgot to turn off the lights,” I observe.

“Hush,” Heather says absently, and before I can open my mouth again, she finds a better use for it than talking. I wrap a hand around one of her ass cheeks and squeeze, pulling her tight to me. I’m afraid of messing up her hair, so I cup her neck with the other. We kiss deeply and hungrily, but slowly; we have all the time we need, and both of us clearly want to savor everything. I revel in the softness of her lips and the quickness of her tongue, the faint spiciness of her perfume and the sheer warm there-ness of her in my arms.

I don’t know how long we stand there making out, but eventually the temptation of Heather’s perfect tits, still stretching her black sweater, becomes too much. I run my hand down her back, but when I shift it around to touch her chest, she breaks off and spins out of my grip. “Not—yet,” she says breathily, her face a little flushed. “I want—there’s something I want to do for you. I’ve never—I want to do something for you I’ve never done for anyone else.” She guides me to the sofa and pushes me down in the middle. “Wait here,” she says, and walks quickly out of the room.

What’s going on? I wonder. As my eyes adjust to the lower light, I notice the chair sitting maybe five feet in front of me. It’s a sturdily-built thing—one of the kitchen-table chairs, I think. Another odd data point.

My whirling thoughts are interrupted by a burst of music: Katy Perry’s “Firework.” I look up in startlement to see Heather strutting before me in black high heels, hands on hips, elbows a little back. She’s moving like a model on a catwalk, stepping on the off beat, feet in a near-perfect line. Her head is high, her shoulders back and down—perfect singing posture, she told me once—her breasts thrust out high and proud. For some reason, I notice that her nipples are visible bullets stretching her sweater. Then I look up, and her eyes capture mine.

The bass beat kicks in, and the vocals, and Heather is singing along, eyes locked on mine. She’s singing to me.

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?

She stops near the chair, swaying her hips. One hand stays there, playing over the curve of her hip, then wandering to caress her ass or tease the line from her hip to her pussy. The other trails lightly up her side, fingertips just touching. She runs her fingers up the front of her breast, barely brushing the nipple, and up and around to the back of her neck.

You just gotta ignite the light and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July

’Cause, baby, you’re a firework
Come on, show ’em what you’re worth
Make ’em go, “Oh, oh, oh,”
As you shoot across the sky

I stare at Heather, mesmerized; I barely blink. I watch everything she’s doing—I can see her gaining confidence from my reaction; I can see her starting to relax into the music and her dance, enjoying her effect on me. Her movements grow more fluid, looking spontaneous rather than studied. She gyrates her hips and lightly strokes both tits, then cups them briefly with her hands before turning her back to me.

Baby, you’re a firework
Come on, let your colors burst
Make ’em go, “Oh, oh, oh,”
You’re gonna leave ’em all in awe, awe, awe

Heather keeps her eyes on mine, looking sexily over her shoulder, as she bends forward, thrusting out her ass and wiggling it at me. I can see the seam up the back of her stocking as her long, toned legs flex. She reaches a hand back to squeeze one flawless globe, then takes the hem of her skirt and slowly lifts it, showing me—the top of her stocking and a metal clip. She dips a fingertip under the stocking, stroking the skin for just a moment. I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my life, and I haven’t even seen her with her shirt off yet.

She spins back to face me as the song comes to an end, and I assume that’s the end of the show. Instead, I hear a pounding heartbeat, a long beep, and Kelly Clarkson in passionate unison with Heather Innis-Jones on “Heartbeat Song.”

This is my heartbeat song and I’m gonna play it
Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long
Up up all night long

Heather raises her arms to cross her wrists above her head. Her hips pick up the tempo, and her body writhes and flows to the music like a single flame.

You, where the hell did you come from?
You’re a different, different kind of fun
And I'm so used to feeling numb

She lowers her hands and starts unbuttoning her sweater—agonizingly slowly; maybe one button per measure? I can hear the emotion throbbing in her voice as she sings.

Now, I’ve got pins and needles on my tongue
Anticipating what’s to come
Like a finger on a loaded gun

I can feel it rising
Temperature inside me
Haven’t felt it for a long time

My cock is trying to tear its way out of my pants. I’d felt teased enough before we walked in the door here, and now the woman is doing this to me? I may explode just watching her. As Heather undoes each button, she takes the time to spread her sweater, gradually opening her cleavage. When her bra comes into view, I see black lace that covers her sweet melons barely to the nipples and obscures far less than that.

This is my heartbeat song and I’m gonna play it
Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long
Up up all night long
This is my heartbeat song and I’m gonna play it
Turned it on but I know you can take it up up up up all night long
Up up all night long

Once the last button is gone, Heather leans forward with her arms straight and her hands on her knees, leaving the sweater hanging open, her tits hanging down, and me with a view right through her ample cleavage. She shimmies, and I forget how to breathe for a moment. I would never have imagined anyone could look so sultry while singing.

Until tonight I only dreamed about you
I can’t believe I ever breathed without you
Baby you make me feel alive and brand new
Bring it one more time, one more time

Heather straightens up and spins around, then strikes a pose with her head and shoulders back and her arms behind her, letting the sweater slip down her body. She grabs it at the last moment and whips it once, then twice, around her head before spinning back to face me and tossing the sweater in my direction.

This is my heartbeat song and I’m gonna play it
Been so long I forgot how to turn it up up up up all night long
Up up all night long

She gyrates her hips and runs her hands up and down her sides and belly, brushing the undersides of her boobs, then teasing at the closure of her wrap skirt. She slips her fingers under the waist of the skirt, thumbs out, and slides them around behind to rest on her ass cheeks; she turns sideways, leaning forward a little and arching her back to thrust out her tits, pressing her elbows back. Heather holds that pose for a moment, then continues her turn and starts pushing her skirt down over her ass. Once she’s exposed the waistband of her lacy black panties, she pulls her hands out, thrusts her hips back, and wiggles her tight round ass at me, gazing into my eyes over her shoulder. I’m suddenly struck by the depth of desire in that look—and even more by the love I see there. I have to close my eyes for a moment to keep myself under control.

This is my heartbeat song and I’m gonna play it
Turned it on but I know you can take it up up up up all night long
Up up all night long

When I open them again, Heather gives a quick push and sends her skirt slithering to the floor. She steps out of it and kicks it toward the sofa and off to the side. A random thought comes to me through the erotic overpressure as I watch her sashaying around the chair in her black lingerie: I don’t think this is typical music for a striptease. I could be wrong, since I have no experience with them, but slower stuff would be easier for her to match. She didn’t pick songs to suit the striptease, I realize. She picked the songs she wanted to sing to me and worked with them. Somehow, my cock gets even harder at the thought.

Heather slips a hand into her panties (which she’s wearing over her garter belt) and visibly frigs herself as she thrusts her hips toward me and squeezes a tit with her other hand. She shifts her hand to pull her panties up and aside, giving me a teasing flash, then grabs her other tit. She bends forward, pressing her ample tits together and teasing her nipples, then straightens up, turns her back to me, and snaps one of the garters running over her ass.

The music changes again, slowing back down a little as it explodes into the synthesizers and drum machines of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” Heather dances with it, moving her body sinuously and sensuously, her hands crossed over her heaving chest. She plays with her bra straps, sliding a finger under one and pushing it down, then lifting her arm up over the top of her head, pushing the strap back into place. She traces the edge of the fabric over the swells of her breasts, then dips her hands into the cups to touch her nipples.

Oh! I wanna dance with somebody
I wanna feel the heat with somebody
Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody
With somebody who loves me

Heather pushes a bra strap down over her shoulder again, but this time, she pulls her arm out of it in a fluid motion that she manages to make sensual. She does the same to the other one, then turns her back to me. With her eyes still locked on mine over her shoulder, she arches her back, pointing her tits to the sky, and slowly unhooks the clasps of her bra. When the last one is undone, she lets it hang free for a moment, the cups still hooked over her perfect peaks.

I need a man who’ll take a chance
On a love that burns hot enough to last

She straightens up and tosses the bra over the back of the chair, then turns to face me with her hands covering her chest. As Heather dances and sings along with Whitney, caressing herself and playing peek-a-boob with me, the raw need in her voice is stronger than ever. She squeezes her tits, flashes me with her nipples, and sings me her heart.

Heather turns her back to me again as she uncovers her tits, reaching out to pull the bra back off the chair. She whips it around her head and keeps turning, making a complete circle, then strutting toward me like sexuality incarnate. When she gets close enough to touch, she whips her bra around the back of my neck and grabs the free end with her other hand, using it as a leash to pull me to my feet.

Oh! I wanna dance with somebody
I wanna feel the heat with somebody
Yeah! I wanna dance with somebody
With somebody who loves me

She drops the bra around my neck and uses both hands to undo my belt. She yanks it out of my pants, holding on to the buckle and letting the end fly free, then drapes it around her neck. She opens my pants, spreads the fly, and hooks her hands into the waistband of my underwear. She grinds her panty-covered mound against me and rubs her tits against my chest as she slowly pushes my jeans down over my ass, squeezing as she goes. She pushes them down as far as she can, then breaks off singing for a moment to lean forward and murmur in my ear, “Get those off, baby.” She pushes me back onto the couch. I comply with her wishes as she spins around and struts back to the chair.

The music changes again, slowing a little more as it shifts into the bluesy guitars and backbeat of “Something to Talk About.” Heather grinds against the back of the chair as she sings along with Bonnie Raitt’s marvelously smoky voice. She does a slide step away and starts rubbing her clit through her visibly-wet panties, undulating her hips in a way that suggests she’s starting to lose control of herself. She pushes down the front of her waistband, enough to show just a hint of her bush, then swings herself around.

Let’s give ’em something to talk about
Let’s give ’em something to talk about, babe
Let’s give ’em something to talk about
How about love?

Heather thrusts out her ass at me and gropes herself with both hands, then peels her waistband down to just below the curve of her ass.

I feel so foolish, I never noticed
You’d act so nervous, could you be falling for me?

She slips two fingers into her slit from behind and plays with herself for a moment, then pulls them out dripping wet.

It took the rumor to make me wonder
Now I’m convinced I’m going under

She paints a nipple with her juices, then rests that hand on the back of the chair for balance as she sends her panties sliding to the floor.

Thinking ’bout you every day
Dreaming ’bout you every night
I’m hoping that you feel the same way
Now that we know it, let’s really show it, darling

Heather swings herself gracefully into the chair. I’m not sure how she manages it, but she ends up leaning back with one foot on the seat, her other ankle resting across that raised knee, and her panties dangling from her elevated foot. She pulls them off, stands up, and kicks off her heels. She struts up to me, hands me the dripping black lace, and puts one foot on the couch between my legs. She teases my balls with her toes while she unclips her stocking; she sings softly right into my ear as she rolls it down off her leg. She pulls her foot out of it, then repeats the process with the other stocking.

Let’s give ’em something to talk about
A little mystery to figure out, babe
Let’s give ’em something to talk about
How about love?

She struts back to the chair, swinging her naked ass, and sits down again. While she slips one foot back into her shoe, the other one is propped on the seat, knee out to the side, and her hand is in her slit spreading it wide for me. When one shoe is on, she shifts to the mirror-image position to put on her other shoe. Then she puts both feet on the floor, knees wide, and slips two fingers into her fuckhole, rubbing her clit with her thumb. Her voice breaks and her body shudders as she climaxes right in front of me.

When Bonnie Raitt fades out, I gather myself to stand up and bury my face in Heather’s exposed quim—but then I hear the piano chords and drum machine of Savage Garden’s “Truly Madly Deeply.” Heather gathers herself, flows to her feet, and struts up to me. Caressing herself all over and undulating her body with the music, she puts her whole heart into it as she sings along. Physically, she still has a garter belt and heels on; emotionally, she’s completely naked before me.

I’ll be your dream I’ll be your wish
I’ll be your fantasy
I’ll be your hope I’ll be your love
Be everything that you need

She reaches behind her head and pulls out a couple hairpins, then shakes out her hair; it tumbles out to fall in glorious waves over her bare shoulders and back.

I’ll love you more with every breath
Truly, madly, deeply do
I will be strong I will be faithful
'Cause I'm counting on
A new beginning
A reason for living
A deeper meaning, yeah

Heather lays herself back on the sofa, her legs hanging off, her head and torso across my lap. I can’t resist fondling her tits; she doesn’t stop me, though her voice trembles every time I brush one of her nipples.

I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me

And when the stars are shining
Brightly in the velvet sky
I’ll make a wish send it to heaven
Then make you want to cry
The tears of joy for all the
Pleasure and the certainty
That we’re surrounded by the
Comfort and protection of
The highest powers
In lonely hours
The tears devour you

I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me

Heather sits up and swings herself off the sofa, then straddles my lap. She rubs herself lightly against my prick, which is longer and harder than it has ever been; she interlaces her fingers behind my head and balances herself by pulling me to her chest. It feels like I’ve waited forever for this moment as I capture a nipple with my lips and suck it into my mouth. Her whole body shudders, but somehow she keeps singing.

Oh can you see it baby?
You don’t have to close your eyes
’Cause it's standing right before you
All that you need will surely come

I’ll be your dream I’ll be your wish
I’ll be your fantasy
I’ll be your hope I’ll be your love
Be everything that you need
I’ll love you more with every breath
Truly, madly, deeply do

I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me

Finally, Heather can’t take it anymore. Leaving Darren Hayes to sing the last chorus alone, she shifts backward and slides off my lap to the floor. She wraps her big, supple tits around my cock and her full, sweet lips around its tip and sucks hard, licking the underside with her tongue; her eyes are still fixed on mine. She gets what she’s looking for: my orgasm blows like Vesuvius. She keeps sucking hard and swallowing as I keep erupting in her mouth, filling her with blast after blast of cream. I’ve never cum so hard or so long—not even close.

When I’m finally done, Heather sits back in deep satisfaction. She opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue so I can see it, still covered in my cum. She uses two fingers to scoop up the ropes that escaped despite her best efforts, pops them in her mouth, and swallows the whole. “Mmmm,” she says in deep satisfaction. “I love you, baby.”

I look down at her in awe and wonder. All I can do is whisper, “I love you too.”