Madonna

NOTE:- This thread was originally submitted by, and credited to CRISWELL.

Sure enough, the now raven-haired songstress is sashaying her way to your table. She's wearing a sheer long-sleeved shirt, the material revealing her ample cleavage barely contained in a black bra. She also has on a tight black miniskirt and brown boots.

"Hello, love," she says in a coy mock British accent.

"H-hello," you mutter. "You're..."

"That awful actress, yeah," she replies. You laugh with her, but you're still a bit nervous.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Good to meet you, too," she says. There's a brief pause. "Fancy a private dance? We can use one of the booths."

"Really?"

"That's why I'm here tonight. C'mon, we'll have some fun."

You can hardly resist, not that you want to. You get up and take her hand, and she leads you to a staircase. You show your card to an attendant standing nearby, who hands you a card with the number "6" on it.

Madonna eagerly starts skipping up the staircase- you watch her rear end sway invitingly. Midway up she stops and looks to you.

"Keep up, honey," she says. You oblige and walk up next to her- she takes your arm and wraps it around her waist. "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you.'

You continue on up the stairs and down a hall lined with booths on both sides.

"You like my ass, huh?" she continues.

"Well, I like... all of you," you reply, not knowing what to say.

"You'll see it all, baby." She raises her eyebrows in a come hither look.

You reach the booth and slide the numbered card through it. You both enter a decent sized room with couches on both sides. Several small TV monitors hang down from the ceiling. Across from the door is a glass wall, and on that a table with a computer screen and several buttons on it.

"F's for a female waitress, M's for male, D is to give drink orders," Madonna says. "You don't need anything, do you lover?"

You shake your head. You don't want to blur your vision. You see a cabinet near the door- opening it, you see condoms, lotion, even some toys. You take a condom out just in case.

"Now, get comfy," says Madonna, guiding you to a couch. She goes to a panel on the glass wall and opens it up, revealing a small control console.

"Lights," she says, bringing down the overhead lights and creating a small spotlight in the center- it's not really dark, just moody. "And music," she continues. "You don't mind if I play one of my own songs? I know it sounds like I'm an egomaniac, but I just love dancing to this one."

"Go ahead," you say.

"Thanks," she says, wrinkling her nose as she smiles.

She presses a button, closes the panel and moves into the spotlight. From hidden speakers, you start to hear "Express Yourself" play- and instantly Madonna goes into motion, moving and spinning to the fast, uppity beat. Despite being fully clothed, she's already giving you a good hard-on. She turns her back to you and whips up her skirt, revealing her full, thong clad ass. She winks at you before going back into the dance.

With one fluid motion she whips off her shirt and tosses it to the ground. You see her bosom jiggling wildly as she continues shimmying and gyrating. Turning her back again, she launches herself onto your lap and begins kicking off her boots.

"Enjoying the show, I see," she says slyly as she rubs against your erection.

Now barefoot, she gets up again, still facing away, unzips her skirt and slides it off her hips, giving you a close-up of her ass again. Turning around, she grins and places your hands on her hips. She then reaches up, undoes the front clasp of her bra and practically rips it open- you gasp a bit at the sight of those soft, creamy white breasts, topped by hard cherry-red nipples. She tosses the bra behind her and sways rapidly, letting her boobs jiggle, then places her hands on your shoulders and leans in, pushing them into your face. You kiss and lick them eagerly, and she moans in enjoyment as your tongue brushes against her nips.

Finally she leans back up, and pulls down her panties. Her pussy is hairy but well trimmed, a smooth black triangle.

"You're beautiful," you say.

"Well, then, c'mon," she says, straddling your lap. "This isn't just a dance." She grabs the condom and tears off the wrapping, then with one hand starts to undo your pants.

"You do have a husband, right?"

"He knows I need a little fun. That's the kinda girl I am." She grabs your cock and pulls it out. "What a beauty..." She slides the rubber on, lifts herself up and lowers herself onto you with a grunt.

Madonna may not be the tightest girl you've ever had, but her pussy is wonderfully juicy and warm. She wraps her arms around you and begins to buck up and down- you grab hold of her ass and try your best to keep from cumming, despite being more turned on than you've ever been since your first time.

You kiss her fiercely and she does likewise. You move one hand up and begin to knead her left breast, then break yourself off from her mouth and start to kiss all around her neck. She starts to pant and moan ever more loudly, pumping faster and faster, sweat glistening off her forehead. She quivers in your hands, and with a final gasp and moan seems to collapse in orgasm. She sits still for a moment, then looks up at you, grins, and starts to grind herself against you once more.

"Now it's your turn," she whispers lustily, humping you with renewed vigor. You try to keep holding on- you don't know how long you've been at this now- but she's just too good. With one explosive release, you cum.

Briefly you lie there intertwined. She then pulls herself off, and lies beside you, stroking your now flaccid cock.

"That was wonderful, baby," she says. "Most guys don't last that long the first time."

"Thanks. You- well, you're amazing," you reply.

Madonna turns her attention back to your cock. "Let's give the little guy a rest for a bit. Not too long, though." Indeed it seems to be hardening in her hands as she works off the used rubber.

"So," she says, "what do you want to do next?"