Use your mouth

"Good choice sweetie," you coo in his ear before getting up and leading the way. You sway your hips as you walk, giving him a good look at your firm ass, your belly fluttering with excitement at what you're about to do.

You remember being called a whore during sex play by a boyfriend, and a few times during arguments with other women, but you've never really taken it seriously. Now, however, you're about to sell yourself to a stranger. That's pretty much the definition of whore, isn't it Lisa? Part of your mind scolds you for your shamelessness, while the bigger part and your entire body is intensely excited by the idea.

You lead Darren down a short hallway to an open door, gesturing him inside with a smile. There's a wide black leather couch with a low coffee table in front of it, and two leather arm chairs. A flat screen TV is on the wall, the remote laying on the table. You've been told that it shows continuous porn if you turn it on, but decide to leave it off for now.

"Shut the door sweetie," you purr, stepping up to Darren and stroking your slim fingers down his shirt, smiling up at him. He nods nervously and pushes it shut with his heel. "So what did you have in mind...Darren? What did you want to do with me?"

"I was thinking...you'd...use your mouth," he stammers, blushing slightly, his eyes roaming over your breasts.

"Mmmm, that sounds like fun," you coo. "I'll dance for you....and show you what I can do....then show you what I can really do." You give him a sultry grin, watching him lick his lips nervously as he looks at you.

"You get comfortable, sweetie," you coo, standing on your toes to give him a peck of a kiss. "You sit in that chair and make yourself at home." You saunter over to a wall, switch giving him a sultry look over your shoulder, then turn a switch start the music.

"We can have some porn on the TV if you want, sweetie."

"Uhh..no...no thanks...you're...you're more than enough," he says, watching you move sinuously towards him.

"Awww, you're so sweet," you coo, straddling his thighs and starting to move to the music, writhing against his lap and letting your stiff, pierced nipples brush against his chest. You put your hands on his shoulders, smiling into his face, brushing your hair against him as you squirm in his lap. His breathing is heavy and deep, his mouth slightly open, clearly excited by your naked proximity.

And the truth is, you're getting more and more excited by your own performance, by the command your beauty and sexuality is giving you over him. You squirm and writhe through three songs, changing positions occasionally to show him your ass, rubbing yourself against the bulge in his pants, feeling your own arousal growing. He sits still as you move, his eyes glistening, his body quivering, beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead. He makes no move to touch you and you decide to tease him further,

"Don't you like me, sweetie?" you purr. "You can touch me...don't you want to touch me?" You pout your lips and look at him from under your eyelashes, and are rewarded by his hands stroking your thighs. His caress is tentative, as if expecting to be reprimanded, his eyes wide as they stare at you. You encourage him with a little moan, throwing your head back and rubbing your breasts against his chest, feeling your stiff nipples harden even more.

You dance the final two numbers in glorious abandon, writhing against him, pressing your flesh against his pudgy body, letting his hands stroke over your thighs and ass. Teasing him mercilessly, you push one breast against his face, looking down at him as you lick your lips. Staring at you, he laps at your nipple, sending a quiver through you, making your writhe and arch your back in a way that's only half acting.

As the song ends you slide down his body, letting your hands trail over it, staring up at his face until you kneel between his thighs, your hands caressing the bulge in his pants. You undo his belt and unzip him, smiling at him as you reach into his boxers and free his cock. He's a decent size, nothing spectacular, but nothing to be ashamed of, and you give him a sultry grin as you stroke the shaft.

"Is this all for me sweetie?" you coo, biting your lip and tilting your head coyly. He grunts and nods, looking at you with ****, clumsy eyes. You lean forward slowly, your eyes never leaving his, your breath hot against his sensitive skin, then slowly start to run your tongue up the underside of his shaft. He quivers as though he's been shocked, and you giggle with appreciation, then gasp as you remember you've forgotten about condoms.

You've left them in your bag in the dressing room.