Strip Tease Art

What happened to the art of strip tease? Every “gentlemen’s” club I visit has erotic dancers. They may start off dressed, but they stop dancing to take off whatever clothes they take off and then go back to dancing.

There is Burlesque, but Burlesque is so focused on it’s “art” that it is not really erotic stripping.

This video is from quite a few years ago. It was taken from a show that featured supposedly amateur strippers in a strip off competition. As you can see, this is not Burlesque, and it is more than simply erotic dancing.

I wish there was more of this available for people like me who really enjoy it.

Tiger Stripe Tattoo Part III

Our talking contains more and more innuendo. I use words that should be innocent, but she and I both know those words are far from innocent. I challenge her. I challenge her sexual prowess so subtly that she does not see it for the challenge that it really is. She sees it as innocent, but still she wants to prove herself. She wants to prove that she is a better lover than I am. That she can make me worship her.

The last thought breaks through her resistance. She leaves me long enough to talk to the manager. She returns and tells me to follow her. She takes me to a small room that is barely lit. Old chairs take up most of the space. She pushes me down into one of the chairs and gets onto her knees before me. In moments she has my pants undone and my hard cock out. She wastes no time in sucking me. Taking me deep into her mouth, she is intent to show me how good she is.

She is really good. She knows how to use her mouth and tongue. She worships my cock with her lips. I know I still have the advantage though. I can feel her body tremble with lust. I know I have her. I place one hand on her head. I let that hand slip over the back of her head to her shoulder. I push the hair out of my way and come back up the back of her neck. My fingertips tickle the hairs on the back of her neck. My fingers intertwine into her hair as I take a fistful of her hair.

She clearly feels my grip on her hair and I use it to fuck her lips. I take control from her sucking my cock and feed it to her instead. Her body nearly shakes with desire.

I pull her head up and she is powerless to resist me. Her lips are still parted and she is nearly panting for breath. I kiss her hard. My lips smash into her lips, my tongue pushes between her parted lips. She moans against me and tries to move her body up against me. My free hand reaches to her back and unsnaps the bra.

“Stay on your knees,” I command. She obeys.

I stand and move behind her without losing my grip on her hair. I push her head forward to the chair as I kneel behind her. I trace a line down her back, through the crease between her ass cheeks, and directly to the thin cloth covering her pussy. I can feel the dampness through the material. I have her right where I want her, and she has me right where she wants me. I cannot touch a wet pussy and not have it.

I release her hair and quickly strip the thong off. She tenses and sighs when the head of my cock rubs her clit. She inhales as I slide it into her. I place both hands on her hips and pull my cock into her cunt. Peru holds herself steady, allowing me to do the work, allowing me to set the pace. I let her juices coat my cock. Moving back and forth enough to make sure my cock is completely covered and slippery inside of her.

I release everything and thrust into her hard. My body slams against her ass hard enough to push her head onto the chair. She grabs the chair with both arms and holds tight. I get into a rhythm, thrusting hard into her, making her ass quiver every time my body slams into her. She gasps and moans every time my cock hits all the way inside of her. Her body shudders with every thrust. Her moans and gasps keep getting louder until she clearly doesn’t care if anyone can hear us over the music.

She cums on my cock, her body rocked by shudders. Her head falls onto the chair, and her arms hold on weakly. I keep pounding my cock into her. I keep slamming my body into her ass. I hold her hips tight, forcing my cock into her hard over and over again while she just keeps cumming.

I have to give her a chance to breathe though. I have to admit I can’t keep thrusting into her like this over and over. I pull out of her, turn her around and sit her on the chair. I easily slide back into her. I go slower this time, focusing on the sensation of her pussy around my cock. Focusing on her legs wrapped around my waist, and the look of lustful pleasure expressed on her face and in her eyes. I let my orgasm build. I build with it.

When I know I cannot stop it, I thrust faster, willing her to cum with me. She can’t help it. Her body can’t resist cumming on me again. I pull her body to me and she wraps her arms around my neck. I cum inside of her, my cock throbbing against her clit. She cums with me, and holds me close.

When the orgasm subsides, she keeps me there. She keeps her arms around my neck, her fingertips caressing the back of my neck. I feel her nipples brush my chest with every deep breath she takes as she tries to get her breath back. I feel her breath blowing against my neck and shoulder, as we just sit there holding each other.

She turns her head and kisses my ear. “You got me this time, but next time you are mine,” she promises.

Tiger Stripe Tattoo Part II

She regains her control and takes over with the next man. Her laugh comes out so naturally. Her smile is so vivid, and I can see that he is worshipping her. His eyes look at her body with such longing that I imagine it may feel painful. She knows she has him. This man belongs to her. She has all of them. During this dance, they all belong to her, all except for one. She knows that one man does not belong to her.

She moves back to center stage. She performs for everyone at once. The bra is removed. Her nipples are clearly hard. Does she feel a chill in the air? Does she feel aroused by the attention and worship of the men at the edge of the stage? Or does she feel aroused knowing that there is one she does not control?

She removes the thong panties. She looks amazing in the nude. I can understand why the other men are worshipping her, pining for her attention. I won’t though. She will give me her attention or she won’t. I won’t beg for it. I know me too well, and I know too well how much pleasure I can give. I know too well that I will find a woman who will receive that pleasure. It is her choice on whether or not she wants to get that experience.

The next dancer comes to the stage. She does not catch my attention the way that Peru did. She does not express the same interest, and the same interaction with the audience. She has a lovely body and pretty face. She has an ass that just begs to be grabbed and squeezed with both hands. But she is keeping herself apart. Like she is not interested or does not want to be there. I place the money on the stage for her. I will still respect that she is working, that this is her job.

Peru comes to me. She bypasses the other men and comes to sit with me. It is the clear sign that I captured her attention just as she captured mine. She sits so she can see me without turning to me fully. She seems shy. I welcome her company. We talk about mundane things. We talk about work, about life, about what the weather holds in store.

I watch as she relaxes into the conversation. She is smart, and I keep the conversation matched to her. I listen when she talks. Letting the sound of her voice flow into my fantasies where I allow myself to imagine the sounds of her voice in pleasure.

The glint of desire returns to my eyes. Maybe she sees the difference, or maybe she just senses something different. The conversation shifts. I can sense the changes in her also. She wants and she does not want. She feels desire for a stranger and she only knows him by one name. She doesn’t know him, but she wants him. I can feel her desire increasing, pushing against her preset boundaries. Her own desire works to break down her resistance.

Tiger Stripe Tattoo Part I

Her name is Peru. She is a beautiful woman. I watched her hair brush against the tops of her shoulders as she danced. My eyes moved lower as I watched the way her hips swayed with the music.

This dance is her job. It is what she does for a living. The only clothing she wears is her matching bra and thong panties, and her high heel shoes. She knows how to use her eyes, looking brazenly into the eyes of every customer. She knows how to use her smile, daring any of us to believe she is not enjoying herself on the dance floor. Daring us to believe she does not appreciate us sitting there watching her perform.

She knows how to use her hands. She caresses her skin, running her hands up and down her body, drawing our eyes to her tits, drawing us to her pussy, and drawing us in to the appreciation of her bare skin.

She has several flowing and colorful tattoos artistically placed on her body. The tattoos flow and move with her body as she dances. I cannot tell what the patterns are. I am looking too much at her eyes, and at her body overall.

She lowers to her hands and knees to crawl across the stage. The designs take on a new appearance. They are like stripes across her ribs, with flowing designs down her thighs. She has become a tigress, and she does not know it. Her movements are so sultry, so seductive, with that feeling of feline danger and desire.

Of all the men there, I know I am different. I know I look at her differently. I see them worshipping her body, wishing for her attention. I watch her on her hands and knees. I look at her beautiful curved ass and I want to get on my knees beside her and spank her. I want to feel my hand striking her ass several times. I want to watch my hand when it hits and watch as her ass shakes from the strike and her body moves forward slightly. I want to watch her head as she holds herself in that zone of pleasure and pain.

I look at her hair, and I want to reach up the back of her neck, tickling her as I do, and grab a fistful of her hair and hold her head steady for my lips. I want to hold her neck fully exposed to my tongue and gentle nips with my teeth. I want to feel her pulse on my lips. I want to feel her breath through her throat.

She comes to me, moving in close to show me her body, to flirt with me, to use her will to get me to give her money. I will give her money. This is her job, it is what she does. She performs for the men who pay her to perform.

She looks into my eyes. She takes a long lingering look. She is doing her best. She knows this game, this job, that she is doing, and she is doing well. I am still different though. I am not mesmerized into worshipping her. To worship her is to give over more than I would otherwise. I am not there. I still see me taking her. I still me making her mine. I see me making her a slave to the pleasure I know I can give her.

“What do you see?” I ask her while she looks into my eyes.

“Hmmmm, something nice.” She replies

“That depends on your definition of nice.” I tell her as the glint of danger lurks in my eyes within the shadowy room. I sense her breath catch. She looks again, and I can see her cheeks flush as the impact of my words reach into her body.

Her smile becomes less certain, as she breaks contact to move to the next man. She turns her head for one more look before she moves away. The game changed, and she knows it changed. In a brief moment, her control faltered. In the next moments, she has to decide if she wants to push back to regain that control, or give in to letting me have control.