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WARNING: This is an Incest Category story which includes graphic sex scenes between consenting, adult (over 18) family members. Please click away now if this is not what you were expecting.
Thursday, August 31st 2006, The ‘Cock Pit’
“It’s fucking crazy out there.” I looked up to see Philippe standing next to me, his golden, heavily muscled torso glistening with sweat.
“You’re losing it old man,” I told the twenty-two year old hovering above me.
“Old man? Fuck you too junior,” he laughed. “I’m telling you, they’re worse than normal tonight. Don’t any of these broads have boyfriends?”
“Shit, these broads, as you like to call them, are paying your way through university.”
“Horny white chicks…can’t keep their hands off me,” he complained with a wicked grin.
“Shit, you weren’t complaining when you left with those two chubby forty year olds last night.”
“Forty my ass,” he grunted but then added with a happy twinkle in his eyes, “Bitches couldn’t leave King Kong alone. They ate him for breakfast.”
“You always go after the fat, ugly, old ones don’t you? Poor little girls, fall under the influence of the evil, huge cocked black man,” I mocked.
“Fuck you Bobby,” he laughed, “and you better watch out for the girls at table thirty-one.”
“Thirty-one?” I asked, then quickly looked up at the two monitors mounted in the corner of the dressing room, two monitors that gave us a view of the club floor. Us, meaning the dancers at ‘The Cock Pit’, Tampa’s number one male stripper club.
“A wedding stag, five broads out celebrating… they asked for Batman…and little Robin,” he laughed just as my eyes settled on five girls I’d known forever.
“Jeeeesus,” I moaned softly.
Looking at me and then up at the monitor, he asked, curiosity clear in his voice, “You know them?”
“No…no,” I denied as I zeroed in on my sister and her four best friends.
“The skinny blond on the left grabbed my butt, mouthy bitch,” Phil complained as he stood and touched the screen and pointed to Amanda Jones. “The one in the middle’s getting married on Saturday…just wanted to see a big black man before she marries some dork,” he added as he pointed to Chrissie Welsh. A bride-to-be sitting between her four best friends. Jacqui Weathers and Trish Samuels flanked Chrissie. My sister was on the far right.
“She’s hot,” I answered absent mindedly, still trying to digest what I was seeing.
“Shit, are you blind? It’s the willowy, redheaded honey with the great tits on the right that’s hot,” my fellow dancer said as his finger tapped against the screen and the beautiful girl sitting on the right. MY SISTER!
“Yup, yours truly wouldn’t mind giving that little white girl a tour of Africa,” he boasted, grabbing his cock through the thin, silk pouch that struggled to house his penis. “Introduce her to King Kong here,” he laughed.
“Fuck, that little thing,” I scoffed, desperately trying to control my anger, “she wouldn’t even know it was in her.”
All of us joked among ourselves. We’d laugh about the girls, what they’d said and asked, boast to each other about our conquests. We’d hoot and jeer at each others stories, laughingly question the teller’s ability to even get a hard-on. In the dressing room at The Cock Pit no insult was ever out of order.
It was okay though. To work as a dancer at the ‘Pit’ you had to have it and we all knew it. We were the elite, the best, and we all knew we could have our pick of the hundreds and hundreds of women who continually washed through the club.
Every night they whispered it in our ears. ‘You’re sexy’ or ‘want to come home with me?’ or ‘you’re so big’ or a hundred other lines we’d heard a thousand times.
They slipped us their telephone numbers as they stuffed five dollar bills in our thongs, copping a feel every time. So there were never any hard feelings between we dancers as we endlessly joshed each other.
Still I didn’t like the thought of Philippe pumping King Kong into my big sister Natalie. Not one fucking bit!
So what the heck was I, Bobby Cooper, an eighteen year old, about to start my senior year of high school in a week, doing dancing naked for hordes of horny broads? How did it ever happen…
…It was Maria Juanita Cabrera’s fault. I’m serious! Her dark aureoles and long nipples fault. The fault of the golden thighs that came together in a small, neatly trimmed triangle of dark pubic curls that served only to highlight the pink lips that glistened invitingly. Her Cuban hunger for cock. It was happenstance really. What if her raft had never made it to America? Luck?
Tuesday, May 8th, 2006, Club Bizarro
“It’s your birthday? Tonight?” she’d demanded saucily in a Latina accent that made your skin tingle. We’d just watched her dance on the main stage, drooled and punched each others arms as she’d slowly removed her clothes and bared herself for us and the four or five other customers strewn around the taksim rus escort smoky club. Then she’d swaggered over to our table, tits jiggling, hoping to find one of us willing to part with some money.
Somehow, perhaps because it was late and had been a really slow Tuesday night, we’d been able to talk our way past the doorman who normally ferociously guarded the door. He knew we weren’t legal of course, but the lure of the ten bucks my friend Craig dangled and the fake ID’s we flashed were just enough to allow our passage inside. Myself and my two best friends. I’d turned eighteen that day.
“I’m twenty-one,” I answered the girl as I sat up straighter in the chair and pulled my shoulders back.
“More like sixteen,” she laughed as she undid a button on my shirt and slipped her hand onto the bare skin of my chest. Fuck, I’d still had a lingering hard-on from her dances. “I have a special for birthday boys,” she cooed in my ear as she pressed her breast against my arm. She raked her finger nails over my nipples.
“Go for it man!” Craig encouraged from across the table. Jimmy was nodding his head like a fool as he stared at the tits just inches from his face. His jaw was opening and closing rhythmically.
None of us had ever been in a strip club before. Oh, we’d tried a couple of times. But up to tonight with no success. But we weren’t innocents or anything. I mean we all had girlfriends. Shit, we weren’t even virgins. Still, this was a little different… I mean I didn’t really exactly know what to expect. You hear stories and everything…but…
“C’mon birthday boy,” she urged as she grabbed my arm and started to pull me up.
“Where to?” I stammered, both nervous and excited.
“The booths in the back room, for the private lap dances, you dork,” Jimmy said loudly as he pointed towards the back of the club with his Budweiser, all of a sudden a goddamn expert.
“What’s your name baby?” she cooed as she led me.
“Bobby…Bobby Cooper,” I answered, giving her my real name.
“Rrrrroberrrrto,” she purred sexily as she squeezed my hand. “You’re so cute Roberto, so sexy, so tall…and maybe so beeg,” she finished, a question in her voice as she glanced down at my fly. “Very beeg,” she answered herself as she ran her palm across the front of my pants. “I like beeeg,” she promised.
I was in love. I was as hard as a rock. She could call me anything she wanted.
It was dark…not pitch black but you couldn’t see very far in the murkiness of the back room. There were a series of small private booths that lined the wall, booths that had room only for just one person on a soft, plush, upholstered bench. Each booth was shielded from its neighbor and held a dancing stool just waiting for a naked girl to mount it.
For a second, passing an occupied cubicle, I caught a quick glimpse of the back of a naked girl, her body plastered against an unseen man, then Maria pulled me on and led me right to the back, the last and darkest cubicle.
“Sit,” she ordered, then asked, “First time?” Seeing my quick, nervous nod she asked, “Is it really your birthday?” and then hearing my yes said, “How old are you really.”
“Eighteen,” I answered with a timid grin, not sure if that was the best answer. I definitely didn’t want to be kicked out.
“I like eighteen year olds…and you’re so cute,” she whispered, then touched the tip of my nose gently with her finger and mounted the stool she had pushed between my knees. I stared as she slowly shucked her only clothing, a pair of red silk boy shorts. “You’re not allowed to touch this,” she instructed as she pulled her pussy lips apart and opened her sex. It was maybe four inches from my mouth when she uttered those words.
“I’m not?” I croaked, my head involuntarily moving towards her glistening pussy.
“Un uh,” she said, then she slowly slid her body down mine. She held a nipple against my lips for seconds before I tentatively opened my mouth and flicked out my tongue. She didn’t protest as I licked, even encouraged me by cupping the breast and feeding more into my mouth. Then she moved and presented me her other nipple. My hands had somehow slipped to her hips and then moved to grasp her firm bum.
“You’re a bad boy,” she whispered in my ear, then reamed it with a moist, probing tongue.
“It’s okay to touch your breasts?” I finally stammered.
“Only because it’s your birthday,” she giggled throatily, and then lowered herself so her bum was resting on my thighs, trapping my cock uncomfortably.
“Ummm, mucho grande,” she complimented as she looked down between our bodies and then adjusted her butt over my now throbbing cock.
“Its…its sorta uncomfortable…I have to,” I started, wanting to adjust my blood filled shaft.
“I’ll do it Roberrrto,” she purred and I watched silently as her two hands moved down between our bodies and into my lap. Then I watched as she undid the button, watched as she slowly lowered my zipper, then gasped taksim türbanlı escort when she slipped her cool fingers into my briefs and pulled me out.
“Jesus, Maria!” I cried, squirming under her touch.
“Madre mia…he is el grande,” she said delightedly as my prick, finally free, sprang upward between our stomachs.
She kissed me quickly, then before I could move dipped her head down into my lap. Oh fuck! Okay I had a girlfriend, and I had, technically speaking, made love to her once. In the back seat of her daddy’s car. But I’d never felt a wet tongue on my cock. Never had I felt moist, painted lips kiss the end of my penis and then slowly suck it into her mouth.
I was in heaven! Shit, I didn’t last long. I couldn’t. Suddenly I felt the tightening in my balls that was immediately translated into an explosion of cum up my bulging, throbbing cock.
She mumbled something as I splashed the first thick strand of cum into her mouth and throat. But it didn’t sound like a complaint. One of her small hands went to my tightened sack and slowly worked my balls while her other hand clenched the half of my penis not in her mouth and pumped me, timing her squeezes to match each of my bucking ejaculations.
Sweet fucking Jesus!
“I’m finished at one,” Maria finally said, a strand of my cum dangling from the corner of her mouth.
“Finished what?” I mumbled almost incoherently, my body still trembling in the aftermath of my ejaculation.
“In just fifteen minutes,” she said giggling, then kissed me on the lips. Her tongue penetrated me, pushing some of my own seed back into my throat. “Can you drive?”
“A car?” I asked like an idiot.
“Don’t you want your other present?” she asked, then stood up on the bench and brought her sex slowly towards my face.
“Si Roberto,” she said as she spread her pussy wide with her fingers and brought it towards my mouth.
“But…you mean you want to…,” I stammered, knowing this couldn’t be normal even for this club.
“Si Robbberrrrrta,” she cooed as my nose and mouth and lips were engulfed in her sex. She hovered for seconds on my tongue, then jumped down off the bench and led me back to my table. I was shaking like a leaf.
“So, how was it?” Craig demanded before I had my butt in the seat.
“Did you touch her tits?” Jimmy asked.
I gave them a cock and bull story…how I touched her ass…tried to touch her tits. I didn’t mention the blow job. Shit I almost didn’t believe it myself. Then I told them she wanted me to take her out for a drink when her shift ended.
“Bullshit!” The sound exploded from the mouth of both my friends almost simultaneously.
“God she must be a hooker,” Craig said after I’d insisted it was true.
“Did she say how much?” Jimmy asked just as Maria walked out of the dressing room and sauntered towards our table.
“Jesus Bobby,” Craig advised, watching Maria’s hips sway under the thin, yellow cotton dress she was wearing, “go for it, she’s worth every cent she’s going to charge you.”
As it turned out Maria Juanita Cabrera didn’t want money, she simply wanted cock. Big hard, teen cock! And she’d decided that mine would be just perfect that night. A birthday boy’s big boner. Thank you god.
I may not have been a virgin when I entered Maria Juanita Cabrera’s apartment that night but I was still an innocent boy. I left the next morning a man.
“Fuck me Roberto,” she’d urged as she pulled the thin summer dress over her head and then quickly lowered the silk thong that was the only other piece of clothing she wore. She lay back on the bed and watched through smoky eyes as I rushed to get out of my jeans. We’d been in her apartment about ten seconds.
Hurry…hurry Roberto,” she pled as she spread her knees and exposed her pink insides to me. She was moist and ready when I pushed my thick shaft into her tight, slick furrow. I was in heaven.
What could have been embarrassing or difficult for an innocent boy she made easy. She laughed and encouraged and complimented me. Kissed me, led me, welcomed me inside her.
Then she started yelling in Spanish. Loud. Then locked her legs around my back as we bounced atop the sheets. Somehow squeezed and tightened her slippery cunt around me every time I bottomed out deep inside her.
She laughed, a joyous laugh, when my cock finally jerked and then splattered my thick cream inside her now spasming furnace.
“Si, si Roberrrrto,” Maia moaned as I continued to splash hot cum inside this beautiful, golden skinned Cuban woman. I finally rolled off, my cock sticky and still half hard as it popped out. Then she really got serious about the sex.
I had a teenager’s ability to do it again and again and she didn’t hesitate to take advantage of all my youthful virility. She encouraged while teaching me, demanding, them whimpering in joy as her body repeatedly pulsed out its orgasmic welcome.
She taksim ucuz escort never tired as the hours of darkness fled, turning me this way and that, mounting me, riding me…then let me ride her from behind, my hard cock pounding into her silken sleeve as my hands squeezed and caressed her hanging breasts.
“Would you like to go out this Friday?” she asked as I pulled the jeans up my legs. We had woken at six-thirty after maybe one hour of sleep, then made love one last time before we’d showered together. I didn’t want to leave but knew I had to get home before mom got home from her night shift at the hospital.
“You really want to?” I still hadn’t really accepted that this beautiful woman would want to go out with me.
“If you can dance,” she said with an appraising and insouciant glance.
“Of course I can,” I answered.
“Salsa?” she asked dubiously, then sexually pumped her pelvis towards me.
“No problemo,” I said grinning.
“We’ll see,” she promised and then gave me instructions on what time and where to meet her Friday night. “And don’t wear sneakers Roberto,” she warned. I might have been pissed off at her assumption that I couldn’t dance but she’d run her fingers across the front of my pants when she’d said it.
Besides I was in love. Or at least lust.
Sneakers? One thing I can do and that’s dance! There’s a picture of me at about eight months of age where my big sister, Natalie, twenty months older than me, is holding me up, clearly leading me in a dance.
She never stopped. For the next sixteen years I was the person she sought out when she wanted to dance. Oh there were times I’d protest. I can remember when I was about nine years old being laughed at by my buddies when I stupidly told them I was going home to dance with my sister.
“Dancing with a girl?” one had sneered as they all laughed. After that I kept my sisters dancing lessons and practice between us only.
But it was probably the favorite thing in my world. Whether innocently dancing with Natalie and even sometimes mom in my youth, or later in my teenage years when my hormones had started to explode into action, music and dancing gave me my happiest moments.
Did Natalie, or mom for that matter, understand the feelings that her fifteen or sixteen year old brother had started to feel for them? I don’t think so. But my teenage dreams had increasingly featured Natalie — I’d simply never said a thing.
And then last September she’d gone away to university, leaving her seventeen year old brother broken hearted…what I’d hoped for hadn’t happened…and I’d realized at the time that it probably never would.
The weird thing however was that the hours I’d spent dancing with my sister over the years had reaped great dividends later. My buddies who’d once kidded me about my dancing watched jealously when classmate after classmate begged me to dance with them at our first coed parties.
I got to tell ya, a fifteen or sixteen year old guy who loves dancing and is pretty good at it becomes pretty popular with his hot little mini skirted classmates. But they weren’t my red headed sister!
So the prospect of a night of salsa dancing at some ‘in’ Latino club with the lovely Maria didn’t faze me at all.
“So you cannnn dance,” Miss Cabrera complimented at about eleven-thirty Friday night. “At least for a gringo,” she teased, but then added as she pushed her breasts into me, “Almost as good as you make love Roberto.”
We spent the night in Maria’s bed. And most of Saturday. Mom was gone for the weekend for a long planned visit with her sister in Atlanta. Natalie was working at Disneyworld in Orlando for the summer. So I had no reason to go home, no one was checking up on me.
“I’m taking you out somewhere tonight,” Maria promised as we lay side by side in her bed on Saturday afternoon.
“You are? Where?” I asked even as I pulled her willing body on top of mine.
“You’ll see,” she answered as she grasped my shaft and directed its head to her slit. Then thrust her pelvis downward until I was buried in her sticky warmth.
“Noooo way,” I protested at eleven that night when we turned the corner and I saw the line of women stretched down the block. “Maria!”
“C’mon my beautiful Rrrroberrrrto,” Maria purred as she pulled me after her. She went right to the head of the line. She of course knew ‘Carlos’ the doorman. And when some of the women in line protested her being allowed immediately in, she turned and pointing at me announced, “He’s one of the dancers.”
Yeah right, I mumbled to myself as my face reddened.
“You are?” one asked.
“Why don’t you dance for me right out here big boy,” an overweight, thirty something year old asked. She and three of her friends had surrounded me as soon as Maria had said I was a dancer.
“Please, I’m late…I have to hurry,” I squealed as I felt a hand run across the front of my jeans. Another grabbed my butt when I turned to rush after Maria who was holding the door.
“I knew they’d like you,” Maria said, her eyes sparkling in delight.
“They’re animals,” I complained as we pushed towards the bar.
“They want your big prick Roberrrto, you’ll get used to them,” she said laughing.
“I’m not becoming a -” I started.
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