striptease

a 16 year old waitress gets more than she planned when she strips for a customer after she gets off from work

i was 17 years old. it was the summer before my senior year in high school. i was working as a waitress at a sports bar. one weekday night, i waited on a man dressed in jeans and a dress shirt who ate dinner alone at one of my tables. he was tall and good looking, probably around 40 years old, maybe a little younger, and married. he was in albany for business that week.

he flirted with me all night and i encouraged him, teasing him like a minx. he became more direct with me when i handed him his check. i think he had an instinct about me. he told me i was pretty and i said thank you. then he asked me how old i was and i lied—i said i was 18. then he apologetically asked me if i wanted to make an easy one hundred dollars after i got done working. i asked him how. he said, all i had to do was come to his hotel room after i was done working and take my clothes off for him—nothing else—just strip for him. i told him to give me a few minutes while i ran his credit card through and, when i came back to his table, i said “okay.” it wasn’t the first time i earned extra money after work.

i got off work a little after 9. his hotel was a block away, so i left my car in the bar parking lot and texted him as i walked to his room. i was nervous when i entered the lobby and got on the elevator to the second floor of the hotel. his room was at the end of the hallway. i knocked on the door and he answered wearing a bathrobe, nothing else. he had just showered.

as soon as i walked into the room, he put the money on the desk and sat down in a chair. there was porn on the flat screen television with the sound turned down low. i glanced at the screen—a dark-haired young girl pinioned on a bed as three men took turns on her.

he didn’t talk much now, didn’t flirt with me anymore. he just sat in the chair and told me to strip for him. i did what he told me. except for a white blouse, i was dressed all in black. in his eyes, was the very fuckable little blonde waitress alone with him.

i slipped my sneakers and socks off, unbuttoned my blouse, undid my jeans, slid arms out and dropped my blouse on the floor. i leaned over and pulled my jeans down around my ankles and then off completely . it was business-like and easy for me to get naked.

except for the flickering light and the low, muffled sex sounds from the television, the room was was dark and and quiet. it made me think of a silent movie for an instant—like i was an actress and he was a man in the audience. i could see his hand moving, stroking his cock now in anticipation of my performance.

i stood in front of him half-stripped, small and blonde, my smooth white skin covered only by a black bra and panties. i felt like a mannequin ready to be undone, the small black satin bra and panties barely hiding my tits and swollen, tight, pink, young slit.

i smiled at him and bit my lip and glanced at the money again. then i undid my bra
and let it slide off and fall to the floor. my small black panties quickly followed, pulled down to my ankles before becoming a warm, black satin puddle on the floor.

i stood watching him now with big blue eyes. i stood naked in front of him watching him holding and stroking his long, thick, hard cock—the cock i knew he would use on me (even though that was not part of the bargain when i came here). the size of his cock scared me a little, but now seeing it made me want it, even knowing it might hurt me.

he didn’t need to tell me what to do. i started to move for him, to entertain him like a stripper. i started sliding my hands over my breasts and my fingers felt my nipples swell, hard and aroused from seeing his cock. i continued, sliding my hands lower
down my belly, teasing my fingers between my legs, carelessly inviting his penetration with my slutty performance. i was warm and willing and lubricated now by craven desire. i wanted him now, i wanted to feel him inside me, i wanted him to hurt me with his size.

he sensed that i was willing to do more than strip. he knew he could do what he wanted now with this needy, fatherless girl, more than he promised or planned. the money didn’t have to be easy and my price could be cheap. he could get more for less.

he told me to come up close to him as he sat in the chair holding and stroking his cock. i did what he told me and stood between his legs. i was naked and close enough to feel his warmth. i knew that i was now a stripper he wanted to use for other things. i felt a tremor of indecision about what to do, but he immediately stood up and started the short, climactic scene he wanted before i could change my mind.

he reached out and gently took my hair in his hand. he seemed almost fatherly then, and i imagined him saying he loved me. then, suddenly and roughly, he grabbed my arm with his other hand and pulled me up against him. now he wasn’t gentle, but gripping me tightly. now he was grabbing and fondling and squeezing my tits and twisting and pulling my nipples. now his hands were sliding down my belly and roughly exploring between my legs, pushing his fingers into me, making me squirm when he penetrated my pussy. now his other hand was moving down my back, groping me
while he whispered flattering comments about my ass and my body. as he handled me, he pressed up against me, before turning me a little. i was felt his warmth
and smelled his arousal when my small, warm fingers wrapped around his sizable cock.

“you’re a lucky girl,” he said, “to be so pretty . . . not many girls are as pretty as you.”
he took my arm and guided me to the desk, moving me so i faced the mirror on the wall behind the desk. then everything happened quickly. he grabbed my hair and pushed my head down on the desk. he used his other hand to move me, lifting and forcing me up a little with his hand between my legs. he leaned over me from behind
and i felt him then, where he wanted to be, pressing up against my vagina. and in an instant i felt him push his hard, long, thick cock into me so i cried out sharply and suddenly. he switched his hands as he penetrated me, pressing down on my back,
holding me down on the desk, while his other hand reached around and covered my mouth to keep my cries unheard. then he slid his cock out and up and roughly forced his cock into my tight asshole, struggling at first to penetrate me there as i tried to push away, sobbing, an anal virgin until that night, but i couldn’t stop his repeated, relentlessly, painfully, tearing thrusts.

he choreographed my anal rape like he had done this all before. he finished his work with a dozen rough thrusts, each time telling me how pretty i was as he pushed his cock into me. each thrust hurting me, making me bleed, making me cry uncontrollably. it seemed so long until i felt him stopping still inside me and pressing down on my back and cumming deep inside me.

he wiped himself on my ass after he finished, leaving traces of sticky guilt—his semen—on my ass and inside me and he told me i could go. just like that. he told me to get dressed while handing me his soiled towel. he told me to take my money, that i had been worth his time, but he had other things to do. so i dressed, unstripping, as i put back on my panties and bra, jeans and blouse, socks and sneakers. i felt his deposit still staining me, a memory leaking out of my ass with his semen. and i felt pain as
i walked out of the room and whispered goodbye and a thank you, the money in my hand.

i can still feel his ejaculations about of how pretty i was and how he hurt me. and i remember my walk down the hallway felt different after what happened. it was dark and the parking lot was empty and i was alone when i got into my car feeling like i just left a late movie without a boyfriend.

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