Having a stripper living in the apartment seemed like a nice idea, but it took some getting used to. Shannon was a hot little cutie and she knew it. She had no problem in showing off her tight little compact, cheerleader-like body and her sexual proclivity was simply off the charts and wild.
Shannon decided to take up residence in a one-bedroom apartment to get away from a wickedly abusive boyfriend. (He finally moved on with a little urging and a lack of attentiveness).
My daily routine quickly changed. I found it natural to be up between three am and six am when Shannon got home from work, sometimes with some of her stripper friends. For the most part, I did not mind the middle of the night intrusions because they always ended up with an adventure of some type. Shannon was not the least bit jealous and we had an incredibly open relationship. She never brought any customers to the apartment, except for one time and then, it was a guy married to another stripper.
I was dead asleep that night, having finished off a hard day working the evening shift at the warehouse job that I had. I felt my bed partner slip into my bed beside me. I was too tired to pay close attention to who it was and simply assumed it was Shannon.
I woke up about four in the morning to find an unknown bed partner, going down on me. Assuming it was Shannon, I pulled her up for a deep-throated kiss and almost immediately realized I was not kissing my roommate.
“I’m sorry,” I declared, pulling back from her advances.
“I’m Marie,” she said, “Shannon’s in the living room with Mike. I hope you don’t mind – Shannon was right, you are incredibly sexy.”
It took me a few seconds to wrap my head around what was happening. Marie finger-walked her fingers across my chest, even as I shifted in the bed.
“Who the hell is Mike?” I asked.
“He’s my husband,” Marie replied.
“Your husband is with Shannon?” I was still trying to rationalize what I was being told.
“Yeah,” Marie explained. “She got a little tipsy and well, you know – – -“
“Tipsy?” I asked, “or drunk?”
“Maybe a little drunk,” Marie replied, “But it is all good. Mike is super nice and I’m fine with it. At least I know who he is with and I know where he is at.”
Marie shifted in the bed beside me, tossing a leg over mine. Even though the lights were off, I could tell she was attractive, with her curly black, shoulder-length black hair and huge brown eyes. Her hand found its way to my manly parts and as she wrapped her fingers around the shift of my hardened cock, she silently smiled.
“You have a nice package,” Marie declared. And with that declaration, she disappeared under the covers and began a most wonderful and delightful blowjob.
I was about to shoot my load when Marie pulled the covers back and begged me to “put it in.”
She straddled my torso and lowered herself on to my tool, gently guiding me into the right spot.
She bit down on her lower lip as we connected. Oh Lord! She began a very slow grind on my lap, which soon picked up in pace as the two of us clasped hands and our eyes connected even in the darkness of the room. I could tell by the outline of her body that she had that super-hot stripper look. She leaned forward and declared, “I’m on the pill, so fill me up.”
I shot my load deep inside of her, as she trembled and shook. Neither of us very were quiet about our activities. She lowered her head and collapsed on to my chest. She twitched and went limp. I listened to her heavy breathing, as she lay across my chest, her head resting in the nape of my shoulder.
It was as surreal an experience as I had ever experienced. A hot little stripper that I did not know, unexpectedly showing up in my bed and horny.
I woke up around six that morning, to find my hot little bed mate gone, and replaced by Shannon, my ridiculously cute little neighbor, and new roommate.
I did like all normal guys would do at that point and took a whiff of my fingers to see if I had been dreaming.
Shannon batted her eyes open and looked over at me, a mischievous look crossing her face.
“Did we have fun last night?” she asked as she turned to face me.
“Yes,” I replied, “Did you?”
“Yes,” Shannon replied, before asking me if I was OK with what had transpired.
“I’m fine with it,” I replied, noting it was something I had not expected.
“I hope she took good care of you,” Shannon replied.
“Yes, she did,” I said. “How about you?”
“Mike was cool,” Shannon replied, “But he wasn’t you.”
That made me feel a bit better. I am not a jealous type, so long as my needs get met. I soon learned that Mike and Marie were simply traveling on vacation and that their sexual escapade was a dare between the two of them, something that intrigued me.
I asked Shannon if she would ever do something similar and after a moment of thought, she replied, “Why not?”
That set-in motion a set of questions and a discussion about our secret sexual fantasies. Shannon told me that she had always wanted to be prostituted out, but never had the guts to actually follow through with it.
“I’m not a slave to sex,” she declared.
“Could have fooled me,” I replied.
“Working in a strip club is not my idea of having a good time,” Shannon disclosed. “It’s simply- work.”
We talked about going out to a dance club and having a good time.
“If we see someone that captivates us, let’s see where it takes us,” Shannon said.
I told her that she had an unfair advantage because any half-way smart guy would drop everything, just to be with her. Shannon didn’t see herself as anything special- most strippers don’t. I reassured her that she had a competitive advantage over myself.
So, we decided to hit a small upscale bar to test out our theory. Shannon dressed up in a very sexy and very short one-piece cocktail dress, sans underwear and I slipped into some casual slacks with a button-down shirt. Our goal was to hit the bar and see who would be the first to snag a willing take-home partner.
As soon as we entered the dimly light bar, I knew I was at a competitive disadvantage since the bar was lined with middle-aged single guys. There was a small group of younger women sitting together, off to the side, giddily sipping on mimosas.
Shannon and I each found bar stools, although she got one first when a guy got up to go to the restroom. I waited to see what would happen. Shannon quickly struck up a conversation with the guy next to her, and she was not shy in showing her interest in him, leaning in and laughing at something he said to her after she purchased a drink.
I stood off to the side, waiting for a barstool to open. A guy got up and I quickly grabbed the opening. I was about three seats removed from Shannon, so I could barely hear her conversation, but I could tell she was working it, albeit kind of shy-like and cautiously. One of the ladies in the small group headed off to the ladies’ room, alone, which I found interesting. Ladies simply do not go to the restroom alone. At the risk of losing my bar stool, I decided to check out my lovely, sweet thing a little closer.
I stationed myself in the hallway outside the ladies’ room and waited for her to come out. I didn’t have to wait long. As soon as she exited the ladies’ room, we exchanged quick glances, each of us quickly seizing the other up.
She had on a wedding band. That was a downer. Still, she was amazingly cute, and I mean ridiculously cute, with huge brown eyes, a nice figure and very long legs and, she paused long enough to look in my direction, for more than a simple glance.
“Hey,” I called out. She turned and looked in my direction.
“I like that wedding band. You are so very spoiled, too bad you’re off the market,” I brazenly noted. She turned and faced me.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, “I am simply stalking you and was hoping you’d might like a drink.”
She looked around and smiled.
“Are you here with anyone?” she asked.
“Just you,” I dutifully replied.
She took a step in my direction and I watched as her eyes surveyed me a little closer.
“The ring is not a wedding band,” she replied. “I wear it to keep guys at bay. I have to ask though, why would you try and hit on a married woman?”
“I was not trying to hit on married woman,” I replied, “I was simply offering up a compliment.”
“Uh huh,” she replied matter-of-factly, as though she did not believe me.
I didn’t think the conversation was going to be very productive, but I was surprised when she said my timing was perfect, as she was looking for a way to exit the office party she had been sitting with. She stepped closer and silently looped her arm undermine and said, “Let’s get out of here and go somewhere, more private.”
Dang- that was unbelievably easy. The look on Shannon’s face as I slipped by her, my date with me, was one of pure shock.
I suggested a small bistro, but Stacy had other plans in mind. She let it be known very quickly that she wanted to spend time with me in a more intimate setting. I asked if she wanted to see my apartment.
“Sure,” she replied.
“I have to tell you up front,” I nervously replied, “I have a roommate, but ours is a very open relationship.”
Stacy simply responded by asking a couple of quick questions.
“Is she the jealous type?”
“No,” I replied.
“Is she pretty?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Really pretty, or just plain ole pretty?” Stacy pressed.
“I think she’s pretty hot, but that’s subjective,” I replied.
Stacy seemed undeterred and unfazed by my revelation.
“You don’t think she will mind an unannounced visitor, do you?”
“No,” I said, “she is very easy-going and besides, I left her at the bar.”
Stacy looked surprised.
“Don’t tell me the girl at the bar back there. is your roommate.”
“Uhhhh, yep,” I nervously replied.
“And you left her at the bar with all those horn dogs?”
“Yeah,” I said, “We have an open relationship. She’ll be fine.”
Stacy reached across the center divider and placed her hand on to my thigh.
“I hope she is gone for the night,” Stacy declared, “Because I’d like to have you all to myself.”
Whoa. The fast-tracking was unbelievable.
As soon as we got into the apartment, our clothes quickly disappeared. Neither of us had any inhibitions. Stacy was unbelievably horny. I could not believe my luck. It was as though we both knew what each of us wanted and needed. My bed became the landing pad and our sexual adventure was off the chart crazy. This girl was hot, and I mean hot!!
Neither of us heard Shannon coming in. We were having a lot of fun when suddenly Stacy asked, “Does your roommate care if you fool around?”
“We have an open relationship,” I repeated, as I rapidly drilled my eight and a half inch into Stacy’s tight little pussy.
Suddenly, I heard Shannon say, “This looks like some fun I could get into.”
I froze. My heart simply skipped a beat. I quickly pulled out of my date and apologized.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Shannon remarked.
Stacy froze, unsure of what to do or say, pulling the bed covers over herself.
“At least she’s cute,” Shannon remarked as she stepped towards the bed, pacing a hand on my shoulder.
“Do you think I can join you guys?”
I looked at Stacy and then back at Shannon, in shock.
“I’m not bisexual,” Stacy murmured. Shannon smiled, as she reached behind herself to unzip the zipper of her sexy little black cocktail dress.
“We’ll work on that,” Shannon replied, allowing her cocktail dress to fall to her ankles.
Oh Lord. . . . . . strippers can be so surprising.