It was barely hours after Jackson had left me swimming in my own waterfall
that I was lubing up my favorite toy and wishing he was behind me, gripping my hair and making demands. Days would go by before I worked up
the courage to get on a dating site and create a profile. I remember staring at the blinking cursor after the comment,
"Tell us what you are looking for in a mate,” I stared at the screen as if the question was in German. What was I looking for? I wasn’t “looking” for a mate, I just wanted to fuck. So I spent half of the night trying to craft some clever way to say that without sounding like I was for sale or just plain easy.
In the meantime, I confided to an old ex about my Tryst with Jackson. Greg knew about Jackson because he was the first man I slept with after our separation. He also knew he was no competition for Jackson so he took me to our favorite strip club. Light Skin, that wasn’t the real name, just what we called it. Because all of the Black Women had light skin, it was like they did the Brown Paper Bag test as a qualifier for employment.
Our old friend Lynn still tended bar there and was there at the main bar with the stage in the middle. Lynn had worked in that same strip club for at least 20 years now. It was at his house where I experienced my first orgy. Some nights Greg and I would close the club down with Lynn, drive him and several strippers to his house and there was a party. Ectasy, powder, weed, liquor, and all the pussy one could eat. It was there I found my limit of how high I could get on Ectasy and decided never to do THAT shit again. No drug is going to have me sucking dick to get it.
Anyway, this night was more like watching a kindergarten play compared to that. But remember, I had been previously deprived. So…keep reading
Lynn leaned in to my ear and asked “So that dude you used to come in here with is what this is about?” he motioned to Greg and I sitting together.
I sat back a bit with a smile and asked, “what do you mean?” I was unsure what he was implying.
“I haven’t seen you in here without that dude in years so…you must be in here with him,” his eyes averted toward Greg.
“Mind yo business Lynn,” I lifted my glass swallowing the remaining water dissolving from the ice and sat the glass down. “Another, please,” I smiled the way he liked and he went to make my drink.
Greg was busy rounding up a gaggle of strippers so he missed out on that conversation. Six women stood in front of me looking all tasty and lickable. I smiled at his choices because they looked nothing like the white woman he left me for. They were all golden bronze, very lil tattoos, soft and natural, yet firm and fit with plushy pillow boobies. He smiled at me while presenting his harem, “How many do you want?” he asked. I wanted to marry him again.
I selected four and Lynn walked us to the VIP room, only a select few know of. Sort of contrary to what Chris Rock said, there may not be sex in the “Champagne Room” but there is sex in “A Room” at the Light Skin. The club had been renovated since the last time I’d been in one of the back rooms. And what an improvement! I will get into that another time.
These women were gorgeous, they introduced themselves before dancing a song each for me. Greg instructed them all to take off their clothes and to make me cum. And they took it as their own personal challenge to see who could do it first. My body had never been so exploited over competition and I loved it. Each breast were in the mouth of different women as they stroked my inner thighs, while one was busying herself between my legs with her tongue ring stroking the softest spot of my clit. Greg sat across from me smiling as our eyes met while the fourth girl slurped on the shaft of his dick.
This was a night to remember, but not what I REALLY craved.
Erotic Blog, NSFW