Chapter 5
"Harry, if you can't, or won't bring in some money, then I'm going to have to go to work!"
What a time for a squabble between this loving couple. Angela aggressively stated her situation -- right at the breakfast table. It was really a card table, its top stained with wine spills and egg yolks.
Harry, sipping his tepid coffee, started to say something. Angela didn't let him, continuing her tirade with, "Do you know our bank balance is only $112.47?"
"No shit," Harry mumbled.
"No shit, Harry, that's exactly what it is. Now, if you aren't going to get a job ..."
"All right!"
Anything to stop her screaming; he had a splitting headache from the night before. Wine was fine, but too much wasn't, and he loved his Gallo burgundy, gulped straight from a gallon jug.
Harry thought, let her get a goddam job then, it's all right with me, I'll just go surfing and swimming, then when she gets tired of nine-to-five, I'll get something set up in the fall, maybe I can teach at U.C.L.A., underwater sports or something like that ...
"Harry!" she said, shoving her breasts toward him in both an aggressive and suggestive manner. She was only wearing the bottom half of her halter, and her tittles almost came close enough to put out his eyes. "Starting today, I'm going out and look for a job."
He looked her in the eyes.
Those cool green orbs were slotted and slanted, almost forming green fire. She really looked both dangerous and sexy, and that was turning him on, even during breakfast. He could feel an erection forming, beneath his battered blue jeans and boxer shorts. He glanced back at her boobs again, noticing the fresh pinkness of her nipples as they stuck out like little fingers from the dark tan of her breasts. She'd been doing some sunning without her bikini, and though the process wasn't quite complete, he could see that it wouldn't be long before her tan would be quite even all over her soft skin.
Jokingly, Harry moved his mouth toward her right breast, and his teeth chomped air as his mouth, teeth, and lips clamped together just an inch or two from her erected nipple.
She frowned, first; then, she smiled, letting her tongue sneak out and lick the corner of her mouth. She could tell she was turning him on again, so why not do a dance, say, a special breakfast dance?
She stood up from the table, backing away like a ballerina, moving on her toes with delicacy -and grace, her flame-red hair falling sexily over her shoulders and some of it caressing her breasts. She dropped her voice an octave or two, m the murmuring huskily, "I'm going to become a stripper -- on
Sun-set Strip."
Harry almost swallowed coffee grounds at that comment. As he got up, going for a glass of water, she continued, "Do you know how much I can earn a week, Harry? With only two shows a night, five days a week? Do you know how much? Do you?"
Harry was gulping down cold water; he couldn't, and didn't, reply.
"Two hundred dollars, with tips! That's how much, and it's a lot of money, isn't it, Harry? I'm going after it, too." She paused, to make some motions toward her bottoms. "Right this second, I'm going after it."
He could feel his erection growing with every word she said. His balls were banging into each other inside their sack of skin, and he could feel his foreskin peeling itself back like a ripe fruit ready for eating. He unzipped his fly, and his wide, wiggling rod leaped out. She pretended not to notice, as she continued removing her bottoms, all the while shimmying her hips and shaking her torso in an evocative movement, her hair whirling round about her head, her legs hardly moving as she dropped her bottoms to the floor and, doing a quick leap away from her hot, hustling boyfriend, stood nude right in front of him.
Harry noticed, despite her attempted disclaimer, that her eyes were now following the movements of his prick, as he, in imitation of her movements, began to swing it like a club, in long, circular motions in front of him, while moving steadily in her direction. He caught the slightest flick of her tongue, licking at her pouting lips. He said, with a touch of sarcasm, "If that's all the stripping you'll be doing, the °club owner must be the world's greatest sucker, or else you'll get fired after the first five seconds."
She didn't reply; instead, she danced out of the room, Harry followed a few feet behind her. Into the bedroom they went, her haunches shaking haughtily in front of his face. She gave a stunning leap, her breasts and arms thrusting forward in perfect balance, over the mattress in their bedroom. Standing by the wall, she shook her crotch into his face, her pubic hairs becoming damp with juice, as, playfully, she put her thumb on her clit and started to play with herself, feeling those lustful, lovely electric thrills zapping throughout her nervous system as she did so.
Still wearing his pants and shorts Harry bounded across the mattress after her. He was trying to do a dance of his own, a sort of rapid shuffle, hands out-stretched like his prick, legs pumping like the L.A. Rams' running back.
As she tried to duck him, her foot slipped on a towel discarded on the floor. Before she could go down, Harry had her in his arms, his chest rubbing eagerly against her titties, feeling their fullness and the tautness of those nipples pricking his skin, feeling his cock rubbing against her cunt lips.
As he pulled her toward the mattress -- both of them still on their feet -- he felt her hand release itself from her clit and grab hold of his cock, stroking the underside of his balls. Both of them were still moving, doing a sort of tango on the. mattress, as Harry got his hands around her shoulders, and pulled hard, trying to get sufficient leverage to shove his cock right up her cunt.
She felt him doing that; though, she didn't try any tricks, as she often did. She seemed to feel that it was shock enough for him, her deciding to go to work at, of all things, stripping. Better to humor him now, let him do his thing with her the way he wanted to. After all -- she liked fucking him as much as he did with her, didn't she?
Her hands slipped around his waist, and her fingernails dug deeply into his ass. He could feel them almost drawing blood, and the jolt was sufficient to force his movement forward, to give his prick a stiff shove into her pussy. Ah yes, her pussy, now damp from stimulation, her lips parting wide as his masculine monster came slipping inside, slowly but steadily, both of them holding each other close, ever closer, as their bodies intertwined, still moving, still grooving, together.
Now -- all the way in!
He gave a thrust that almost lifted her off her feet. She grabbed hold of him all the harder, to keep from falling on her ass. Her breasts were crushing so hard against his chest she could feel his curly hairs scratching her sensitive skin, could feel him crushing the breath from her. She moved her mouth toward his shoulder, giving him a touch of tiny love bites along his shoulder blades, slowly moving along until she was biting him on the neck, just below his ear. Then, her teeth nibbled his earlobe, and her mouth clamped hold of his ear and her tongue snaked in-side, tantalyzing his eardrum, as she stabbed and sucked at his ear, so deftly that he could almost hear strange sounds, like a seashell was against his ear instead of her probing tongue and clamping mouth.
She was coming now, partially from self-stimulation, partially from Harry's probing, stabbing dick,, which was working out on her pussy membranes like a shovel in soft mud. She felt her haunches heave, as her orgasm began, and the love juice started pouring out of her pussy. She could feel it running down her legs, as he could feel it water-falling down his legs. The jabbing and stabbing of his cock was almost bending her backwards, as she fought to keep her balance, her feet now solidly stationary, but her back arching, her ass wiggling, as she silently prayed for him to pour it on, pour it in her.
He felt her responses, the thrills vibrating along
his nerves, his skin tingling with sexual anticipation. Well, she might strip for other guys, but she'd never funk for them, he thought; conveniently forgetting the Jim and Betty shower scandals, the beach hangings. Those didn't count; only what he and she did, that's what counted.
She was coming to the crest of an orgasm, her body now buckled toward him as if her spine was curved, her vaginal muscles straining to set him off, her body bathed in perspiration and pussy juice. She
wanted him -- right now!
So, he let her have what she wanted so badly.
With great exertion, he fired off his rod, stabbing her hole with sperm, feeling her pussy twitching as its juicy, wet membranes clutched his cock. He could feel her titties trying to puncture his chest, her tongue digging into his ear. She moaned from deep in her throat, a moan of exultant joy, as she felt the steady, unwavering stream of his sperm enter her. They both braced their legs as best as they could, to keep their balance, to stay on their two feet while still fucking.
Gradually; his orgasms diminished, and her spasms tapered off. They were both drenched in sweat and come juice, shuddering from the energies of their exertions, holding tightly to each other as always, their skins both tingling with the touch of each other's fine bodies.
Harry thought maybe he'd helped her to forget, while they were fucking, about this sillyass idea of getting a job in a strip show.
He thought wrong.
As she removed her tongue from his ear and he pulled out his prick from her pussy, she said, "I think I'm going to get the job, I can feel it in my bones."
Harry, a little disappointed -- he thought she'd felt his flying fuckstick, more than anything else -- said, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The stripper's job, of course."
"What stripper's job?"
"The stripper's job I was talking to you about a few minutes ago -- remember?" She paused, while Harry gulped, then she added, "I'm auditioning for the club owner tonight. If he likes my stuff, the job's mine."
"Great," was all he could say, as he reached for a towel to dry both of them off.
"At two and a quarter a week, too. Better than I expected." She touched his crotch, her fingernails gently scratching at the underside of his scrotum. "Harry, aren't you happy someone in this house is going to work?"
Remembering the near-empty refrigerator and the stack of unpaid bills stuffed into a bureau drawer, he nodded, though with no great show of excitement. He thought that the beach bits had been bad enough; but now, even more exposed in public, especially to people who'd be paying to see her -- like prostitution!
When he looked around again, she was gone.
She had taken off to visit friends, he'd guessed. He did the same thing himself, from time to time. Nothing unusual about that. Though -- she could have said something.
Having nothing better to do, he spent the day surfing. The waves were fine, he enjoyed himself, and also noticed a slight increase in the number of teenyboppers hanging around the beach, looking horny and hot for fucking. He just might check some of that stuff out, if Angela ended up doing her thing all night long, with him just sitting home and sip-ping cheap wine and staring at four walls. No thanks, not for him.
When she returned, just before sunset, she asked him to cook dinner, since she had to devote all her energies for her "audition." He did; nothing better than hamburgers, either.
Later, they walked the long walk to the bus stop, and took a bus to the Sunset Strip, a long hour's ride. Harry was one of the less than two percent L.A. residents who didn't own wheels. Next thing I know, he thought, she'll take her money -- if she gets the job -- and get suckered into a used car instead of paying off our bills.
When they finally got off the bus, they had to walk about five blocks until they arrived at the Kit-ten Club, the place where Angela was going to "strip." It was in the middle of the block, not crushed together with boutiques, bars, coffee houses and other clubs, as were most places on the Strip. It was set off by itself, with a neon sign dangling from the entrance and pictures of the featured females posted prominently in the front windows.
As they entered, Harry noticed the cavernous dimensions of the club. No small time strip joint, it looked as if its capacity was about 2,000. A five-piece band was warming up, and a group of girls were sitting in the wings, awaiting their turn to "take it off."
Angela walked right over to one of three men who were sitting around, craftily checking out the girls. As she introduced herself, Harry noticed that the men -- tough-looking, typical showbiz-type guys -- couldn't help but ogle Angela a bit more than they'd glanced at the other girls, and one of them even nodded several times as her tits swung into his line of vision.
The other girls were a good-looking group; they grow them that way in California, nice and natural-looking, as healthy as were hot-pantsed. Still, there was something about Angela that seemed to set her apart from the rest. Her perfect posture, her burnished red hair, her cat-green eyes ... something special, and the men picked up on it fast.
And, the fact of their interest seemed to affect Harry in one particular, though not peculiar, way.
He started getting a hardon.
An envious erection; he could feel his prick stiffen inside his pants as one of the three men -- a short, balding guy with a thick mustache and a fat cigar gestured for them to sit down and wait their turn. Then, the same guy turned to the girls, pointed at one, and barked out, "OK, Stella by Starlight, your turn to show us what you've got!"
A very tall blonde with tremendous tits, stood up and swiveled on stage, the twin round mounds of her ample ass heaving as if a volcanic eruption was due in that vicinity. She smiled at the men like a hungry shark, shook her ass contemptuously at the other girls, and started going into her dance as the bandleader gave his men the downbeat.
The music was a well-played stripper's theme that Harry had heard countless times before.
The blonde was wearing a harem outfit, sheer V-neck blouse and pants, her hair done in a long ponytail, and a pair of Turkish slippers on her feet. At the music's first note, she began to twirl like a baton, doing a spinning top routine; on both feet first, then one foot, then one foot after the other. While spinning, she untied her hair, and it became a swirling blur about her head and shoulders as she poured on the passion into her dance.
The men nodded in approval.
Then, she started to unbutton her blouse while still in motion. Button by button, she got it off, and casually flipped it to the bald guy with the cigar. He caught it deftly, sniffed it a bit, then smiled, showing all his teeth.
She was not wearing a bra, and those huge boobs were pink at the nipples, brown everywhere else. Yet, large as they were, they seemed to sag by a few inches. Harry caught that, and so did the bald guy, who furrowed his forehead into a frown, as he also spotted a few wrinkles the girl's whirling dervish speed couldn't conceal.
She kicked off her slippers, almost socking the three men with them. They didn't like that one bit.
She began dancing slower, but still in time to the music, squatting lower toward the floor as she wiggled her ass almost in the men's faces. Then, she started unzipping her harem pants; as they dropped to the floor, she jumped out of them and gave the three men a spectacular bow, her fits almost touching their lips.
That bit held the men's interest with no trouble at all. Harry's, too; his erection was growing every second.
Next, she went into some additional gyrations that popped off her panties without her even touching them. This time, the men applauded; they'd apparently never seen that trick before. But, before she could go into a cunt-twisting routine -- the men had spotted her pussy, and while it looked large, the lips seemed droopy and the clit was hanging as loosely as a bent cigaret -- the bald guy said, abruptly, "OK, that's all for now, you can put your stuff back on."
Angrily shaking her ass in his face, she picked up her clothes and joined the group of girls again.
Harry was perspiring now, his heart beating faster, his blood pressure up ten points. The three men huddled together in close, private discussion. Then, the bald guy -- Angela whispered to Harry that he was the senior partner, name of Jack Johnson -- gestured toward Angela and said, "OK, sweetheart, let's see you do your stuff. Maybe you can be more subtle than that other broad, if you get what I mean."
As Angela walked over to center stage, it was obvious she knew exactly what Jack Johnson meant.
She had stuffed herself into the tightest-fitting black pants suit any of them had ever seen; it fit her beautiful body as close as a second skin. The effect, when she walked around, was breathtaking. Harry heard the low whistles that seeped from the three men -- and even a few admiring murmurs from the girls -- as Angela, smiling sweetly at the bandleader, went into her routine.
But, there was nothing routine about her movements.
She started by unzipping the top of her pants suit, and as she moved, her bare breasts popped out like peas from a pod. The men couldn't help but notice, in comparison to the blonde, how Angela's tits were solid and perfectly-formed. In fact, she deliberately thrust them into the men's faces. Harry nervously noticed that Jack Johnson stuck out his tongue, as if to lick her nipples, before Angela whipped them out of his mouth's reach.
Her bumps and grinds were coming on as sophisticated as a Hawaiian hula, and her movements seemed as precisely choreographed- as a ballet. Her ass was like grass as it moved in perfect time with the music. Harry's hardon was getting seriously stiff as, unzipping the bottom of her pants suit, Angela revealed that she hadn't bothered to wear panties.
The men let out some long, loud whistles, and there were even a few shouts of encouragement from the girls. Angela took the top part of her pants suit and began making motions, enacting the part of a bullfighter with a cape, waving it at the men, then covering her front with it, draping it coyly about herself like a flag.
The drummer gave out with several uncalled-for cymbal flourishes, throwing the rest of the band off stride.
Harry could hear the men muttering among themselves, apparently favorably inclined toward the
show they were seeing. He himself was also admiring her flawless performance, the way her body molded itself to the music, as she started doing some complicated twirls and gyrations even he had never seen before.
Before she had finished, the three men were applauding lustily. She was so taken that she kissed each one on the cheek, starting with the other two men, then to Johnson, whom she smacked right on top of his bald spot.
That did it.
Johnson, shouting loudly, "You're hired!", got; up from his chair fast, stripping off his own clothes as he did so. The other men stared, a few girls gasped; but, the bald man moved with amazing speed and grace. Now naked, all could see that his cock, no small appendage, was just as stiff and swinging as Harry's. Big Jack began an erotic pas-de-deux with Angela, and Harry noticed, with mounting anger, that she did nothing to discourage him.
Then, as Harry swiveled his head toward the other girls, he noticed that the blonde was fuming, her face flame-red. She quickly took off her clothes again and headed for the dancing floor, ready to give Angela some competition.
Harry, not even thinking about what he was doing, suddenly whipped off his clothes in seconds and got up to follow the building crowd. He intercepted the blonde -- by accident more than design -- just as Jack Johnson started to screw his girl.
Harry's girl, Angela!
Jack grabbed her by the breasts and, holding on tight, started to slip his prick inside her pussy. Angela seemed to offer no objection; indeed, she slowed her dancing down so that the bald man could more easily get inside. Her smile was enigmatic, as she, felt his cock stabbing at her cunt lips, triggering ott spasms in her clit, and finally gaining entrance and shoving its unasked way inside her now-quivering cunt, aroused by both the sensuousness of her erotic, exotic movements and the unalterable fact of Jack's jamming his weapon into her.
They started to make it while still standing; and, still dancing. Jack had removed his hands from her boobs and slipped them around her waist, while she had grabbed him by his ample ass and was pulling so hard that he had no trouble at all falling inside, right up to the hilt.
Harry could see the sweat forming on both of them, hear their grunts and groans, see their bodies digging into each other. It made him mad enough to fuck. To fuck anything, including a tree.
And, remember -- the blonde bitch was right beside him.
She suddenly dropped to the floor, on her knees. She opened her mouth, and clamped her thick, slobbering lips over his click. He was still moving, dancing in his anger, trying to dance off his anger, as she adjusted her intense rhythms to his. The band was still keeping the right, tight beat, as the blonde's lips lapped away at Harry's prick, as if she was both a flute player and a cocksucker, her lips making unheard music with his instrument.
The girls were still gasping with surprise; but, not knowing what to do. They did nothing. The two men, perhaps afraid to interfere in their partner's private matters, let Jack alone as he drove harder into Angela's pussy. Angela, feeling his intense energies and huge rod, started going into her first orgasm of the evening.
The sight of her making it with another man drove Harry into a frenzy, almost a fury. The blonde cunt could feel his cock vibrating with the lust of the unsatisfied man. Still in strict tempo, she drew Harry's dick almost all the way inside her throat, as her juicy mouth was masticating his sperm-stuffed rod.
Harry, looking downward, noticed her droopy boobs., His chick's were ten times better, ten times more solid, he thought; but, he grabbed them any-way, feeling his fingers slipping into their fleshy mounds as if they were made of gelatin. He could smell her pussy juice and feel her going into her own orgasm, as his balls swelled up to bursting and his prick shuddered in ecstasy until ... he came.
His shivering, shuddering prick twitched with almost-spastic exertions as his sperm shot into her thirsty, sucking mouth. She gulped greedily, her mouth membranes wet with her saliva and his sperm, her throat bobbing as he kept on pouring a steady stream of his joy juice into her insatiable mouth. He grabbed hold of her hair, but it felt coarse to his touch. He couldn't reach her boobs, so he braced himself with his hands on her shoulders, as she lapped, gulped, and swallowed his stuff, making gurgling, coughing sounds as she did so.
As Angela, her orgasmic interludes becoming one long continuous come, her cunt twitching and shaking with violent energies, her back arched and her hair streaming down her shoulders, felt Jack's cock erupt with rat-a-tat-tat explosions, each one more explosive then the preceding one. He felt her big boobs pricking his damp, hairy chest. She could feel him coming like a flood, and she couldn't help noticing that his prick was a little longer than Harry's, though not so wide nor quite so complete in its coverage. Still, the fuck he was fucking her was a good goddam fuck, and that was all that mattered.
And Harry, his cock still being sucked almost of its skin by the blonde's ravenous mouth, could hear Jack gasping, between orgasms, his verbal seal of approval on Angela, as he said, "You're a fantastic fuck ... and a fantastic stripper ... you've got this fucking job, baby ... starting right now!"