Chapter 9
Not long after the triple fuck scene, Harry happened to run into Big Bill at the beach.
Harry, being out of it at the time, did not know that both Big Bill and Wong had gotten into Angela. Of course, Angela, even if she'd paid all that much attention to facts, didn't say one word about what had happened. So, it was a fairly friendly, almost comradely meeting and greeting they gave each other. In fact, Harry thanked Big Bill profusely for his able assistance in getting Angela to pay attention to him again.
Harry was so grateful that he even invited Big Bill backstage that same evening, to be his guest after Angela had completed her strip shows at the Kitten Club.
For, this evening, Angela was celebrating her first month's anniversary at the club. Among other reasons, she had just received a 20 percent raise in salary from her generous boss, Jack Johnson. Of course, he had also tried to fuck her again, but Angela, for her own reasons, had declined, reminding him that she could walk right across the street to any of his competitors, if she wished.
And she was right.
For, the local press and almost all of the entertainment columnists had reviewed her act and given her plenty of printed praise. She even had business managers and agents hanging around, all trying to sign her up, promising her a job in Las Vegas or New York, or a European tour, or whatever. But, so far, she was playing it cool, just concerning herself with her present position only to see how things would work out during the next month.
To Angela, there was plenty of time for the big time. For the moment, she was enjoying what she was doing. Why go big time, if they only wanted to change you over and mess around with you? Who needed that?
That evening, in the audience, Harry and Big Bill, from a front-row table, watched the show while sip-ping free champagne (courtesy of club owner John-son). They impatiently put up with the generation-old jokes of the Master of Ceremonies, vociferously urging him to "Bring on the broads!"
That finally occurred, as the band swung into its stripping musical repertoire, and the group of girls did their body-shimmying jobs with a fair amount of titillating talent.
The house lights dimmed, the big spotlight blazed on center stage, and into that hot white light stepped ...
Angela.
She danced, shimmying her way into center stage. She was wearing a large feather hat, with her long red hair rolled up inside. The only other articles of clothing she was wearing were two feathers, which she carried at strategic locations, holding them in such a way that they covered her breasts and cunt.
The crowd, many of them regulars, had never seen her do this particular bit before, and started applauding loudly before she made any further movements. Of course they had not seen it before; it was a brand new routine she had rehearsed for the past two weeks, and she really wanted to show it off in celebration of her anniversary.
As she strode on stage so that she was only a few feet from the table where Harry and Big Bill were sitting, Harry's prick began to prong itself into life, tugging at his pants. Big Bill's wang was also alert, though not quite as erect. Big Bill was using a kind of intellectual Yoga on it, ordering it to keep hidden and stay retracted until he was ready to use it. So far, for a change, his psychological approach was working fairly well, because his erection was a mere tremor compared to Harry's full-fledged hardon.
As Angela bowed, acknowledging the applause, Harry and Big Bill, by craning their necks, got a pretty good look at Angela's ass, its soft round mounds pointing skyward like softly-rolling hills. She had also applied plenty of suntan lotion to her already-browned body, so that she looked much like a bronze goddess as she bowed.
And, when she straightened up, she moved the feathers so that, for just a fraction of a second, her lovely cunt was revealed, silky pubic hairs and all.
Harry caught sight, and started drooling. Big Bill spotted her pussy, too, and his blue eyes glowed like twin turquoises.
The band began playing, something slyly insinuating. Angela began to dance; and, to strip.
She moved, keeping her torso almost stationary, so that her haunches were in constant motion, like a spinning top. She swung her ass as she stood there on her feet. Then, she started moving her feet, making little steps from side to side, sometimes dropping her head slightly as she did so.
The effect was both subtle and electrifying.
Her beautiful buttocks were really moving now, so she began to move her feathers as well, delicately slipping them in first this direction, then that direction, letting the audience get a fast, less-than-asecond glance at her tits. Her nipples were taut from sexual excitation, and her breasts as firm and symrttrical as always.
The audience was doing more than clapping; they were stomping their feet and cheering, wolf whistles and all, plus the usual shouts of, "Take it off!"
Even Harry, his prick shuddering so strongly he was about ready to unzip his fly, started shouting, "Take it all off, sweetheart!"
Angela gave him a quick smile. Using her two feathers, she knocked her hat to the stage, letting her long red hair cascade down her bare back. Then, for good measure, she spun herself around, so that the audience could see not only her hair but those mound-round buttocks of hers as well.
The applause was deafening.
And, Big Bill's rod, despite his instructions to the contrary, became quite contrary, and started to erect itself. He could feel it pulling against his pants, and slipped a hand beneath the table to quiet it down.
Angela was going into a floor straddle, lowering her legs into a split, placing her body right on the floor of the stage. Her legs were spread apart, but her feathers were still concealing her three main points of frontal interest, as she kept her buttocks moving and grooving, vibrating like that proverbial bowl of jello.
As she came closer to the floor, she seemed to be going down in slow motion. Moving, in fact, as if she was going down on somebody from a most peculiar, most difficult angled position.
When she finally hit the floor, her legs spread out and she began to move her head, shaking it back and forth, letting her hair spring out and splay around her face and shoulders and even dip down toward her fits. The rest of her body remained al-most motionless. The feathers, however, were still covering the sacred, "look but don't touch" areas.
The crowd -- lots of guys with their hands on their cocks to keep from creaming their jeans -- gave her thunderous applause. Several even stood up, stomping their feet and screaming hoarsely, "Take off those fucking feathers, you teasing bitch! We want to see your fucking cunt!"
Of course, the management would hardly permit such comments to be made in the presence of ladies-especially the particular lady on stage -- so those horny guys who couldn't keep their dirty mouths shut got thrown out, post-haste, with no apologies at all.
The rest of the audience managed to restrain itself from rushing the stage and raping Angela on the spot -- due, more than anything else, to the ubiquitous bouncers placed at strategic positions -- as, again moving almost in slow motion, she began to rise, her legs coming together until she was again standing on stage at her full height.
Then, deftly, ever so subtlety, she removed one feather, revealing her right breast, while she began to do a basic, erotic series of bumps-and-grinds. The crowd ate it up.
Harry, aroused beyond restraint, came right in his pants.
Since he had taken the precaution of wearing an athletic supporter -- waterproof, the label claimed -- he was not too uncomfortable at the sudden outburst of sperm. In fact, he felt one hell of a lot better after getting his rocks off in this manner.
Not so for Big Bill, whose intellectual Yoga was causing his erection further physical, as well as mental, strains. He cursed his cock, wishing that the show was over. He had big plans afterward, which he had hastily formulated on the way to the club. Plans which, naturally, included Angela.
Angela, who had now dropped the other feather to reveal her left breast to the assembled audience. The crowd was really going wild.
What show-stopping climax could she now give them, to really make them come in their collective drawers?
She flipped both feathers over her shoulders, catching them by the tips. At the same time, she thrust her wide-open cunt, its pussy lips spread apart enough so that those at the front tables could see the dark pink membranes. As she thrust herself forward, almost in a gesture of defiance, her erectile clit and nipples seemed to say, "This is mine, not yours; look, but don't touch!"
Some of the audience, however, got carried away, and started to storm the stage.
The bouncers put a stop to that in a hurry, aided by several security guards, as Angela, blowing kisses to the audience, flipped the feathers at some of the people crowding about the stage, almost causing another riot.
Then, shimmying in the traditional manner-but, completely naked -- she shook her way backstage.
Big Bill wiped his forehead. He'd seen a lot of stripping before, but nothing to compare with this. He really wanted to get his cock inside Angela's cunt now.
As for Harry, he was trembling like the last leaf on a tree in autumn, his eyes bugging out as if he was being throttled. His woman had really turned him on. His prick was throbbing with uplift again. How-ever, he had sense and knowledge enough of his woman's after-show proclivities to tell Big Bill, "Give her a half hour to sign the autographs and meet her fans. Then, we'll go backstage and celebrate, like we did the first time, remember?"
Big Bill, drawing in his breath sharply, remembered only too well.
He had had to watch Harry fuck Angela, after she had turned him on, too. He wanted na encores on that scene. No, it must be him, not Harry, who made it with Angela this time.
So, they waited, drinking their champagne, while time -- and more time -- passed.
Finally, about 40 minutes later, they went back-stage.
Harry had been right. There were only a few hangers-on left, and they got rid of them fast and got themselves inside Angela's dressing room.
Big Bill had brought along a fresh bottle of champagne, in an ice bucket. They sat around and had a fine taste of the bubbly. Angela was wrapped in her white silk dressing gown, but enough of her cleavage was revealed to excite both men. Naturally, she didn't mind this a bit.
"A most excellent performance, Angela," Big Bill said, shaking her hand, making sure the tips of his fingers brushed against the tips of her breasts. He could feel her skin respond by warming quickly, but her eyes gave no further indication of interest as she thanked him.
"Great, honey, you really knocked 'em dead!" Harry said, his hand dropping quickly to her crotch, trying to slip through the folds of the gown. Angela smiled sweetly, picking up his perspiring palm and placing it back into his lap.
Big Bill, encouraged by that particular gambit, hastily poured Angela some more champagne. He wanted to ensure that she drank more than either Harry or himself. He also wanted to make sure that she drank the correct potion for his purposes. Fingering an aphrodisiac, he slipped it into her drink, confident that neither had noticed.
As she sipped her champagne, her eyes narrowed slightly, turning cool as two pieces of Chinese jade. Big Bill caught that, wondering if she'd caught on. But, she continued sipping, as if nothing unusual was going on.
Harry, as usual, gulped down his drink, and poured himself another. He polished that off pretty fast, and poured himself another. His eyes were getting a trifle droopy, and Big Bill was more than pleased.
"So you really liked my new act, then?" Angela said, apparently to no one in particular.
"Right on!" Harry said, sounding his hippest.
"Exquisite," Big Bill said, placing his hand on Angela's knee for a few quick seconds. When she made no objection, he removed it, thinking it was a very encouraging sign, hoping the aphrodisiac was taking effect.
Suddenly, Angela yawned.
She stretched her arms as she did so, and the front of her gown came open, revealing her lovely dark skin and beautiful breasts, everything right down to her navel. Big Bill's eyes connected with those breasts. He could hardly help himself, as he licked his lips in admiration. He could hardly wait to get his teeth into them.
"I don't know ... why you're yawning ... I'm the one ... who feels sleepy ..." Harry mumbled, his mouth opening wide. Big Bill was to blame for that; he'd slipped some sleeping powder into Harry's drink, and the stuff was just beginning to take effect.
So Big Bill leaned back, smiling but not too obviously, as he sipped his champagne and waited patiently.
"I feel like fucking," Angela said, in the same flat inflection as she might have said, "I'm going to bed." As she said it, she removed her dressing gown, and now all of her was on view to Harry and Big Bill. The latter, noticing the fresh dampness on her bush, smiled encouragingly at Angela, who puckered her lips in return, as if blowing him a kiss -- or indicating that she wanted to blow him, period.
Big Bill's prick began to come alive, straining at the confining contours of his pants. This time, nothing was going to put his prick down again. It was going to stay stiff and solid, until it got itself fucked right out of shape.
Harry staggered to his feet, stretching and yawning. He had dropped his champagne glass on the floor. His eyes were almost closed as he weaved toward his woman ... and fell right onto her.
He was, apparently, out of it again.
He couldn't even hold onto her as he fell into her naked lap, his arms flopping loosely at his sides. She grabbed him by the shoulders, allowing his head to rest in her crotch, while she stroked his hair and began to speak in a chanting style, "Poor Harry ... Harry's gone to sleep ... now how can Harry ... fuck Angela ... if Harry's ... going to sleep ... instead of fuck ..."
Big Bill cleared his throat.
Angela ignored him.
Instead, she placed Harry's mouth against her clit, as if she hoped he still had enough strength to give her a touch of tongue.
'POOR HARRY ... PASSING OUT ... WHEN ANGELA ... WANTS TO FUCK .. SUCK ANGELA... USE YOUR MOUTH ... SUCK ANGELA'S CUNT .. CHEW ANGELA'S CLIT ... HARRY ... PLEASE ..."
Big Bill cleared his throat again.
And, again, Angela ignored him.
She reached down and unzipped Harry's fly. She found his prick, still stiff, and began to fondle it between her fingers. She could feel it responding to her delicate, talented touch, as she peeled back the foreskin and ran her thumb over the tip. It shuddered in her hand, as if ready to fire off its load with just a few more fingers' worth of fondling.
Big Bill, frustrated beyond belief, sat there, his nerves on edge, sipping champagne. Should he be cool or hot, play it direct or subtle? He decided on directness. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his prick, and, standing up, he moved over to where Angela was sitting and held his stiff rod just an inch from her pouting, puckered lips.
"Angela, this is an all-day sucker," he said, his voice mesmerizing, hypnotic, his inflection as sensuous and titillating as possible. "The more you suck it, the longer it lasts. It will last all day. It will last all night, too. Now, Angela, if you will start to suck it, you will encounter ecstasy beyond your wildest dreams." He paused, looking into Angela's eyes, which were now as round as saucers, and almost as vacant as the orbs of a corpse. "Suck it, Angela, and I guarantee you instant happiness. SUCK ... SUCK ...SUCK ..."
Her mouth unpuckered enough for her tongue to stick out and touch the tip of his prick.
She licked it, tentatively. Then, she stuck out her pinkish, smooth tongue further, and licked around the tip. She moved her mouth closer, her lips touching the tip now, as her tongue began to French his stiff instrument.
Big Bill trembled with ecstasy, his prick throbbing with excitement, as Angela, still fondling Harry's dick with her hands, opened her mouth and started to suck off Big Bill.
She drew his cock inside her mouth. Her warm and moist mouth membranes clamped down upon it, holding it fast. Her tongue began to cream it as it reamed her mouth. Simultaneously, she could feel her pussy getting wet, her juices pouring out. She didn't even seem to care that the stuff was dripping all over her dressing gown, as she continued with her sexual manipulations on both men.
She could feel Harry's cock getting even harder between her fingers, but, she squeezed it once too often. Harry did what any other man would do under excessive stimulation. He came. Right in her hands.
A series of short, spurting bursts, which she helped bring on by keeping up her squeezing pressure, feeling his thick, sticky juice flowing into her palms and over her fingers. And, at the same time, feeling her own orgasmic reactions beginning, her cunt churning and her torso twisting as she quickly moved one hand into her crotch, not so much to catch her flow as to get her own thumb inside her churning cunt and to get her forefinger tweaking her trembling clit.
In short, auto-eroticism combined with a hand job on Harry.
Big Bill, seeing this situation, made a sudden change of plans. Though his prick was stuffed solidly into Angela's mouth, almost all the way back into her throat, he wanted to fuck her more than he wanted her to suck him off. He suddenly realized that he may have made a mistake by sticking his prick into her mouth first, and, trying to rectify that situation, he tried to pull it loose.
But, as his throbbing balls and shivering prick suddenly told him -- too late.
Angela's tongue, her mouth membranes, all the pressure from her lips -- all together, they affected Big Bill the same way her hand pressure had affected Harry.
Before Big Bill could change places, could get his prick into her pussy ... He came.
He tried to yank his exploding instrument from her mouth, but she held firm, even clamping her teeth upon his jumping member, gulping down his juice as fast as his steady stream could keep coming. She gobbled him good, and all he could do was to enjoy the trip. Her sucking, masticating mouth drained away his juice as fast as he could pour it out and down her thirsty throat.
In desperation, he tried to pry Harry's cock loose from her hands, to get Harry out of the way so that he could at least get his forefinger inside her cunt. But, no good; his prick was going soft. He could feel it receding, she was sucking it much too soft for him to do anything with it even if he had managed to get it next to her chattering pussy lips in the next few seconds.
No, her hands were crushing Harry's cock, her lips were squashing Big Bill's prick.
And Angela -- as, it seemed, most of the time -- was the one who was having the most fun, enjoying the maximum of sexual kicks, more so than the two men who coveted her cunt.
Pussy power, for the moment, was completely in charge.