Terri
- 4 years ago
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Terri free porn video
This is the second story I have submitted, but the first
has yet to be posted on the website. As with the other
story, others are free to use the story, characters or
ideas, but I ask that my story not be posted to other
websites or reprinted without permission. Thank you.
Terri
By GSElvis
The thing that set Terri apart from the other girls was the
size of her breast implants. She didn't settle for just an
ordinary D-cup, or even double D. She got these huge bags
of silicon that made her look like she had two watermelons
sticking out of the front of her. I guess as a stripper--
sorry, "exotic dancer"--she thought it was good for her
job. I mean, her breasts set her apart from the other
strippers, who had big chests but still looked almost
normal. But the guys just loved Terri's boobs and they made
her money. On top of that, she was tall and had a little
trouble keeping her weight down, so she also had big hips
and big thighs. Lying on top of her must have been like
lying on a lumpy mattress. That's what made her stage name
so funny--Starr Light. There was nothing "light" about her.
To me, she was always just Terri. She worked at Exotica, an
adult nightclub off the Interstate 70 and Route 5
interchange. I went in there all the time, and I stood out,
too. Not like the other weirdoes--the beefy, sweaty
truckers or the guys that couldn't help jacking off in
front of the rest of the world. Most of them would frighten
small children if they were standing alone on a school
street corner. I was different because I was normal. I was
the guy you'd see every day at work, or taking the kids to
the soccer game, or pushing a cart at the grocery store.
About 5'10", average build, a little potbelly, the start of
male pattern baldness. My clothes were clean but out of the
sale bin--jeans, Dockers, button down shirts, collared golf
shirts. I worked on the line at the car assembly plant off
Exit 10B on the loop expressway. I had a wife and two kids.
But Exotica, and Terri in particular, were my guilty
pleasures. My wife didn't know about it. Every Tuesday, I'd
take the few extra dollars I could pocket, and head on
over. She thought I was bowling, if you can believe it! I
feel bad about it now. She was so trusting. She actually
loved me, and believed the crap I told her. I tried to tell
her the truth, after. But you can imagine how that went.
Not good.
So, let me try the truth on you, and see how you like it.
And if you don't believe me, T.S. 'Cause it actually
happened.
It was Tuesday, June 5, and my night out started just like
all the others. After work, I went home. Dinner was another
zoo, with the kids hollering at each other, and my wife
slapping something cheap and easy on the plates. We
shoveled it down, and fanned out from the table. The kids
headed to the television, my wife cleaned up, and I grabbed
my bowling bag and headed for the door. To this day, the
bowling alibi cracks me up. If she had actually unzipped
the bag and looked, she'd seen the ball was as new as the
day I bought it--no scratches, no marks, nothing.
And she never asked how I did or why I was out so late. I
guess she just figured Tuesday was my night out. Now, I'm
sorry she didn't catch me, or question me, just once. This
might never have happened. I'd still have my old job, my
wife and kids, my old life. Instead, I'm just a toy for
people like you.
Anyway, I got to Exotica that night and headed straight for
my spot right by the stage. The music's blaring, the lights
are flashing and spinning, and some young, leggy thing was
making a big production on the pole, trying to get the guys
to wedge a few bucks into her G-string. I, of course, saved
my dough and waited for my gal Terri. I nursed my beer and
enjoyed the view.
Finally, the music changes and here comes Terri. She always
played the same tune, some rap song with a heavy beat that
I'd never heard outside Exotica. And she'd strut out on
those incredibly high heels, swinging her long legs and
gyrating her hips in a way that no normal woman could or
would. And her boobs, my God, were already bouncing like
crazy. That night, she was wearing this incredible outfit
that looked like a cross between a bikini and a showgirl's
outfit, with this teeny strapless bra and red panties, with
these long beaded things that hung from around her waist
and swung as she walked. Her hair was long, straight and
brunette, and hung down all the way to her waist. Wow! I
mean, every part of her body was bouncing or quivering or
swaying. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
And here's the best part. As soon as she hit the stage, she
looked for me and we made eye contact. That's what kept me
coming back every time--that magical, electric jolt that
passed between us. A sly smile crossed her face. I was her
best customer, and she knew it. I could enjoy the show, and
afterwards, she'd come right over to me. Then, we'd spend
the rest of the evening together.
On the stage, though, it was about making money from the
other slobs. So the music kept on pounding, and she kept on
dancing and writhing against the pole. Soon, the guys next
to the stage were holding bills up into the light, and
she'd gyrate over. They'd shove fives and tens at her until
it looked like her waist was sprouting green lettuce. But I
kept my money and kept my seat. There was time for that,
later.
Finally, the song, if you could call it that, ended. And it
was like the spell was over. All of a sudden, she stopped
and walked off the stage, as normally as a woman with that
body could. Right for my table. And I could feel the grin
on my face, this big Cheshire cat grin that I never managed
to have in the rest of my life.
"Hey, sugar," she said. Her voice was amazing--this soft,
throaty, feminine purr. And I was the only one she ever
called 'sugar.' It was short for 'sugar daddy', which I
didn't mind. Every buck in my wallet was for her.
I gave her my standard greeting. "Hey, babe. What's
shakin?"
And she purred her standard answer. "All of me, hon. For
you." Okay, it's not Shakespeare. But it turned me on,
every time.
She slowly reached out her hand and took mine. Her tits
were amazing, but I couldn't take my eyes off her face. It
was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. The proportions
of her face were perfect, with high cheekbones, thin nose,
and wide mouth with full, pouty lips. But her eyes! They
were big and wide with these piercing green irises that
seemed to reach down and touch your soul. At that moment, I
would take whatever she would give. I was in her power.
She raised my hand and I stood up out of my chair like I
was lifted on a puff of air. She led me from the stage room
to the back rooms where the girls gave the customers their
lap dances. Or, as I liked to say, where the private
performances happened.
There, the bouncers waited. They were these big guys in
muscles shirts who looked like they inhaled steroids. And
they never smiled, ever. Their job was to watch their
girls, to keep you from going too far. They made sure that
you sat in the chair with your hands glued to the armrests.
No matter what the girls did to you, no matter how turned
on you got, no matter how much you spewed into your pants,
you had to sit in the chair with your clothes on and your
hands down. Otherwise, if you crossed the line, these
assholes would grab you and your night was over in a hurry.
And you probably weren't getting back in on any other
night, either.
That was the part about Exotica that drove me crazy, the
bouncers. They weren't shy about watching, either, though
nothing that happened in those rooms ever seemed to turn
them on. When I was with Terri, I wanted us to be alone.
But, every time, the same thing would happen. Terri would
be grinding her hips into my lap, or rubbing her amazing
tits into my chest, or licking my face with her talented
tongue. And I knew it was turning her on, too. Her nipples
would be rock hard, her face was flushed and hot, and I
could smell her arousal.
Then, my eyes would make contact with one of the goons, and
the moment was gone. It was like someone threw a bucket of
cold water on me. Some people get turned on by other people
watching, but not me. It was as if we were caught, maybe by
someone who was going to spill the beans to my wife. That
thought always got to me, and my night was about over. All
that I could usually do after that was to pay up and slink
out the door. Back home to my real life.
That night, though, I wasn't going to let it happen. As
Terri got me to the room, and before she got started, I
whispered to her, "Hey, babe, how about getting out of
here? Just once. You and me, really alone."
At first, she didn't like the idea. For the first time
ever, I saw a frown tarnish her beautiful face. Then, after
a few seconds, her smile was back. She took a quick look
over her shoulder, and whispered back so only I could hear,
"Okay, sugar. Afterwards, I'll meet you in the parking
lot."
Man, that was the most erotic thing she had ever said to
me. The whole time she was giving me the lap dance, I was
thinking about after. What I would say to her, what I would
tell her. And, let me tell you, she was on fire that night
herself. She writhed and twisted and licked me all over.
Like she really meant it. Like she'd have done all that
even if I wasn't going to pay for it. Before too long, I
came into my pants. It was great! I didn't mind the fact
that I'd have to change again in the car and figure out a
way to clean myself up before I got home. Besides the
money, that was the price I had to pay to be with Terri.
See, Terri made me feel alive. Not just another doormat
with a job and a family and responsibilities. When I was
with Terri, I was a real man. I loved it.
So, that night, I followed the rules and kept my hands off
her. When it was over, I gave her my money as a satisfied
customer does. But this time, as I walked out past the
bouncers and into the cool night air, my Cheshire cat grin
was still on my face. Because my evening with Terri wasn't
over, not just yet.
I leaned against my car, and waited. After a few minutes,
the side door opened, and out she walked. She was wrapped
in an overcoat, and looked almost normal. But I knew what
was underneath the coat, and the thought started to turn me
on again, even before she got to me.
This time, though, when she spoke, her voice was tense and
serious. "Get in your car, quick. Before someone sees."
That snapped me out of my daydream, but this was still
pretty good. I opened the door and slid across the back
seat, and she slid in behind me. "Get down!" she commanded.
She sounded nervous, almost afraid.
I wondered what was wrong, but obeyed. We slid down until
we were lying on the back seat, facing each other. Finally,
we were alone, where no one could see. Somewhere where I
could tell Terri what I really thought. The lights from the
parking lot shone in through the windows, and we could see
each other clearly. This was the moment I was waiting for.
"Listen," I said, "thanks for coming out. I know the club
doesn't want you seeing us alone. But I just had to tell
you, Terri. I love you. I know it's strange. I mean, I come
here and this is your job and all. But when I'm with you, I
feel alive! It's like we have some sort of connection. And
I know you must feel something for me, too. You could have
any guy in the club, but it's always me, every time.
Right?"
Terri was staring at me with those wonderful, green eyes,
listening carefully. "Yes," she said. "I do have feelings
for you. But so what?" Her delicate fingers gripped the
ring finger of my left hand, the one that held my gold
wedding ring. "You're married, maybe with a kid or two. And
a job. How does a stripper you see once a week fit into the
rest of your life?"
I knew that was coming, and I had an answer. It was
something I had been thinking about for weeks. I swallowed
hard before I spoke. My throat was suddenly dry. "Well,
actually, I don't like the rest of my life very much. I
come here once a week because, when I'm with you, I feel
complete, the best man I can be. I can't explain it. It's
like, if I could keep that feeling, to be able to be with
you all the time, I wouldn't need anything else. It would
be Heaven on Earth."
Terri smiled, a warm loving smile. But her voice had a
sharp edge when she spoke. "That's great. But, again, so
what? If I told you the only way you could be with me all
the time, was to give up everything else--your wife, your
family, your job? Would you do it?"
I didn't hesitate. "Yes, absolutely." I probably should
have thought more about saying that, what that might mean.
But I didn't. I was an idiot.
Terri gasped with relief. "You don't know how long I've
waited for someone to say that to me. But you're right, I
knew it would be you. You're the one who will take me away
from all of this."
I was so happy, I laughed out loud. She laughed, too, and
we hugged each other. It was going just as I had dreamed.
What happened next, though, was something I never could
have imagined. We were still laying next to each other in
the back seat of my car when she sort of pushed herself
away from my embrace, then reached behind her neck. I heard
something snap, like a buckle unbuckling, and the skin
across the front of her neck began to loosen, and the flesh
on her face started to quiver.
As I watched in horror, the skin on Terri's head, from the
neck up, began to fold forward from a seam in the back of
her head and neck, until Terri's head had completely peeled
away. Underneath, it was no longer Terri, but a thin-faced,
middle-aged man with a cheesy mustache, the same kind of
geeky guy who came into Exotica every night. And it was a
male voice that then spoke. "This, friend, is the real me."
That was too much for me. I passed out.
I don't know how long I was out. But when I woke up, I felt
funny. My clothes were lying next to me in the car's
footwells, and I felt as if my legs, arms and torso were
encased in a rubbery shell, like a scuba suit. A hood was
being pulled over my face and around my head, and I heard
the sound of a zipper running down the back of my head and
neck.
The male stranger spoke again. "That should just about do
it." Hands gripped my throat and two thumbs pressed hard
into the base of my neck.
I tried to move, but he was on top of me. I was frantic.
"Wait! What are you doing?"
In the next second, I heard the sound of a snap clicking
into place behind my neck. Then, suddenly, all I felt was
pain, as if a thousand needles started pricking me all over
my body. The suit covering me got hot, and began to twist
and constrict, squeezing my neck, rib cage, and waist. I
wanted to scream, to run, do something, but I couldn't.
It seemed to take forever. I thought I was going to die.
But, finally, it stopped. One second, it's like I'm being
tortured to death. The next, I'm lying in the back of my
car, alone. The guy, whoever he was, was long gone, taking
my old clothes and wallet with him.
And me? Something terrifying and wonderful had happened. My
first clue was right in front of me when I opened my eyes.
Two huge breasts, pushed up into my sight by the underwire
bra I was wearing, were right in front of my face. The
nipples were hard, and the skin on my upper chest was
flushed and sweaty. I sat up, and my boobs swung like two
big pendulums into position. I used my thin, feminine
fingers to caress myself, bringing myself down from the
high. My long brunette hair was all over me, and I tossed
my head to enjoy the feel of it. Between my legs, my cunt
was warm and wet, hungry with desire. It was like I had
just had great sex, and I wanted more.
I left the car, and as soon as I slammed the door behind
me, it was like it wasn't mine anymore. I turned my back on
it and headed back into the club, walking on my four inch
heels, and my hips moving with that slow, seductive sway
across the parking lot. I can't describe the feeling. My
heart was thumping, and I was still hot and horny. I
couldn't wait to get in there and start my set on stage, to
do to other men what Terri had done to me.
I knew just what to do, too. I don't know how old that body
suit was, but it was as if I knew what hundreds of women
over hundreds of years, in many different cultures, knew
about how to please and seduce men. Every night, I did my
thing, and I was damn good at it.
And let me tell you something else. I got to appreciate the
bouncers. They kept the creeps from getting too grabby, and
that was all right with me. I was there to do a job, to
make money for Exotica. I made lots of it.
Who was I making money for? You don't want to know too much
about him. Before I became Terri, I had just assumed that
Terri had a place of her own, some cool pad she owned from
all the money she made, complete with kinky sex toys and a
wardrobe full of slinky, seductive clothes. Actually,
though, all the girls of Exotica live in the big house
behind the club, with the Master. He owns us, all of us,
body and soul. And there ain't no bouncers telling him to
keep his hands down, or his cock in his pants. We wait in
our rooms until he comes for us, then each girl gives him
everything our bodies and our warped minds can deliver. He
uses us until he's done, then he moves to the next.
That is what's so funny about the old me thinking that I
could ever run away with my gal Terri. The Master owns
Terri, and whoever is inside Terri. He orders, and I obey.
Unless someone replaces me, that's how its going to be. So,
every night, I'm looking for the next Terri, some desperate
guy who wants Terri for his very own. And, as soon as he
asks, I'm going to give her to him. All of her.
So, sugar, tell me. Wanna be me?
Uma
- 22.01.2023
- 20
- 0
