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The Dancing Diva free porn video
The Dancing Diva
By Cal Y. Pygia
The silver sphere spun beneath the high, vaulted ceiling,
casting a splintered rainbow of flashing lights over the
men seated at the small tables, the cocktail waitresses in
their abbreviated costumes, the small, elevated stage upon
which the topless dancers pranced, and over the curves of
Daphne?s swelling breasts, rounded hips, sleek, firm
buttocks, and long, tapering legs.
Daphne loved to dance. More to the point, she loved to be
the center of attention, and nothing focused men?s interest
as much as a beautiful woman dancing with her bouncing
breasts and flexing buttocks on display beneath swirling
lights while rock and roll music blared from hidden,
oversize speakers. Daphne was paid well for exhibiting her
charms, because the patrons of Dancing Divas were generous
despite - or maybe because of - their intoxication. Daphne
liked to think the men were intoxicated by her beauty,
rather than the liquor they drank non-stop from the moment
they arrived in the gentlemen?s club until closing at 3:00
AM.
Most of the club?s patrons conducted themselves fairly
well. There were wolf whistles and comments, of course, and
even some touching of her calves, thighs, and buttocks,
although contact with her or the other dancers was,
strictly speaking, prohibited. She didn?t mind a hand on
her leg or ass, but she didn?t like men trying to grope her
breasts, which, after all, had cost several thousand
dollars, and she especially didn?t appreciate the few whom
were emboldened enough by the alcohol they?d consumed to
venture to grab her crotch. None ever had. Daphne was far
too quick and lithe for some drunk to put his hands
anywhere she didn?t want them. A hand on her leg or ass was
good for business, but, beyond that, as far as Daphne was
concerned, a patron?s admiration became rudeness.
One of the regular customers, a short, fat, baldheaded man
named Sam, was seated at his usual table. Located a mere
two feet from the stage on which Daphne bumped and ground,
flaunting her breasts and buttocks as she danced, Sam?s
table offered an close view of Daphne?s charms and was
within touching distance. More than a few times already,
Sam had approached Daphne with a folded dollar bill in his
sweaty, meaty palm, slid the money under the waistband of
her G-string, and patted her bottom or caressed her thigh.
Her thong was festooned with ones and fives. There were
even a few tens and twenties among the bills she wore like
a garland around her waist. Many of the bills were from
Sam. Each had bought him a pat or a touch or a fondle or a
squeeze or a pinch.
Sam was drunker than usual tonight, and he yelled
suggestive comments to Daphne as he watched her flounce and
bounce upon the raised stage. Most of them were drowned out
by the rock music that blared throughout the
discoth?que, but Daphne did hear a few of his remarks.
They were predictably coarse. She pretended not to hear
them, hoping Sam might be discouraged by her silence
disregard of his invitations and propositions. He wasn?t,
not tonight. ?Wanna fuck you!? he cried. ?Wanna put it in
your deep, hot ass!?
Daphne edged away from his table, gyrating her hips at a
table occupied by a young black man who was dressed like a
pimp. The black man grinned up at her. ?Shake it, momma!?
he called, tucking a folded five under her thong.
She smiled at him as she cupped her breasts in her hands.
?Hoo-eee!? he cried, laughing.
The night wore on. Candy relieved Daphne, who retired to
the dressing room to catch her breath, count her tips, and
repair her makeup for her next performance, half an hour
from now. She slid the folded bills from her waistband,
unfolding and smoothing them flat on her makeup table. In
the past hour, she?d earned another two hundred dollars,
making a grand total of $1,200 for the seven hours she?d
been dancing. At Dancing Divas, the dancers decided their
own schedules, but they had to notify Tom Eddings, the
club?s manager, a week ahead as to how many hours they
planned to work each night. Daphne had elected to work
eight hours tonight. She wished she?d decided to work only
half that number, but then she?d probably have earned only
half of the money she?d made in tips. With an hour left to
go, after her break, she?d maybe make another couple
hundred. One thousand four hundred dollars wasn?t bad for
eight hours of dancing, she thought.
She smiled at the thought of Sam, drunk on his ass, patting
her bottom and shoving tens and twenties under her
waistband. Alone, he?d probably contributed several
hundreds to her night?s take. Maybe she should shake her
ass in his face at the end of her next show, by way of
saying thanks.
She turned to the mirror framed by the illuminated light
bulbs and checked her makeup. A girl had to look her best
on stage. Daphne blotted perspiration from her brow and
neck, applied a bit more foundation, dabbed her cheeks with
powder, outlined her full, soft lips with lipstick, and
rubbed some blush into her stiff nipples and areolas,
making them a richer, riper pink. She smiled at the
beautiful, full-bosomed young blonde in the mirror, and the
blonde smiled back at her, a playful glimmer in her
sapphire eyes.
?Darling,? Daphne said to her reflection, ?you are divine!?
No wonder the guys emptied their wallets in tribute to her
beauty. There was no need for false modesty. Like the wolf
whistles, suggestive comments, outright propositions,
caresses and pinches, and dollar bills stuffed into her
thong, the mirror also made no secret of her beauty. Daphne
Dee Light was a truly gorgeous woman.
Her break over, Daphne resumed her place on the stage. A
rock song blared and she went through the routine motions,
stretching and twisting and writhing to make her breasts
jiggle, her ass twitch and tremble, her tummy roll, and her
calves and thighs flex. She pouted, licked her lips,
gasped, moaned, and groaned, thrusting her pelvis rapidly
back and forth, and working her buttocks. The men stared at
her, fascinated. Their eyes were wide, their mouths agape,
and their fists pounded their tabletops as they roared
their encouragement and approval. A dozen men tucked money
under her waistband, patting her fanny and caressing her
thighs. In a few minutes, her waist was again wreathed in
legal tender. As before, Sam was her greatest and most
generous fan, shoving tens, twenties, and even a fifty into
her G-string. She smiled at him, and he grinned back.
As the end of the hour approached, Daphne crossed the
stage, dancing close to Sam?s table. She bent low, so that
her buttocks jutted out, offering the short, heavyset,
baldheaded man a close-up view of her golden globes. She
shook her ass in his face as she looked back at him,
between her spread legs, grinning at his lust-enflamed
stare. She saw him rise from his table, his crotch bulging
despite the enormous quantity of alcohol he?d consumed, a
handful of bills in his pudgy hand. She was glad she?d paid
him the honor of displaying her ass to him in such a
suggestive and sexy manner. It looked as if her gesture was
going to pay off richly.
Sam reached the edge of the circular stage. He reached out
with the handful of money, and Daphne flexed her ass cheeks
encouragingly. The drunken patron grasped the G-string?s
thin waistband, to tug it outward, but lost his balance and
fell. As he plummeted to the floor, he ripped her thongs
from her, showering the stage with the dollars that had
been ticked inside the waistband and revealing Daphne?s
secret to the crowd of her admirers. They gasped, their
eyes huge and their mouths wide, as they saw that their
favorite dancing diva was a transsexual!
Below the carefully trimmed thatch of pubic hair that
decorated her lower abdomen, a cock and pair of balls
dangled, jiggling like fleshly jewels. Above the loud
music, Daphne heard the gasps and cries of astonishment. A
few men looked angry. They stood abruptly and strode from
the club, shaking their heads in disgust. My career is
over, Daphne thought, feeling tears flood her eyes.
She noticed that Sam wasn?t hurt, at least. The rotund
drunk had managed to stand. He tottered, staring at his
favorite topless dancer?s penis, dangling before the shaved
scrotum between her long, sleek thighs. Sam blinked,
squinted, and stared again, obviously trying to sort out
the conflicting images of Daphne?s lovely face, full, high,
round breasts, slender build, concave stomach, rounded
hips, firm, globular ass, long, smooth legs--and cock and
balls. After a moment, he grinned and began to applaud
loudly, in obvious appreciation of Daphne?s transsexual
beauty. A moment later, another patron joined in the
applause. Within seconds, the many men who?d remained in
the club were also clapping. The house resounded with their
loud, heartfelt applause, to which they added whistles and
cheers. One by one, scores of her admirers approached the
stage, showering her with money. She watched as hundreds,
perhaps thousands, of dollars were cast at her feet. For
fifteen minutes, it rained money.
Daphne went to the edge of the stage, stooped, and kissed
Sam upon the mouth. When the fat, bald man cupped her
breasts in his plump hands, squeezing the soft, sleek
mounds, she neither pulled away nor protested. Next, she
suffered him to squeeze her full, firm ass cheeks. She also
allowed him to stroke and caress her genitals, thankful
that Sam had remained faithful to her in his admiration of
her beauty, even after he?d inadvertently revealed her
secret. As far as Daphne was concerned, he?d earned the
right to sample her charms any time he liked.
From that night forward, Daphne?s performances at Dancing
Divas always ended the same way--with the revelation of her
secret, thunderous applause, a shower of thousands of
dollars, and Sam?s soft caresses of her breasts, her
buttocks, and her cock and balls.
Gert
- 12.01.2021
- 19
- 0
