At the age of twenty-two I started getting my kicks through exhibitionism. It started after I landed my first job and moved in with a biker chick who picked me up at a rock concert. She was a tall, muscular blonde, a Nordic war-goddess who worked out twice a day, loved leather and had the strongest tongue I have ever known. She enjoyed showing me off and she bought me these very revealing costumes of satin and suede and then cruised around town with me on the back of her bike. We would go on road trips over to Sturgis or up to Telluride. She liked to make me dance in front of her friends after which we would dive into our tent for some hot lovin’.
She was very possessive and demanding which kind of turned me on but I didn’t let her push me around too much; I’m not putting a tattoo on my body for anybody. It took a lot of prodding but she finally persuaded me to strip at a local club on amateur night. I was nervous as hell the first time but I was damn good. I didn’t come out in the typical, simple costume that most girls wore, I came out in full regalia, coat, hat, skirt, blouse, with all the foundation garments a lady should wear, and I didn’t just quickly get nude and dance, I actually stripped. I had the dance lessons and gymnastics behind me to put on a good show too and after I overcame my nervousness I had captivated the place. I got offers to become a regular but I was afraid someone I worked or went to school with might come in some day. Enticing people is fun, shocking them is better.
After I broke up with the Amazon I had a long, adventurous relationship with a punk rocker, we made an interesting couple. With all of her piercings, dark blue hair and shocking wardrobe, she was flamboyant, exhibitionistic, and boldly fascinating without being cheap or gaudy. I, on the other hand, dressed modestly; classy without being prudish and alluring without being slutty – a preppie. Short skirts had finally made a come back and I was made to wear them. We were polar opposites: Angel and The Monster. Our friends used to tell each of us, “Why do you hang around someone like her?” They couldn’t have respected our answer.
We used to delve into public sex just to shock people. We called it Cat and Mouse. She always played the wild, aggressive seducer while I played the demure, sweet victim. We dressed the parts, too. She wore only torn black stockings and a ripped black dress shirt with a thick black stripe painted diagonally across her eyes. I wore a tiny gray pleated skirt, a tight low-neck sweater, a big bow in my hair, and a shear mesh sash across my eyes. We both looked like a couple of street hookers. She would slowly stock me as we made our way through nightclubs, liquor stores, and adult arcades in the red-light part of town, teasing and harassing everyone we came across. When she caught me she would pin me to a wall and ravage me, pull my clothes aside and grope me or force me to the ground by my hair and shove her cunt in my face. We got some fool to yell “Rape” one time. It would always end up in some real heavy love making, often before we could make it home.
She had a friend who staged “Performance Art” back in its infancy and knew about our game. He hired us to present a work he called “Yin and Yang” that we would perform at various wine and brie gatherings. She would enter from one side wearing black buccaneer boots, a black corset, long black gloves, and carrying a black cat-o-nine-tails. I would enter from the opposite side in a white merry widow, white stockings, white lace gloves, a wedding veil, and carrying a bouquet of white roses. We each wore color-coordinated masks or I doubt if I could have done it. By a carefully choreographed script we would circle each other then she would lunge at me in a lip-lock while I feigned fear. After I slowly succumbed to her attentions we would collapse into soissant-neuf on the floor amidst drizzling applause. We would suck on each other’s gigs for up to an hour while the art crowd partied casually above us, occasionally passing comment on the “symbolic dichotomy of our rapture”. The first time we got so hot they had to literally pull us apart.
We would do the same act at one of her punk clubs only the crowds were nowhere near as politely detached. Guys would feel us up at will; one time two audience members squatted over us and beat off. I distinctly remember some guy’s cum dribbling on my hip and hearing our artist friend shouting, “Yes! Perfect! PERFECT!” Weird. After college she and I went our separate ways and I spent the next two years jumping from bed to bed making absolutely sure I had exorcized all of my wild urges.
It was then I met the love of my life, Danielle (Danny), another lipstick lesbian three years my senior and still my partner to this day. I found her through an ad in the personals column, an “attractive, dark, DWF looking to rekindle her Sapphic past”. Our personalities and styles suited each other perfectly and the first time we kissed - it was love.
When we met she was mired in a deep depression over her husband running off with his receptionist and I made it my mission to resurrect her. We restyled her hair, exercised twenty-five pounds off of her, and got her a new wardrobe. By the time we were finished she was so hot her ex begged her to take him back. The jerk wanted to get in between us for a three-way. She shot him down in flames, absolute vindication. The success really went to her head and she became almost obsessed with exclaiming our affair at every opportunity. She had an intense desire to show off to the world the beauty of our bodies and the intensity of our lovemaking.
I don’t know how but she found a swingers club that would hire couples to put on a live sex show before their festivities began. They would meet at the clubhouse of an apartment complex and we would make love in front of them on a mattress on the floor. They watched us and paired up for their own performances as we “worked”. The pay was nice and I have to admit we put on a really good show. Our bodies were both perfect in those days and the passion of our deep love for each other revealed itself in our sex. We were repeat performers; they would all get very worked up just watching us. One week they contacted Danny with an offer for double the money if she would perform with a dog. They were intent on the idea and had been looking all over for an attractive participant.
She leapt at the idea. She had never done it before and I tried very hard to explain to her what she was in for but she was so caught up in the beauty of her new body and the power she wielded over an audience that her mind was set. As the week passed and the night approached I could tell she was starting to get cold feet. I drove her to the clubhouse that night and waited with her in the kitchen for the guy with the dog to arrive and all the members to gather. She had stripped down and put on a robe but her third scotch and soda hadn’t made her any braver. A positively greasy looking guy and his rolly-polly girlfriend finally showed up with what looked like a Black Lab/Great Dane mix named Jake and Danny finally chickened out.
I had gotten myself worked up for this possibility and was ready to sex it up with Danny myself but the club people insisted they wanted the dog show. Well, I had done it before and we really needed the money so I consented to go on for Danny. I got undressed with the greasy guy leering at me all the time while he and his lady took off Jake’s collar and started putting socks on the front and hind legs. I knew why the socks went on the front paws but I had no idea why they were putting socks on his hind legs. The girl asked me if I had done this before and I said I had. She asked me if I was going to take his knot and when I said yes, they just looked at each other and smirked. Greasy Lee just kept winking at me and saying, “He’s gonna like you jiss fine.” I decided it was time to get acquainted with my co-star and knelt down to pet him. He had suddenly realized what he was there for and licked me all over as he tried to jump up on me and start humping any part of me available. Danny was grateful for me to take her place but there was really no reason for it as I was getting very turned on by the idea of a good fucking. It became time for the show and I just kissed Danny tenderly, smiled at her, and told her, “Watch this.”
I felt no apprehension about covering my identity, they had all seen me nude before as I had seen them all nude. They had all watched me having sex before as I had watched them all having sex. I entered before Jake and slowly strolled around the room with a broad smile and my hands on my hips, stopping and posing before couples and groups to let them examine my charms before I walked to the dais and knelt; a sacrifice presented for their enjoyment.
They let the dog in from the kitchen and he darted into the room in a highly agitated state, prancing among the crowd, who were by that time in various stages of undress, and looking for his target. He found me and came to me in a supplicate manner, licked me briefly in the face, and then dove down to check out where he planned on planting his fuck-root. He lapped at my pouting labia and I rotated over on to my hip, grabbed my heel, and pushed my leg high into the air in a broad spread. He pounced on my crotch and dug his tongue hungrily into my open, unprotected gash. A dog licking is so good.
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