In the Pink
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2023 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Sex Story: Pia tries her hand at stripping. Illustrated.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual Fiction Illustrated .
As a classy stripper she was workin’
While the male customers were jerkin’
Off their erect cocks.
You can bet your socks,
They wanted to pull off her pink merkin.
Pia did okay at The Blue Coyote Café, but her best girlfriend convinced her she could do better at Pinkie’s. “Nothing wrong with stripping these days,” the girlfriend said, and you can take home three times what you get here, mostly tax free.”
Pia decided to give it a go. The manager, Mr. Ross, said he’d give her a try. “Pick out a costume from the wardrobe, you’re on at eight.”
Nothing in the wardrobe had the slightest appeal. Pia decided to make do. She came on stage wearing only her pink socklets and the strategically placed flower her boyfriend had given her for luck.
To the cheers and whistles of the sixteen or so men in attendance, Pia did her dance, baring her breasts at just the right moment while at the same time snatching the flower from her pubis.
She probably could have stopped there, but the crowd chanted for more.
While kneeling on the stage, her back to the audience, most of whom were now in the front row, Pia stuffed the flower between the pink petals of her puss.
A moment later she lay back and spread her legs wide, showing the men, most of whom were now standing right at the stage, that the flower was fully ensconsed.
She writhed a bit and moaned, mimicking a climax, then kipped to her feet, snatched the soggy bloom from her cunt, and flung it towards her admirers.
While the men grappled for the souvenir, Pia hastened offstage.
“That was terrific,” Manager Ross told her in the dressing room. “One thing, though. The guys generally prefer a shaved puss.”
“How am I suppose to attach the flower?” Pia asked.
“Clit ring?” Ross suggested.
“No rings, no tats,” Pia said. “It’s non-negotiable. Also I’ve run out of flowers.”
“Okay, then, how about you use the socks for the second show?”
“No way. My grandmother knit me these socks,” said Pia. And that was the end of Pia’s career as a stripper at Pinkie’s.
Poem by Ashley
Illustrations by Mat
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