Strip Tease

by Circe
circe@grlmail.com

 

Oh man, I think I heard her taxi pull up. This is great. My clock says its about 2am, so that means one thing - she's been a busy working girl.

I've set up my curtains just right so that not a chink of light shows through, and I'm pretty sure she can't see me. Not that she'd care - I mean, she strips for a living, so what does it matter if her neighbour gets a free show, right?

There goes her light. Oh man, she's gorgeous. I could just watch her parade around her apartment all day. Just don't close your blinds! Thank god. She just looked straight at me, but didn't let on or anything. I guess I'm just not important to her.

She's so hot. That tight vest bursting with her ripe tits, nice firm plump ass you just wanna sink your teeth into. Blond hair you just wanna stroke and legs that go all the way up. Man, I'd give her one. I'd just love to be that guy she sees. Lucky bastard. Wonder if he knows she's a stripper?

Hard day, huh babe? A big sigh for such a gorgeous girl. What you looking at? Just scanning the city? You just look lost, you know. I could come over there and show you want you need. I got it right here in my hand baby. Right here.

Off to make something to eat? I love your kitchen, cause I can see right into it and still watch you. And your bedroom as well. Did you set up those wardrobe doors so that they reflected everything in your room just for me? I'm so glad you did babe, cos I never miss a trick. Just don't close those blinds! How can I get you to get rid of that frosted glass you got in your bathroom? I recon watching you take a shower would be just as good as watching you get naked. Maybe I should call you up tonight again and suggest it.

Come on! Enough with the cup of coffee! Yeah, take those boots of babe and curl up on the couch. Bend over. That's it. God your ass is so hot! Tight and curvy and cute. I'll bet you've got a thong on, cos I can't see your underwear lines pressed up on your ass cheeks, but there's some pink lace riding up over the top of your skirt. I'm so glad I bought this camera; the zoom is awesome! I could zoom right up your ass.

Just tie your hair back baby while you massage those feet. Nice paint job too. You're so girly its not true - blonde and pink and soft and hot. There aren't enough girls like you in the world. Certainly not enough girls that live straight across from me and leave their blinds open! All I need baby is a camera or two in there. One in your bathroom would be so good. I could watch you do all those girly things you do in private. Is that where you play with yourself? I bet it is. I mean, you're a stripper, so that's one step from a whore and a slut. Bet you fist yourself to sleep every night when those curtains close and you press your tits up against the glass. Bet you think of me while you're doing it too. I know you want to be watched. I mean, you're a stripper.

Finished your coffee huh? Wash out that mug. Good girl. Oh man, you're going to your bedroom! On goes the light. I love how you close your door, like your safe. I'm watching baby. I'm always watching. Thank God you have that sink in your room, or I'd miss you taking off your make-up. You do it so sensually, so slowly, like you don't want to. It's always perfect too. Your lips just made for sucking me, big and red and wet. Oh man. Even with the lipstick off they're gorgeous. I can just feel them. Your man is one lucky son of a bitch. The glitter on your chest makes you sparkle. It's like you're an angel.

All done. So now you look at yourself. Take a long look baby. I know I am. I'd look at myself all day long if I was as gorgeous as you. Well, look and touch. You sleep though. Must be tiring taking your clothes off all night for sweaty, fat businessmen who don't appreciate you. How many dollar bills you get in your thong tonight? Does the sweat make Abraham Lincoln transfer onto you ass in a black sploge of ink? I wish my zoom lens was that good! I'd zoom right in watching you watching yourself. You're so vain. Long, lingering glances at your body with a smile on those perfect, pouty lips of yours before you begin the show.

Watching you reach up and untie your hair, mussing it up with your hands as it cascades over your shoulders, nestling in your cleavage. Running you hands down your head and around your neck, over your front and around those perfect round tits of yours. You gyrate slowly as you cup them, squeezing them through the fabric of your vest as your hips move in and out, your eyes never leaving the mirror. Is there music playing? Or are you dancing to the rhythms in your head? Taking your hands down over your flat stomach and around your hips, almost caressing as your hands move between your thighs. God I wish I were your fingertips so I could feel what you're feeling right now.

Although, I can see you when you pull that vest over your head and throw it to one side. I can see your tits proud in that pink bra your wearing. If I zoom in enough I think I can almost see your nipples pushing through. Your bra is wet around the edges as beads of sweat trickle down between your tits. Your so hot. If I make my hands lighter, it could almost be you stroking me, and me stroking you. You bend over to get a better look at those tits of yours, nestling in the constraints of your bra - pushed up and together and making me hard. If I zoom out enough I can see your tits in the mirror and your ass, stuck up in the air with that little skirt tight over your buns, riding up so I can see a blank band of your pantyhose circling your thighs. Oh my God.

Not that I'm complaining, but I've often wondered why you put on this little show at night. All I can think of is that you do it so often for other people, you wanna do it for yourself. Like a dress rehearsal. You seem to enjoy it though. Narcissistic bitch. Go on, wiggle out of that little skirt. Oh, ok, that's better. Fondle your ass first as you tease that tiny zip down. Slowly. Oh yeah, that's great. I love how you bend over while you wiggle it down your ass and let it drop to your feet. I get a much better view of you that way! A pink thong as well, I think. I can almost make it out through your pantyhose, although I'm looking at your ass more. Round and tight it makes me wanna squeeze it. Those hose must make you awfully warm though, when you're performing. I suppose that's why you wore stockings that time I went to see you. You had no idea it was me when I slipped that fifty dollar note down your g-string as you gave me that little smile. No idea that I'd been having my own private show for months before I found out where you worked. Fifty dollars was cheap for the thrills I've been getting baby.

So what's it to be? Check yourself out in the mirror some more, or take of those pantyhose? I can see you think about it as your eyes give yourself a once over. Your fingers drawing little spirals on your perfect tummy, tweaking that oh-so-cute belly button ring. Should I call you now? Or should I wait? At least the curtains are still open, so I can see you. I'll wait.

You've decided. You slide your hands down to your pantyhose and pull them down over your ass with a little wiggle that ripples up over your whole body, sliding them down those tanned, smooth legs of yours. Your legs are so beautiful - I'd love to tell you that. You always wear pantyhose to cover them up, even when its hot outside. There's not a blemish on them, not a bit of cellulite. Damn! I guess you have to sit down to pull them off your feet, but it makes it harder to see! All I can see in the mirror is your face, looking down. You're so pretty, especially when you frown like that and those little wrinkles appear on your forehead. I could watch you for days.

Alright, time to check yourself out again. Its great watching you turn this way and that as you watch yourself in the mirror, watching your hands caressing your body, just standing there in your bra and thong. Take your bra off so I can get a good view of those luscious tits of yours. Oh God your going to! You slide one strap off, then the other before reaching behind you and unclasping yourself. I love this game. Your bra just stays in the same place. Your tits don't move. I watch as you slowly slide the straps off your arms and peel your bra away from your body. God I love your tits. I think you've had them done, cos they don't move that much. They're still high and round and proud and yes, perky with your nipples hard and red. I love this bit, when you massage them, fondling your own tits. Does your bra pinch that much, because I don't see any redness. Or do you do it because it feels so good? It must feel good because you close your eyes and open that mouth just a little. Are you moaning? Are you wet? It feels good at this end baby, let me tell you. I know you're a 36D. I know because I have one of your bras right here, did you know that? I stole it at the Laundromat before you washed it, when you weren't looking. It smells of you - like a girl. Just the thought of you nestling those tits into it makes me almost cum. I have a pair of your panties too, baby. Not a matching set though, sadly, but I know you've worn them. I think you must have washed them though, because there's no stains, if you know what I mean. Does it feel good playing with those tits? I wish I could. I wish I could kill that scrawny little boyfriend of yours and show you how a real man could treat you. You could do your show for me and then I'd . . .

Oh yeah. You're so hot. I can't believe you slid your hand down into your thong! I just wanna see! Oh I have to call you. Its been a week since the last time. I have to!

I dial your number, watching you. The phone rings and I see you stop, cursing and pulling your hand out of your thong. You walk so sexily when you're almost naked. Your ass wiggles and your tits bounce up and down in such a way it makes me so horny. You stop in your living room, facing my window. What a perfect view that is. You brush your hair back with your hand (are your fingertips wet?) and pick up the phone.

"Hello?" You ask. Your voice is so valley girl. I watch your lips as you speak.

"Hello," I reply, trying not to sound as hot and bothered as I am.

"Who is this? Do you know what time it is?" You put your hand on your hip, your fingers resting on the lace of your thong. I want to tell you to take it off, but I can't. That would ruin everything. I can't speak, but I want to be close to you. I want to see you naked before you close those curtains. I want you. All I can do is breathe.

"Hello?" You ask again. You don't sound bothered. A young, attractive woman half naked in her apartment with the blinds open and a sicko on the phone and you sound pleasant. God I want you.

"If you just want to breathe at me I'm hanging up." You sound so confident. I could break you.

"Look, I've had a hard day at work, I'm tired and I just want to get out of this outfit, so I'm gonna go if that's okay?" I watch your hand start to slowly stroke your hip, snapping your thong against your ass with your thumb. I can hear it softly down the phone. I need to talk longer.

"I, erm, saw you dance," I say. I must sound out of breath. She must be able to hear me use my hand.

"How did you get this number?" She asks, her mouth moving a split second later because of the delay. She still doesn't sound angry. I wish she'd start playing with herself again, so I could hear. I don't answer.

"Okay, weirdo. Listen. You can jerk off to me all you like at the club, but no phone sex. Don't call me again. You understand?" She pretends she's all bossy, but I know she's not. She's so soft and girly.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," I say, my eyes fixed on her tits, the telephone wire dangling suggestively between them.

"Hey, it's alright. Fan's are good. But I just dance. You get me?" She's smiling.

"I've got you," I say and then let out a moan as I cum. Then phone in my ear lets out a long, low note and as I look up, she's hung up the phone. She doesn't look angry at all. Maybe she didn't hear me. Damn! I want her to hear me so that she'll let me hear her. Then she can feel me. Oh God!

Damn! She's coming over to the window. She's gonna lower the blinds. I take a long look at those perfect tits and that lacy thong. I can almost see her public hair in a line through the fabric but it might be my imagination. One day.

The light goes out through the cracks in the blind in the living room, and the next thing she's in her bedroom, tits bouncing. Maybe she'll forget about the blind. I just want to see her take off that thong. I want to see her pussy. But no, before I know it she's over at the window and bringing down the curtain on the show. God she's gorgeous.

Sometimes I watch in case she opens them again, but she never does. Her light stays on for hours - God knows what she's doing, although I'd love to watch!

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I pull down the blinds. I know that guy across the road likes to watch me sometimes, so I don't want to take any chances. I wonder if that was him on the phone? I suppose that's sweet, in a sick, Alfred Hitchcock soft of way.

God I'm hot. I love looking at myself in the mirror. Watching me stroking myself. I wish I could feel it though. I guess you can't have everything.

I slide my thong down my legs, watching my boobs sway slightly as I do so. It's still weird looking down and seeing these huge breasts.

I straighten up and cup one of my boobs with a slim hand. I saw one of the other girls today bitching about artificial boobs and how she couldn't afford them. I should tell her my secret.

I look down over myself in the mirror. Between my legs is my one flaw - a perfectly smooth, hairless, and genitalia-less problem. "I suppose that's why I dance under the name of Barbie," I say out loud and laugh. If I could get that right I could make a whole lot more money. Still, I earn more than enough as it is. It's better than flipping burgers.

I sigh. I suppose I should get out of this outfit and get to sleep. I have an early class in the morning, I remind myself. I reach up and run my hands through my hair, looking for the clasp. It comes off easily enough, and takes my full head of blonde hair with it. Bald, but still hot!

The mirror doors come apart to reveal my walk-in dressing room. I set the wig on an empty styrophome head and give it a quick brush. It's still pretty good.

I click on the table lamp on my dresser, and look at myself. "Ok, bye bye Barbie," I say, still using my much-practised valley-girl voice.

I reach behind my head and feel for the slit, priding it apart with my fingernails until I hear that sucking noise. The face in the mirror crumples in front of me as I pull it off and arrange my head on the dummy next to me, grabbing a towel and rubbing it through my hair and over my sweat-covered face. That's the worst bit about wearing latex, the feeling afterwards.

I look at the face in the mirror, my face. I'm not bad looking I suppose, but I like looking like a girl more. I smile, but it turns into a yawn. I have to get out of this before I can sleep, or I'll be dehydrated by morning, I remind myself. I reach into my mouth and pull out my smile - a perfect row of white, straight teeth; caps - and plop them into a glass.

I stand up, reaching between my legs for the seam that holds my bodysuit together. It pops open easily enough, freeing my slightly-hard manhood. I bet this would give the girls a shock! I know it would shock the boys too - especially the manager, since I've had his in my mouth enough times. Perhaps he wouldn't mind, since its my boobs he seems to like more. I must say I like them too. I really want to get my own this size when I graduate. Then I'll be able to feel his hands on me.

I loosen off the make-up that covers up the seam around my thighs, and the same for the seams that run under my underarms and chin. "Well, here goes," I say, before laughing at myself for still using the valley girl voice. I cough a few times before pulling hard on my belly button ring, and feeling my silicon boobs and ass slide down the inside of the suit, sending weird bumps over my body until they fall out at the bottom. The once-tight skin now hangs loosely, loose enough for me to squeeze my arms through the holes and pull the over my head, leaving my skinny torso covered in sweat and my chest heaving.

I towel off, and turn the suit inside out, so it can breathe a bit, and put the silicone breast forms and ass pads on the table.

As I turn out the light and close the wardrobe, I can't help but chuckle looking at the pile of clothes on the bedroom floor.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Circe. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.