1. Swigglewicks


    Date: 10/5/2017, Categories: Exhibitionism, Author: adagio_sabadicus, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    girl working her way through college. Her young dorsal fins bound together by braces of a bra, she wore a tiny talisman of a phallus between her cleavage. Oh, the tease. She couldn't have been long from the nest, not past eighteen Springs. Leaning over me she said, "Mr. Sabadicus, the show is about to begin." That's when I got the night's first stiffens, as the clock on the wall was tick-tockin' near ten. My cock throbbing with the raw beat, hammered out by percussion and timpani, my thoughts ventured beyond mere voyeurism. I sought carnal delights and treats without mincing my bent dark ebony. For me, being the illicit voyeur came in many shades, from silent watcher to genial nods and howdy-dos. Never more, unless you count masturbation and near strangulation of my prick, brought on by self-binding with cord and duct tape. In accordance with Bi-sexual Dreams 101. I'd never taken that step towards touching a genuine whore, even if I'd longed to. I’m not sure why. I knew I had nothing to fear if I could provide the quid. There would be no humiliating rejection, no embarrassing pre-fuck small talk. I guess self-confidence took time for me, even in the company of exhibitionists who rehearsed their moves, as I knew these whores did. Like a bobbin, shedding threads. But I wasn't there to capture just any girl. I didn't want to pick from a line-up or go for pot-luck. My lady was already chosen and only she would do. I was there for her, my own sweet temptress, my eyes seeing ...
    only her form, never seeking another. An announcement, from the stage, sent anticipatory shivers racing through my very sinuses. "Now for your personal entertainment, Swigglewicks presents Adda Corine." An ecdysiast (exotic dancer) covered in tattoos, wearing nothing but her inked-on climbing vines, appeared. In animation the ivy grew. Brought on by absinthe, the green fairy (la fée verte) and lusty illusions as in voyeurism, only I knew. At times, the drink played the collywobbles with me, but tonight being her first show, I was need of dropping a load. She, clad in stockings, fuck-me Basque and high heel struts, ensnared me the second the spot-light found her, bathing her with it’s smoky beam. In that moment, I became her mortal slave, her loyal servant. My eyes glued to her gyrations, I was the moth with transparent wings circling the flame of her carnal fires. She, the mantis eying her snare, reeled me in. I watched her wiggle and writhe, her breasts perfect orbs swashing about her upper torso. Fitted with coiled spring nipple extenders and pierced with diamond studs. The tiny jewels caught the obedient light, stirring the minds of the moths as she moved, enticing her audience. I gawked, mouth agape thinking, "Sweet mammary, needing to be kissed." Her tits, natural with a swagger, built for hugging and nursing my winter time melancholia. Her ample derrière bumping and grinding, entertained the wigwags sitting on their hard chairs. They were not accustomed to this type of ...
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