Dez at the Silver Pole E-Book

Neale Sourna

• Herausgeber: PIE: Perception Is Everything
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 50

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Dez is a willful, stubborn hottie, the bisexual top stripper and erotic dancer [exotic dancer] at Max’s club; independent to the bone, she won’t be controlled.
But, enter Mr. Dark, a powerful, dangerous, wealthy player, a corporate gangsta with an eye only for sexy Ms. Dez.
He’s certain he can teach this free girl a few things.
In lust and love, what is “control,” what is “danger,” when two headstrong people are in conflict over their mutual desires, at the foot of a stripper’s silver pole.

Leseprobe

Neale Sourna

Dez at the Silver Pole

First published by PIE: Perception Is Everything 2020

Copyright © 2020 by Neale Sourna

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

ISBN: 978-1-938903-42-7

This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com

Story also available in

Libidinous 1 / 1A

by Neale Sourna

Cover Photos Licensed from iStockPhoto.com

Library of Congress story registration 2002

Original Story Copyright 2000

slight revision 2020

“Doing for the mind, what the body shouldn’t.”SM

“Thoughtful Entertainment You Can FEEL.”SM

Contents

Dez at the Silver Pole

BATHROOM FUN WITH GINGER

AGE APPROPRIATE?

DEZ’S FIRST SHOW - BACKSTAGE

ENTER MR. DARK

DEZ THE HEADLINER

DARK DREAMS

PRIVATE DANCER

PREMIUM PRIVATE SHOW

TOUCHING

PENALTY FEE?

SALOME

SHARP EDGE OF CONTROL

ELBOW TO THE NECK

SADDLE UP, GIRL.

RIDE ’EM, COWGIRL!

HIS COCK’S NEW HOME

INVITATION

SEXY EXIT

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Dez at the Silver Pole

“What are you?”

People ask me that ALL the fucking time, while squinting at my “lovely skin … incredible brown color” or insert stupid shit here, like they don’t know what species I am, or what planet I came from.

My planet: “None of your damn business.”

My species: “Are you fucking for real?”

The more they know the more they want to control the rare species alien and kill it, or have crazy sex with it. Or both. I’ve seen the movies.

Anyway, I’ve known Ginger for only a few months, just since I barely turned legal, which equals almost the complete time I’ve spent working the silver pole at Max’s hard core place downtown in the rough, old warehouse district on the river.

Eventually, I moved in with G, after my ancient, pervy landlord didn’t completely grasp the concept that he owned his broken down old ratty place; not me.

Waking up, at like four in the a.m., with this old geezer standing over me, his liver-spotted, arthritic hand whacking his mushy, pathetic peter. It suddenly crowned greenish yellow “cream,” that was spurting onto my bush, my tits, and lips, before I could stop him. That was totally enough!

Ptah! Yack. Assault much? GROSS!

Funny-ish, almost. He reminded me of a few contemptuous dates I’ve had; unable to control his wad long enough to reach me deep inside, and get me off.

Not that Mr. Senile Old Geezer was even close to getting me off; because I don’t like men who don’t come at me directly or accept my choice; and mostly because geezer dude was illegally using his master key to sneak in and masturbate his fucking disgusting all over me . . . !

G Fucking Christ and, honky, please; as my foster group mom used to say, before they sent me back to my mom. This is what being a fucking grownup’s all about?! Fucking EW!

I took Ginger up on her standing invitation, that very same early A.M.; with my eyes wide open. I know what she is, and how she feels about me. Plus, well, at least she doesn’t have some nasty infection AND criminal intent for home and privacy invasion.

She was so good to me. I could finally sleep in peace. So, a week or two after I moved in with her, I was industriously washing my parts that’d touched the pole. There are certain cherished parts of me that never touch that thing, because some of the girls rub their prized shit on anyone, and any damn thing. And, so, I was bathing…

BATHROOM FUN WITH GINGER

Ginger came in her bathroom and mumbled something about nothing that happened to be, supposedly, in the shower with me.

“G, I have no clue, so just get your naked ass in here with me, and take it.”

I swear I heard her gulp before she, finally, stepped in and then, finally, spoke up.

“Dez, you got sucha beautiful, ‘exotic’ face, and ‘supple, killer bod’.” Yeah, G’s a total lez.

G’s generic white girl with Irish hair, top and bottom; natural brilliant red.

I’m a mixed bit, that looks like—so I’m told, but I don’t see it—actress Jessica Alba, when she was doing the “Dark Angel” TV show; dark hair, creamy tan skin, chubby cheeks, and slim-hipped, but still with bustin’ curves. Unfortunately, I’ve got a face like a damn fourteen year old’s.

I am tired of gettin’ carded!

But my “sexy child” features really bring in the cash; all that naughty, precocious innocence fetish shit.

You naughty, dirty ole daddy and gramps types. Tsk-tsk-tsk.

Oh, back to G for Ginger and me showering together.

I think a lot of my priceless bod and don’t spread myself around; not that I’m saving it all or nothing, it’s just why I’ve only “had” a handful of cocks—to get the hang of guy-fucking. Don’t know about you, but I really hate looking totally stupid, and being out of control, like some foolish little freak.

I am no freakazoid freaktard; I remain in control and I make you scream.

So, I’d used a few guys I’d completely pimped; leavin’ ’em with their doggy tongues hanging out all limp and drippy. But I never fucked any of ’em so many times that they’d really think I seriously belonged to them. Okay, a couple of ’em did anyway. Men. Boys, too.

Belonging to a man, fallin’ all over yourself for one. No way I go there; but guys always think they’re in control of girls. Please.

Like I said, I can make a man cry AND whimper AND howl . . . .