[https://youtu.be/bsUWK-fixiA](https://youtu.be/bsUWK-fixiA)
https://samanthajwright.com/2022/12/01/mine-part-1/
https://samanthajwright.com/2022/12/03/mine-part-2/
**GEMMA**
Who ever would have thought I’d end up doing something like this? It’s not that I think it’s beneath me. No. It’s just that it’s so weird. I mean what do the men get out of this that they couldn’t get from porn? I know there’s some very strange and very very base stuff available at just a few clicks of the keyboard if you go looking, which I did, for research purposes only, just the other day. Having scared myself rapidly, I soon closed the window and went back to my usual thing of watching funny owl videos and drinking camomile tea. I’m not cut out for this.
That night, once I’d gotten over my shock, I took out my breast pump and vibrator and tried to relax into an orgasm within the privacy of my own comfy bed. My thoughts kept returning though to what might be expected. I just found it hard to imagine myself doing it. I’m really not that sort of girl.
The day has arrived. Instead of focusing too much on the short clip I’d seen of a stripper getting covered in audience members’ liquid excitement and then having the hands of complete strangers paw over her body under the pretense of placing fifty dollar notes in her panties, I think primarily about the cash instead. The stress it is going to take off me will be worth it. It will only be fractional but that might make all the difference between me cracking up completely or staying sane for just one more month so I can care for Aran. I have to get him clean.
Life isn’t about private tuition now or long weekends in the Hamptons sipping champers. My very first professional performance on stage in Berlin has become a fuzzy memory seen as if in a dream. I’ve made it so; which is probably for the best. There is no sense in torturing myself. Bills and debts have to be paid for both our sakes. The wolves must be kept from our door by any means necessary. And by wolves I mean my brother Aran’s dealers. I hate them. I HATE them! Those…those evil evil people! Are they people?
So yes, I must try. I must remember the things I have read that men are supposed to like; because if I don’t, Farrell and his men have promised we will both wind up on an autopsy table as nothing more than a couple of cool puzzles for the coroner to document and piece back together.
So stay sane Gemma!
‘Remember not to put too much makeup on hun,’ says Bella. I’m in the dressing room applying a thin veil of powder to my face with a large brush. A few of the other girls turn their heads.
‘Why does she get to do minimalistic and we have to lay it on with a trowel?’ one of them complains.
Bella looks at her mockingly chewing what I assume to be gum with unnecessary ferocity.
‘Because you’re fucking ugly, that’s why and she isn’t.’
Shocked, I half expect an eruption of tears or a tantrum to ensue but no. All the girl does is grumble more, only this time unintelligibly under her breath. Bellas attention returns to me, her hands resting heavy on my shoulders.
‘Your appeal is your fertility – you do get that right? I mean those leaky mummy breasts specifically. I’ve got to make sure we are clear here. That you know what’s expected. I’m going to just say it to you straight. So listen up. Most of the men you see in these kinda places never progressed much beyond puberty. Just like that Freud guy said, they’re dirty little primitive bastards that think impure things about mummy and get off on it. So yeah, they’re still little boys at heart but with cold hard cash in their pockets to spend and likely a hard something else that probably only got that way through little blue pills and dope. So your job is to maintain their sick little delusions; which means nothing too garish eh? We’ve got to keep just a little bit of innocence about you, be a tiny bit prim, work more on keeping that intrigue and being bashful and make sure to work those milkers to good effect. Can you do that for me?’
I nod and try to ignore the little bit of bile that just came up.
‘And they won’t be able to touch me will they, like we discussed?’
‘Definitely not. We will have at least two of our staff close to hand watching. You’re gonna be fine doll. Now get a move on.’
I do as I’m told ignoring the stares from the other girls and deflecting politely the two tentative enquiries about my engorged breasts. When I’m done, I’m aware that I look attractive. The reflection in the mirror smiles back at me shyly, unused to showing off so much flesh but not entirely disliking the thought of revealing myself teasingly. Who knows? I could actually enjoy at least some part of this if I really really try.
And I do. It takes a while to get into it but when my eyes keep coming back to the shadowy figure sitting over in the corner I definitely feel sparks begin to flare inside. I always was a sucker for mystery. There’s very little of him to be seen but I know he’s seeing plenty of me. I can feel his eyes on me as surely as if they were a scalding salivating tongue. As I intentionally part my legs and gyrate, forefinger sliding along my satin covered groove, I realise I’m wet there too and the knowledge of this makes my nipples begin to throb. Arousal barrels through my sizzling veins, plumpness becoming engorged and full and suddenly my milk begins to flow. I gasp a little and deep inside me my womb contracts in an oh so delicious syrupy answer. All I can think is, I want a mouth on me, relieving me, soaking up my illicit creamy leakage like I’m a human ice-cream. I’d like it to be his. This thought makes my situation worse. More milk is released and I valiantly remove my top, casting it to one side where it lands in the dark. He leans forward and I know he’s seen. Our eyes lock and neutron reactions occur.
Fuck!
This man is Greek god standard gorgeous and I’m amazed to note he looks so turned on it would not be a huge surprise to see him start actually panting. I am thrilled. Who knew it was going to be like this? I certainly did not. Taking my slippery hot breasts in both hands I massage slow and sensually, remembering to appear coy, squeezing, knowing that my audience will be imagining it’s them manhandling my wares. I take the dampest of my hands and slowly drag my tongue along the palm tasting myself brazenly for all to see. I cannot lie and I won’t because I’m pure…I taste really really good.
Knowing that the music is about to end, I turn and lower my head towards the floor, hair cascading, exposing virtually everything except my two untouchable very needy hot little holes. Intrigue Bella had said – provoke intrigue. I think I’ve successfully fulfilled my directive.
A few grunts and groans from the men openly pleasuring themselves on the front row reassure me of this. Although largely ignorant, it’s a job well done. However the thing that pleases me most, is the look of sheer want and need on the face of my handsome admirer sitting so brimming with lust over in the corner. He sips his beer, licking his soft yet full looking lips and I realise as the music ends that it was dancing for him and him alone that’s made more than my 32 DD’s leak so copiously all along. My pussy is in absolute meltdown as well. Dripping for him, she’s grabbing. I cannot deny the state I’m in.
I wonder if he knows?
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/zbj0n3/mine_part_2_stripper_club_lactation_milf_nsfw