*A troubled teacher is surprised to encounter his former student in a strip club*
What was I doing?
Ashamed to look the barman in the eye, I mumbled for a straight Talisker. Peaty, dry and smoky with a bitter hit on the lips, it always seemed to suit nights like this.
‘Thanks,’ I murmured, taking my whisky without raising my eyes from the bar. I lifted the glass to my mouth and found my thoughts wandering, as they always did.
I was married, happy, loved; I had everything, I didn’t need this. And yet I was still young, thirty-seven, and in the best shape of my life, years of running chiseling my body like coastal winds erode a cliff. I still craved the excitement of the new and the forbidden. My wife was everything; but everything wasn’t enough. In this same tired way, my better angels wrestled with my baser instincts; they always lost.
So here I was, again, sitting alone in a backstreet lap dancing bar, in a city just far enough away to limit the chances of my being recognised. I had planned every detail, even down to the thin, smart trousers, with no underwear for extra feel. Fuck me, I was pathetic.
‘Heyyyy,’ came the inevitable young, cooing voice and tap on the shoulder. For all my self-disgust, I couldn’t stop my instinctive excitement; my stomach dropped a note and I felt a stirring in my groin as I turned to my girl for the evening.
‘Aoife!’ I exclaimed.
She reeled in surprise. ‘Mr -!’
‘Neil,’ I interrupted, sharply. ‘Please,’ I corrected myself and looked nervously at my shoes, ‘call me Neil.’
‘Neil.’ She sucked on my name like a gobstopper, testing its strange feel in her mouth before spitting it back out. ‘Neil…’ She giggled.
‘I don’t…’ I began my excuses, not really knowing where they would lead.
‘Don’t,’ she interrupted. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to, you know, explain.’
Aoife had been my student, two or three years ago now, in my advanced history class. She must have been twenty, perhaps twenty-one. She explained that she was in the final year of a law degree and had ‘got into this as a fun way to earn a bit of money’, but I’d heard that so many times before I never thought to believe it anymore. She leaned forward to catch my eye.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you’ve barely looked at me.’
‘I’m just…’
‘Don’t!’ she insisted, placing a hand on my knee and looking directly into my eyes. ‘It’s okay to be here. I’m here too, aren’t I?’ She smiled, reassuringly as much as anything else.
I smiled back and looked tentatively into her face. Other than a simple brush of mascara, a smudge of black eyeliner and a smear of dusky pink lipstick, she was without makeup. Aoife had always been stunning, one of a handful of students who had fueled my fantasies and many illicit wanks that always made me feel terrible afterwards, but which I just couldn’t resist. Irish by background, her skin was pale and unblemished, like Greek marble, her long, straight hair the deep brown colour of Guinness just before it settles. Her eyes were a grayish, pastel green, more jades than emeralds, shimmering faintly among the dusting of freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her mouth was lively and expressive, twitching and curling in conversation.
My eyes surveyed her body as she spoke about her degree. She was wearing a simple, strappy black dress which clung tightly to the contours of her body. She was thin and petite, but adulthood had sculpted her tight body into breathtaking curves: at her small, pert chest and her full, womanly hips.
‘So,’ she interrupted my wandering thoughts and eyes, ‘do you want a dance?’
‘Er… sure,’ I replied, now a little freer of my embarrassment and inhibitions.
She led me by the hand past security and through a cordoned passageway to a private area. I paid a heavy-set, bald guy for a ten-minute dance and followed her into a small, curtained booth, containing only a chair, a small table and a stereo.
I placed my drink on the table and sat dutifully on my hands while Aoife drew back the curtain and pressed ‘play’ on the stereo, starting up a side of bassy R&B. ‘You’ve done this before,’ she teased, a smile sneaking out of the corners of her mouth.
She began swaying confidently to the pulsing rhythm, slipping herself from her black dress, strap by strap. I was conscious that she might have done this hundreds of times, for hundreds of men, that this was just a job for her, but I was still entranced. Inch by precious inch, her skin was revealed, glistening in the soft lilac light they always use to flatter the girls. Not that she needed it.
Her hands felt behind her neck, tossing dark waves of hair across her porcelain shoulders, then wandered purposefully and slowly down her chest, lingering on her perfect little tits. Her eyes locked in orbit with mine and watched me watch her trace her hands down her flat stomach, meeting at the band of her black knickers. Her face crumpled into a smile at the very moment I gulped and felt a wave of excitement fall to the pit of my stomach, her eyes narrowing as she nibbled suggestively on her tongue. Slowly bending over her long, smooth legs she wriggled the last item of clothing from her body. I saw her pussy for the first time, a dense, narrow strip of wiry black hair only partially hiding the moist, fleshy pink lips of her womanhood.
The music quickened as she strutted towards me, placing a perfect pedicured foot between my legs and running it slowly up the inside of my right thigh. I glanced down at a harp of Erin, no larger than a pound coin, tattooed elegantly on the bridge of her foot. I felt my cock strain and harden to meet her touch and this secret part of the real Aoife revealed in confidence in one intimate moment. She pressed deeper into my crotch, caressing my cock with her toes.
I moaned deeply, throwing my head back against the chair.
She broke into a girlish giggle at the other end of a long, silky, white leg.
‘You like this, don’t you?’ she teased.
I swallowed a dry gulp and nodded, looking up at her face, simultaneously playful and masterful. The student-teacher dialectic was reversed here, in her domain; we both knew it, it was in our eyes.
‘I can tell,’ she grinned, gliding her foot down the outline of my shaft, peeling my foreskin through my trousers. I could feel the first drop of precum ooze from my throbbing head.
‘You can’t cum,’ I told myself, looking along the long, lazy curve of her outstretched leg, ‘not so soon. Not here. Not with a student.’
Aoife pirouetted and sat herself between my legs. She ground her arse against my cock, pressing hard and reclining her body into mine. Her hair wafted across my face, tickling my skin. I greedily breathed in her strong, heady perfume as she pushed her head into my shoulder. Cedar and jasmine. My mouth moistened and my hands strained to touch her; I was consumed with animal lust for the young, faultless body draped before me, the purple light revealing tiny goosebumps flowing across her shimmering skin as she arched her back, thrusting her ripe tits and cherry nipples before my open-mouthed gaze.
With serpentine grace, she shimmied and slithered to the floor, prising my legs further apart with her hands and placing her head between them. She edged closer until I could feel her hot, wet breath penetrate my trousers and brush past my aching cock. She bit down on her lower lip and lifted those pale green eyes to mine, half smiling, taunting me without words.
Right there and then, at that moment, she had me. I bucked against the thin fabric of my trousers, desperate to get off, to fuck this teasing cunt with every fibre of my lust, to bury my throbbing dick in her hot, pink mouth. My nostrils flared, my eyes grew wild and wide, my breath galloped. Her mouth melted into a wide, artless smile. She had me: she knew it, and she loved it.
Slowly raising herself up and brushing her umber hair along my chest, she stood before me with her legs wide, the porcelain beauty of her body just inches from my hungry senses. I could hear her fast breaths between the low beats of the music. Taking one purposeful stride forward she lowered herself onto my desperate cock. I felt the damp heat of her cunt flow through my trousers, and exhaled a deep moan as she straddled me, jerking forward and pushing her chest into my face. I tasted sweet jasmine and salty perspiration, my foreskin edged back and forth by the rhythm of her dancing; my hands grew numb, pinned helplessly against my seat.
My groans and breaths grew faster and shallower. I throbbed in sublime agony as I thrust pathetically upwards, desperate to fuck. I grunted and writhed in pained lust; Aoife bubbled and breathed hot, whispered words into my ears.
‘Let go,’ she urged, toying with my chest hairs between the buttons of my shirt.
She arched backwards slightly and dragged her body across my face. Slowly from left to right, her erect nipples grazed my lips as she leant into my face.
‘Let go!’ she breathed, a little more urgently, ‘it’s okay.’
The rhythm changed, a driving downbeat, and Aoife plunged, throwing her hands behind my head and her tits into my face. My nose and mouth were buried in her cleavage. I felt her rise and fall against my hardness, her warm, shallow breaths lapping against my skin.
She moaned for the first time, a high, shocking gasp pierced the low bassline as breaking glass pierces silence. Faster and faster she rocked against my cock, her pussy smothering and soaking me in its humid heat. She trailed her lips temptingly across my face, pausing just millimeters from my parched lips and mouthing, with hot breath, ‘Let go.’
Then back to my right ear, her body grinding harder and faster, my cock edged closer to orgasm by wet heat, soft friction and frustrated desire. ‘Let go,’ she begged, her voice now stressed and urgent, ‘let go… Sir.’
On the last word, spoken with an audible snap of relish, she ground harder and deeper, tossing my foreskin back and forth along the length of my shaft with wild, irregular jerks and thrusts. That word, breaking the taboo we had both strained against our urges to keep, rang in my ears as she rode hard with reckless abandon, her breath rising and mingling with mine as if in a tango. It takes two, and she was into this. ‘Let go, sir.’
Then I felt it. My fingers gripped the chair, my toes curled and hairs shot up across my body. My cock opened like a breached dam as the trickle of precum was replaced with a full-flowing spurt. Then another. And another. I came in thick, heavy waves.
‘Let go.’ Aoife slowed and tightened as she felt the pooling dampness beneath her, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling my face into her tits as she rode my orgasm to its long, shuddering completion, my moans muffled in her soft, sweet skin. ‘Let go.’
Our slowing breaths hissed above the bassy music like rain off a hot pavement. Slower and slower, until Aoife lifted herself, kissed the stubble on my cheek and laughed gently in my ear.
‘We’ll both have sweet dreams tonight…Sir.’
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gvsywz/aoife_mf_teacher_student_lapdance