Confessions Of Christiana - Part 2


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Part 1 can be found here:

One last big, deep, long sigh, a girlish blush, and: “Wellllll….ummmmmm…the truth is….welllll, see, I…honestly, it was…” “Come on, come on, my little Hotwife! Out with it! ‘Fess up!” “Okay, OKAY, I DID get turned on when I was onstage practically naked! I absolutely, positively DID!! My knees would get weak sometimes, I got so damned horny up there with the lights on me! I LOVED being naked, I loved all those men seeing my body! Believe you me, I made every cock in the room hard as a brick, and I loved knowing that I had!! I’ll tell you something else, too: I was a total BADASS on that stripper pole. I mean it, baby. Trust me, I could work that pole, that stage, those horny men, like no other dancer in the whole place!”

I laid it all out for him, it just rolled from me, no way I could stop myself now: how I had gotten myself all dolled up for my Flashdancers interview and audition in one of my most wicked, daring, slutty outfits–a tight, tiny, clingy, nearly see-through little dress Mike and I later named the Orgy Dress, for reasons I’ll tell you all about later, promise–with my very sheerest Victoria’s Secret bra and thong underneath, a pair of plain-black 6-inch stiletto heels providing the finishing touch on my sexy stripper outfit. How I bowled the manager over completely with my private audition in his office–an audition which basically amounted to me getting completely naked for him, after which I gyrated and strutted around the cramped, cluttered space a bit before he ordered me over to sit on his lap. Which I was only too happy to do for him, given the sudden onset of all the now-familiar bodily responses I already well knew I could expect upon finding myself totally nude under the intensely sexual scrutiny of a man I didn’t know at all, a man I had only met just a few minutes ago: the shortness of breath, the loss of all inhibition, the sudden wetness of my throbbing vagina. The manager, easily perceiving my heightening arousal, proceeded without delay to feel me up BUT GOOD while I straddled him–stroking me, squeezing me, caressing me all over my bare body while I wiggled and squirmed and moaned with a pleasure too out of control to conceal. Not that I WANTED to conceal it from this man; no, I wanted him to see every bit of it, and to stiffen his cock even more by my extravagant whorishness.

I went on to tell Mike all about how, after my new boss had given me a fast, sharp orgasm with his highly-skilled fingers (THREE of them, to be precise–ahem!), I had gotten dressed again, walked out of the office, and made my wobbly way down the long hall to the street exit…where, incredibly, I stumbled right into my cousin Mark, who I had always been VERY close to! We were both the same age, unlike the rest of the cousins in the family. We were both considered more or less the outlaws, the black sheep, especially compared to the very strait-laced and more reserved cousins, so we naturally had gravitated towards each other. We always hung out together at family gatherings, and had stayed in touch over the years, occasionally going out for drinks or dinner together.

So you might understand why, running into Mark as I was staggering out of the one and only job interview I’d ever had which had concluded with my new boss making me cum, I was BEYOND mortified. Mark had always been a slightly more straitlaced and modest kind of guy than I had ever even bothered trying to be; my reckless, boundary-testing behavior had always amused him, but this HAD to be just too much!

As he told me later, Mark was only there for some minor construction and repair work the club had hired him for. Oh God, not good, not good at ALL! There was NO WAY he wouldn’t know exactly what I was there for; my skimpy, slutty dress and spike pumps; my heavy makeup and tousled hair; and the fact that he already knew what my job out on Long Island had been for the past couple of years were all dead giveaways as to what I might have been up to at Flashdancers this afternoon. My reason for coming out of NYC’s most infamous strip club in the late afternoon disheveled, face flushed, sweaty, and dressed like a brazen whore couldn’t have been more obvious to anyone experienced enough in such matters to recognize the symptoms. Which I well knew Mark was.

So, knowing all this about his dear old cousin Christiana, would Mark rat me out to my dad, or my mom, or any of the rest of the kith and kin? Would he look down on me himself now, since it was beginning to look as if stripping might be something more than just a temporary lark for me–no more than a spirited but otherwise fairly normal young hellcat sowing a few wild oats before settling down and getting back to real life–and something more along the lines of a career choice? Or at least something I truly ENJOYED doing?

Enjoyed? Ohhh, if Mark only knew the whole truth about his slutty cousin! I must confess, I shocked myself with a sudden flush of sexual arousal from the notion of him knowing all my dirty secrets, made even worse by the onset of a perverse desire for him to decide to come back to Flashdancers and watch me work–seeing me naked, him and me both awash with desire from my erotic dancing, knowing how intensely stripping turned me on!

I told Mike ALL of this stuff, how I had progressed that crazy afternoon from my usual nonspecific sexual buzz; to being masturbated to orgasm by a total stranger during a job interview; to excitement and anticipation on being told the job was mine; to butterflies over whether I was good enough to pull off the jump up to the big leagues of professional stripperdom–was I really hot enough, sexy enough, skillful enough to hold onto the job past my first night? Mike and I laughed a little at the bizarre coincidence of my running into Mark, of all people, in what I considered to be excruciatingly embarrassing circumstances, and then Mike got down to the serious part of the interview with me.

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