Pole Dancer

I dance for a living—the steamier the routine, the better. I lose myself in the sensations, the sinful pleasure of making others hot and bothered. The money is good and I never get bored. Oh, and the love of my life for the past three years is the boss. I had to work hard to get her, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My name is Michelle, by the way. Michelle Long. I’m not the most beautiful and talented exotic dancer on the planet, but I know what makes people tick, or should I say slickin their underwear, guy or girl. I get a special thrill, though, out of girls. They tip really well, too. Life is good.

* * * *

Growing up, my body matured early so boys were always trying to cop a feel and girls eyed me in the showers after gym class. Though I had many opportunities, I never gave in. I wanted my first time to be special. That didn’t stop me, though, from exploring my body’s secret places.

I would lie in bed upstairs in my room, parents fast asleep. Caressing my skin, I would run my hands over my face down to my neck, learning by touch what I liked best. Eyes falling closed, I would continue downward, stroking my breasts and relishing the softness, testing their weight in my hands. I noticed how my nipples hardened as I squeezed harder, the tips tender. I liked them wet so I licked my fingertips and played with the areolas. Moving down my chest to the stomach, I felt its soft roundness, reveling in my burgeoning womanhood. I rubbed my hips up and down, enjoying their fullness. I stroked my inner thighs back and forth, delaying the foray into my vaginal folds.

Gently, I rubbed my pubic hair, enjoying the feel of the tight curls against my fingers, moaning softly. Using one hand, I opened the folds and with the other I probed my core. Noting the wetness, I used my fingers to spread the juice all over, making me slick and hungry. I plunged in and out, slowly pumping my hips and grinding against my hand. Pulling out, I used two fingers to find and rub my clit, already protruding and filling with blood.

I gathered the fluids from deep inside me and rubbed them all over my needy little nub, back and forth, again and again. Something was building, something strong and unyielding. Too soon I was overcome with a headlong rush to a heavenly place and suddenly stars burst behind my eyelids, sending me to the cosmos and beyond. I gasped aloud as my body convulsed with pleasure, pure, sweat-filled ecstasy that made my toes curl.

I collapsed against the sheets, breathing heavily. I slowly dragged both hands up against my skin, the wetness from my fingers leaving a trail behind. Reaching my mouth, I used the remaining slick as lipstick and rubbed the fingertips all over my lips. I brought my hands up to my nostrils, inhaling my essence, completely at peace.

Once I discovered the fun I could have with myself, I spent a lot of time getting to know the inner me. My parents thought I was being such a good girl, not staying out too late, always home on time, finishing my homework with almost no fuss. Little did they know…

* * * *

Anyway, I made it through high school still a virgin, sort of. I had been fondled, kissed, and stroked many times, but I never let it go too far unless I was at home alone in my room.

The summer I turned eighteen, I decided to take a Jazzercise class to keep me in shape while I pigged out on pizza. College was three months away and I needed something to do. I had taken ballet and tap for years so I was limber enough to keep up.

The teacher, Ms. Prim was a tall, slender brunette, twenty-five years old, and a transplant from the west coast. She brought energy and fresh ideas to each class. I fell in love with her lithe movements, expressive face, and the scent of her sweat when she would hold me and show me what I did wrong. I was held, often.

You should know I never went through a stage where I was confused about my sexuality. I knew what I liked and went with it. Most people seemed to appreciate that. Those who didn’t, I ignored.

Back to Ms. Prim. Her first name was Alicia, but ‘Ms. Prim’ was so much the opposite of who she really was that I prefer to remember her that way.

It was 6 o’clock in the evening on a Friday. All the students had left the studio with the exception of Ms. Prim and me. After finishing my shower, I dried my body and, naked, headed toward my locker to get dressed. Almost there, I was suddenly aware of her standing near my destination, also naked and breathtaking. She watched my progress with an intense gaze that burned me from head to toe. Ms. Prim leaned a shoulder against my locker, a small smile on her lips and a dildo in one hand. I guess she finally took the hint. I cocked one eyebrow and looked at her.

“Do you need help with something, Ms. Prim?” I asked.

“Michelle” she said, “I was thinking I could help you. It seemed like you were off your game today. You got so many moves wrong, I think you need to be taught how to focus.”

“So, do I get the dildo if I pay really close attention and do everything you say like a good little girl?” I queried.

Ms. Prim smiled and said, “We’ll see. Follow me.”

She turned around and led the way to the dance floor. I followed her, staring at her supple rear end as it moved from side to side with each step. One sexy woman.