The Godfather

Short of cash? His solution - Podium dancing

A special thanks to RF-Fast for helping to proofread and ensuring the story is in good shape.

My Godfather - Not a gangster, but not a saint

It's reached that point that I've no other option but to visit my Godfather. Don't get me wrong, he's not some Corleone gangster kind of thing, although I wouldn't be surprised if there was some underworld stuff going on.

Let me explain by whisking you back 25 years to my birth. At the time, my parents were very good friends with their neighbours, Harry and Diana Harton. He was a young entrepreneur with his fingers in several businesses, the main one being an estate agency. She was something in a bank.

Being wealthy and respectable, Harry was named as one of my godparents and I got birthday and Christmas cards with money each year, all the way up until I was 18. But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

By the time I started school, my parents were invited over to the Harton's for a party every couple of months. And because I was only next door, my mum wouldn't arrange for a babysitter but pop back and forth to check on me. I remember being a pain in the neck insisting I should go with them to the parties, only to be laughed at, explaining it wasn't that sort of party.

When I turned 10 Diana suddenly moved out, and my parents refused to explain why. They further surprised me by suggesting that I not see Harry as much in the future. Not that I really saw him often in the first place. However, he had a large and overgrown garden and allowed me and my friends to use it for our adventures growing up.

I'd no idea what was going on and when I asked my friends, one suggested he might be a kiddie fiddler. Which, I'd no idea what that was, but it sounded bad. However, within a year of Diana going, Harry sold the house, and we never saw him again.

Or at least my parents didn't.

I'd just turned 18 and was in a nightclub with a friend to try to see if we could persuade someone to buy us drinks. We were old enough, but the drinks in that club were expensive. When suddenly this large middle-aged man in a suit threw his arms around me.

"Gwennie! Baby girl." He exclaimed, hugging me. I could see my friend panicking and looking for security until I recognised him.

"Harry? Uncle Harry." I asked, then hugged him back. He broke the hug and held me at arm's length to look at me.

"It's been, what? 10 years. You're all grown up now."

"More like 8." I replied, but it was hard to talk over the booming noise in the club.

"We should catch up." He answered.

"I'd love that." He thought for a moment.

"How about I get you girls in the VIP area?" He gestured to the smoked glass boxed room, raised up and soundproofed nearby.

Both Amy and I had always been curious about it, but neither wanted to fork out £20 just to look inside. Harry led the way and handed over 2 crisp £20 notes and led us inside.

It was almost like a different club. You could still hear the music, but not at eardrum splitting levels. The floor was covered in a thick carpet and not the sticky hard flooring outside. The place had air conditioning and waiter service. Along with super comfy looking leather chairs around small tables.

Harry walked over to a table with his drink on it and I noticed this was where he must have seen us from, as his table had a view over most of the club. A waiter appeared and Harry ordered two glasses of champagne for me and my friend.

We'd never had proper champagne before, and it felt really special. I introduced Amy, and we chatted over the usual things. How were my parents, what I was planning on doing with my life and so on.

I noticed Harry kept glancing at my friend, and rightly so. We'd both dressed to impress this evening, and weirdly I felt a little jealous. Harry always had the gift of the gab, and whatever reservations Amy had felt for him had vanished. She was laughing along to his slightly off-colour jokes.

Amy and I were nursing the last of our champagne when I noticed a couple of security guys came in, followed by a man in a dark suit.

"Damn, I'm sorry but I've got to go. Business."

"At this time of night?" I asked, surprised.

"Yep, some businesses don't operate on usual business hours." He stood and reached into his pocket and pulled out his business cards.

"Here you go, Gwennie, if you never need a favour, or just want to catch up. Give me a call." He handed one to me and a second to Amy.

"If there's anything I could do for you, as a friend of my Baby-girl, call me."

Amy looked a little surprised. But I watch Harry talking to the waiter before leaving with the dark-suited new arrival. Seconds later, two more glasses of champagne arrived.

"Your 'uncle' told me to tell you; he has left his tab open for you tonight." The way he said uncle made it sound like he was a dirty old man or our sugar daddy. Either way, we weren't complaining.

I've no idea how much champagne we drank or how we got home, but the next day Amy called me to compare headaches.

"That guy last night, was he really your uncle?" She asked.

"Not really, most of the grown-ups when I was a kid were uncles or aunties. He's actually my godfather, though. Why?"

"I looked him up this morning when I found his card in my pocket. He's certainly an interesting character. Do you know what he does?"

"I've not seen him in nearly a decade, back then I think he had something to do with an estate agency."

"Seems like he's moved into far more interesting things. He's a part-owner of a couple of lap dancing clubs. He runs a modelling agency..."

"That explains why he was checking you out last night. And why he gave you, his card." I replied.

"He was checking you out as well. But I don't think it's the type of modelling you'd be interested in. It's for girls who want to be strippers, lap dancers or porn stars."

"Perfect for you then. Can't you just imagine some well-hung stud giving you a good seeing to on camera?"

"Hey, I've no problem getting naked for my boyfriends..."

"Friends, plural I note." I added cheekily, but she ignored me.

"I'll even send them a naughty picture once in a while. But to be naked in front of a room full of sweaty middle-aged men, eww! You wouldn't do that, would you?"

"I don't know it might be fun." I replied, without realising that idea had already planted roots for the future.

I've always had the gift of lucid dreaming, where you're asleep but are aware of it. Where you can exert some control over the dream and let it go in some very interesting directions. Often these can be some of my sexiest dreams. Although they can be a little scary at times.

After that conversation with Amy, I started to have recurring lucid dreams. One was where I was on holiday, and I was sunbathing on a beach. I was lying face down on the sand and had taken off my bikini top to avoid tan lines. I fell asleep and when I woke the tide had come in and washed away all my stuff. I had to make it all the way back along the beach and to my hotel in just my bikini bottoms.

Another in a similar vein was again on holiday. I'd woken up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet and confused the toilet door with that of the hotel corridor. I found myself locked out of my room wearing only a pair of very skimpy panties. I knew if I knocked on my door loud enough to wake anyone inside up, I might wake other guests, and they might come out of their room to see me.

It was the middle of the night and nobody else was around, so I ended up having to go down to reception for a duplicate key. And there were two middle-aged men who insisted I fill out a form and compare my signature to the one I'd registered at the hotel with. All the while juggling my hands to try to cover up my boobs as they openly stared.

Then they insisted on escorting me back to my room. Getting into a mirror-lined lift with two men in only your panties is harrowing. Especially when you can see one is ogling your bum, whilst the other is staring at your partially covered boobs.

They trailed a few yards behind me down the corridor, and I felt brave enough or excited enough to let my arms drop to my side. I may even have added a little wiggle to my walk. At the door, I covered up as they opened the door for me and one cheekily asked for a kiss for his help. It was naughty, but I kissed him and the other guy insisted on one as well. Only when I kissed him did he gave my bum a squeeze.

I never gave either of those dreams and special import, but I was always super horny the next day.

Now it brings me to my current problem. We'll skip through the intervening years of going to university and getting a good job as an accountant. Sharing a flat with a good friend, and sometimes with her boyfriends. Up until two weeks ago.

Blame whatever financial crisis you want, but out of the blue we were told our company declared they had to drastically reduce its overhead. Mostly this was from the salary costs. I was given the choice of redundancy, but with my time in the company that hardly added up to a month's salary. Or I could take a substantial pay cut. However, my other benefits, like pension and gym memberships, would remain untouched.

I had a month to decide, and time was running out.

It was Wednesday night and Amy, my flatmate and I, were sharing cheap bottles of wine trying to figure out what to do. There was no way I could afford to keep paying the rent, and that had a direct impact on her. If I humiliated myself and begged to return home, she couldn't afford to keep the flat herself.

It was late, and we were pretty drunk, the list of options we'd written on scraps of paper becoming more illegible as our alcohol levels rose. Amy had started throwing out silly ideas once the sensible ones were shot down in flames.

She was laughing about getting a red light for our hall and that way I could make money on my back. I laughed back, saying it would save money on petrol. She countered it could save money on clothes if I didn't need to wear them.

Suddenly Amy stopped and jumped up. From the speed and wobble in her movement, I assumed she was going to be sick. She was gone for five or ten minutes, and I was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep on the toilet. When she returned, she had something in her hand.

"Here you go." It was Harry's card from all those years ago.

"You kept it?" I asked, surprised. I'd lost mine years ago.

"I was going to throw it out, but a boyfriend at the time saw it and asked me about it. He got super excited at the idea of me being a stripper or porn star. Making up a few role-plays that got us both going. And whilst I'd never actually do it, you might."

"Hey! Just because I joked it might be fun, I never do it."

"Never say never. Besides, you told me he used to send your money for birthdays and Christmas. Perhaps you could use that he's your Godfather to guilt him into giving you some cash. Or help you with some part-time work. Who knows, you might even be able to keep your clothes on."

I stuck my tongue out at her as she curled up on the sofa, giggling. It was pretty funny, and I joined in. She kept saying things like the stripping accountant or making it sound smutty, how he'd handle my 'deductibles'.

I went to bed and I remember flashes of my dreams, but not enough to make sense. I woke with a horny hangover and regretted getting wasted on a work night. All morning as I drank gallons of water and coffee, I was acutely aware how turned on I was. To the extent, I was almost contemplating nipping into the ladies at lunch time to 'deal' with myself. Not something I'd ever considered before.

However, Amy called and invited me to share our lunch in the park outside my office. So, I never got the chance.

Amy picked up on my mood as I walked up to her.

"Still hungover?" She asked.

"Not really, just..." I let out a long sigh.

"What?" I glanced around to make sure nobody could overhear.

"I'm horny alright. And it's your fucking fault."

"Me!" She exclaimed and started laughing loudly. I spot a few people looking in our direction. Then she grins and leans closer.

"You're not batting for the other team now, are you? I'm flattered but..."

"No, not that. And I know you're sexy, but you lack the equipment I need." I made a penis gesture. "No, it's last night you were teasing me about my Uncle Harry." Amy looks confused.

"I've never told you this, but do you remember when we met him?"

"Only vaguely, we did drink about a case of champagne that night." An exaggeration, I know.

"And you told me what you'd found about him the next day. Made some throwaway comments about being naked in a room full of men."

"So?"

"So, after that, I've had dreams where I'd find myself naked with lots of other people around."

"It sounds like you want to see your Uncle Harry for more than a possible handout."

"Shut up!" I laugh.

"Seriously though. Don't get hung up on dreams like that. Everyone gets them at some point."

However, I suspect not everyone enjoyed them as much as I did.

That afternoon I called Harry and asked if I could pop over and visit him on Friday afternoon. He was surprised to hear from me but gave me his new office address and I was welcome anytime during the afternoon. I asked my supervisor for the afternoon off and given the chaos with so many people looking for other jobs, she agreed and even wished me luck.

Amy and I spent hours Thursday night trying to find the right outfit. Ideally, I wanted to come across as a young professional. Someone Harry would be happy to invest in, rather than just on the scrounge for some cash. It also had to get his attention without being slutty.

We eventually settled on a plain white blouse with a deep 'V' neckline and a charcoal grey skirt. The skirt was shorter than I'd ever wear to work, but I'd worn shorter, just not during the daytime. After an argument with Amy, I went with my only push up bra in black.

It was just about visible through the blouse, and that's why Amy wanted me to wear one of my sexier red bras. However, I was nervous about going that far. Opting for bare legs and moderate heels, we had the outfit. Next, we had to decide how I'd present myself to Harry.

Ideally, he'd give me the money, or at least loan it to me. Failing that, he might be able to find me some legitimate part-time work through his network of business friends. Despite Amy's repeated joking suggestion that I'd make a great stripper, I knew I'd never do that.

I was nervous at work the next morning, despite my 'interview' clothes being in a bag on my desk. Amy met me at lunch, and we snuck into her office and into the disabled toilet, where I changed. Amy made sure my lipstick was a little bolder than usual, but not excessively so. She then leant me her ankle-length raincoat and took my regular clothes away with her.

I was very self-conscious on the bus heading over to the address Harry had given me. Not being used to a long coat, it kept slipping off my legs, revealing my short skirt over and over. I'm sure the guy sitting in the seat opposite was thinking I was doing it deliberately, but I swear I wasn't. Without meaning to, I found myself thinking of my naughty dreams, where I'd had to parade around semi naked in front of people. However, there was a huge difference between doing it in a dream and in reality.

By the time I got off the bus I was a little flustered. Despite rejecting Amy's teasing about me becoming a stripper, I couldn't help thinking about it. In my dreams my exposure was accidental. However, the idea of standing on a stage and exposing myself was both terrifying and wickedly exciting.

Harry's office was in a brand-new shopping centre on the outskirts of town. Stepping inside revealed a large atrium along the whole length of the building. On the ground floor were the usual high street brands. On the 1st floor were the smaller, more local shops, and I noticed not all the units were occupied.

On the 2nd floor, below the glass roof, were glass-fronted offices. Most of which appeared unoccupied. Instantly, I thought I knew which office would be Harry's. I could see an office right in at the end of the atrium, which looked down the length of the building. From what I knew of Harry, that was his style.

Stepping into the elevator, as it started to rise, I was surprised to see that not only did it have glass sides, but the floor was also glass, and I was intently aware of how short my shirt was. Anyone standing close and looking up might see up my skirt. Given how I was already feeling it provokes a new mini fantasy. Being stuck in the elevator in a short skirt and no underwear and having a group of men looking up at me. On a whim I twirled and let my skirt flare out a little and giggled at the silliness of it.

I saw Harry at his desk tapping away on his computer, and an empty reception office connected to his. A few sofas, reception desk and filing cabinets, but nobody was there. Stepping inside, I tapped on the heavy glass door to his office, and he looked up smiling and waved me in.

It all looked brand new, and as I entered his office, I slipped off the coat, making a note of him eyeing me up and down. It seems phase one of my plan was working.

"Gwennie, Baby-girl."

"Uncle Harry." I replied.

"Uncle, really?" He sounded a little offended.

"Baby-girl, really?" I reply, mirroring his tone.

"Touché. I supposed you'd prefer Gwendoline now you're all grown up."

"Actually, I like Gwennie, if only from you."

"Ok, Gwennie it is. What can I do for you?" That's where it started to fall apart.

Amy and I had come up with some ideas on how to approach this, but under Harry's stare, I found it harder than I thought to keep it together. Obviously, Harry had seen and heard it all. So, his goddaughter turning up looking for money wasn't going to sway him too far. After I finished, I felt like I was a kid again, admitting to accidentally breaking some panes of glass in his greenhouse.

"I understand Gwennie, but I don't think a few hundred, or even a few thousand is going to get you out of this hole. From what you've told me, and I know what is going on in the market. Despite what your company is saying the reduced salary offered will be in place for a minimum of a year. Probably longer." My company had promised it would only be 6 to 9 months, and I'd not considered that they might stretch it out longer.

"In that case, is there any way I could earn something? I could do your accounts or something." A smile spreads over his face as he sadly shakes his head.

"Sorry Baby-girl, and meaning no offence, but my accounting is way too complicated for someone as junior as you to deal with. And money's tight at the moment. I've just bought this place." He gestured.

"The office?" I ask.

"No, the entire building."

Fuck! I'd no idea he was that wealthy. The surprise must have shown on my face.

"Well, to be honest, me and a small select group of investors."

"Have you any other ideas?" I ask and he goes silent.

I realise he's looking me over again. With my legs crossed, the skirt is exposing an awful lot of flesh. I'd checked out my reflection in the lift and the push-up bra was both visible and giving my cleavage a boost.

I don't think I've ever been appraised so clinically before. Yes, guys look and sometimes they are obvious about it. However, this is different and a little shiver goes down my spine.

"Do you still dance?" The question startles me and I jump.

"Yeah, but not like I used to. But I still do it when I can." As a girl, I'd always been going to one dance class or another.

"And it's obvious you're not averse to showing a little flesh." My heart seems to skip a beat. However, Harry continues.

"Look, I've got a contract to provide 6 podium dances to a club for tonight and tomorrow. One of the dancers pulled out at the last minute. Do you think you could do it?"

My stomach clenched in shock. Was he asking if I could be a stripper, just like that? But what was more shocking was the jolt of excitement I felt from lower than my stomach. My hidden desire to be seen.

"What are podium dancers and what do they..." Words failed me and I gestured vaguely at my clothing.

"Don't worry, there's no nudity. However, usually it is very skimpy outfits. The podium dancers stand on raised platforms and are really just eye candy for the club. You usually do two sets in a night. Let me check the contract."

As Harry goes back to his computer, I wonder if I could do this. From the age of 6 to about 13, I'd regularly done dance recitals. Often in leotards of something similar and when Amy and I went dancing, we tried to be the centre of attention most of the time. Was this that much different?

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" Harry's question breaks my train of thought. "I had some daft bint, who sailed through her audition and on the night begged off because of her podium being 5 foot tall."

"No, heights don't bother me. What does it pay?"

"Sorry, you're getting a little ahead of yourself there. The owner of the club insists on knowing that each girl I provide can dance. He doesn't want some pretty mannequin on the podiums."

"Well, that's the idea, scuppered. If he wants to see me and the gig is tonight, there is no way..."

"I know you can dance, and I know how sexy you look." I felt myself blushing a little.

I'd never been assessed so clinically and declared sexy in such a casual way. In fact, I don't think any man had ever outright called me sexy.

"So provided we send him a few photos and a short video, and I'll vouch for you. Now let me check on the costumes in the contract."

I felt a wave of gratitude that Harry was not only helping me, but was putting his reputation on the line for me.

"Here we go." He chuckles. "There is some big football thing tomorrow, so the owner has the VIPS in the club tonight, then the players and VIPS tomorrow. The costumes are subject to change at the last minute, but currently, we have it down as a sexy schoolgirl for the first set tonight. Followed by silver hot pants bikini top and tinsel wigs for the second. Usually, that's a Sci-Fi vibe. So, expect some body paint."

That doesn't sound too bad. "And tomorrow?" I ask.

"Typically, schoolgirls again for the first set. Oh, and something different for the second. Sexy football outfits on the second."

I looked confused, and he grinned.

"Usually, a tight football shirt cropped just below the bust. A hint of under-boob to literally titillate the men. I doubt if there'll be many women there. If you are interested, I'd need your height and weight?"

"'I'm five foot nine and about eight stone, I'm not sure exactly."

"And your other vital statistics."

"32-28-33." I reply automatically.

"You missed the most important one."

"I'm a 'C' cup." I could feel a little heat in my face as Harry stared intently at my tits.

"I'd have guessed bigger, but being slim and the magic of modern bras. I'm sure you're right."

I was tempted to explain about the push up bra, but talking to my Godfather about my underwear seemed weird.

"You mentioned photos and a video; would you do that here?" I was horribly aware of how exposed this whole office was to anyone looking up.

"No, we'd go back to my place. That way we can sort you out the costumes. However, if you're nervous about posing up here, perhaps we should forget the entire thing. It would be worse for my reputation to turn up with 6 and have one drop out at the last second."

"No, I can do it. I'm sure I can."

"I don't know Gwennie. Dancing in a night club surrounded by your friends is one thing. On a podium with people looking up your skirt or commenting on the things they'd like to do to you as if you're just a piece of meat. That's different and you cannot just walk away."

"I promise I can do it. I won't let you down."

"Prove it."

"How?" I ask, not sure what he means.

"I can see you have a nice bra under that blouse. If you stand up and face the atrium and pull your blouse up to your chin, I might believe you have what it takes."

Never one to walk away from a challenge, I stood and faced the window. Butterflies in my stomach. Was I really going to do this? Flash my bra in a shopping centre? Admittedly, there was no reason for anyone to be looking up here.

Suddenly it was the collision of two worlds. One where I was the mostly modest, well-behaved daughter, the other the woman who fantasises about being naked in public. This might be the only chance I could fulfil that fantasy, if only in part.

Glancing at Harry, his expression said 'I knew you would not do it' was the straw that broke the camel's back. Grasping the hem of my blouse, I lifted it. My heart in my throat as my stomach and then the bottom of my bra was exposed in the reflection from the large glass window.

Suddenly the blouse stopped, and I realised I needed to un-tuck it from the back of my skirt. Dropping the cloth, I freed the rest of the blouse and did it again. This time I had it all the way up to my chin. Looking down to see my boobs lifted and pushed together by the bra makes me feel excited as well as scared.

Harry stepped over to lean his back against the glass and look at me. My nerves faltered for a moment. Anyone outside would see me only as a tiny shape in the distance. Harry was within arm's length and that sent a frisson of excitement which confused me. I'd never thought of Harry in context of anything sexual. Or at least until now.

That thought confused me even more, and I dropped my blouse back into place. I found myself thinking of Harry as a regular hot-blooded man for the first time. Someone who could be sexually attracted to me. Weirdly it was important to me he was, and not just for this job. The desire to be attractive enough to him as 'the man' outweighed my other feelings about the job. It was a little frightening to think of him as a sexual being after all the years I'd known him.

"You're certainly not a little girl anymore, Gwennie. I for one would be extremely happy to see you dance in some skimpy outfit."

"Did I pass your test?" I ask and notice my voice is a little thready.

"The first part. How did you get here?"

"On the bus, why?"

"I'll drive you over to my place, get the photos and video done. Then hope Vinnie accepts you as a dancer. If he does, I'd drive you home and pick you up at 7 pm. The first set goes on at 9 pm, but I'll try to get a couple of the other dancers to go early and help prep you for the night."

Harry's home was behind a high wall and electric gates. It was very modern and seemed rather modest considering he was part owner of a shopping centre. After we went inside, he helped me take my coat off and I thought he was standing rather close. I wondered if he was trying to peek down my blouse. But I dismissed that idea as he'd already seen my bra in his office.

He led me down to a substantial basement and into a storeroom. The walls were unfinished concrete and lined with row after row of metal shelving. The shelves were filled with dozens of plastic storage boxes. As I followed Harry, I could make out some contents, and I wondered what else Harry was into.

Several boxes showed DVDs and the photos on the cover showed they were extremely hard-core porn. Another rack showed boxes of sex toys. Dildos, anal beads and so on. I shivered, and it wasn't from the chilled air in the room. I'm not a prude, but I've never been into a sex shop, and this was a bit much.

Some objects were harder to identify. Until I saw handcuffs and I realised some of it was bondage gear. It was a shock to find the idea appealed.

"Here we are." Harry's voice brought me back from my daydreaming.

He pulls out a plastic crate and puts it on a table. Rummaging through it, he pulls out a silver bikini and then a pair or matching hot pants.

"Put these on."

"Here?" I ask, a little scared.

"If you want, but most girls would go next door."

As I walked away, I wondered if that was another test and if I should have just stripped off in front of Harry. For some reason, the idea appealed.

The next room was different. It was about the same size, but the walls had been plastered and painted white. The floor was covered in carpet tiles and had several still and video cameras in it. The idea that some of those DVDs might have been recorded in this room turned me even more on for some reason.

For moments I just took in the room, and my imagination ran wild until I remembered why I was here. Stripping off my blouse and skirt, I put them on the desk next to the door. As my bra came off, I hesitated. I was wearing only a skimpy pair of panties and shoes. In the basement of a man, I hardly knew. Nobody knew where I was, and all sorts of dubious scenarios popped into my head.

Literally shaking my head, I was sure I was worrying for nothing. This was Uncle Harry I was thinking about.

Slipping off my panties and noting a damp feeling down below, I stepped into the silver bikini bottoms. They felt rather cold from the semi-metallic feel to the cloth. Slipping on the top, I felt almost like it was a size too small, with my tits hanging out of the sides a little. Looking around, I hoped to find a mirror to see how I looked.

Instead, I buttoned up the shorts. As with the top, the shorts are tight, but I suppose that's how they are supposed to be. Squatting down, I can feel the material tight against me, and I'm very aware of it pressing against my already aroused pussy.

Regardless of how this worked out, I'd look forward to dealing with myself when I got home. A very naughty thought crossed my mind. I wondered if I could ask Harry to give me one of those dildos.

A knock on the door startled me.

"Gwennie, are you decent?"

"Sure."

Harry entered with an armful of clothing.

"Now I'm certain Vinnie will take you. You look amazing. Even better than I imagined."

"And how often have you imagined me in a skimpy bikini." I teased, and he shook his head.

"Yep, you really are not the little innocent girl I remember." He set the clothes down and moved over to turn on more lights.

It exposed a low circular platform about 8 inches high and a set of studio lights.

"This is a mock-up of the podium we usually use. It's useful to get the hang of how small they are, as you'd not want to fall off. I'll dig you out some socks and plimsolls for the schoolgirl outfit if we get Vinnie's approval, but for now, it's better if you keep your own shoes on. Up you get." He nodded to the platform and grabbed a camera.

As the lights come on, I feel the heat instantly. It took a few moments to get used to the glare as Harry fiddled with the camera. He started taking photos and telling me how to pose. Arms up at shoulder height, above my head, then one behind my head and a hand on my hip.

It's all quite simple and Harry added jokes to keep it light. Leaning over to allow him to focus on my tits, another from the back with me bending to emphasise the curve of my bum. Whilst he was making it easy, there is still an underlying sexiness about this. Or at least to me it is. I was sure Harry has done this dozens, if not hundreds of times.

I got a moment's insecurity. What if I wasn't up to his usual standard? He must have seen so many pretty young things. Girls who'd go further just to get the job. I wonder what they offered him to get the job, and I missed Harry's next instructions.

"You OK, Gwennie. The lights can be off-putting at first."

"No, I'm fine." I lied. Trying to stop daydreaming about sexual things.

"Ok, I want you to change into the next costume. I'll find some suitable music, and we'll video you this time."

Harry grabbed the clothing from the desk and handed it to me, then sat down and fired up a computer. With his back to me I paused and wondered, did he intend that I change here in the same room as him?

Moments ticked by and I couldn't make up my mind. Did it bother me that Harry saw me naked? In fact, did I actually want him to? I couldn't make up my mind and if I waited too long, he might think I couldn't do it again.

Setting the new clothing on the podium, I stripped off to stand naked, watching Harry's back the entire time. If he made a move to turn around, I wasn't sure if I'd try to cover up or stand proud and exposed.

It was almost with a sense of disappointment that I started to dress without him looking. By the time I was finished I was pretty much looking like Britney Spears from her 'Hit me baby one more time' video. A typical male fantasy costume. Lifting the skirt, I almost felt a little disappointment that the panties weren't all that sexy.

Music blared out of the computer and Harry turned around. I dropped the front of the skirt, but he must have seen my panties before it fell.

"Get up on the podium again. I'll turn on the video camera and let you dance as you think fit. I've no expertise in that area."

Dancing to the music, a little stiffly at first as I watched Harry focus the video camera on me. Amy may have been OK with her boyfriend's having sexy photos of her, but I'd never been comfortable with it. However, I was starting to feel differently about that now. The idea that sexy images of me were out there, beyond my control, seemed like an exciting prospect.

As the second song came on, I started to relax and it's one I've danced to often. Harry was standing near the camera and watching, and I played up to him, adding suggestive moves and looks. It was a little disappointing that he didn't react as I expected. He was all business like or nearly so. I was sure I could make out a bulge in his trousers, which made me feel better.

OK, that was a weird thing to think about. For what I was doing it was what we were after, but glad I could get my godfather hard was confusing.

As the third song came on Harry called a halt.

"OK, Gwennie, that's enough. Let's get in touch with Vinnie and see if we've been wasting our time or not."

Standing in his kitchen making tea in a pervert's idea of a schoolgirl's uniform felt a little weird as Harry talked on his phone. I felt flattered at the praise he gave me over my dancing skills and my body. Hoping Vinnie wouldn't be disappointed. As Harry hung up, he gave me a thumbs-up.

"We're good so far. I just need to email him the photos and video." He left me and returned to the basement.

Knowing a stranger would be looking at my body and assessing my sexiness gave me a weird buzz. It clashed with my upbringing of feminism and not having women objectified. Perhaps that's why it made me feel like that? The taboo outdated concept of being treated as just a sex object. Because it was wrong, was that what made it exciting?

Suddenly, I remembered I've no idea what this job pays. However, at this moment, it was more than just the money.

I'd finished my tea by the time Harry returned with a grin.

"Excellent, Vinnie thinks you're better than the original girl. Let's talk about money. Normally, I'd take 15% as an agent's fee, but for you, I'll waive that. For the two nights of work, you get £300." My disappointment shows and he looks stern.

"Gwennie, I've no idea what you were expecting. But that's pretty good. Less than 4 hours of work and it's not even that hard." I nod in resignation, he's right, but it wouldn't help me keep my flat.

"I can get you jobs that pay more." He pauses and thinks for a moment. "Did you ever wonder why your parents suddenly wanted nothing to do with me?" The sudden change in topic intrigued me. I nodded; not sure I wanted to know the answer.

"I bought an interest in a company that produced X-rated DVDs. It was struggling, and I was able to turn it around. However, that meant I had to be on set whilst they filmed to make sure, they weren't wasting my money. My ex-wife assumed I was getting sexual favours from the female stars. I wasn't and I never have. However, she told your parents about my work just before she left me.

"So, whilst that venture went down the pan years ago, I've contacts that could offer you work for £3,000 or £4,000 for a couple of days' work. But I doubt you'd like it. It's the sort of thing that could be life changing for good or bad."

If I struggled with the idea of being a stripper, the idea of being a porn star almost blew my mind. Unsure what to say, I nodded in agreement that sort of thing wasn't for me.

"Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to belittle what you're offering. £300 is good money for a few hours of work, but I'm not sure it helps long term."

"Gwennie, if it works out tonight and tomorrow, I can probably get you three gigs like it a month. Each in a club far enough from here that nobody you know would see or hear about you. I doubt your parents would be pleased to know we're talking, let alone me offering you work." I had to grin about that. If mum didn't faint, she'd hit the roof.

A little before 8 pm we arrived at the club and Harry introduced me to two women. Both around my age, a little shorter and fairly attractive.

"This is Tina, and this is Bob." He said.

"I'm Kate, but Harry still thinks that ancient Blackadder joke is funny." She shakes my hand as Harry leaves us to it.

"So, Harry Hard-on says you can dance?"

"It's Harton." I reply automatically and Tina laughs.

"It's just a nickname, given what he does for a living, and sometimes he gets a..." She leaves it unfinished as I grinned in understanding. "Have you spotted that yourself?" I nodded a little sheepishly.

"And anything else?" It's a little suggestive and I shook my head. Realising I was feeling a little disappointment at that.

"How did you find him?" Tina asked me and I realised telling them he was my Godfather would be a bad idea.

"He gave a friend of mine a business card, and when I was looking for some extra money, she suggested Harry."

"Back to the dancing, what experience have you got?" Kate asked.

I listed the dance classes I'd done, ending with my last class at age 13.

"So, when the girls turned up..." I grasped my tits. "I realised tap was not for me." The three of us grinned, and I realised I could get on with these two. Tina nodded at Kate who continued.

"Ok, you're qualified, probably overqualified really. Most of our dancing is just what you feel like. Nothing clever, make sure you always add a shimmy."

She put both hands over her head and bent her knees a little. Shimmying her bust about and also her bum around.

"And the drop and pop." Tina added.

Squatting down quickly and opening and closing her legs in a flash, then standing up again. I could imagine that would flash my panties to the audience. Kate explained further.

"We have a few choreographed dances, but we'll put you on podium 4. That way you can watch Tina and me. It's not hard and I'm sure you can keep up..." Tina interjected.

"And if all else fails, as I always say, flash your tits. Gets you out of so much trouble." Kate grinned with a shake of her head and added.

"Technically, you shouldn't, in a place like this, it isn't licensed for that. But if you fuck up, a quick and I mean quick flash gets you off the hook nine times out of ten."

I wasn't sure if they were joking about flashing the crowd, but I was determined not to fuck up to find out.

We start to get ready and the pair show me more moves as two more women arrive a little after 8:15 pm. At 8:45 pm, the last girl arrived.

"I know, I know. The fucking babysitter was late, and then the car wouldn't start. If I didn't owe the Hard-on so much, I'd have blown this off."

"This is Beth." Kate introduced the latecomer, as she tore off her clothes.

"Hey, new girl." She called, tossing her panties across the room. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm kinda busy." She said, slipping into her underwear.

Tina spoke up. "I told you not to take a loan from Harry."

"I know, but at this rate, I'm almost tempted to take him up on the offer to shoot a porno. A few grand for a day on my back. Sounds sweet." Kate shook her head.

"The days of people paying to see that sort of video are over. According to Harry, there's too much free porn out there. Unless you're going for something weird like interracial gang bangs or fake incest porn, I think it's a lot harder than you think."

Talking about porn, let alone taking part in it, sounds so alien to me I worry I'm on another planet.

The first set was a bit of a blur. I remember us lining up in a corridor and following the security guys down a narrow path they made between the customers. The noise and lights flashing, making the whole thing surreal. The podium was higher than I expected, and it took me a few songs to relax enough to dance smoothly.

I fluffed the choreographed dances, but not too badly, and not badly enough I felt I had to flash the crowd. When we returned to the changing room, everyone including Beth was complimentary about my dancing. I was feeling a little bit of a high that I'd done it.

And standing in a room full of naked women was making it all the more strange. We all changed into our silver bikinis and hot pants. Then I had another surprise. Kate brought out a roll of masking tape and a small, compressed air paint gun.

Obviously, the others were used to this as Kate tore off strips of tape and created geometric shapes on the faces and bodies of the other girls. Then used the air gun to paint in the spaces. Changing the little glass bottle frequently to change the colour.

Most were purple and red. Some deep blues and a little gold. Tina would peel off the tape and paint on white or black edging or abstract characters randomly on the body. When it was my turn, it felt weird to be blind to what they were doing as Kate had created a large triangle that went from my forehead and over one eye and nose.

The second set was easier, and I remembered more about it, not messing up the choreographed moves this time. But I did notice some body paint fluoresced under some unseen black light. I noticed Tina had drawn a penis on the small of Beth's back and I had to suppress laughter.

We were all pretty buzzed by the time we got back to the dressing room and tried to clean up the makeup. I'd not put on enough pre-makeup primer, and I was struggling to get my makeup off. Much to the amusement of the others.

Realising I'd need to scrub it off in the shower later, I abandoned it and changed into my street clothes. There was a knock on the door, and Kate took a quick check to see if everyone was decent. Beth was still in her bra and panties but shrugged like she didn't care.

"Come in." She bellowed. The man that walked in was wearing an expensive suit and gave off an air of power. "Mr Vincent. What did you think?"

"Excellent as always Kate. I was a little worried at the last-minute change, but the new girl fit in well." He looked at me and held out his hand.

"I'm, Gwen." I offered and shook it.

"Harry was almost too effusive over his praise. I was worried he was losing it. However, once again he's proven he still knows his business. You are a singular beauty and an excellent dancer. I hope to see you here again."

"I'll be here again tomorrow. After that, I'm not sure."

"I'll have to talk to Harry to ensure he does whatever he can to keep you. Goodnight, ladies. I thank you once again."

After he left, I felt a little embarrassed. Two of the girls looked a little pissed at his praise of the new girl. Kate dealt with it.

"He's always like that for the new girls. But he does have a point, I hate to say it, but you might be a better dancer than me. If you keep doing this, I might have to step down as troupe leader."

"God, I don't want that. Besides, I've no idea if I'll keep doing this. But if I do, I'll happily share what I know about dancing to improve the entire group." I think it was the right thing to say as the hostility seemed to vanish.

Harry was very pleased with me, and I was feeling energised with everything I'd done as he drove me home.

"You, ok?" he asked as I found my feet tapping on the floor of his Jaguar.

"Sorry, but a bit hyper. If you spot somewhere open, I'd love a bottle of wine to wind down."

"I think it's a bit late for that. But I've more than enough booze at my place and some soaps that should short that out." I flipped down the sun visor, and I looked in the mirror, seeing the purple stain across part of my face.

"Thanks." I replied and turned on his radio and selected something loud. He shook his head but didn't stop me.

At his house, he opened a bottle of wine and poured me a large glass. After the first sip, I realised it was many times better than the cheap crap I usually drank. Harry disappeared and returned in a sweatshirt and pants with a large whisky in hand.

I'd turned on the TV and found some music channel to listen to, and Harry seemed content to let me bob my head and feet to the music. For nearly half an hour we drank in silence until Harry spoke up.

"Don't forget your shower. I've put some specialist makeup remover in the hall shower and warm towels."

This time, I had no issues in stripping off in Harry's home. Looking into the mirror, I grinned at the makeup covering my face and upper breasts. Twenty minutes later, I wiped the steam from the mirror and checked the makeup was gone. I was coming down from the high of the night and started to feel really tired. Rather than put my clothes back on, I wrapped my hair in a towel and my body in another.

Harry was looking the worse for wear when I returned but smiled at seeing my naked legs and shoulders.

"I think I've had too much to drink. I could call you a taxi or you could stay. No funny business I promise. There's a guest room across the hall."

The call of the expensive wine and the hassle of dressing and going home seemed too much right now.

"I'll stay if you promise nothing, iffy." He held up his glass in promise. "Assuming you know how to cook your guests a decent breakfast." I added.

He grinned a little drunkenly. Then spoke.

"Of course, but you have to tell me how it was. Were you scared or excited by tonight? It's something I can never get my head around. It's different for guys."

"Can I tell you in the morning? I'm still trying to get my head around it myself."

"Fair enough. I hope you realise Gwennie I'm only trying to help." His eyes closed and his whisky glass rested on his chest.

I was fairly certain he was asleep in moments. Not me, I was mellowing out with the wine, but not ready for sleep yet.

I turned off the TV and found my room. It was far nicer than anything I'd ever slept in. A jumbo king size bed, easily over 7-foot square. Tasteful decorations in dark muted colours. Childishly I threw myself down in the middle of the bed and my towel fell off. Instantly I move to cover myself up then stop with a wicked grin. Laying back spread-eagled across the bed luxuriating in the feeling of freedom and the naughtiness of being naked in someone else's home.

I was feeling a little odd. Was it disappointment after the highs from earlier? From about the age of 16, I made the connection that when I danced, I got mildly aroused. It was something about being in touch with your whole body as you moved. Feeling the fluid movements and the flexibility of my body. I certainly knew I enjoyed sex far more after going out dancing first.

It was kind of a combined warm up session, like before strenuous exercise, and prolonged foreplay. However, tonight on the podium had been that on steroids. It's not that I've never danced sexy with my friends on the dance floor. However normally you couldn't go too far as you had to worry about other people bumping into you. Plus, guys 'accidentally' trying to cop a feel.

The podium was like a force field keeping me safe and allowing me free rein. And because of the height there was no one like other dancers blocking people from seeing me. Even though I was only 1 of 6, it felt like I was the centre of attention. It made me feel special and it reminded me of my dance recital when I was younger. A feeling I'd not realised I missed until now.

The big difference was as an adult I could tell the difference between the enjoyment of showing off my dance skills and how I felt about it now. I was still proud of my dancing, but now I could admit it was more about people admiring my body. I'd never really thought about it until now, but I certainly had exhibitionistic tendencies. Moreover, I found the whole thing more of a turn on than I'd ever suspected.

Without conscious thought, my hand slipped down and my fingers traced over my pussy. As they brush my clit, the jolt of pleasure brought me back to the moment. I'm naked and spread-eagled on Uncle Harry's spare bed and playing with myself. I'd not even closed the bedroom door. What would Harry think if he came upstairs and saw me?

Suddenly I'm imagining him standing at my door watching me play with myself. I'm watching him as he's watching me. Wordlessly, he steps into the room and slips off his pants and climbs on top of me. Then teaches me why he had the nickname of Harry Hard-on all night long.

Fuck! Why did I have to think that? Not the idea of having sex with an older guy. Admittedly I preferred older guys. Although I'd never been with someone that much older than me. I liked the way they were more self-assured and confident. And, whilst I had no issue with paying my way, I always felt special when a guy insisted on paying.

There was something about thinking about Harry that way. Perhaps it was the taboo of him being my 'uncle', perhaps it was that my parents would be scandalised if they knew I was thinking of him as a potential lover. Now I really wanted to get myself off.

Suddenly the idea of sneaking down to the basement and borrowing one, or more, of his sex toys popped into my head. The image of creeping down the stairs naked, walking across the cold concrete floor as I perused the boxes of toys as I made my selection. There were quite a few to choose from, including anal toys.

I'd always been curious about that but never had the guts to try it. From the prevalence of anal in porn these days, I was sure most guys would jump at the chance. But I wasn't sure if I asked for it and didn't like it, if the guy would stop. Of course, I was sure someone older and more experienced like Harry, would respect my decision.

In my fantasy, I chose a good-sized vibrator and a smaller anal toy with a tube of lube and started to hurry upstairs to return to my bedroom. However, when I got to the ground floor, I found Harry standing there and caught me red handed with a sex toy in each hand. I was so embarrassed and he dragged me into the lounge to punish me for going through his things without asking.

He pushed me down over his knee and spanked me, and I let him. Then he used both toys on me at the same time. Until I climaxed all over his knees.

Whoa! Wait where did that come from? I'd never considered spanking or submission in my sex life. Either in real life or fantasy. That fantasy popped up fully formed and it was a little disturbing. Was that just because I'd seen the sex toys and bondage gear in the basement, or was it something I'd never admitted even to myself I wanted to try?

It confused me and broke the mood.

Getting off the bed, I neatly folded the towels over the back of a chair, and I closed the door before slipping into bed. The sheets felt like a gazillion thread count and the duvet was heavy and comforting. I could wait until I got home in the morning and use my vibrator to sort myself out. It would save any embarrassment of Harry finding cum stains on my sheets.

Or I could hold off and let the sexual energy grow to use it in my 2nd performance at the club. That way when I got home, I could really go to town and fuck myself hard. Yes, that sounded good, but I'd really need to remember to ensure the vibrator was charged before I left for the club. There would be nothing worse for it to die when I'd only just got started. That had happened before.

Despite how late I'd gone to bed, I awoke refreshed. It just reminded me how small and uncomfortable my mattress at home was. Plus, that damn loose manhole cover outside my flat. Lorries drove over it all day and night making it rattle. Slipping from the bed, I looked for my clothes, only to remember I'd left them in the bathroom in the hall, downstairs.

Wrapping the towel around me, I headed down the stairs and imagined the view Harry would have had if he'd been standing at the bottom. Shit! I was still horny. I wasn't sure if I could make it all the way to tonight to relieve myself. I heard a sound from the kitchen and popped my head in to see Harry fiddling with an expensive looking coffee machine.

"Morning!" I said brightly, and he gave me a back handed wave and returned the greeting.

As I dressed in the bathroom, I noticed a few stains from the makeup last night and it brought home the reality of what I'd done.

I'd not had the chance to even tell Amy I was going to be a professional dancer. She'd gone straight from work to some family event. I was certain she'd want every detail about what happened. The idea of making up some wild story about getting naked and fucking a bunch of guys would be fun. But I wasn't sure if I could pull that off without laughing.

As I returned to the Kitchen, Harry slid a large mug of black coffee across the kitchen counter towards me.

"I'm not sure how you take it."

"I like my coffee like I like my men, strong and black." That earned a raised eyebrow from Harry. "Joking! Remember it is a line from the movie Airplane!" I reply and inhale the steam from the coffee.

It was too hot to drink, but it smelled divine. Harry moved around the kitchen getting a frying pan, eggs, butter and cheeses. For some reason I'd assumed he was like my dad and useless in the kitchen.

"Omelette and toast?" He offered and I nodded greedily. I'd been too nervous to eat last night so my stomach was gurgling at the thought of food.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd stayed over at someone else's house and had them make me breakfast. Not even any of my recent boyfriends. Suddenly it felt a little like we'd been on a date last night. As Harry stood with his back to me, whisking up the eggs, added seasoning and grated two types of cheese into the mix I looked at him more objectively.

He must be close to 50 but could pass for closer to 40. There was grey in his short, cropped hair, but it didn't make him look old. Unlike my dad, he'd kept himself in shape, and he had a broad back. Without meaning to, I lean forward and look at his bum in his jeans. Pretty good. Not saggy or non-existent. I liked a guy with a good bum. Amy always joked a guy needed a good hammer to drive home a big nail, while making fucking motions.

Damn, I'm thinking about Harry in a sexual way again. But why not, at least in a theoretical way. I could imagine hanging onto his arm as he guided me into some fancy restaurant or some west end show. Having him buy me nice clothes and sexy underwear.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a material girl only out for what I can get. If a guy buys me gifts, I always return the favour, however, it's usually repaid in the bedroom using my body. The image of entering a hotel room with Harry and having him sit on the bed and watch as slipped off a slinky dress and modelled the underwear he'd bought me. Then letting him take them off and take me. It sent a little shiver down my spine at the intensity of the mental image.

Harry poured the mixture into a frying pan and turned to face me.

"So, Baby-girl. How did you sleep?" I let the baby-girl comment slide. It hit a nerve given what I'd just been thinking about.

"Good actually, and you?" I asked, then took a sip of my coffee. Perfect!

"Passing out on the sofa is nothing new. Sorry for being a poor host."

"If breakfast is as good as it smells, I'll let you off." He laughed and put some thick bread in the toaster.

A couple of minutes later he slips the omelette on a plate next to the hot buttered toast.

"Oh wow. I should sleep here more often." I comment and Harry gives me a bemused look. "You know what I meant." I laughed.

"Gwennie, sometimes men hear what they want to hear. Especially when it's a beautiful young woman saying it." I stuck my tongue out, but he grinned as he put his own breakfast together.

The omelette was amazing; the two sharply flavoured cheeses made it zing. Harry was soon sitting opposite and was content to eat silently. I'm not as comfortable with silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask, I may not answer. And I expect you to answer my question from last night."

"One of the girls last nights called you Harry Hard-on..." He chuckled, then took a bite of his toast.

"Not the first time I've heard that. A play on words..."

"And an observation of physical facts." Harry looked more serious and set his knife and fork aside. He now knew I'd spotted his erection from yesterday.

"I suppose that's true as well. I'm sorry about that. There's nothing I can do about it, so you can be offended or flattered. Take your pick. It's only natural being around sexy women I react as my body was programmed to."

"Isn't it; I'm trying to think of an alternative word for hard. Isn't it difficult? Being around scantily clad women."

"Sometimes. Just because a woman is scantily clad, does not mean I have any rights or expectations to her body. Intellectually I know that, but Harry junior is a bit thick." I grin that he calls his penis Harry junior.

"Ok, your turn. How was it last night?"

"Scary at first, and by the end it was fine."

"Just fine?"

"OK, if you must know, I liked it. I loved the attention. It turns out I've got a bit of an exhibitionist streak."

His fork pauses part way to his mouth as I say this and I start to blush. I'd not meant to admit that out loud. Setting his fork down he smiled at me, reassuring me.

"Some girls do it purely for the money. Some because they like to dance. In my experience, the best dancers do it because they love to show off. If they get turned on while they, do it, that shows in their dancing. The money helps, of course."

Amy was looking out of the window as Harry dropped me off in his Jaguar and bombarded me with questions for what felt like hours. What was the club like, were the other girls nice, were they sexy? Where had I stayed last night, and so on? I tried to downplay how much I'd enjoyed it, but I don't think she bought it.

That night Harry drove me back to the club and I was the last to arrive at 8:15 pm. Stripping off in front of a room full of near strangers, while they talked about boyfriend problems and rent money. And then slipping into slutty schoolgirl uniforms was bizarre.

This time when we entered the club it was noticeably busier. I spotted a few women this time. Wives and girlfriends, I assumed. The first set went off without a hitch, although I did notice the larger number brought the crowd closer to my podium.

Unlike the previous night, much of the crowd was younger fitter men. The footballers I thought and made an extra effort to let them see up my skirt or flash my panties to them. To be fair I wasn't the only one to play it up. I was certain I saw Beth flash her tits at one point.

As we piled back into the dressing room it was noticeable that we were all more energised than last night. We started to peel off our clothing and Beth handed out our new outfits. Small shorts and a tight t-shirt in one of the team's colours with a number on our chests that meant nothing to me. I remembered Harry's comment about under-boob, so I assumed there was no bra. For me and Beth that was more of an issue as we had the bigger boobs.

Beth stood in front of me with scissors in hand.

"Put the shirt on, I need to see where to cut it." The shirt was tight and squashed my boobs a bit. "OK, now wake up the girls." She instructed and I looked blankly at her.

"Like this." She said and put the scissors between her teeth, then shocked me by grabbing and squeezing my boobs.

I squealed in surprise and the others laughed. Kate explained.

"She just needs to know where your nipples are. However, she doesn't have to be so hands-on."

"I can do it." I offer, stepping back.

"No need, there they are." It was embarrassing to find my nipples had leapt to attention from a girl touching me.

Beth cut up from the bottom of the shirt, and across under each breast. It felt like my tits were just hanging out for everyone to see.

"Jesus Beth. It's that too short? If I move, they'll pop out." To demonstrate I lifted my arms over my head and both breasts popped into view. Kate replied, holding up a roll of something.

"You're missing our secret ingredient." She tossed the roll to Beth.

"Double-sided tape. Let the suckers think they're gonna see something when they're not. Pull the shirt all the way up."

She cut off a piece of tape about 5 inches long and carefully placed it to the bottom end just covering my nipple, and the rest went up and over the upper part of my breast. Repeating it on the other side, she peeled off the second layer of tape to reveal the sticky side and pulled down the shirt.

I'm sure she didn't need to hold the t-shirt in place on my tits for as long as she claimed.

"Ok, now raise your arms." She instructed. This time the shirt stayed in place, although I did feel the tape pulling on my flesh. And especially over my nipples. The glue seemed to tug at them in a not unpleasant way. I just wished I'd waited until they'd gone down, at the moment it felt like they were stuck erect until I took the tape off.

As the other girls applied the tape, I looked at the shorts, to realise they weren't shorts but French knickers. Loose and fringed with lace, in the team colours of course. But split up the side to the waistband. If I turned too quickly in this anyone close would see more than they should.

As I finished dressing, I saw the other girls, except Beth, had applied their tape so it didn't cover their nipples. I wondered if Beth had done it to me as the new girl, but if so, why had she put the tape over hers?

Thoughts of that were pushed aside I thought about the next set. Dancing on the podium in knickers with my under-boob on display was making me excited and I prayed the dark material of the shorts would hide any damp patch that might form.

This time as we were led out, we got a huge round of applause and cheering. Along with some good-natured booing from the other team's players. The security guy who helped me onto my podium touched my bum to steady me, but I was fairly sure it was an accident.

I struggle to remember the set as almost all of my arm and shoulder movements tugged on the tape. And therefore, my nipples. It was almost like I was playing with myself in public. The loose legs of the shorts didn't help, they flapped about and I could feel the air on my pussy the entire time. It almost felt like I was dancing bottomless. That and having my audience standing only four or five feet from me and looking up didn't help my state of mind.

I was grateful when it was over. However, we had a surprise in store. Mr Vincent wanted us to go through the crowd so they could take selfies with us. We were reassured a bouncer would make sure nothing untoward happened.

For the next ten minutes, I was blinded by flashes going off and had a dozen or more men try to cop a feel. Although the security guys stopped that quickly. However, not before my bum had been squeezed by every guy I was near. Kate saw this and just rolled her eyes and shrugged.

It wasn't until I was heading back to the dressing room did, I realise I'd be all over the internet by morning. Perhaps it was the high of performing or just I was turned on, but that didn't seem like such a bad thing.

I could see the buzz of excitement from the other girls as we started to change into our regular clothes. Kate spotted me slipping off the French knickers and exclaimed.

"Gwen, where's your thong?"

"What thong, this was all I was given."

"Whoops!" Exclaimed Beth with a grin.

"Jesus Beth, what a nasty thing to do." Tina countered.

"What?" Beth snatched up my knickers as I pulled on my own knickers and jeans. "Look!" She exclaimed and to my horror, she showed the damp patch to the others. "She loved it."

"You're such a fucking bitch Beth. How would you like that? When you've just started as well." Kate replied and the other joined in castigating Beth.

I pulled on my jeans and regular shoes, leaving on the football shirt. I assumed as it had been cut to fit me, nobody wanted it back and I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Suddenly I heard Beth squeal.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, that hurt." Someone, I don't know who, had gripped the tape on one of Beth's tits and yanked it off in a single pull. Leaving a red mark.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door as we all froze.

"Is everything alright in there? I heard raised voices." It was Harry, and an instant later he stepped inside.

I was fully dressed, the others still had on their costumes, except for Beth who was only in a thong. Kate explained what happened and Harry looked grim.

"I've had enough shit from you, Beth. One more thing and we're done. I'm I clear?" She looked ready to argue but nodded curtly. Turning to me he asked. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." I replied putting on my shoes and snatching the damp knickers off Beth and stuffed them into my pocket.

Mr Vincent walked in without knocking and Beth casually slipped her football shirt back on.

"Ladies I wonder if I can interest you in a little after party show?"

I saw Kate look at me and give me a subtle shake of her head. I wondered what that was about.

Only Tina and Beth agreed to stay, but Mr Vincent didn't look displeased. Once the trio left, Kate came over.

"If you object to getting your bum touched up, then an after party is not for you."

"Why, what goes on?"

"I've not done one myself, but Tina told me about them. Usually there is more dancing and a striptease. Then a little girl on girl action and sometimes a secret auction." I look confused so she explains. "Guys put some cash in envelopes with their name on it and whoever has the most money in the envelope get a blow job or a fuck from one of the girls. Usually, it's Tina as she always seems to need the cash. They split all the cash 60/40."

"And that she's considering doing porn." I added and Kate nodded with a shrugged.

Harry waggled his car keys at me, and I grabbed my coat and say goodbye to the girls. I was out of the changing room door when Kate called out after me.

"Gwen, don't leave it too long to remove that tape and wash off the glue. I forgot once and found myself stuck to my boyfriend."

Harry's Jaguar ate up the miles speeding up home on the deserted late-night roads. I could tell Harry was annoyed and we drove in silence most of the way.

"Sorry about Beth, she's been a pain in my arse since I hired her. I should kick her to the curb."

"Don't do that because of me." I blurted. I didn't want her fired for giving me the chance to almost fulfil my fantasy.

"And I'm sorry about the photo thing. Vinnie should have told me so I could have checked with you first."

"It's OK Harry. I'm sure they'll be all over the internet tomorrow, but I've seen worse. When were you going to tell me about the after party?"

Harry didn't answer right away, then glanced over to see if I'm annoyed. "I'm just curious."

"Firstly, they don't happen all of the time. But I should have realised Vinnie would want something extra on a special night. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to scare you off. To be honest, I was 50/50 that you chicken out on me. Instead, you were a real professional. You should have heard the comments about you."

"I can imagine." Shifting to a blokey thick voice I added. "See that one there? I'd love to do her."

Harry laughed. "OK, there may have been a few like that. But I overheard a couple of the wives admiring your beauty and grace. Both of them were former international models. So, they know what they're talking about." That was a nice stroke for my ego!

"Usually, my girls have to wait until Vinnie pays me, but I figure as this was a one off, you'd want the cash right away. If we stop off at my place, I can grab the cash I owe you. Then I'll whisk you straight home."

"Or we stop off at your place, and you can let me have some more of that yummy wine."

He looks at me strangely and nods.

"I can give you a couple of bottles to take home if you like."

Looking out of the side window I remember Kate's advice and reach into my coat and under the football shirt. Trying surreptitiously to peel off the sticky take without much luck.

"You, OK?" He asks, finally noticing I'm up to something.

"I've still got that double-sided tape on and seeing how sore it was when someone ripped it off Beth. I'm trying to peel it off a little at a time and it's not working."

"Best bet is in the shower with lots of soap. Just don't ask me how I know that."

At Harry's, he pours me a huge glass of wine and suggests I shower while he opens his safe for the cash. Taking the wine with me, I strip off in the bathroom and step into the shower.

It takes more than ten painful minutes to tease and soap the tape off, and another ten to remove the residue of the glue. Although at the end I realise I'm just playing with my nipples. The glue had washed away ages ago.

I'm extremely turned on and if I was at home I'd make use of the shower to masturbate. Unfortunately, I've never been one for quiet orgasms, a major problem when I lived at home. And the idea of Harry hearing me cum through the door is disturbing. Disturbing as I found the idea exciting. Instead, I turned the shower cold and shocked my senses some way back to normality.

Dressing in a jumper, jeans, a rather utilitarian bra and panties I find Harry in the kitchen. He has a glass of whisky in one and gestures to a stack of £20 notes.

"I've paid £360, call it a first-time bonus or a fee for dealing with Beth's crap."

"Thanks, Uncle Harry." I pocket the money without counting it.

"I see the uncle is back, Baby-girl." The childish nickname doesn't seem so childish now. It sounds more like an intimate name between lovers.

"What's your next gig?" I ask, topping up my wine.

"I don't think that's for you Gwennie."

"Why not? I thought I did OK."

"More than ok, but it's a different type of audience. More adult."

"Some there's nudity?" I ask, trying to keep the tremble from my voice.

"No, but also yes."

"Vague much Harry?"

"Fine, you asked for it. Don't blame me if it's too much for you. It's Leather and Latex. More of a bondage theme." My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to play it cool.

"Like what?" I was genuinely excited.

He pulls out his phone, and I come around the kitchen island to stand next to him. Moments later he shows me a photo of a girl on a podium. She's wearing an orange figure-hugging bodysuit. It covers her from ankles to neck, with long sleeves.

However, covering is an exaggeration. The suit is translucent, allowing you to see nearly all of her body. A spasm of excitement jolts through me, and I cover it with a fake gasp of surprise.

"I hold you." Harry adds.

When I say you can see all of the girl, you cannot see her face as she's wearing a mask and her nipples are covered with an 'X' of black tape, along with an 'I' over her vagina.

He flips to another shot, but the girl is partially obscured with other people in the foreground.

"I've got some better shots somewhere." As Harry searches on his phone, I realise I've been pressing myself up against him. Moving away just a little to try to think.

"Here you go." He shows his phone and I recognise the basement studio immediately.

I can also recognise the woman in the same bodysuit. It's Beth and unlike the previous photos, there is no modesty tape over her nipples or pussy. The first photo is just her standing facing the camera, and the next two are front and side. A bit like mugshot photos.

Harry flicks past them too fast, and the next one shows Beth in a dance pose. Harry hands me the phone and takes his empty glass to refill it. Giving me a chance to go back to the first and zoom in a little.

Having seen Beth's boobs in person, seeming them squashed in the latex had me intrigued as to how it felt. To be squeezed in all directions at once must be interesting. Moving lower I spotted that Beth was shaved. I'd tried not to peek at the others as they changed, it would be a bit weird if I did.

However, it was hard to make out any details through the latex. Flicking through the others, I found more of her dancing, pouting, and presenting her boobs to the camera and her arse. Then the photos became a little more intimate. A close up of her breasts and her very obviously hard nipples. I flicked back to the first and in that, they hardly stood up at all.

Then to the next to see a close up of her vagina. It was a bit of a shock, but all you could really see is the split of her labia. Everything else was hidden. Until the next shot, and I should have expected it.

It showed Beth from the back and bending over and with the legs spread. Everything was there. Her puffy labia, you could see her clit poking from its hood and even a hint of her opening. I've never been into women, but that shot did something to me. I wanted to be that person; I wanted to show off like that with her confidence.

Looking at Harry pouring his whisky, I wondered how freaked out he'd be if I asked for a copy of these shots.

The next shot showed Beth laughing, and the next showed her off her podium, kneeling on the floor in front of the cameraman. Her lips were slightly parted with a sexy expression of 'give me your cock'.

Opening the next photo, I nearly dropped Harry's phone. The cock she'd be apparently asking for was there in her mouth. It was thick and I realised it had to be Harry's. Why else would he have these photos on his phone? Looking up, I saw Harry coming back and I hurriedly flicked back to an earlier photo and hoped I wasn't blushing too much.

Harry spotted something about me but took it another way.

"Too much for you? I tried to warn you." He took the phone and slid it into his pocket.

"It's not that it's just..."

"What?"

"I've always wondered what one of those bodysuits would feel like to wear. Do you have any here? And could I try one on?" I tried not to sound too interested, but I don't think I pulled it off.

"I've dozens of the things in the basement. You can only wear them once or twice. Are you sure"

"I'm not promising to do your next gig, but I'd love to see how it feels in one, and how I'd look."

"And would I get the chance to see that as well?" Was Harry flirting with me?

"I reserve judgement."

"Give me a minute." He disappeared downstairs, and I was torn between making a dash for the door and shoving my hand down the front of my knickers.

He returned in a few minutes and tossed me a plastic bag containing a purple bodysuit similar to what I'd seen on Beth. I rushed to the bathroom, ignoring the other items he's brought up.

"If you need help let me know." He called to the closing door.

"OK 'Uncle' Harry." I emphasised the uncle and I heard him chuckle.

Stripping down to my bra and panties I paused. Was I ready for Harry to see me naked? Or more truthfully was he ready to see me. He had no idea of my fantasy for being exposed or how long I'd had it. Realistically his involvement was almost incidental.

Deciding to keep my underwear on rather, I started to tug one of the legs on and failed almost instantly. I managed to get it up to one knee, but the ankle of the bodysuit was at least a foot off my leg. Sitting on the side of the bath, I tried again and admitted defeat.

"Harry, can you help?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah." He'd seen me in my bra yesterday and in panties on stage.

He was grinning as he saw my pathetic attempt.

"Sorry, I knew you'd fail. You need lube of some sort. Either baby powder or baby oil.

The oil makes it extra slippery, but I've been told whilst you dance it can ride up and give you a wedgie. I suggest the baby powder but don't mix the two. If you're not careful it can look like you're covered in cum."

Harry tugged off the bodysuit then gathered up the arm and leg holes and held them shut as he sprinkled a generous amount of powder down each leg, arm and inside the body. Closing the neck up he shook the suit vigorously. Causing me to chuckle.

"Are you planning on keeping your underwear on?"

"Why? Hoping to see me nude?" I really wanted to know the answer to that.

"Hoping to yes, expecting to, no. I bought up the tape to hide the good bits. But if you want the modesty of underwear, that's up to you." Something about the way he said it made me think he was concealing something else.

With me sitting on the edge of the bath he knelt at my feet and gathered up the latex leg. So less of it touched my skin and forced the latex over my skin. With one ankle in place, he repeated it and worked it up my legs. I was standing now with my crotch at his eye level, and I regretted my choice of boring panties.

It was hard to grip the latex, and we both had baby powder all over our hands as we pinched and tweeted the latex up and over my crotch. It was impossible for Harry not to have touched me as we did this. His hands brushed the inside of my thighs, over the front of my panties and my bottom many times as the latex got harder to move.

Both of us knew that not all of his touches were necessary, but I didn't care. I didn't even care if he spotted how excited I was.

As the suit got up to my ribs, I understood why Harry had queried the choice of leaving my underwear. Despite the powder, the latex gripped my panties and was dragging them higher. I'm sure if I looked, I'd have a massive camel toe in front and a wedgie in the back.

"Ok Harry stop, you were right I'll try it without the underwear. Can you leave me to do it, now I know what to do?"

Taking a lingering look as he left, I found the modesty tape, and it looked like a basic black tape used by electricians. Pulling the cat suit down was almost as hard as up and once I exposed my underwear I changed tack.

I'd never get the legs off and on again by myself, and this underwear was elderly. So, I found some nail scissors in the bathroom cupboard and skipped the waistband on either side. Then tore the rest off. Dropping them in the bin.

"You ok in there?" Harry called, obviously curious at the tearing sound. I reassured him and tore off a strip of tape. Unlike Beth, I still had pubes, if only short blond ones. Which was one of the reasons why I was struggling to get the tape to stick.

The other reason was that as I placed it lower over my labia, my juices refused any purchase. Each time I wiped with toilet paper and tried again more juices would leak. After several minutes I figured, the tape wouldn't need to stick too much once the latex held it in place. Wiping, sticking and yanking up the suit, I'm fairly certain I was covered, but I didn't want to wiggle too much to find out. It's not exactly a position where I can easily see myself.

I was hesitant to apply more tape over my nipples after the experience of the other tape, but this was far less sticky. Slipping off my bra and as expected my nipples were hard and proud. Applying the tape and hauling up the suit seemed more like a vigorous workout than getting dressed. I was sweating as I managed to get my arms into the sleeves and the suit was finally in place.

It felt very strange having pressure on my body in almost all directions at once. Twisting and stretching experimentally, I felt the suit shift slightly, moving into place. Looking in the mirror, I saw the purple of the suit was less noticeable as the latex was stretched over my boobs. My 'C' cup boobs were squashed but still looked good.

I noticed the tape over one nipple had moved a little and I tried to reach inside the suit to sort it out but gave up almost instantly. The suit was just too tight. Besides, Harry might not notice the hint of exposed areola. Of course he'd notice I corrected with a smile.

A new thought popped into my head. How was I going to get out of this? I'd barely got it on without Harry's help, I'd never get it off alone. Perhaps that was his plan, but then I remembered I'd been the one to insist on trying it on. Of course, it didn't mean he wouldn't take advantage of the situation to help me take it off. I'd be left wearing about 8 inches of black tape. He'd love that. Who am I kidding he'd not be the only one.

At this rate I'd have to worry about the puddle of my juices building up at my crotch. Looking into the mirror again I noticed the suit looked dull and smeared with baby powder.

"Harry, what do I do about the excess baby powder?"

"Use some wadded toilet paper to wipe it off. Then you could put a little baby oil on a wad of toilet paper and wipe yourself down."

By the time I was finished the cat suit gleamed, almost like liquid. I don't think I've ever felt so sexy. Stepping from the room I needed to see Harry's reaction. And it was perfect. Shock, awe and a great deal of lust.

"Fuck me Baby-girl. I tell a lot of girls they're good looking, but you knock them for six. Stunning. How does it feel?"

"I just wish I could see myself properly. The bathroom mirror is too small to get the full effect."

I gave him a twirl, realising my bottom is fully exposed.

"There is a full-length mirror in my bedroom, or..." He pauses and scratches his cheek. "Or I could take a few photos, so you have a permanent record. And that way if you did decide to perform at one of the other types of gigs, I'd already have your photos on file."

The idea of Harry with a file full of pictures of girls in skimpy, sexy costumes, or as exposed as this is a rush. I wondered if he ever looks at them and touched himself. I wondered if he'd do that if the photos were of me. I kind of hoped he would. I wondered what his cock looked like.

Suddenly I remembered the picture on his phone of her sucking his cock. Perhaps I might get a chance to find out.

"Really? "I asked. "You'd like to take some pictures like the ones of Beth?" He missed my trap and nodded vigorously.

Running to the bathroom to get my wine glass, I return to see him with his whisky in one hand and my bottle of wine in the other. Following him to the basement and into the studio.

Harry flicked on the lights, and I hesitate for a moment before jumping on the low podium. Did I really want this? The answer was instant and a definite yes. In the past I'd been very careful about not letting boyfriends snap naughty pictures of me. Too easy to resurface years later somewhere. After tonight that seemed a fool's errand.

The lights are already on in his studio, and I jump onto the podium as Harry turns on some music to dance to. I was already moving, enjoying the new sensation of strange pressure on my body as I moved. Regardless of how this turned out, I'll order some of these as soon as I've sorted out my finances.

Harry is taking photos with a still camera; after turning on a video camera and I try to work in some of the dance moves we'd used at the club, and some of the sexy moves Beth had done in her photoshoot.

Running my hands over my flesh, the baby oil making it slippery as my finger passed over my sensitive nipples as Harry watched. I wanted more and dropped one hand to discover I could feel the little bump of my clit trying to escape. But it was almost like wearing a full-body condom. And I couldn't get the effect I wanted.

I could see Harry was hard, and I deliberately bent at the waist with my back to him and my legs spread. I've no idea if I'm showing as much as she did, but it felt like it. Turning back to face him I ask.

"So, Harry did you ask Beth for a blow job or did she just offer?"

Harry lowered his camera and exclaimed.

"Fuck! I thought I'd deleted those off the camera."

"Well?"

"She offered and well, at that point, I couldn't say no." I wanted to ask if it went further, but I didn't want to think of Beth and Harry.

"This suit feels amazing; it seems to almost generate its own heat. Come here and feel for yourself."

Harry put the camera down and placed one hand on my hip, obviously playing it safe.

"No here, Harry." I pulled his hand up to my breast and the moment it made contact the other swooped in.

His hands were all over my breasts and it felt wonderful, but I wanted more.

"I wish there was a zip in this thing. I want more, can you cut the suit off or something?"

"Stand still." He ordered and brought something from his pocket.

With one hand holding my breast he did something that went snick underneath. Then I realised that was probably the only place on the suit where the latex wasn't in contact with my skin. As he moved to the other breast, I saw it was his cigar cutter. Snick.

"There are two holes you can hook your finger in and pull the latex until it gives."

"I want you to do it. To feel your strong hands tearing it off my body."

Harry doesn't need to be told twice. His thumbs slide inside and across the underside of my tits. Then gathering his strength, he pulls and stretches the latex past its breaking point. Suddenly my breasts bounce free. The modesty tape vanishes with the latex and Harry was on me again. And I love it.

His hands, his mouth and tongue. I'm sure all he can taste is sweat and baby powder, but it doesn't diminish his enthusiasm.

"Harry, I want more. Will those snippers work lower down?" His hand dropped and

"Not if you don't want to risk losing something."

Gripping the torn cat suit near the armpits, he pulled and I struggled to free my shoulders and arms. Working together to push and pull the latex down my body.

"They don't show this in the movies." Harry commented and I giggled despite myself.

Once my buttocks are mostly uncovered Harry told me to sit on the podium and he gave a hard tug. Dropping me onto the floor. Laughing I clambered up and lay back, gripping the edge of the podium. This time Harry gets the latex down and completely off me.

"Thank fuck for that. You are definitely good enough to eat." To match his words to his actions he launched himself at me.

Latching his mouth over my pussy and worming a finger inside. There are no worries that I'm not ready, His finger slips in embarrassingly easily, but I don't care about that. Harry has skills and I'm already on the point of cumming.

Far faster than usual I'm squirming on the platform panting and then let out a loud series of grunts and my body shudders through a massive orgasm. Harry sat back with my juices and a smile on his face.

Surprisingly energised instead of lethargic post-orgasm, I sat up and reached for his belt. Harry stood to make it easier, and I tugged his trousers and underpants down and got a moment's doubt.

No doubt that I want to do this, only doubt that I'm able to. This close and in person Harry's member is thicker than any I've seen before. Not abnormal, just bigger. Glancing up I can see an expression of disbelief on his face.

"What's the matter, godfather? Never thought you would see this." I kissed the tip.

"God, don't do the Baby-girl. Not right now."

"Why, I kinda like it." I reply and take his head into my mouth.

I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Figuratively, at least. It filled my mouth and I'm not sure how much further I can go.

Using one hand on the shaft and another to feel the wiry hair on his balls, I sucked the tip and bobbed my head. However, I had to stop.

"Sorry Harry, I've baby oil all over my hands and it tastes fucking horrible when I get it into my mouth. Can we get a shower and I promise I'll continue."

For an older man, Harry has a good turn of speed as we rushed upstairs. Instead of stopping in the hall bathroom we got to his ensuite and Harry seemed to be stripping off his shirt and shoes whilst turning on the shower.

In moments we're under the hot water and in each other's arms. Kissing and exploring the other's body. Soon I feel Harry soaping my back and down to caress my buttocks, but I want more. Turning my back to Harry, he got the idea immediately bringing his soap hands to my breasts again.

Much as I enjoyed it, I wanted Harry to keep going. Pulling one hand down, his fingers explore my labia and gently strum my clit. But I want to cum again, and dropped to my knees and soaped Harry junior, marvelling that I can't get my finger and thumb to enclose the shaft.

Leaning in, I kiss the tip and spit it out. "Still soapy." I complain and he redirected the showerhead to rinse it off.

Before I can try again, Harry pulled me to my feet, and we spend a mere second rubbing each other with a towel and rush into the bedroom. My hair was dripping but I don't care as I throw myself onto the bed and Harry clambered on top.

Taking the tip and guiding it to my opening, I had doubts again, but I'd underplayed how wet I was. The head seemed enormous as it pushed inside and I begged Harry to be gentle.

At this point, I discovered the advantages of an older lover. A lifetime of experience of pleasing women and more of a marathon runner than a sprint. Too many of my lovers seemed to try to sprint to the finish instead of settling in for a long run.

At first, I thought Harry's pace was too slow, compared to what I was used to, but in minutes I adjusted to it and felt the stirrings of another climax coming. I had no compunction to think this was love here. This was fucking plain and simple. And if anything, all the better. No emotional baggage, just amazing fucking.

I was getting close and moving around more. Harry picked up the pace and hit a sweet spot, and it triggered about the strongest orgasm I've ever had. I was vaguely aware of Harry grunting as he pumped his cum inside me.

Feeling both our hearts facing as we calmed down, I watched the sweat on Harry's forehead and kissed him gently, before his deflating cock slipped from me. Leaving me a horrible empty sensation.

Rolling onto my side, Harry slipped behind me and pulled up the duvet, and we fell into a deeply satisfied sleep.

When I awoke, I was disoriented for a minute. Then it came back, all of it, and surprisingly there was no guilt. Sleeping with a man twice my age. Sleeping with a guy I'd no romantic relationship with. Sleeping with my godfather and I suppose in some way my boss. All of which were things I'd normally be mortified about. But today they meant nothing.

Doing something so wild and out of character broke the mould of my mild-mannered accountant.

"Harry are you awake"

"Yes, Baby-girl." The name was growing on me as our intimate name together.

"I want to do it on Friday. The dancing, that is."

"I guessed as much given how you reacted last night. It's further away, but better money."

"I do have a couple of conditions."

"I'm scared to ask, go on."

"First after I do it, we come back here and I get a chance to use that magnificent cock of yours."

"That's a hard bargain, but I suppose I could manage that." I chuckled at the fake hardship he put in his voice. "And second?"

I rolled over to look at him as this was important.

"This is just sex. I'm not looking for a relationship, or looking to move in. I don't want special favours or preferential treatment. You've shown me something deeper and darker about myself, and I want to explore it.

"When it's over it's over. Either of us can call it quits at any point and no repercussions. Right?"

"That's very mature of you Gwennie. And I agree, but I know I'm getting more out of this than you."

"You're underestimating Harry junior and your partnership."

"Well, we're free at the moment."

I slipped a hand down to find him hard and slipped under the duvet. Taking him into my mouth, the smell and taste are unappealing until I remember it's the taste of our mixed cum. Then I enjoy it.

But it's hot and stuffy under the duvet and I want it back inside where it belongs. Coming up for air I asked him.

"Harry, will you do me doggy style?"

"Gladly, Baby-girl."

He jumped up and guided me to the edge of the bed.

"Let me check the portal is open and ready for business." He said and I readied myself.

Harry grasped my buttocks and pulled them apart. Wait, no that's not what I want. Then I feel his tongue slip past my open labia and probe my core. I chuckled.

"What?"

"Sorry, when you pulled my buttocks open like that, I thought you were planning butt stuff. And to be honest it'll take a while to get used to your size in the regular way without that." Harry chuckled in return.

"Can you hold yourself open like this?" Putting my head and shoulders on the bed, I reached back and stretch my labia open and feel his tip probing my entrance.

Finding little resistance, he pushed deeper until he's buried deep.

"Definitely need more practice." I groaned.

"I'm definitely up for that."

As with last night, Harry knows what he's doing. I know I said we'd end this the moment either of us said. But right now, I don't see me wanting that for a long time to come.

The End

[Please take a moment to vote and comment if you enjoyed this story.

I originally wrote this in June 2018, about 6 months after the 1st part of 'A Solution to Money Troubles'. I originally thought it was too similar, and I didn't think I'd finish it.]