by Reed James
I was so drunk on her, on the music pounding through our living room, and on the dance. Hula moved through me as the passion built in my pussy. My ovaries ached, my cum eager to burst out of my cock as we danced towards the climax of the song.
My feet moved through the steps of the dance while the pleasure surged through my body. Her pussy felt amazing on my dick. Her pussy moved around my shaft, sliding, caressing, squeezing. She was so hot. So tight. So amazing.
“Oh, Haunani,” I panted, squeezing her tits harder.
“Uh-huh,” she moaned, trembling in my arms. “Kaulana!”
The beat of the drums reached their crescendo as she came on my dick. Her pussy went wild about my shaft, milking it. I groaned, the rippling friction shooting delight right to the core of my cunt. The pressure swelled in me as she groaned and gasped in rapture, trembling and heaving in my arms.
I held her tight, my dick aching in the convulsing depths of her pussy. My own cunt clenched, juices pouring down my thighs. And then it happened. That wonderful moment of release. My back arched, my tits rubbing into her back.
My cum firing into her pussy.
Powerful blasts convulsed my body as my futa-jizz pumped into her pussy. I gasped with her, my nipple throbbing against her supple skin. I held her tight as the rapture attacked my mind. Dizzy delight washed over me. I groaned and gasped, swaying and shuddering.
“My Haunani,” I groaned.
“My naughty i'iwi,” she panted, her orgasm peaking in her. She slumped back into my embrace. “Oh, you are just so delicious.”
“So is your nectar,” I groaned, blinking, the song ending. I stared over her shoulder and then giggled.
“What?” she asked, her voice throaty. “What, Kaulana?”
“Look at the TV.”
She did, blinking at our flat screen right before us. It was streaked in dribbling, white cum. “Oh, no.”
“You gave the TV a facial.” My giggles turned into full laughter. I shuddered, my dick still throbbing in her pussy, my breasts rubbing on her back.
“I did,” she laughed. “But the TV's such a slut. She was just begging for it.”
“Mmm, I bet she was,” I purred, my hand moving down from her breasts to grasp her cock. I squeezed her girl-dick, sliding my hand up and down it. I squeezed out the last drops of her cum. It dribbled hot over my hand. “Love you.”
“Mmm,” she just purred, trembling in my embrace.
And then the next song started up, quiet thudding beat that caused our hips swaying. We had more practicing to do. My hand stroked up and down her dick, her pussy clenching on my cock. She was so hot and sloppy now, full of my cum.
And then my phone rang.
I groaned, pulling away from her body, ignoring the beat of the drum. My cock came out of her depths, glistening with her juices. It bounced before me, my grass skirt rustling, as I rushed to my phone sitting on the kitchen counter, plugged into the wall beside hers. I snatched it up and answered.
“Passionate Hula Girls, this is Kaulana speaking,” I said, my stomach tightening. No one called me but prospective clients.
And those rarely did.
“Hey,” said the cheery voice of at the other end. “I'm Becky down at the Honolulu Hilton, and we want to book you for a show next Friday night.”
I blinked. A hotel. “And you know it's an eighteen and over show, right?”
“Yes, you practice hula in the traditional way,” Becky said. “We find that fascinating. And we are sure some of our guests would as well.”
“Well, okay,” I said. “We charge...” I hesitated. “$500 for a gig.”
“Absolutely,” Becky said. “I'll email you the contract. If you can look it over and fax it back to us with your signature, we'll be all set.”
“Yes!” My heart pounded. I gave my email address. “Thank you. We will be so happy to perform.”
I glanced at Haunani, her hand stroking her golden-brown futa-dick thrusting through her grass skirts, her round breasts heaving in delight. She mouthed, “Gig?”
I nodded.
“Excellent,” Becky said. “We look forward to seeing you perform. And if you have any questions, my number is on the contract. Do not hesitate to give me a call.”
“I won't. Thanks. Bye.”
The line went dead. I lowered my phone. “We just made rent.”
Haunani bounced in excitement, which did all sorts of interesting things to her breasts and cock, her skirt rustling. I groaned, setting down my phone, a growing smile on my lips as I walked back to my girlfriend.
I knew just how to celebrate.
* * *
I was hoping doing a show for a hotel would be our big break into doing this professionally. If the hotel's customers loved it, and why wouldn't they since we were topless and had great tits, this would cause other venues around Honolulu to hirer us. If we could get our more adult version of hula accepted, we might even get out to Las Vegas.
A place that would have no problem with our act.
Which was great. I was finding stripping almost nauseating now that I was a futa. I didn't mind it before, even though I was a lesbian, but now the idea of guys ogling me, and worse, having to touch them and give them lap dances, just sickening. But we still had to eat and pay our bills.
So I had high hopes tonight. This performance had to be a big hit.
So we practiced hard. We worked our butts off over the next week to make sure our dancing was perfect. We wouldn't be performing for horny futas this time. There wouldn't be any orgy breaking out before we'd even got started.
So we could afford no mistakes.
But Haunani was great. She was skilled. And she was as hungry for this opportunity as I was.
The day of our performance had finally arrived. We started with our trip into the forest to pick flowers for our leis, including the leip'o worn on our heads like crowns, and the kupe'e worn on wrists and ankles. I always went with the orange kou flower while Haunani preferred the purple littlebells flowers. Our leis made, we headed to the hotel for our 9 PM performance, excited as ever.
Becky met us when we walked in, a bubbly blonde with a bright smile. She led us into the back and showed us to our changing room. She said the guests seemed very receptive to our sultry dancing, and the lounge was already filling up. She then handed over our check for $500 and wished us luck.
We donned our grass skirts and leis, wearing nothing else. I pushed back my black hair, letting it fall down my back, and smiled in the changing room's mirror at my busty tits, the necklace leis falling right over my nipples. For the moment, I was modest. But the moment my hips were swaying and my breasts were jiggling, my nipples would be flashing.
I hoped there were plenty of women in the crowd. I was an exhibitionist before I became a futa. And my transformation had only enhanced that desire in me.
“God, I am so wet,” Haunani groaned, coming up beside me, looking just breathtaking in her purple littlebells, her nipple peeking out through the petals. “And my clit... It's going to be hard to keep it under control.”
I nodded my head. “We can't let them sprout. That might not go over well.”
“Well, we got through stripping without that being an issue.” Haunani leaned in. “If you're feeling horny, just remember there'll be guys, too.”
That cut through the tingle of my clit. “Yeah, guys will put a damper on the fun, won't they?”
“Don't they always,” she laughed.
There was a knock at the door.
“Enter,” I shouted.
Becky opened it, peeking in. Then she blinked, her cheeks growing crimson. “Oh, my, you two are just gorgeous.”
We smiled, both of us striking poses, our skirts rustling, our leis swaying. My nipples savored the soft feel of the petals caressing them. The flowers' sweet perfume filled my nose, my clit tingling more and more as the blonde drank in the sight of us.
“Well,” she said, blinking and shaking her head, coming out of a daze. “
It's time to start. Your CD is in the sound system. As soon as you're on stage, it'll start playing.”
Once we were big enough, we'd higher our own drummers. But until then, our CD was great. “Okay,” I said. “We're ready.”
“Then let's go,” Becky said.
We swayed to her with all the grace of futa-hula-girls. Her jaw almost dropped and her tongue almost dangled before her like a guy staring at two hot girls. Well, we were two hot futas, and Becky was feeling it. Maybe we'd have fun with her after the show.
It was a short walk to the stage in the lounge. It wasn't a big stage. There was a dark curtain before us. I took a nervous breath. “This is it.”
“We're going to kickass,” Haunani grinned at me.
I grinned back. “Yes, we are.”
The curtains came up. Lights shone at me, dazzling me. I shuddered, moving forward, hearing the subtle beat of our drums starting up. My feet already itched to dance on the waxed floor of the stage as I faced the crowd.
They were all dark shapes with the light in my eyes, sitting around small tables. Polite applause rippled through the room as we stood before them, looking so sexy and hot, our hips swaying with subtle movements, the leis shaking.
“Good evening!” I said with perky enthusiasm. I stripped on stage before a hundred horny guys. I didn't have to be afraid. “We're Passionate Hula, and we love dancing in the old ways.”
“Topless!” Haunani added. “Giving thanks to the goddess Laka and remembering her through our movements.”
“Hula is sacred. It is life, in all of its forms. It is a celebration of living, of fertility, of passion.”
“Enjoy,” Haunani said, the beat of the ipu heke picking up. “As we give thanks to the feminine beauty Laka has given us.”
And Aphrodite, I wanted to add.
Like with the futas several weeks ago, we started with a dance that celebrated love-making. The passionate, symbolically fucking on stage, normally performed between a man and woman. We danced around each other, our pace slow, circling, our hips swaying. The leis danced over my breasts, flashing the audiences with peaks of my nipples, hard and excited.
My grass skirts rustled as my feet and body moved. The beat of the drums grew faster and faster, the building passion between us. We came closer and closer as we danced, staring into each other's eyes. Her purple leis bounced over her rolling breasts, her nipples flashing at me. Her belly undulated and writhed as she moved, our arms rising up into the air.
Closer and closer, hips moving in unison, undulating, rolling in mimicry of fucking. My clit ached and throbbed. My pussy grew wetter and wetter. Passion slicked my thighs, adding a spicy musk to the sweet perfume of my kou flowers.
I could feel the crowd watching us. Their attention was rapt. They were almost holding their breaths as they felt the eroticism building between Haunani and myself. We danced closer and closer, almost touching, our breasts inches apart as they heaved and bounced.
So close, our leis brushed each other as we moved. As we symbolic fucked before them.
It was so hard to control my clit. It wanted to sprout, to brush her grass skirt. I wanted to fuck her for real. I wanted to show the crowd the passion of Aphrodite. My thighs grew slicker and slicker. My pussy was on fire.
My leis rustled, petting my nipples, sending delight down to my pussy. To my clit. It swelled an inch before I could stop it. My hips swayed faster and faster, wiggling now with such grace, the audience enraptured.
“I want to fuck you,” mouthed Haunani.
“I want to bend you over and ram my girl-cock right into your cunt,” I mouthed back, my cheeks on fire.
Her eyes smoldered. We pressed our bodies together. Our leis crushed. Her nipples kissed mine. Grass skirts rustled together. It was so hard not to let my dick out. Not to ram home into her pussy right now.
The drums peaked.
Died.
The crowd burst into applause, men wolf-whistling, as I stood panting, feeling the rise and fall of my girlfriend's tits, my heart racing in my chest. She gave me such a wicked smile and winked at me before we broke apart.
We turned to the crowd, my pussy on fire. My poor clit, grown another itch, brushed the grass of my skirt, sending tingling delight rushing through me. We gave a quick bow as a gentler beat began playing, our hands swaying from side-to-side.
“Sometimes we're passionate lovers,” Haunani said, dancing beside me. “And sometimes we're trees only able to sway in the winds of passion, rocked by them, at their mercy.”
As she said those words, I noticed a woman sitting at a table in the front row wearing a black dress, her hands in the center of the table, the man sitting beside hers grasping them. The woman watched us, her hair a fiery red. I could just make out the smile on her lips, naughty and hungry as she gripped the man's hands.
A diamond glinted on her finger. They were married.
But her eyes were so hot on me.
A naughty thrill ran through me as I danced and swayed, a tree whipped in the hurricanes of passion, rooted to the spot, unable to move, but only to bend and undulate. The leis swayed over my breasts, my feet moving to the complex steps of the dance.
My eyes locked on the redheaded married woman. The hot wife.
She had a low-cut cleavage, her breasts rising and falling with her passion. She squirmed, crossing and recrossing her lush thighs beneath the small table. They were long and tan. Every time she shifted, I caught a shadowed glimpse between her thighs, the promise of her hot passion.
As our second song came to an end, I hungered for this redheaded married woman. I yearned to spear her with my futa-cock. As I danced the next song, moving on stage, swirling and twirling, my hips undulating to the frantic beat of the drums, I was performing for just her.
My every movement only inflamed her. I could see it every time my eyes fell on her. She leaned over more and more, gripping her husband's hands like a tether while giving me a great view down her cleavage. She was entranced, her cheeks flaming. She didn't understand why the hula girl had her so wet, so hot, so aching.
Her nipples tented her dress.
Her husband had no idea his wife was panting after me. He was too busy watching our beauty as we moved on stage. Our feet slapped the floor. Our hands clapped. Our bodies moved as we went from dance to dance, performing steps handed down from beyond recorded history.
“You have the hots for the redhead,” Haunani whispered as we danced near the end of our performance. “You can't take your eyes off of her.”
“She's stunning,” I groaned, fighting against my clit. I wanted to grow my dick and fuck the woman right here. To just bend her over that table and take her right in front of her husband.
The fantasy burned so hot through me. Juices trickled down my thighs as I pictured how amazing it would be, my body moving to the music by practice. My hips swaying and undulating for her pleasure, my breasts bouncing, leis flying to expose my pillowy mounds.
She licked her lips.
The last song struck up, my body glistening with sweat from the performance. The salty scent added to the sweet perfume. I rolled my hips as I stood near the front of the stage, almost like I was fucking her from here, my clit rubbing on the grass skirt.
I wanted her so badly.
I burned for it.
I would give her such pleasure.
Her husband would never give her the delights that I could.
How she would squeal on my shaft. How she would gasp and groan and shudder on my girl-dick. She would explode on it. She would convulse on my futa-cock. Her pussy would milk it. And I would pump so much jizz into her married depths.
I would flood the hot wife's cunt.
I stared into her eyes as I swayed, my feet moving through the dance's steps, my arms swaying. My clit ached, throbbed. It was such a struggle. It was such a fight to keep from letting it slip out through my skirt and—
Haunani's hands grabbed my hips.
Shock shivered through me. This w
asn't part of the dance. And then her dick slid through the grass of my skirt, brushing the cheeks of my ass. Hot precum smeared across my rump and into the crack of my ass. Her futa-dick found my asshole.
I kept dancing as I let out a throaty groan, my lover's girl-cock pressing against my asshole. My sphincter surrendered. Her shaft delved into my bowels. I shuddered, hot, velvety friction burning through me, the heat radiating to my pussy.
And to my clit.
“Just keep dancing for her,” Haunani moaned into my ear, her body pressed into my back. I felt the soft petals of her lei and the hard caress of her nipples. Her hands tightened on my hips, our bodies dancing together. “Make her so wet for you, my naughty i'iwi.”
“Yes,” I moaned, hot shudders running through me.
My bowels clenched on her dick. My swaying hips stirred it through me. There were thirty eyes on me, watching my girlfriend bugger me with her futa-cock. But it was one set of eyes that I treasured the most.
Her eyes.
She licked her lips, watching us dance together, thinking Haunani merely ground against me. She would never even consider that my girlfriend had had a futa-dick buried to the hilt in my tight bowels, sending fire racing through my body.
My clit ached and throbbed. I was on fire. It begged to sprout. It rubbed against the swaying fibers of my grass skirt, on the verge of blossoming into a full girl-dick. I fought it, my bowels clenching on my girlfriend's cock.
She groaned her appreciation. Naughty slut. She loved it.
The married woman watched with such dark eyes. She gripped her husband's hand so hard as she leaned forward. Her breasts jiggled in her low-cut dress, swaying as she squirmed in her seat. Her left hand vanished beneath the table, pressing into her crotch.
Itching the scratch I created.
My clit almost burst out of my control. It took so much effort to stop it, my hips moving faster and faster, Haunani's cock pumping in and out of my ass. Our grass skirts rustled together as she fucked me with her girl-dick, ramming it deep into my velvety bowels.