Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2)

by Charisse Spiers

  She laughs.

  "There's that smile." I wipe her cheek. "I knew it was back there somewhere."

  She glances behind me at the stage. "Are you having fun looking at boobs and booties?"

  "It's terrible. Bryant accused me of being ball-less when I wouldn't flirt back with the waitress."

  Her laughter picks up. "You're like the worst porn star icon ever."

  "Best compliment all night," I say, stealing Bryant's line from earlier.

  "So . . . there is still an unclaimed lap dance on the table?"

  I shake my head. "I don't want one."

  She wraps her hands around the back of my neck, straightening her posture. Slowly she's coming back. "Who said I was talking about you?"

  My jaw drops just enough to cause an opening in my mouth. "Can—" Words fail me.

  She laughs. "We could do a double."

  I stare at her. "You want a lap dance?"

  "Maybe . . . Do it with me and I'll give you one myself after." She pauses. "For all of these people to see."

  The dimples come out. I can feel them. "You know the way to my heart. Or I could just bypass the main course and go straight for dessert."

  She kisses my nose. "Nope. It's our farewell bachelorhood party. We're going to live it up, old man. You in or you out?"

  I'm amused. The level in which I am is steadily increasing. "Kambry."

  "What?"

  "How did you get into a strip club alone under twenty-one?"

  Her lips line and her eyes widen, a spark lying within the depths. "See, what had happened was . . ."

  "Spill wife."

  "Promise you won't be mad. I had to stoop to drastic measures."

  "I'm pretty sure you'd be any man's hero for coming here on your own free will anyway, so go ahead."

  "Well, after he asked for my ID I handed him the one Tynleigh gave me to use earlier without all the confidence I have when I'm with her. He saw straight through me and denied me entry, so I told the guy at the door that there was someone important in here that I needed to see immediately due to an emergency."

  "That did not work."

  "I never said I was finished. When that didn't faze him I discretely pulled out a stack of hundreds I had just gotten from the ATM and quietly told him if he'd overlook a few things and let me in I'd never breathe a word and the money was his, along with a nice little bonus. Then, I showed what God gave me that has you so wound up all the time and bam! Here I am."

  I'm stressing the ability to suppress laughter right now. "You showed a bouncer at a titty bar a set of tits and that worked?"

  "Hey, I just figured if they hooked a famous porn star for life then surely they would get me entry into a strip club for a few short hours if I were on my best behavior and didn't cause a ruckus."

  I glance down at her tight one-piece dress that doesn't seem like it has easy access to both breasts. "Are your boobs the only things you showed him?"

  "Well I mean . . . I had to pull up my dress to get to them. Does that make a difference? Because he still saw the girls."

  I close my eyes and shake my head, biting back the laughter that's getting harder to control with every sentence that comes out of her mouth. I was that poor unsuspecting man that saw her body for the first time once. It's hell on a man, targeting his groin like a damn heat-seeking missile. There is no escaping it. You're going to have a boner.

  We're taught through common sense and the sight of eyes that a woman either has all natural curves or skin and bone. Anything else becomes altered content. That's just the way the majority of the gene pool works. But when a man sees a girl like Kambry that has fucking amazing big tits and a tiny frame, it is only natural that he's dumbfounded. It defies everything we know is true. If every woman got the best of both worlds there would be no give and the world would be plastic.

  "Did you just go to random strip clubs flashing the staff looking for me or did you somehow know this one was the one I'd be at?"

  "I told the cab driver to take me to the most discreet for people that are known publicly and this was the one he chose. I should have given him a bigger tip. Are you mad?"

  "Did he touch?"

  "No."

  "Did he take the money?"

  "No. It was kind of strange, actually. As I was pulling my dress back down he asked my name: my real name. I thought he was going to call the cops on me for a minute. When I told him, he got this smirk on his face, let me in, and said I've earned it—whatever that means. By that point I didn't ask any questions. I was afraid he'd change his mind."

  A cheesy grin marks my face. "That's all he said, huh . . ."

  "Oh, he did say to tell the bachelor to give the club a shout-out. No clue. Just the messenger."

  I laugh. Her innocence has always kept me hooked. "It means he recognized you from one of two places, but I’m going to guess it’s probably option number one. He was confirming it with your name. By shout-out, he wants me to reference the strip club on my social media platforms like I did the Tumblr account."

  "Is that where all of those instant followers came from?"

  "Most of them I'm sure. I had a lot of comments and shares on my Facebook post and it had been a long time since I had posted anything on my page other than the link Michael sent for the show. Usually I only post links to purchase anyway."

  Her eyes widen and she whispers. "Oh! By recognize, you mean like he watches porn?"

  A laugh slips. "Yes," I whisper back. "A lot more people watch it than you think, but why are we whispering?"

  She laughs. "I'm not sure," she says, back to her normal tone. "I guess I never really thought about the fact that people could be watching us while we’re here. By the way, now what am I going to do with all this money?"

  "You're going to need it," I say, a cocky grin on my face. I'm trying to keep my dick in check, but it's getting more difficult with each thought that occurs. "You still want a lap dance? This isn't a male strip club . . ."

  She bites her bottom lip and her cheeks become flushed. She stares into my eyes, hesitating. "It's okay to tell me your fantasies, Kambry. I would never judge you for things you want to try, no matter what it is. I'll do anything with you or for you except bring someone else into our sex life. That's the line I won't cross. That's my limit."

  "Yes," she breathes out. "I want one. I don't know why. Maybe just for the experience. I don't like girls or anything."

  "Stop feeling like you have to explain. That's why it's called a fantasy. You don't have to have a reason to want something. Most of them are probably taboo. That's kind of the point. It's supposed to be something outside of normal."

  "Okay. Tell me what to do."

  My heart feels like it's about to burst from my chest it's racing so hard. Getting my own lap dance doesn't excite me, but watching her get one has my nerves raging. It's hot as fuck. When this is over we might be having dirty bathroom sex. I can make no promises that I'll be able to keep my hands off of her or my dick out of her. "It's easy. Sit back, relax, and tip. We aren't in a cheap restaurant. Tips are reward. Use it like a grading scale. The better she does or the more turned on you become—it's okay if it does—the more you tip. I'll give whatever you spend back to you later."

  She shakes her head, but I ignore it. I grab the backs of her knees and pull her middle against me. "If you want me to participate, I have one condition."

  "What is it?"

  "We get a private room together."

  "Okay."

  Just like that she agrees. I back up and reach for her hand. She takes it, no questions asked. To me, this is what a real relationship is all about; not being in a strip club, specifically, but doing things together that aren't necessarily orthodox. Giving to the other person instead of getting jealous is what truly makes you stand apart from the rest. It's give and take equally. Deep down I want to make her happy. I want to be by her side when she experiences new things. Not only do I love her, but also I love hanging out with her. The girl is my best fr
iend, and the only person I know without a doubt I can't live without.

  Kambry

  The room is slightly spinning from the alcohol. My nerves are trying to get the best of me. I glance at Saxton across the room, sitting relaxed in a chair facing me. He seems so far away. The longer I look at him the bigger his smile gets. I wish I were as relaxed as he is. I focus on my breathing, trying not to seem so nervous.

  The recessed spotlights are dim and the wallpaper is black, covered in a silver pattern that seems upscale. I straighten my posture, sitting upright in my chair from the slight slump I was in, my heels pressed firmly against the hardwood floor between the legs of my chair. I feel like I'm being uptight, but this is the part of me I hate. I find it hard to relax in sensual situations. I want to seem cool and collected, and not like an amateur kid talking to her crush for the first time.

  I cross one leg over the other and then uncross it, trying to find a comfort zone. "You nervous?"

  I can see his dimples from here, even under his Cal ball cap with stubble covering the lower half of his face. Lord knows that man could get anything he wants from me wearing a hat. It's my weakness. Turn it around backwards and I'm begging at his feet. I hate the way he can read me like an open book, but I also love it. "No," I lie.

  "Liar."

  I focus on one thing: him. He grabs the bill of his cap and turns it around backwards before slumping down into the chair, folding his arms and grabbing onto the back with his hands. I'm not sure a man could be better looking than the one I have. He's that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and he's mine. I'm still not sure how I got so lucky. "I don't know how not to be," I say honestly. "How do you do it?"

  "With everyone else it's easy. I don't care to impress them, so there are no expectations than to simply exist. I’m just myself. With you, I just put on a mask and hope you don't notice."

  "You look sexy like that," I interrupt, unable to help it. He's the focal point even in a beautiful room. "It's always been my favorite view."

  "Sexy is too mild of a word to describe the way you look, Kambry. You'll always be my favorite view. You're the only person that's ever been able to leave me speechless on your appearance alone. Just know I'm doing this for you. I don't need shit like this to stay happy with you."

  "I know. I love you," I say, and then the spotlights dim down until they're off, leaving us in temporary darkness, and the other half that was previously turned off placed throughout the ceiling come on.

  Black lights. My dress becomes stark white; slightly glowing like neon does under these same lights.

  A strobe light begins bouncing throughout the entire room, creating that same slow motion effect as it was in the club earlier.

  Music starts: a sexy, seductive, hip-hop tune.

  "Just imagine it being me and you'll relax," he says, a smile evident in his voice. "Or Meredith. Don't forget, you can't touch unless you're tipping. That's the rules." A roll of bills sits clenched tight within my fist. My nerves are not calming at all. If anything they are only getting worse.

  The door opens and two girls walk in: gorgeous ones at that. I'm a little jealous. One is wearing a strapless zip up dress, the amount of cleavage implying that only her nipples are covered. It's short, black, and leather, her long red hair cascading over her shoulders to her ribs. The other is blonde like me, her hair long with razor straight layers, wearing low-riding black leather pants and what reminds me of a short version of a biker vest also in leather to cover the black bra she's wearing. Both of them are on the tall side, their bodies so curved it reminds me of an hour glass from chest to hips, but there isn't an ounce of fat present.

  My stomach is fluttering wildly. Once they reach the center of the room they part ways, one coming to me and the other going to Saxton. I get the redhead. She stops before me, blocking my vision from anything else. She has the hint of a smile present, her makeup on point to make her eyes the focal of her face.

  Her hips start to sway. One foot over the other she turns, slowly and seductively, as if she's giving me a three-dimensional view of the entire product. When she arrives back at her starting point, she lowers the zipper until the dress falls to the floor, leaving her in the tiny string panties that I'm guessing only covers her front.

  She walks toward me, her large boobs barely moving at all. By the look of them I'm going to say she's had them done. They're appealing. My heart is racing, only getting faster the closer she gets. My breathing feels out of control, but then the weirdest thing happens. When she straddles me and grabs the back of my chair, all of the nerves go away, and excitement replaces it.

  Her body takes on another form, and then she begins, dancing at the pace of the music. At first it's a sweep back and forth, her middle brushing my lap along the way. The music changes and her body adjusts. She begins to roll against me, getting closer with every passing second. I pull a bill free from the roll in my hand and drape it over the front section of her panties, only half showing. She smiles, and then one hand skims down my arm as her hip glides to the right. She lifts my hand and places it on her hip, never stopping the wave motion her body is making, allowing me to touch her as she dances against me.

  Each time she starts from the top, her back arches and I can feel her hard nipples against me. It's turning me on, and I'm trying not to think too hard on why that is. She straightens her posture and grabs the back of my hair, tilting my head back so that I'm looking into her eyes as she leans in close to me. Barely any distance apart, she begins grinding and rolling against my entire body. This is kind of hot.

  I hang another two bills on the tiny string that sits at her hip. She sits up and releases me, then stands and turns around, revealing her backside. Her ass is smooth and round, completely uncovered, with only the strings to her panties meeting at a T just above it. She drops to the floor, breaking it down in front of me, before standing back up.

  She returns to my lap, back first this time. Her back muscles move one at a time as she dances on my thighs, slowly backing up into my lap. I place my hands atop the chair to my sides, trying to remember I'm not supposed to touch unless she places my hands on her. She pops her ass against me, her middle slightly rubbing against my dress. I'm getting hot, and I don't know if it's the temperature or that I'm that turned on.

  Again I shove another bill under her panties at the back. Unexpectedly, before I can return my hand to its place, she grabs it and brings it to her front. Slowly she skims it up her body, palm down. I can feel the metal bar through her navel in passing as she continues to ascend. Suddenly my hand is wrapped around a breast as she works her ass against my lap, hiking my dress up: a large, firm one.

  Oh my god.

  Do I just sit here or do I do something?

  Be fucking sexy.

  What would Meredith do?

  Better yet, what would turn Saxton on?

  She's obviously giving me permission to touch her.

  I lean in until my chest is at her back and then I lightly squeeze, before rubbing my hand across to the other side. I discretely push my head to the side to see if I can see him across the room.

  Our eyes lock just as my fingers brush over her nipple.

  He's staring straight at me, despite the fact that a really hot girl is grinding his fucking crotch as if clothes were not in the way. Her body is killer and can move in ways I'm not sure I knew were possible. I'm pretty positive that if something ripped penetration wouldn't be far behind.

  I expected him to be more involved in the almost naked stripper in front of him. I foresaw him glued to the chest that sits at eye level had his face been a few inches to the left. I kind of wanted to see that honestly.

  I was quite sure if I ever saw something like this I'd be jealous enough to commit murder. The fact that I'm more turned on than jealous is something I don't understand. Maybe it's because I'm here, watching it all happen, knowing nothing will actually happen, and maybe it's that I'm getting the same treatment as he is for myself. I don't think I'
d have the same reaction if the person grinding an ass in my lap were a guy. I don't want the memory of him dancing on me that night in the club tainted with someone else.

  But the way he's looking at me . . .

  I'm wet.

  I'm hot.

  I want to fuck and this girl is not hindering that feeling at all. She's only amplifying it.

  Surprisingly, I now see the appeal with boobs. Maybe I just had to experience them from a guy's point of view, touching someone else's besides my own. This is fucking hot: me watching him, him watching me, and both of us experiencing someone else without actually cheating on each other.

  I will never be able to live without him. I physically need him just as much as I want him. I love him more than I could ever measure in words. No one else will ever understand me, love me, or complete me the way he does. Him grabbing his girl's ass and squeezing as I grope this one's breast only verifies that we are damn near perfect for each other.

  We are explosive.

  We are hungry.

  We are insatiable.

  We are porn stars.

  We are Saxton and Kambry.

  And nothing or no one can destroy us, because we are in love.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Saxton

  I pace back and forth, shaking my hands up and down to try and relax. It's not working. What I need is a cigarette the size of my cock. I actually may. It's been a minute since I've had one. That sounds really good right about now.

  "Dude, would you sit the fuck down? You're making me feel like I'm the one getting married."

  I glare at Bryant in his monkey suit. "Don't tell me to sit down. Technically, you weren't even invited."

  "Not according to your hot sister . . ."

  "Shut up. Do you have a cigarette?"

  "Maybe . . . What's it to you?"

  "Fucking fork it over."

  "Now, Saxton, is that any way to talk to your best man?"

  I sit down beside him at the foot of the bed. My elbows go to my thighs, my palms to my hair. "Dude, do you really want me to walk to the alter like this? Cut me some fucking slack."