Tangled Passions Pt. 03 Ch. 32-34

Later, while anchored in Bangkok, Jenn accompanied a small party of patrons as they went ashore to see the sights. Except that she was dressed only in sandals and a thin smock dress of unbleached cotton, the morning was like that of any other tourists in the city. The man to whom she belonged for the day was named René – just like O's original lover, Jenn thought – and the couple they were with were Gus and Krista. It was Krista who insisted that Jenn call them by their first names, rather than milord and milady, while ashore. They made an attractive foursome as they spent the morning visiting churches and curiosities before having lunch at a quaint restaurant in an older, affluent part of the city. Jenn's morning had been virtually chaste, aside from the odd kiss or caress such as one might receive from a friend or spouse in a carefree moment. But, after lunch, they took pedicabs into the heart of the city.

As they left the cabs to walk through the masses, staying close together, Jenn felt an elevation of emotions and excitement, in the others as well as herself. Prostitutes flaunted themselves, displaying their offerings at many darkened doorways. Barkers and pimps shouted and shouted, incomprehensibly for Jenn although she could detect the odd word of understandable English thrown in here and there. Disoriented by the sensory crush, Jenn held closer to René, feeling increasingly like O in her dependence and fear. But was it actually fear? If it fueled her thrill and stoked her desire, if it was something she endured with relish and eagerly anticipated, could it still be considered fear? It was part of the conglomeration of passions to which she was addicted, but no, it wasn't really fear any longer. It had ascended from fear. Now it was something else, something that, in its agitation, calmed her sensuous cravings.

Hence, a warm tingle of excitement glowed just under the surface – just ready to catch fire. Allowing the noise and smells – the warmth of her companion, the brazen displays of the whores, baring flesh amongst the rush of oblivious local commerce – to lull her into a trance, Jenn was startled by their abrupt stop outside a dark entrance. Smoke and chatter wafted into the alley. Gus led the four into the dim half-empty establishment, where the low runway stage and arrangement of tables indicated a club or floorshow of some type.

Jenn followed as they made their way right to the front, to sit at a table contiguous with the stage. As they were ordering drinks, the dim houselights dimmed further and the stage brightened. An MC swept onto the stage and made introductions, apparently in several languages, one of which was severely broken English. Although it was not at all unexpected, the words 'Sex Show', deciphered from the MC's garbled announcement, further fanned Jenn's already glowing excitement. Her apprehension dissipated as she relaxed in the anonymous dark. She could feel the germination of arousal in the obvious potential that hung like a high-energy aura over the patrons of the establishment. As the first performer came out and began her lascivious strip tease, Jenn was reminded of her own strip bar experience – how much it had turned her on. Of course, there, in Bangkok, it was hardly a strip tease. Once naked the woman left little to the imagination. As the performer lowered herself slowly to the stage floor, while reaching for a long dildo, René pulled Jenn's hands to his crotch and leaned to whisper in her ear, "Gimme a kiss."

Jenn couldn't help checking around the room before sinking to her knees beneath the table, which cantilevered, from the stage. René spread his knees as his semi-erect penis sprang out of his fly. Jenn, her head rubbing the underside of the counter, inclined her head forward and sucked his manhood into her mouth. From the corner of her eye she could detect Gus and Krista's hands working into one another’s crotches. Slowly relishing the smooth warmth of the cock, its gradual engorgement, Jenn felt her own genitals swell, moisture seeping from between her puffy lips, to gather like dew in her grotto. As his full erection began to reach further into the back of her throat, she felt the beginning of a frenzied drive toward a mutual climax, but was interrupted by beckoning upward pressure at her ears. Surfacing onto her seat at his side, disappointed, despite knowing that satisfaction was inevitable, Jenn saw that the first stripper had been replaced. This one was stunningly beautiful, removing her costume with a slow, innocent poise.

Placing his hands at her waist, René lifted Jenn onto his lap, and without removing her eyes from the performance, Jenn lifted her dress slightly and lowered herself carefully onto his staff. She squirmed her hips slightly, settling herself, elbows on the table, until she was completely impaled on him – the length of his erection poking her uterus, its breadth stretching her quim. With his hands remaining at her waist, René held her still on him. She could feel the sporadic pulsing of his tool as it retreated slightly from the sharp edge of consummation. Jenn's eyes were captured by the dancer's piercing gaze, and the very slightest hint of a smile betrayed her knowledge of Jenn's salacious conjunction. As they sat motionless, appreciating the slow strip continuing on stage, René produced a sheaf of paper money that he held up towards the dark beauty, as a kind of a lure. Slowly getting herself naked at last, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the woman inserted her fidgeting fingers into her thrust out cunt, and approached the edge of the stage limbo style, holding Jenn hungrily in her gaze. She sank to her back, her knees splayed towards them, buttocks on her heels; her vagina lay on their table like a bouquet.

Jenn didn't even need René's light touch at the back of her head. Her hands had already reached into the black bush to open the inviting flower even further. She had already begun to incline her head forward, but she didn't yet want to surrender to the frenzy of arousal that clattered and chattered from her grasping sheath on René's cock to the flashing point right behind her eyes. Slowly, slowly, leading with her tongue, she drew a line from anus to clitoris. She could taste the lubrication, as natural and feminine as her own. It amazed her that this woman, this performer, this whore was excited – excited enough to dew. Jenn hoped and suspected that it was something out of the ordinary – a special connection, just made, between them only. René's hands came around to touch her nipples and mold her breasts through the thin cotton of her dress. Suddenly there was no holding back. She began to stroke the proffered vagina in a broken rhythm, long and slow, punctuated by swirling nibbles of its erect clit and deeply thrusted probes into the warm velvet folds of its interior. Her fingers held its lips, stretching them wide then prodding and poking and stroking, stopping only to dance a few steps about the twitching boatman, before plunging back into the fray. Bouncing on her mount, Jenn struggled not to let her riding rhythm interfere with her oral veneration. Sharp flashes of delicious pain started rippling up her body each time she smacked her own cervix hard against the intruder. She could feel tremors, in the thighs at her cheeks. The hungry beauty had moved her own hands under her buttocks and began to bounce herself, pushing herself impatiently against Jenn's face. Just as Jenn's own climax started its familiar detonation sequence, the object of her ministrations began to buck uncontrollably. Holding on tight, Jenn tasted the juices of love suddenly let down in a torrent of squirming against her tongue. Her own orgasm exploded in her core, obliterating order from her consciousness. She could feel at once the expanding sphere of her multi-coloured climax; the deep, pulsing jets of spunk scalding her womb; the trembling knees squeezing against the sides of her head; the hot wet bush, scouring her face as she lapped at the continuing effusion.

Slowly they pulled apart. René pushed the folded bills between the dancer’s toes. She gracefully plucked it from her foot and nodded her thanks as she stood to a smattering of applause amidst the cocktail chatter. Still impaled on the slowly deflating tool, Jenn felt enervated. She barely had the energy to lift her head – to meet the sad eyes that stared into her soul. They said, so clearly, that under other circumstances they surely would have been friends and lovers.

"Goodbye," came the whispered English, as she blew Jenn a kiss then turned to gather her costume and leave the stage.

"’Bye," Jenn breathed, vanquished once again.

“You were marvelous, my dear.” “An absolutely splendid performance.” Her companions effused vocally as they left the club to wander back toward the tender. Suddenly René pulled her aside, into the narrow opening of a dim and dangerous-looking alley.

“I got these for you, Jenn,” he said as he produced a pair of large pearl pendants. “You’re such a good sport.” Jenn smiled, flustered, not knowing what to say, and lowered her eyes as he said, “Here, let’s try them on.” He expertly opened her blouse and fastened the cushioned clamps to her nipples.

As Jenn raised her eyes to René in silent gratitude and appreciation, Gus, suddenly exclaimed, “I can’t wait any longer!” He flipped up Jenn’s dress and drove in without warning. Jenn’s eyes grew suddenly wide and she gasped out her breath. The pendants swung about but stayed where they belonged as Gus hung on tight to her hips and pounded her, barely out of the flow of sidewalk traffic. René let out a huge laugh as he stepped back to watch.

“The Gus shake-down test,” he observed, indicating the violently swinging pendants still firmly attached to Jenn’s nipples. Krista stood next to him, chuckling at the sight; Gus came strong and quick. He quickly rearranged himself, did up Jenn’s blouse over the clamps, then kissed her gently on the lips before guiding her back into the stream of pedestrian traffic with their companions. Jenn’s head was spinning; she felt drugged. Only the sharp pinch of the clamps penetrated her mental fog – inside which still danced her exotic lover.

Before she returned to her quarters that night she had had Gus again, René anally, and had licked Krista to their satisfaction, but it had been a dazed charade. Her mind hadn't been able to lose the swirling images of the anonymous stripper. That night she masturbated to the same lithe dark visions.