Another erotic tale of Bobby Quiff in a dinner.
Turning her back to the audience, but smiling over her shoulder, she swivel-hipped her way off the stage, her curvaceous bottom swaying to the beat, feeling the fabric of her hot pants clinging to her, as close as a suntan. When her act had begun, she had some doubts but by that time, Angel knew without question the pants would be coming off, at least partially, during her next appearance on the stage. She also had no doubt in her mind that she would remove them completely before the show was over.
"Don't go away. I'll be right back," Angel called out again into the microphone, informing everybody. Following her announcement, she stepped onto the corner of the stage to give everybody another look at her breasts and to blow kisses and, not incidentally to see if the handsome man was still in his seat. He was still there, but not sitting down. Like almost everybody else, he was standing and clapping his hands. The entire audience, by whistles, cheers and applause, showed their appreciation of her act so far and of her promise to reappear.
She was not at all tired, and could still feel herself being energized by the audience's reactions to her. The love Angel felt flowing back and forth between them and herself and the sensuous music, combined with stray thoughts of the unknown man she had been playing to, had also caused her to become quite aroused sexually. Angel could feel her clit stiffening and, when she separated her breasts to look down the front of her body, there was a distinct bulge in her pants. She was glad the garment was loose there, and the simulated erection had not been included. When she peeked out into the crowd, the man was still there, but seated again and leaning forward in anticipation of her return.
Another song began, and Angel danced back onto the stage, twirling, swiveling her hips and shaking her bare breasts to tumultuous approval. Once again she stopped in the center of the stage, facing but not seeing the man who had piqued her interest. She wondered if he could see the erection bulging in her hot pants, but didn't think it a problem even if he could. Like everybody in the audience, he would be aware she was a T-girl, and the evidence of her arousal shouldn't cause him to lose any of his obvious interest. It might increase it, but Angel didn't know if she would like that or not.
After a few seconds of swaying and shaking, Angel cupped a hand under either of her breasts, lifted them and leaned forward to lick one nipple, then the other. Like her clit, they had become erect with her arousal. The audience let her know how much they approved of the autoeroticism, and Angel wondered how much of the approval was coming from the man in front of her. Her nipples became even harder as she wondered if he would want to lick them, and what his mustache would feel like against the soft skin of her breasts. She also wondered if he would use the same technique as her regular man friends, all of whom had almost slipped out of her mind until then.
Once again, Angel turned her back on the audience, her succulent arse cheeks squirming provocatively as she did. She continued that sensuous movement to the slow, hard beat of the music, until she bent over, giving the crowd a better look, but not as good as they would soon be getting, of her gorgeous bum. When she straightened up, both thumbs and index figures gripped the zipper tabs on her pants and pulled them down. She could have let them drop to the floor, but preferred to tease some more before removing them.
Turning to face the crowd again, her hands still held the hot pants in place. After a few more bumps of her hips, she released the back of one side, letting it flap out, exposing one creamy buttock, covered by nothing but the strap of her G-string, which was flesh colored and so narrow it was almost invisible. As if unaware of what had just happened, Angel continued shaking and swiveling her hips.
"Take it off!" one daring soul in the audience shouted, and man