Secret Dancer

Alison spots a strip club coupon on the counter and figures her dad must be stepping out on Alana. She’s ready to snitch when Alana rolls in from a cab—face full of makeup, leopard print barely covering her tits and ass. Alison puts two and two together, waves the coupon like a caught-you badge, and Alana admits the truth: she dances for cash and the dirty looks. She pleads with Alison to keep quiet, says it’s the one thing that’s hers. Alison’s price is simple—she wants a lap dance. Alana balks, then caves; better this than dad finding out. She straddles Alison, hips rolling stiff and awkward, until Alison’s hands slip under the bikini and tug the top down. Small tits pop free. Alison squeezes, thumbs dragging across tight nipples, while Alana protests that customers aren’t allowed to touch. When Alison blurts out that she’s wanted this for years—watching Alana soap up in the shower just to stare at that ass—Alana freezes. Alison peels off the thong anyway, ignores the warning that dancers stay bottomless at work. Two fingers slide straight into slick folds, and Alana’s pussy clenches around them, wetter every second. Alison strips, pushes Alana onto her back, and plants her mouth between spread thighs. Tongue lapping fast and hungry, she doesn’t stop until Alana bucks and comes with a shaky cry. Alison swings a thigh over Alana’s face, lowers her own cunt onto waiting lips, and rides while Alana rubs her clit raw. They end up scissoring hard, wet lips grinding, before dropping into a gasping 69 and finishing together, mouths full of each other’s come.