Tag Archives: nakedness

‘Did I date you? – The 2nd year’ is waiting for you

The second installment of ‘Did I date you?’ is now available for you.

The second part of ‘Did I date you?’ takes the Grey Knight on a new series of bewildering dates that will make you laugh or nod your head in agreement, having been on a similar date yourself. He meets new women such as Randy Russian, Deranged Debbie, Angry Yank, The Bitch and many more.

His journey to find The One takes a surprise twist when notable women such as Krazy Girl from the first book reappear.

Despite keeping his eye on the prize, he can’t helped be sucked further into a murky world of easy sex and disposable relationships. He learns about the politics of sex and how to seduce women, but the cost is mounting. He even tries to have a relationship. Can you guess how that turned out?

It’s a story of our times, for our times. Make of it what you will, but don’t judge him until you know the full story.

You can get it now via your preferred Amazon site:

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07M75P34H
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07M75P34H
Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07M75P34H
Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07M75P34H

Feel free to let me know what you think of it.

Your Grey Knight

Prague pandemonium – Part 2

I went up to Sasha who was sitting thumbing her phone. She looked up at me and smiled. I hadn’t given it much thought and all I could blurt out was “Hi Sasha. Could I have a lap dance please?” Very classy and mature, I know. I assumed that she spoke English. I felt like a schoolboy looking up a pretty girl’s skirt and being caught in the act.

She leapt to her feet and motioned towards a doorway between us and the bar that I hadn’t spotted. I gestured for her to lead the way and once inside the doorway there was a male cashier sitting on a stool balancing a little cash box on a thigh. Next to him was a stool with what looked like a miniature mixing desk and a microphone resting on it. He was the booming voice that controlled the music and volume. He probably controlled the girls too.

“What you want? Basic lap dance or lap dance with touch?” Sasha asked matter-of-factly in a sweet girlish voice tinged with that sexy Czech accent. She was young, very young.

Of course I wanted to touch her. What man wouldn’t? “With touch” I answered, not exactly sure what that meant.

The man in charge said “One thousand five hundred Crowns.”

I gave him the money, he put it in his box and handed a round metal disk to Sasha. I had no idea what the hell was going on, what would happen next and what I had just handed 50 Pounds over for, but I was willing to go along with it.

Next to us were three cubicles with large, heavy red curtains screening any potential goings on from the outside world. They were all empty. Sasha led me to the one furtherest away. I think she could tell that I had never done this before. Maybe I was being paranoid.

Sasha pulled the curtains closed behind us. One side of the cubicle was a padded cushioned bench-like seat. On the opposite wall was a full length mirror. Everything was red and a weak yellow light shone down on the two of us from above. It was almost cosy except for the smell of sweat and cheap perfume that spoke of other’s antics.

“These are the rules,” she started telling me. “First, no touching between the legs. Second, no kissing. Do you understand?” she said in a mock bossy tone that masked her true feelings.

“Yes” was all I could stammer. Was anything else needed? My brain started racing, calculating what “the rules” didn’t cover that I might be able to experience. How far could I push my luck? What did I want her to do for me? What would she agree to do? Dare I ask her about a blowjob or would she be offended? Jesus, what am I doing here? What if anybody finds out? What if this is a trap of some kind?

Somehow music started playing and Sasha pointed to the seat. I knew to sit down and not talk – the show was about to begin. This sexy, stunning young woman closed her eyes and started moving slowly to the rhythm of the music. She started running her hands slowly and suggestively over her body, all the while gently swaying her hips. She was wearing platform stilettos and I could tell that she was still coming to terms with them.

Her act escalated in to her pouting and pretending to get turned on. She started unbuttoning her white blouse, letting it hang loose off her, exposing a very lacy red bra. She pushed her fine light-brown hair up with her hands, parted her lips, faking being in the throes of ecstasy with little moans and sighs. I was enjoying this visual spectacle, but it wasn’t turning me on. It was interesting to me that she was not making eye contact.

Sasha dropped her blouse to the ground and started rubbing her breasts through her bra. I was starting to feel self-conscious, even though she wasn’t looking at me. Was she perhaps actually enjoying herself? In a fit of fairness, I started unbuttoning my shirt. It was also rather warm in the cubicle. I unbuttoned my shirt and opened it so that she could see my chest and stomach, but Sasha didn’t notice; she was still keeping her eyes closed, provocatively running her hands over her upper body.

She unclasped her bra and slid it off, letting it join the white blouse on the floor. Her breasts were perfectly formed and tight, albeit a bit small for my liking. (Yes, I’m a breast man.) Her bright pink nipples were hard and erect, just asking to be kissed and sucked. She leaned forward, putting her hands over my head against the wall and wriggled her shoulders, her breasts dancing before my face. Now I was getting turned on.

She stood back up pushing off against the wall, but nearly lost her balance because the shoes were still new for her. Sasha quickly regained her composure and looked me in the eye, noticing my torso which lead to an involuntary smile. She wriggled out of her tight black skirt, revealing panties that matched the discarded bra. She spun around, leaned forward, put her hands against the mirror and pushed her backside towards my face. Sasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her butt cheeks taking turns to swell.

She had unblemished skin, nary a hint of ripples or cellulite, devoid of varicose veins. She was a fine specimen of a woman. I felt privileged to be seeing what I was. I couldn’t help but reach out and touch her backside with both hands. They felt supple and inviting. She let out a gasp of breath, but it didn’t sound disapproving. It was almost as if she had been waiting to be touched, wanting it, needing it.

Sasha straightened herself, turned around, put her hands on my shoulders and pushed me back in my seat. As quick as a flash she put a knee either side of my legs and straddled me, her breasts tantalisingly close to my face. I took my glasses off and put them on a small table to my right that was built in to the seating. I appreciated the thoughtful attention to detail.

She folded her arms around the back of my head and leaned forward, then began slowly dragging her breasts across my face from one cheek to the other. I couldn’t control myself and when the second nipple passed near my mouth I moved my face and sucked on it. For a second or two she let it happen, letting out another gasp of breath and making a satisfied “ugh” sound.

“No!” she said as she pulled back from me, her nipple popping out of my mouth. She kept straddling me, but brought one hand forward and waved a finger at me while making strong eye contact. I smiled in recognition of her admonishment. But I had broken one of the rules. Was she about to punish me in some way? Was the “dance” now going to end? Was some ogre in a security uniform going to pull the curtains open, drag me outside into a dark alley where a group of unshaven thugs dressed in black were waiting to beat me level with the filthy paving stones next to a dumpster? Neither of us said another word.

Sasha put her arm back behind my head and resumed sliding her breasts across my face, slowly moving in every direction possible. I resisted the urge to suck her tits and just enjoyed the feeling of her young, firm breasts. I put my hands on her hips and kept them there for a few seconds, letting her get used to my touch. Lightly sliding my hands up her sides seemed to cause her spine to stiffen. She put her face next to mine and started making moaning and groaning noises. I wasn’t fooled; I knew it was part of her act and entirely for my benefit, but it did feel good, hearing an attractive woman breathing and sighing in my ear.

I ran my hands over the top half of her body, all the parts I could reach, deliberately not going for her breasts but saving those for last. They felt good in my grasp; all the while she kept making noises in my ear, almost encouraging me to keep going, which I gladly did. She felt good. Her body was firm and tight. Then Sasha leaned back, keeping her hands behind my head and started moving her hips backwards and forwards. She was grinding her hips against mine. In effect, she was trying to ride my cock with her pussy while wearing knickers.

Suddenly she stood up, reversed against the mirror and slid her red lace panties off slowly, bending forward carefully, her breasts teasing me while she made eye contact. Sasha parted her lips with an expression of naughtiness as her panties fell down around her ankles. Were those undies going to get caught up in those ridiculous platform shoes? She leaned back against the mirror, putting her hands behind her bottom, her closely-shaven vagina on show for me.

She managed to step out of the trap around her feet and swivelled around, once again putting her hands up against the mirror and arching her back, pushing her backside out towards my face. It was an instinctual reaction on my part: I leaned forward, put a hand on each butt cheek and pulled each cheek outwards, exposing her bald pussy and little asshole. She didn’t recoil or flinch, but stayed in that position until I had had my fill of looking at this sight. When I let go of her cheeks, they slammed shut because they were so tight.

Sasha straightened her spine and turned around, once again pushing me back in to the seat. She was now totally naked and made for a magnificent sight. She stepped forward, straddled me again and started an abbreviated, faster version of what she had done the previous time that she had straddled me. The major difference this time was that she was stark naked.

We never said a word or made eye contact as she ground her pussy against the growing erection in my jeans. She was moving in time with the music. I think it was Enigma’s “Principles of Lust”. It was getting warm in the cubicle and not just for me. As I slid the palms of my hands down and around her body as she writhed away on my lap, her pert breasts on my face, I could feel that her body was warm and somewhat clammy. It made stroking her firm skin easier and even more pleasurable.

I put my hands on her waist and pushed my hands upwards towards her armpits, at which point I ran them down over her breasts, cupping them. They were definitely a b-cup and felt exquisite. Her little pink nipples now appeared somewhat darker. Blood was rushing to them and they felt hard. I gently tweaked each nipple with my thumb and index finger and felt her give more force to her next few thrusts down with her hips. I thought about sucking them again and decided against it.

I pulled my head back, looked to the side of this nubile stripper and caught sight of us in the mirror. It was a strange sight, seeing myself like this. In an almost out-of-body experience, I watched my hands move around her back, up towards her shoulders. In something I had seen in a porn movie, I grabbed her long light brown ponytail and gently pulled back on it. She made an approving “umm” sound and kept grinding away on me without skipping a beat. I let go and dragged my hands down her ribs, watching the skin furrow in front of my hands as I went down to her buttocks. I gripped her butt cheeks and pulled them apart, wondering if I could see her asshole in the mirror. I couldn’t because the angle was wrong and it was too dark.

For some strange reason I felt compelled to stand up. I wanted to feel her full weight in my arms, her naked, sweaty torso as closely as possible against mine. Not for a second did I give any thought to whether or not this was allowed or how she would react to such an aggressive and spontaneous manoeuvre. Aren’t all prostitutes and strippers supposed to keep control of the situation?

I leaned forward slightly, tightly wrapped my arms around her body and stood up. Sasha didn’t say a word or show any kind of emotion, she just stopped moving. She had wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms were around the back of my neck. I could feel her chest heaving from her breathing, her breasts moving against me. She was calmly resting her head against mine. I held her in this lover’s embrace for a few seconds, savouring the sensation of all that was her against me.

Having this beautiful woman in this position, her sole intent to please me, was having a multitude of effects on me. It was stroking my ego because I felt desirable, it was making me feel alive, making me feel manly…and making me horny. What was it doing for her, I wondered.

The music died and Sasha unwound herself off me, landing carefully on her silly shoes. “Time is up” is all she said as she gave me a sly look. I said “Thank you” to which she smiled. We got dressed without another word. I was in a mild state of shock. Never in my life had I imagined that one day I would do the things I had just done. I was surprised at myself, but not overly disgusted.