Tantric Lapdance

Sometimes you just need a hug.

A naked hug.

Naked therapy.

It was one of those nights. I was wanting to drink heavily as I walked in, and $2 domestics were tempting me to do just that. But I that wasn't a possibility I allowed myself that night. So, I chose a different means of a cure. The lapdance.

It was favorites night. Many of my favorite dancers, all in one music thumping room. One that I didn't recognize or acknowledge as I transitioned from the blinding sunlight to the dimly lit main area. One who's full body hug got my energy stirring. One who I've missed out on for too long. And one who stirred remembrances of naughty times past.

Each would have been terrific to spend my hours and time with. So, again the decision. Do I get a dance from each and spread the love around? Or do I huddle with one, missing out on the rest and alienating one a little.

Naked hug therapy. That's what I needed. Not laughing, or shouting, or random relentless grinding. Extended time. With one.

My mind debated the merits of each lovely dancer. How could one choose? My eyes, however, settled it for me. On this night there was one. On others maybe another. But tonight there was one.

Table time. Talking and catching up.

Stage time. Lingering to enjoy the beautiful cherub, angular and taught but nicely filled out and matured. Appreciating the total package - the look, the attitude, the confidence. That truly squeezable perfect derriere teasing me as she slowly works her way around the pole with a little hip waggle.

And dancetime. Extended version privately in the VIP. For the first time actually with her, although we have spent time before - and you've met her here before. Spirit, the sex pixie.

Dancer, was lovely that night - as always. Cute, with lively eyes and blonde hair pulled back into a tantalizing ponytail. It struck me as I looked at her that she reminds me in her face of a porn starlet - ubiquitous in men's magazines, but not really well known by the name of Sylvia Saint. Ah, but Sylvia is 2D and Spirit is fully alive and with me. She's a lovely petite girl, with all the right curves and toned places and tastefully placed ink.

I'm picturing her that night, familiar but with a twist. A new outfit - or uniform if you will - that I've not seen in a club before. A hocky jersey, almost completely covering her petite form with just her pony tail and heels sticking out the ends. Sexy. Very Sexy.

It was cold in the VIP. Blowers creating a draft on the couches. So I told Dancer to keep the jersey on. That small request set the tone for the 1/2 hour. Dancer settled in on my lap, straddling me. Cuddling me. A little cheek nuzzling. A lot of cuddling. Very little movement. Almost tantric.

And we stayed that way, almost throughout our time.

I enjoyed her. I enjoyed her weight on me. I enjoyed her heat against me. I enjoyed her cheek pressed against mine and her hair grazing me. I enjoyed her breath and her voice as we made almost silent small talk.

No dancing. No grinding. No simulated stimulation.

Touching, though. There was touching. Halfway through our time, the jersey came off. And as dancer settled back in to a hug - straddling me - against me. I touched. Fingertips only. Gentlemanly. Stroking. Caressing. Memorizing. Relaxing her. Healing me.

A hug. A half hour naked hug. Naked therapy.

My first tantric lapdance.

Thank you Spirit. It was just what I needed that night.