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Pole Dancing

Posted by: Age: 24 Posted on: 6 comments
5 likes 1 views Category: Masturbation Female Solo Tags: Masturbation, pole dancing, pole dancing exercise, pole dancing lesbians

No…it’s not my ‘thing’ at all, but a friend took me along to a class.


Class? Oh yes, it’s a surprisingly popular hobby. None of these girls will ever wear next to nothing and drape themselves on a chromium pole for men to leer at. This is a fitness and strength thing, and boy….are these girls both fit and strong. 

 

And sweaty! The first thing that hit me in the room was an overpowering scent of girl-sweat…..and, if I may use delicate, feminine words to describe it, it was ‘fucking gorgeous!’. Mixed in with the girl-sweat, was a noticeable amount of, and there’s no other way to say this, ‘fresh cunt’. 

 

 

The girls either wore bikinis, or bikini-type bottoms and tank tops, or some had what almost look like granny-knickers….well, one or two did, anyway. If you are allergic to labia, this isn’t the place for you! There is absolutely no doubt that every girl shaves. Not a single pube was in sight, while labia bulged on every side. 

 

 

There were three poles with crash mats at the bottom. The two on the side were for warm ups and there were another three poles at the other end of the room for teaching purposes. There were four coaches in attendance. Each girl was working on a series of moves and transitions that would eventually blend into a routine. Apparently there are competitions where scores and awards are handed out, together with critiques. I had no idea it was such an industry. And this group is heavily oversubscribed. “We could fill another ten clubs like this” said the chief instructor. Well…if ever a business idea dropped into my lap it was now. Me, with a range of large rooms filled with hot, sweaty girls. (Sigh) it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it. 

 

 

Immediately I saw opportunities. There should be an on-site cafe for one thing….and showers….and changing rooms…and maybe selling some proper pole-dancing outfits too…..as I watched ideas popped in my mind like fireworks. 

 

 

At least they did when I wasn’t being overwhelmed by the scent of girl!  One little thing, shorter even than me, was doing this in her bra and panties. At one point she was upside down on the pole with her legs open and there was a visible stain on her crotch. A gentle breeze brought her scent too me and made my head spin. 

 

 

The friend who brought me here said “We work so hard in here. I mean seriously hard. It’s horny as fuck too. There’s only the toilets for changing and you frequently hear girls getting themselves off after a serious workout. My eyes tracked his girl as she did several different routines on the main pole, the moved to one near me to warm-down, as they call it. I timed my exit perfectly and got to the restroom ahead of her. If the main room smelled of cunt - you should have smelled the restroom. It was, admittedly tiny - only three stalls and a couple of basins, but many an orgasm had taken place in here. 

 

 

My nose is surgically precise. I notice smells as almost visible layers. One day, in one of my pubs, as soon as I walked in my nose wrinkled because I could smell something bad. No-one else could, but it troubled me enough to go on a scent-hunt. I followed my laser-guided nose down into the cellar, past the tap room and laundry room, and towards three rooms that haven’t been opened as long as I’ve owned the place. In one of them, I found a (reasonably) freshly dead mouse. That’s how accurate I am. 

 

 

I tucked myself in the furthest cubicle and waited. The outer door went and then the door next to me. There was some movement in there which I figured was bra and panties coming off….and a wave of combined girl-scent wafted over me. Then, oh, then I heard the sounds of a very wet vagina being furiously and rapidly masturbated. A slight thump of a hand hitting the wall for support and then, “Ohh…ohh…..ohhhhhh,” followed by the sound of water hitting water. Well, you know me, whether squirt or pee, it didn’t matter, but my nose didn’t detect pee scent. This little one is a squirter! 

 

 

Well of course I did. I waited until she’d gone, then ducked into her cubicle to finish myself off. 

 

 

It’s now four hours later, and my commercial estate agent has found me eight places that would covert to ‘pole clubs.’ I need advice though - and employees. This is an area I know the square root of fuck-all about. I am meeting someone tomorrow for a chat about how I might go about setting these up, and whether there’s any real money in them. My accountant said that she wasn’t overly bothered about raking vast profits in, and, in fact, a break-even situation or even a loss would help my tax position. 

 

 

Happy days!

 

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