Fed by the NFL gang-3

The guys whistled. Eve turned around for them to admire. I took drink orders and soon we were all chatting away, Eve in the center. Her perfume scented the air. I could see Donk’s eyes glistening, a perpetual smile on his face. I had a hard on in my pants.

The brothas talked about football, teasing one another as they became a little tipsy. Eve flirted with them all, until one of them might make a grab for her.

“Now don’t get rushed, honey. We’re all looking forward to your dance. Let me start the music.”

“Let it rip, Jamal.” Jamal cranked up the CD player and we were serenaded by the classic opening strains of “The Stripper.” Eve began her routine, only performed privately for me until then.

She was very good. Her struts had just the right bounce and she took the little mincing steps of the true burlesque queen. Weaving in front of us, she teased with the boa and briefly raised the skirt to her knee, exposing black stockings with back seams.

She took her time. I could feel the tension in the room as she played with the zipper at her back. It seemed an age before she slowly pulled it down, and even more slowly began to shimmy out of the dress. The males applauded.