STRIPPING AND SQUIRTING at Ye Olde Kooze Club (geriatric sex) from Crucibles of Passion

A tinkly rendition of "My Wild Irish Rose" surged through the loudspeakers , sung by someone with the muffled melodramatic highs of the early Rudy Vallee.  Red and orange lights twinkled on overhead.

Next a spotlight beamed upon the stage where a woman in white earrings
(the simple round clip ons your Aunt might be partial to) white necklace, white bra,  white elbow-length gloves, white garter belt,  white stockings and white high heeled shoes, was dancing as she slid a white phallic-shaped vibrator along her body. Her hair too was white with curls trimmed neat as a flower bed all over her head.

Static crackled into the music and an announcer's voice came on in Italian, followed by English:"Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Rose White, Ejaculator Extraordinaire!" We all applauded.  Mike gave a shrill wolf whistle. Rose threw kisses in every direction.

The music changed to a lilting burlesque strip rhythm.

Rose turned the vibrator off and laid it on the white velvet love sofa behind her, then turned again towards the audience, her loose sagging armor of aged skin rippled and shimmered in the contrasting lights as she bent one arm out in front of her, palm up, and with her other hand tugged each finger free of the long white glove, then she went through the same motions with the other glove.

She coiled both gloves together around one hand forming a kind of cloth cylinder which she pulled off and tossed onto the sofa.

Her fingers with trimmed snow-white nails seemed to automatically descend along her thighs in some shivery, erotic feeling.  Drawing them up again to her waist she gave us a young, fresh pretty smile, the kind of smile a schoolgirl gives from a passing bus, I thought: refreshing, not coy or manipulative.

Coming closer stage front, she touched one strap of her bra, winked,  pulled it down, touched the other strap, winked, pulled it down too, and removed the bra to hoist it at the audience where a man caught it and held it to his nose all the rest of the show as if it were a much needed oxygen mask.

Next she stepped out of her shoes and unhooked her stockings from her garter belt. She rolled one stocking down, balled it up and threw it towards the audience but it fell  some feet away at the foot of the stage. Next she rolled down the other stocking, balled it up and carried it to the very edge of the stage where she picked up the first stocking  and flung both out of her hands like freeing a flurry of doves. I saw the arms of several men in the front row flail about for the heavenly blessings.

Twirling towards her shoes, she gracefully stepped into first one, then the other , and spun  again and again till she reached the sofa where she landed and flung up her legs to very slowly begin peeling off her panties.

As she struggled to remove them the loose thigh flesh draping her mons flapped back, exposing a very bald slit. Finally she got her panties down to her shoes and off the tips of the heels; then as she held them out free and sat up, several loud pops from her vagina boxed our ears.

But she rose lightly, almost angelically, and whirled her panties with a flourish at the audience. The couple in front caught them at the same time Pete descended on them. There was a brief tug of war --with Pete the winner. He passed them to me. I smelled them quickly, warily, then passed them to Pip. They had a  vinegary-sweet odor I had never smelled before. Little pleasant darts entered my penis. How surprising!

Next she removed her garter belt, and holding it between two fingers, peered around as if looking for someone. She gave a quick whistle.

In trotted a German Shepherd who took it between his teeth and trotted off, tail wagging. Loud applause.

Rose took up the vibrator, switched it on and glided it over her outer arms. She continued to dance and sway as another announcement broke through the music,  first in Italian, then English: "Ladies and Gentlemen. We warn you. Cover yourself at the crucial moment if you don't want to get soaked.  Thank you."

The music surged in again. It had changed to a waltz tempo.

Rose smiled that lovely smile again, and brought the vibrator first to one nipple, then to the other, but they kept rolling away from her so loose and large, but flat and unwieldy her breasts--like a pair of cooking mitts. She finally had to sit back on the sofa and gather each breast up and hold the nipple to the vibrator that way. She closed her eyes, feeling much pleasure. Next she took up the soft cloth cylinder she had made of her gloves and gently slid her penis-like buzzer in and out of it, winking, tantalizing us.

Suddenly a dark, oily Italian rushed in with a towel, (need I say the color was white?) and spread it under her buttocks. She nodded her thanks. He bowed, swiped the gloves. stuffed them into his pants, but before he could get away she goosed him. He looked out at the audience,  worked his eyes up and down Groucho Marx style, then walked off.

Someone shouted, "Screw the nympho!"

Leaning back she spread her legs wide and circled the vibrator lightly around her cunt and down her inner thighs, ignoring the flabby,  child-scarred belly rolling louvres over her hands.

She leafed her cunt hole open with two fingers and gently poked the tip of the vibrator around in it. As she removed the vibrator, her cunt lips seemed to lazily coalesce.  Yes, a dry pussy. She reached into a crevice of the sofa and brought out a jar of Vaseline which she rubbed over her cunt and smeared over the head of the vibrator.Then she leaned back with her legs spread wide, and rested her head against the sofa. She placed the tip of the vibrator directly on her clit. Her eyes fluttered,then closed dreamily.

All of a sudden the music ceased. The only sound now the throaty buzzing of the vibrator--and an occasional whimper, a sigh, a mild groan from Rose White.

I studied her face. From her various expressions many fantasies must have been building in her mind. She licked her lips like tasting sugar, bit the lower lip with a determined look, dropped her jaws then blissfully closed them, as if somebody had just stuck a  lollipop into her mouth ,flared her nostrils, and sometimes moved her feet and wiggled her toes--either for comfort or in pleasure.

Then bringing the tip of the vibrator down to the flared petals of her cunt she slowly skewered the whole thing in and fucked herself in and out with several shallow strokes, followed by three or four deep thrusts--the last of which she didn't bring back,  but held way up in her somewhere, causing her legs to convulse so high in the air and with such intensity her perfectly gray and virgin-looking butt hole extruded inside out, mocking us like a meaty stuck out tongue.

Letting her feet drop again to the floor, she pulled the vibrator out. Her hips jerked once, twice, then as she sank lower into the sofa and re-inserted the vibrator, jerked again --the flesh of her belly and thighs so loose it literally careened and slammed into itself with sharp slapping sounds. Suddenly her thighs jammed together, one over the other, then instantly split wide open again like a watermelon smashed by an axe as she gave a piercing yelp! --and that's when I heard it, heard it before I saw it: the whoosh whoosh of a fountain when first turned on.  The main load hit the floor in crashing thumps, then leveled off into spurting jets which sprayed across the hysterical audience.

This was the first time I had ever seen a woman ejaculate. I had read about the phenomenon, became skeptical, and never thought much about it until now. It comes out through the woman's pee hole opening as well as her vagina, Pete explained later that evening. He said it's caused by pressure on the G-Spot.

"My Wild Irish Rose" began to filter through the loudspeaker, the lights dimmed. Rose lay exhausted, like a lifeless rag doll, with arms and legs flung across the drenched sofa.

I turned to Mike. "Rose sure was something, but what's with the white motif, besides her last name being  White.?"

Pip jumped on the answer: "First original meaning of the word 'white' is from the Saxon language, It meant translucent, viscous  fluid surrounding the yoke of an egg. Translucent, viscous fluid--get it?"

"Ah, yes" I said, contemplating the symbolism.

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From Crucibles of Passion, copyright(c) 2000 by Ronald Jones, alias candycrier. LIKE OR DISLIKE the excerpts from this book posted on this site? Go directly to amazon.com/kindle/cruciblesofpassion  and write a review.