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Teaching Millie She's Hot, Part VI: On Stage

His shy, fat wife dances in a totally-nude strip club and breaks all the rules
The poker game wasn't necessary to make her go to the strip club, as it turned out. We still played for chores and for fun, but Millie was so into submission now, she'd do anything I said just because I told her to.

Millie was submissive out of sheer devotion to me. Ever since I made her go to Chicas Grandes beach in her G-string bikini, scared to death and crying, and she discovered that I wasn't the only one who thought she was a hottie--well, she'd do anything I said.

The first time I took Millie to Chubbies wasn't all that memorable. On the way there, I told her that the fat-girl strip club was part of my original plan; after her trip to the beach, I was going to take her there to show her how much guys appreciate girls with lots of curves.

"Why didn't you?" she asked. She was sitting beside me in the car, dressed to give guys hard-ons--wearing a short, tight, incredibly low-cut dress that threatened to spill her four gallons of tits at any second.

"It wasn't necessary," I said.

She giggled. "Yeah, I guess I figured that out by the time I fingered myself off naked in front of everybody."

Chubbies was an upscale club; the furnishings and appointments were first-class, with comfortable armchairs at low tables and subdued, though not dark, lighting. The place was almost full.

When we got there, the waiter walked into a chair while he was taking us to our table; he was watching my wife's foot-and-a-half of pale, quivering cleavage and not where he was going. By the time we sat down, more eyes were on Millie than on the naked fat girl on the stage.

She was cute and plump, swinging from the pole in high-heeled sandals and a headband and nothing else. She was shaking her babyfat C-cups and pumping her hairy pussy for the customers, but with Millie in the room she might as well have been reading the paper in a raincoat.

I saw a few guys elbowing each other as they stared and mouthing the word "curvy," and I knew they'd seen the magazines. We ordered drinks--Scotch straight up for me, a wine cooler for Millie--and the manager was at our table before the drinks were served.

"I'm told we have a celebrity in the house," he said with a smile, talking to Millie's tits. "Aren't you Millie O'Rourke?"

She nodded, her cheeks pink. "That's me," she said. "I guess you've seen my pictures?"

He grinned and nodded. "I sure have. You're beautiful." Millie glowed and smiled--at me.

He turned to me. "And you must be Jeff, the lucky husband." (My name had been mentioned in Millie's interview.) He offered a hand, and I shook it. "I'm Norm Peters, and I own this place."

"Have a seat and join us," I said, indicating a chair. He did, and I said, "You must be a chubby-lover too."

"You got that right," he said, grinning. "I always wished there was a place like this, and I always thought one would make money, so I decided to start my own."

"And does it?" I asked.

He grinned. "I drive a Bentley. We do all right."

"I guess that blurb in CURVY helped," I observed.

He rolled his eyes. "Incredible," he said. "We were doing great even before that, but since then we've been packed every night. On weekends, it's reservations only now."

He turned to Millie. Straight to the point, he was. He looked at her--her face, this time, though it must have been an effort--and asked, "Millie, would you like a job?" He nodded at the stage. "I'll pay you a thousand dollars a night to dance here."

Her big blue eyes got bigger, and her mouth fell open. The manager waited for an answer. She looked at me.

"I want her to dance naked on your stage," I said. "Once. After that, we'll see how it goes."

His eyes widened. "It's true, then," he said. "She does whatever you tell her."

"Tell him, Millie," I said. I felt like showing off a little. I didn't know what she was going to say, but I knew it would be good.

It was. "If Jeff told me to strip buck naked in your parking lot and wash cars with my tits, I'd do it," she said.

Peters just say there for a moment, stunned. Finally, looking at Millie's chest, he said, "Well, by God, they'd be damned clean..."

We all laughed at that, and Millie asked, "When can I do it? Dance, I mean?"

Peters looked at me, and I shrugged. "I expect you'll want to do a little advertising," I said.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would." He thought for a moment. "We'll take reservations and charge extra."

He looked at Millie's tits again. "A lot extra. Will you sign autographs, like on your magazines, Millie? You can charge for it."

"She'll do that for free," I said. "No point in bleeding her fans dry. She likes them. Right, Millie?" She smiled brightly and nodded.

"Can I do it naked?" she asked.

"Jesus," said Peters.

"I just think they should get to see me naked up close." She shrugged, and her tits rippled like a waterbed and almost fell out of her dress. We were not having this conversation unobserved, and I heard at least five voices around us say "Holy Christ," "God Almighty," "Allahu Akbar," and other such religiously-oriented remarks.

"We'll work something out," said Peters. He was sweating.
---

Three weeks later, the night of Millie's performance finally came. She had been, you should pardon the expression, milking it for days.

"I can't believe you're making me do this, Jeff," she said as I was shaving her pussy that afternoon. "I have to dance stark naked on stage and show everything I've got to a crowd of men I don't even know..." she shivered.

"Hold still, baby," I said. "You don't want to do it with little bits of toilet paper stuck all over your pussy." I was shaving her with a blade. She wanted her cunt to be slick bald, without a hint of stubble.

I had heard that same kind of excited protest for more than a week. "You're going to make me show them my asshole?" she'd whimper, and I'd cruelly respond, "And squeeze it for 'em in the spotlight, Big Tits." She'd squeal in horror and her pussy would drip fucking-juice. She was hot enough to melt a lead dildo by the time that night came around.

We had picked out what she would wear very carefully--such as it was. As I got her ready, she was all but vibrating with excitement. She had to put a washcloth on her pussy to absorb her fluids, or her dress would have been soaked when she sat down; and she had to change it twice before we actually got to the club.

We went in the back. There was a huge crowd in front of the club, of guys who thought they were going to get in without a reservation. Some of them were pretty pissed off. Peters was out front talking to them with a couple of bouncers beside him. It looked pretty tense.

They had good reason, I guess. Out in front of the club were huge posters of Millie's magazine covers, with "ONE NIGHT ONLY!" signs above or below them--and "SOLD OUT" across those. The date had been advertised in the papers and by flyers on the street for more than a week, but it looked like several hundred guys didn't intend to be turned away.

The magazine covers were being used with permission; CURVY had sent a team of photographers out, and a couple of videographers as well. They were going to do a big feature on it and make a video, too.

My cell phone rang as we pulled behind the club. It was Peters; he had seen our car going around to the back. "You got to help me out here, Jeff," he said. "We're about to have a riot on our hands. See if Millie will give a show tomorrow night and the next. It's the only way these guys are going to go home." I could hear angry voices in the background.

"Five times the fee we agreed on, Norm," I said. "That's going to be hard on her."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Will she do it?"

"She will." I hung up.

"Who was that?" asked Millie. I smiled at her.

"Are you scared, Millie? Are you embarrassed? Are you dreading getting up there on stage stark naked and shaking your tits and ass and shaved pussy in front of a crowd of strangers?"

She shivered, and I knew that that third washcloth was probably soaked. "Yes, Jeffie, but I'm going to do it... You're making me do it..." She was so close to coming, I knew what was about to happen. I waited till she was out of the car.

"You're going to do it three nights in a row," I said, as brutally and imperiously as I could.

She came so hard she almost fainted. I held her up and helped her walk into the club. She was still so hot, even after her orgasm, she recovered quickly and was still shivering with excitement as we went in the back door.

"Oh, God, Jeff, I'm really here--I really have to do it--"

"You sure do, Big Tits," I said. We went backstage. "Let's take a peek out front." I knew what she was about to walk out into, but she didn't, and I didn't want her to faint when she first went out onto the stage.

We went to the edge of the stage, and I peeked out from behind the curtain; then I gestured for Millie to do the same.

She did, and gasped longer and louder than I ever heard her. "Oh... My... God..." Her hand went to her pussy involuntarily.

The place was jammed, probably beyond legal capacity, but Peters had told me that a few cops and safety inspectors had been given free tickets to take care of that. There were more tables than had been there before, crowded in around the stage and the runway--and beyond those, bleachers had been set up. They were all packed with guys, every single space.

Norm would be paying Millie $25,000 for her three nights. Fuck him. He could afford it. I knew he was getting $500 a seat for the tables near the stage, $300 for the rest, and $150 for the bleacher seats--and there were probably five or six hundred guys out there.

It was almost eight o'clock, time for the show. Millie and I were in her dressing room, and she was trembling with tension--fear, excitement, and extreme embarrassment. Her favorite way to feel, in other words. "Now you remember everything we talked about last week, right?" She nodded, her big blue eyes bright, her chubby cheeks rosy pink.

She was going to kill these guys, I thought. Sweet baby face, chubby-curvy body of a plump angel, the breasts of a tit-man's stoned wet dreams, and obviously scared to death. I was glad of the ten or twelve big, ugly bouncers that Peters had seated around the stage.

He stuck his head in. "Five minutes, Millie," he said, and winked. She gave him a brave smile, then laid a kiss on me that made the hair on my balls stand up.

"Thank you, Jeffie," she whispered. "I love you so much. And I love you even more for making me do this."

She took twenty seconds to fix her slutty lipstick in the mirror, then headed for the dressing-room door. "Break a leg," I said.

She looked at me like I had turned green. "Huh?"

"Old theater superstition," I said. "It means, 'good luck.' I'll explain later."

"Oh. Okay." and then she swept out.

I hurried to my seat at ringside just as a funky, sexual rock-and-roll beat began to pound through the club, and Millie stepped out onto the stage. The applause, cheers, and whistles were deafening.

Small wonder. Millie was not wearing the conventional stripper's gold-lame evening gown; she was wearing a stoplight-red, thigh-high dress made of a thin, clingy knit--with, quite apparently, nothing on under it. Her enormous, pointed milkers were swinging and wobbling loosely, and her swollen softball-sized nipples with their cocktail-sausage tips were clearly outlined. Even the depression that was her navel was lovingly hugged by the clinging fabric, and when she turned around, her big, fabulously round and full asscheeks jiggled and bounced deliciously. The dress revealed her curvy, bare white legs to mid-thigh, and their quivering bare flesh held promise of things to come.

Those who were paying attention to details might have noticed three things: First, the dress buttoned up both the front and the back. Second, there were almost invisible nylon monofilament threads trailing from the dress to backstage. And third, she was barefoot.

I doubt that many noticed. Millie looked frightened and shy, which of course was incredibly sexy. Her eyes were wide and almost panicked, she was biting her lip, her dimpled chin was trembling, and her pretty, chubby hands were visibly shaking.

I knew it wasn't an act; posing in front of two professionals in a photo studio was one thing, but this was something else. The crowd was staring at her avidly, hungrily, and howling to see her flesh. She looked scared to death.

Millie began dancing to the driving beat immediately, showing off her 200-plus pounds of quivering fat, wriggling and bumping, bouncing and shaking everything she had, still with that terrified expression on her pretty baby face. The guys cheered and whistled, and I saw the photographers from CURVY doing their thing. There were five of them; there would be hundreds of shots for the editors to choose from for the magazine spread.

Millie hunched and wiggled and shook her big tits--but I knew what she could do, and she hadn't begun to cut loose yet. Her pretty, plump bare feet moved on the stage hesitantly, and she seemed reluctant to go out on the runway. Finally, she began to work that way, but very slowly.

As. Millie continued to dance without removing anything, the crowd began to mutter. By the time she had reached the end of the runway, out in the middle of the crowd, the muttering had become louder. "Take something off!" came a cry, and when Millie nervously shook her head, there were a few scattered boos. She looked incredibly sexy in the clingy, revealing dress, but these guys had not paid $300-$500 to see a dress. They wanted to see her pale, bare skin. All of it.

The beat continued to drum through the club like a rapid pulse. Millie was dancing about five feet from me; my table was right beside the end of the runway, one of the best seats in the house. I shared it with a photographer from the magazine. She looked down at me and gave me a nervous smile, then bit her lip in anticipation and held her arms out, as if for balance. She wriggled and shook some more. The chorus of boos was building.

Holding her arms out was the signal. Suddenly, with shocking abruptness, the invisible threads drew tight, the Velcro dots behind the faux buttons on the back and front of her dress gave way, and--

The effect was that Millie was dancing in the red jersey dress one second, and the next she was totally naked. The dress split apart, whipped away in an eyeblink, and disappeared backstage, and my plump and radiantly beautiful Millie was left there, all the way out at the end of the runway, in nothing but her pink-and-white bare skin. She was as naked as a newborn baby, from her pretty toes to her blushing face.

The crowd went loudly nuts. Millie squealed in horror and tried to cover herself; they hooted and cheered and whistled and laughed as she tried to find a way to hide her enormous swinging tits and her fat, hairless pussy with her bare little hands.

Millie cowered in apparent fear for just another moment, shivering all over--but her eyes were narrow slits, not wide with panic, and I saw her fat white thighs squeeze together in a way I knew.

Millie was no doubt scared and embarrassed and shocked at her sudden, complete and publicly displayed nudity--but she was also coming.

After a few more seconds, she began to dance again, and the roar of the watching crowd grew louder. She closed her eyes and spread her bare feet wide apart and crouched--

And as she began to bump and grind to the music, exhibiting her bare, shaved pussy, the roar suddenly lessened and took on a growling, animal quality.

Every man in the place saw the gleaming slickness between her thighs and her red and swollen pussy lips. They might not have figured out that she just came, but that she was sexually aroused, there was no doubt.

Millie squatted lower and stuck it out, and if anyone had missed it, they didn't now. Millie's fat cunt was flaring open, and the redness of her glistening, gaping hole contrasted with her milk-white flesh like a stoplight in the snow. Her huge, pink aureolae were swelling as well, turning a darker pink as she stroked and fondled and shook her huge bare tits out on the brightly lit stage.

She finally fell back into a total squat, bare feet planted wide and leaning back on her hands, exposing her naked crotch to the max. Her tits swing to the sides, but were still astonishingly firm; they did not sag to her armpits, but stood out full and pointed even as she bent back and lifted her fat ass and waved her naked pussy at the crowd. She was still bumping and hunching lewdly to the music, her big bare ass wobbling like white Jell-O as it quivered beneath her.

A little liquid drooled from her bare cunt and dripped onto the stage. The crowd went wild again, and Millie moaned and flipped over onto her hands and knees.

As we watched, Millie made her massive milkers swing and dangle wildly as she hunched and rolled her big bare ass in time to the music. She crawled around the stage like that, making sure everybody got a good, long look at her four gallons of hanging, lewdly waggling tit-meat, her fat bare ass, and her hairless, gleaming pussy.

My naked fat girl was amazing everyone, including me. Millie's pretty round face was red with both embarrassment and arousal, and as she crawled around and shook I saw her orgasming again.

So did everyone else. They cheered and whooped as Millie arched her back and shivered with it, fat ass quivering and eyes shut tight. She didn't even try to hide it. Her pretty hands grasped blindly at the stage, and she looked around her, squint-eyed and grimacing, at the howling crowd as she gasped and quivered and came naked in front of them all.

She swung her tits, brushing the hardwood stage with her nipples, and she grimaced and shuddered in her orgasm as the audience cheered her on. Finally, instead of standing up right away, she crawled around till her huge, pale ass was turned toward the crowd--then lifted and planted first one bare, fat leg, then the other, till she was in an outrageous, wide-open squat, still bent over with her hands on the floor.

The view was mind-blowing. Her bare feet planted flat and wide apart, her plump legs bent outward, her huge ass split open wide, her bald, swollen, glistening cunthole gaping open and drooling fuck-me fluid to the stage, and her enormous, long, full milkers dangling bare to her fat pink nipples dragging on the floor.

If it hadn't been for the cheers and whistles, I'd have bet you could have heard cum spurting from the cocks of half the goggling audience.

Millie grabbed the pole and squatted lower and came again, sticking out her fat shaved cunt and showing off her squeezing, fluttering, squelching hole as her pussy-cum drooled and swung in strings and drips from it. She shivered and jerked and jiggled all over, fat and pale and naked to her pretty toes.

Millie had only just started.

She began to dance again, slowly rising, but still showing off her dripping, bare, fat cunthole from behind as she pulled herself upright hand-over-hand on the pole and bumped and hunched and ground her hips as obscenely as she could.

Finally, she was standing, the pole lost between her tits as she clung to it and pumped her fat bare ass like she was being fucked, legs wide apart. She leaned back and crouched then, and slammed her pretty pussy into the pole and began to squat and straighten, rubbing her wet pussy lips against the pole, making it shine with her juices as she dragged her bare clit up and down--and came again, of course.

The crowd had grown quieter, watching with an air of gaping, eager wonder. No one had ever seen a pole dancer like Millie before. She ground her open hole against the pole hungrily, shuddering and shaking, loose tits waggling, bare feet shifting as she worked her way around the pole to make sure everybody saw.

Finally, she let it go and began to dance around it, wriggling wildly, giving it her all as only my Miliie can. Her huge ass was shaking like pale Jell-O, her two-gallons-each tits flopping heavily and flying high, her quivering belly flexing as she hunched and shook every fat white inch of her naked body for the crowd. The cheers and whistles began again, and Millie bit her lip in red-faced arousal and embarrassment as she hunched and wiggled naked for the mob.

Millie crouch-walked awkwardly around the stage with her hands behind her head, shaking and tossing everything she had, bumping so hard she was slinging cunt-juice into the audience. She did everything she'd ever done for me in our private bedroom--and more--out on that spotlit stage, as naked as a baby in front of hundreds of staring, drooling men. Even the bouncers had forgotten to watch the crowd. I couldn't blame them. Fuck the crowd; they wanted to watch Millie.

She leaned forward and swung and shook her giant tits, pulling at her huge nipples with her hands and coming yet again. She bent over and pulled her asscheeks wide apart and squeezed her sweet pink asshole in the spotlight like I'd told her to, sticking it out and showing it off without a thought for grace or style--only working hard to make sure everyone saw her clenching, puckering asshole, displayed openly above her drooling cunt. She faced them then and squatted low on her plump pink toes, stuck out her bare-shaved pussy, and stretched it open wide with both pretty, chubby hands--a sweet and terrified expression of violated modesty on her red face as she exposed her gleaming inner membranes and her swollen, shiny clit. They howled and laughed at her embarrassment, and she blushed even redder.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes and pulled the pale flesh back from her bare, red clit, making it protrude obscenely--and then she worked her cuntmuscles for the crowd and made it wiggle.

I had told her she had to do that, and she did. And she came again, and all the staring men saw her clit expand and pulse as she wiggled it in their faces and came hard at her lewd exposure. Her stretched-open cunthole was squeezing convulsively, fiery-red against her milk-white skin and drooling strings of fuck-me juice to the floor between her bare, arched feet.

Millie posed and danced, alternating between the two, for most of an hour. She was so hot, she may as well have been drugged. She sucked her toes and sucked her tits, she belly-danced and did the Chinese splits, she lifted up her tits by her stretched-out nipples and looked out at the men from between them, she even masturbated openly with two pretty fingers and looked every man in the place right in the eye as she came, over and over. She looked me in the eye, too, and gave me a gasping, desperate little smile before she grimaced and came again.

There was no need for oil. Millie was glistening with sweat from head to toe, and pussy-juice was running down her bare, fat legs all the way to her pretty bare feet. The sweet, funky scent of her hot, fat cunthole was coming from the stage in waves, and grew stronger every time she came. She posed and wiggled and swung and shook her tits, up on the stage so fat and cute and stark naked--as pale and smooth as milk and as bare and gleaming as a dick about to fuck her.

There were at least five hundred dicks in that room that longed to do just that, but only one would get to--and that one was mine. I felt like God, or a King showing off his slave girl to taunt the masses.

Millie grabbed the pole and crouched and did something I'd never seen before; she began to shudder, deliberately, making her whole fat white body quiver and jiggle outrageously from her bare feet to her pixie-cut short hair. She rippled and shook all over, and she slowly circled the pole so everyone could see from every angle.

Millie began to do deep-knee bends, still making herself shudder and shake, showing off her quivering fat pussy and her jiggling, wide-open, fleshy thighs. She rocked her fat hips back and forth, and bounced heavily on her heels, still showing every ounce of her luscious fat in quivering, rippling motion. Her enormous tits were waggling liquidly, four gallons of sweet white milkshake being shaken to a froth, her fat pink faucets vibrating at their tips.

She turned around, leaned back, and held the pole above her head and behind her; then she half-squatted and did a perfect impression of being fucked. She jerked herself an inch or two upward with the repeated, imaginary impacts of a pounding, plunging cock, tits shaking with the force of them, eyes closed and mouthing "Fuck me.... Fuck me..." as she pretended to be hammered by my driving, sliding dick. Every man there saw what I saw when I gave her what she wanted.

She hunched and fucked her heavy hips, crouching lower and spreading her fat bare legs for it, still shaking rhythmically with the imaginary fucking. The crowd loved it, and when she shivered and jerked in a real, pussy-dripping orgasm again, you could have sworn there was an invisible man shooting in her hole as she hunched back at him and came.

She squatted then, bare pussy gaping and drooling, and scooped up three fingers full of her juices and slurped it up, sucking her fingers while looking out shyly at the crowd. They cheered themselves hoarse.

She wasn't done. I nodded to her and jerked my head toward backstage, and she shivered and ran, naked and jiggling, up the runway and disappeared backstage. There were groans of disappointment, though I feel sure every man there felt he'd gotten his money's worth; I doubt there was a dry pair of shorts in the place.

But before anyone could leave his seat, a spotlight speared the darkened club and lit up the side of the stage where Millie had disappeared. Every eye was focused there--and then Millie came back out.

There were cheers and whoops and whistles, and once again Millie's cute, round baby face held an expression of embarrassment, arousal, and fear.

She was still barefoot and stark naked--and she was walking awkwardly, bare feet wide apart, knees bent--

Millie was pumping an enormous dildo in and out of her fat, shaved, thrust-forward and exposed and spotlit pussy. That kind of public insertion show was illegal, I knew, but everyone who would arrest her was in the room watching--and rubbing their cocks through their pants. Besides, anyone who tried to stop the show would have instantly been torn limb from limb by the crowd.

Millie worked her way out onto the runway again, sliding that huge rubber cock in and out of her fat, shaved hole in front of the staring crowd--but that wasn't lewd and humiliating enough. She had two heavy cowbells tied to her swollen nipples for extra stimulation, and her huge tits were pulled into long, fat, tapering rocket shapes, her nipples stretched. Into long pink cones. She was still trying to dance to the funky sexual beat, and the tonka-tonka sound of her clunking cowbells sounded incredibly obscene.

She crouch-walked out to the end of the runway, pumping her juicy pale cunt at every step, her cowbells jerking and bouncing and swinging heavily--and then she grabbed the pole with one hand and braced one bare foot high on it, completely exposing her pale, bald crotch, and began to slide that big black dildo all the way in and all the way out, as openly as possible.

My innocent-faced Millie crouched on one fat, bare leg and hunched and came, bouncing her heavy cowbells with her hardworking arm as she fucked herself off naked and wide open for the staring mob. She was struggling to keep her blue eyes open, staring out at the crowd that thrilled and scared and embarrassed her all at once and made her fight to keep from cumming hard before them, and lose, and lose, and lose again.

I had told her what to do, and she was doing it.

After hopping around the pole on one bare foot--you can't imagine what that looked like--to make sure everyone saw her spasming, dripping, deeply impaled hole and cruelly heavy, swinging cowbells, Millie squatted on the edge of the stage and began to bounce on her dildo, jacking it off with her exposed fat cunt and making her stretched-out tits get yanked and milked and pulled as the cowbells bounced and clanked and clattered. Of course she came again--and again, and again...

She rose up for a moment, and centered the big dildo on her teeny pink asshole, to cheers and howls of lust--

No one but Millie and I knew; this would be her very first anal penetration. I wanted her to take it squatting naked in the spotlight in front of a staring crowd, with cowbells on her nipples and a thousand men's eyes on her tender, secret, stretching sphincter.

She sank down on the dildo, mouth and eyes open wide, feeling her virgin asshole get opened up in a public display. The expression on her sweet, round baby face was priceless; she looked frightened, hugely embarrassed, horrified that this enormous crowd of strangers was watching her take a dildo up her asshole for the first time, and on the edge of orgasm, all at once.

She squatted lower and lower till her fat ass was almost down on the stage, and the dildo was in her all the way to the base. As I had ordered, she peeled her fat white cunt wide open in the spotlights and exhibited her swollen, red, and sloppy-wet hole to everyone as she rose toward yet another public naked orgasm, and she kept holding it open as she came, with fuck-me juice drooling from her squeezing, spasming pussy and dripping down onto the base of the dildo up her ass. She was forbidden to close her eyes, and she had to look back at the hundreds of howling, grinning men as she showed them all her orgasming pussy, her stretched-out and deeply impaled anus, and her stretched-out, swollen-to-bursting red nipples, bare to her pretty toes.

And then she stood up and began to dance naked with a dildo up her ass and cowbells hanging from her knobs.

She turned and bent over and showed off the dildo, her clunking cowbells almost on the floor and an inch of thick black stump sticking out of her red, taut ring of violated anal hole. She fingered her bare pussy under it, exposing her fat red clit with one pretty hand and pulling and popping it openly with the other. She stood up straight and began to wiggle around the stage, cowbells clanking, holding that dildo up her ass "no hands."

Speaking of "no hands," I thought....

I placed my beer bottle on the edge of the stage, and I pushed it forward slightly. Millie saw it, and did as she had been ordered; she hunch-danced over to it, crouched, and as the crowd whooped and cheered, she impaled her pussy on its long neck--and then picked it up, with her hands behind her head.

She struggled to hold onto it as she carried it around the stage, fat legs cocked outward, crouch-walking awkwardly, still hunching her fat ass to swing and toss the bottle, shaking her huge tits and clanking her heavy cowbells.

I hadn't made it easy for her; the bottle was full. I don't like beer.

She finally brought it back and set it down before me, and as the crowd cheered, I lifted it to my mouth and took a long drink. The taste of Millie's pussy I DO like.

At least another dozen bottles instantly appeared on the stage, and at a nod from me, Millie blushed, ashamed, and then went around and picked up every one, swung it for a moment from her fat, shaved pussy, then set it down again. More bottles kept appearing, and thus went on for quite some time. Poor Millie's fat bare legs were trembling with fatigue as she kept squatting and standing, but her clenching pussy never got tired. She clamped down on one stranger's beer after another and picked it up, showing off the strength of her fucking-muscles "no hands" as the crowd whooped and cheered her on.

Fat, naked Millie was horribly embarrassed and humiliated, and was loving every second of it. About every third or fourth bottle, she came, and when she rose up after dropping it, she left the mouth and neck of the bottle thickly coated with her pussy-juice--which the grinning strangers sucked and licked up eagerly.

I finally beckoned Millie over and gestured, giving her permission to take her cowbells off. Too much of that might give her those stretchmarks that that gay guy, Alex, couldn't find. She took them off, and her poor abused nipples stood out again, swollen to grapefruit size, their fat tips long and red.

Millie stood there naked with a dildo up her ass, waiting; she knew what was coming--but I had a surprise for her.

I handed her another dildo. She took it, and stared at it, and then at me, and then out at the crowd, in shock and horror. She looked at me pleadingly and shook her head, but I nodded, once, slowly, and she bit her lip and nodded back, her eyes wet with fear and humiliation.

It was a new dildo, bigger than the biggest one she owned; coal-black, three fingers thick, and almost two feet long. But that wasn't enough for me; nine little "fingers" of red rubber dangled from it, from three French ticklers spaced evenly apart below the lemon-sized head. As Millie looked at me, still pleading with her big blue eyes, I mouthed, "Don't come," then nodded toward the pole.

My fat, buck naked wife moved over to the pole, tits wagging, then leaned back against it, facing the crowd, and squatted with her bare tits and cunt sticking out. She bit her lip and looked out at the crowd shamefaced as she began to work that obscenely tricked-out monster dildo into her fat naked hole, the stump of the other still protruding lewdly from her asshole.

The gaping crowd whistled and hollered encouragment as Millie whimpered and moaned, working hard to fuck herself off naked in front of them all. First one, then two, then all three of the French ticklers disappeared inside her. Her tender pussy was already stretched to the max by the enormous girth of the huge black dildo, and she had to work hard, even as cum-soft and slippery-wet as her cunt was, to cram those nasty-looking rubber fingers in.

Then she began to pump it in and out.

The spectacle was incredible. Millie's agonized, grimacing face, so sweet, so pretty, so distorted by the outrageous stimulation of her sensitive pussy; her gigantic, wobbling, liquidly swinging tits and double-fist-sized nipples; her quivering, fat, white, widespread thighs and plump pale belly; and that jaw-dropping dildo, pistoning in and out of her fat shaved pussy with the ticklers flipping and flapping and splaying out as she fucked herself off, bare naked on the stage.

Millie was soon gasping and gaping in shockingly intense sexual heat, her sweet rosebud mouth hanging open and literally drooling spit as she pumped her pussy with that cunt-destroying rubber cock. She was stark naked and gleaming with sweat, red-faced and ashamed as she reamed herself out in front of the mob.

She was already fighting back her orgasm, desperately trying to keep from coming. I knew she'd never make it; I knew what one tickler did to her on my big dick--I couldn't imagine what three, poking and digging and twisting around inside her swollen fucking tube on that gigantic rubber cock, were making her feel.

My fat, naked Millie pumped her exposed hole with that obscene rubber monster for twenty minutes, till she was crying like a baby from the struggle not to come. She kept looking at me and begging with her eyes for permission, but I kept shaking my head.

Finally, I gestured, and she knew what to do. Millie rolled onto her back and stick her bare feet up in the air, her fat white legs open wide and her huge tits in her face, and she started slamming that black rubber cock in and out of her blatantly exposed hole with both hands. The black stump of the other dildo protruded lewdly from her ass; the crowd had largely forgotten about that, but now it was in their faces.

They grew silent at last, sensing that something special was about to happen. In the silence, the smacking, splattering sound of that decorated dildo plunging in and out of Millie's fat bare cunt was loud--and so were Millie's desperate whimpers and moans. The ticklers flipped and waggled wildly as she pumped, staring slit-eyed at the mob over her enormous tits. She was stabbing that cruel monster in and out like she was trying to saw herself in half, gasping and squealing, pretty bare toes clenched into tiny white fists. Her fat bare ass rippled with the impacts, and she was shaking all over, every square inch of her luscious, pale fat exposed and in quivering motion.

Finally, she arched forward, her head and fat ass rising from the stage as she curled into a tense and jiggling ball of impending super-orgasm.

Her tits slid out to the sides, her fat pink knobs swolllen to the max and her long sausagelike tips vibrating with her masturbation. She began to make a high, keening sound, and the funky smell of her hungry cunthole grew suddenly stronger.

Suddenly, she cried out in a high voice: "I'm gonna COME! I'm gonna come HARD! W-watch me COME, everybody! I'm NAKED on STAGE and I'm c-c-c-"

She got no farther. Millie basically exploded, gritting her teeth and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, pumping her huge dildo with blinding speed and pumping her fat white legs as if to make it go faster. All the way in and all the way out, five times a second, her little fists a blur as she gushed pussy-cum in the spotlight.

I had never seen Millie squirt before, but her girl-cum sprayed into the air and splattered on her open thighs, over her tits, and onto the stage all around her, scattered by her blindingly fast pumping. She rolled up tighter and tighter as she came harder and harder, grunting like an animal and grimacing with the intensity of her colossal orgasm. She began to scream wordlessly; I had never seen her do that before either. She wailed and shrieked like the dildo was made of white-hot steel.

Millie pumped her hole superfast and came and sprayed cunt-juice and came and quivered all over and came and screamed and came for most of a full minute. I had never seen her come so hard and so long and so violently.

She finally collapsed, as I knew she would. She fell back onto the stage, as limp as a wet string. She lay there unconscious, her fat, bare arms and legs splayed open like a broken doll's, both of her dildos still hanging from her holes. She did not move. After a few brief, awestruck moments, the cheering and applause began.

Millie didn't see the ten-minute standing ovation she got as four of the bouncers carried her from the stage on a stretcher. She would see it later on the videotape as I made her watch it naked--and come again, over and over, just from watching what she did.

Backstage, I held Millie till she came to, just as the cheeing was beginning to subside. "Come on," I said. "You need to take a bow. Your fans want to thank you."

She was weak and shaky, but I helped her to her feet and to the edge of the stage. There I made her walk out into the spotlights once again, still naked and barefoot, and hold her swollen, red, distended pussy open and display it to the crowd as the cheering and clapping rose to a deafening level again. Millie smiled weakly and shook her tits a little as she crouched and held her hole open, her way of taking her bows. Finally, she staggered offstage to continued applause and cheering.

The speakers in the club announced, "Millie will be signing autographs in the lobby in a few minutes. She's NOT going to get dressed, and she's agreed to allow anyone who gets her autograph to feel her bare tits. The line is forming now." There was a mad rush to the lobby, and the bouncers had to intervene to prevent a few fistfights when guys tried to cut in line.

By the time we came out, things were pretty well organized. The line circled the lobby three times, so everyone had a good view as they waited, and then led out onto the street.

There were two tables set up at different levels; Millie knelt naked on one, and leaned forward to sign magazines and pieces of paper on the other. Between them, her huge bare breasts dangled invitingly, and as she smiled and signed, each guy had a chance to feel and fondle them.

I had been a little worried, but none of them were rough with her. They touched her reverently, stroking her long, heavy tits gently, exploring her enormous nipples with their fingers tenderly, hefting them in their hands and shaking their heads in awe at the privilege.

Millie signed her most obscene naked pictures with autographs fitted to them:

"Don't you love my big swinging milkers? You got to feel them for real! Love and gallons of bare tits, Millie"

"Enjoy my bare open pussy as you jack off to me! Love and sloppy shaved cunt-meat, 'Shoot-It-To-Me' Millie"

"I'm your big fat naked fucking toy! Love and sperm-splattered rolls of hot fat, your chubby naked Millie"

"Wanna come play with my toys? Come feel my big bare tits and pull on my nipples! Oh, wait--you did! Love, Millie"

"I wish you could fuck me like this! I love it from behind! Love and juicy pussy squeezes on your squirting cock, Millie"

"I wish I could suck on your bare, hard dick! Think about me slobbering all over your spurting dickhead! Love, Millie"

"Squirt lots of cum to this one--I'll be dreaming of your hot sperm splattering all over my open hole! Love, Millie"

She knelt there naked for hours, writing filthy messages and letting hundreds of guys play with her bare, dangling milkers and tug on her long nipples. Every now and then she came, and she'd give the guy who did it a kiss right on the mouth and write "You made me COME!" next to her autograph in a big heart.

A lot of the guys came, too. Most of them had wet spots showing on their pants anyway, and more than a few shuddered and spasmed a little when they got their hands on Millie's sweetly hanging bare breast-meat. She'd giggle and wink at them when she saw it, and sometimes she'd reach out and give their cocks a little squeeze.

Kneeling as she was, with her fat thighs apart and leaning forward, everyone in the room could see her bare wet pussy hanging open as she worked. A few of the guys reached for it, but they were stopped by one of the two bouncers that stood by her.

We were there for hours. Millie insisted on writing a long, filthy message every time, to give her fans a chance to get a good long feel of her tits--and something to jack off to when they got home. The line moved slowly, but no one left..

Around 3 AM, the last guy finally got his autograph and his feel--and as a consolation prize for being last in line, Millie offered him her fat nipples to suck. He sucked them both and made her come twice--he was apparently pretty good at it--and on another page of his magazine, Millie wrote, "You made me come TWICE and I squeezed your bare dick!"

He read it and gaped at her. She just smiled at him--and gestured at his pants. He feverishly whipped his fly open and pulled it out, all of five inches long and hard as a fencepost, and--after looking at me for permission--Millie reached out and gave it a gentle squeeze and a little shake. He shot his load all over her plump white arm, and she giggled and kissed him.

What the hell. He was an old guy, kind of sad-looking, and he deserved it for waiting so long. He didn't look so sad when he left.

Millie wiped the cum from her arm with a Kleenex, and then gave me a long, sloppy French kiss that left me gasping.

"Thank you for making me do all this, Jeffie," she breathed into my mouth. "This was the scariest and most, best fun I ever had. I felt like a goddess."

"You are, Big Tits," I said. "You're the Goddess of Cum. I'll bet you'd have to measure the cum you pulled out of all those guys tonight in gallons."

She giggled tiredly, and we finally went back to her dressing room where she slipped into a robe I'd brought her to wear home.

She slept for twelve hours, and the little sex bomb--okay, the BIG sex bomb--came hard, once more, before she went to sleep.

I didn't touch her. I just reminded her that she had to do it all again the next night, and again the night after.

She shivered in her sleep every now and then. And smiled.

I love my Millie.
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