Skip to content This is part 2, for part 1: My Sister Gave Me a Lap Dance
*****
Alexis ran Velvet Rope and still looked like she could take a shift if the room got thin. Forty, dark blonde hair, the body of a woman who had danced for a decade and then bought the place. She hired me for the door at twenty-one because I was big and I did not drink on shift. When I finally said my sister wanted a tryout, Alexis did not shrug. She looked interested.
“Bring her in while we’re empty,” she said. “Daytime. I want to see her myself. If she’s got it, I need another girl for Friday. And Dean? I want you in the room. She’ll dance better if she’s trying to impress someone.”
I drove home with that sitting wrong. Maya was nineteen, already sure of herself, and I had just agreed to put her on a stage in front of my boss.
When I got back, she was in the kitchen when I got in. Mom was out.
“I held my promise. Alexis wants to see you today while the club’s empty. If you’re good, there’s a spot.”
Maya’s scroll stopped. “The manager?”
“Former dancer. She’ll know in one song if you’re wasting her time.”
“Then I need to be sure before she is.” Maya stepped in. “Will you be there?”
“Yes.”
“Good, I want to give you something afterward for being such a good brother.”
I drove her there, and the lot was empty. Alexis met us at the side door in heels and a black wrap that did nothing to hide what she used to sell. She looked Maya over once, tits, waist, the bag with the heels, and smiled like the tryout was already leaning yes.
They greeted each other. “Damn, girl, you look hot.”
“Thank you!” Maya said with a blush that made her look more like a porn star.”
“Dressing room’s yours. Dean, sit where the money sits.”
I showed Maya the dressing room and left her there. Out front the stage wash was on and the rest of the club was dead. Alexis took the chair beside mine, crossed her legs, and watched the curtain.
“You were right to bring her,” she said. “Don’t look so guilty. Half the girls I hire are somebody’s bad idea.”
“Well, she’s my sister.”
“And?” Maya said. “I once a threesome with my sister.”
My eyes widened. My manager was freakier than I thought.
The curtain moved. Maya stepped out in a red two-piece, bra and a short skirt, clear heels, hair up. The bra pushed her tits high. The skirt ended where the thong started. Alexis made a small approving sound, and my cock hardened.
Maya put a hand on the pole and saw my face. “Jaw’s down,” she said. “Clothes work. Now it’s show time.”
Alexis stood, walked to the stage, and set a hand on the brass above Maya’s. “Show me what you’ve got. Basic first. Climb, spin, come down clean. He’s the customer. I’m the one who hires.”
Maya nodded, rolled her shoulders, and took the pole like she had been paying rent on it. One hand high, hips out and a slow circle that put her ass toward my chair. She climbed. Thighs locked, skirt riding, and the red thong flashing under the hem as she pulled herself up. The spin was not perfect. It was good. She came down into a controlled slide, chest forward, hair spilling, and finished on her knees at the edge of the stage with her eyes on me.
I forgot the earpiece and the key and the fact that she was my sister. The bra had her tits high and moving with her breath. The heels made her legs look longer than they were. She looked like she belonged under that wash, and my cock was hard against my jeans before the song in my head had finished.
“Again,” Alexis said. She was smiling. “Arch more on the dismount. They pay for the arch.”
She stepped in and showed it. Alexis moved like the pole still knew her, wrap falling open over a black bodysuit, forty and stronger than half the girls on the Friday roster. She climbed, held, and came down with her back bent and her chest open, then looked at me.
“See the difference? Maya. Match it.”
Maya matched it on the second try. Better on the third. Alexis corrected a wrist, a hip, the way Maya’s free hand should drag her own thigh on the way down. They worked through a spin, a floor sweep, a slow crawl to the lip of the stage. Every time Maya held a pose she looked at me. Every time Alexis asked, “What do you think?” I had less to say.
“She’s good,” I said.
“She’s hireable,” Alexis said. “Don’t clap. Watch.”
I kept watching my sister pole dancing, and the next climb took the skirt out of the way. Maya locked her thighs and pulled up, and the red thong split an ass that bounced when she settled her weight. She inverted into the spin. Tits dropped toward me in the bra, full, jiggling with the turn, the cups barely holding. On the slide down her ass hit the beat, cheeks flexing, the string disappearing and flashing again every time she rolled her hips for the dismount.
Alexis made her do it slower. “Let it move. They are not paying for still.”
Maya let it move. A floor sweep put her on her knees, back arched, ass up, the thong a thin red line while she crawled the lip of the stage. Her tits swayed under her, heavy in the bra, nipples tight enough to show through the lace. She shook her hips once, on purpose, and the jiggle went through her ass and up into her chest. I shifted in the chair. The jeans were useless.
Alexis took the pole and showed the same shake, wrap open, bodysuit tight, her own ass and tits moving like the lesson was also a dare. Then she pointed at Maya. “Match it. Look at him when you drop.”
Maya dropped. Spin, slide, knees, chest forward so her tits bounced and settled, ass tipped back toward my seat. Sweat on her stomach. Hair stuck to her neck. She held the pose and breathed, everything in the red two-piece still moving after the music in her head had stopped.
“What do you think?” Alexis asked.
I did not have a clean answer. My sister was on her knees at the edge of the stage, ass and tits out, working a pole like she had been hired last month. “She’s good,” I said again, and my voice gave me away.
“Your sister’s going to make money,” Alexis said with a grin to Maya who grinned as well. “Now, I’ll show you how to get tips.”
She turned, set her ass against my knee, and rolled the way she had just taught, slow, professional, a demonstration that still landed. “This is the tease. You don’t sit all the way. You let him think you might. Tips come from the might.” She looked at Maya. “Your turn, on him, same move.”
Maya stepped off the stage and into my lap like the kitchen had been a rehearsal. Hands on my shoulders, hips circling, the red skirt bunched, thong dragging the ridge of my cock through the denim. She did it clean. Born to it was the wrong phrase and the right one. Alexis stood behind her and adjusted the angle with two fingers at Maya’s waist.
“Lower. Hold. Now look at him like you want the bill.”
Maya looked at me. Hazel eyes, mean mouth, my sister, sweating in a stripper’s bra in the club I bounced for. I was stunned and hard and out of notes.
“You like that, bro?”
“Oh yeah.”
They danced until the stage clock said we were stealing time from the bartenders. Climb, spin, dismount, tease. Alexis showed a chair move on me, thigh over mine, mouth near my ear, voice still teaching. Maya copied it and did it filthier, grinding once, pulling back, smiling when I gripped the chair. By the last pass even Alexis had stopped correcting.
“She doesn’t need me,” she said. “She needs a Friday. You were right to bring her, Dean. Try not to look like you lost a fight when she clocks in.”
Maya stayed in my lap, breathing hard, costume still on, and I couldn’t wait for the bj she’d promised me. Alexis checked the side door, then glanced back.
“Ten minutes. Then I need the room. Use them however you were going to.”
She left. The stage wash stayed on. Maya slid off my lap and knelt between my knees, red skirt bunched, thong dark with sweat, chest rising under the bra. She looked at my lap, then at me, and the tryout smile dropped into something smaller.
“I said I’d give you something for being a good brother.” She crooked a finger. “Chair stays. Come here.”
I stood. The jeans were a lost cause. She reached up, popped the button, and dragged the zipper down. My cock sprang out, flushed, wet at the tip from an hour of watching her climb and crawl. She wrapped a hand around the base and stroked me, eyes up, hazel and mean and pleased.
“You want to see my tits?” she said, and nodded at her own chest.
“Yeah, that would be better.”
She reached back, unhooked the red bra, and let it fall. Her tits spilled free, full, pale, heavier at the bottom, pink nipples tight like my cock. She arched so they sat up for me, then leaned in and spit into her palm, slicking the head before she took it in her mouth.
Hot. That was the first clean thought. Her lips stretched around me, tongue pressed underneath, a slow sink until she had half and had to pull back for air. Spit shone on the shaft. She went again, wetter, one hand working what her mouth could not reach, the other braced on my thigh. Her tits swayed with it, bare, brushing my jeans when she leaned too far. I put a hand in her hair and did not push.
“Gosh, you suck well.”
She pulled off with a filthy sound, strings of spit from her lip to the head, and grinned. “If my stripping dream goes up in smoke, maybe I could try becoming a pornstar.”
“Fuck,” I said as she sucked harder.
She took me deeper. Cheeks hollowed, tongue working the underside, a wet choke when she tried for more than she had practiced. I watched my cock disappear between my sister’s lips on the stage I got paid to guard, her ass still tipped up in the red thong, tits hanging and shifting every time she bobbed. She stroked in time with her mouth, twist at the head on the way off, then down again, sloppy on purpose, saliva running over her knuckles and onto the swell of her chest.
The hour on the pole had me close before she started. The mouth finished it. Heat coiled, my hips jerked, and I warned her with a broken moan. She stayed on the head, sucking, and I came in her mouth hard, the first pulses hitting her tongue. She swallowed once. I slipped free on the second and the rest spilled over her lips, her chin, thick stripes across both tits, a heavy line over one nipple, cum running warm into her cleavage while she stroked the last of it out of me. She did not flinch. She held still and let it land, chest shiny, mouth open, eyes on mine.
I had to catch the chair. She licked her lip, looked down at the mess on her tits, and laughed.
“Told you I was good,” she said. “Friday. Don’t stare like that when I’m working. I don’t want you fired.”
She wiped her chin with her thumb, sucked it clean, and left the rest on her chest for the ten minutes we had left.
Interested in part 3? My Stripper Sister’s First Night
Enjoyed this story?
Browse the books → Incest Books
Get 50% off your first order.
Use code: FIRSTREAD
Or if you want to read similar stories → Brother sister incest stories