But Priscilla had never been a stripper. Stripping for her husband and stripping for an audience were two different things. She took her clothes off, but that's the kindest thing you could say for the way she did it. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off of her shoulders. Unfastening her skirt, she let it fall to the ground. With a nervous look at her audience, her petticoats soon followed. Putting off the inevitable as long as possible, she sat down and pulled off her shoes and stockings.
Unfastening her stays, she let them drop and her gorgeous breasts were free. I could tell her hands were itching to cover them, but she was afraid to. Naked, except for her bloomers, she walked around the circle exhibiting those gorgeous breasts for everyone to see. I think it was sometime during that circuit that she started to really started to understand what was expected of her. By the end of her parade, she was flaunting her tits, not just exhibiting them. When she ended her circuit she was standing directly in front of me. Ever since I'd met her, I'd envied Bob his good luck. Now here she was, almost naked and so close I could touch her. Glancing at Bob, she mouthed a silent "I'm sorry", and untied her bloomers. Pushing them down over her beautiful hips, she stepped out of them and kicked them to the side.
I could have died. I'd had wet dreams about something like this and now here I was, face-to-face with the most beautiful cunt this side of St. Louis and my hands were tied so I couldn't even touch it. I made myself many promises that day, but one of them was that I was going to get into that box.