The Bawdy Ladies of West Savyon

Dafna got off the bus in the exclusive Tel Aviv suburb of Savyon and strolled into the office where she was temping for Sigalit, who was out on maternity leave. “Hi ladies, what’s up?”

“Hey, we’ve got Chinese take-out for lunch,” Tzipi said.

“We’re planning a going-away party for Leah,” Naomi said. “Her husband has been posted to the Consulate-General in Toronto.”

“We’ll have it at my house,” Ariela, the boss, added. “Just us ladies, no men. A girls night in.”

“Sounds good,” Dafna said, sitting down and reaching for the szechuan beef, “But we could invite one man…you know, a stripper.”

“Like the Chippendales?” Tzipi asked.

“Where could we hire one?” Naomi added. “Hey, how do you know about strippers Dafna?”

“Well,” Dafna smiled, “Do you think my husband and I make ends meet with me being just a temp? I know a colleague who owes me a favor. He’ll do it, gratis.”

“Is he hot?” Tzipi asked.

“Very,” Dafna replied.

“Sounds delish!” Ariela cooed. “Have him come by the house next Thursday, any time after 9:00 PM.”

* * *

By 9:30, the party was in full swing. Ariela lived in a large house with a huge back lawn. She had invited about 25 guests, all women.

“So where is he?” Tzipi asked Dafna, shouting over the music.

“I dunno,” Dafna replied, “He should’ve been here by now.”

“Hey!” Tzipi shouted, “Someone’s banging on the door!”

“That must be him!” Dafna said, as she and Tzipi went to open the door.

It was a cop.

“Yes officer?” Dafna asked.

“Are you the householder ma’am?”

“No. What is it?” Dafna replied.

“We’ve had numerous complaints about the excessive noise. Could you turn the music off please and take me to the householder? I’m going to have to cite him or her.”

“Oh shit,” Tzipi muttered.

“Cursing won’t help ma’am,” the cop said curtly. “Please? The householder?”

Dafna and Tzipi led the policeman through the house onto the back patio. Tzipi shouted at Naomi, who was by the CD-player, to turn the music off.

All the women gathered around.

“We’re busted,” Tzipi told Ariela, “Too fuckin’ loud.”

“Yes officer? This is my house,” Ariela said, “We’re just having a party for our friend here,” she said, indicating Leah.

“I’m going to have to cite you ma’am,” he said, taking out his ticket book. “But maybe you,” he said to Leah, as he jumped up on a table, “would like to hold my nightstick?” He pulled his shirt out of his pants and gyrated his hips.

“Yowwww!” half a dozen women squealed as Naomi turned the music back on.

Bucking and gyrating to the music, the stripper invited ladies to come up and undo his shirt buttons. When his shirt was fully open, he took it off and tossed it to Dafna, revealing a lean, muscled frame.

The stripper knocked his cap forward to a rakish tilt and kicked off his shoes. Dafna scooped them up as he began to finger his belt. He pointed to Ariela, who stepped up and undid the buckle. She reached for his zipper.

“Uh-uh, sorry sweet thing!” he told her. “Where’s our party girl?” he called out to the clapping, squealing women, as he tossed his gun, spare clips and handcuffs to Dafna.

Several of the women pushed Leah forward. She blushed and giggled as the stripper thrust out his crotch toward her. She reached out and unzipped him.

The stripper stepped back and turned around. “I’m a po-liceman,” he shouted in English, grabbing his trousers, “But in America, I’d be a…g-man!” He dropped his pants, revealing a blue g-string between the cheeks of his tight, firm ass. He stepped out of his trousers and turned around, revealing the g-string pouch covering his cock and balls. The ladies whistled and howled their appreciation.

“Ladies,” he yelled, switching back to Hebrew, “You know that the Israel Police is a…well-oiled machine!” He held two small plastic bottles of scented body oil, which he had slipped from his pants before taking them off, and tossed them to the crowd.

Many of the cheering, screaming women came up and took turns rubbing oil into his shoulders, his pecs and abs, his back and his ass, and his thighs and calves, as he danced, gyrated, pouted and blew kisses to them.

“Oh Dafna, he’s great!” Tzipi said.

“And he’s gorgeous! What a hunk!” Ariela added.

“Very clever, to come dressed as a cop. He had us all going there for a second! Well done!” Tzipi noted, wiping the oil off her hands.

Dafna just smiled.

When the stripper was done, he bowed, to enthusiastic applause. He got dressed, collected his other things from Dafna, thanked Ariela and Leah, and left.

As the other guests helped themselves to grilled steaks and marinated lamb skewers from the backyard grill, Dafna sneaked out through the garage. She hurried to a Mazda 4×4 parked down the block, hiked her skirt and climbed in the back. The rear seats were folded down.

“Was I good?” the stripper asked.

“God, I almost came in my undies. Quick, help me get these off!” Dafna replied, fumbling with her panties.

“Well, I did come in my undies when you danced at that rookie’s bachelor party up north,” he said, helping Dafna out of her silk panties.

“We’re even,” Dafna said as she clambered over him and ground her pussy and clit on his cock, “Ohhh…you’ve made me hot.”

“Yeah, I can tell…ahhhh…What do you think…ohhh…would shock those hens more…” he asked.

“That you’re my husband?” Dafna moaned, taking him inside her.

“Or…ahhh…ohhhh…that I’m really a cop?”

“Both,” Dafna gasped, “Yiii…”

They gripped each other and cried out as they came together.

Dafna rolled off him. She took some tissues and wiped off her husband’s come. She pulled her panties back on. “I gotta get back there. See you at home babe.” She gave her husband a kiss and climbed out of the Mazda.

“I’ll wait up,” he said.

“Good.” Dafna shut the Mazda’s rear door and headed back to Ariela’s house.

This was inspired by a true story:

© 2007 Oxartes. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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