My Friend the Stripper

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


Part one January 10, 2006

I am strip club connoisseur. I‘m not ashamed, but then again, I don’t need everyone to know.

I love to watch beautiful women dance and expose their private parts. I have all kinds of fantasies that never actually play out. But I still have the fantasy.

The amount of pleasure you get is dependent on the club or the city or the state. Every club is different. Sometimes it‘s an owner’s policy or rules; sometimes, it’s a state or local ordinance; sometimes, it’s just a case of the club’s financial situation.

Most clubs today allow you to have a private dance with the dancer of your choice, usually a lap dance – a private dance where the dancer literally dances on and around your lap. Most clubs go by a rule that the dancer can touch you in pretty much any way she chooses, while the man can‘t touch you at all. Some clubs do allow two-way contact. And there are hundreds of variations. The length of the dance is the length of the song that’s playing.

I like lap dances. You can often have all of the arousal and personal attention of a prostitute for considerably less money and no concerns about STDs. Very often, the dance(s) end with you cumming in your pants.

Let me share couple of my favorite titty bar experiences. One time I went to club in Albany, NY. Well not really a club. It would be more correct to call it your typical neighborhood bar with a few reasonably pretty women walking around in skimpy lingerie. I went in, ordered a drink, and almost immediately, a girl in a see-through nightgown that opened in the front. The only thing I couldn‘t see was underneath her panties. She asked me to buy her a drink and then asked if I wanted a private dance. I looked around and said where? and she said right here. I looked down the length of the bar, and another guy was having a dance. So I asked how much. She said $20. This was in the 90s, and that was pretty much the going rate – but that came with a bit of privacy. I asked her if I could have three for $50. She said Ok.

I was sitting on a high bar stool, and she started rubbing against me, blowing in my ear, and hugging me (yes, that‘s unique in a strip club). She reached for my cock – over my pants. It was not erect. She said she would have to fix this. By the end of the first song, I was hard and enjoying this new kind of dance quite a bit. The whole experience was not just arousing but kind of sensual as well. On the third dance, she arranged herself so that the crack of her ass was cradling my erection, and she worked it really hard. And before the song was over, I came. I’ve always wanted to go back there.

Another time I was in a club in Moncton, New Brunswick in, Canada. It was a big club with more dancers than customers. Canada has always had more liberal rules towards strip clubs than most places in the US. A lap dance here was $10 Canadian. (It was 2001, and the exchange rate for the US Dollar was 65¢. So a lap dance was really $6.50) I brought about $200 (Canadian) with me. The girls would come up to me and rub my cock or let me hold their tits. Some of them would kiss me as well. The quality of the dancers was well above the typical club. Over the course of the night, I had quite a few dances. I watched a two-girl show, followed by a two-girl dance for $30. I spent the most time with an older (35?) woman who tried really hard to make me come. I didn‘t. I wanted to keep it going as long as possible. I told her I’d give her $20 if she made herself cum. She started rubbing her clit really hard. For some reason, I trusted her not to fake it. I pulled out my dick and started jerking off. She said I wasn’t allowed to do that. But I kept going, and she was fixated on my cock as she was rubbing herself off. After about ten minutes, she told me she was about to cum. And her orgasm was pretty intense. Watching her cum made me cum on the floor. What a night.

I have several other stories, but that‘s not what this story is about. I want to tell you about my friend the dancer.

Part Two January 11, 2006

This story starts when a new titty bar opens about ten miles from my house. Actually, as it turns out, this place has been there for years, I just never noticed it. Maybe it was a little too close, but I had to try it anyhow.

The sign on the top said “Outcast Bar.” You pull into the driveway, and there’s a sandwich board sign saying parking in the rear. Below that, in fairly small type, it said Exotic Dancers.

Walking inside, it looked like it could be a pancake house or a Denny‘s -except that pretty girls were dancing on the bar. There was wallpaper on the walls. With real pine paneling behind the bar. Nice pictures of local scenery and birds scattered around the club. There were colonial style curtains on the windows and a nice clean carpet on the floor. Not only that but it smelled fresh and clean. About as unlike a strip club as I’ve ever seen.

There was a pretty black girl dancing Sincan Escort when I came in. She still had her top and bottom on, so I could assume she would have two more dances on stage. I pulled a chair next to the stage. As she danced, I‘d put two dollars up on the stage every time she revealed some new body part. At the point that she was completely naked, she leaned over and asked me if I wanted a dance. “Absolutely,” I replied.

When she was done, she took my arm and walked me into “the back room.” It had the same look as the front. Wallpaper, pictures, but pine floors, the same smell, except it was a little narrower. There were five booths against the wall with (you guessed it) flowered curtains. Inside the booth was an oversized loveseat with a wooden chair on either side. It felt private and very roomy. Chantelle told me to make myself comfortable and took off all her clothes immediately. That often happens on the second dance or at least partway through the first. She said, “dances are $20.”

I handed her a twenty, and the music started to play. The song was “Reasons” by EWF, a slow and very long song. I’m pretty sure it was her request and a sign to me that she wasn’t going to take me for a lot of money,

Chantelle was a beautiful girl. A significant cut above the typical dancer. I would guess 30 years old. Very fit with kind of wide hips, big round butt and lovely, medium sized tits, a little saggy but her big black areola with nipples pointed straight up made them even perfect for my taste. I marveled at the beauty of her skin. I would describe as a dark coffee color, maybe mocha. It seemed like the color was consistent all over her body. It kinda glowed in a way that you don‘t usually see. She did the perfunctory dancing before she got to what we were here for. She leaned over me and stood between my legs. Her nipples were as close to my lips as you can get without touching. Her legs were brushing against mine and moving towards my crotch. Then she really surprised me. She just grabbed my cock, and nearly wrapped her hands around it. Then she moved it around in my pants to give me better contact at the point that she starts a real lap dance.

“Oh, you are really big.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys,” I replied.

“Yea, I do,” she said, “but in your case, I really mean it.”

[My dick is not small. I have measured it. I think most guys do at some point. Fully erect, it‘s about seven and a half inches. But when I watch porn, every guy’s cock is bigger than mine. Some are just enormous. On the other hand, Wikipedia or some other source said that 85% of men have penises seven inches or smaller, and only 3% of all men are bigger than eight.]

Back to my dance.

Chantelle laid back against my chest and grinded (ground?) her ass on my cock. I had my hands on her hips, helping her navigate. Then she grabbed my hands and put them right on her breasts.

“Is this allowed?” I asked

“No,” she said, laughing and grinding.

Her breasts felt wonderful. Soft and supple with really long nipples on top. This was just remarkable, and the song wasn‘t even half over. As she was grinding, I couldn’t help but notice how great her hair smelt. This was a temporary trip to heaven. Chantelle started moving harder and faster, and I could’ve cum right then. I put my hands back on her hips to slow her down.

“I don’t want to cum now.” I said, “I’m planning to spend some time here, and if you make me come, I’ll have to just go home.” As crazy as it sounds I really meant it.

“But I really want you to come. I really do. I’ll be fantasizing about you all night.” She sounded very sincere.

Then she turned around to face me. Breathing heavily in my ear. Once again, she grabbed my dick and began jerking me off. She had a way of grabbing my cock over my pants that felt like my pants weren‘t even there. I couldn’t hold back anymore and came all over my pants.

I was feeling so good she could‘ve had anything she wanted. I reached into my soggy pants for and pulled out the fifty I was saving for some special occasion and put it in her hand.

“I’m sorry, but you seem like a really nice guy, and I wanted to see you cum. My boyfriend, um, my current boyfriend, is coming in at 9:30, and I’m gonna have to be with him.”

“Well, we’ve still got half an hour. Tell me about your, um, boyfriend.”

“Ok, but I gotta go wash first. You got me all wet.”

“Yeah, I bet you say that to all the guys as well.”

She didn‘t even respond.

She came back and sat with me in the private room.

Well, what should we do?” She said.

“I’d love to fuck you right here, but I imagine that’s not in the cards.”

“No, definitely not. I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’ve seen what happens to the girls who do. It’s just a bad idea.” She said with just a little regret in her voice.

So we talked, and our conversation was just loaded with surprises.

“I’m Ankara Olgun Escort going to night school, you know.” Her first surprise.

“No of course I didn’t know” I replied sarcastically.

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m going to Northeastern to get my BS.” Second surprise.

“Don’t tell me you’re doing criminology?” Again sarcastically.

“As a matter of fact I am. I want to be a cop. My cousin’s a cop in Worcester and I’m so jealous.” She was blushing a little. “Now don’t start the what’s a nice girl like you thing.”

“Promise, at least for now but I’m sure there’s a great story here.”

Then we talked about books and movies and the kinds of things you don‘t expect to be talking about to a girl who just rang your bell for money.

Part Three April 4, 2006

Over the next few months I became a regular at the Outcast. All the girls knew me in a very intimate way, so to speak. But it was Chantelle who really intrigued me and always turned me on. Every time I went there Chantelle and I would always find time to talk. Over time she had become a really good friend. I felt as though I could tell her anything and I think she felt the same within certain limits. We never had a private dance as good as that first one. But I always loved having her crawling over me.

One day she was doing her dance and said, “I think I’m gonna get new boobs.”

“What!” I said, “you’re out of your mind. You have great tits.”

“Well maybe you think so but I don’t like ’em. They’re saggy and they’re too small.”

I got pretty emotional at this point, “Do you know what kind of boobs guys like best?”

“No tell me.”

“Guys like any kind of boob they can put their hands on. Guys just love boobs and the size or shape of boob is never gonna change a guys mind about fucking you. I have to say there are some guys who say things like ‘I wouldn’t fuck her, her boobs are too small or too big or saggy or too pointy because they need an excuse for their insecurity around women. Now when it comes to your tits. They are fabulous. A perfect size and they are so soft. And those nipples. If I had to describe perfect breasts I would describe yours. Besides, have you ever felt tits with implants? They’re awful. It feels like you’re holding a baseball or a football. Definitely a deal breaker for me. And what about sensitivity? I know you’re breasts are pretty sensitive. Most girls with implants lose sensitivity. And ten years later you gotta do them again and they’re never as good as the first time.”

I don‘t know if it was my lecture or something else but she decided not to do it.

Other times we‘d talk about her boyfriend – actually her new boyfriend. The other one just stopped coming.

Part Four September 15, 2006

One night she was feeling like opening up on some of the inner secrets of the exotic dancer.

“You know most of us don’t do this for the twenty dollars we get for a dance or the fuckin’ dollar bills guys throw at us on the stage. What we’re working for is the “sugar daddy“. They come in all sizes. Not their physical size, I‘m talking about the size of their wallet and how much we can get them to part with. Now I have some limits with this but some of the girls have taken guys for every cent they have. Ruin their marriages and their lives. I always stop before it goes too far. But I still make a shitload of money. Last year I made $150 thousand and I’ll probably top that this year.”

This particular conversation went on and on over a couple of months. She was always interrupted by business but I always made sure we picked right up where we left off. What follows are consolidations of many, many conversations.

“First you gotta spot the right guy. Which isn’t always that easy. Of course he has to be married. That’s usually pretty easy to figure out. Second he’s gotta have money, lots of money. That’s not as easy to tell. We get guys coming in here throwing bills everywhere, flashing Rolex’ and dressed in nice suits. But eventually you figure out they’re fakes. On the other hand you can have a guy who really does have bucks but comes in unshaven, wearing sweats and maybe not smelling so great. The sweats work pretty well for a lap dance. A lot of times they’re not wearing anything underneath. They get pretty good “mileage” with a good dancer dressed like that.

Then you start to play them. And you have to understand this is a pretty sophisticated game. All of the girls know it, most of them play it.

Part Five October 24, 2006

I was so intrigued at this point. I‘ve always suspected there was more to these places than titties but the depth of the con amazed me.

Then the game starts. It was like she was telling me the secrets of the Illuminati.

“You start with the dance. If you can get him to buy five or six dances, two or three drinks you could be on your way. After he’s come back a Ankara Ucuz Escort few more times you’ve got a pretty good idea that this is your guy. And the whole time he’s not getting anything more than a plain vanilla lap dance. And I’m getting three or four hundred a night.

Then, when you‘re really sure you tell him to wait ’til your shift is over and you’ll meet him in his car. You get to his car and he’s so hot you could get him off with a feather. But instead you take out a little coke and do three or four lines. Then you tell him to drive down the road a little. You find a good place to stop, you unzip his pants and give him the slowest handjob you can. Any indication that he’s gonna cum and you stop. You see if he cums too quick he’s gonna feel like he blew it and may never come back because he ashamed. When you finally do let him come you act as though it was the most amazing load you ever seen. And how did he ever hold out so long. If he comes back within the next few days, he’s yours. And it will probably last until he is overcome by guilt and confesses to his wife. Sometimes this happens in months, sometimes years.”

Part Six November 27, 2006

I went one day on Black Friday. I guessed it was gonna be really slow. I was right. I got there about 3:00, Cherry was just standing on the stage leaning on the pole. It looked like there were only four girls working and I was the only guy there.

I walked to the back room – a special privilege I had earned. Chantelle was sitting at the break table. I leaned over and gave her a kiss and realized that it was the first time I had ever kissed her. After the usual greetings and small talk, I said, “I think I want to hear the ‘how did a nice girl’ story.”

“Ok this is as good a time as any.” Her answer kinda surprised me. I thought she had been holding back on this one.

“I grew up in Mattapan in a triple decker. Our apartment was pretty nice. My mother was always bringing home some little thing to decorate the house. Our apartment had four rooms. My bedroom was on one side, then the dining room, the living room and then at the other end was mama’s room. Oh yeah, there was a kitchen too. I had my own little TV in my room. It was probably a dump, I don’t know, but to me it was home and I loved it. My father left when I was three. I really don’t remember him at all. Just that my mother seemed happy that he was gone. So for the next eight years it was just mama and me. And life was good, at least for me. I think Mama was lonely. Sometimes she’d go on dates and once in a while she’d bring a guy home. Sometimes for dinner and to meet me and then maybe they’d go in her bedroom. Other times a guy might come later and pretty much go straight to the bedroom. She was always pretty discreet but I knew she wanted a man and that was fine with me.

I went to Mattahunt School in Dorchester right around the corner. I usually walked to school unless it was really cold. Mama had an old Toyota that she didn‘t use much but she would get it and drive me to school on those really cold days.”

“What was your neighborhood like. Was it safe?” I asked.

“Typical, yeah it was a very nice place to grow up – Honky.”


“I had friends that I walked to school with. Maybe there’d be shooting somewhere but never in our neighborhood. White folk always think living in Mattapan, Dorchester or Roxbury is like living in a war zone. It’s not.

When I was eleven mama met a really nice guy, Paul. He came over a lot and a couple of times took us out to really nice places.

And then they got Married! He lived in Canton in a really nice house. We moved in that summer.”

“Just out of curiosity was he black”

“Yea he was, there weren’t a lot of black families in Canton then (I think there are more now). He was a lawyer for a big firm in Boston.

I started middle school that fall in Canton. I was a real novelty. Everybody wanted to be friends with the black girl. Even the boys, who were still at that age where your not supposed to like girls.

The next year all the girls started getting their periods and titties. And some of the boys were growing up too.

I was a really horny little kid. I started diddling myself when I was ten or eleven and pretty soon I was doing it every night. When I got my titties I was ready to fuck one of those white boys. I was still a novelty except now, I think I was pretty hot.”

“I bet you were. I wish I was that little boy.”

“Actually he wasn’t that little. His was Jared, same as you. He was maybe five-nine, five-ten and thin but not skinny. I was all over him. Our first kiss was in the cafeteria when no one was looking. And I moved quick. Mama and Paul went to the Cape for the weekend and Jared and I jumped right in. I didn’t give him a chance for foreplay or anything. I fuckin’ rape the poor boy. Twice that night and twice the next. I didn’t get off any of those times. In fact I probably had sex twenty times before I ever had an orgasm. But I still really liked fucking and I loved, loved, loved giving handjobs. Jared and I lasted a couple of months and then I moved on to the next guy and the next guy after that. It didn’t take long before I had a rep. I really didn’t care as long as mama didn’t find out and she never did.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir