I went to this club a couple months ago, but I was afraid of blogging until now.
So I needed to know once and for all if Justine was not going to give me a handjob anymore. I was ready to make the switch now that I have Candice to satisfy my needs, but I was willing to give Justine one more chance.
I went on a Thursday, which may have provided one more wrinkle: Zyra was there. I fulfilled my naughty dream my previous visit when I showed her and Justine my cock at the same time. But I kind of surpised Zyra as she walked in, and she wasn't really, shall we say, happy with my dick. (Meanwhile, Justine seemed infuriated with my move. Once again, if you ask me if I'm an exhibitionist, you have to take the responsibility that I'll prove that I'm an exhibitionist.) Then again, Zyra didn't say she was sad to see my manhood. So since she was there again, I'm going to see if she's a bad girl.
Who saw me first? Either Candice or this new girl was onstage, I don't remember. Zyra walked over and saw me, so I waved at her. She may not have recognized at me at first, but I waved to her again as I walked up to the stage, and I think she finally recognized me. She then walked over to the couches where all the strippers hang out and lounge, and that was where Justine was, eating something out of her Tupperware. She didn't recognize me either, but after Zyra sat down next to her and said something to her, Justine looked at me, smiled, and waved. Is it that dark in there? Was I gone that long?
I tipped onstage; assuming it was Candice, I was glad to see her, but I was told her I wanted to wait before going to the side couches with her. If worst comes to worst, at least I can end my visit by getting off with her help.
---
So Candice or the new girl's set is over and I see Zyra come over. Well, maybe she isn't mad. I'll take her over to the couches and see.
Her dance was hot -- grinding, getting close and shit. I tried to move my hands over her petite titties, but I saw the guy who mans the front pacing up and down the row of beds. When the fuck did that start to happen?
Zyra was so good that she started to get me real hard. I told her that, and she said (I think) "I can tell." You can tell, huh? You can't really tell ... until I take it out. And as she was riding my crotch, I reach into my fly and show her how she made me feel. She didn't touch it. And she didn't recoil in disgust, but she did take the sides of my fly and cover my cock with them. Mental note: She does not get dirty, at least not in the couches.
So I was halfway genuine when we finished our two dances and I told her she was great. I then got up to give her my money and leave, but I was still hard. Maybe she'll just give me a quick yank. So while we were standing up, I take out my pee-pee again. I should've pressed the issue by saying something like, "Do you wanna touch it? Please touch it. Touch it. Touch it!!!" At least then Zyra would say something like, "I would, but only in the VIP." But I didn't. What I actually said was, "Are you offended?"
"With that? No. I don't mind."
"Mind what?"
"Penises."
OK. I didn't know where else to go from that. We had to leave so I put myself away.
---
Justine was next. Glad she was done with lunch. I promised myself I'd give her one more spin on the bed. Maybe she just had a bad night last time, or the heat was on. I really, really wanted things to be back to the way things were.
I look out of the bedroom to make sure there was no stripper as a waitress tonight. There wasn't. Good, because I had the privacy to turn towards Justine, unbutton my pants, and show her my genitals. I remember seeing it look like a flower in bloom, my thistle popping out, nestled in my matted-down cock hair.
To which Justine replied, "Put that away!" and she was angry again. God, what's her deal? She continues to rail on me: "Didn't I tell you to put it away the last time?!" And I couldn't really react. I just stood there, unblinking and silent. I didn't know what to say. This was like all the time my parents yelled at me before they started hitting me.
So I buttoned myself up like she ordered me to and we started out dance. She didn't thrust for my genitals even once. I meekly asked if she wanted to give me a handjob, but she didn't even bother. But she did ask questions that had nothing to do with the dance, but my attitude.
"Are you mad?", Justine asked.
"No, I'm not mad. I just feel. ..."
"Do you hold a grudge?"
"No, I don't. (That's a lie. I'm all about grudges. That's what this blog is for.) Do you?"
"No."
"Well ... I don't hold grudges, but I remember things. Like money. This guy tried to friend me on facebook and I reminded him he owes me thirty bucks."
"That's nothing. My former roommate owes me $500 and I know I'll never get it back."
"Why not?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. I know I'll never see her again. It's fine."
"So if you don't hold a grudge, why won't you give me a handjob?"
"Because you were talking shit about me on the Internet."
"What?!?! No I wasn't!!"
"You weren't? Oh, never mind."
"What do you mean?"
"Forget it."
"Well then, give me a handjob."
(So, I guess this means one of two things. Either she looked at another website and thought the nasty comments she saw about herself were ones I wrote ... or, she stumbled upon this blog. I don't think I was talking shit about Justine ... but I guess I am now. I'll say in my defense that I didn't criticize her until she accused me of critcizing her.)
So the bed dance was completely clean, and I was seething inside. Justine was being outwardly cordial, but I think she knew what she did. So with smiles and farewells, I gave her the $90 I owed her -- no tip -- and she was on her way. We used to leave together. Here, Justine left first, well in front of me. She walked away from a regular, too.
---
So, bewildered as I was, I went to Candice, the surefire ball-drainer.
It was the same thing as before: I could go to the bed, she reaches into her purse and gets her lube. But this time I wanted her to be less business-like and a bit more, um, romantic. So, even though I hate asking strippers to do something because it immediately dispels the magic in the room, I asked Candice to, this time, unbutton my pants for me.
She did. And she paused after she finished. To me, that pause was her way of saying, "Ooh, here comes the pee-pee." And she handled my business, quite forcefully. It felt really, really violent at first, but then something in my vas deferens or something clicked on, and I was ready to gush by the end of the first song.
What's funny was that around the time I was cumming, I saw the guy right outside. I think he caught us! "No," Candice said, "they do that all the time." No they don't. But if we can do this shit even with him walking around making sure nothing happens, well, even better!
She's my new all-time favorite.
---
There were only four girls working this time. The new girl was named Stella, a cute and small brunette with small boobies. I was just sitting down eating my free lunch and/or recuperating from the dick-twister I got from Candice when I saw The Guy whisper something to Stella in the lounge couches. Whenever she wasn't dancing or asking for laps, she was just sitting in her seat, curled up in a book she was alternately looking at and writing in. I like wallflowers, the shy type. They're more genuine. Better that than girls who hustle all the damn time; Stella didn't want to. Honesty's sexy.
But this was a workplace, and apparently The Guy told Stella that she couldn't just sit and doodle in her book, so she got up and started a conversation with me. These are usually contrived affairs that make me wince, but Stella really is a cool chick, and I learned a lot about her. That book she was concentrating on, for example, was a drawing book; she hobbies as a fashion designer. Stella allowed me to look; she's got some awesome designs. Not saying that she's going to be the next Stella in the fashion world, Stella McCartney, but from this untrained eye, she has talent. I hope she and her boyfriend get their money and act together, retrieve their car from the impound lot, and drive over to the fabric place to get some dresses or costumes together to sell to either civilian women or strippers.
I got a dance from her at some point during my visit. She didn't grab my stick, not even close, but knowing that she has a boyfriend, and that she seems really nice, I'd feel bad if I did expose myself. I tried touching her boobies too, but The Guy came around again. How does he know?
No comments:
Post a Comment