Stripper Secret
Back in the day, when I had just turned 18, my friend and I decided to take our friendship to the next level. No, I’m not talking about gay sex. We decided to take our first trip ever to a strip club. It was a Saturday night and we live in fucking Iowa, what else is there to do? Plus, most strip clubs around here could be considered more than shady and it was the only way I could fulfill my addictions to danger and boobies at one time.
Everything that happened in this strip club was a disaster. We were sitting in the back when a guy came up and sat right next to us when there was plenty of seating not around other dudes. He was probably in his 40′s and brought a six pack of beer for himself. Sort of pathetic. After a while a stripper came up to him and asked if he wanted a “dollar dance”. One dollar for about 30 seconds of lap dance. Not a bad deal. He passed it up, however, and instead bought one for me and my friend. Sure, I enjoyed it, but I was also severely creeped out by this guys voyeuristic tendencies.
Well, after a few more dollar dances a stripper by the name of “Secret” came up to us. She was probably one of the hottest strippers there. After she gave me a dollar dance she just sort of hung out by us for a while. We got to talking about random stuff and I started to think that she was a decent enough human. Then she sprung the big question on me. “Do you want a private dance?” A private dance is a lap dance behind a curtain for $20 for a more intimate experience… Well, as intimate as you can get with a 300 pound bouncer standing five feet away from you.
During this private dance she said “you can touch me”, which threw me off for a bit because I have always heard that you’re supposed to keep your hands off, or get thrown the fuck out. With that little gesture and from talking to her for about 20 minutes before this happened I began to trust a stripper. I was an idiot. After the first song she asked me if I wanted her to keep going. What kind of dumb fucking question is that? Well not that dumb, apparently, because she asked me twice and I have no self control.
Well, apparently I was getting charged for that extra time without realizing it. Sure, I may be stupid for not automatically knowing this, but I had never been to a strip club before and never really had a strip club mentor to help me out. When we were done, she started asking me for more money. Forty dollars more for her stripper services. I had the money, but I wasn’t just going to give it to this dirty whore. She could have easily gotten a bouncer involved and I could have gotten fucked up, but instead she just asked to see my wallet. When I denied her the wallet peek, she started asking me if I had drugs in there and if I did, to give some to her.
Being the suave and charismatic guy that I am, I talked her out of looking in my wallet. I actually got her to forget about the money all together. Not only that, but she sat on my lap the entire night, just talking and hanging out. We were pretty much FBF’s (Fuck Buddies Forever, not Facebook Friends). That’s when weird got weirder. She started talking about her teenage years and how she liked to “party”. And by party I mean she liked to get “fucked until she’d bleed”. Needless to say that was the first and last time I came in my pants all night. Also, for having the stripper name “Secret” she didn’t really hold anything back. If a raw, bloody vagina isn’t secret worthy what is?
This stripper also started saying how cute I was, which is pretty standard any time I talk to a female. Then she asked me if I wanted to “go steady” with her. Like, go to movies and dinners and stuff. Again, I don’t blame her, but I’m not about to date a stripper who is clearly crazy, likes drugs and has a bloody vagina. So, my friend and I left a little while later and I pretty much spent the next three weeks getting boob glitter off of my face, collecting it into a pile and then jerking off with it.
Since you made it through this annoyingly long blog post, I’ll reward you with a stripper falling on her face:
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