Girls fucking guy in strip club

I live around the corner from the place, and I used to joke that the guys wearing maroon FlashDancers naked women models uncensored and handing out titty-filled flyers were the only people in all of Manhattan who thought I had any interest in paying to see boobs. But recently I got to thinking, and as a man who loves sex, sex workers, the Platonic company of other men, and absolute camp insanity, I decided I should just sack up and go inside some straight strip clubs.

I did, and that is how all my illusions about strippers were shattered.

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Club wasn't alone. Serving as my Virgil to this implant-filled underworld were my friends John and Hassan, both strip club veterans if not exactly aficionados. The first tits I saw belonged to a woman gyrating behind the bartender with all the energy of a children's toy whose batteries were about to die. As soon as we ordered our drinks a tall blonde who looked like Janice from The Muppets after some plastic surgery came up and talked to John.

She wasn't whispering guy nothings in his ear for nothing—it was obvious that this interaction was about business. Then another stripper named Maya came up to talk with Hassan and me. She was American, about 5'8", and hot in a very expected way.

She most definitely had a tramp stamp. Her dress was electric blue and one of those situations where the top club connected to the floor-length skirt by a fucking metal ring strip frames the belly button. Nude desi girls with their boy friends said I loved her dress and asked where she got it. She said club keep all the dresses there and the strippers get to choose from a big pile of them.

I looked around and saw the same dress in different colors on several of the other dancers. Seeing an opportunity, a third stripper came up to join us. Her name was Eva, and I was her reluctant mark. She was Swedish, so she said, but had dark hair, small tits, and was about six feet tall in her stripper heels.

I peppered her with questions about the club. She told me it was busy earlier, with business travelers and the happy hour crowd, but it was starting to die down. She told me that the weekends were the busiest but also full of young guys, who are the worst customers.

They don't spend a lot of money?

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After talking to Eva about her interest in martial arts for a while, we moved to take some seats by the stage. At any given time there were three girls working it up there, occasionally standing, but mostly on their hands and knees, contorting their torsos into kama sutra positions without a partner. For this solitary copulation, we were supposed to stick dollars in their thongs. The DJ played scattered auto-tuned monstrosities, like Franken-singles fucking top 40 hits were grafted with awful dance tracks and brought to life amiteur braless porn pics too much electricity.

In between songs, he made cheesy announcements about which girls girls come to the stage and who should go see the cashier. I was hoping the strippers would have really crazy names like Infinity, Destinee, Ibex, or Maybach. Most of the names were normal-ish. Mercedes was as exciting as it got. I was glad at least one girl had a car guy a name. Fucking systematically fed dollar bills to the women who worked their way by, dragging their booties across the stage. John told me about a game called strip darts, where you roll a quarter into a dollar bill, put ChapStick on the outside, then hurl it at the dancers and try club make it stick to their skin.

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This sounded horrendously degrading and also like a lot of fun. He said we should only play when we were ready to get kicked out. After a while most of the crowd cleared out and we were the only bait left in the shark tank. Girls kept offering me lap dances, but I turned everyone away.

I was just there to observe. After shutting down about six or seven of them, a stripper who looked just like Jeanne Tripplehorn and about as old told me I couldn't keep ignoring all the girls.

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I felt a little bad, but also a little uncomfortable. I was uneasy with all these strip thinking I was sexually attracted to them. I told Jeanne Tripplehorn that I just hadn't found the girl for me girls. If only my mother could hear that. I suddenly caught a girls of lotion combined with breath mints. A girl had her face about an inch away from mine. I'm gonna give you a dance," she said again.

Her face so was close to mine I couldn't even tell what she looked like. I'm gonna put my ass all over your dick. Now move your chair back. She straddled me and just started talking. She was a pretty black girl with long hair and a really tight body, wearing one of the ridiculous house-issued dresses. She asked how I knew Hassan, who was club on my right. I couldn't think of another way to let her know I was gay, and it seemed kind of funny to lie to the stripper. Then she leaned over to Hassan and said, "What the fuck are you doing here?

You're going to come here and take up strip and not spend any money on these girls? What the fuck do you think this is? Now move your chair back some more. This stripper was extorting me, but I also loved that I was getting read by this bitch. If I were straight, this is the kind of guy that I would probably want to fuck. She took off her dress and started working on my lap, rubbing her pussy all over my dick as promised. She liked it hard. After a few minutes of this my dick was still limper than my wrist, and she must have realized I was actually gay.

After Fucking paid her I noticed increasingly aggressive strippers had started to accost all of us, so I told the guys it was time to go to the next girls.

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The next place was Risque in Long Island City. Tucked away on a side street, Risque strip the kind of awning you're used to seeing on bodegas. It seemed like this was the part of our adventure where we'd get mugged, stranded, and maybe fuck a bunch of prostitutes in the apartments above the strip club.

There were exactly six dancers and two patrons inside. After we sat down at the bar, there were six dancers and five patrons. That's a depressing ratio. Actually, everything at Guy was depressing, from the girls sitting at the opposite side of the bar to the Yankees losing a game on the big screen.

Three working ladies were sitting down smoking a hookah filled with strawberry tobacco and the sticky sweet stench was everywhere. Two of them were wearing glasses, looking like they just finished a hard night studying in the college library. They had not. Suddenly, a flat-chested girl in a bikini came over and put her arms around John and myself. This has to be the only job in the world where the workforce is encouraged to ply their trade completely guy.

Maybe that's what they need to make it through the night. Teresa told me that she was the top girl in the club, which was hard to believe.

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Her cousin, she said, was a close second. She pointed to her cousin swinging daniel radcliffe naked porno around the pole in the center of the bar. She was wearing black tights with slits across them in various configurations, like some deranged spider was trying to make a snack out of her. Her face was not pretty, her teeth were not neat, her breasts were not large.

She would not be considered attractive by most sober judges. We bought Teresa a drink, a Bellini, and shortly after finishing it she got on stage girls stuck her ass up in the air. One of her pussy lips was sticking out of her thong and it looked both disgusting and ridiculous, like a nose with a booger hanging fucking of it.