Take It Off

The Bloke and I went to our first strip club together.

I'd gone to a few when I was younger downstate (you can imagine which state it was...) My only recollection of one outing was a hot, tight brunette shimmying her way over to our table to offer a lap dance. "Oh," I laughed, "You wanna give me a lap dance?" She slung her body over mine and whispered huskily in my ear "I tell you one thing, I'd enjoy it a helluvalot more!"

Oh! Snap!

Needless to say, I'd been itching to replicate the experience. My last week in NYC resulted in one very very very bad strip club that was just plain depressing. Honestly? If my ass is (a) fitter, and (b) shakes better than those on stage, why would I waste my dollars? That's what mirrors are for.

So.

The Bloke and I mentioned going. I think he was a bit cautious when he brought it up. "Jesus!" I exclaimed, "I'd love to go!" We knew it'd have to be a non-school night since we planned on smoking a bit of dope and probably publicly indulging, thereby risking a lewd and lascivious arrest. Thankfully, the latter didn't happen, but plenty of the former did.

The Bloke sent me a text one morning when we'd planned on getting together regarding some strip clubs in Canada. I promptly donned a little floral dress that involved no bra and, more notably, no knickers.

Hot! Damn!

The Bloke could barely contain himself. We hit The Sundowner in Niagara Falls; I wasn't quite sure what to expect based on the massive number of cars in the lot, but I gave it a go.

Canada is one weird place, dawgs.

First of all? Yep, it was crowded. But never, when fighting my way through the frat boys, did I feel a hand on my ass that I couldn't locate. Those buggers am damn polite up north.

Secondly, despite the tons of gents there, never did it seem close to getting out of hand. The dancers put on pseudo-sex shows, slapping and fingering and licking each other. It was hot, but open and playful. I also watched a very slow, erotic lap dance that almost made me cream - I can only imagine the state of the poor recipient! But at the end, the dancer hopped up, got her cash, and cheerfully wished him a fun night.

Mmmm.

So needless to say, me and The Bloke followed suit: we retreated to the parking lot, smoked a bowl, and I gave him head. After going back inside, I'd press my body up against him so he could feel my cunt through his jeans. Rock-hard en route home? Why, yes.

And honestly? Sure it was fun, but I think the massive fuck I got back at the homestead was far, far better.

But I'm always thankful for inspiration...