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MrDeuce

Illinois

It all began on a weekday afternoon in early July in a Midwestern city. I had started a day of play with lunch and lap dances at a favorite strip club followed by a movie. Then I stopped in at another club, less frequently in my rotation, for its cheap but surprisingly good food, its $10 lap dances during a certain part of the day, and some eye candy.

Soon after I entered, she went on stage and immediately caught my attention: beautiful face, voluptuous body (I would estimate her measurements to be 37C-27-36), and sexy dance moves on the pole. Besides that, she was wearing glasses, which has always been one of my fetishes. (Think “lascivious librarian” or “slutty schoolteacher”.) I tipped her and exchanged pleasantries at the stage and, as soon as she got off, she came to me and asked “Do you want to go play with ***?” Well, yes – yes, I do!

When I get private dances, I usually stop after two or three from the same dancer. Ordinarily by then I have either already come or know that I’m not going to. But this girl had already captured me with her combination of physical beauty and sweet personality so that I let her continue for one dance after another. Having had an orgasmically good time early in the afternoon at the first club, Little Deuce was not cooperating, so I asked her if she would be willing to stimulate me with her breasts. She readily complied, trying her best to get me off with a kind of tittyfuck except that I was wearing shorts. When we finally called it a day after eight dances, I complimented her on her dancing skills and her eagerness to please and she said, for the first of many times, that I was the customer and her job was to please me. Guys *love* to hear that sort of thing!

I told her that I would like to go to the VIP room on my next visit and asked her to describe what I might expect there. (At that point I had never done a VIP dance at this club and had actually done very few anywhere.) She said that she would “do anything except sex”. When I asked her to define “sex”, she said “Intercourse. You can’t put your penis inside me.” I think we can all thank Bill Clinton at least in part for this generation’s relaxed definition of sex!

On another weekday about two weeks later I was in her city again, hanging out with an old friend for the afternoon. I had texted her the day before to let her know that I would be in town, and as he and I were finishing dinner around 7, I received a short but most welcome text letting me know that she was expecting me and looking forward to my visit. Perhaps coincidentally, when I arrived at the club a half hour later, she was right inside the entrance, standing by the door guy’s cash register in all her topless glory to greet me with a big busty hug.

I took a seat and ordered a drink and she straddled me, still topless, and asked me what I would like to do. When I asked her if a blowjob was a possibility, she just smiled and nodded. After we enjoyed drinks and conversation and she had a smoke break, it was off to the VIP room.

There were the usual preliminaries: I paid the door guy $150 and the waitress eventually came to take and then deliver our drink orders. By then about ten of our thirty minutes had elapsed, but fortunately she got right to it like a woman with a mission. It was wonderful, certainly the best blowjob of my life. She was affectionate, bold, and erotic, all at the same time. She began by straddling me again and kissing me for a while, a rare and most enjoyable experience. Then she knelt *beside* me on the padded bench seat that runs around three sides of the VIP room, an unusual position in sharp contrast to the usual kneeling on the floor, and enthusiastically took my erect and uncovered member in her mouth. I should mention that my occasional previous experience with blowjobs had been at extras clubs in suburban Detroit or East St Louis where the details of price and “coverage” were carefully negotiated in advance. Here I was so eager to experience this pleasure with her that I didn’t even bring up the issues of cash and condom. As it turns out, she willingly swallowed my load within a few minutes of starting and then cuddled with me until our time was up. Being fairly new at this sort of thing, I wasn’t sure how much to tip and offered her $50. She gratefully accepted, saying that I could have tipped her $10 or nothing and she wouldn’t have been offended. She went on to say that she was glad I enjoyed it and that it was pleasurable for her as well.

Two visits, two weeks apart, first for lap dances and then for a VIP room blowjob – and I was hooked! This girl was everything I look for in a stripper: beautiful, well-built, fun to hang out with, sweet, eager to please, erotic, and not greedy. I continued to see her in the club about every two weeks through the rest of July and August and it was generally the same every time: stage tips and drinks, a smoke break for her, and then thirty glorious minutes in the VIP room. I saw her a total of five times in about seven weeks and couldn’t get enough of her.

Oh, there was the occasional stripper shit, to be sure. For example, before my third visit I texted her around 7 from my friend’s place on the other side of the city to remind her that I was coming to the club and would be there in about half an hour. She texted back that she wasn’t at the club, having a family event to attend, but would like to hang out somewhere else because she didn’t feel like coming in that evening. This sounded like an offer of OTC fun, so I suggested dinner somewhere close to the club as I drove on city streets rather than the freeway in order to give us time to agree upon a meeting place. After an hour of intentionally slow driving and many inconclusive texts, I finally arrived at her club around 8 because I had to go somewhere. Eventually she came in around 9 and entertained me as usual in the VIP room, except that this time she was so nervous about possible intruders or watchers that we never really got into our rhythm and I experienced the only non-orgasmic blowjob of my life!

Afterward I hinted that I could sometimes arrange to stay in the city overnight and that we would have a lot more privacy in a hotel room and she seemed quite agreeable, even implying that she might spend the night with me.

Truth be told, the first of the four blowjobs she gave me was the best. Even though the VIP room at this club is not very private – beaded curtains rather than a door and the constant possibility of other couples coming in – she was utterly fearless the first time, seeming not to care whether we were observed or interrupted. The other three times she positioned me in a corner, knelt on the floor rather than on the bench seat, kept a constant lookout for intruders, and always seemed anxious about getting caught.

Another example of stripper shit: Prior to what turned out to be our last time together at the end of August, we had agreed that she would be most comfortable with doing what we were doing if we started before 5. We arranged to meet at 4 on a weekday afternoon, so I got there shortly after 4 after a long drive from work. For the next two hours she texted me repeatedly that she was running late, traffic was bad, etc. etc. (She lives ten minutes from the club.) Finally at 6 I gave up and left, pissed off that I had sat there bored out of my gourd for two hours. (There were very few dancers working at that time of day, so mostly the stage was empty.) However, pathetic loser that I am, I turned around and went back when she texted me that she had finally arrived.

Those were the seven wonderful weeks of our relationship. We texted every few days and saw each other every couple of weeks and I was already making plans to keep visiting the city, where I neither live nor work, and looking for reasons to spend the night there. Now seven highly frustrating weeks followed, during which I tried to arrange a rendezvous either ITC or OTC. I reserved a nice hotel room for a Monday night in early October and told her about it. About the middle of September she texted me that she was no longer working at the club but that “If u want the same thing as we do in vip i can outside the club up to you.” As I told her at the time: “Best. Text. Ever.” A week or so later I asked her if she would like to join me for dinner and a movie on that early October evening and she responded “I would love to :)”

That turned out to be the high point. She stopped texting me a few days before our planned rendezvous and I ended up dining and seeing a movie alone (and, of course, going to a strip club). Afterward we exchanged occasional texts, but eventually it became clear that she just wasn’t interested any more, so I said my good-byes in the middle of October. I even got more poetic than usual and quoted the end of “The Hollow Men” by T.S. Eliot:

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

This girl really had an impact on me. Since I started clubbing twenty years ago I have had thousands of lap dances from hundreds of strippers at dozens of clubs, but none of them ever affected me like this chick. She is unique in several respects:

• the most beautiful woman ever to blow me
• the only stripper to blow me more than twice
• the only stripper to provide me with a non-orgasmic blowjob
• the most genuinely accommodating stripper I’ve ever met
• the only stripper I’ve ever exchanged text messages with
• the only stripper I’ve ever seriously contemplated meeting OTC
• the only stripper I’ve ever felt an emotional connection with

She won my heart during those first eight lap dances and that first VIP session back in July. She broke my heart when she didn’t show up for our October rendezvous.

I will probably never know what went wrong, though I suspect that I met her late in her stripping career when she was starting to go through a crisis of conscience, asking herself questions like “Do I really want to dance nearly naked for money?” as well as “How did I end up sucking an old guy’s dick in a not-so-private VIP room?” and “Why would I want to blow this dude in a motel room?” I honestly think that I was an exception in her life: she seemed to have very few regulars, telling me at one point that I was now her regular because I had texted her. After our first VIP session she was always so nervous that I have to think our activity was not the norm for her. She was always remarkably eager to please and non-materialistic, never asking for a tip or even wanting to talk about money, and I believe she just wanted to make a fresh start in her life, which meant no more stripping and no more seeing guys from her stripping days. I will never forget her, and some day when I look back over my long and varied strip clubbing career, I believe she will stand out as my all-time favorite dancer. She is, quite simply, my Dream Stripper.