On this OTC date, Mom was there

The stripper’s mom introduced herself to me just moments before I would be fucking her daughter. You read that right. Mom drove her to our OTC date. I’ve done OTC with strippers a few times. You want to know what I think? Do it for the stories more than the sex. This stripper was the babe of a club that was decidedly downscale. She was young and smooth. She looked fresh even though she surely had endured a lot. One of the finest asses I’d ever seen. Fucking her in the club was divine. But I wanted more time and more room. I wanted to pump on a bed, not a couch or a chair. I wanted to savor what I knew would be fleeting beauty. So I got her number, and we made a date. Of course, she’s a stripper. So there were cancellations and flakes. There was the time I was supposed to meet her, but when I arrived the roommate’s kids where there. Their father too. He was causing trouble. Police were called. I was long gone before they arrived – zipper never having budged a bit. The plan this time was I’d meet her at a strip mall. We’d go from there to the hotel in my car. I’m waiting patiently when a middle-aged woman approaches me. She asks am I waiting for this stripper? I tell her I am. She tells me she’s her mom. The stripper is changing clothes in the car. She points. Says she won’t be long. What do I do now? I’ve been to parties with princesses whose names you know. I’ve made chit chat with Fortune 500 CEOs and with movie stars. This one had me tongue-tied. Didn’t matter. Mom was a motor mouth. Told me all about her daughter’s tardiness, her inability to plan. She wasn’t mean. Just descriptive. Motherly. Honest. The mother of a girl I was paying for sex. Who looked great. The stripper. The sex was good. The truth though is the additional room and time didn’t add much. There’s something to be said for the furtive, for dropping trousers in a cramped closest, for her climbing on top for a purpose, for a focused screw, for me. One odd note to our OTC encounter was footwear. In the club, where she made the bikinis look good, she wore heels. The outfit worked. For our OTC date, she was in street clothes. Sexy in an ordinary way, which is great, if you ask me. Street shoes (versus heels) didn’t alter my positive view. In the hotel room, she goes to the bathroom to change. Emerges in hot underwear. Street shoes have been replaced by slippers – the kind that are comfortable inside but durable enough for brief outdoor chores. Like ballet slippers with a strap. She tells me she’s going to keep them on. I guess there was something she didn’t want me to see. Sad. That’s not the end of this OTC story, however. I saw the mom again. Where? A strip club of course. A different one. She didn’t remember me. Or if she did, she’s didn’t let on, not in any way. Mom has a great set. Much bigger than her daughter’s. Champion tits. The kind you’d put on display if you owned the club. She wasn’t daughter attractive, but attractive enough. If she’d have set her prices lower, I’d have fucked her too. I would have known. I would have come on those tits. Not OTC though.