Simple concepts and sure things
Sgrayeff
In NJ. Goes to Pa for BJ.
Tuesday, July 30, 2024 7:09 PM
There is a scene early in the movie "Pretty Woman" where Richard Gere orders champagne and strawberries for Julia Roberts. Noting that he's not partaking, she tells him: I appreciate this whole seduction thing you got going, but let me give you a tip ... I'm a sure thing.
Strip clubs are supposed to be sure things The core of the concept is random women offer sexuality to men. Doesn't matter who you are, the man doesn't have to seduce the woman. You don't even have to look like Richard Gere so long as you're paying.
It's a simple concept. And it mostly works. Mostly.
One of my most memorable strip club visits was at a New York City club that didn't survive Covid. It was girls in gowns and padded chairs at cocktail tables. This girl wore a long, tight, blue velvet dress slit high on the thigh. She was pretty but not the prettiest. There were bigger tits. Better asses too.
But none had her style. Taking the chair across from me, she communicated mostly with her eyes as she inched closer in excruciating increments. Edging in, her knees slid inside mine. In time, her hands were on my thighs. Every once in a while, she'd whisper: Let's dance ... I want to dance with you. Eyes. A little grin. That slit in her dress a giant tease. I had to have her. Less than 30 minutes later, she was giving me a sweet blowjob. It was more money than I usually care to spend. And worth it.
There was nothing so subtle about my seduction at another club. This was one of those Jersey clubs that specialize in Latinas and that isn't all that discriminating about their looks (or attire). This was my first visit, so I was disappointed that none of the girls was attractive. I was further disappointed when one of the least attractive among the unattractive dancers was the first to attempt my seduction.
I like them slim, and she was anything but. Butt? Hers was giant and not what I wanted. Yet she had game. Her greeting for me wasn't just verbal. She engaged half my brain with her "hello" and the other half with her hand. My rejection of her offer to fuck didn't stop her from straightening my erection in my shorts. My "no" to a blowjob didn't feel much like a negative as she continued stroking my cock. Give me $25, she said, and I'll jack you off right here at the bar.
This is the sure thing. While I honestly wasn't sure I was ready to expose my dick to the air of the bar and the eyes of everyone else, I heard a "yes" come from my mouth. That was a good thing because she already had my zipper down and my dick in her hand. Next thing I know it feels as if my pole had never been longer or thicker. The orgasm, wrapped as it was in more than her hand, had me rocking and shaking. One of the best ever.
There are girls who don't understand the fundamentals of this concept - that they are the ones who are supposed to be bidding for us. Just the other night, I found myself at a club without my preferred options. Because I was desperate and because she had a great-looking rack, I went back with her anyway. Sure thing? No. Not even in a club where extras are ordinary. As I feared, she expected the tits to do all the work. I cut my losses by cutting the dance off. Her request for a tip wasn't met.
Sometimes the girls who struggle with the basic concept do figure it out. At another club where extras were easy, one of the cutest dancers wasn't obliging. Though we'd been to the couch several times, she was cold to any suggestion that my pants come off. I was a regular at this club, which means she saw me go back with others several times. She began asking why we never go back with her anymore. I was honest. I told her I wanted to fuck. I told her I'd pay the going rate, which was $100 plus $25 a song. She walked away.
Some months later, she sat down at my table and said so long as it's four songs, we could do it. So back we went. She had a prime athletic body. She removed her top. I slid down my pants. She dropped between my legs and delivered a porn-style blowjob that was almost too good. Then she stood. Down went the tiny panties, revealing one of the tiniest, prettiest clefts I've ever seen. Another lick to make my raging rod super wet, then she straddled my legs. The site of that swollen head and shaft disappearing into her little slit was too much. Didn't need four songs. Paid for them anyway. Was worth it.
Strip clubs are a great concept, as we all know. You drink a beer, and girls in skimpy attire magically seem to offer themselves. The men don't sweat her moods or pick a restaurant. Even might not have to worry about what to wear. Near the bar and the neon lights, everything seems to be aligned for our nasty minds.
I appreciate this whole seduction thing. I do. It's the basis for a wonderful fantasy. Even when I don't get laid. There's tits and ass too.
Strip clubs are supposed to be sure things The core of the concept is random women offer sexuality to men. Doesn't matter who you are, the man doesn't have to seduce the woman. You don't even have to look like Richard Gere so long as you're paying.
It's a simple concept. And it mostly works. Mostly.
One of my most memorable strip club visits was at a New York City club that didn't survive Covid. It was girls in gowns and padded chairs at cocktail tables. This girl wore a long, tight, blue velvet dress slit high on the thigh. She was pretty but not the prettiest. There were bigger tits. Better asses too.
But none had her style. Taking the chair across from me, she communicated mostly with her eyes as she inched closer in excruciating increments. Edging in, her knees slid inside mine. In time, her hands were on my thighs. Every once in a while, she'd whisper: Let's dance ... I want to dance with you. Eyes. A little grin. That slit in her dress a giant tease. I had to have her. Less than 30 minutes later, she was giving me a sweet blowjob. It was more money than I usually care to spend. And worth it.
There was nothing so subtle about my seduction at another club. This was one of those Jersey clubs that specialize in Latinas and that isn't all that discriminating about their looks (or attire). This was my first visit, so I was disappointed that none of the girls was attractive. I was further disappointed when one of the least attractive among the unattractive dancers was the first to attempt my seduction.
I like them slim, and she was anything but. Butt? Hers was giant and not what I wanted. Yet she had game. Her greeting for me wasn't just verbal. She engaged half my brain with her "hello" and the other half with her hand. My rejection of her offer to fuck didn't stop her from straightening my erection in my shorts. My "no" to a blowjob didn't feel much like a negative as she continued stroking my cock. Give me $25, she said, and I'll jack you off right here at the bar.
This is the sure thing. While I honestly wasn't sure I was ready to expose my dick to the air of the bar and the eyes of everyone else, I heard a "yes" come from my mouth. That was a good thing because she already had my zipper down and my dick in her hand. Next thing I know it feels as if my pole had never been longer or thicker. The orgasm, wrapped as it was in more than her hand, had me rocking and shaking. One of the best ever.
There are girls who don't understand the fundamentals of this concept - that they are the ones who are supposed to be bidding for us. Just the other night, I found myself at a club without my preferred options. Because I was desperate and because she had a great-looking rack, I went back with her anyway. Sure thing? No. Not even in a club where extras are ordinary. As I feared, she expected the tits to do all the work. I cut my losses by cutting the dance off. Her request for a tip wasn't met.
Sometimes the girls who struggle with the basic concept do figure it out. At another club where extras were easy, one of the cutest dancers wasn't obliging. Though we'd been to the couch several times, she was cold to any suggestion that my pants come off. I was a regular at this club, which means she saw me go back with others several times. She began asking why we never go back with her anymore. I was honest. I told her I wanted to fuck. I told her I'd pay the going rate, which was $100 plus $25 a song. She walked away.
Some months later, she sat down at my table and said so long as it's four songs, we could do it. So back we went. She had a prime athletic body. She removed her top. I slid down my pants. She dropped between my legs and delivered a porn-style blowjob that was almost too good. Then she stood. Down went the tiny panties, revealing one of the tiniest, prettiest clefts I've ever seen. Another lick to make my raging rod super wet, then she straddled my legs. The site of that swollen head and shaft disappearing into her little slit was too much. Didn't need four songs. Paid for them anyway. Was worth it.
Strip clubs are a great concept, as we all know. You drink a beer, and girls in skimpy attire magically seem to offer themselves. The men don't sweat her moods or pick a restaurant. Even might not have to worry about what to wear. Near the bar and the neon lights, everything seems to be aligned for our nasty minds.
I appreciate this whole seduction thing. I do. It's the basis for a wonderful fantasy. Even when I don't get laid. There's tits and ass too.
Adjudicators
jaybud999
Yes, I completely agree with the game part of the GAME. They can be a 5, with a 10 game.....they just have to find you.
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12 comments
You wrote and I quote:
“Down went the tiny panties, revealing one of the tiniest, prettiest clefts I've ever seen.”
Pics and Vids or it didn’t happen.
:D
Good Times, Good Times.
I’d watch it. With my hand in my pants.