Oh, so THAT'S what they mean by 'extras'...
I will reveal myself now as a guy who is somehow simultaneously A) a longtime visitor of strip clubs, and B) a guy who's so polite he hasn't had that much actual experience with girls who offer 'extras.' There, I said it.
Pair that up with a more recent development of ED, and my hunger to go looking for 'extras' is curtailed further. I became appreciative of chatting and caressing and cuddling.
So it turns out that The Gentlemen's Club, in the Glendale/Burbank-adjacent area, is a club that seems to be all about 'extras.' Maybe it's what the crumbling economy has done to our lovely dancing girls.
I went on a Tuesday night, late (perhaps midnight or just after). I wasn't even feeling all that horny. I saw one customer and about six dancers. I was visited by four: Foxy (thick/busty, white), Aspen (slender, white), Zara (thick, black), and S*** (slender, Asian or mixed). All friendly, easy to chat with. I am more turned on by slender girls, so I had private dances with Aspen and S***.
I chose 20 minutes for $220 both times. Aspen was first, and as she disrobed I asked about her boundaries, and she gave me a naughty smile and said, "none." I eventually could feel that she was wet, and enjoyed some digital exploration while she was writhing all over me. She has an upbeat disposition and it was a good time, lots of smiles.
I didn't feel done, but in my case feeling "done" doesn't mean I've climaxed and don't need any more stimulation, it just means I wanted more touching and caressing, if I could find it.
That's when S*** joined me. The place wasn't very loud, but we still had some trouble understanding each other, so I assume there was a language thing going on. I went for a 20-minute/$220 session with S***.
She has perky little tits, which is a turn-on for me, and got pretty busy undressing and climbing all over me. Then she whispered in my ear, clear as a bell, "Do you want head?" I smiled and told her I didn't think I was capable of receiving it, due to my junk being broken and all. I asked if she wanted to use her hands. Next thing I know, my cock is out, she has put a condom on it, and she's using her patented vacu-form technique to pull my guy into something that looked a lot like an erection. I was impressed, and it felt nice.
I could tell after a while that it might not actually go anywhere, it might remain a kind of illusion of hardness, but it was nice for Junior to get all this attention. I asked her to come up next to me on the bench and kneel next to me, which gave me more access to fondling her, including the kitty.
She was committed, I have to say that, and probably 17 minutes of the 20-minute session was vacu-forming my cock, and I reassured her a lot that it was still a win, even with no discernible happy ending. I gave her a $60 tip for the heroic effort. At the very least I have some lovely mental pictures of a porn-like private dance with a lovely, hard-working girl. I believe one of the girls told me that half of the private dance money goes to the house (so $110 of the $220 for my 20-minute privates).
On my way out I realized I hadn't tipped the bartender for my San Pellegrino, so I gave her all the singles I didn't use at the stage, since no one ever danced while I was there. If I remember correctly, it was $20 to get in, and the mandatory drink was $10 (I think).
And now I know what a visit to an 'extras'-oriented club is like—so if my junk ever starts working again (Viagra and Cialis make me feel like I'm having a heart attack, so they're no fun), I think I could handle myself like less of a noob.
