When Barry came to me and said he had a job that didn’t require touching any dirty old men or stuffing any of their cocks in between my pouty lips, you can bet I was in. It was stripping, of course. I find I end up at the local strip joints all too often when cash gets tight.
Barry owns the one closest to me, really the nicest one in town, and asks me to work when he’s short. Tonight he was extremely short, and the place was packed. I decided that to earn a little extra cash, I’d let the men bid on the songs I was going to dance to. I got the entire pot, and I didn’t care which mumble rapper or hair metal song was chosen.
Of course, with my luck, the first one up was that old Akon song talking about how much he wants to fuck the stripper. I slowly pulled off my chiffon top, revealing nothing beneath. A long, low wolf whistle pierced through the racket as I shimmied my way out of my skirt.
As I started gliding my barely dressed body up and down the pole, my eyes met the whistles. I almost instantly dropped my knees; what a fucking man. He made a beckoning gesture, so I sauntered my way through the crowd to him. He patted his lap, and handed me two nicely folded, crisp Ben Franklin’s.
Into his lap I went, as the music blasted around us. It was only then that I realized he had his cock pulled out, and he was pulling my little thong to the side. He slipped into me before I even knew what was happening, and I just kept winding and grinding up on him. Surprisingly enough, before the end of the song was even over, I felt like I was ready to cum.
He had his hands around the front of me, tweaking at my nipples, and growling in my ear how badly he had wanted to fuck me since the first time he saw me here. As the song ended, and the next girl took the stage, he held me firmly. One hand around my throat, the other on my hip, and I continued to bounce on his cock along to the music.
My cunt was dripping like a waterfall and there was nothing I could do to hide how fucking turned on I was. I glanced around nervously, wondering if any of the other patrons realized what was going on. From the shit eating grin on their faces, it was obvious that they did. Three songs later, I felt him explode inside of me.
I screamed, but thankfully the music covered it up. As I went to walk away, he handed me a business card with only an address and another three hundred. Written on the back of his card was that he had a pole installed in his office, and he expected me there tomorrow morning, dressed exactly the same. There’s no way I could refuse. I didn’t even know his name.
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