Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The Trainee - Part 1

Recently, one of my companies has been expanding its business and hiring new guys left and right. They recently tasked me to training and hiring rookies in my area. I thought this would be an easy task. Hell, I wrote the book on it, right? Well, it hasn't been as easy as I had thought.

My first trainee has a lot of potential. Let's call him Craig. I met him at the gym. Blond hair, blue-eyes, and very muscular, he has his fair pick of women. In terms of physical conditioning and height, he has me beat completely. I think he looks much better, too. In fact, he has won several bodybuilding and physique competitions in his time, and he's the one who gives me training advice.

However, all of those attributes do not translate into success in this industry... But they do help. 

He tagged along with me to his first bachelorette party. I had him watch me for a few minutes before joining in.

It was a tougher crowd than usual because most of the girls were shy and didn't want to participate. The girls, along with the bride, were still quite sober. I managed to get them to play along, but I could see an inexperienced male stripper struggle with them. Then I motioned for the Craig to join in.

He stripped out of his clothes for the bride. He was doing fine, but then he decided to try a little too hard. He attempted to execute a few acrobatic dance moves, utilizing the coffee table in the living room as a prop. He succeeded in knocking over several drinks, causing them to spill everywhere. 

I shuffled past Craig, whispering to him in a low voice, "No acrobatics or anything. Those moves will end up breaking furniture in small places like this." 

Craig nodded in response as I assisted the girls in cleaning up the mess. Craig continued focusing on the bride.

When Craig took off his shirt, the girls were impressed. His torso looked like a super hero from a comic book. The tips started flowing well for him until he became drenched in sweat. Then they didn't want to touch him. He motioned for me to take the spotlight with the bride.

I went down my usual list of games for bachelorette parties: body shots, bobbing for dollars, and lick-the-icing-off-the-stripper. Craig watched in the background and took note. In between games, I asked if he wanted to try his hand, but he declined and pointed to his body, which was still drenched in sweat.

I wrapped up the party after the last game, because the girls didn't want anything too wild. I asked the paying customer how Craig did, and she gave a thumbs up. "He was a little sweaty," she said, "But he did fine."

Before I left, I knelt down in front of the bride and congratulated her on her upcoming marriage. "You were very sweet and polite the whole time," I told her. "And you're also very beautiful, and your soon-to-be-husband is a lucky man to have you. I wish you both the best."

Tears welled up in her eyes as I spoke. She wiped one eye and said, "That's so sweet..." 

We hugged, and the other girls thanked me.

"Now I feel like we're friends," the bride said to me. I smiled and kissed her cheek.

When we left, I told Craig he did a great job. He really did. Not every guy can walk into a room full of girls and strip down to a thong and dance with ease.

"Man, I usually don't sweat like that," he said. "But I got so nervous! Those girls were hot. I wasn't expecting them to be so damn hot."

"Most parties are full of hot girls," I said. "You get used to it. Just pace yourself with the dancing. No crazy dance moves. If you have four or five parties in a row, you'd tire yourself out. Plus, you don't want to accidentally fall or kick a girl."

"Definitely. Sorry about that."

I waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. You gotta make mistakes to learn. But the girls liked you, which is good. Looking forward to the next party?"
"You know it, brother."

I continued giving Craig pointers about the job as I drove him back to his house. Teaching someone how to become a good male stripper isn't easy. Craig had a few more shows after this, and I'd have to do this all over again with the other new employees. 

Monday, September 26, 2016

The Stripper with the Tank Top Tan Line

During a bachelorette party last Saturday, one of the girls shared with me her one and only bad experience with a male stripper. For the sake of the story, we call the girl Amber.

The bachelorette party took place in North Carolina. Amber's aunt booked a male stripper through some random company. Amber and her friends did not know the details, even though I was curious as to which company it was.

The male stripper showed up, and the girls disliked him immediately. According to Amber and her friends, the guy wasn't very muscular or good looking. He lacked charisma and class. To top it all off, he had a horrible tank top tan line.

"Basically, once he took off his shirt, it looked like he was still wearing a white tank top," Amber said. "It was really unattractive."

Then the guy tried to do several acrobatic moves on the living room couch, which resulted in him falling off the couch and crashing onto the floor three separate times. The girls became terrified of being near him because they didn't want to risk injury from his horrible dance moves.

Eventually the girls had enough and told him that the strip show was over. This infuriated the male stripper.

"He complained that we didn't tip him enough," Amber said. "We asked him to leave, but he said he wasn't leaving until we gave him more money, so he went outside and sat on the front porch for an hour! He only left when my aunt came outside and threatened to call the police on him."

I wonder what kind of company would hire a guy like that. 

Moral of the story: Tips are a much-earned privilege; not an entitlement. Demanding tips from customers lacks class, so don't do it. Also, staying at a party once the girls ask you to leave is called "trespassing." Don't do that, either.

As for Amber, she was really sweet and quite flirty with me. So that guy must have really screwed up to get asked to leave early, because Amber and her friends were an easy and fun party as far a typical stripping gig goes.









Sunday, September 25, 2016

Male Stripping - Then vs. Now

Thanks to technology, the male stripping industry has undergone many changes in the past 20 years.

Since starting my career in 2003, I have witnessed many of these changes firsthand from then until now. Some bad, but most good.

Here are some of the major changes:

Navigation - Back Then

In 2003, I could access Mapquest (the go-to site before Google Maps), put the address, and print the directions to my private parties. However, most male strippers at the time weren't so internet-savvy and relied on actual road atlases and written directions from the customer, combined with further verbal instructions via phone if they got lost. 

Even with directions from Mapquest, we still had to pay attention to all the details of the road. We constantly missed our turns and had to turn around and backtrack, losing precious time. Imagine getting lost in the middle of the woods at night with no reception on your cell phone and you're running late for your party. 

This all sucked, mind you. But I can still probably find my way around those roads I used back in 2003 and 2004 to this very day, even though I have long since moved away.

Navigation - Now

You no longer need to pull over and turn on the light.
It's easy. Just use a GPS, or load up the Google Maps app on the smart phone and punch in the address. Over 95% of the time, you'll have no problem!

No more calculating your own arrival time. No more wasting time charting your course and going over maps. No more shitty written directions from customers or wasting printer ink with Mapquest.

Younger guys take this shit for granted, but the navigational options today are a godsend in this industry.


Music - Back Then

Hauling these things around sucked ass.
Titus, the male stripper who trained me, used a big boombox with a dual cassette tape deck, powered by more than half-a-dozen D-sized batteries. The boombox was the size of a child's car seat, took up just as much room, and weighed as much as a fat child. Titus had to lug this monstrosity to the party and ask the girls to hit "play" on the correct cassette deck. Sometimes, he would have the luxury to plug in the boombox with the AC cord, which often entangled itself around surrounding objects.

Unlike Titus, I utilized the technology available at the time and burned MP3s onto a CD, and used a smaller boombox. It was still annoying to carry around, but mine was powered by C-sized batteries, therefore weighing less. I thought I was smarter than him, but CDs skip and cassette tapes don't, which I found out whenever somebody bumped my boombox.

I hated these damn things, since I was always forgetting them at parties. These things weren't cheap, often averaging $70 to $100 for the lower end models. Throughout my career, I lost a total of three. Titus ended up stealing one of mine when he left his behind at a party... then he lost mine, too!

There was only one perk to carrying one of these around: it made for a great weapon in case of danger. You could seriously smash someone's skull with one of these things. 

Music - Now

Much easier on the back to carry.
It's very easy! Buy a Bluetooth speaker and sync it with your smartphone. 

With the rechargeable batteries, I no longer need to buy those large batteries anymore. The Bluetooth speaker can clip onto the belt loop of my pants, which ensures that I will never forget the damn thing, because I never leave the party without my pants. The smartphone can play anything from Spotify, Youtube, or your personal MP3 collection, and now I can use the internet to play any song upon request! No more worrying about whether the crowd will dislike your music or not.

So not only did technology lighten my load and made everything easy to carry, it gave me more music options.

Yeah, fuck that boombox. I don't miss those damn monstrosities at all!


Booking Companies - Back Then

You can see the roster next to the mannequin.
With the exception of male revues and big brand names like Chippendales, most customers had to go to lingerie stores or other similar small companies to book male strippers for their bachelorette parties. When I was in Gainesville, Florida, there was a lingerie store called French Addiction that had a roster of male strippers on the wall for all customers to see. The customers usually lived around the Gainesville area, and so did most of the strippers.

In 2003, internet bookings were around, but not as common. Many customers distrusted booking a guy from the internet. And who could blame them? There was widespread hesitation about using a credit card on some male stripper site, or ordering a stranger from online. People felt safer getting the dancer from a local business. Customers felt that there was more accountability with a walk-in business -- if things didn't go their way, they figured they could return for a refund or complain.

Booking Companies - Now

They sprouted up all over the internet. This is mostly a good thing since there are more companies, there are more opportunities for male strippers and customers alike. A brief Google search yields one's needs in seconds. 

However, most of these national booking companies place more emphasis on sales numbers and less on quality. Unlike the local companies of the past, the chances of women getting the stripper of their choice is almost zero. These companies often lie to make a sale, and there is often no accountability for their actions or dancers. Moreover, some of these companies have never even met their dancers. They just hire them over the internet. 

Unfortunately, these national companies are the norm these days. There are a few good ones, but most of them engage in shady business practices.

Cameras - Back Then

Digital cameras were not big when I started. Women took pictures, but they had to use actual cameras. During my time in college, most used disposable cameras. Every now and then, someone had a fancy Nikon or Canon with a nice lens. Then, they had to go and develop the pictures later. Hence, I never had the chance to see their pictures.

It was rather easy to enforce a "no picture" policy, though. If someone tried to snipe a photo, chances are that you would see the flash.

Although cameras floated around at every party, not every girl had one like a phone, so they took fewer pictures as a result. In fact, I have very few pictures of my early parties due to this very reason. I'd have to bring my own camera and ask one of the girls to take pictures for me. Then I'd have to scan the pics if I wanted to show them to someone on the Internet.

Video cameras were even more scarce. Throughout my early years, I recall seeing less than half a dozen at all of my parties combined.

The upside to this was that social media blunders weren't so much of a problem.


Cameras - Now

Smartphones have shaken up the industry. It's almost impossible to enforce a "no picture" policy. Girls are filming and taking pics as soon as the stripper walks through the door. These videos and pics instantly go live on Snapchat and Instagram immediately. Some even pop up on Facebook.

For those looking to strip with a low profile, this is appalling. Tell the girls to not take pictures, and a few will pull out their phone and snap a few anyway. You cannot monitor a dozen or more phones at once.

The upside is that it's easier than ever to get pics and videos of the party! As a matter of fact, my collection of pics this month (September, 2016) far exceeds the combined pics from my first four years of stripping.

I think this is great, because I like looking at the pictures. They help me remember each individual party. 


Phones - Back Then

I can only imagine the inconvenience male strippers faced in the 80's and 90's by using landlines as their only source of communication.

Most people had cell phones when I started, but there were a few middle-aged and older customers who refused to use them. This made communication a pain in the ass. I remember trying to get a hold of one customer who would not answer the damn phone because she wasn't even around the phone. If she had a cell phone, I would have reached her to get directions. But no, I couldn't. So she called the owner up and complained on me because I was late.

Phones - Now

Everyone uses cell phones now. Most use text messaging. Almost everyone, especially millenials, keep their phones within arms reach at all times. This makes communication easier than ever!

I rarely struggle with getting a hold of the customer now like I did in 2003. Even if the customer doesn't answer the phone, I can just leave her a text message.

Communication, or lack of, is rarely an issue anymore.


Final Verdict

I'm thankful for this new technology. It makes stripping so much easier. I wish I had all this shit available back when I started in 2003! I would have saved me a whole lot of time and effort.

It's really better to be a male stripper these days. Everything is just so damn convenient. The only thing that hasn't changed is transportation. If someone could just invent teleportation, then my job would be almost perfect.








Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Male Stripper Cupcakes: The Cheap Way to Make Them

I've posted a few penis cakes already, especially the more creative ones. Well, this party didn't have a penis cake. They used cupcakes instead, complete with a cheap male stripper cut-out.

It was definitely handmade, and after studying it for a few seconds, I figured out how to make one:


1. Save a few pictures of muscular men.

2. Print them in black and white. (note: if you want it just like the picture, then use a low dpi resolution setting for your printer).

3. Take a pair of scissors and cut out the men.

4. Tape or glue cardboard to the back of the picture so it's not so flimsy.

5. Glue the picture/cardboard to a popsicle stick.

6. Stick in cupcake.

7. Enjoy! You just saved the bachelorette party the trouble of getting a penis cake!


Disclaimer: I'm not responsible for rude or snarky comments made about the quality of your male stripper cupcakes.



Tuesday, September 13, 2016

One-night Stand with a Nurse

Earlier this summer, I met a nurse named Krysten at a bachelorette party. She was 26, had long chestnut hair, and her blue eyes contrasted with her tanned skin. She wore a black one-piece dress that showed off her long legs. Basically, most men in this world would line up for a moment with her.

The bachelorette party consisted of six girls also in their 20's, and it took place in a two-story beach house in Florida. The girls had me show up in a cop outfit to surprise the bride. I did my regular stripping routine and the girls enjoyed taking body shots and whip cream off of me. Their excessive drinking further fueled their enthusiasm for these activities. When one dastardly girl sprayed a little too much on my mouth, Krysten took the pleasure in licking it off, kissing me in the process and commenting how horny she was in front of her friends. It must have been the alcohol talking.

Therefore, I wasn't surprised when Krysten offered to walk me out when I finished my performance. She helped gather my belongings and walked with me downstairs where it was dark. We were alone, and we talked while I started to put on my clothes (I wasn't going to drive home in my police costume). She told me about her friend's upcoming wedding and how she didn't want to be the only single girl there. "Maybe you can be my date," she joked. 

"That would really surprise everyone," I said, grabbing one of my button-down shirts out of my bag. "I'd do it." 

She laughed. "Oh my God! They would be in shock."

"But I'm sure you'll have a date by then."

"No... I won't." 

"You will, but let's trade numbers. If you don't have a date by then, call me and I'll be your date."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'll be your date," I replied.

"That would be so awesome!" she said.

I grinned as I put my shirt on. "So where would I stay during the wedding?"

"In my hotel room, of course."

"Oh? So would we be sharing the same bed?"

"That's up to you," she said, leaning towards me. "Here, let me help you with that..." She began to button my shirt. She couldn't even fasten the first button before we embraced into a kiss. She paused for a moment. "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm doing this..."

I couldn't believe I was doing this, either. She looked so hot. That black dress clung tightly to her frame. Her perfume smelled sweet. Her tongue caressed mine in such a soft and passionate way. I grabbed her ass, which felt round and firm.

Krysten's hand reached down and unbuttoned my pants. Then her hand reached in and grasped the front of my thong, massaging my cock, which was bulging more and more against the fabric. She pulled it thong down, freeing my hardening member, and began stroking me. I longed to be inside her.

The girls upstairs, unaware of our presence below, burst into laughter about something. It was enough to distract us.

"What if someone comes down?" I asked, looking up the stairs.

"Here," she said, grabbing my hand and leading me to a nearby bedroom. "Just letting you know: I never do this."

I have lost count how many times I heard that line throughout my years as a male stripper.

As soon as we entered the bedroom, Krysten shut the door, pulled her dress off, and sat down on the bottom half of a bunk bed. Only a thong remained on her. I removed my clothes, including my thong and climbed into bed with her.

We resumed kissing again, this time with more passion. I began sucking on her breasts, which were small, but round and perky. I traced my hand between her legs, feeling the mesh fabric of her thong, and the outline of her pussy beneath. Pulling the thong aside, I gently touched her clit. She moaned.

"I never do this..." she repeated between bouts of kissing.

"Do you want me to stop?" I whispered.

"No..."

I sat up and grabbed the side strings of her thong and began tugging downwards. She thrust her hips upward, as if willing me to remove her underwear and have my way with her. Once I removed it, I spread her legs, and began kissing her inner thighs, which felt firm, yet smooth as silk. I worked my way upwards slowly until I was between her legs. Just as I tasted her, she moaned and bucked her hips in pleasure.

When I began licking her clit, she grabbed my hair by a fistful and pulled me forcefully towards me.

"Oh my God. You're so good. You do this all the time."

I said nothing, but continued on, sticking a finger inside. She was so wet that it slid in with ease. I tasted and fingered her in a steady motion. Her hips thrust towards me in pulsating response. Her gasps became deeper, and her moans became more audible. I wondered if the girls upstairs could hear. As Krysten climaxed, she pulled my hair with one hand, and dug her nails into my arm with the other.

"That was amazing," she gasped. "You must do this to girls all the time."

I did not reply to that.

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked, caressing me with her right hand.

"I want you to suck my cock," I said.

"Lay down," she said.

She grabbed my semi-hard cock, and wrapped her lips around it. I could feel her tongue swirling on the head. She slowly went downward, the moistness of her mouth feeling ever more amazing. Her saliva glistened down the shaft of my cock. Her mouth couldn't go very far down the length of my cock, but she used her saliva as a lubricant and used her hand to stroked me while she bobbed up and down with her mouth. She was good at this, and by now, I was painfully hard and wanting more.

Krysten stopped for a moment and said, "I can taste your pre-cum."

"Get on top," I said, reaching for a condom.

She complied, swinging a leg over. "I bet you do this all the time," she said, but nonetheless, began rubbing her wet pussy up and down the shaft of my cock. She lifted herself off of me enough so I could put on the condom. Then, she grabbed my cock and placed the head against the threshold of her pussy.

I entered very slowly at first. She gasped and winced as she slid down inch by inch. Even with the condom, I could feel her tightness. "You feel so good," I told her. "If I weren't wearing a condom, I would be cumming inside you right now."

Krysten bit her bottom lip. "Don't tempt me..."

She eventually eased herself into a steady rhythm. I grasped her small waist while she rode me. She had some very sexy abs on her midsection, that widened just perfectly into a set of firm hips. She was definitely the hottest girl at the party.

After a few moments, I flipped her onto her back, and began fucking her in the missionary position. I was getting close to cumming, and Krysten could tell.

"I want you to cum all over me," she said.

Hearing her utter those words gave me a brief image of her coated in cum, and that turned me on even more. I continued thrusting until I felt the pressure build up and I was on the verge of exploding. Then I pulled out and took the condom off just in time for the first load to spurt out and glanced off the side of her face, mostly landing in her hair. The second one overshot her, and landed somewhere on the bed sheets. The subsequent loads coated her chest and midsection. It looked like white frosting on her tanned skin.

"Wow. That feels really hot!" she said, stroking my leg. "I mean it feels hot, but it's your cum feels hot as in really warm."

I put the head of my cock against her clit, and slowly milked the rest of my cum out there. I shuddered as the sensitivity overtook me.

After I recovered, I got up to fetch a towel to help Krysten clean up. We talked for a bit, and that's when I found out more about Krysten, such as her age and occupation. During a pause in our conversation, she fell asleep.

I woke her up after a few minutes to announce that I was leaving. I had work (my actual day job) the next day and was only going to get a few hours of sleep at this rate. She got up and walked me to my car. On the way out, one of her friends, who was sitting outside talking on the phone, gave us a look of shock.

"Great!" Krysten said. "Now I'm going to have the reputation of being the girl who had sex with the stripper."

"And you care what others think?" I asked her.

Apparently, she did. Nevertheless, she walked me to my car. We talked about going on a date later, but she still seemed flustered about her friend seeing us.

"Text me when you get home, so I know you arrived safely," she said, kissing me once more. "I worry about things like that."

I left and texted her when I arrived home as promised.

The next day, she replied, "We all had a great time last night. I don't remember what I said to you last night, because I was drunk. Good luck with everything."

I never heard from her again. I'm guessing she was embarrassed about her friends finding out about our after-party tryst. I wish it was something more than a one-night stand because she was extremely gorgeous, but there are more parties and more girls on the horizon.