I was riding on the bus to Cashel Castle for a university field trip when my Irish agent called me for a hen party last Saturday. His timing was horrible. He had a party for me at 11:30 in Cork. I could make it, but I would have to rush. Several other students on the bus gave me curious looks as I went through the details with my agent on the phone.
After the phone conversation, my agent sent me a text message with the party details, including a contact number for a girl named Lucille (again, not her real name). I called Lucille and planned to meet her at the location of the hen party---a club called Door 51. Lucille said that she reserved a private room for her hen party. A private room sounded great, because I don't like stripping in front of a whole crowd of strangers.
I finished up my field trip at Cashel, which I found very cold and boring. On the way back, I asked Val, a fellow student from London, if she'd like to accompany me. I previously told her that I was a male stripper, so she already knew about what I was going to do. She told me that she would love to go.
When I returned from Cashel, I showered, prepared, and retrieved Val from her place of residence. Val and I took a cab to Door 51. The time was a little past 11 o'clock, so it was already dark. Val told me that she would go inside Door 51 and get a drink while I called Lucille. I gave Val my bag that held my camera as she went inside.
As for Door 51, I'll post a few pictures for description:
Above in the entrance. Of course, it was dark when I arrived.
Above is the interior.
Lucille came out and met me. She gave me the money and described that the hen (the bachelorette) was wearing a halo over her head. I thought that was strange, but made a mental note to look for a girl with a halo.
"By the way," Lucille said, looking me up and down and grinning. "These girls are going to rape you."
Somehow, I knew she wasn't kidding.
She led me into the club. As I entered, a short white man and a tall, broad black man approached me.
"Are you the stripper for tonight?" the short man asked.
I told him that I was.
"Then I have to tell you the rules. Do your routine, but whatever you do, don't pull your cock out. We do not allow that here."
The large black man, who spoke in a heavy Irish accent, also repeated the rules. He told me, with a stern expression, that under no circumstances was I suppose to strip completely nude. Then, his face relaxed and he joked that my job seemed much more enjoyable than his.
After I was done talking with the two bouncers, I followed Lucille back to the private room. I wondered why they lectured me about pulling my cock out if I was going to dance in a private room. I discovered why. Here is a picture of the private room:
The private room wasn't so private. The view of the room was open to the rest of the club. Most of the people in the club would be able to see within. On top of that, the hen party only took up half the space of it. Other club-goers sat and drank nearby. Oh well. This is the life of a stripper---to strip in front of strangers.
I entered and the girls started looking at me. I saw a sea of girls, mostly platinum blondes, but I couldn't find the girl with a halo until the girls started pointing at her. I went up to her and started stripping admist a roar of cheers. I consciously felt a crowd gather around the not-so-private private room.
I stripped slowly. I took off my jacket, then my shirt. As I unbuckled my belt, I teased by slowly pulling down my pants. The other girls would have none of it. I felt several hands grab my pants to pull them down with force.
"Take it all off!" I heard one of the girls say.
I felt another hand grab the back of my thong. She pulled my thong at least a foot away from my ass. She released it and it snapped painfully back onto my ass. I looked up and saw a massive crowd gathering to stare at my performance. I didn't pay them heed for long, because by now, several other girls were attempting to pull down my thong. I hooked my fingers around the front pouch to prevent public exposure of my crotch. Several hands slapped my ass and grabbed various parts of me. I felt a hand pull the front of my thong down. I looked down in time to see a blonde girl grabbing my cock.
I tore away from them long enough to pull my thong back on and dance with the bachelorette. I wanted to maintain some control of the party. I picked up the bachelorette and placed her onto the long couch that lined the wall. I climbed atop of her and placed my crotch near her face.
Something tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and saw the bachelorette's friend. "Please don't get on top of her like that," she said. "That's too much."
I was surprised. These girls found it perfectly acceptable to rip my clothes off, but disapproved of me climbing atop of one of them. This concept was the opposite of America.
I resumed dancing with a few other girls... or at least tried to dance. They mostly dragged, jostled, and grabbed at me. They were tugging at me like a pack of wolves fighting over a piece of meat. I saw a group of men sitting nearby glancing at me in what I perceived as envy. They didn't have any women with them, but at this point, I needed a break.
The girls continued attacking me even when I called for pictures. We would pose for the camera, and I'd feel a hand grab me. Once girl tried to make out with me for a picture. Several more straddled me. By the time I finished, I was exhausted.
Apparently, several bystanders who weren't with the party came up and took pictures. The girls and I posed for them. Val, to my surprise, took out my camera and snapped a few pictures as well. I'll upload one for your convenience.
I entered and they immediately started touching me.
As I was leaving, Lucille and several other Irish showered me in compliments. While I receive compliments in the States, they compare nothing to what the Irish girls tell me. They treated me like I was the hottest celebrity to step foot in the country. Both this party and the previous one continually lavished me with praises.
Overall, Irish girls have a different take on male strippers than most American girls. The Irish girls at Door 51 groped and molested me more than any other American party in comparison. Despite this, I find that stripping in Ireland to be more taxing than in America. Most American parties tend to be more relaxing while I felt tense here in Ireland. This may be because I'm not used to stripping in Ireland yet. I do enjoy the appreciation that the Irish girls give me. And the pay is much better.