Friday, September 30, 2011

Tropical Storm Blackout: Part 2

Continued from this story: Tropical Storm Blackout: Part 1

Party #3

Sept. 3rd, Saturday. 1 male dancer. Arrival time: 8:30 pm. (Address and phone numbers not included. Hotel room #606. Contact Mindy. 12-15 girls. Bachelorette. Collect $250 cash.

I called Mindy and told her that I would be late. Very late.

"No worries," she said. "Just get here when ya can. We're watching the L.S.U. game and won't be doing anything till it's done."

That was a relief. I spent the next three hours driving through torrential rain. I was running so late that I could not afford any time to stop for food or a bathroom break As the time approached 11 o'clock, Mindy called me worried. The football game was over and the other girls were wanting to go out to the bar. She was having trouble keeping them occupied.

"I'm almost there," I assured her.

"Okay, I'll try to dish out two more party games to buy some time."

I thanked her. A lot of customers would have been upset with me by now. I was wondering if I would even make it on time and that presented a problem if I didn't. If the girls went out to the bar, then I would probably have to go with them, wait for them to finish, or just cut the party as a loss---which would not only make my agent furious, but it would cause me to lose money, time, and gasoline.

At 11:20, Mindy called me again. "Where are you? The girls are trying to go to the bar now."

I had just entered the parking garage of the hotel. "I'm here," I said. Now the anxiety about arriving in time was over, and a new one took its place: I had to piss. Bad. The only thing on my mind was how I was going to make it through the performance without pissing on myself or someone else, and I sure wasn't going to ask to use the bathroom before starting. I cannot explain why I don't do that, but I find it not only unprofessional, but it ruins any routine.

I exited the parking garage on the eastern side of the building and hurried along on a balcony walkway that gave a view of the beach on the south side, and the highway and shops on the north side. The police shirt and gun belt was under my arm, and I felt like a creep skulking about. I rounded a corner and almost collided with two girls. Both were short, tanned, petite, and had brown hair. However, the main difference was one girl had straight hair and the other had curly.

"Dion?" the girl with curly hair asked. I nodded. She extended her hand. "I'm Mindy, and this is my sister, Hannah. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. I'm so sorry again for being late," I told her, shaking both girls' hands.

"No worries! I am so happy you made it. Here is two-fifty," Mindy said with a warm smile, handing me the cash. "Can you give me two minutes to get the bachelorette ready?"

"Sure, take your time," I said, relieved. "I have to put on my uniform anyway."

"How should we do this?" Hannah said, the sister with straight hair. "This is our first time having a male stripper."

I told them that I would pretend to be an officer responding to a noise complaint and to stuff the bachelorette with dollar bills. Yes, I know---typical routine, but it works most of the time. I even wonder how women fall for it. There is nothing coincidental about a cop showing up at the door during a bachelorette party.

The girls loved my idea, of course. "Okay, just give us two minutes," Mindy said. "Then knock on the door. It's room 606."

The first thing I did when the girls left was search for the stairwell. Unlike the open balcony, it was enclosed by thick concrete walls. I looked up and down the stairwell and listened. No one was in the stairwell except me. I unbuttoned my pants and took a nice long piss into a corner. I hated doing such things because I felt like a homeless man, but I couldn't hold it anymore. If the girls could only see me now... I wondered if they would still hire me.

Once I finished, I donned on my police uniform and headed toward room 606. First I rang the doorbell. No answer. I knocked. No answer. I heard some girls talking and loud music inside. I knocked again. The sound of high heels clacking against the floor became louder and louder. The door flung open and a blonde girl with a tiara leaned on it. "Oooh, a police man. Is something wrong officer?"

"Yes ma'am," I said. "I received a noise complaint regarding this location. Are you in charge here?"

The blonde looked me up and down. "Aren't you sexy?"

I ignored her comment and made a show that the strong winds from the storm were bothering me. "Ma'am, may I come in and ask a few questions?"

"Sure," the blonde said, stepping aside and motioning me inside. "Are you gonna get naked?"

"Let's remain professional, ma'am," I said. About a dozen girls gathered in the living room. They all stared at me in silence, some smiling. The music droned quietly in the background. I walked behind the blonde and mouthed the words to the rest of the girls, "Is this her?"

Several girls nodded. I gestured toward a chair the chair and placed my hand on the blonde's should. "Could you sit down first?"

"I want you to handcuff me first, officer."

Damn, I thought I would be 3 for 3 tonight. This girl knew I wasn't a cop. She had to know. Still, I continued the cop routine. "Ma'am, please have a seat."

"Oooh, what are you gonna do to me?" she asked, sitting down.

"This." I straddled atop of her and thrust my crotch toward her face.

The blonde's mouth opened in surprise and she quickly covered it with her hands. The music pounded with each beat now; someone had the consideration to turn it up. Hands reached out from several direction to shove dollar bills into the blonde's bra and up her dress. The hands withdrew as quickly as they came, one hand slapping me on the ass during its retreat.

The blonde bachelorette uncovered her face. "Oh my God. I can't believe you bitches hired a stripper for me."

This time I was surprised. "You thought I was a cop the whole time?" Maybe I was 3 for 3.

I pulled off my police shirt first. Then, I asked the blonde to pull down and take off my pants. She took her time, rubbed her hands up and down my legs. After she pulled the last pant leg off, I squatted down and buried my face her breasts to extract the dollar bills. Close up, this girl had a smell of alcohol mixed with perfume. She looked at me with glassy eyes. "So am I allowed to make out with you?"

Her question left me speechless. No one had asked me such a request before and I didn't know how to answer her. Instead, I just continued to fish out dollar bills. After I finished with her, I stood up and asked who was next.

The bachelorette pulled a random girl from the crowd, whom I placed onto the couch. The only way I can describe this girl is that she was the typical "fake'n'bake" girl at a dance club: very tanned with heavy caked makeup. She wore a tight, black one-piece dress. The other girls stuffed money into her bra and I dove in headfirst to get it out. Next, I grabbed her ankles and spread apart her legs so that they formed a V-shape revealing her purple underwear with a camel toe imprint. With the front part of my thong, I rubbed against her camel toe, which caused the girl to squeal in surprise. Everyone laughed and took pictures, and the girl laughed and made funny faces as she posed for the cameras, such as opening her eyes wide and looking up and away while pursing her lips. I pretended to hump her a few more moments. As I helped her off the couch, the bachelorette had another girl ready for me.

The cycle continued. I introduced body shots next, and a few girls drank alcohol from my abs. Several girls, including Mindy, stood in the background and avoided participating. Mindy's sister, Hannah, behaved a whole lot differently.

"I want a picture with him cowgirl style," Hannah said.

I didn't know exactly what she wanted.

"Here, get down on the couch." Hannah pushed me onto the couch and staggered on top of me. Her black underwear beneath her purple dress grazed against my silver thong. She started bouncing like she was riding a bucking horse, except the bounces turned to pelvic thrusts. I admit, I was getting turned on. "Okay, take a few pictures like this, Mindy," Hannah called out.

"Whoa there," the bachelorette said. "This is my party and you're having all the fun. Move over, bitch." The bachelorette wedged herself between me and Hannah, so now I had two drunk girls sitting on me. Sometimes I can't believe that I get paid to do this.

After a few more rounds of body shots, dry-humping, and the occasional tea bagging, I was ready to wind down the party and leave. Therefore, I announced that it was time for group pictures. Like usual, I posed with the bachelorette to my left side. Hannah said that she wanted to be in the picture with me and rushed over to my right side. Mindy was the photographer. Hannah and the bachelorette wanted a picture that gave the illusion that they were grabbing my crotch, so they hovered their hands a few inches in front of me. The camera flashed several times. "Okay, just a few more," Mindy said. Hannah swatted at the bachelorette's hand, deliberately causing it to collide with my cock. She yelped and several girls laughed.

"You look really big," Hannah said. "Did you stuff your thong?"

I get this question at times. At first, I used to take women seriously when they asked me this and give a serious answer. But now, I learned to have a little fun with my answers. "Why don't you touch it and find out?"

Hannah decided to take my test. She gingerly reached her hand out and poked my cock. Unsatisfied, she grabbed and fondled. "Oh my God, it is real."

The whole party started laughing. Mindy chided Hannah, telling her to stop molesting me. The next thing Hannah did went beyond what I expected. I felt a pair of hands grab onto the straps of my thong, and I looked down in time to see her yank my thong down. Hannah let go to cup her mouth as I pulled my thong back up.

"Oh my God, Hannah---Stop that," Mindy said.

"So, how big are you when hard?" Hannah asked, her blue eyes full of lust.

"Hannah, stop molesting the stripper," Mindy said, then she turned to me. "I'm so sorry, I have never seen her like this."

"I think your sister is gonna rape me," I told her.

"Yeah, she must really like you."

"Is that so?" I asked. I draped an arm around Hannah and pulled her close. "So y'all think we'd make a good couple?"

Several girls agreed and said we would. Hannah leaned her head into me and placed her hand on my abs. "We would make beautiful male stripper babies," she said, drawing laughter from the crowd.

"Maybe we can arrange that sometime," I joked. In response, Hannah ran her hands down from my abs and began to massage my cock.

One girl announced that it was time to go out to the club. Hannah looked up at me. "Why don't you come along?" She squeezed me gently to emphasize her question.

I considered her offer.

However, fatigue from the previous two shows and several hours of driving had drained my energy, along with the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since leaving home at 3 p.m. All I wanted to do was go home, eat dinner, and relax. Besides, I had errands to run the next morning.

In response to my hesitation, Hannah dropped down to her knees, like she was a puppy begging for attention, and opened her mouth in front of the bulge of my thong. She stuck out her tongue and caressed the fabric covering the head of my cock with it. My breathing quickened. She stopped to look up at me and smile before resuming.

"Hannah, stop that," Mindy said, causing Hannah to halt what she was doing. "What has gotten into you? Oh my God, I'm so sorry. She must really want you. She never acts like this."

"It's okay," I said, laughing. Like I would be the one to complain.

Hannah stood up and grabbed my hands. "So are you going out with us?"

Despite how worn out I was, her offer tempted me to my core. Her face was so beautiful and I could only imagine how nice her petite body would feel against me in bed.

Experience has taught me the outcome though... I would go to the club with Hannah and get to know her better, meaning we would dance, make out, and grope. If she didn't become too drunk or too sick from all of the binge drinking, we would return to the condo after last call. Since all of the girls were holed up in the same condo, we would have to sneak off somewhere else (nowhere outside due to the storm) to have sex. I would either have to leave immediately afterwards, so as not to disturb the other girls staying there or stay and get two or three hours of sleep at the most. Dawn would soon break and leave me with a miserable drive back home along with errands to run.

"Sorry, I really do have to get going," I said, cringing on the inside. "I have a lot of things to do tomorrow..."

Hannah looked disappointed. I got dressed and thanked everyone for having me. Next, I went to Mindy and apologized again for being so late. She told me not to worry about it because the bachelorette was so surprised and happy. Hannah nestled up to me and begged me again to go out.

"You probably should get going," Mindy said, smiling. "My sister is acting crazy tonight for some reason.

With great reluctance, I managed to pry myself away from Hannah and leave the party. The drive home in the tropical storm was slow and uneventful. I arrived home at 2 a.m. After being on the road or at a party for the last eleven hours, I brought in over six hundred dollars. Not bad.

Just as I was ready to go to bed, I picked up my phone to set the alarm. My phone was one of those touch-screen phones, and sometimes they do unintentional things such as open unwanted programs, or worst: call someone. My phone was calling Angela(the girl who hired me for the first party tonight). I disconnected as soon as I could, but Angela called me back.

"Hey, did you need something?" she asked.

I apologized and explained to her how my phone randomly calls people sometimes because it's a touch screen. I don't know if she believed me, but she wasn't mad. She thanked me for coming out to strip at her party, and I thanked her for having me, and that was that... Or so I thought.

At 2:59 a.m., I received this message:
"We had a great time, you were hot! Wanna come over?"

Followed by this message at 3:00 a.m.:
"Omg ...sorry they stole my phone! Nevermind that have a good night."

I didn't respond. I just went to bed--to be awoken by my phone ringing. It was Angela. I ignored it and went back to sleep. The phone rang again, waking me up. It was Angela, yet again. I turned off the ringer.

The next morning, I checked my phone. Nothing more from Angela, but Mindy sent me a text message. Here was how the exchange went:

Mindy: "Thank you! The girls loved you! You were the highlight of our night."

Me: "Did everything go well afterward? Let me know if you need me again."

Mindy: "Lol. everything went great. We went out for a little while then everyone passed out. I will definitely let you know if we ever need you again!"

Me: "Glad to hear that. It's best to bring a leash for Hannah next time lol"

Mindy: "Haha she's not usually like that! She was wilder than normal for sure. You should feel lucky. Doesnt do that just for anyone lol"

I haven't heard back from Mindy or Angela since then, but I have a feeling that I may strip for Mindy and Hannah again in the future. We'll see.

***post-script note: One of the girls used my phone to take a picture of me with Hannah. I'll post it on this story as soon as I find a way to transfer the image from my phone to the computer.***

Sunday, September 18, 2011

September 17 Party

A man hired me last night to strip for his wife's 40th birthday. "I just want to surprise and embarrass my wife," he said.

The party took place in a rural subdivision in Alabama, and the house had a very nice pool with underwater lights of various colors. I saw a table with a fountain that spewed chocolate lined with strawberries, rice crispy treats, and pretzels. It was a mixed crowd of men and women in their thirties and forties, and they were all there to watch an Alabama Crimson Tide game. The husband met me outside, paid me, and lead me into the house. As soon as I entered, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. It was complete silence.

I must admit, I felt rather awkward. I ignored everyone and followed the husband through the house toward the backyard where the pool was. "She's right there," he said. "Go get her."

And I did. It was a simple dance. Another older guy handed her a few dollar bills. A woman stood nearby video taping me. The husband was taking pictures. After a few minutes of stripping and dancing, the wife pointed out a few more ladies for me. I danced with them for about five minutes at the most. Then, I announced pictures. Several women rushed towards me, eager to pose. One girl gave her camera to her husband and said, "Hold the camera vertical. I want his package in the picture."

Her husband laughed and took the picture. He handed the camera back to her and said, "There honey, I got you and him together, along with his package."

After a few more pictures with the other women, I was finished. Fifteen minutes of work and I earned my money. Easy money, I must say.


Regarding the rest of the Tropical Storm Blackout story, I'm almost done writing it. The third party was the most exciting, therefore taking the most time to write. It should be up soon though.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Tropical Storm Blackout

Tropical Storm Lee pounded the Gulf Coast on the weekend of September 3rd, ruining any chance for tourists to enjoy the sunny beach over the long Labor Day weekend. Although it was grey and gloomy outside, some girls on vacation took this opportunity to hire a male stripper at the last minute to brighten up their weekend. I had three parties on Saturday alone.

I'll summarize the highlights of Saturday, because too much happened over the weekend for me to even recollect a whole detailed account of everything.

Party #1

Here is the information that my agent messaged me:

Sept. 3rd, Saturday. 1 male dancer. Cop uniform. Arrival time: 5:30 pm. (Address and phone numbers not included). Contact Angela. 15 - 20 girls. Bachelorette Party. Collect $250 cash.

This party took place at a beach condo with stucco walls and Spanish-tiled roofing. I could see the huge waves that Tropical Storm Lee churned up in the Gulf crashing against the white beach behind the condo. Angela met me outside and smuggled me inside toward the bathroom so I could change into my police uniform.

At this point, I asked her for payment.

"Can I pay you with a credit card?" she asked.

"How?" I said. "I don't carry a credit card machine with me everywhere."

"Oh... I paid everything with a credit card online," she said.

I knew that my agent said to pick up cash. His text message clearly stated that, so that told me that something was amiss. I told her that I needed to call my agent and make sure that there wasn't a mistake. Angela said that she would go upstairs and get everyone ready in the meantime.

Whenever I collect cash, I have to send my agent his cut of the money, so if I somehow lose that money or don't collect it, then I still owe money to my agent. Lucky for me, my agent answered his phone and I told him the situation. "She's bullshittin' ya," he said. "I told her specifically to pay you in cash. Don't strip until you get the money."

"Gotcha," I said. "Just checkin."

"I appreciate that. Sometimes these women will pull a fast one on ya."

Sure enough, Angela came back down with the cash in hand. She apologized for the misunderstanding and gave me the money. Now that I was paid, I went over the plans for my routine. I was going to go back outside, ring the doorbell, and Angela would answer and invite me inside. She would lead me to the girls upstairs and I would announce that someone was parked illegally. I finished donning on my police uniform and went back to the front door.

The routine went as planned. I went upstairs where over a dozen ladies waited, most of them over thirty years of age. The radio blasted music and I had to shout to be heard. As soon as I announced to the party about the illegally parked car, the bachelorette became fussy, demanding what the violation was. She stormed towards me glowering and said that she was a lawyer and wanted to go outside and document everything. If I were a real cop, then she would have been a real pain in the ass to deal with. Fortunately, I wasn't a real cop.

"Ma'am, we'll discuss everything," I assured her, placing my hands on her shoulders to guide her toward a chair. "But it's really windy outside, so just take a seat here and I'll get the paperwork."

She turned around and gave me a look mixed of puzzlement and shock.

I didn't give her any more time to contemplate because I was already moving to the rhythm of music and unbuttoning my shirt. She looked at her friends and the anger lines on her face relaxed into laughter as I stripped down to a shiny, silver thong.

Next I danced with Angela. After her were two other girls and the bachelorette again. The rest of the ladies didn't want to participate and I wasn't going to pressure them. I knew from experience that when a girl wants to be left alone, then it's best to leave her alone. After my short routine, I concluded the party by taking pictures with the girls.

After pictures, I started putting on my clothes. There were two more parties and very little time. The next party was scheduled for six o'clock and I was already running late. I thanked everyone on my way out. Angela walked me to my car and gave me an extra forty dollars for my tip.

Party #2

Sept. 3rd, Saturday. 1 male dancer. Cop uniform. Arrival time: 6:00 pm. (Address and phone numbers not included). Contact Tiffany. 10-15 girls. Bachelorette Party. Collect $250 cash.

I arrived thirty minutes late. However, I called earlier in the day and told Tiffany, the girl who hired me, that I was probably going to be late. She said that it was no problem and the girls were going to stay inside all night anyway because of the weather.

This party took place at a condo at a popular tourist resort a few miles from the beach. I have stripped at this resort for many parties in the past, so it was easy for me to find the location.

My routine started off like normal. I performed my police act, which tricked the bachelorette again. I was 2 for 2 tonight so far. As I was about to finish my routine though, the girls had a request: full nudity. At first, I told them that I usually don't do that, but they pleaded even more.

"Come on--pretty please!" one of the girls said. She pointed at the bachelorette. "This will be the last dick she gets to see because she gets married."

"Yeah, most of us are married and haven't seen another cock in years. You gotta show us!"

I think I'm the only guy I know who has ever had a room full of a dozen hot girls begging to see his cock. And let me tell you, it's hard to turn down a dozen girls eager to see you naked. The more I refused, the more insistent the girls became. Finally, peer pressure got the best of me. "Okay, but no pictures."

The girls agreed. They put away the cameras and took their seats on the L-shaped couch in the living room. The girls kept their word---no one had a camera.

As soon as I approached the couch, two pairs of hands grasped the strap of my thong and pulled downward. The rest of the crowd squealed in delight. My cock hung out there for everyone to see. I danced, moving from girl to girl, showing my goods like I was on tge catwalk of a runway.

"Let's give him a hand, girls," one girl said.

Everyone cheered and clapped like I had hit a home run at a ball game. I felt flattered and awkward at the same time. That was one of the strangest ovations I had ever received---not many people can get an ovation for showing their cock to people.

"So, are we the hottest party you've had?" one girl asked.

"That's hard to say because I have done a lot of parties with a lot of hot girls," I said, causing some girls to raise their eyebrows. "But I can say this: Y'all are easily up there with one of the hottest." Everyone smiled at this. That wasn't a lie either. These girls were all very beautiful.

Unfortunately, I forgot to keep track of the time. By the time I finished the party and returned to my car, it was already 8:00. My next party was scheduled for 8:30 and it was three hours away. I began to panic.

Party #3...Contined here: Tropical Storm Blackout: Part 2

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Labor Day Weekend

I did a whole load of parties this past Labor Day weekend. I will write about some of the things that happened at them soon. A lot of interesting things happened---several girls molested me pretty badly. I'll try to write it all down by the end of the week.

Keep checking back for the update.