Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Male vs. Female Stripping

From: Debi Sens
Subject: male stripper questions!


Hi, I am not sure if you are still accepting questions or not but I have a few.

Does being a male stripper make you think differently towards women? Like, did you become more mysoginistic? I read some female stripper blogs and a few of them admitted it sort of made them not like men as much?

Also if you can answer this do you think there are many differences of experiences between male and female strippers?



My Response:

I would say that male stripping has made me think a little differently toward women, but with a wiser mindset rather than a negative one. I don't think I have become more misogynistic (though some readers would argue otherwise). Most women at my parties treat me exceptionally well, pay me more than necessary, and overall spoil me. Of course, I see a few women who behave rather ill for being married or engaged, but I have also seen just as many carry a remarkable amount of devotion and respect.

Regarding female strippers disliking men as a result of their job, I have also read a few female stripper stories and some of them tend to cast men in a negative role, but that's because those strip clubs where they work tend to attract the seedier types of society. My job proves the contrary. The type of women who hire me tend to be middle to upper class without criminal history or a perverted agenda.  I tend to like most of the female clientele I deal with. I have a lot of fun at my parties and often look forward to working them.

As far as differences between male and female strippers, I think they can be quite similar and different at the same time. In my case, stripping only supplements my income. I have an actual full time job while I just strip on the side for extra cash. Many female strippers tend to focus on stripping as their full time job. Moreover, providing amusement and entertainment remain my top priorities at my show, while turning the crowd on comes as a secondary result. Female strippers sexually stimulate their male audience as a top priority, or least that is my perception. Beyond that, male and female strippers dance to music and strip. 

Overall, I don't feel as though I sacrifice dignity when stripping for a crowd of females, but gain a sense of empowerment instead. Whereas most men have to work hard to physically interact with women, I get to do so with ease while getting paid.


Monday, September 24, 2012

Party Log: September 22, 2012

Location:  Beach Condo on Florida's Panhandle
10 Girls
Bachelorette Party
Requested Costume: Police

The party was originally scheduled for Friday, but the girls shifted it to Saturday due to two of them unable to come down to Florida in time. Lucky for them, I was able to accommodate this change, otherwise they would have been without a stripper. Unfortunately, my performance fell in the range of sub-par. I just wasn't feeling the vibe with this party and perhaps that was due partly to my lack of motivation. I'm going through another phase where I feel burned out on stripping. Overall, I still had some fun since the girls treated me well. Here were the highlights of the party:

- The bachelorette asked me if I had seen the movie, Magic Mike, or read Fifty Shades of Gray. I told her that I had not for either. I have failed to mention this in previously, but many girls at my shows have been asking me these questions recently.

- The bachelorette requested that I make out with one of her friends named Lauren. Lauren was a tall, young blonde girl who reminded me of one of those stuck-up girls in high school due to her bossy attitude and spoiled nature. She had a beautiful face when she wasn't making demands or scowling. The bachelorette told me that Lauren hadn't been laid or had a boyfriend in a long time, and I could easily see why. Nevertheless, I complied with bachelorette's wish and made out with Lauren, who initially objected, but soon acquiesced and even extended the kiss.

- The bachelorette began to feel sick after awhile. The other girls forced alcoholic drinks on her all day, and the over-imbibing was finally catching up. She disappeared into the bathroom in the midst of my performance and that was the last of I had seen of her.

- On my way out, Lauren offered to help me carry my belongings. When she spoke to me, her voice was in a higher pitch than usual. I politely declined, but she walked me to the door and hugged me anyway.


Thursday, September 13, 2012

Lessons From The Elders

I went to the gym today to train my upper body, which was mostly chest and back. While doing the bench press, an older man approached me and asked if he could work out with me since all of the other flat benches were taken. The older man had muscles that appeared to stretch the limits of his t-shirt. He had gray hair, was a little taller than me, and had a friendly attitude.

We both benched 135 pounds for our warm-up. I eventually went up to 225 pounds for 8 repetitions. The old man matched me. I did one more set with 225 pounds and was done. The old man continued to add more weight, going up to 315 pounds. He lifted that with ease. He finished his last set at 385 pounds.

The fact that this old man lifted that much weight did not surprise me. It was his age that did. He was 70 years old.

The old man told me that he ate a healthy diet, which included a lot of vegetables. He avoided sweets, fast food, and did not smoke or drink alcohol. He worked out five times a week. The way he talked was full of clarity and focus. His posture was upright and full of vigor like he was still twenty years old and in the military.

Just being in this man's presence filled me with motivation for training and taking care of myself in the future. After doing bench presses with the old man, I had one of the most productive work outs in a long while. When I become old, I want to be like that man.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

More Hate Mail

Little did I know that when starting a blog about male stripping, I would receive a lot of advice from self-proclaimed mental health experts. I feel so appreciative that these people would take time to provide me with their psychoanalytical observations.

1.) From: Cindy (last name and e-mail omitted)

Subject: Your Blog


Dear Dion:

A friend of mine referred me to your blog and I read it thinking it would be a good read. It was quite the contrary. I was treated to narcissistic ramblings of a douchebag. Your writing is unintelligent and uninspiring. You treat having sex with women like its a conquest but you are nothing more than a male whore. At the rate you are going you will grow old and ugly and alone. Your blog is nothing more than your own personal fan fiction to praise yourself.

You need some serious help.

My Response: Hi Cindy. Thank you for taking your time to read through my blog and, better yet, give me your professional opinion. I was completely unaware that I needed help.

I'm still working on the growing old, ugly, and alone part, but I'll get there someday. In the meantime, I'm just going to keep enjoying myself.


2. From: Andrew (last name and e-mail omitted)

Subject: Nice Blog


Hey Dion, just curious. Have you ever been molested as a little kid? Is that why your such a prick? Must make you feel like a man to mess with another man's woman and write about it eh. Mommy must not have loved you enough as a kid.

My Response: Oh no... My horrible secret revealed!


3. From: Anonymous (From the comments section here)


...if your gonna sleep with a married/engaged/attached women then you should expect to either get your ass kicked or the boyfriend to say some shit. I know people are responsible for their own actions but at the same time, your just as, if not, more responsible since your able to stop it in the first place, but thats just my opinion on the matter.

My Response: So if a married/engaged/attached woman tries to sleep with me, how exactly do I bear more responsibility than her for her infidelity? I can understand the half and half thing even though I'm not the one in the relationship, but more!?


(The below e-mail has a different tone than the ones above, but I thought to include it here because it contains a trace of envy.)

4.) From: Christopher (last name and e-mail omitted)



Cool blog dude. Your job sounds awesome and I want to become a male stripper too. No offense but i saw your pics and I am WAY better built than you. im 6'3 and 230 lbs 8% body fat. My biceps are 17 inch and I have a six pack and my cock is almost 10 inches. Girls tell me I am good lookin all teh time. I think have the confidence, personality, and looks for the job. Do you have a agent you can recommend? i live near toronto.

My response: Let me get this straight, Christopher... You're telling me that how much better you are than me while at the same time asking for a favor? Yeah, you should definitely get into stripping with that mindset. I'm sure the ladies will love to hear you gloat about how awesome you are. Don't mind them when they roll their eyes at you in disgust; they're just jealous their husbands/boyfriends pale in comparison to you.

In fact, I don't need to recommend an agent to you. You have the confidence, personality and looks, so good agents should be hunting you down and knocking at your door to hire you. Let me know how the job situation goes.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Party Log: September 1, 2012

Panama City Beach

Bachelorette Party

9:00 P.M.

6 Girls

Driving through the country roads of northwest Florida resembles the countryside of Alabama and many parts of Georgia. Farm lands, forests, and dirt roads take up a good portion of scenery. Therefore, my GPS, being a few years old without any updates, doesn't show all of the roads in the countryside. That is how I found myself down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, quite a distance north of Panama City. Or should I say, that is how I found my vehicle stuck a foot deep in mud in the middle of the woods.

It was dark and I could not see beyond my headlights on a wet dirt road. The excessive rain from Hurricane Isaac left much of the Panhandle of Florida drenched. I was on my way to a bachelorette party in Panama City and was aiming for the fastest route there. I knew I should have turned around, but according to my GPS, I was only a mile away from a highway, so I continued my course... And my car wound up stuck in a foot of mud. My car has all-wheel-drive, so I tried setting it to that, but it wouldn't even budge. Pushing the car out was impossible. I was stranded in the middle of the forest on an unnamed dirt road with a party starting within an hour.

So I had to do something that I didn't want to do. Call for help.

I dialed 911 and told them the closet street name on my GPS. The dispatcher wanted me to go to the actual street to meet an officer, so I had to trek through the mud, soaking my tennis shoes and socks with brown muck, then cut through a patch of woods to get a road. After a few minutes, I was drenched in sweat. If I somehow managed my way out of this situation, then I would still arrive at the party looking like I came from a week-long hunting trip.

After stumbling through the underbrush, mud, and several puddles, I made it onto a nearby road and waited for an officer to come. Meanwhile, I called one of the girls at the party and told her my situation and that I was going to be late. She seemed unperturbed, and told me to call once I was on the road again. The wait for the officer only took five minutes even though my location was in the middle of nowhere. When the officer arrived, a familiar face stepped out of the patrol car, and he looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

"Dion! What's up, man!" he called out, smiling.

"Oh shit! Matt?! Is that you?"

Matt and I met in college and had a lot of classes together. We often worked out together after class. Matt towered over me by a few inches and he still wore his trademark mustache. He had a gregarious and easygoing personality, so I got along with him well enough although we went our separate ways after college. This coincidental meeting marking the first time I had seen him since then.

"So how'd you get stuck way out here?" he asked.

"My GPS sucks and I got stuck on a dirt road nearby," I said.

"That's not a dirt road," he laughed. "That's where they're laying the new pipeline."

"Well, shit..."

"So where were you headed to?" he asked.

"Same ole... I gotta show in Panama City," I said.

He grinned. "Still doing that? That's awesome, man."

"Yeah, but I'm going to be late at this rate..."

Matt frowned in thought for a moment, then pulled out his cellphone. "Hold on. Let me call a friend. He lives just down the road from here." Matt dialed the number and spoke with someone for a few minutes. Afterward, he closed his cellphone and said, "My friend is on his way. Is twenty dollars too much for you?"

I was ecstatic. "That's more than reasonable!" I said. While we were waiting, We traded stories on what we had been doing since college. I told him about my normal job and he told me about his. We talked a little about 'good ole days' in college, then about the present and my upcoming party. "Hey, think the girls would mind if I showed up with you like this?" Matt said, pointing to his uniform and grinning.

"Not at all. Your sergeant might though."

"So how much they paying you?" Matt asked.

"More than you're making tonight," I said.

Matt guffawed. "Ain't that the truth."

Matt's friend soon arrived in a tow-truck. Matt introduced his friend to me, but I did not remember his name. His friend attached a tow line to my vehicle, which had sunken even more into the mud, and used a machine to reel my vehicle out like a fish. It was a time consuming process, and Matt had to leave to take another more important call. He shook my hand before he left.

"Dion, it was great seeing you again, man. Take care of yourself."

"You too," I said. "Stay safe out there."

After Matt left, his friend finished pulling my vehicle from out of the muck. I only had to pay twenty dollars since I was a friend of Matt's. I thanked the tow truck driver and was on my way to the party once again, but this time with shoes and socks soaked and caked with mud.

Prior to arriving at the party, I stopped at a country gas station with a water hose, took off my shoes and rinsed the mud off of my feet. I had an extra pair of socks in my car along with my stripper boots for the party. My stripper boots were black, patent leather, knee-high boots, that had a zipper that zipped up along the calf. They were ideal for my shows but not as primary footwear. It looked like I was going to wear them a bit earlier tonight.

After cleaning myself up at the gas station, I was blazing down the road again and arrived only twenty minutes late. This particular party took place at a rental cottage near Panama City Beach. The rental cottage was in a residential community with a guard gate posted at the entrance. I had to tell the guard my name and the name and address of the person I was going to visit. The guard allowed me in without any objections or issues.

At the cottage, I pulled into the driveway. A girl named Erin came outside to pay me. As I spoke with her about what I would do, I changed into my police outfit. It was almost thirty minutes after nine o'clock at night, so no one was going to see me. Erin seemed a little surprised, especially when I stripped down to my thong in the driveway, but I told her, "You're going to see me almost naked in a few minutes anyway."

"That's true," she said with a giggle.

After paying me, Erin went back inside. I finished donning on my uniform and approached the front door under the facade that 'someone had called the police for a noise complaint.' Erin answered the door and invited me inside. There were six girls total, and I spotted the bachelorette immediately. She was a tanned brunette wearing a pink, one-piece dress that had a white ribbon draped across with the word, 'bachelorette,' emblazoned in shiny, silver letters.

My 'noise complaint' act went without a stutter. I announced that the neighbors in the other cottages were complaining that the girls being too loud outside...And the bachelorette wasn't buying it.

She laughed and beckoned me to arrest her. From there, I stripped and dry-humped each and every girl at that party. What made this party interesting was the fact that every girl either wore a one-piece dress or a short skirt. When I would place a girl on the couch or floor to emulate humping her in a missionary position, her dress would hike up to reveal her underwear. Most of these girls had g-strings on, so when I would grind against them, only the thin fabric of my thong and theirs separated us. The girls encouraged each other to participate in this activity; I did not have to say a word, but merely accepted whoever was pushed and jostled toward my direction.

During the commotion, one of the girls placed a pink, circular sticker on my ass that read, "TIGHT BUNS." Another girl had flavored lube that she pour and lathered onto my chest, legs, and ass. The girls also had glow-in-the-dark bracelets. The sole red-haired girl at the party attempted to reach down place the bracelet around my cock and balls like a cock ring. However, the bracelet unsnapped open every time she tried.

Overall, I had immense fun at this party. They invited me to stay, but I had work the next day and needed rest. The tip money they left me covered the twenty-dollar towing fee multiple times over. The night might have started out hopeless and shitty, but it ended with me driving home content and well-paid.