I stumbled upon your blog after searching for "true male stripper stories" or something of that sort. I've become infatuated with the phenomenon of male stripping as of late. I'm getting the impression that it's so much more sociologically complex than female stripping - or perhaps just far less "studied" in the cultural sense.
I'm a female, 34, single, single mom, school teacher. Never been married, never particularly fond of the idea. I'd only ever been to female strip clubs until last Friday.
My sister, knowing how fond I had inextricably fond I'd become of the the movie "Magic Mike" (I've always been more or a Scorsese girl myself...) asked me to accompany her and a friend to our local strip joint.
The thing that immediately struck me was how much more we as women were able to get away with in this establishment. I'd been to some seedy strip female strip joints with male friends but I'd never seen a male rub a woman through her panties while she was on stage. At this male strip club, things were much different. A male stripper, who I'll refer to as "Fly Guy" came up to me, and I stuck a dollar in his pants. He proceeded to grab my wrist, insert in into his fly and press it firmly against his semi. Well, that was a delightfully abrupt introduction to the rules.
I went back on Wednesday, but this time, I dressed up in my knee high boots and a mid-length skirt with my nice little cleavage on display. If I was going to play "sex", I may as well dress sexy. I was a bit out of place - there were only a handful of patrons. I went around tipping just about all of the guys, getting as many "samples" of action as I could. Hell of a good time.
|A self-shot of Selena in her outfit.|
I continued with my night, this fantasy of whoring around with a half-dozen men, walking from stage to stage - grabhing whatever I could carry :-)
I had this thought in the back of my mind - would that Fly Guy actually fuck?
On my way out, I was, for lack of a better word, accosted by another dancer, begging me to buy a dance. "You know my name, right?" he boasted. I was like, "No, I have to go home... I have to get up for work in the morning. You know, like this is your job? I have a job, and I have to get up at 6:30".
He somehow got me back into the place, in this dark corner, just talking total bullshit about how he was in love with his 2nd grade teacher, blah blah blah, just a bunch of DUMB. He insisted that I put his cell number in my phone and suggested I title it "Guillermo my stripper man". Then he proceeded to try humping me, said I was getting "a free sample" and flipped me over to get me to grind him.
I didn't want a dance! I finally, literally weaved my way out of his limbs and he whined a bit. I just shouted, "I'll be back another night!"
I wasn't pissed, but it was irritating. Obviously, a physically fine man, but...
I'm going to keep going to the club, it's too much of an adrenaline rush not too. I don't think I'd ever fuck any of these men, even if I were able to, because I think it would ruin the illusion.
I do want to keep going in to stuff dollars down "fly guys" pants and have him insinuate other things... but I don't ever feel I'd act upon them. And that is why it's so damn fun, I think - crisscrossing that line, knowing at any second you might just let yourself get into a little bit more than you can handle, but pulling out just in time.
So, that's my male strip club patron story. I'm going to see how things change as I become more familiar with the club, the men, and the scene in general.
What was the deal with that guy accosting me as I left? And do male strippers in the club ever get "some of that later", or is that part of the tease?
Thank you for your blog. It's nice to know that male strippers aren't all meathead dumb-dumbs :-) Male stripping seems like the most perfect occupation on earth, I'm strangely jealous of that.