Palooza

I stripped for a group from Ohio last night at a rental house in Gulf Shores, Alabama. They called their event a Palooza, meaning a large party, even though it was really a bachelorette party resembling every other bachelorette party. There were 23 women in attendance, most of them blonde and all of them shrieking loud enough to piss their neighbors off.

They requested a cowboy outfit, so I wore leather pants, my cowboy boots, a white button-down shirt, and a black cowboy hat.

The women hovered in the early 20’s age range, but many of their mothers were present. Only one of the mothers participated with me. The rest watched, cheered, and laughed as I laid their daughters spread eagle on the living room and humped them.

For some reason, everyone wanted me to focus my attention on Lauren more so than the bride. Lauren was a tall and cute brunette. I didn’t even notice her until the bride mentioned her and pointed. Lauren hid in the kitchen, and buried her face into her hands when the crowd pointed her out. She wanted to disappear, but her friends chanted her name until she relented. Peer pressure is a bitch sometimes.

As I dragged her out from the kitchen, I asked the crowd, “So why is it so special that I get Lauren? Is there something I need to know?”

“Lauren is really innocent,” one girl shouted.

“Yeah, she’s a virgin!”

“Teach her a thing or two,” another girl said.

Everyone laughed. Lauren turned as red as a fresh tomato. I made sure to give her an extra amount of intimate contact. The room erupted in glee as I teabagged her. Lauren took all of the embarrassing antics in stride, smiling and hugging me once it was over.

The crowd wanted more as their hour drew to an end, but I was done. Due to the presence of the mothers, there was only so much I could do in an hour’s time frame before my routine became repetitive. We took pictures together, and everyone thanked me with faces full of smiles.

On my way out, I ran into one of the mothers. She told me that two of her daughters were in there. One ran from me, but her other daughter bore the onslaught of my performance.

Stripping in front of a mother and daughter combination was nothing new to me, but I always wondered how the mothers felt as they watched their daughters engage in salacious acts with a complete stranger. I never thought to ask about it until now.  

“Just curious, how do you feel watching a male stripper do bad things to your daughters?” I asked the mother. “Does it feel weird at all?”

“Oh, pretty innocuous about it,” she replied. “It’s probably weird for my daughters because I’m watching. But I think it’s pretty funny.”

As she told me this, two girls strode up us wearing a pair of men’s white underwear that encompassed the both of them. One girl, facing forward, had the crotch end on, and the other girl, directly behind her wore the ass end of the underwear. The underwear appeared stretched to its seams and ready to rip apart any moment. They waddled around the living room lacking coordination like they were competing in a three-legged race.

I assumed that the other girls had something planned for later with this shared underwear phenomenon. Women come up with some pretty creative games.