Rally From Disaster

The following story is a chapter from my book, "Behind the G-String: Dion's Guide to Becoming a Male Stripper"

Rally From Disaster

Nothing was going according to plan.

The bachelorette party canceled two hours before my scheduled arrival time. Apparently, the bachelorette's fiancé learned that a male stripper was going to show up and didn't take too well to the news. The bachelorette's friends thought it was wise to cancel my show to avoid the consequential fireworks show.

They notified my agent, who in turn told me. I was a little disappointed at the prospect of losing out on several hundred potential dollars, but there was nothing I could do. To salvage the scattered pieces of my planned Saturday, I decided to make the best of what was left and lift weights. 

Shortly into my workout, the girls called me again to reschedule. The bachelorette had discovered that her surprise was a male stripper and insisted on having one despite her fiancé’s wishes. I scurried about to get ready.

Over the phone, Hana, the girl who hired me, sounded hell bent on a night of decadence and perversions. She requested a police costume with handcuffs. She also said that the girls never seen a male stripper before so they didn't know what to expect. I suggested that the girls and I could take body shots off of each other, followed by a game of eating sliced strawberries off random body parts. Hana loved the idea, saying that the party was going to be “wild.”

"By the way, you're in for a treat," Hana said. "We're all really cute." 

Everything sounded great so far. 

I arrived at Hana's location almost on time, which was a miracle considering they’d changed their minds last minute. The girls had rented a three-story beach condo in Destin, Florida with a great view of the sugar-white sand and the ocean.

Hana met me outside and paid me two-hundred and fifty dollars. I gave her a small boombox and followed her into the house. As I changed into my police costume, I heard the music blare from my boombox upstairs and the cheers of half a dozen drunken girls. They seemed ready.

I went upstairs and started my routine.

The bachelorette wore a white veil and sat apart from the other girls in an armchair. I told her that she was in big trouble and proceeded to handcuff her, which was met with a resounding cheer from her friends. I sat her back down in the chair and began to strip. My police shirt came off first, then my pants.

Then the atmosphere of the room turned glum.

It started when the bachelorette shirked away, demanding that I lavish my attention towards another girl. I tried to finish my strip show in front of the bachelorette, but she shook her head and looked away, frantically jerking her head towards a girl sitting on a nearby couch. "Get her!"

Seeing no sense in pushing my luck against an unwilling participant, I sauntered over to the girl on the couch, who responded by getting up and bolting out of the room.

The bachelorette pointed to another girl in the kitchen, so I went after her. The girl in the kitchen began backing away, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. "Get the bride," she said, backing into the hallway. "It's her party."

"Yeah, get the bride," another girl said.

However, the bride shook her head.

"Come on, what are you doing?" Hana cried. "Show us some moves. Do something fun! This sucks so far."

The thread unraveled, causing the whole tapestry of the party to fall apart. No girl wanted to get near me, and without an interactive audience, there was no way for me to continue my performance.

To make matters worse, Hana began to heckle me.

"I paid two-hundred and fifty dollars for you," she said. "And I'm not feelin' it. I'm definitely not gettin' my money's worth."

So much for my initial presumption of this crowd. It was far from “wild.” No one wanted to do body shots, and my idea of extracting strawberries was out of the question. I tried to dance with the other girls with one last feeble attempt stop the inevitable destruction, but they all ran away. Then I danced alone with the hopes that the girls would be content with just watching. They weren’t.

"Is this your first time doing this?" one girl asked in a derisive tone.

 Hana threw a banana at me, hitting me in the chest.

"Do something with that," she said.

I stopped what I was doing and shot a stern look at her. "Don't throw shit at me," I said.

"Then, do something!" she said. "Show us some moves! Pick up a dollar with your butt cheeks. I paid a lot of money for you and so far, I'm not impressed."

By now, the thread of this party unraveled almost to the point of where no amount of sewing could stitch it back together again. Early on in my career, I would have ended the party right then and there since I had already collected the money. That was then though.

I had a new tactic. Instead of scrambling to mend the fabric myself, I decided to hand the thread and the needle over to Hana as though she bore the responsibility of fixing everything. 

"Listen," I said, walking up to her. "I don't know what idea you have of male stripping, but I'm not here to do backflips or tricks with bananas. The amount of fun y'all are gonna have depends on participation. You gotta meet me halfway, and right now, I'm in the middle and y'all aren't doing anything to meet me."

I may have sounded harsh because Hana stared at me in shock. I did not care at this point though. The awkwardness was too suffocating to spend another minute wallowing in ridicule and shame. To my surprise though, Hana asked in earnest, "So do women at your other parties participate more?"

"Yeah," I said. "They play along and everyone has fun. I’ve done hundreds of these parties, so I’m tellin’ ya from experience. If everyone is running and not participating, then we're both gonna be bored. I'm not trying to be rude, but I really want y'all to have a good time."

A brunette girl stepped forward. "Here, I'll join in," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

Her sudden compliance was unexpected, but this was something I could work with. "We can do this," I said, placing my hands underneath her arms and lifting her up.

"What's going on?!" she said, eyes bulging.

"Act like you're riding a stallion," I smiled. "Relax---I'm not gonna bite."

It took her awhile to comprehend what was going on, but the brunette finally wrapped her arms around my neck and legs around my hips. After she jostled awhile from my bucking motion, she let go of her arms, leaving me to shoulder most of her weight. She leaned back, smiling and relaxing. The other girls watched in silence at first, then began to cheer. I could see Hana talking to her friends in the background as I humped the brunette from my standing position. 

Once I set her down, another volunteer came forward with a wad of dollar bills in her bra. I placed her onto the couch, straddled her, and buried my face into her cleavage to get the money out. Someone turned off the lights at this point, and the girls were chanting their approval. The girl underneath me seemed stiff and nervous at first, but she wrapped her arms around me while I licked the area around her breasts. Once I was done with her, another girl came forward.

"Unzip the back of my dress," said the newcomer.

I did so. It was a black and white one-piece dress. The zipper came halfway down the dress, and once unzipped, the girl was able to pull the straps off her shoulders. It fell to the floor revealing a slender form clad in only bra and a thong. Her bra bulged with money. I licked all around her breasts, much to the delight of her friends.

Soon, everyone was chanting my name: "Di-on! Di-on! Di-on!" 

The bachelorette went next. I took my physical exchange with her to a lesser extent than the others, but she decided to venture some mischief of her own by lifting up her dress to allow me to take the money sticking out of her underwear. 

Hana came forward with her dress lifted as well, exposing her white-laced panties with dollar bills protruding from the sides. I deposited her onto the couch and rubbed myself against her, simulating sex in the missionary position. The girls were screaming at this point. All trace of tension in the air was gone, replaced by a euphoria. I felt like I could do almost anything at this point.

"It's feeling wet down there," I joked to Hana, "and I don't see you sweating."

Shrieks of laughter filled the room. Hana yelped in a mixture of mirth and embarrassment.

After Hana, another girl with money in her panties came forward. I licked her ass cheek, her inner thighs, before taking the money.

Next, I took body shots of Crown Royal whiskey off of most of the girls' midsections. They were all beautiful and in good shape, and I was having as much fun as the girls were. After a few shots, we brought out the sliced strawberries, which were placed into the participant's mouth to where I would extract it with my mouth after taking a body shot from her abs. The girls said that this game was their favorite.

While I was about to take a body shot, one girl approached me from behind, lifted up her dress and pulled the dress down over my face, pressing her pussy against me.

The debauchery continued and during the midst of it all, Hana asked how much the party had improved.

"I'd give y'all an 'A+' right about now," I said.

"Wanna see my boobs?" she asked.

Before I could answer, she lowered the front of her dress, revealing her pleasant C cups.

"You like 'em?" she asked. 

"They're very nice."

“Suck on them,” she demanded.

I happily obliged, taking in a mouthful of her right breast. The other women roared in approval. Hana began to breathe deep and slow. I showed an equal amount of attention to her other breast as well.

“I bet you love this,” Hana said.

“Just a little,” I replied.

“Only a little?” Hana asked.

“A little too much.”

Everyone laughed. Someone commented about how my job was the ultimate gig for a guy.

"You'll like Mindy's boobs then," Hana said. "She just got fake ones. Mindy, show him your boobs."

Mindy was a blonde girl in a gray dress. Her breasts very large, round, and she held them in both of her hands for the whole room to see. Most of the other girls mimicked Mindy and Hana, lowering their tops and showing me their breasts.

During the midst of the impromptu exhibition, one of the girls in the background announced that their taxi would arrive soon. They planned to hit the clubs. It was time for me to end the party and collect my stuff.

"Give Dion a round of applause, everyone!" Hana announced.

Everyone in the room clapped their hands and cheered and I extended an arm and gave a flourishing bow.

Hana came up to me and said, "We had a great time. Sorry we sucked at first, but we kicked ass in the end, didn't we?"

"You did! I'm glad y'all had a good time, and I had a great time as well. That's what it's all about."

Then, Mindy came up to me and wrapped her arms around me and leaned on me with the lack of grace equal to her level of drunkenness. "Dion, you're a very handsome guy with a great body and a good personality. If I weren't engaged to such a wonderful man, I'd love to be with someone like you."

Some girls looked at each other in alarm and confusion. A few smirked. I guessed that Mindy was normally more reserved and conservative. Now she was drunk and horny.

I approached and thanked each girl individually. They told me nice things, and some apologized for "being stiff at first."

Before leaving, I asked if I could go out on the balcony to look at the beach scenery. I made a habit of enjoying the ocean views of the beach condos and hotels whenever I visited Destin, Florida or Gulf Shores, Alabama.

"Sure, go ahead," one girl said.

I went outside. The sound of the waves and the wind greeted me. The water reflected the moonlight. Mindy was out there, lounging in a chair with a glass of wine. She invited me to sit with her. I pulled up a chair.

"How did you get into this profession?" she asked.

I told her how I started in college and branched out from there. I told her about the various jobs I had and the places I lived. I then asked Mindy about her life. According to her, she was twenty-four years old, came from a wealthy family, was a multimillionaire, and a "right-wing, God-fearing Christian." She said that she was thankful that she was blessed with a good life and beauty.

I couldn't argue with her. She was beautiful and wealthy. A convenient combination. "If you weren't taken, I'd ask you out right now," I told her.

Mindy turned towards me and placed her hand on my arm and left it there. "Well now, I'm sure we'd make a hot couple. I don't know if blondes are your type."

One of the girls flipped on the outdoor balcony lights, interrupting us. Mindy did not seem eager to go, but I figured by the restless activity inside that the girls were ready to go out.

"Don't feel like you have to rush," Mindy said. "You can stay longer. Don't worry about them."

I could have, but it was time to leave. I had a lot of things to do the next day.

On the way out, Hana gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "So were we awesome?"

"Absolutely!" I told her. "And very hot."

She, along with several other girls, smiled upon hearing that. They insisted on booking me again in the future, promising to be even “crazier” next time. We all said our good-byes.

Once I got into my car, I breathed a sigh of relief. That whole incident could have gone the opposite direction and made it one of the worst parties of my career. It amazed me how a little explanation changed the whole dynamic of everyone’s attitude. I was glad I didn’t give up on them.  

Cowboys Only

February 07, 2015
Biloxi, Mississippi
Hard Rock Casino


Originally, my agent booked a bachelorette party for me in Biloxi on Friday, February 6, but I had too many other work-related and home-related errands to attend, so I had to turn it down.

"No problem," he said. "I'll get somebody else."

Saturday came. My agent sent me a text message about Biloxi again, asking if I could do it.

"Sure," I replied. "Same group as yesterday?"

"Yep," he said. "Be sure to wear a cowboy costume or they'll turn you away."

No problem, I thought. Apparently, the notion of "being turned away" had a back story. Towards the end of my performance, one of the girls told me that they turned away another male stripper on the previous night.

This information intrigued me, so I asked for details.

"Well, he was kind of a douche," she said. "And he didn't have a cowboy costume. He didn't think it was a big deal either. So we turned him away. Like how hard is it to get a cowboy costume?"

My first costume was the cowboy outfit. It's the easiest to assemble, so that other male stripper had no excuse. He basically threw this show away that I practically gave him when I turned it down the first time, and I just happened to come along and pick up where he left off.

Overall, the show played out great despite my energy levels being low from a difficult week of work at my full-time job. The girls tipped me generously and treated me very well.

Moral of the story: Always wear the requested costume!

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.  

Fickle Customers

Saturday - July 13, 2014

Last night my agent booked me for two parties. The first one at 7 P.M. and the second one at 9 P.M.

There was one problem though. The drive time between the two parties was two hours.

My entire performance tends to last about an hour. It takes me that long to cycle through a variety of activities and girls. The customers expect an hour due to the large amount of money they hand out, so anything less than that causes dissatisfaction.

Tardiness also causes dissatisfaction. There was no way I would make the second party by 9 P.M., even if were to speed down the interstate.

I called the second party to ask if I could bump the time to 10 P.M. The girl who answered said that the time had already been delayed to 9 P.M. She originally requested that I show up at 8. "We plan on hitting up the clubs once you leave and we don't wanna go out too late," she said.

Because the first party booked me a week in advance, I had to honor their 7 o'clock reservation. As a result, I had to cancel my second show.

I called my agent and told him.

"No problem," he said. "I'll just get another guy to do it."

The rest of my evening continued as planned.

The first party, a surprise 40th birthday party, was amazing. It was located in an upscale neighborhood that had a pristine golf course. The ladies showered me with money like they had too much of it. They eagerly participated in all my activities, and everyone seemed to have a great time, myself included. I left with over a hundred dollars in tips.

Once I got home, I made dinner and sat down to relax. I was tired, hungry, and wanted to relax in my living room for the rest of the evening.

Then at 9:48 P.M. the phone rang.

It was the customers from the second party, the one I had to cancel.

"Hey, we're trying to call your company and no one is answering," she said. "I figured that you may know someone we can talk to."

"What's wrong?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Well, your company told us that they got an Italian guy to show up. So we told the security at the front gate of our condo that an Italian guy would show up ... Well, a guy showed up, but he looks nothing like the picture. First of all, he's black. He definitely does not match the picture of the guy we picked. And he has some other guy with him, which is just weird. We gave security the description and name of an Italian guy. They won't let this guy and his friend in, and we don't really want them to come into our place."

"I'd like to help you," I offered. "But I probably won't be able to get a hold of my agent. He's pretty busy with the phones on Saturdays."

"Can you come strip for us?" she asked.

"I don't feel comfortable taking another guy's job from him," I said. "And it'd take me two hours to get ready and get out there."

"I see," she said. "Wait, I think your company is calling. Let me take this. I'll text you afterwards. Bye."

As soon as I got off the phone, my agent sent me this text message: "Call the Orange Beach party. They may take you."

I replied: "Yes. They wanted me to it. I think they turned the other guy away."

My phone rang again. This time it was my agent.

"These fuckin' racist bitches are really pissin' me off," he said in a tone mixed with anger and exasperation. "They don't want the guy who showed up because they think he's black. He's fuckin' LATINO! I told them that, but they still think he's black. They're demanding a white guy, even though this guy drove an hour and a half to their location. Anyway, if you want to still do this party, it's yours."

"The earliest I can get out there is midnight," I said. "And they've already been flaky twice tonight. The last thing I want to do is drive all the way out there just for them to give me attitude or turn me away."

"I hear ya," he said. "I mean, you offered to do they show at 10 P.M. earlier and they said it was too late. Now it's fuckin' 10 o'clock and these dumb bitches want you to drive out there. If they took the time you originally said, then we wouldn't even have this problem right now. I swear, sometimes I just want to reach my hand through the phone and choke the shit out of some of these bitches."

"Just curious. Do male customers who book female strippers ever give you these problems"

"Not very often. It's almost always the women. They complain about every fuckin' thing imaginable. Guys are easy. Just send them a hot girl with ass and titties and they're happy. Girls are a constant pain in my fuckin' asshole. They want some fantasy guy that they been dreaming about for the last 20 years to suddenly appear and strip for them, and if you don't send them someone that perfectly fits that bill, they raise hell. They bitch when the guy is 3 minutes late. They bitch about everything. Like I said, I'd like to just smack 'em a bunch of times."

In the end, I decided against doing the party. My agent was more than understanding.

After I got off the phone, the girl from the second party sent me a text message asking me to come out to perform. She said I could show up around midnight.

I did not reply.

Highlights From September, 2013 - Part 3

September 28, 2013

 

This particular weekend was so booked that I had to turn down work. The Husband who hired me for his wife earlier this summer wanted me to “court” his wife once again, offering a large sum of money. I turned down his offer, suggesting he try again later. Then, I had two parties I had to turn down on Friday due to a family event.

 

I probably turned down at least $1,000 worth of gigs.

 

However, I did take on two bachelorette parties for Saturday night.

 

The first was at 8 p.m., and the second was scheduled for 9 p.m. The driving distance between the two was an hour and a half, so I called the second party and told them I would be late.

 

I arrived on time for the first group. They were from Texas. The customer who hired me was the Maid of Honor, a very tall, dark-haired girl with blue eyes. She stood at least a head over me with her high heels on.

 

The bride did not know I was coming, so I was to reprise my role of property management once again. The ploy was for me to fix a broken smoke detector.

When I entered, all of the girls sat at the dining table instead of the living room, so I felt rather awkward because they all stared at me in silence as I walked in front of the smoke detector located in the living room.

 

I tried to make small talk, but the words fumbled around in my mouth. I probably sounded lame. The fact that the other girls did little to play into the ruse made the situation more strained.

 

They did point to the bride at the end of the table. She was very tanned and dark-haired and wore a white miniskirt and a white top. I decided to drop my act, which was unsalvageable at this point, and approach her to start stripping.

 

“I knew it,” the bride said. “You were too awkward to be part of the hotel staff. Plus, the guy who came earlier today was old!”

 

Because it was difficult to strip for a girl at the dinner table, I took the bride towards the living room and guided her towards the couch where I did my striptease for her.  The other girls began stuffing dollar bills in her cleavage and in the crevice between her legs.

 

The bride’s white miniskirt did little to hide her white, mesh panties, which also did little to hide her shaven pussy underneath. I explored such regions as I took the dollar bills with my mouth, licking and kissing her in the process.

 

She was very frisky with me as I stripped for her. “If you only knew how much of a freak I am in bed,” she said, as I rubbed the front of my thong against her panties.

 

There was a short and very shy girl who could not stop laughing while I interacted with her. Her brown hair only came down to her jaw line, and she wore cowboy boots. I teabagged her, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.

 

“Her laughing feels like a vibrator,” I said to her friends. “It’s really turning me on.”

 

The shy girl’s giggling became even worse as her friends laughed at her expense.

 

One thing that this group liked to do was gather a large wad of dollar bills and throw over me while saying, “Make it rain!”

 

They did this several times and even posed for pictures around the scattered bills on the floor.

 

Although a few girls did not participate, the majority of them did with eager and groping hands. When I finished, they all applauded and cheered for me as I gave a courtesy bow.

 

Before I left, they asked me a lot of questions about my job. I stayed and answered them until I looked at the time. It was 9:30 p.m. 

 

I was supposed to be at the next party thirty minutes ago.

 

 

 

I arrived at the second party at 11 p.m.

 

The customer did not seem too upset. On the way, I called her several times to inform her of my status, and she said that she would occupy the bride’s attention until then. They had a lingerie party, presents, and dinner beforehand. Lucky for me, they did not make plans to go out.

 

For this party, I played the cop responding to a “noise complaint.”

 

The party in question took place in a high rise condominium on the beach. The girls rented a room on the tenth floor.

 

When the girls invited me inside, I announced to everyone in a stern tone that I was here on a noise complaint from their neighbors.

 

The crowd was a mix of ladies ranging from late 20s all the way to late 50s. The older ones were mothers or relatives of the bride.

 

“Sorry, we’re celebrating her bachelorette party,” one girl said, pointing to the bride.

 

The bride was a beautiful blonde girl with a slender, yet curvy figure. She wore a bra made of candy. A dollar stuck out of the bra. She stood up and approached me appearing nervous.

 

“I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t know we were being that loud.”

 

“Well, it doesn’t look like y’all are doing anything bad here, but I’m just lettin’ y’all know that if I have to come back out here again tonight, y’all are gonna get a noise citation.”

 

“We’ll be good,” the bride promised. “I’m so sorry that you had to come out here.”

 

“It’s all right,” I assured her. “So what’s goin’ on here?”

 

“We’re having my bachelorette party,” she said.

 

“Where’d y’all come in from?” I asked.

 

“Some of us from Alabama or Mississippi,” one lady answered.

 

“Well, I’ll tell ya what,” I said to the bride. “I normally wouldn’t do this, but how ‘bout I put you in handcuffs so your friends can take some pictures for a souvenir of your bachelorette party?”

 

“That’s a great idea!” one lady exclaimed.

 

“Okay,” the bride agreed.

 

I handcuffed her and all of her friends and family members took pictures.  I informed the ladies near the radio to turn the music up with a subtle nod towards the radio.

 

“Have a seat,” I said to the bride, helping her into a chair.

 

As soon as the music volume increased, I straddled the bride much to her utter surprise.

 

"Oh my!" she said. "I thought you were a cop the whole time!"

 

I motioned for her friends to stick dollar bills into her clothes. As I took them out with my mouth, she expressed pleasure by smiling or commenting on how “hot” I was. After interacting with her for awhile, I moved onto the other women. First, I repeated the same act with her friends, then with her mother.

 

While I had the bride’s mother on the couch, she wrapped her legs around me and looked to the bride and said, “Watch and learn from mama!”

 

Sometimes the ladies at these parties shock me beyond belief. I had to see it and hear it to believe it.

 

The mother was just as enthusiastic as the daughter. She even took a body shot off of me.

 

“You just made her day,” one of the older ladies said. “She hasn’t had that much action in awhile.”

“I haven’t had this much action in like ten years!” the mother said.

 

Everyone laughed.

 

A few ladies did not participate, but I returned the focus back to the bride. I took body shots off of her mid-section, which was very pleasant to look at since it was tanned with a belly-button piercing.

 

Then, one of the bride’s friends suggested I take a shot from between the bride’s breasts. So the bride took off her shirt, leaving only her bra on. She also unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, exposing her white panties with black lace along the edges.

 

Someone brought some whipped crème forward and sprayed it on the bride’s midsection.

 

“Take off your bra,” someone said.

 

So she did, exposing two perfectly small and round breasts. They were perky, pointing towards me at attention. I spread the whipped crème on both of her nipples and began to lick them off. Her nipples hardened. I began to get aroused.

 

Another round of whipped crème.

 

“I think he’s enjoying that more than you are,” one lady commented to the bride.

 

“I don’t know about that,” the bride said.

 

I had a gut feeling that some of the ladies disapproved. When I looked up, I noticed a few had retired to their rooms.  Oh well, not my problem.

 

The bride and her mother invited me to the kitchen to offer some food and cake.

 

While I was eating, several ladies, including the bride and her mother, hovered around me to ask questions.

 

“Do you get fully nude?”

 

“Sometimes,” I replied.

 

“I was sort of expecting you to pull it out for me,” the bride said. “But what I saw was very nice.”

 

An idea struck me. I decided to take a survey.

“So just out of curiosity, how many of you would have preferred if I got nude and hard.”

 

All of the women in the kitchen agreed that they wanted to see everything. The bride said that she would have loved to see it. I was already clothed by now and ready to leave though.

 

“Well, maybe next time!” I said.

 

“Yeah,” the bride said. “Can we just hire you even if it’s not for a bachelorette party?”

 

“Of course!” I said.

 

When I left, she gave me a kiss while we hugged. “Thank you,” she said in my ear, as she hugged me close. “I had a wonderful time.”

 

Besides being two hours late, I thought the performance was a success.

 

However, the next day, my agent sent me the following text message:

 

“Everything go ok with the 2^nd show?  Customer left me a message this morning. Just asked for someone to call. Did not say anything else.”

 

I called him to find out more. However, that was all the information he had.

 

“She just called and asked to speak to a manager,” he said.  “She didn’t say anything bad or good. She could either be complaining or giving praise. So what happened?”

 

I explained how I was two hours late, but mentioned how much fun the bride had. I even went into details about how I was licking whipped crème off of her tits.

“Nice!” my agent said.

 

“So the party went well. The only thing I can think of is maybe my tardiness, or perhaps some girls got pissed about me sucking on the bride's tits, or maybe that I stayed to eat afterwards. But the bride offered... I can't really think of any other reasons.”

“Who knows?” he said. “She could have been calling to praise you. I’m not gonna to call her back, but if she calls back again, I just wanted to hear your side of what happened so I have a heads up.”

 

“Well, either way, I’ll send your cut of the money tomorrow.”

 

“Great! I’ll call you with more work later,” he said and hung up.

 

All in all, I earned over $500 for that Saturday. I could only imagine the amount of money had I worked the day before.

Miramar Beach Condo Revisited

Back in 2010 (or maybe it was 2011), I stripped for a bachelorette party at a beach condo in Miramar Beach, Florida. It was a 4-story house with a Jacuzzi and a heated and lighted swimming pool that overlooked the white sandy beach and the Gulf of Mexico. It was a beautiful place, and I wouldn't mind living there, except during hurricane season. I really wanted to swim in that pool last time and admired the ocean view.

That party back then knew a girl who owned the condo. They were a rowdy bunch of girls that were really fun, but a little too much on the demanding side. Nevertheless, I had a great time. I tried to sift through my archives to see if I wrote about that particular party, but I don't think I did.

Last night, which was October 11, 2013, I had a bachelorette party for this very same beach condo.

As soon as I pulled up to the house, I recognized the place immediately. I wondered if these girls were the same group as before. It wouldn't be the first time.

When two girls came outside to pay me, they did not recognize me.

When I went inside to perform, no one recognized me. Everyone was a strange to me as well. I began to doubt if this was the actual place.

I looked out onto the back patio and saw the same lighted pool and heated Jacuzzi. There was no mistake. This was the place.

Throughout the mayhem, I asked about the condo. The girls told me that a "friend owned the place" and was letting them use it. Same story. I wondered how rich and generous this "friend" was.

Anyway, it was a fun, but reserved party. The girls did not want too much interaction, but they had a blast watching me dance with the bachelorette. Enough girls participated to remove the burdening sense of awkwardness.

The crowd peer pressured a few single girls into having a turn with me. The single girls did not want to participate, especially one petite blonde. She wanted me off of her, but her friends held her down and demanded that I give her a "good grinding."

She acted like she hated every minute of it, but throughout the party, she hovered around me, stuffing dollars into my thong, grabbing my ass, and caressing my muscles. When I spoke with her, I held her hand, and she loved it. Perhaps she was turned on from earlier. I wanted to give her more attention, but everyone else continued to redirect me back to the bachelorette.

One girl came up to tell me how hot I was. She told me that I was hot  and sexy at least two dozen times.

"The only reason I'm not all over you right now is because I'm married, but damn, you're so hot and amazing!" she said.

I told her that her compliments were beginning to embarrass me.

She continued, "Every girl here thinks you're hot too. Most of them aren't participating because they're shy or married, but they're eyeing you!"

I didn't know if she was just trying to flatter me, but the tip money echoed her sentiments. Several twenty-dollar bills accompanied the ones. I would leave this party well paid.

When I got dressed to leave, I went out on the back patio to bid farewell to everyone. The bachelorette and a few girls were swimming around the pool. A few of them were topless, but the bachelorette had all of her clothes on.

The bachelorette climbed out to give me a hug. She was completely soaked. Oh well. I gave her a hug. I was wearing a button down shirt, my pleather pants, and my knee high boots.

"Come join us in the water," she said with a slur and a stumble.

"No, that's all right," I said.

She attempted to grab me and pull me into the water, but her drunkenness caused to sway in the direction of the of metal rail and the stairs leading out of the pool. Had she continued her course, she probably would have injured herself.

I leaped into action, embraced her, and twisted away from the rail and the stairs. We landed in the shallow end of the pool, but struck nothing. My clothes were soaked. Luckily I left my phone in the car.

Well, I got to swim in the pool finally. It was heated and felt great. I enjoyed the scenery of the ocean view, the white sandy beach, and the other topless girls in the pool with me.

One concerned girl asked if I had my phone on me. I assured her that I didn't. She got me a towel to dry off with and told me that I could it.

As I left, the girls vowed to hire me again for their next party.

"We come here all the time to party, and we want you to strip for us again... Maybe next time we'll get crazier!"

Money earned: $452 (maybe a little more, considering the money that fell under the couches and table).

Another Website Booking

When I first started this blog, I never imagined in a lifetime that I would make money from it.

Last weekend a local girl contacted me via e-mail, saying how much she loved the blog and that she wanted to book me for an upcoming bachelorette party. She asked me about my rates.

I told her $200 for me to show up, and gave her a brief summary on my stripping routine and what I could do. She countered back saying that her friend had another male stripper willing to do $150. Since this girl lived 20 minutes away from my house, I felt a little uneasy stripping for her and told her so in a nice way. I suggested that she hire the other male stripper, especially since he was cheaper.

"Price is not the issue," I said. "I just avoid stripping in my hometown. What if I know you or your friends?"

"You probably don't, but I'll send a picture anyway."

She e-mailed me two pictures (and did not want me to share them). She was right. I did not recognize anyone. Most of them were hot though.

Moreover, she offered me $200 and told me that even if she and her friends recognized me, they would keep it a secret. "We all have careers and reputation to worry about too," she said.

"Why didn't you settle with the other guy?" I asked her.

"Well, you sounded really nice and professional, like you care about customer satisfaction and you know what you're doing. The other guy didn't."

So I am booked for her party tomorrow night.

Selling My Underwear

September 6, 2013

I stripped for a nice bacheloette party at a seaside cottage in Miramar Beach, Florida. This bunch was from Memphis, Tennessee. The lady who hired me did not tell her anyone about me, so the event was a complete surprise.

The plan was for me to act like I was part of the property management stopping by to fix some broken window blinds in the cottage. It was quite an absurd idea in my opinion, but the customer came up with it. I dressed in a polo shirt and dress pants. Beneath them, I wore a brand new black thong from California Muscle, a skin-tight vest with a zipper down the front, and my knee-high boots.

I met the paying customer outside the cottage. It was two-story with a well-kept lawn, white picket fence, and even an outside shower to rinse the sand off from the beach. I could hear the ladies on the second floor screaming and making a lot of noise. The customer told me that she would leave the downstairs door open for me to enter.

"Just go upstairs and do your thang," she said.

Since no one else knew I was coming, I felt very hesitant about barging in a place full of women. They would probably think I was a rapist or burglar. I voiced my doubts aloud, but the customer insisted on this plan. She went upstairs and I waited a few minutes outside.

Despite the customer's instructions, I tried knocking.

No one answered.

After a minute, I entered and made my way upstairs. As soon as I rounded the corner and into the kitchen and living room area where everyone was situated, all the girls stopped what they were doing and stared. Several jumped in surprise. A few backed up towards the patio door on the opposite side of the room.

"Property management!" I said quickly. "I'm here to fix the blinds over there."

Several girls commented about me barging in, but the girl who hired me quickly intervened and said that I was late. She offered to show me where the blinds were broken. The door leading to the second story patio actually had a few blinds that were bent, and as I pretended to inspect them.

"Oh my God," one lady stated. "I thought you were some stalker coming in to kill us."

"Sorry, but no one answered when I tried to knock and bang at the door," I said.

After relaxing from the horror of a strange man appearing in the house, some of the women began making requests.

"Hey, it's her bachelorette party!"

"Is your name Jacob?"

"No," I said. "Why?"

"We're doing a scavenger hunt and we have to find a guy named Jacob to get points."

 I took this time to study the crowd. The ladies appeared to be in their late 20s or early 30s. All of them wore similar t-shirts, but of different colors: pink, blue, orange, green, yellow. Each colored t-shirts signified a team, and there were three girls per team. They showed me a list of things to do for their scavenger hunt, and finding a guy named "Jacob" was one of the items to check off.

The winning team was supposed to get a good prize.

"Can you pick her up and carry her while we take pictures?"

"Damn! He's hot!"

"Do a dance for her!"

"Yeah! Give her a strip tease!"

The women had no idea that I was the stripper, but they wanted me to take my clothes off. All of them thought I was there on behalf of the property management. I acted like I was uncomfortable with their comments and requests, even shifted from side to side nervously.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that stuff," I said. "I'm here to work. I don't want to get fired..."

"Come on! It's her bachelorette party."

"Yeah, we won't tell on you!"

Several ladies shoved the bride, a short and tanned brunette, towards me.

"Pick her up... Please?"

"Yeah, carry her across the threshold," one girl said, indicating to the patio door, which was now open.

I sighed and said, "Okay, but I can get in trouble doing this."

"We won't tell anyone!"

I picked up the bride and stood at the "threshold" of the patio door and posed for a few pictures. I wondered how a normal guy would react to all of the strange demands this crowd was making.

"Now set her down and give her a lap dance!"

"I-I don't know about this..." I began.

"Just do it!"

I lowered the bride on a nearby chair. Someone turned the music up and most of the room began to chair. I began to dance, making a show of appearing awkward and unsure. The bride sat attentively and smiled

Several girls expressed joy that they had convinced the "property management guy" to dance.

"Take it off!" a girl shouted.

My nervous facade faded, replaced by a grin. I lifted my polo shirt, revealing my shiny, pleather vest beneath. The bride's mouth dropped in surprise at first, and she gave a shriek of delight. The other women saw my vest and gave a cheer.

"He's a stripper!" one lady screamed. 

The bride placed her hands on my chest and groped my torso up and down. Next, she grabbed my zipper and yanked it downwards, opening my vest and exposing my chest and abs, which she touched with zeal.

I slowly stripped out of my pants and vest, leaving only my thong and boots on. While I was dancing with the bride, one lady came up from behind and grab my ass.

"I have a confession to make," I said to the crowd, motioning for silence. "I'm not really property management."

Everyone laughed.

A heavy-set woman took an exception to my ass, and continually fondled it. "I have a thing for asses, and you definitely have a nice one!"

Several of her friends scolded her, but I assured them that I did not mind. It was part of the job.

My favorite person that evening was a brunette wearing a miniskirt. She had on a red polyester thong that had a black outline and a camel toe wedged in the middle. I rubbed myself against her camel toe, getting partially aroused in the process.

"Can I keep him?" the brunette asked her friends, wrapping her legs around my waist and crossing them at her ankles. "Or can he at least stay the night with me?"

My performance went smoothly. Most of the crowd participated with me to some degree, and even a few ladies took body shots from my mid-section. 

After I finished my strip show, the girls surrounded me to ask help for their scavenger hunt. I decided to be a good sport and play along.

The blue team asked me to have a picture taken with a member of their team holding a razor and pretending to shave my leg. The scavenger hunt rules stated that they were supposed to shave my leg hair, but since my legs were already shaved, the pretense was good enough.

The pink team asked me to strike a silly pose with one of their team members for a picture. I posed with the woman making goofy faces together. That team giggled when they reviewed the picture.

A member of the yellow team needed to write her name on me and take a picture of it. I allowed her to write "Donna" on my arm with a black marker, and we took a picture where I held my arm up to the camera.

Several other team members asked a few questions, such as if my name was "Michael," or if I had any tattoos. I told them "no."

After I satisfied most of the teams, the crowd had one last request: they wanted to buy the thong that I was wearing.

That was one of the items on their scavenger hunt checklist.

They offered $20. I was hesitant at first, because this was my brand new thong that I paid more than $30 for from California Muscle. Then this thought occurred to me: these girls paid a lot of money for a once in a lifetime event with a male stripper, so giving them my thong would really add to their memories. I would be doing them a service.

I did not want to give them my brand new thong though. I had another one in my duffel bag that was in the trunk of my car that was clean. The women offered to follow me out to the street to get it.

My car was parked on the side of the small and narrow concrete road that winded through the cloister of cottages. The few ladies that accompanied me made a lot of noise to attract the attention of a group of people sitting on the porch of a cottage nearby. The group stopped what they were doing and stared at us, a group of girls surrounding one lone guy, in curiosity.

While I opened the trunk of my car to search for my extra thong, the ladies on separate teams began arguing about who would get to buy my thong.

"I offered him money for his underwear first!"

"But you got to shave his leg already!"

"Hey, we got dibs on his underwear!"

"Dion, can you give your underwear to us instead?"

This spectacle carried on while I was searching. I turned around and looked down at the people sitting on a porch nearby. All of them stared in silence, probably wondering what the hell a group of girls were doing fighting over a man's underwear.

When I found my older thong, the women from separate teams finally agreed that the blue team would purchase my thong.

The team leader handed me $40 and I held out the older thong to her.

"Can we have the thong you're wearing, Dion?" she asked me.

"Yeah, the rules state that it has to be the one you're wearing."

I looked around in amazement. These women were eager and excited to have my thong. Even the neighbors on the porch seemed to lean on the edge of their seats to see the outcome.

"Okay," I agreed.

We all went back inside. I went into the bathroom to change. I handed the blue team leader my brand new thong, and she snatched it with gratitude. Next, she placed it against another girl's face.

"Smell it, bitch!" she said. "You know you want it."

We all laughed at that.

Another woman took the thong from the blue team leader and wore it on her head like a headband.

After I left, the blue team leader sent me a picture of herself with my thong wrapped around her hat. I smiled when I saw it.

My Thong on Blue Team Leader's Hat

I never thought in my lifetime that I could sell my underwear to women. I guess that's just one more thing I can check off on my list of "Things That I Have Done."



Post Script:

The paying customer said that she would e-mail me some pics from the party. So far, I haven't gotten any, but when I do, I will make another update.

Regarding my performance, here is a text message she sent me after I left:

"Thank you again! Everyone has been singing your praises! hahaha"

A Strange Coincidence

**Edit** Check out this post for a video from this show:
http://malestripping.blogspot.com/2013/12/video-from-strange-coincidence.html

On top of the bride

August 22, 2013

This bachelorette party took place at a hotel room in Miramar Beach, Florida. There were only seven girls, and I was to act like the hotel management responding to a noise complaint about their party. It was a typical bachelorette event for me, except for one thing: I knew one of the girls.

First, I noticed that the area code of the customer's phone number was the same as mine. I was a little worried, but she told me that she was 19 years old. What was the likelihood that I would encounter someone I know? All of my friends were in their 30s.

As soon as I entered the hotel room though, I recognized one of the girls right away. Her name was Kara, and she used to date my best friend's much younger brother. I met her four years ago at my friend's house when she was 17 and I was 28.

Little did I know then that I would strip for her. 

She had long since broken up with my friend's little brother, but she remembered me well. Hell, I even remembered her dog's name.

While I did my rounds with each girl, she stared at me intently. I did not want to say anything because I did not want her to feel awkward by calling her out in front of her friends. She was either too drunk or too curious to feel the same.

"Aren't you Dion?" she asked.

Everyone stopped and stared at Kara and me in shock. Shit.

"Yeah," I said. "And you're Kara, right?"

"Oh my God!" she said, cupping her mouth. "I never would've guess that you did this!"

Even though Kara hadn't seen me in awhile, she knew a lot about me. A little too much for my comfort. We talked a bit during my friend's family gatherings a few years ago. She knew me as a professional, met my ex-girlfriend, and even knew a lot of stories about me that my friend's family shared with her.

I felt a little nervous because if she started gossiping about my secret stripping job in my hometown, my reputation and my full time job would be at stake. However, she said nothing to her friends.

Instead, we continued on as though nothing happened. 

The rest of the party adored me. The bride clutched me like I was her prize for the evening. In fact, she opened all of her other bridal gifts prior to my arrival, and her sister said that I was her final gift.

Me and Kara

I thought that Kara would feel awkward participating with me, but she showed just as much, if not more enthusiasm than the other girls. When the others put cake icing on her thighs, breasts, and lips, she thrust her hips against me as I licked it off.

The girls put chocolate and vanilla icing all over me, and several of them took turns licking it off of me. They also took body shots from my abs.

"So do you do one-on-one private shows?" one girl inquired. "Because I might be interested!"

"Do you do private massages with happy endings?" another girl asked.

The bride's sister told me that she and her friends were going to a nearby beach that Saturday night and invited me out to go with them.

The girls also planned to hit the clubs that night, and Kara asked if I could come with them. Unfortunately, I had more work that night, so I had to leave soon. 

Kara had her hands all over me while we took pictures together. One of her friends caressed me, asking how much of her I could handle.

If only I could stay longer...

I had to leave to make it to my other gig that night. 

The girls viewed the pictures and videos they had taken during my performance on their phones. I peered over their shoulders and admired a few.

"Want me to send them to you?" Kara asked me.

"Sure," I said. "If you don't mind."

"Give me your number."

I did and she sent me a few pictures immediately. The bride's sister also sent me a few pictures with a promise to send more.

I left with great reluctance.

The next day, I talked to Kara over the phone. She did not tell her friends much about me and said that she would keep my job a secret with everyone I know. She was still in complete and utter shock that I worked as a male stripper on the side.

The bride licking chocolate icing off of me.

"Knowing you from before, I would have never guessed!" she said. "You didn't seem like the type."

"That's why I work out of town," I said. "So I don't run into people I know."

"Same!" she said. "We had the bachelorette party out of town, so we wouldn't run into any people we know!" 

"Well if you ever need me to strip for you again, let me know."

"I definitely will!" she said. "I have your number saved."

Patricia's Trip To Vegas

Patricia, Sandy, and Lana

 

Note from Dion: Patricia contacted me asking if I wanted to read about her experience with a male stripper. Of course I do! I love hearing a woman's take on male strippers with uncensored honesty, and I'm sure other readers would too. Patricia was even generous to include a pic.

Here's Patricia:

About 3 weeks ago I went on a weekend trip to Las Vegas with a couple of friends (I'll call them "Sandy" and "Lana"). It was my first time in Vegas and we were there to celebrate Sandy's bachelorette party. Lana, being the maid-of-honor, did an amazing job planning the entire trip. She even did the research for our 2 full nights, finding a packaged deal for night club crawling and kept insisting that we go to a strip club while we were there (her reasoning was "We have to because it's Vegas!). Sandy and I were not interested however, when Lana found a place that wasn't full frontal (her words: "Relax, this strip tease is light... we won't see men with their dicks out"). Sandy and I agreed. 

When we arrived at the strip club we were swiftly escorted upstairs to where the male dancers were and it looked like what you would pretty much expect. It was dark, there were some flashing lights, a few shirtless men walking around, a guy dancing for a girl on stage. The 3 of us sat down at a table not too far and waited for 3 seats so we could sit closer to the stage. 

The previous night when we'd gone club crawling, Sandy wore a couple of the stereotypical bachelorette accessories: a pink, plastic tiara with a small veil and a pink sash with "bachelorette" written on it. This night however, Sandy gave the accessories for Lana to wear (Lana is single) because she didn't want to get any extra attention from the dancers.  Sandy starts off the night by buying a lap dance for Lana while the 2 of us watched and laughed. While Lana was receiving her dance one of the other dancers came up to me and offered me one. I politely declined and told him perhaps later since at that moment I was enjoying watching my friend receive her's. He replied sure, said that he hoped I enjoyed my time at the club, and then walked away.

After the lap dance for Lana was over a few women had moved away from the stage so we took their seats and enjoyed the view. A dancer came out in a lumber jack costume and was the only one who stripped down to some really short booty shorts instead of a thong. He quickly became our favorite and seemed to be the dancer that tried the least but received the most attention. 

While we watched Mr. Lumber Jack do his thing on stage with another bachelorette, another dancer hugged me from behind and, while cupping my breasts, said "You are so hot, I noticed you earlier and I'm not even one of the dancers, I'm actually a singer." He then proceeded to sing "I Can Show You the World" from the animated Disney movie "Aladdin." After announcing that he was just kidding he asked my 2 friends to pitch in for a dance for me. Sandy said no because she had used her cash on Lana to which I respond with "Ok, ok. I'll pay!" He asked me if I wanted the dance to be more private or out in the open for everyone to see. I laughed nervously and told him I didn't know so he just moved my chair a safe distance from the stage and began to dance.

I don't remember the entire lap dance I received because I found it to be both arousing and humorous. No offense, but I've never really been a fan of a man in a thong so when he had his ass turned to me I couldn't help but laugh. However, he had an AMAZING ass! Another reason why I laughed was probably out of shyness and embarrassment, Sandy took some pictures of both lap dances (mine and Lana's but pictures were almost immediately deleted) and in mine my face was super red.

During my lap dance the stripper mentioned several times that he thought I was "so hot" felt me up and told me he loved my breasts to which I responded with "Thanks!" in a somewhat arrogant tone (what else do you say when a stripper compliments your boobs?!) and keeps dancing. Then he asks me if I'm single, I reply yes, and he goes "it makes me really happy that you're single." While this is going on I'm simultaneously analyzing the situation, comparing it to experiences I've heard from my guy friends with female strippers, and assuming that these are the types of things that a male stripper can say during a lap dance to increase their chances of receiving more money. Also, the whole "I'm really glad you're single" comment made me think, "Is that dirty talk for women? Is that really what women like to hear?" (Just FYI, I studied psychology in college).

He finishes dancing for me, grabs my hand, pulls me into his arms, and goes "Would you like a private dance?" In the midst of all my giggling I managed to force out a no to which he replies "Oh, that's too bad! I'm really sad about that."

Afterwards I paid him the $20 for the dance and before he walks away he goes, "So how long are you in town?"

"Until tomorrow." I said.

"You want to hang out with me and my friends at the pool tomorrow?" He asks.

"Uh, sure. Can my friends come too?" I ask, pointing to both Sandy and Lana. 

"Sure, they're hot... Hey is this your phone?"

I tell him no, that the phone he pointed at wasn't mine and pulled mine out of my purse. He gives me his number, says his name is Noah (to which my first reaction was how that was a horrible stripper name), and tells me to send him a text with my name.

Sandy mentioned several times afterwards that Noah really, really liked me and the dance he gave me was much more provocative then what Lana received from the other dancer. In fact, she said there were a lot of times when my dance was almost "soft-core porn."

I don't remember if this happened before or after my lap dance, but I had been approached by a third stripper asking if I wanted a dance and I declined and apologized to which he politely replied, "No, that's ok. I hope you have a great time, ok?" His tone was so kind and sincere that it really surprised me. I had always thought male strippers were super cocky and douchey but even the ones I rejected a dance from where super nice and made it a point to tell me that they hoped I had a good time before walking away.

We only stayed a few minutes longer, our hour was up and our guide had arrived to escort us to 2 dance clubs but I walked out of that club thinking I was the shit! Ah ha ha ha! I didn't text Noah that night and spent my last day in Vegas with my 2 friends. 

Even before getting a male's stripper's number I, along with my 2 friends, had a blast at the strip club. Sandy was the only one of us who didn't get a dance but she said it was because she didn't feel comfortable receiving a dance when she was in a serious relationship. However, had she been single.... ;-)

The last thing I'll end my story with is that my first (but hopefully not last) experience with a male stripper turned out to be a positive one that completely changed my perception of it. I don't usually get hit on by men that attractive and to be hit on by one that meets a good number of attractive females that pay him to get dirty with them? Needless to say, I came back home with a much larger ego.

Memorial Day Weekend: 05/25/2013

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Bachelorette Party

Gulf Shores, Alabama

12 girls
___________________

The Bachelorette

The tourists hit the Emerald Coast in droves for the Memorial Day weekend, causing quiet resorts of Orange Beach and Gulf Shores, Alabama to bustle with activity as traffic came to a standstill and pedestrians filled the sidewalks, even well into the night. Just a simple drive-by along the beach strip revealed numerous crowds of bachelorette parties going to the bars and clubs. Therefore, I wondered why I only had one bachelorette party this entire weekend.

But after dealing with my last strange gig where a husband hired me to flirt with his wife at a bar(click here for part 1 and part 2), I was ready to return to my home turf of bachelorette parties. And this particular bachelorette party could not have given me a better welcome.

I spoke with the paying customer, Kristee, beforehand, and already got a good vibe before showing up. She told me that none of the girls ever had a male stripper, so I walked her through some of the decadent activities we could do. She agreed to all of my suggestions and said that every girl would be into it with the exception of a pregnant girl.

She wasn't wrong. For me, this party turned out to attain almost complete perfection. 

Its location was in a three-story beach house in Gulf Shores. I showed up in a police costume and told the girls that the neighbors complained on them for having their music too loud. The bachelorette was the only one unaware of a stripper showing up, so she believed that I was a real cop. I rudely told them to keep the music down, and if I had to come back again, I was going to look for a reason to take some people to jail.

The bachelorette looked at her friends incredulously, and said that they had "a right to have fun."

"Listen up," I told the bachelorettte. "You're beginning to piss me off. I don't have to take your shit. How 'bout I shut this party down right now?"

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!" she said.

"That's it," I said, walking towards her. "You're under arrest." I grabbed her arms and smiled. All the girls began cheering.

She relaxed and laughed. "Oh my God!!"

The strip show began. For the first fifteen minutes of the show, I focused only on the bachelorette. The other girls brought me whipped creme, which I took and sprayed it on the bachelorette's breasts to lick off. She in turn showed her appreciation by grabbing my ass, caressing my chest and abs, and running her hands through my hair.

After getting completely out of my police outfit and running through my initial routine, I called a recess period, because I was going to change into another outfit to strip out of. Usually I only use one costume per show, but Kristee wanted two, which wasn't a bad idea, because it kills much more time for the party.

I put my arm around the bachelorette and said, "Okay, I'm going to change into my next costume. Meanwhile, you pick three girls of your choice and place the dollar bills anywhere you want on them. I mean anywhere."

The girls loved this idea. I went upstairs and changed into a white button dress shirt and a pair of shiny black pleather pants. When I went back downstairs to resume the party, I was instantly assaulted by a few girls grabbing my ass and feeling my legs.

"Your ass looks really nice in those pants," one girl said as her hand rubbed along the backside of my pants. I felt another hand caressing my thigh. The feeling of warmth from receiving such praise would never get old.

After getting felt up in a stimulating manner, I finally managed to break away and resume the party with the three girls of the bride's choice. Interestingly enough, the first was the pregnant girl Kristee told me about. I couldn't man-handle her, so I just sat her down on the couch where she proceeded to grope me with a ravenous, carnal appetite, like I was her sexual morsel to devour. Pregnancy did nothing to stop her from having a little fun with my body. I stripped off my pants and shirt for her; only my red thong and black boots remained on.

The bride's third choice.

For the other two girls, I used the whipped creme and body shots on them, chasing the body shots by taking lime slices from their mouths with my own. I kissed their necks, and spent a little extra time massaging their thighs as I straddled between their legs. Just before I got too aroused with each girl, I got up and moved on.

There were about twelve girls total. Each of them had a wild turn with me, even the shyest who didn't want to participate at first. But after her friends pressured her, she relented acting as though she was going to hate my presence. She cupped her hands over her face and begged me to leave her alone, then she peeked from her fingers, grabbed my ass, then cupped her face again. "I don't want to do this," she said, as I was dry humping her. The sensual touch of her hands on me told me just how much she really hated it. After I was done with her, she got up with a smile and spanked my ass.

The girls ordered a party bus with a stripper pole to pick them up. Towards the end of my performance, the bus arrived. The girls wanted me to perform inside for a short while, to dance on the pole, something I hadn't done since working at the club, Jetset, back in Gainesville.

The driver of the party bus was a shorter guy wearing glasses, who resembled Leonard from the show, "Big Bang Theory." He greeted everyone and opened the door. The girls got inside and sat down while I danced in front of them. The bus driver waited outside. I wondered what he thought of this situation.

The interior of the bus was like a night club on wheels. The bass of the dance music pounded with each drum beat, and it was dark except the ambient lights that constantly shifted to different colors. A stripper pole was in the middle. I hooked one leg on it and twirled around, coming to a stop with my ass in one girl's face. She tucked a dollar into my thong. I got off the pole before I ended up doing something stupid and hurting myself.

I directed my attention only onto the girls who had not had a turn. One of them was quite horny and bold, because as soon as I stepped in front of her, she grabbed my cock and massaged it.

We wrapped up the finale by having the bus driver take a group photo of us. While we were posing for pictures, the bachelorette placed her hand on my cock and posed.

As I was about to get off the bus, the driver asked if he could get my contact info, because he had bachelorette parties all the time requesting male strippers. He said that having a male stripper work on his party bus for the bachelorette party crowd would be the cherry on the icing for business, and we'd both make good money respectively. I gave him my number and told him to keep in touch.

Kristee walked me off the bus and back inside the beach house so I could get the rest of my belongings.

"Thanks for popping our cherries," Kristee said. "We were all male stripper virgins and you were our first."

I told her that I was proud to have the honors. Her party was about as perfect as a bachelorette party could get. They tipped me very well, everyone participated with utmost enthusiasm, and there was a reciprocal enjoyment between me and the girls that was genuine. If only every party went this well.
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On my way home from the bachelorette party, I saw a man and woman walking along the highway just past the Florabama club that rested on the Florida and Alabama state line. The man was carrying an American flag and the woman was hitchhiking. They appeared young.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I pulled over.

They both ran over to my vehicle, expressing gratitude. They told me that they took a cab to the clubs on the beach, but due to the overwhelming amount of people over the Memorial Day weekend, the wait for a cab ride home was two hours, so they decided to walk.

It was a long walk too, but only a ten to fifteen minute drive. We talked on the way.

They introduced themselves as Rafe and Andrea from Indiana. They were down on vacation. I told them that I was a male stripper on my way back from a bachelorette party, which incited surprise and laughter. It was a fun car ride full of lively conversation.

Rafe insisted on paying me ten dollars for the ride and would not accept 'no' for an answer. I dropped them off at their beach house. Rafe and Andrea exchanged names for Facebook with me. I added them yesterday and Rafe wrote this about me:

"First nite in florida, thought I could get a cab... everyone told me it would be a two hour wait, so me and Andrea started walking. Little did we know we would be picked up by the nicest male stripper in the world. An 18 min car car ride would of been one heck of a walk, but this guy was so awesome to pick us up and drop us off at our door was probably one of the most extraordinary person I've ever met. Thanks dude!!!"

So for the Memorial Day Weekend, I had a perfect party and met some cool people. It's nights like these where I love my job.