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.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
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
Message:
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
Message:
My Response: Oh no... My horrible secret revealed!
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3. From: Anonymous (From the comments section here)
Message:
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)
Subject:
Message:
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.
---------------------------------------------------------------
1.) From: Cindy (last name and e-mail omitted)
Subject: Your Blog
Message:
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.
Cindy
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
Message:
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)
Message:
...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)
Subject:
Message:
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.
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.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Highlights From June 2012
Orange Beach, Alabama
June
Bachelorette Party
This show took place at a condo with at least twenty girls in attendance. The bachelorette called me "David" because I looked like her soon-to-be husband. When another girl attempted to stick a dollar bill up the bachelorette's skirt for me to fish out with my mouth, the bachelorette quickly snapped her legs together and said, "No, don't let him go there! I'm on the rag!"
During my performance, the bachelorette demanded that I treat her "respectfully" because she was getting married. Next, she proceeded to aggressively rub her ass against my crouch, which I would enjoyed had I not been constantly thinking about the fact that she was 'on the rag.' After that, she made multiple requests to see my cock.
The bachelorette insisted that I dance with her as she went to the center of the living room and initiated a dance that reminded me more of a drunken chicken flapping around in place. At some point during her strange ritual, she launched a few kicks in the air as part of her dance. I ducked away and avoided several drunken and flailing kicks, but one caught me with a glancing blow to the face. I ended the show then and there.
The bachelorette apologized, kissed the area where she kicked me, and then got some ice packed into a ziplock bag and began to nurse and baby me. She then fixed me some dinner, so all was forgiven.
When I gathered my things and was walking toward the front door, the bachelorette asked once more for me to 'pull out my cock and jack off' for her. Clutching the ice pack to my face, I shook my head and walked out the door.
-------------------------------------------
Mobile, Alabama
June
Bachelorette Party
This show took place in nice house in a subdivision on the outskirts of Mobile. Per my request, my company does not have a picture or profile of me available to the public, so Selena, the girl who hired me for the bachelorette party, had a few questions when I called her prior to the party.
I found this exchange between us rather odd since a girl has never asked me the color of my eyes prior to arriving for a show. Usually women take more interest in what I'm going to wear or what I'm going to do. When I arrived in front of the house, Selana came outside to meet me. Selena was an attractive Hispanic girl, her skin was dark olive, and she had long, flowing black hair and almond shaped eyes. Her face had an exotic grace that made her more attractive. Upon seeing me, Selena breathed a sigh of relief.
I laughed. I was about to inform her that I was half Asian, but decided it was unnecessary. She paid me and I went inside and performed for approximately half a dozen girls. The girls proved to be a lively and receptive audience. Selena appeared to enjoy herself immensely when I interacted with her, as she caressed and grabbed me more than the other girls. After I finished the performance, Selena walked me to my car.
The private dance requests don't come too often, especially from someone as attractive as Selena. In fact, most men would pay her for a private show intead. Selena hugged me and kissed me before I got in my car and left, promising to hire me in the fall for her own birthday present.
That is one show I am eager to do.
--------------------------------------------------------
June
Bachelorette Party
This show took place at a condo with at least twenty girls in attendance. The bachelorette called me "David" because I looked like her soon-to-be husband. When another girl attempted to stick a dollar bill up the bachelorette's skirt for me to fish out with my mouth, the bachelorette quickly snapped her legs together and said, "No, don't let him go there! I'm on the rag!"
During my performance, the bachelorette demanded that I treat her "respectfully" because she was getting married. Next, she proceeded to aggressively rub her ass against my crouch, which I would enjoyed had I not been constantly thinking about the fact that she was 'on the rag.' After that, she made multiple requests to see my cock.
The bachelorette insisted that I dance with her as she went to the center of the living room and initiated a dance that reminded me more of a drunken chicken flapping around in place. At some point during her strange ritual, she launched a few kicks in the air as part of her dance. I ducked away and avoided several drunken and flailing kicks, but one caught me with a glancing blow to the face. I ended the show then and there.
The bachelorette apologized, kissed the area where she kicked me, and then got some ice packed into a ziplock bag and began to nurse and baby me. She then fixed me some dinner, so all was forgiven.
When I gathered my things and was walking toward the front door, the bachelorette asked once more for me to 'pull out my cock and jack off' for her. Clutching the ice pack to my face, I shook my head and walked out the door.
-------------------------------------------
Mobile, Alabama
June
Bachelorette Party
This show took place in nice house in a subdivision on the outskirts of Mobile. Per my request, my company does not have a picture or profile of me available to the public, so Selena, the girl who hired me for the bachelorette party, had a few questions when I called her prior to the party.
Selena (speaking with a Spanish accent): What's your name?
Me: Dion.
Selena: What do you look like?
Me: What do you mean?
Selena: What color are your eyes and hair?
Me: Brown eyes, black hair.
I found this exchange between us rather odd since a girl has never asked me the color of my eyes prior to arriving for a show. Usually women take more interest in what I'm going to wear or what I'm going to do. When I arrived in front of the house, Selana came outside to meet me. Selena was an attractive Hispanic girl, her skin was dark olive, and she had long, flowing black hair and almond shaped eyes. Her face had an exotic grace that made her more attractive. Upon seeing me, Selena breathed a sigh of relief.
Selena: Oh, thank God you're white. I thought you were black.
Dion: Why's that?
Selena: Dion is usually name of black guy and you said you had brown eyes and black hair. The company did not have a picture of you, so I was worried.
I laughed. I was about to inform her that I was half Asian, but decided it was unnecessary. She paid me and I went inside and performed for approximately half a dozen girls. The girls proved to be a lively and receptive audience. Selena appeared to enjoy herself immensely when I interacted with her, as she caressed and grabbed me more than the other girls. After I finished the performance, Selena walked me to my car.
Selena (in her thick Spanish accent): Do you offer private lap dance?
Dion: What do you mean?
Selena: I want to hire you to strip for me. I want private show. No other girls.
Dion: Yes, I can do that. You got my number.
The private dance requests don't come too often, especially from someone as attractive as Selena. In fact, most men would pay her for a private show intead. Selena hugged me and kissed me before I got in my car and left, promising to hire me in the fall for her own birthday present.
That is one show I am eager to do.
--------------------------------------------------------
Sunday, August 26, 2012
The Epidemic Blue Bean
Friday, August 25, 2012. 9 P.M.
Bachelorette Party
Gulf Shores, Alabama
A girl named Lacey hired me for Melissa's bachelorette party at a beach condo in Gulf Shores, Alabama. There were six girls ranging from ages 18 to 28 years old. All of the other girls knew that I was coming except for the bachelorette. When I contacted Lacey over the phone, she sounded friendly and easygoing, which is always a good sign."I don't know how the other girls are going to be," Lacey said. "This is the first time for everybody having a stripper."
"Don't worry," I told her. "I'll make sure everyone has fun."
One thing that puzzled me was the fact that my agent did not specify which costume to wear, so I asked Lacey. She just replied that she wanted 'the most popular costume.' The most popular costume was, of course, the cop, but Lacey said that she didn't care either way, so I chose something simple and easy to take off. My outfit comprised of a blue, button down dress shirt, which only takes several seconds to unbutton. I wore my black, patent leather, knee-high boots that zipped up along the calf, and I usually keep these on even after taking off everything else. For the pants, I chose a pair of faux-leather pants that had a polyurethane coat over lycra, giving them a black, sleek and shiny look. The pants were somewhat tight around my hips and thighs, but loosened around the calf areas, making them ideal to take off while keeping my boots on.
I went over the routine with Lacey: Lacey would meet me outside the hotel room and pay me. I would enter, find Melissa and strip for her. As I stripped, Lacey and her friends would shove dollar bills into Melissa's bra for me to fish out, and they would provide a shot glass and alcohol for body shots. Yes, it was basic and similar to almost every other show, but I hate spending so much time and effort preparing for a routine when in reality I spend the majority of the show nearly naked and dry-humping women anyway.
My trip to Gulf Shores went as planned. When I arrived, I knocked on the door and Lacey came outside to meet me with a cellphone in one hand and an envelope full of cash in the other. She was a brunette that had very light blue eyes which contrasted to her olive skin tone. She was wearing short shorts, and a halter top that hugged her petite hourglass figure; she had an extremely slender waist that flowed out into a set of widened hips that gave her the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle---slim in the middle with wider proportions at the top and bottom. Her appearance and demeanor showed that she took care of herself and was raised with good manners. She thanked me for coming and paid me the down payment. "I'll go back inside, so just knock when you're ready and I'll answer the door for you," she said.
"Sounds good. I'll knock on the door in a minute or two."
"Looking forward to it," Lacey smiled, and attempted to enter the room to the condo, but it was locked. "Whoops, I forgot the key."
We both laughed. Lacey used her cellphone to call one of the girls inside, but no one answered. "I'll just knock," I said. "And I guess you can just follow me inside."
I was happy that I didn't plan an elaborate routine, because things rarely go as planned. After a few moments of knocking, one of the girls answered the door to let me and Lacey inside. Upon entering the condo, I walked through the hallway, which opened out into the kitchen and living room. The living room had two couches which were occupied by every girl at the party except Lacey who was standing behind me. I scanned for the bachelorette, which proved difficult since I had forgotten to ask for a description of her. This party had an equal mixture of blondes and brunettes, and every girl on the couch looked as if she could be the soon-to-be bride.
Fuck it. I decided to wing it. "I'm here for Melissa," I said.
One of the blonde girls began to cover her face while the others turned to face her, so closed in on her. This time turned out like many times before: I stripped for the bachelorette, pulled the dollar bills out of her bra with my teeth, and then took body shots from the other girls' abs. The main difference between this party and the others was that the girls at this party had well-defined abs. Several of them had muscle tone on their arms, which reflected a lifestyle of exercise and eating well. When I asked them if they exercised, a few replied that they ran cross-country while the others claimed to do weight-lifting. Six fitness girls and me. As an avid admirer of fitness girls, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
I cycled through each girl, finally getting Lacey, who had a six-pack for abs. As I was taking body shots from her, I noticed a bowl of alcohol-soaked gummi worms on the table next to me. I took a yellow, green and red gummi worm and dangled it over Lacey's mouth. "Open up," I said. Lacey complied and I slowly inserted the gummi worm into mouth, leaving half of it outside her mouth. Lacey closed her mouth and I closed in on her and took the other half of the gummi worm into my mouth, sucking it in until our lips met. The taste of the gummi worm nearly caused me to choke since it had an overpowering aroma of vodka, which I wasn't prepared for.
"Oh my God, Heather," one of the girls called out. "Check this out. You're missing it."
Heather came running from the kitchen to witness my interactions with Lacey, but arrived just as I was pulling away from Lacey, who was beginning to chew her gummi worm.
"Want me to do that again," I asked the other girls.
"Yes!"
I placed another gummi worm into Heather's Lacey's mouth even though she still wasn't finished with the first one. As I reached down to get it, I grabbed her legs, spread them apart, and placed myself between them, moving up and down to the rhythm of the music in the room. I made sure to retrieve the gummi worm slowly this time, causing the other girls to cheer and take pictures. Lacey must have felt me getting hard during that time as we were exchanging the taste of alcoholic gummi worms.
After Lacey came a qwerky brunette named Claire. She wore a loose white t-shirt and short, red gym shorts that revealed her long tanned legs that felt smooth to the touch. I placed Claire on the ground in the missionary position and lifted up her t-shirt, which exposed abdominal muscles that were just as well defined as Lacey's. By now, I was wondering if these girls exercised together. I took several body shots from Claire's midsection and then thrust myself against the crevice of Claire's shorts, where her vagina was. We rested on the floor, entangled and hesitant to extract ourselves. "I'm getting really turned on," said Claire to the amusement of everyone else in the room.
"I had better stop then before I make you too wet," I joked, pulling myself away and lifting Claire from the floor.
Instead of getting embarrassed, Claire laughed. "Too late for that, honey. I'm already wet."
Several girls laughed. "Claire!" one of them said in a chiding tone.
Similar antics followed for the remaining girls. Some of them seemed reluctant to participate, but they soon buckled under the overwhelming peer pressure from everyone else, especially Claire. "Come on girl," she goaded. "You know you want that cock."
After I had interacted with each and every girl once or twice, I began to put my clothes back on. Claire and Lacey approached me during this time. "Why don't you stay a little longer?" Claire asked.
Before I could answer, Lacey piped in, "Yeah, you can play beer pong with us."
In truth, I had never played beer pong in my life. I have watched others play it though. With the exception of taking shots from a random girl's midsection or cleavage, I don't drink alcohol very often. Bars, clubs, and house parties never appealed to me. Perhaps that was why I went all of these years---even through college---without playing a single game of beer pong. When I told the girls this fact, they all were shocked.
"You never played before!?"
"Nope."
Lacey slipped her arm around my arm and pulled me toward the table where several plastic cups were set up in a triangle formation on each side of the table, reminding me of bowling pins but with plastic red cups full of beer. Lacey told me that all I had to do was toss a ping pong ball into one of the cups on the opposite side of the table, and the person on the other team would have to drink from that cup. Likewise if the other team member tossed a ping pong ball into our set of cups, we would have to drink from that cup.
"I can't drink," I told Lacey. "I have to drive home."
She patted my arm with her hand and got closer to me, looking up at me with her light blue eyes. She was so close to me that I felt as though she was on the verge of making out with me. "I'll drink for you then," she said.
The ping pong game started off. It was Lacey and I versus Claire and Melissa. Everyone was so engaged in conversation that the beer pong game carried on barely noticed. Being the most sober one present, I rang the cups with accuracy. Claire either had luck or good depth perception, because she had managed to score a few points herself, causing Lacey to drink more beer. At some point during the game, Lacey had her arm around my lower back and her head against my shoulder. Her arm that was around me lowered until it was around my ass. After several moments of playing ping pong and engaging in conversation, I felt her hand caress the left portion of my ass.
"I like your pants," she said, tracing her hand up and down along the sleek blackness of my faux-leather pants.
"Just the pants?" I asked.
The other girls laughed and began to tease Lacey, whose face flushed crimson. After several more good natured taunts from her friends, Lacey said, "So how do you get your butt firm like the way you have it?"
"Squats with weights," I replied. "But I felt your ass while we were dancing earlier and it was pretty nice for me." My comment caused Lacey to blush even more.
Apparently the alcohol did little to diminish her embarrassment. Claire used this opportunity to announce to everyone that Lacey "had a crush" on me. "You're one to talk," I told Claire. "Didn't you say that you were getting turned on when I was straddling you earlier?"
Claire grinned. "Hell yeah I was getting turned on. I'll admit what no one else will. Everyone in this room was getting turned on by you. Especially Lacey here." Lacey stared at me and said nothing to refute Claire's claims. Neither did the other girls. One girl in the background answered, "Yeah, it's true."
One thing I have noticed during my years as a male stripper is that women get turned by a male stripper much more than I had realized. I used to think that most women hire male strippers for the sole amusement of watching their friends get embarrassed. However, what Claire has pointed out reflects more and more throughout my parties, especially this one. A lot of girls get turned on by the male stripper.
The way that Lacey was staring at me also mirrored Claire's words. Shortly thereafter, we finished our game of beer pong, I readied myself to leave since I had errands early the following morning. Before I walked out, Claire said, "Thanks for giving everyone the 'blue bean.'
"Blue bean?" I said. "What's that?"
"It's when a girl gets so aroused that her clit gets filled with blood," Claire said.
"Wow. I learn something new everyday." With that, I gathered my money and thanked everyone. Each girl gave me a hug before I left. Lacey walked me outside. "I had a lot of fun," she said.
"Me too," I said. "You have my number. Let me know if you ever head out this way."
"I will," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
As I left, I wondered if Lacey had a bad case of the 'blue bean.'
Bachelorette Party
Gulf Shores, Alabama
A girl named Lacey hired me for Melissa's bachelorette party at a beach condo in Gulf Shores, Alabama. There were six girls ranging from ages 18 to 28 years old. All of the other girls knew that I was coming except for the bachelorette. When I contacted Lacey over the phone, she sounded friendly and easygoing, which is always a good sign."I don't know how the other girls are going to be," Lacey said. "This is the first time for everybody having a stripper."
"Don't worry," I told her. "I'll make sure everyone has fun."
One thing that puzzled me was the fact that my agent did not specify which costume to wear, so I asked Lacey. She just replied that she wanted 'the most popular costume.' The most popular costume was, of course, the cop, but Lacey said that she didn't care either way, so I chose something simple and easy to take off. My outfit comprised of a blue, button down dress shirt, which only takes several seconds to unbutton. I wore my black, patent leather, knee-high boots that zipped up along the calf, and I usually keep these on even after taking off everything else. For the pants, I chose a pair of faux-leather pants that had a polyurethane coat over lycra, giving them a black, sleek and shiny look. The pants were somewhat tight around my hips and thighs, but loosened around the calf areas, making them ideal to take off while keeping my boots on.
I went over the routine with Lacey: Lacey would meet me outside the hotel room and pay me. I would enter, find Melissa and strip for her. As I stripped, Lacey and her friends would shove dollar bills into Melissa's bra for me to fish out, and they would provide a shot glass and alcohol for body shots. Yes, it was basic and similar to almost every other show, but I hate spending so much time and effort preparing for a routine when in reality I spend the majority of the show nearly naked and dry-humping women anyway.
My trip to Gulf Shores went as planned. When I arrived, I knocked on the door and Lacey came outside to meet me with a cellphone in one hand and an envelope full of cash in the other. She was a brunette that had very light blue eyes which contrasted to her olive skin tone. She was wearing short shorts, and a halter top that hugged her petite hourglass figure; she had an extremely slender waist that flowed out into a set of widened hips that gave her the shape of a Coca-Cola bottle---slim in the middle with wider proportions at the top and bottom. Her appearance and demeanor showed that she took care of herself and was raised with good manners. She thanked me for coming and paid me the down payment. "I'll go back inside, so just knock when you're ready and I'll answer the door for you," she said.
"Sounds good. I'll knock on the door in a minute or two."
"Looking forward to it," Lacey smiled, and attempted to enter the room to the condo, but it was locked. "Whoops, I forgot the key."
We both laughed. Lacey used her cellphone to call one of the girls inside, but no one answered. "I'll just knock," I said. "And I guess you can just follow me inside."
I was happy that I didn't plan an elaborate routine, because things rarely go as planned. After a few moments of knocking, one of the girls answered the door to let me and Lacey inside. Upon entering the condo, I walked through the hallway, which opened out into the kitchen and living room. The living room had two couches which were occupied by every girl at the party except Lacey who was standing behind me. I scanned for the bachelorette, which proved difficult since I had forgotten to ask for a description of her. This party had an equal mixture of blondes and brunettes, and every girl on the couch looked as if she could be the soon-to-be bride.
Fuck it. I decided to wing it. "I'm here for Melissa," I said.
One of the blonde girls began to cover her face while the others turned to face her, so closed in on her. This time turned out like many times before: I stripped for the bachelorette, pulled the dollar bills out of her bra with my teeth, and then took body shots from the other girls' abs. The main difference between this party and the others was that the girls at this party had well-defined abs. Several of them had muscle tone on their arms, which reflected a lifestyle of exercise and eating well. When I asked them if they exercised, a few replied that they ran cross-country while the others claimed to do weight-lifting. Six fitness girls and me. As an avid admirer of fitness girls, I felt like I had died and gone to heaven.
I cycled through each girl, finally getting Lacey, who had a six-pack for abs. As I was taking body shots from her, I noticed a bowl of alcohol-soaked gummi worms on the table next to me. I took a yellow, green and red gummi worm and dangled it over Lacey's mouth. "Open up," I said. Lacey complied and I slowly inserted the gummi worm into mouth, leaving half of it outside her mouth. Lacey closed her mouth and I closed in on her and took the other half of the gummi worm into my mouth, sucking it in until our lips met. The taste of the gummi worm nearly caused me to choke since it had an overpowering aroma of vodka, which I wasn't prepared for.
"Oh my God, Heather," one of the girls called out. "Check this out. You're missing it."
Heather came running from the kitchen to witness my interactions with Lacey, but arrived just as I was pulling away from Lacey, who was beginning to chew her gummi worm.
"Want me to do that again," I asked the other girls.
"Yes!"
I placed another gummi worm into Heather's Lacey's mouth even though she still wasn't finished with the first one. As I reached down to get it, I grabbed her legs, spread them apart, and placed myself between them, moving up and down to the rhythm of the music in the room. I made sure to retrieve the gummi worm slowly this time, causing the other girls to cheer and take pictures. Lacey must have felt me getting hard during that time as we were exchanging the taste of alcoholic gummi worms.
After Lacey came a qwerky brunette named Claire. She wore a loose white t-shirt and short, red gym shorts that revealed her long tanned legs that felt smooth to the touch. I placed Claire on the ground in the missionary position and lifted up her t-shirt, which exposed abdominal muscles that were just as well defined as Lacey's. By now, I was wondering if these girls exercised together. I took several body shots from Claire's midsection and then thrust myself against the crevice of Claire's shorts, where her vagina was. We rested on the floor, entangled and hesitant to extract ourselves. "I'm getting really turned on," said Claire to the amusement of everyone else in the room.
"I had better stop then before I make you too wet," I joked, pulling myself away and lifting Claire from the floor.
Instead of getting embarrassed, Claire laughed. "Too late for that, honey. I'm already wet."
Several girls laughed. "Claire!" one of them said in a chiding tone.
Similar antics followed for the remaining girls. Some of them seemed reluctant to participate, but they soon buckled under the overwhelming peer pressure from everyone else, especially Claire. "Come on girl," she goaded. "You know you want that cock."
After I had interacted with each and every girl once or twice, I began to put my clothes back on. Claire and Lacey approached me during this time. "Why don't you stay a little longer?" Claire asked.
Before I could answer, Lacey piped in, "Yeah, you can play beer pong with us."
In truth, I had never played beer pong in my life. I have watched others play it though. With the exception of taking shots from a random girl's midsection or cleavage, I don't drink alcohol very often. Bars, clubs, and house parties never appealed to me. Perhaps that was why I went all of these years---even through college---without playing a single game of beer pong. When I told the girls this fact, they all were shocked.
"You never played before!?"
"Nope."
Lacey slipped her arm around my arm and pulled me toward the table where several plastic cups were set up in a triangle formation on each side of the table, reminding me of bowling pins but with plastic red cups full of beer. Lacey told me that all I had to do was toss a ping pong ball into one of the cups on the opposite side of the table, and the person on the other team would have to drink from that cup. Likewise if the other team member tossed a ping pong ball into our set of cups, we would have to drink from that cup.
"I can't drink," I told Lacey. "I have to drive home."
She patted my arm with her hand and got closer to me, looking up at me with her light blue eyes. She was so close to me that I felt as though she was on the verge of making out with me. "I'll drink for you then," she said.
The ping pong game started off. It was Lacey and I versus Claire and Melissa. Everyone was so engaged in conversation that the beer pong game carried on barely noticed. Being the most sober one present, I rang the cups with accuracy. Claire either had luck or good depth perception, because she had managed to score a few points herself, causing Lacey to drink more beer. At some point during the game, Lacey had her arm around my lower back and her head against my shoulder. Her arm that was around me lowered until it was around my ass. After several moments of playing ping pong and engaging in conversation, I felt her hand caress the left portion of my ass.
"I like your pants," she said, tracing her hand up and down along the sleek blackness of my faux-leather pants.
"Just the pants?" I asked.
The other girls laughed and began to tease Lacey, whose face flushed crimson. After several more good natured taunts from her friends, Lacey said, "So how do you get your butt firm like the way you have it?"
"Squats with weights," I replied. "But I felt your ass while we were dancing earlier and it was pretty nice for me." My comment caused Lacey to blush even more.
Apparently the alcohol did little to diminish her embarrassment. Claire used this opportunity to announce to everyone that Lacey "had a crush" on me. "You're one to talk," I told Claire. "Didn't you say that you were getting turned on when I was straddling you earlier?"
Claire grinned. "Hell yeah I was getting turned on. I'll admit what no one else will. Everyone in this room was getting turned on by you. Especially Lacey here." Lacey stared at me and said nothing to refute Claire's claims. Neither did the other girls. One girl in the background answered, "Yeah, it's true."
One thing I have noticed during my years as a male stripper is that women get turned by a male stripper much more than I had realized. I used to think that most women hire male strippers for the sole amusement of watching their friends get embarrassed. However, what Claire has pointed out reflects more and more throughout my parties, especially this one. A lot of girls get turned on by the male stripper.
The way that Lacey was staring at me also mirrored Claire's words. Shortly thereafter, we finished our game of beer pong, I readied myself to leave since I had errands early the following morning. Before I walked out, Claire said, "Thanks for giving everyone the 'blue bean.'
"Blue bean?" I said. "What's that?"
"It's when a girl gets so aroused that her clit gets filled with blood," Claire said.
"Wow. I learn something new everyday." With that, I gathered my money and thanked everyone. Each girl gave me a hug before I left. Lacey walked me outside. "I had a lot of fun," she said.
"Me too," I said. "You have my number. Let me know if you ever head out this way."
"I will," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
As I left, I wondered if Lacey had a bad case of the 'blue bean.'
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