Titty Bar

I went to a strip club last night. I’m all boobied out. I don’t even wanna look at mine… which are still covered in hickies.

I got in for free because my buddy Jay runs a beauty salon that the manager frequents and she gave him a VIP card that’s good for a year. He also paid for all the drinks… and a lap dance for me. Huzzah!

I was fucking blitzed, so the experience was a little weird. I tried to have a conversation with her but she kept riding my lap and placing my hands on her danger zones. (I learned her name is Alexandra, she’s from Russia, and she moved here ten years ago.) There was a lot of titty grabbin’ on both our parts, though I think I was mostly intrigued by the silicone. I’ve felt fake tits before (courtesy of a sorority sister of mine), but these had a lot more give to them. Maybe having them kneaded and massaged all the time softened ’em up. Or maybe she has perfect breasts and I’m a lucky bastard to have had them in my face. Should’ve asked if they were real, but I don’t know the proper stripper-booby etiquette on that.

Anyhow, it felt like a nice, sensual massage until she licked my ear and I kinda did this gasp/moan combo (I have very sensitive ears and neck). She laughed and called me cute. Drunk Jessica engaged. “Well you have a heart of gold.” She cupped my ass and thrust her crotch into my hips. Woah, heyo. I don’t know what’s going on anymore. She did this twirly, hip swivel thing while touching my neck and collarbone (JESUS) and said “I hope you enjoyed your time with me, cutie.” I giggled and covered my mouth with the back of my hand. Something strange happens to me when people call me cute. I turn into this puppy that just wants to please its master. When the Devil comes to collect my soul, he’ll only have to say “Follow me, cutie pie,” and I’ll skip into the fiery pits of Hell.

I went back downstairs to find that both Jay and Matt had done some extra heavy drinking. Matt handed me the car keys and then made a bee line for the men’s bathroom where he threw up and fell asleep on the toilet seat. Beautiful.

We stayed until last call and then we left the club to see about twelve police cruisers on the street. All the more reason to get the hell out of dodge. I drove through downtown Baltimore, stopped at a McDonald’s close to campus for greasy goodness, and put everyone to bed out in the living room.

We had spaghetti for breakfast.

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