Stripper Stories

Okay, my last post was kind of a downer, so to remedy that I unofficially declared this week to be stripper week.  So everyone tee up your best stripper stories and get posting.  Here come a couple of my favorites.  Pretty much all of mine involve one of my very best friends in the whole world.  I'm not going to mention him by name, but any of my friends in real life who might stumble across this blog will know exactly who I'm discussing just from the descriptions.

This friend loves strip clubs.  I personally find them frustrating.  Why should I pay a cover and then tip a hot young girl to tease and titillate me?  Still...I've spent my share of time in the clubs.  Here in Iowa they have two different kinds of strip clubs.  The ones with liquor licenses limit the girls to g-strings and pasties.  There are other clubs that are known colloquially as "juice bars".  These clubs don't sell any liquor, but usually have a steep cover charge.  You are allowed to bring in your own beer and they will even provide you with ice for it.  Since the laws that determine how much skin the girls can show are tied to the liquor laws, this loophole allows the dancers at the juice bars to go full nude.  Both of the upcoming stories happened at one of the juice bar clubs.

The above mentioned friend loved anything that involved naked women: pornographic movies, pornographic magazines, strip clubs, etc.  He heard that one of his favorite Penthouse Pets was going to be appearing at one of the seedier strip joints in town, so he begged me and a couple of other friends to come along with him. He insisted we get there early so we could grab seats right in the front along the edge of the stage.  When the Penthouse Pet came out (I can't remember her name) for her first set she was dressed as a school girl complete with pig tails and a lollipop. As she took the stage she took the lollipop and put it under her skirt.  I don't know if she *ahem* inserted it or not, but we were left to assume she did.  She held it up in the air and playfully asked who wanted it.  My buddy's hand shot up in the air and when she handed it to him he popped it straight in his mouth.  I may have gagged a little.

In her second set she asked for a volunteer.  Of course my buddy was the first and only volunteer.  At this point he was comfortably drunk, but I think he would have been just as enthusiastic if he had been stone sober.  She brought him up on stage and stripped off his shirt.  Now my friend was far from sculpted.  He had a physique that could best be described as doughy. Next she opened his pants, but didn't pull them down.  It still exposed his cute baby blue Calvin Klein briefs.  She handed him a peeled banana and had him hold it so that it served as a proxy for his own member.  She covered it in whipped cream and proceeded to simulate a certain act on it.  When she finished up she took the whole soggy, sloppy, sticky mess and shoved it in the top of his skivvies and ground it in before zipping him up.

Was he humiliated by this?  Not at all.  He climbed off the stage pulling on his shirt with a broad grin on his face.  It wasn't until later when we were driving back to our favorite bar that he glumly announced that he had banana running up the crack of his ass.

I only have one Vegas stripper story and it isn't crazy, but is kind of funny.  In 2004 we were in Vegas to celebrate a buddy's bachelor party.  We wound up at the Spearmint Rhino.  The majority of the girls there were absolutely stunning, but at $20 for a single lap dance it was out of our low-roller price range.  We stayed for a short while and all pitched in to get some dances for the bachelor, but it wasn't long before we were ready to get back to the poker room and/or blackjack tables. When we arrived at the club we were shown to some tables fairly near the stage.  I was barely in my seat before a dancer started grinding on me and whispered that my friend had bought me a dance.  The dancer was facing away from me shaking her money maker when my best friend leans over and says, "Are you enjoying your muppet lap dance?"  Before I could form the word, "What?" the dancer turned around to face me and hand to God her face looked exactly like this:

I had to fight to keep from cracking up right in her face.

If this whole stripper story thing takes off I may share the story of the craziest bachelor party I ever attended at a place called Roxy's in East St. Louis.


So come on boys...pull back the veil on your craziest stripper stories.