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sreggie101 wrote:

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justhotkicks wrote:

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2001. Sainte-Foy, Quebec.

It was my last year of HS, so during our winter break, my boys and I planned a ski-trip to Canada. Immediately upon arrival at the hotel, all seven of us hit up the concierge and asked for a good strip club. He immediately pointed us to this spot called Cabaret Carol (you can google it). After dinner, we took a cab straight there. To me, the strip-club outing was supposed to be a night of 'learning'; I had never been to a strip club nor have I had alcohol in a public place as someone of legal age (not that I was, had a fake iD). Sainte-Foy, to me, had a very small-town vibe, and so I expected the women to reflect my opinion of the town - plain jane, regular looking women. It being a Monday also played a role in my expectations. So on this surprisingly mild February (about 55 degrees) evening in Canada, my friends and I set out to start this trip off right.

We immediately took the seats by the stage. The first woman to dance was downright gorgeous - a mix between Lacey Chabert and Sarah Michelle Gellar (as deduced by my friends during or many recollections of this night over the last decade) - and I instantly fell in love. She looked wickedly innocent and had a tight body to boot. She and I kept eye contact a lot, but I didn't think much of it - she was just doing her job (and doing it damn well). So after watching 3-4 dancers and drinking a ton of beers, we finally decided to get dances. They were a mere ten Canadian dollars a piece, but a 'VIP' room that was closed off with a black curtain was offered for just 5 Canadian dollars more. It was behind a black curtain with an ornate sign that read 'VIP PLEASURE' above the doorway. My friend had the gonads to go VIP first and he came out about ten minutes later, describing the experience as a slightly longer lapdance with more seductive dancing (as if grinding on your crotch whilst topless wasn't seductive enough). I already had a long dance with the Lacey Michelle Gellar dancer which included a lot of kissing, and was tempted to ask her to the VIP room as I stared at her yearningly, but before I could get up to ask her, I noticed her walking in my direction. I remained seated until she arrived in front of me, but before the words came out of my mouth, she grabbed my hand and walked me to the VIP room. This stripper could read minds.

The VIP room is just a dark room lit by candles. There's a black couch that, if hit by a blacklight, would probably illuminate so powerfully that it would be registered from a satellite in outer space as some sort of suspicious nuclear activity. I spent the first 30 seconds surveying the room and eventually made my way to the couch, sitting dead center. Oh, the pathetic rear ends that have inhabited that seat in the past. Without any rhythm to the music ('Lady' by Modjo was playing), Lacey Michelle Gellar ripped off her top and straddled me without hesitation. Something told me (my boner) that I was in for some real Very Important Person treatment. A few minutes of deep, passionate kissing led to over-the-pants stroking, which led to under-the-pants stroking, which led to her advising me via hand motions to pull my shorts down, which led to her applying a conctraceptive to my member, which led to her riding on top of me. About one minute in, the bouncer busted in through the curtain and looked me right in the eye. Then right at her. Then right back at me. She jumped right off, screaming in shock and embarrassment, and ran out of the room. By then the entire staff, a few of the patrons, and all of my friends were peering into the room; all they saw was my terrified mid-orgasm face and my member pointed upwards to the sky like a totem pole. I was so ready to burst that the slightest breeze in my general direction would've made me explode like Eyjafjallajokull (you know, that volcano in Iceland). I carefully removed the condom in front of them all and pulled my boxers up very slowly, careful not to agitate myself, and walked out of the VIP room like I was just caught masturbating by my parents; I hadn't realized that I was revealing my member in its most sensitive and camera-shy state to dozens of strangers and my friends. Upon entering the main room, I saw Lacey Michelle Gellar talking to an older woman, presumably Carol of Cabarat Carol, and just one look from her made me go Mt. Vesuvius in my pants. Thing is, I was wearing boxers, and above that I was wearing Jordan shorts. They're kinda baggy.

I looked down and noticed driplets of 'myself', and in my embarrassment, I smeared them with my feet with a look of defeat in my face - imagine the sad face of a dog eating his own poop. I took one look at the 6'5" 310 lb. bouncer, one look at my friend, who had this frozen, astonished look (the look you'd have if you saw your friends erect penis), one final look at Lacey Michelle Gellar, and booked it out of club. Back at the hotel, I gave my friends a rough play-by-play while scrubbing the soles of my kicks (Air Max 95s), thinking they got the same treatment from their ladies of the night as I did from mine, but it turned out the value of the five extra dollars they spent wasn't anywhere close to the "bang" for buck I got. I was too embarrassed to go back to that strip club throughout the remainder of the trip, but every night after, at least two of my friends did. None reported their own special stories, but what made me feel a bit guilty was that they didn't spot Lacey Michelle Gellar in any of the following nights. Did she get fired? Suspended? Who knows. For about a month after the trip, I visited the Cabaret Carol website religiously to discover her identity, but my efforts were all for naught. Never found out her name nor will I ever, but I will remember her and that night for as long as I shall live.

this is the most well written post in this thread yet and brought the lulz. at slightest breeze