I think everyone has a bucket list. Even if they don’t write it down, everyone has a series of things they want to do before they die. Of course, most people don’t complete most—if any—of their lists, but I didn’t want to be one of those people. So I actually sat myself down one day, wrote out my list, and started making plans to cross each and every one of them off.
Number one on my list? Dance on a stripper pole.
Now, any normal woman would’ve gone about it a completely different way. I could have headed to the nearest adult store and purchase one of those doorway pole fixtures. Or I could have taken a pole-dancing exercise class. But those options seemed like cop-outs. Dancing on a portable pole in my house would serve me no greater purpose than singing in the shower, and those classes were always filled with giggling women and instructors who told you just to do your best and that you were doing a great job, even as you cracked your knees on the floor when you collapsed from dizziness. No, I wanted to do it the right way.
So I went to the strip club nearest to my house, and boldly told the bartender I wanted to apply for a job.
It was just supposed to be an audition. I was supposed to take off my clothes, spin around the pole a few times, and stroll out of there feeling accomplished with one less bullet point on my list. But as I slipped out of the silky get-up I had adorned over my panties, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to do this right.
I started dancing. The owner, a devilishly handsome man with too much charm for his own good, watched me with pleased eyes. And, before I really understood what I was doing, I wason my knees in front of him, swaying with the music and undoing his pants. Evidently, it was an ordinary thing for this guy to be persuaded into making a hire with sexual deeds because he didn’t react as though what I was doing was anything unusual. Instead, he just stared at me, almost like he was appraising my ability.
I withdrew his cock and began stroking it, still swaying. It very large cock, nice and huge, and as I stroked it, I felt even sexier. I stroked his cock and moved with the music, and just watching that cock swell in my grip made me feel like leaning down. So I did.
I took his dick into my mouth. He was right next to the stage, and I knelt on the platform, leaning down to suck him. I was practically upside-down as I moved. He moaned immediately, and I felt his hands creep into my hair. From that point, he essentially took over. He began guiding me and directing me, using the leverage of my hair to instruct silently. He held my skull in his palm, and he moved me up and down the length of his shaft, really using me. Maybe it was the manner in which he handled me that turned me on so much, the way he made me feel like a toy meant to do his sexual bidding.
Number one on my list? Dance on a stripper pole.
Now, any normal woman would’ve gone about it a completely different way. I could have headed to the nearest adult store and purchase one of those doorway pole fixtures. Or I could have taken a pole-dancing exercise class. But those options seemed like cop-outs. Dancing on a portable pole in my house would serve me no greater purpose than singing in the shower, and those classes were always filled with giggling women and instructors who told you just to do your best and that you were doing a great job, even as you cracked your knees on the floor when you collapsed from dizziness. No, I wanted to do it the right way.
So I went to the strip club nearest to my house, and boldly told the bartender I wanted to apply for a job.
It was just supposed to be an audition. I was supposed to take off my clothes, spin around the pole a few times, and stroll out of there feeling accomplished with one less bullet point on my list. But as I slipped out of the silky get-up I had adorned over my panties, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to do this right.
I started dancing. The owner, a devilishly handsome man with too much charm for his own good, watched me with pleased eyes. And, before I really understood what I was doing, I wason my knees in front of him, swaying with the music and undoing his pants. Evidently, it was an ordinary thing for this guy to be persuaded into making a hire with sexual deeds because he didn’t react as though what I was doing was anything unusual. Instead, he just stared at me, almost like he was appraising my ability.
I withdrew his cock and began stroking it, still swaying. It very large cock, nice and huge, and as I stroked it, I felt even sexier. I stroked his cock and moved with the music, and just watching that cock swell in my grip made me feel like leaning down. So I did.
I took his dick into my mouth. He was right next to the stage, and I knelt on the platform, leaning down to suck him. I was practically upside-down as I moved. He moaned immediately, and I felt his hands creep into my hair. From that point, he essentially took over. He began guiding me and directing me, using the leverage of my hair to instruct silently. He held my skull in his palm, and he moved me up and down the length of his shaft, really using me. Maybe it was the manner in which he handled me that turned me on so much, the way he made me feel like a toy meant to do his sexual bidding.
