Strip VIP

At the strip club I looked into the eyes of some really fiery girls and saw their cute little souls kissing their fingers and blowing smoke up my young boy ass. Some had water souls; they were smooth and looked as if they could care for you in an opium den. Tattoos, but more importantly spots, were something to keep an eye out for: they have the potential to reveal a lot about a girl. Getting a tattoo is a big commitment. Spots are direct from God. You don’t get to see all the spots of girls wearing clothes, walking the streets of daily life. Here they are, completely everywhere.

We were given a bottle of champagne. It came in ice. Bianca was so sweet. She provided table service to us. Our VIP room was right next to her bar, the main bar.

There was so much more to the club than I had realized during all the times of delivering to them! An upstairs, back stairs, side rooms, private dance dens. The girls were not asking to give us private dances. They had their lingerie and eyelashes in a glass case up for sale. Jerome was my main man and Kirk was drunk. Jerome was wearing a bow tie which all the girls loved. He is gay, but he was good with the girls. We were really laying down our dollar bills accordingly and proportionately and with good class and style.

Pete was dishing it out between his gap tooth barrel of a mouth, rattling his light machine gun fire into the space between the girls breasts and right there between the panty strands, around the time of butthole thirty and a flirty pussy.

Tell you what, it just makes you want to lick it up. Walking up those stairs to find the bearded bouncer. He is bald and was talking it up to an entire room of tv watching people. They were laughing and he was in his element. Kirk kept ordering me Moscow Mules made with grey goose melon. He had been pregaming it. I think the girl upstairs, the bartender, may have said something to me, but it was around this time I started to black out. Was I dreaming that she feels jealous of Bianca? It must be true. Bianca is an all star. She gave me a card. Hard written with a pink pen. Her own hand. What a wonderful surprise. We used to talk and talk. Alissa, Pete’s girlfriend, told me that she thinks she has a crush on me. How wonderful. My heart beats and blood flows to my penis. The old cooch rises to take my affection. I’m totally phasing.

I bought a pack of cigarettes before the adventure. I wanted Camel Reds with a K but the place didn’t have them even though I thought they would because they’ve had them there before. I’ve got my dick out. I’m pissing. My cum comes a dribbling. I’ve got New York on the horizon. Hieronymous Bosch’s Hell hangs above the urinal. I am staring at the bleu bird in the courtyard.

Musette’s got a basket of fruit:

“I thought this was abundance,” she says, “but it turns out it is actually take what you can carry!”

I draw the card of Oshun from her ascended masters deck. It tells me to drink more water.

She draws Isis.

It talks about career and balance.

Look, I’m here, you can find me, you will know me; now you can see my soul.

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