Posts Tagged ‘strippers’


Before Christmas, we got the house a 360. It’s been bloody good fun, but Jack’s addiction to massive role-playing games is pretty obscene.




Please welcome Nikki into the GUMO family! She works with me at the store and she’s an absolute treasure. We’ll be seeing a lot more of Nikki in the coming months, methinks…

On another note, I hope you enjoyed last week’s experiment. It was a fun challenge to put together and a good story to tell. We also passed three landmarks: numbers 69 and 70, as well as my 100th post on this blog thing. Good stuff all round. More experiments in future? If you liked that one, maybe I’ll think up some others.



This is what he was doing while I was terrified out of my mind in a booth. Sly fox.



All in all, we had a simply smashing time and cannot wait to repeat the experience in the new year. The reason for this delay is that, while definitely worthwhile, the world of gentlemen’s clubs is very expensive. Our total spend for the night was close to £180.

And we regret nothing. I must urge you to visit such an establishment as soon as possible. There really is nothing like it.



The private booth was very small and dimly lit. One small yellow bulb provided enough light to see the dancers in something approaching natural colours. The booth itself was wide enough for the dancers to move around with grace and ease, but small enough to place hands and feet on the walls without losing balance or stride.

The speakers in the booth continued to play the music that was pumped throughout the venue, allowing the dancer to time her movements to the song. (It was especially good if you were familiar with the song!)

There was a comfortable padded leather bench for seating. I awkwardly took a perch on the edge and said to Kira, “So… um, what do I do?” She instructed me to sit with my back to the wall and to place my hands out at my sides. I obliged. She then requested that my legs be parted for the experience. After three attempts of opening my legs wider, I finally got the correct space.

“And now wha-” I began. I say ‘began’, dear fellow, because before I could finish the sentence, Kira had started her dance and thrust her heaving breasts directly into my face.

As nervous as I had been before – rambling on in an Edwardian dialect – this was something else. Something entirely new. In pure terror, I slammed my mouth shut and stared straight forward.

Her skin was absolutely incredible, a body lotion smelling lightly of coconut that made the dance moves slide so, so gently across one’s face as if they were velvet. So soft. So wonderful. Indescribable.

As enjoyable as this was, I had several thoughts running through my mind, all fighting for attention at once. The bouncer’s words echoed, growing steadily louder and more infuriating: NO TOUCHING OF THE GIRLS.

As Kira took her clothes off and continued to dance in nothing but a pair of dangerously high stilettos – dangerous because I always worried about their ability to pierce flesh when placed upon my thigh – it suddenly dawned upon me that I could not interact with this beautiful Latino woman in any way. She raised her leg and rested it against the wall behind my head, moving her womanly parts mere inches from my face. The words grew louder. NO TOUCHING OF THE GIRLS.

All I had to do was extend my tongue, or sneeze, move forward in some way, and I would be face-deep in Heaven County, population: Me.

However, the words echoed on forever in my mind and sheer terror froze me to my spot. The song finished. Kira kissed me on the cheek and thank me. I thanked her back and left the booth, deeply shaken but utterly grateful.



With the private booths all occupied, Kira and I took seats while waiting. Conversation was made – she was very at ease with the art of interrogation. The same cannot be said for myself, so terrified at the prospect of what might lay beyond the heavy black curtain hanging over the entrance to the booth that I could only speak in stilted Edwardian tones.

The conversation took a turn as I accidentally insulted her and had to be comforted. Awkward and slightly soul-crushing as it was, the moment was swept quickly aside by a booth becoming available.

Taking me by the hand, Kira led me inside the chamber of woman.



Jack returned from his private dance bearing a smile the size of a small country. When pressed for details, he would only inform me of his rather excited reaction to a particularly erotic encounter he experienced. With this in mind, he encouraged me whole-heartedly to get “my head in the game” and receive my own private dance. Kira returned to our corner and soon propositioned me. I could not turn down a second opportunity.



Unfortunately, I must confess to being incredibly tense and nervous at such an encounter. I chose to notice the little details – the size of the arms of the bouncers positioned around the club, the way the men never locked eyes with a gentleman they weren’t familiar with, the fact that the club, as a whole, felt so much more honest than a regular dancing club. One supposes that this is because there is no pretense in a gentleman’s club. The men gather for one reason, and the ladies are on hand to provide such entertainment.



The club was small, as mentioned, but it was positively teeming with life. Many gentlemen stood around at the bar or sat down in the few available seats. The bar was not that wide and quite long, pushing everyone together. A deep red light bathed the entire room, giving the area a passionate glow. A small stage with a pole and surrounded by mirrors was set up in one corner – this was occupied at intervals throughout the night. The men were all dressed smartly and appeared to be middle-aged bankers, armed with rolls of twenty pound notes and spending upwards of forty pounds for a round of beverages.

And of course there were many women present. All of whom seemed perfectly comfortable and at ease in their various states of undress. The ladies were each dressed after a particular male fantasy – a nurse, secretary, cowgirl, catgirl, pit stop girl, fetish nurse, the list swells – and were an absolute delight to chat to.

After a scant ten minutes observation of the surroundings, Jack and I were approached by our first woman, an incredibly polite and svelte dancer who said she was Kira. She had a hint of Latino blood in her, with wonderfully full lips and an incredible figure – the Latin blood certainly pays off in the back of the trouser department, dear fellow! Kira began conversing with us, establishing various details about our lives and finding out who we were. At this point it would seem that Jack and I swapped beings. I froze up and engaged in eye contact, determined not to lower my gaze for even a moment, while Jack began complementing both her outfit and her figure.



Fantastic, sir. We all love breasts, so it’s good to see them honoured like this.