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First Night As a Male Stripper

a story of cfnm (clothed female, nude male)
I worked a variety of on-campus jobs to pay my way through college, but the money didn’t even pay for my books, much less spending money. So when a local ladies’ club put out an ad for dancers, I jumped all over it. I’m not much of a dancer, but for these clubs, you don’t need to be. You need a strong muscular body, the confidence to strip down to your briefs, and the ability to move to really crappy music.

Fittingly, the Ladies’ Night club was owned by two women, one in her 30s, the other probably around 40. When I went over to the club to meet with them, I noticed that the place was almost perfectly clean. The stage was on the far wall, and long bars flanked either side of it. The rest of the room was filled with tables of various sizes. Impressive, I thought to myself. One of the owners stood behind the left bar, the other behind the right bar. Both seemed to be taking inventory of their alcohol.

“Excuse me,” I called, “I’m looking for Brenda or Shari.” Both ladies turned toward me. I continued, “I’m Sean Gilliam, and I’m here for the dancer job.”

The older of the ladies walked out from behind her bar. “Hi,” she said rather matter-of-factly. “I’m Brenda. That’s Shari,” she pointed to the other bar. I turned toward the other bar. Shari said nothing, but waved and winked. She too worked her way from around the bar.

Both women were attractive. Brenda was slender and short, with shoulder-length light brown hair that was tied back. Shari was taller, bustier, and curvier, with short dark hair and a wide smile. Both wore jeans and polo shirts. Shari invited me to sit down at a small table.

Brenda asked the first question. “Why do you want to be a stripper?”

“To be honest, I need the money for tuition,” I answered.

“What year are you?”

“I’m a junior.”

“So you’re 21?” asked Brenda

“Not yet.”

“No alcohol, period. Working late nights won’t affect your schoolwork?”

“If it’s possible, I’d like to only work weekends. That way it won’t interfere at all.”

Brenda looked at Shari, who said, “Well, obviously Friday and Saturday are our busiest nights, so that should work out. Do you have a problem with nudity?”

“Mine or yours?” I joked.

Brenda rolled her eyes while Shari forced a laugh. By this point in the interview, it was clear that Brenda was the brains of the business, while Shari was the heart and soul.

“No, I don’t have a problem being naked,” I said finally. “I have a question. What can you tell me about your clientele?”

Shari answered, “Most of the women we attract are under 30, although sometimes we get some older women. We get a lot of birthday and bachelorette parties. It can get wild sometimes. Anything else?”

I shook my head no.

“Okay. So let’s see what you got,” Shari said.

“Here? Now?”

“Is that a problem?” asked Brenda.

“No, it’s just that, uh, there’s no music.”

“Improvise,” Shari suggested.

I removed my shoes and socks. Then I slowly unbuttoned my shirt while moving to the music inside my head.

“Not bad,” said Shari.

“Not bad at all,” replied Brenda. “Now the pants.”

I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants while swaying my hips. As I let them fall to the floor, I noticed a look of disapproval in Brenda’s face. “Our customers don’t like boxers. They like briefs, the smaller the better.”

“I don’t think I own any briefs.” I was worried if that would cost me the job.

Shari asked, “What size are you, 34?” I nodded. “I think we have something in that size in the dressing room. Now lose the boxers.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, shocked by the demand.

Brenda interrupted, “Look, do you want the job or not?”

I shrugged and dropped my boxers. I never really thought about the size of my penis until this moment. Both ladies sat there agape. Shari made a move toward me, but Brenda held her back. I decided to break the silence. “You like what you see?”

“You’re hired!” they shouted in unison.

I had to arrive to my first shift at 5pm that Friday night for Ladies’ Night’s weekly happy hour. There was a small buffet set up near each bar. Wait staff were bustling about setting up, removing chairs from table tops, and moving plates and silverware all to the buffet areas. The bottles of each bar were lined up like soldiers. Shari greeted me, “Hi Sean. Welcome aboard. Let me take you around.”

She walked me back to the changing area. There was a bathrobe and a men’s g-string … thing hanging from a hook. “What the hell is this?”

“You’re supposed to wear that and the bathrobe and that’s it.”

“That doesn’t look very comfortable. It looks painful.”

“Our patrons don’t care about your comfort. They want to be excited, and this excites them.”

“Can I just wear the bathrobe?”

“Only if you plan to get totally naked.”

“Doesn’t bother me at all. After I stripped for you and Brenda this week, I thought we were supposed to get totally naked anyway.”

“Alright,” she said in a warning tone. I wondered why she used that tone, but I would soon find out. “You’re welcome to eat and drink, but no alcohol. As of now, you’re on duty. And underage.”

“Okay, thank you.” I think.

I admit I was a bit nervous before I went on stage. but I couldn't drink to relax my nerves. There were probably about a hundred women there, all of whom were screaming and grabbing at the strippers. This seems to be an easy crowd to please, I thought, and that thought relaxed me. When a dancer was finished, he would strut down into the crowd, and the next dancer would take his place.

Finally, it was my turn to perform. Some crappy disco song was blasting, so I did my best to tolerate it and dance to it. After a minute, I slowly removed the bathrobe. When I did, the women screamed louder and more excitedly than before. Since spotlights were on me, I couldn’t really see what was going on in the crowd, so I didn’t see the woman who jumped on the stage and grabbed my dick until it was too late.

This blonde was wearing a hot pink long-sleeve T-shirt and knee-length shorts. She had a very tight body, with a wee bit of fat in the mid-section. Her pants hugged her ass perfectly. She turned her back to me and rubbed her plump ass against my hardening dick. After a minute of that, she turned around and rubbed her pussy against me. The song mercifully ended, but this woman wasn’t done with me. She took me by the hand and dragged me to where she and her friends were standing and drinking. The chick smelled like she had been drinking all day. She shouted above the music, “This is Becca! It’s her birthday!”

Becca was a slight woman, about five feet tall and barely 110 pounds. She wore a cotton miniskirt and a baby-blue V-neck shirt. Becca immediately dropped to her knees and began sucking my dick. She stopped for a second and raised her arms. The blonde who had grabbed me lifted her shirt over her head. She continued to blow me, then stopped abruptly. Becca stood up, turned her back to me, and bent over, revealing her slim ass and, to my pleasure and amazement, no underwear. I stuck my dick into her and pumped her from behind. I unfastened her bra and handed it to the nameless blonde.

Becca stood up and laid face-up on a table. I lifted her skirt to her waist. She lifted her legs to my shoulders. I stuck my dick into her pussy slowly to tease her a little bit. She had an expression of absolute desire on her face. As I felt her getting wetter, her moans and screams were drowned out by the crappy music. By now, the blonde had leaned over and started sucking Becca’s perky tits. As I pounded away, one of the other dancers came over to high-five me. Becca must have had at least two full orgasms by now, and I felt like I was going to explode. When I pulled out of Becca, she sat up. After only a few strokes, I came all over here face. The nameless blonde licked the cum off her face, then shared it with Becca letting a stream of saliva and semen drip into Becca’s mouth.

I collapsed in the nearest chair. Becca must have been satisfied because she pulled fifty bucks from her purse. I just got paid to have sex, and I get to do it again next weekend, I thought, and just smiled.

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