Naughty Confessions of a Stripper

My very first day as a stripper…happened over a decade ago, but I remember it well.
Decision to try out the carrier path of an exotic dancer came to me easy, but on that very first day…the day I was actually going to do it…the day I would strip for money for the very first time…  On that first day, I wasn’t sure any more.  Was I doing the right thing?  Did I have what it took?  Would stripping change me?
I didn’t get much sleep the night before.  I tossed and turned in bed imagining the worst.
The main reason behind my decision was, no surprise, money.  The prospect of “easy cash” was just too tempting to resist, especially at a time when I really needed it.  But money wasn’t the only reason behind my decision.  There was also the intriguing prospect of adventure and glamour that I imagined came with this job.  Performing on stage like a star…wearing sequins and lace…drinking expensive wines…

There was also the long conversation with Yolanda.  Yolanda told me that everything was going to be all right and I believed her.
Yolanda was a close friend and an established dancer already, who knew the stripping world inside out.  I felt lucky to have an inside link into this business and a mentor — someone to guide me through the first days and weeks of my unconventional new carrier.
Yolanda was the most beautiful woman I ever met.
Her flawless facial features screamed “foxy coquette”, and her gorgeous body was the perfect balance between the feminine curve and the athletic finesse.  But there was more to this woman than just her looks.  There was something extremely enticing about Yolanda that went far beyond her physical beauty.  It is hard to pin point what that “something” exactly was.  Could have been the sexy way she swayed her hips when she walked…or maybe the seductive way she crossed her legs when she sat.  Not sure.
Whatever it was — it made Yolanda simply irresistible to the opposite sex and equipped her with a mystical power to seduce any man that walked the face of the Earth.  Any man at all.  Young, old, rich, poor, single, married, even a priest…she could have them all if she only wanted to.  Yolanda had the uncanny skill to shamelessly charm her helpless victims into the point of near-obsession.  She was the natural femme fatal.
On that very first day, I showed up at her place around six.  The plan was to relax for a bit before taking the Big Trip.  “Don’t worry, Hun,” she told me on the phone after I had mentioned my sleepless night.  “We’ll have a couple of glasses of wine and make sure you feel good and ready before we go.”
Our destination that night was a popular downtown strip club with a sensual name of Erotica.  Modern and upscale, the place attracted, and geared toward, the wealthier caliber of clientele.  Best way to describe Erotica’s typical customer was: very rich and very horny.  And expecting a lot more than just an old, boring lap dance out of his visit to the club.
With that in mind, Erotica hired dancers that fit a certain profile.  Young, thin and pretty were the obvious attributes, but there were other criteria as well.  Employing girls who were open minded, friendly and “loose” helped with the management’s vision of converting an ordinary strip club into the land of sexual fantasy, where naughty desires came true.
Others just called it the neighbourhood bordello.
Erotica had two areas designated for lap dancing activity.  There was the loft-like VIP area located on the upper level of the establishment that was led to by a circular, beautifully lit-up staircase.  A railed half-wall merged this upstairs space with the rest of the club, giving it a loft type of a feel.  Leaning against this half-wall, horny rich men used to sip on their overpriced Martinis while looking over the rail and down at the stage, where Erotica’s pretty girls sensually moved their naked bodies to music.
The upper-level VIP area was simply gorgeous.  One of the corners of the space nested a contemporary bar that featured high gloss counters and sleek, modern-looking bar stools.  Pink lighting accents soaked this space in the sea of pinkish shimmer (not to get too poetic).  Located near the railed half-wall was a lounge area furnished with expensive leather chairs and luxurious couches.  Everybody’s absolute favorite was the spectacular crystal chandelier.  Gracefully suspended from the ceiling, the chandelier filled the room with a romantic sparkle.  The ambiance was just unbelievable.
With lounging and socializing concentrated towards the front of the rail, the intimate entertainment by a lap dance, took place at the very back of the VIP — away from the rail and against the back wall — where a row of leather chairs (separated by sheets of heavy curtains) created about a dozen of semi-private lap dancing booths.
The back-of-the-wall experience combined with dimmer lighting and a calmer tone, gave this space a cosy-and-secluded type of a feel.  The type of dancing that went on against the back wall of the VIP was…only somewhat dirty.  It certainly was not the sort of activity that my mother would approve of, but as long as I stuck to certain personal rules, and as long as I didn’t cross certain personal lines, I was willing to give it a try.
Where I didn’t want to be was the Champagne Lounge.
Located the very back of the club, the so-called Champagne Lounge provided refuge from crowd and noise.  It nested a number of fully enclosed private booths reserved for a more intimate style of dancer-client encounter.  The steep entry fee into the Champagne Lounge guaranteed no interruption of any kind and — more importantly — ensured a quality service.  With dancing at the bottom of the list of services provided, a Champagne Lounge customer was sure to be entertained in a variety of other creative ways.  Very intimate ways.  Hand jobs, blow jobs, naughty erotic girl duets and more…anything went.  Satisfaction was guaranteed.
This was not a place for me, I thought back then.  I would never, ever, set my foot in the Champagne Lounge.  I would not perform dirty sexual acts for money.  I would not become a prostitute.  And that’s what I thought back then.

On that very first day, I had Yolanda with me to help me through my fears and my anxiety.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she told me.
I was in her living room, comfortably seated in one of her very cool designer chairs.  Her place was so tastefully decorated and so cozy.  I was starting to absorb the pleasant ambiance and beginning to feel myself relax.  Yolanda smiled at me warmly and poured me a glass of wine.  “I discovered this wine just last week,” she said.  “I think it’s my new favorite.”
Yolanda was passionate about wine.  The mission of her life — she often joked — was to drink and sample as many different types of wine as was humanly possible.  Yolanda was infatuated wine — is the best way to describe it.  She loved its taste, its smell, its color…what it did to her state of mind.  She tried to explain it to me a number of different occasions, but I’m not sure if I truly understood.

Yolanda liked to drink her wine too.  Drank lot of it, in fact.  Her dream was to one day open a little winery of her own.  “Somewhere in the beautiful mountains of Italy,” she used to say in a dreamy voice.  This was the reason she became a stripper and this was why she worked crazy hours at the club, she told me one time.  It was all to make her dream come true.

“I will throw erotic wine and sex parties at my winery, and you’re invited to all of them!”  She used to tell me in a sexy voice after drinking too much wine.
I didn’t know it that day, but I just was about to join Yolanda in a crazy wine and sex adventure that would completely change my world.  An adventure that would take the two of us unusual places and bring interesting people into our lives.  An adventure that — eventually — would lead us to a picturesque little village in Italy.  Funny how it all started with a glass of Yolanda’s brand new favorite wine on my first day as a stripper.

She was sitting across from me, sipping on her wine slowly, savoring it.  “Wine truly is the nectar of gods,” she said.

I tasted the wine and really liked it too.

“Wine and women have this very unique relationship,” she continued.  “There is this mystical quality about wine that has the power to magnify our feminine charms and to amplify our sexual appeal.  And, of course,  to turn us into dirty whores when we need to be whores.”

She let out a little giggle and continued.

“You become a different…a more sensual woman while under the spell of wine.  Wine is why I manage all right as a dancer.”
Manage all right as a dancer was the understatement of the century.  I was well aware of Yolanda’s reputation as one of the most sought-after exotic dancers in the area.

“To make top dollars at this job, you need to do more than simply dirty dance for a horny guy hiding a half-erection in his pants.  What you need is to use your charms to create a truly erotic experience.  Take your horny customer on a sexual adventure.  Transport him into another reality, let him escape the here and now.  Even if only for a while…let him fantasize, let him imagine, become his dream woman.  All while strategically transforming that half-erection in into a full-blown raging hard-on.  And that’s how you make the big bucks in this biz.”

“Hmm… not sure if I have enough of feminine charm to make erotic magic in a dirty strip club.”  I was doubting myself out loud.  Only Yolanda had that.
“Not to worry, Baby,” she smiled at me seductively.  “This is why Goddess of Sex Appeal gave us, dancers, wine.”  She dipped her index finger in her red wine and licked all around it with her tongue.  I felt something pull and twitch inside of me as I watched her do that.

“Here is how you do it.  Looking hot and feeling great, you strike a conversation with one of the Money Prospects sitting at Erotica’s fabulous bar, and you order yourself a glass of Australian Shiraz.  So it begins.  The first glass warms your heart and relaxes your body.  You start to giggle and flirt and suddenly realize that — while you weren’t paying any attention to it at all — your nipples have somehow turned pointy and hard.  You begin to feel moist down below and naughty thoughts start taking over your entire thought process.
Second glass, and your charms begin to magically hook and hypnotize.  Hungry for more than just a conversation, the horny Money Prospect at the bar takes you up that beautifully lid-up staircase and right to the back of the VIP area, where the erotic adventure begins.”

“Wow.”  I could only say, quite impressed with Yolanda’s poetic interpretation of what many would call dirty and sleazy.

“And what happens after the third glass?”

There was a hint of smile on Yolanda’s lips when she said, “That depends.”
I didn’t ask.

She suddenly stood up.  “Speaking of wine.  Let me refill our glasses.”
Wine was slowly working its wonderful magic on my body, and the stubborn knot I have felt in my stomach for most of the day was slowly loosening its grip.
“Here you go, Hun,” Yolanda handed me a fresh glass of wine.  “Have you picked a stage name yet?” she asked.

I did.  Searching my brain for the perfect stage name was one of the many things that kept me up last night.  “Ashley,” I told her.

We sat in a complete silence for a while.  Just sipped on our wine and smiled at each other for no particular reason.

You know what I’d like?”  She suddenly said interrupting our comfortable quiet time.

“No clue, what’s that?”

“I would like to meet Ashley.  In person and right now!”

I wasn’t sure what she meant.  “What do you mean ‘meet Ashley’?”

She winked at me.  “I would love to see you all dressed up and ready to work Erotica’s floor,” she said.

“Now?”

“Yes now!  Why don’t you change into your club outfit, put some make up on, and let me see the stripper version of you.  Introduce me to Ashley, please.”
“Sure, why not,” I said thinking to myself that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have an experienced exotic dancer evaluate my hope-to-be-sexy appearance ahead of my debut into the stripping career.

“All right then, why don’t you go into my bedroom and take your time.  Come out when you’re ready.

Everything I needed for tonight’s big adventure was inside a small duffel bag that I packed this morning.  Couple of different club outfits, make up, shoes, a towel…  I went to retrieve the bag from the back seat of my car, where I had left it.  Few minutes later, I was standing next to Yolanda’s enormous bed and in front of a full length mirror just next to it, slowly taking my clothes off.  Perhaps inspired Yolanda’s latest liquid favorite, I really liked what I saw reflecting back at me in the mirror.  Maybe I wasn’t as breathtaking as Yolanda, but I wasn’t bad at all.  I had nice legs, firm butt and big boobs with perky points for nipples that have been known to evoke instant erections.  I had a pretty face and wavy, shoulder-length blond hair.  I was going to do all right as a stripper.

I reached into the bag and fished out an outfit that I have (very thoughtfully) selected for tonight.  It was my secret weapon — a sexy black dress that simply drove men insane.  I wore it to a night club just a couple weeks ago and had two guys fight over which one of them would pay for my drink.

I put the dress on.  Found my high heels and put them on too.  I applied bright red lipstick and fluffed my hair.  I had one last glance in the mirror — I looked pretty hot.

“Here comes Ashley!”  I announced to Yolanda and attempted a seductive walk towards the middle of the living room, where she was waiting for me.  Not used to wearing high heels, I struggled with my balance and — if anything — looked clumsy and comedic.  Eventually though, I managed to cross the room without tripping or falling.  I stood in front of Yolanda, hands on my hips, and waited for her reaction.

She took her time examining me, then nodded her head in approval.  “You look amazing, ” she said.  “You really do.” She smiled at me.

“But now you need to learn how to use that sexy body of yours.  Looking good simply isn’t enough.”

“I thought wine was supposed take care of the rest,” I said joking.
She laughed.  “Wine won’t do it all, Baby.”

She pointed her finger toward one of the chairs.  “Sit down and let me give you a little demonstration.”

I sat in the chair and waited with anticipation, not sure what Yolanda had in store for me.  She took a long sip of her wine, slowly raised from her chair, and gracefully walked toward me.  I need to learn to walk like that, I remember thinking to myself at that moment.

I didn’t expect it — and was taken aback, when out of nowhere, Yolanda begun to sensually move her body to soft sounds of music quietly playing in the background.  Right in front of me and so close.  She was so gorgeous…  Didn’t matter that she was completely dressed — she was always full of sex appeal, clothes on or off.  And her body moved in this spiral, fluid sort of a way.  She was so feminine, so graceful, so desirable…  Why was I enjoying this so much?

I couldn’t believe the instant physical effect her seductive dance was having on my body — the lower part of it in particular.  I felt myself getting hotter and sweatier, and soon became aware of the fact that a substantial amount of sticky moisture has formed down below in between the lips of my vagina.  My body was reminding me of the fact that I was very…very horny.  No sex in four months was the main reason behind my desperate state.  I was simply starved for sex.  She needs to stop this right away or things are going to get really weird, I remember quietly thinking to myself…but I said nothing out loud at all.  So she continued on.
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She gracefully came into a kneeling position just inches in front of me and gently placed her hands on my knees for support.  Then slowly and seductively…Yolanda danced her head into my crotch area, her hair falling all over my lap.  Subtle back-and-forth movements of her head insinuated oral sex, which made the lips of my vagina tingle and itch with a desperate need of an orgasm.  I caught myself wondering what it would be like to kiss her on the lips, or to stick my fingers deeply into her delicious pussy.

Naughty thoughts were rapidly taking over my mind and there was no safeguarding against them.  Yolanda’s increasingly seductive ways were not making things any easier on me either.  A little while into her erotic dance, she suddenly raised her head and looked at me in a way that made me imagine…or hope…that she desired me in a sexual way.  She was still kneeling in front of me, but her upper body was in an upright position now, so close to me her breasts were softly rubbing against the skin of my legs — her nipples showing though the thin fabric of her shirt in a very provocative way.  I really liked being this close to her and I thought that she liked being close to me too.  But then — without a warning — she suddenly pulled away making me worry that perhaps this was the end of her erotic performance.

But it was not.  I quickly realized there was more to come, when Yolanda reached for the buttons of her shirt and started to slowly unbutton them one by one.  Before I could see it coming, her large breasts suddenly spilled out of her clothes and fell onto my lap making a quiet slapping sound in the process.  I just sat there stunned and surprised, starring at her breasts with indescribable lust and desire.  Two gorgeous sex objects just resting there in plain view, their warm flesh gently pressing against the skin of my sex-starved body.  I felt a wave of sexual desire pulse right through me…making me remember the horny state I was in.

“Make them hard,” Yolanda whispered to me.

I didn’t understand at first.

“Make hard…make what hard?”  I asked confused.

“Make my nipples nice and hard,” she said.

I brought my trembling hands forward and gently cupped Yolanda’s breasts.  Is this what she wanted?  Her breasts felt so warm and so soft to touch…  An urgent need has come over me to play with those breasts in a very naughty way, so I gripped them tightly and started to press them, squeeze them, knead them…  Rougher, harder, faster…  And the more I did it, the wetter I felt down below.
“My nipples have that…horny itch,” she whispered to me, her eyes closed now.  “Suck them till the itch goes away.”

Using the grip that I had around her breasts, I guided one of her nipples inside of my mouth.  She let out a quiet squeal of what I perceived as being pleasure and delight as I did that.  I started licking around her nipple in wide circles, but purposefully did not stimulate its very tip in any way at this time.  Wanting for the horny itch to grow so unbearable that it would make crazy with desire.
“Please suck my nipples harder, Baby…” she finally said, heavy breathing making her words barely coherent.

That’s all the encouragement I needed.  Without any further prompting, I started sucking on Yolanda’s nipple with passion and desire I didn’t know I had in me.  Softly and carefully at first, but the longer I did it, the harder I sucked — and the harder I sucked, the louder she moaned begging me to go on.  Didn’t take very long at all for Yolanda’s nipple to get insanely hard.  I felt the hardness of it with my tongue — task accomplished.

I let it slip out of my mouth and went for Yolanda’s other nipple — this one still in a soft-and-limp state of being.  I sucked on it with great pleasure, and felt it get very hard — very quick.  I wanted to spit it out of my mouth and proudly show Yolanda what I have done to it…but just couldn’t bare the thought of parting with it. Pure sexual greed was making me lick, suck and bite all around Yolanda’s hard nipple like a horny maniac, not giving a care about anything else in the world.

I felt an enormous pressure building deeply inside of me — pulling type of sensation in my lower abdomen area in and all around my clit.  I wanted so desperately for Yolanda to reach inside of my panties, touch between the lips of my pussy and relieve some of the sexual urgency I felt all over.

But she didn’t.  Instead, with a sudden gesture of her hand, she signaled for me to stop.  Confused, I let her nipple slide out of my mouth, loosened the grip around her breasts and reluctantly retracted my hands.  I was in a state of what I could only describe as a short-term paralysis — unable to move or speak.  All I could think was: why?  Why couldn’t I suck on Yolanda’s beautiful nipple just a little while longer?

She stood up and went to sit in a chair across from me.  Didn’t button up her shirt though.  Her perky breasts still out there for me to see…still pointing toward me…still glistening from the wet treatment my tongue has given them just seconds earlier.  As she reached towards the side table to retrieve her glass of wine, they bounced and jiggled.  Observing that caused for a wave of sexual heat to go right through me.

“I think I got you going there for a minute, didn’t I?”

I couldn’t answer right away, my eyes still fixated on her breasts, my poor brain still confused about the entire incident.  Was this just a game to her?
It took me a couple of minutes, but I finally regained my composure.  I cleared my throat.  “You did.  You’re very good.”

“Mission accomplished then,” she said.  “Ashley’s nice and horny for her first day working in a strip club full of testosterone and fat wallets.  Trust me…it’s a good thing.  Nothing attracts money like a horny-vibe from a pretty stripper.”
I wanted to tell Yolanda about the intense pressure inside of my stomach and the enormous fire around my clit — but I didn’t.  Instead, I raised from my chair and slowly made my way back into the bedroom, where I put my street clothes back on.  Just a few short minutes later I met up with her by the front door.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

I nodded my head to signal yes.

I didn’t realize it then — but as yellow taxi cab pulled up in front of Yolanda’s house, an exciting brand new chapter of my life was just about to unfold.