Sex with the South African Stripper [MF]

As published in [Dean’s Sexplorations:](https://deanssexplorations.tumblr.com/post/155156993647/sex-with-the-south-african-stripper)

I enjoy learning as much as I can about the world of sex in countries to which I travel. When my wife was just on the verge of giving me permission to play with others, she had given me carte blanche to go crazy at strip clubs, so at that time whenever I travelled somewhere exotic, I liked going to a strip club and checking out the scene. What happens there, what are the written (and unwritten) rules, how do the guests and dancers interact, how far do the strippers go, all that. I find it utterly fascinating.

About four years ago I had a single night to myself in Johannesburg, South Africa. I did a little research online, selected a strip club that seemed interesting, and got my hotel to arrange a taxi there.

I arrived probably between 10:30 and 11:00. The club was in a lively area of town. It was a fairly nice commercial area and it was the weekend so there was a reasonable number of people about. I paid the cover charge and was escorted to a table, well, a booth really, where I was instructed to sit and watch the activities. The dancers would come to me, and I was not to get up and mill about. Which was hugely different than just about anywhere else I’ve been, where you can typically seat yourself and – as is my wont – if you desire to sit at the stage and hand bills to the girls you’re welcome to do so.

Being the newcomer, I did as I was instructed and checked everything out. It was true that none of the other patrons was vacating their assigned tables, although I was a bit put out that my table was maybe halfway back and there were plenty of other tables closer to the front. In fact, there were plenty of empty seats at the stage. Oh well, I decided I’d just make the best of it.  

The stage show was actually disappointing, at least to someone weaned on strip clubs in the San Francisco Bay Area. The girls went through an entire song with their tops on, another song with their bottoms on, and only got nude literally just a matter of seconds before ending their set. I grumbled; between the seating and the show it was not shaping up to be the most titillating evening.

From time to time, a dancer would sit at your table and hit you up for a private dance in the back. One of the first girls to approach me was an absolutely beautiful young woman whose (stage) name was Brandy. She had perfect facial features; long, straight hair; compact little hips and a perfect round ass; and incredible young double-D breasts. And her dark chocolate skin went gorgeously with her barely-there orange bikini.

A quick word about race in South Africa. I’m certainly no expert on the matter, but having spent some time there my observation is that race is a huge deal – even moreso than in the U.S. And Brandy was the one and only black stripper in the entire establishment, which was interesting given that the population of South Africa is a good 76% black. Then again, nearly all the patrons were white so the club’s management probably was catering to its clientele – and apparently the white club-goers preferred to see white strippers do their thing than black or mixed-race strippers. In fact, later in the evening I saw her dancing for a table of black patrons – and she was the only stripper I saw visiting that table.

Anyway, Brandy was not only gorgeous, but she was sweet and charming as well and I was thoroughly enjoying chatting with her. I learned that she was 18 (!! – but I believe it; she didn’t look any younger than that), and that she lived a little outside Johannesburg with her family. The night was looking up.

At that point, two queen bee-type (white of course) girls approached the table, pointedly told Brandy the manager needed her, and plunked themselves down at my booth. Brandy obliged, crestfallen, and the two girls started hitting me up for their services. They told me we should get a limo and really do it up right – go clubbing to some of their favorite places, order the finest champagnes, and do the rest of the evening right. They even offered to bring another several girls into the mix. All this for a price of course. I don’t recall the exact amount they quoted me, but something like $2,000 for the whole thing sticks in my mind.

I wasn’t interested in any of that of course, and after a few minutes told them as much. They pouted, no doubt thinking this greying, late 40s/early 50s, American businessman could have been their meal ticket for the evening. But they were doubly taken aback when I asked them to return Brandy to me, at which they were obviously astonished and which they clearly did grudgingly. It was apparent from their body language that they didn’t consider that she was “right” for me.

When Brandy returned, we resumed our conversation, she talked me into a lap dance (one of the best I’ve ever had), and when we got back to the table I asked her when her shift ended and what was she doing afterward. I have a philosophy that fortune favors the bold, and while I’ve had the door slammed in my face plenty of times, I’ve also had a handful of amazing experiences as a result of putting myself out there. After all, if she says no, I’m no worse off, right?

Fortunately, that night turned out to be one of the wins. She agreed to see me later, but unfortunately the shift ended at 4:00 a.m., still about four hours away. I wasn’t keen on watching a mediocre strip show from halfway across the room for four hours. So we agreed that I would return to my hotel and she would meet me after her shift was over.

Back at the hotel, I got a few hours of sleep, only to be awakened by a call from the front desk. The reception clerk wanted to be sure that this scantily clad, young black woman was really expected up in my room; it seemed to be quite a scandal for this nice, business-oriented hotel. I told him it was fine and to send her up.

When I opened the door I once again beheld one of the most incredible specimens of young female beauty I can recall. She had an adorable smile and a body that just wouldn’t stop. Her street clothes consisted of a tiny little, skin-tight stretch fabric dress over that itty bitty orange bikini. The dress quickly came off, along with the bikini, to reveal the most perfect set of breasts and the tightest little ass I’ve ever seen. She even remarked how unusual her narrow hips and tight little booty were for an African woman. They were to die for.

She taught me some interesting things about sex in South Africa. I was taken aback by her level of sophistication in the bedroom, or lack thereof. She had been with her share of guys; she was not a virgin by any stretch, but (as she told me) in South Africa, women are not expected to take charge or play an active role in the bedroom. So she pretty much followed my lead across the board, completely taking my queue at what to do next. Much more than an American or European would have done.

We did our share of straight-up fucking, and I lingered over her perfect breasts. I couldn’t resist turning her over on her stomach to just enjoy her ass. Which she didn’t seem to know how to handle as she arched her back and couldn’t seem to lay comfortably. All very interesting to me, but the most memorable aspect was when I went down on her.

She had a beautiful, tight little pussy, and as my mouth got closer, it seemed to actually swell and quiver in anticipation. She was so worked up that even just kissing and licking her outer labial lips sent her into a frenzy, and by the time I got to her pussy and eventually her clitoris she had amazingly strong, convulsive orgasms.

After some more fucking we took a break to chat, and that’s when I found out why she went so gonzo over me going down on her. She said that South African men never – ever – go down on a woman. It’s considered unmanly and something no self-respecting South African male would ever do. They expect to receive blow jobs of course, but not to return the favor. That was the first time in her life she had experienced a man’s tongue on her lips and clit, and (therefore, I assume) the biggest orgasm she had experienced with a man.

She couldn’t believe that I did it at all, let alone voluntarily, or that I enjoyed the experience. I told her that where I came from, it was a pretty common practice and in fact going down on a woman gives me great pleasure. It was getting late, she had been there almost an hour and the sun was about to rise, but she begged me to do it one last time because she had no idea if or when she would get it again. Which I gladly obliged of course, and her second set of orgasms was just as strong as the first.

Every now and again I think of poor Brandy and what she – and millions of other South African women – are missing out on a regular basis. I think how lucky I was to experience her exquisite body for one amazing night, and I like to think maybe I too gave her a little gift. A special memory she can enjoy from time to time – and who knows, maybe even the inspiration to give herself a little extra pleasure, or even spread the word to a few daring, enlightened South African men.

At least I certainly hope so.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/cy5yxb/sex_with_the_south_african_stripper_mf