**Introduction:** First, thank you so much for all the feedback from my first story! Wow! I was completely blown away by the comments, messages and DMs.
It wasn’t until recently, when talking to friends, that I realised I probably had some interesting stories. When drinking over Christmas, a female friend said ‘You should write a book’. When I asked why, she explained she doesn’t know anyone who’s had relationships like mine, and everyone else agreed. That was the surprise to me – that *everyone* agreed! I would have thought half, or surely at least some of my friends, would have similar entertaining experiences or stories. Apparently not, or it may just be that I am more comfortable sharing them (after attending acting school in my 20s and having done intimate scenes with basically strangers, talking about sex doesn’t really phase or shame me. We all do it, everyone’s into it, just be respectful.)
For background, I’m now 30, and in the last decade have dated a stripper and two OnlyFans girls (one of whom became successful enough to buy a two-bed in London!) amidst other, general, dating, sex and dating-app stories. Now, I know dating a stripper or OF girl is a “dream” for some but I was surprised at how interested everyone was – including other girls.
Now I doubt writing a book is ever on the cards, so for now, I’ll be posting to Reddit for fun. Hopefully you all enjoy these :)
Anyway, all that said, here’s my next story. This is a different style from the last, to tide over until the next full-on naughty one. It’s got a lot more background/description and a bit more humor but the background I think is important to the short, but intense, hot pay off at the end. Not everything is going to be threesomes or crazy times the whole story, but sometimes, the build-up makes the pay off more intense! As always, everything is 100% true to the best of my recollection.
**Context:** I’m around 25 at the time. This was around one month into my relationship with an ex who was a stripper (a title neither she nor I had any shame of). We’ll call her Emily.
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‘Who is that?’ I asked. Emily looked up. ‘Oh that’s Anne – that’s my best mate!’
Cue girly screaming and hugs as Anne came into Emily’s flat.
Now, here’s the thing, I knew who Anne was – or more accurately, I knew what she did – because a week before I’d gotten with Emily, Anne had given me a nude, and pretty amazing, lap dance. Now I was meeting her for the first time outside of her work.
Cut back several weeks: it’s a friend’s birthday. It’s a Sunday night and several of us have booked the Monday off work. What was meant to be a pretty chill evening suddenly becomes anything but when a friend who originally couldn’t make it shows – and he is a party animal. You hear that phrase a lot, but this guy really was. He’s the kind of friend you rarely saw before midday, and even less without a buzz of some sort.
Needless to say, we soon go out, and at the party’s encouragement, we end up in a strip club (after the cab driver was genuinely stuck where to take us that would be open midnight on a Sunday of all days – but we found one!)
Now, I’m not really a fan of strip clubs, and to date, this is my first, and only one of three times ever, in one. I think because I’ve “seen the other side” so to speak, the illusion doesn’t hold a lot of sway for me. It’s just work, and the girls are very beautiful, but it’s just a job. I’d much rather meet someone outside where we can have a genuine conversation and not have it underscored by a transaction.
To be clear – I dated a stripper. I respect the hustle. I admire the fucking hard work it takes. The job doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I just don’t enjoy the venues, in the same way I prefer bars to a night club.
Back to the story: we’re drinking overpriced beer but we’re at least having a laugh. It’s Sunday night, not exactly what you’d call peak strip club hours. There are two groups of us here. One group is some business exec looking types, guys in their late 30s-60s, and us. Now I can’t be sure, but it didn’t look like the other guys were spending much. As they were the only group in there, they had pretty much all the girls around them, and I think they were using the empty club (as you’d expect on a Sunday night) as leverage because they were pretty handsy and the first trip to the bar I heard words similar to ‘you gotta earn that dance’ or something from guy to the girl, which I took as “I want sexy stuff for free now and I might pay you for a dance later if you’re lucky”. Pro tip 1 – don’t be like this. The girls are there to work. Pay them or don’t go in the first place.
Anyway, we get a round in. We’re laughing. We’re having fun. The party animal is loving this and buying rounds for everyone – he has a pretty lucrative job, and part of the reason he’s a party animal is how high-pressure it is, so he really cuts loose on a weekend – and within about 30 minutes we’re pretty much surrounded by all the girls. First, one comes over, has a drink bought for her, then another, then another etc.
The ironic thing of all this is the birthday mate got lambasted by a dancer. He’s a pretty chill guy, and we’re only really in the club because party animal pushed for it. So birthday mate is chatting to a dancer, and after a while, she asks ‘So, we getting a dance or not?’ and he replies, ‘Sorry not, I thought we were just talking?’. The dancer then proceeded to let him know, in no uncertain terms, strip-club etiquette and exactly what she thought of a guy she’s just wasted a good while talking to who isn’t paying for a dance.
We were absolutely dying with laughter seeing our mate getting bollocked by a stripper – who was definitely in the right I later learned – so we all chip in and buy him some expensive one which immediately makes the angry dancer start laughing at just the whole ridiculous thing.
When the girls realised we were new to all this then, they were much more accommodating. Pro tip 2 – be honest and open. Dancers can smell BS and ‘fake-ballers’ a mile off.
Luckily for me that happened to my mate first because I had zero intentions of getting a dance either, so anytime a girl spoke to me, I’d politely say I’m happy to talk but not looking for anything which immediately let them know not to waste time, which I understood later (from my then-gf and her friend) that’s a good thing to do.
The point of all this is I’m chatting to one girl and she is absolutely gorgeous. She’s got a killer body, a genuine hourglass figure with a great chest, slim waist, big hips and a gorgeous ass, and the longest dark hair I’ve ever seen in my life that goes all the way down to her waist. I’ll never forget these blue bikini bottoms she had on that said “juicy”. Yup, Juicy. Now, I’ve said I’ve no interest in getting a dance, but the girl – who you’ve probably guessed by now was Anne – and I were having such a good laugh, and had zero expectations of any financial gain, that I started to feel pretty comfortable with her, and knowing we were going to leave soon I thought, sod it, it’s my first time in a strip club, not sure I’ll ever come back, might as well get one.
Anne – obviously she had given me a different name that night – was more than happy with this so we finished our drinks and she took me to a second part of the club where there’s the backrooms, a card machine and a menu. You pick what you want, so the dancer and the person taking the cash are on the same page, you pay, and she leads you downstairs to the private rooms.
I ask Anne what she recommends. She smirks and immediately points to the most expensive offering, a £300 hour-long private dance “In the VIP” with a bottle of champagne. I laugh and make the exact same face back at her and immediately gesture – to make a point – to the cheapest option: 10 minute lapdance.
Now this is one of the times in my life where I learned how much confidence and connection plays in attraction – it cannot be overstated. Me pointing to the cheapest option could have made me look like an absolute cheapskate, but because we were having playful flirtiness, I was making point the exact same as she had, and we’d had good banter, we go back and forth on it. It’s not really about the money, we’re having fun like ‘oh worth it are you?’ But both ways, because she knows full well I’m going to buy something. Again, confidence, confidence, confidence. So I say, lets start with the £20 and see where it goes – let’s just have fun. She agrees.
We pay and walk downstairs and Anne is now in full dancer-mode because she starts swaying her hips walking down the stairs and I cannot take my eyes off her “juicy” bikini bottoms, which is how I remember it so many years later. “Holy fuck” I think. “This is actually happening”. Remember – I’d never had a lapdance before, and never from one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen in my life, a genuine playboy looking model.
In the UK, for my international friends, you can’t touch the dancers. Anne starts dancing and I realise sensuality is a skill, and she’s extremely good at it. This is an art form she has honed. The bikini is teased off and she grinds onto my lap one way throwing head back over my shoulder, then the other. She moves to the sides in fluid motions that always leads into another move that keeps the dancing going, the grinds becoming more intense with less time between each. At one point she slowly stands, legs either side of me sitting, and looks down at me as she pushes her pussy a couple of inches from my face and opens it, before turning around and sliding down me again. Her incredibly cleavage shes rubbing against me and sliding my face between her breasts as she takes my hands and slowly slides them along her legs, but no more.
Then the dance is over. Im breathless. I mean, I thought she was sexy and knew it’d be fun – but my mind is blown. I’ve never experienced anything like that. So I ask, ‘Another?’. Anne laughs and nods, seeing my expression as if to say ‘I knew you would! Told ya!’ kind of attitude. And she was completely right.
I forget what exactly, but buy one of the more mid-expensive offers and it’s the same again, but better, because it’s longer. At one point I remember saying ‘fuck, I’d love to feel you’ and she replies, ‘What do you want to feel?’. My not-exactly-Casanova tongue responds ‘those tits’ with all the grace and subtly of a brick, but I’m not exactly focused on being suave. Anne responds, knowingly, ‘Can’t touch the dancers babe…’ but gives me a look, and getting on me, takes her breasts in her hands and runs her nipples along my lips and it might have been the hottest thing I’d ever experienced until that point in my life, right up until a few moments later when she presses one breast into my mouth fully, and then the other. One hand runs down my hair and back of my head, and encourages me to enjoy it, before swapping to the other.
It probably only lasted twenty seconds, but it felt forever given how in-the-moment I was.
The dance ends, the guys are leaving, we all say bye, and I don’t expect to see Anne again but I’m sure as hell thinking of her for a while!
Then, back to the night of the party: Anne walks into my girlfriends flat. I like my girlfriend very much. This is the first night I’m meeting some of her friends. A few have already arrived. I want to make a good impression.
My girlfriend is a stripper. How the hell is she going to respond when she finds out her best friend gave me a dance – a pretty intense one too – only weeks before? My girl knows I went to a strip club, we spoke about it when she told me her job, and she’s absolutely cool with it – but getting a dance off her friend I think is something else. Her best friend, no less.
Fuck, I think. Fuck me. Of all the nights too, meeting her friends for the first time.
Anne comes in, says hello and introduces herself, and joins the girls.
I say to Emily, hey, we need to speak. We go into the kitchen, behind the counter. It’s open plan kitchen-lounge, but big enough that you can talk quietly in the kitchen. Emily can see the look on my face and is immediately concerned. I’m not hiding my shock or fear. I’m genuinely worried for her reaction, and while I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong because this happened before we were together, I am concerned that I don’t want to hurt her and I can’t sit there pretending all night. I want to tell her now and intend to offer to leave so it’s not awkward.
Emily asks what’s up. I tell her the truth. ‘Emily, remember I went to a strip club for the first time a few weeks ago? She nods and her eyes narrow. Fuck I think. Fuck, this is bad. I continue in a low voice, ‘Well, the girl I got the dance off, it was Anne’.
There’s silence for a moment. Emily’s eyes have narrowed further as she processes the information.
She bursts out laughing.
‘You’re kidding me,’ she says. ‘No, I’m really not’ I reply, shellshocked.
The girls all turn to us. Emily is genuinely laughing now, and shouts ‘Anne!’ Anne gets up and replies, ‘what?’. Emily, in front of everyone, all four mates, just yells, ‘You gave my boyfriend a dance a few weeks ago!’, the words absolutely laced with venomous humour.
Anne says ‘What?!’ and comes over. She looks at me and says ‘I thought I recognised you! I wasn’t sure’ and they’re all pissing themselves laughing. Every. Single One.
The girls thought it was the funniest thing ever, and my expression of absolute horror turning to relief was priceless for them. That gif, “they had us in the first half, not gonna lie?” was me. When Emily narrowed her eyes I thought it was out of anger or hurt, not confusion. She’s completely chill with it. Anne’s a dancer, she explains. I got a dance and I was single. What’s the issue?
When she put it like that, I couldn’t argue.
It goes to show how it is just a job for them. A sexy job, sure, and they definitely have fun sometimes – hell, I learned so much from those girls about stripping and sex and dating and all sorts – but they’re professionals. It’s what they do. I was a customer, a nice one apparently (I hoped Anne wasn’t just saying that) but that’s it, a customer. Like serving someone in a Starbucks.
I’d build the whole thing up in my head and while Anne was incredible naked, and I would have jumped at the chance to get with her, that’s all it was – some fun dance, a little naughty fun with the whole tits-in-mouth, but nothing more.
The night went on like that, and I really did have fun with the girls. Emily was still laughing at different points in the night and the whole thing really helped break the ice.
At one point, Emily, very much in teasing mode, made fun how I’d reacted and I laughed it up saying come on, this is all new to me. She asked if I wanted another dance off Anne, and my expression gave it all away before I could even say anything.
‘Go on Anne, show us what you did’ was Emily’s words, and Anne obliged. I’m lost for words as she finishes her wine, climbs over and grinds me a bit, doing what is clearly her routine with the throwing-head back, but this time she’s fully clothed. Yet, given this is in front of my girlfriend, feels incredibly taboo and yet just as hot as it was 121. She does this for a minute or so, just some fun, but I can’t like it was still amazing for me. For them, it was just naughty fun – this is what they did for a living. Their bodies are their work.
That night, Emily and I had incredible sex. Already worked up from Anne, and coupled with the relief, it was intense as it comes. I genuinely wasn’t thinking of Anne – Emily had been so cool, even down to the “give me a quick dance Anne” attitude – that I was so attracted to this pint-drinking girl who had the same humour and attitude as myself.
To end this longer story, Anne actually went on to do so well for herself, given her looks and cool personality. She wasn’t just some bimbo, but a genuinely gorgeous intelligent girl who used stripping to fund other things. She did a lot of modelling, some stuff for Playboy online and had her own site for a bit before earning her money and settling down. Now she works in PR.
Hope you enjoyed the story. Again, more of a longer one with tangents and hopefully some humour here, but still a sexy time and fun ending!
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/100hp8g/my_stripper_gfs_best_friend_gave_me_a_lapdance_in