Several
of my male friends claim to like pussies, but based upon their actions,
I think they are pussies. Not one of these metrosexuals would accompany
me to the Summit Men’s Club lap-dance party down in Soho last Thursday night.
“We welcome single women,” Lou, the manager of the club told me, eyeing me up and down. He’s a short, stocky guy with a huge libido and an eye for beauty. The girls are students, actresses, models and dancers trying to earn a living.They were all pretty hot. I arrived with trepidation but found myself in a room buzzing with single men and a table of bachelorettes looking to party. The Summit Men’s Club is a weekly traveling party held in various swanky Manhattan restaurants and bars.They maintain a blog and a mailing list, but the address is only revealed right before the event.
The entrance fee is $40 and a lap dance costs $20 per song. “This is Tracy. Isn’t she gorgeous?” Lou asked, handing me a cold drink. She led me downstairs where a DJ was spinning sensual house music and five or six men were enjoying their own private dancers.Tracy began dancing, slowly tossed off her top and began rubbing against me.This was feeling pretty good. I’ll confess, I’ve been single for a while. My drug of choice is usually male, but I like to keep my options open. The electric charge from all that lap dancing, the buildup of the tingle, gives the girls an unbelievable afterglow.
“I always feel so sexy thanks to this job,” Brooke, another dancer, said. Although that night was slow, on a good night a girl can make anywhere from $200 to $800. Lilith, a thin Eurasian woman with black hair and perky breasts, writhed around on me. “Mmmmm, you smell so good,” she purred.
“You taste so good, too! Neutrogena oil?” Groping was welcomed. Although the dictum was no nipples or genitals, the girls were in the mood for whatever. Rachel, a long-limbed, small-waisted temptress, had dreamy dimensions: 5-foot-10 and firm but generous 38Ds. “You’re not wearing panties!” she exclaimed.
This put her in a good mood.
“We welcome single women,” Lou, the manager of the club told me, eyeing me up and down. He’s a short, stocky guy with a huge libido and an eye for beauty. The girls are students, actresses, models and dancers trying to earn a living.They were all pretty hot. I arrived with trepidation but found myself in a room buzzing with single men and a table of bachelorettes looking to party. The Summit Men’s Club is a weekly traveling party held in various swanky Manhattan restaurants and bars.They maintain a blog and a mailing list, but the address is only revealed right before the event.
The entrance fee is $40 and a lap dance costs $20 per song. “This is Tracy. Isn’t she gorgeous?” Lou asked, handing me a cold drink. She led me downstairs where a DJ was spinning sensual house music and five or six men were enjoying their own private dancers.Tracy began dancing, slowly tossed off her top and began rubbing against me.This was feeling pretty good. I’ll confess, I’ve been single for a while. My drug of choice is usually male, but I like to keep my options open. The electric charge from all that lap dancing, the buildup of the tingle, gives the girls an unbelievable afterglow.
“I always feel so sexy thanks to this job,” Brooke, another dancer, said. Although that night was slow, on a good night a girl can make anywhere from $200 to $800. Lilith, a thin Eurasian woman with black hair and perky breasts, writhed around on me. “Mmmmm, you smell so good,” she purred.
“You taste so good, too! Neutrogena oil?” Groping was welcomed. Although the dictum was no nipples or genitals, the girls were in the mood for whatever. Rachel, a long-limbed, small-waisted temptress, had dreamy dimensions: 5-foot-10 and firm but generous 38Ds. “You’re not wearing panties!” she exclaimed.
This put her in a good mood.
