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LINKS
HOT LINKS     |
14/01/2023
It had been over two years since I’d had sex, and over a year since I’d decided I had to finally leave my second ex-wife.
My nights were full of regrets, memories, and dreams that would often keep me up for hours. My days were spent just going through the motions, without my former passion for life.
I have always been a passionate and giving lover; more focused on my partner than my own orgasms. That, and my ADHD brain led to many a cumless encounter.
But I’ve never cared. I just enjoy being touched and touching in return. I’ve always yearned to be more adventurous in my sex life, but my partners weren’t as assertive. But they were always satisfied by me when we would join.
All of this is to say that when I allowed my best (gay) friend to drag me to the local strip club for a friend’s birthday celebration the other day, I had no expectations. I was our DD, so I just had an Angry Fireball to drink.
My friend and I sat in the second row back from the main dance floor, in a darkened corner. I was fascinated by this new experience. Believe it or not, I’d only been to one other strip club, and it had been over 20 years.
As we sat down, a dancer was finishing her act on the large stage, with a pole in the center, and a recessed ceiling above filled with mirrors and lights. The dancers here started dressed and finished nude, which was a pleasant surprise. Initially, my ADHD mind filled with countless wondering.
What’s the protocol? Do you tip each dancer? When and how do you pay them? How does one “make it rain” and what prompts this? You know, stupid newb musings like that.
The next dancer took the stage, and I was immediately interested. I’d seen most of the other dancers walking about on the floor, but none had piqued my interest.
Mariah was different. She wore clear high heals, came out in a flowing gossamer robe, with a tiny bikini beneath, and horn-rimmed bejeweled glasses on her face. She was slender, had modest breasts, a nice ass, a shaved pussy, medium length blonde hair, and an impish smile.
I could tell right away that she was a talented dancer. She flowed from place to place across the stage with smooth grace. Unlike the previous dancer, her form was more elegant and sensual, instead of raw and sexy. She used the pole a great deal, and I began to imagine my swiftly hard cock was that pole, as she effortlessly slid up and down it.
She danced for two songs, and before I knew it, she was done, and sweeping up piles of money. As she exited the stage, I realized that I had done nothing to show my appreciation!
I settled in for the next dance, wondering what was next, but it was not as exciting. I sensed a presence to my right and turned to see Mariah standing about a foot away from me, leaning against the alcove I was in, watching the next dancer, wearing her bikini again.
We were both silently watching for a few moments, until I took a drink from my cider and she seemed to notice me for the first time. She greeted me warmly with a hand on my shoulder, saying that she hadn’t seen me back there. She moved in behind me, starting a back and shoulder rub that sent my head spinning, as we chatted comfortably about various subjects.
I awkwardly said that I’d neglected to give her a tip, praising her last dance. I reached in my wallet and gave her a $20.
She was kind and gentle, and gave me her full attention. I’m inwardly a confident person, once I get over all of my distractions, like my looks, my weight, my lousy love life, and my lack of opportunities like this.
I succeeded in mostly not making a fool of myself, and silently hoped she didn’t pick up on my nerves. After a while, she offered smoothly to give me a lap dance for $40. I don’t have much money after my expenses, but I happened to have $100 in my pocket.
I told her I would be delighted and headed for the bar to make change. She cuddled me from behind while we waited for change and it felt great. She led me to a back room full of comfy couches, where we were alone (it was a quiet night). We continued talking for a bit while she got me into position in the middle of a couch, removed my glasses and my hat, and mounted me with incredibly smooth legs on either side of me.
The next twenty minutes or so (who knows), we spent intimately. We would occasionally talk softly, me offering inane comments about her beauty, her glasses, her heels, her bikini, and her kindness, offering way too many thanks for everything she was doing.
She asked me about myself, what I liked, what I did for work, like that. The conversations seemed natural and easy.
I quickly learned what a different sort of experience this would be for me, as I could not touch her, just be touched. For the first time in probably forever, it was all about her giving me pleasure, and there was nothing I could do in return.
I marveled at the exercise in self-control. She would cradle my head in her breasts, her arms, and my favorite, with my face buried in her warm neck. Many times my lips were pressed against her flesh and I yearn to move them, to kiss her marvelous flesh, to bring her pleasure too.
But I resisted that urge and just enjoyed the moment. It was such an intimate and vulnerable experience that warmth filled me from head to toe, and for the first time in over a year, my overactive brain stilled and was silent. At one point, I felt tears well in my eyes and cascade down my face in sweet relief.
At one point, she brought her face to mine, our lips almost meeting, and I danced a dangerous game with myself, but my lips behaved, while my imagination took over.
I’m sure that for her, despite the intimacy we shared, this was just another lap job for her. But for me, it was so much more. For that short time, my senses and sensuality reawakened for a bit, the world became just a little bit brighter, and a trickle of hope entered my heart again. Before we’d even begun, I’d given her twice her price for a lap dance, but she had earned far more!
As we parted, she offered to meet me for a private dance at another time and place, saying that it was not something she offered everyone, just those she really trusted. It would be for an hour, and will take me a long time to save up $500.
But two days later, the memory of the feel and smell of her warm and inviting neck reminds me that it will be worth it.
My nights were full of regrets, memories, and dreams that would often keep me up for hours. My days were spent just going through the motions, without my former passion for life.
I have always been a passionate and giving lover; more focused on my partner than my own orgasms. That, and my ADHD brain led to many a cumless encounter.
But I’ve never cared. I just enjoy being touched and touching in return. I’ve always yearned to be more adventurous in my sex life, but my partners weren’t as assertive. But they were always satisfied by me when we would join.
All of this is to say that when I allowed my best (gay) friend to drag me to the local strip club for a friend’s birthday celebration the other day, I had no expectations. I was our DD, so I just had an Angry Fireball to drink.
My friend and I sat in the second row back from the main dance floor, in a darkened corner. I was fascinated by this new experience. Believe it or not, I’d only been to one other strip club, and it had been over 20 years.
As we sat down, a dancer was finishing her act on the large stage, with a pole in the center, and a recessed ceiling above filled with mirrors and lights. The dancers here started dressed and finished nude, which was a pleasant surprise. Initially, my ADHD mind filled with countless wondering.
What’s the protocol? Do you tip each dancer? When and how do you pay them? How does one “make it rain” and what prompts this? You know, stupid newb musings like that.
The next dancer took the stage, and I was immediately interested. I’d seen most of the other dancers walking about on the floor, but none had piqued my interest.
Mariah was different. She wore clear high heals, came out in a flowing gossamer robe, with a tiny bikini beneath, and horn-rimmed bejeweled glasses on her face. She was slender, had modest breasts, a nice ass, a shaved pussy, medium length blonde hair, and an impish smile.
I could tell right away that she was a talented dancer. She flowed from place to place across the stage with smooth grace. Unlike the previous dancer, her form was more elegant and sensual, instead of raw and sexy. She used the pole a great deal, and I began to imagine my swiftly hard cock was that pole, as she effortlessly slid up and down it.
She danced for two songs, and before I knew it, she was done, and sweeping up piles of money. As she exited the stage, I realized that I had done nothing to show my appreciation!
I settled in for the next dance, wondering what was next, but it was not as exciting. I sensed a presence to my right and turned to see Mariah standing about a foot away from me, leaning against the alcove I was in, watching the next dancer, wearing her bikini again.
We were both silently watching for a few moments, until I took a drink from my cider and she seemed to notice me for the first time. She greeted me warmly with a hand on my shoulder, saying that she hadn’t seen me back there. She moved in behind me, starting a back and shoulder rub that sent my head spinning, as we chatted comfortably about various subjects.
I awkwardly said that I’d neglected to give her a tip, praising her last dance. I reached in my wallet and gave her a $20.
She was kind and gentle, and gave me her full attention. I’m inwardly a confident person, once I get over all of my distractions, like my looks, my weight, my lousy love life, and my lack of opportunities like this.
I succeeded in mostly not making a fool of myself, and silently hoped she didn’t pick up on my nerves. After a while, she offered smoothly to give me a lap dance for $40. I don’t have much money after my expenses, but I happened to have $100 in my pocket.
I told her I would be delighted and headed for the bar to make change. She cuddled me from behind while we waited for change and it felt great. She led me to a back room full of comfy couches, where we were alone (it was a quiet night). We continued talking for a bit while she got me into position in the middle of a couch, removed my glasses and my hat, and mounted me with incredibly smooth legs on either side of me.
The next twenty minutes or so (who knows), we spent intimately. We would occasionally talk softly, me offering inane comments about her beauty, her glasses, her heels, her bikini, and her kindness, offering way too many thanks for everything she was doing.
She asked me about myself, what I liked, what I did for work, like that. The conversations seemed natural and easy.
I quickly learned what a different sort of experience this would be for me, as I could not touch her, just be touched. For the first time in probably forever, it was all about her giving me pleasure, and there was nothing I could do in return.
I marveled at the exercise in self-control. She would cradle my head in her breasts, her arms, and my favorite, with my face buried in her warm neck. Many times my lips were pressed against her flesh and I yearn to move them, to kiss her marvelous flesh, to bring her pleasure too.
But I resisted that urge and just enjoyed the moment. It was such an intimate and vulnerable experience that warmth filled me from head to toe, and for the first time in over a year, my overactive brain stilled and was silent. At one point, I felt tears well in my eyes and cascade down my face in sweet relief.
At one point, she brought her face to mine, our lips almost meeting, and I danced a dangerous game with myself, but my lips behaved, while my imagination took over.
I’m sure that for her, despite the intimacy we shared, this was just another lap job for her. But for me, it was so much more. For that short time, my senses and sensuality reawakened for a bit, the world became just a little bit brighter, and a trickle of hope entered my heart again. Before we’d even begun, I’d given her twice her price for a lap dance, but she had earned far more!
As we parted, she offered to meet me for a private dance at another time and place, saying that it was not something she offered everyone, just those she really trusted. It would be for an hour, and will take me a long time to save up $500.
But two days later, the memory of the feel and smell of her warm and inviting neck reminds me that it will be worth it.
Poster:
Lost Lover
