“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Monday, April 02, 2007

Been gone for a while again. This time my reasons are slightly better than usual.

I would like to open this particular tale with the following disclaimers:

Firstly, if you have a sensitive moral nature and/or don't want to hear me talk about my penis you may want to skip this one.

Because I will be talking about my penis.

A lot.

Second, for the women reading this, I want to point out that if any of the following makes me seem like a Neanderthal unworthy of your attentions you can rest assured that I'm probably just exaggerating for comedic effect and what I've said here should not be taken completely literally and should have no standing in your eyes as to the sterling quality of my character.

For the guys reading this every word of the following story is absolutely true. In fact, I'm probably holding shit back so as not to scare off the chicks. Any perverse details your minds subconsciously add are most likely true.

Are we ready?

You goddamn better be.

So if you're reading this you've likely read everything leading up to this, but I'll recap real quick. I stated my intentions to go to a strip club with my newly gotten money. Mistress Victoria told me that was a waste of my money. That was true, but what I didn't say earlier was that she meant that my money would be better spent on a prostitute than on strippers. That was also true, but see, I don't even like to use the rental shoes at the bowling alley. Rented ass falls basically into the same category, but I don't go home from the bowling alley with athletes foot on my junk.

Anyhow, I posted that she'd said that and Mistress V took that as a challenge. Plans were immediately made for the two of us to go strip clubbing.

Mental note: Challenge Victoria more often.

Now one thing that can be said about this massive fuck-up of a life I'm leading is that I have been blessed with an abundance of friends. So many in fact that I am loathe to use the term 'best friend' because I don't like the idea of ranking them. I'll tell you one thing though, taking me out to a strip club is a quick way of moving up a few spots on the list.

So I spent about a week cleaning the house, which still completely looked like crap, and tried to clean myself up, ditto, and after a few postponements due to illness Mistress Victoria finally made it to my place.

She pulls up in front of the house, sprints from the car and yells "Kiss them, they missed you!" At which point she pulls up her shirt and I'm kissing the most fantastic breasts I've ever seen in person right there in the middle of the street.

And wouldn't you fucking know it NOBODY was outside.

Goddammit.

There wasn't even anyone in my living room which is very unusual, even on a Tuesday night. And of course, since my friends didn't see it, it didn't fucking happen.

Buncha assholes.

So after a brief tour of the place, which Victoria said wasn't disgusting per-se, we headed out. First we hit Sugars on historic Seventh Street which was, up till that night, the best one I'd been to in town. Well that night it sucked ass. Granted, Tuesday night isn't the best time to go strip clubbing and they'd been closed most of the day due to the power being out for several hours, but when we went in there were only two other patrons, both guys, and they were far more interested in Victoria that anything they'd seen thus far.

And rightly they should have been. Taking Victoria to a strip club is like taking a fillet mignon to an all-you-can-eat buffet at McDonald's. Seriously, she's way hotter than anything we saw that night and I knew she would be even before we got there and I'm not just saying that because I know she's going to read this either. I'll have to put up a picture of her sometime. I'd do it now, but I want to make sure she's ok with it and I want to let her choose the pic.

And when you do see the pic, they ARE real and they are fucking SPECTACULAR.

Really, you have no idea.

Back to the story though, as much fun as it is to go to the titty bar (and ladies, it IS fun) it's way more fun with V because people look at me like I'm fucking Superman with her on my arm.

Of course, I AM Superman, so it kinda works out. You just can't always tell because I usually have pants on...

It's here that I should pause for a second and explain a couple of the mysteries of manhood to the women reading this. The fact that women actually DO read this, let along comprise a large portion of my readership is the mystery to me, but I digress from my point.

Some of you probably wonder why, if Victoria is so hot why I'd be taking her to a strip club rather thansomewhere private to try and score. You're probably further wondering why she wanted to take me there in the first place. The answers are related. See, Victoria is bisexual and that's extremely cool. She got as much out of going there as I did. Plus I got to hang out with her, a dear friend of mine in addition to being the object of many a lustful thought on my part. In short, knowing that she was enjoying it made me enjoy it more. Now I understand that many women wouldn't understand this, so I'm going to explain it.

Why is it that guys are so accepting of lesbians (not that Victoria is a lesbian) or lesbian related materials these days? There are really two reasons. The first answer, as it is in so many things, is porn. As the pornography industry grew it evolved. In the early days the producers believed that men, the target audience of most porn (especially back then), wanted to see women have sex with average looking guys that they could relate to and equate themselves with. Given that the porn industry is primarily a California thing and Californians have a very low opinion of anyone that doesn't live in California (ironic really) these guys tended to be pretty damn ugly.

A prime example of this is my hero Ron Jeremy. Of course he would have become a pornstar in any era because he's got a ten inch penis, but it would have been a lot harder to get his schlong in the door were it not for that mentality.

After a while, around the early 90's, they started putting guys who worked out and showered on occasion in porn films. This was probably done because more women were watching porn, but for whatever reason it was a shift in the industry. And while it was always around, girl on girl porn became more and more accepted and consumed mostly by heterosexual guys. I believe this was just the evolution going one step further from average guy to attractive guy to "Hey! Two hot naked chicks!"

It's the way the male brain is wired and it's why our species has been so successful. To the male brain there is no problem that can't be solved by either brute force or the addition of more naked women. More naked women, to the primitive portions of a guy's brain (about 95% of it on average) equals more sex.

And that was true before the dawn of civilization, but then women had to go and create civilization...

Yes, I said it, women created civilization and effectively rule it even if they don't know it. See, if not for women (and I think I've said this here before, but it bears repeating) men would still be living in trees and whipping crap at each other. Now before you start to dispute me here ladies picture your man naked in a tree. Yeah. Seems a lot more plausible now doesn't it?

Everything that's ever been invented was done to either attract women (houses, cars, deodorant), supplement women (pornography, blow up dolls, hand lotion), keep women occupied (telephones, shoes, shiny objects) or kill things.

On an unrelated note I don't think it's strange that killing things is the one thing out of all of those that we do best.

But yes, if not for the ages old quest to get laid our culture, technology, even our physical selves wouldn't have evolved as it has and it's all due to the fact that it's kinda hard to get a woman to fuck you in a tree.

Don't believe me? Try it sometime.

Wow. Yet another of those statements that probably illustrates why I'm still single.

The other reason why lesbian porn is so popular among hetero males is because we utterly fail to understand women at all so the thought of a woman that we have something fundamental in common with is very appealing. Since the number one thing on any straight man's mind at any given moment is women that's the ultimate thing
to have in common. Right behind an understanding of football which is far more rare in women.

All of this, of course, is subliminal and therefore completely ignores the fact that most real lesbians; A: are ONLY interested in other women, and B: usually look like guys. And I don't mean that as an insult to real lesbians. I know several, and God only knows how many others read this blog, and that's cool. I'm just saying that women who are looking exclusively for other women aren't looking for the same traits as hetero guys despite what Kevin Smith would lead one to believe.

And I love Kevin Smith too, I'm just saying.

There actually is a third reason why lesbian porn is embraced as it is, but it's really too obvious to be a reason unto itself. it's simply that two hot porno women together is twice the chicks with none of the hairy man ass that we don't want to see.

Yes, there are plenty of guys that WANT to see hairy man ass, but they're all off watching completely different porn.

On a quick side note, I've got no problem with homosexual guys either. As I explained to my boy Derek the other day whilst on our tire buying adventure, with all the things we have to worry about in this world, worrying about where another man wants to put his penis is rather absurd. I mean, I don't really understand it, but hellas long as the person, place or thing you're fucking has no objection then go fuck it. Like I give a shit.

On another side note, Harry Manass would be a great porn name. You could even spell it 'manasse' to look more legitimate. Of course that also makes it look French so it would be more suited to gay porn.

yes, I'm saying that all the French men are queer. If not for the fact that they surrender at the drop of a hat allowing other countries to come in and create more cheese-eating, surrender-monkeys they'd have died out long ago.

Fuck the French.

But enough of the anthropology lecture, back to the story.

We hung out at Sugars through about two dancers who were clearly bored as shit and not at all happy that we were there because it meant they had to get off their asses and come out on stage. That alone would have made it my last trip to Sugars, but our next stop made it absolutely certain. We hit 77 Sunset Strip next. It's right next to the Lion's Den Adult Superstore in the back of the truck stop in Mineral Wells.

This was a major improvement. Yeah, there are plenty of better strip clubs in the world, but for the ass end of civilization (Parkersburg WV) you can't ask for much better than this place. In all fairness I've not seen their chief competitor the VIP Club yet, but I'm not sure if I want to. I mean, it used to kinda creep me out a bit that Sugars had a buffet. Yes, a strip club with a buffet.

No, I didn't ask if they had crabs.

But that's not as off-putting as that the VIP Club advertises that they have a hot tub. A hot tub that you can get in with the strippers.

At first this sounds kinda cool. For about two seconds. Till you think about the logistics involved. Then that hot tub sounds more like a bubbling, churning, cauldron of DNA and God knows what else. Even if the tub had a disposable liner and they flushed it after each use with fucking turpentine I still wouldn't get my ass in there.

So 77 Sunset was a very classy place and I recommend it. We didn't get any of the famous girls that go on tour since we were there on a Tuesday night, but the girls we got were quite satisfactory. We watched three or four and throughout the girls kept asking me if Victoria was there looking for work. One of them even told me that I needed to give Vic more money to give to the dancers. This was funny as hell becauseVic paid my way all night.

Again, it's just a testament to how much credit you get from having a gorgeous, confident woman on your arm.

I should really do that more often...

Oh, that's right, I'm a big fat sack of crap, so that's kinda out. I am getting better though, as Victoria herself noticed. I'm losing weight and my weightlifting is finally starting to show, so there's still a bit of hope.

By this point Victoria had picked out the one she wanted for her lap dance and I'd picked mine so we went upstairs to the lap dance area. I was disappointed to see that there were individual booths for this as I was looking forward to having Vic there with me because that would have made the whole thing ten times hotter, but things turned out pretty good anyhow.

Now I've been to a few strip clubs, but this was my first ever lap dance. This has a lot to do with the fact that I'm usually dead broke. Well at 77 Sunset Strip they're an economical $20 for one song or $50 for six songs. We each opted for a $20, which again Vic paid for and for which I am obligated to say that I am her bitch and I say so without hesitation.

I get to the booth and the girl (her name escapes me) tells me to sit on the couch. I know that you're not supposed to touch the dancers, so I sit back on the imitation leather couch and put my arms across the back.

Remember at the top where I said I was gonna talk about my penis? Well here it is.

Ever since all my surgical crap I've been wearing these pants that are made out of what is essentially t-shirt material. They're like sweat pants but they're thinner and they look a lot better. I also switched from boxers to baggy boxer briefs. The reason for both is the same. The loose, stretchy material doesn't irritate incisions, stitches, staples or scar tissue.

So I'm sitting on the couch with very little restraining my massive wang and given the downstairs activity I was already past the semi-wood point.

Like I said, I understood the fact that I couldn't touch the dancer and that the dance would involve my lap, but I didn't realize just how much the dancer would be touching me.

Neither did she.

Had I known though I'd have certainly pointed out that I have my guts sticking out through a massive hole in my gut because within moments after the fabric came off her titties she had jumped on my stomach.

My thought process went something like this:
"Ugh! I think I'm gonna puke..."
"I can't breathe, may black out..."
"Hey! Boobs on my face!"


And all was right with the world again.

She wasn't on the hernia long though and once she got off it never occurred to me to tell her about it because she was then grinding her panties in my face and that has a way of taking over one's priorities.

But back to my penis. While it had been slightly aldente before the dance it was harder than a diamond in a snowstorm now and due to the stretchy pants factor it was only somewhat restrained. As a result she kept bumping into the end of it. HARD. So I was really enjoying myself but every few seconds I'm getting hit in the end of my huge erection.

I was a little worried by by this because there are the odd strippers here and there who frown upon such things and I never understood why. you would think that a boner would indicate a job well done, and a lack of one would be an insult, but you never know. Some people just don't take pride in their work these days. There was also the fear of injury, but that was fairly low priority at that point.

Well my dancer wasn't put off by this at all. In fact, she seemed quite flattered, even going so far as to say "Wow, I've really got you hard don't I?" There's no fooling that one. Then, after bumping into it a few more times she reached down there.

I'm not sure exactly what she was planning on doing. Maybe she was going to push it off to the side more, at that point it was down my right pant leg, or maybe she was just going to give it a little rub through the fabric, but due to the stretchy pants she just grabbed me by the crank.

Victoria damn near got far more than her money's worth right then and there.

So she looks up at me, visibly impressed (I'm huge) and while still shaking hands with the general she says "Oh, is that Ok?"

Let's see, I haven't had a date since 1999 (Till this incident anyway. I'm totally counting my night with Victoria as a date. In fact, it went a lot better than my last date.) and I've been watching naked women for a few hours with a woman that embodies every impure thought I've ever had laying her head on my shoulder and now a half naked girl grabs me by the pork sword. Is that Ok?

"Is that a trick-fucking-question?"

And she smiled and finished out the song. Real professional that one. I hope she's there next time I go. I like her... attitude.

Anyhow, we watched a couple more dancers, including the one from my dance, and we headed out. We had originally planned on checking out the VIP Club, but since it was after 2 AM and everything in this goddamn town that doesn't close at 9 closes at 3 we just went to The Mountaineer Family Restaurant, one of the only two 24-hour restaurants here in town for steaks and shrimp, then back to my place.

As for the rest of the evening I ain't saying shit other than I'm still finding bruises six days later.

That's it for now.

Oh, the new strip should be up any day now. Keep checking www.TerriblyWrongOnline.com for it. It took a couple days, but I finally got enough grip back in my hand to finish it a few days after the events above.

Take that as you will.

Labels:


0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home