“Have you ever been to Vegas?” he asked. Polly shook her head no, and he continued. “Well, the Strip – pardon the pun – is amazing! You can go from one casino to the other with drinks in your hand! There are people everywhere, and every casino has some gimmick to try to draw you in. Free booze if you are playing the slots, and drunk ladies all over the place. It is like Disneyland for adults!” He laughed, hoping to get some reaction out of Polly. She looked up, smiled quickly, then looked back down at her notes.
“My friends and I are walking down the strip, drinks in our hand, heading to another casino when we somehow got separated. The Strip in Vegas is always filled with people, and there is so much to see! So I’m walking down the Strip, looking for my friends, when I come across a buzzed bachelorette party. There are bachelor and bachelorette parties everywhere in Vegas! It is epic to party there!” He smiled excitedly, looking at her to get a reaction. Polly nodded, still looking down at her notepad and wrote. “Subject One is a pleasure seeker hedonist partier who enjoys drunk women,” she scribbled. “I don’t really like drunk women, but these girls seemed fun and not overly drunk!” Polly crossed out the “drunk women” part of her notes.
“So, you are in Vegas, gambling, walking the strip looking for women?” Polly said neutrally, looking right at him.
“No,” he paused to take a sip of his coffee. She noticed that he had large hands that were well-manicured. “I was in Vegas with the guys when we got separated, and I got roped into what seemed like a fun bachelorette party. If it was you, wouldn’t you want to go have fun?”
Polly looked away, and asked him to resume.
“Here I am, on the strip, drink in my hand, ready to party with my friends, when a bachelorette party of about six women stops me on the street and asks me to come into a club with them. I protested that I was looking for my friends, but these girls just would not take no for an answer! I was single, ready for fun, and before I knew it, I was being dragged into the club. But you know, they didn’t have to twist my rubber arm very much,” he said with a smile and slight laugh. Polly ignored it. He was thinking she didn’t have a very fun personality, and wondered if all researchers were such, well, boring Pollyannas. He thought her name suited her.
“So here I am, a single good looking guy, with six girls including the bride to be. I go into the club, and start talking to these girls. Turns out a couple of them went to the same university as me, and one of them graduated the year after I did. Small world.”
Polly looked up at him curiously. The Stripper was smart? A university degree? “What is your degree in?” she asked, intrigued.
“I know what you’re thinking – a stripper with a degree. How odd. But I have no student debt and I get to make women happy.” He smiled. “I have a history degree, with a minor in psychology.”
“My major was psychology and my minor was history. Eventually I moved into Sociology. How funny!” Polly smiled at him. Finally. He could see her relax a bit.
The Stripper continued, “Here we all are in a club, dancing, drinking, grinding on the dance floor, having some great fun. The bachelorette I was dancing with is feeling fine … and is feeling me fine too,” he stops to wink at Polly, take a drink of his coffee, and then continues. “She is dancing really close to me, teasing my…cock…” he paused to gauge whether he could get graphic or not, but she was looking down at her yellow notepad and does not stop him so he continued, “…with her hand through my jeans, making me hard. She can feel how big and hard I am getting, is kissing me really hard too; I’m teasing her nipple with my fingers, and I am ready to take her to the bathroom and fuck her hard and fast in one of the stalls. The music stops, and an announcer comes on the stage. She announces that because it is Ladies Night, they are doing a wet shorts contest. I have never heard of this, but it is like a wet t-shirt contest for women, only the water is poured on the guys.” The Stripper stops to make sure that Polly is following, then resumes. “So Bachelorette says I would totally win, that I should get up there and show what I have. I told her I like to keep that under wraps for special ladies,” he smiled. “She just wouldn’t give up though. The kicker was the prize though – $1,000 for the winner. In Vegas, I could totally use that. Then I thought what the hell, you only live once, and what happens in Vegas….” He looked at Polly, smiled and winked. Polly thought that she should ask him if he has something in his eye, but thought better of it.
“So I go to the announcer, tell her that I want to sign up, and she sends me backstage. There are other guys there who had on boxers like me, changing into tighty-whiteys. I’m talking thin tighty-whiteys,” The Stripper pauses for full effect. “I put on the short-leg white briefs, and we are all trotted out onto the stage. There are seven of us. I could hear the cheering for us as we stood in our shorts and each of us was introduced. I think I might have blushed, as I had never done anything like that before. That didn’t last long though. I can’t really describe it… I mean the feeling I had. I was standing practically naked in front of all of these people, strangers except for my few new friends, and I couldn’t help but get turned on. I enjoyed being leered at in thin white underwear.” The Stripper, taking a long drink of his coffee, lets the image of him standing with a hard cock in front of strangers sink in.
Polly had been breathing shallowly since he had started the story, and realized she was staring at The Stripper’s crotch, wondering if he was wearing tighty-whiteys now. She quickly averted her eyes back to her notepad. “So then what happened?” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly.
“Well, then we got wet. The announcer had some super soaker water guns, and called on 7 volunteers from the audience, one for each guy, to squirt us all in the crotch. The ladies loved this! Just a little bit at first. After each girl was done with each guy, the announcer called out our numbers and asked the audience what they thought of our wet cocks. I was number 4. The cheering I got made me really thicken up, and the ladies could see this. I got a lot of cheers,” he smiled, enjoying the memory. “The announcer then told the girls to shoot us and wet our cocks again. Man, they loved that. You could totally see our cocks through the white shorts. We strutted our stuff on the stage for everyone. The more cheers I heard, the harder and thicker I got. I loved being ogled at by lusty women. I still do. By the last round of the competition, I was hard as anything and my cock was straight as a pole. Some of the guys just couldn’t handle it – they got stage fright,” he laughed. “The girls in the audience were screaming when my number was called. I absolutely loved it,” he said emphatically.
“I am assuming you won the contest?”
“You bet I did,” The Stripper said proudly. “I was so hard and turned on from the contest, the ladies could probably smell the lust radiating from me. I had never felt quite that way before. I got the money, changed, and took the Bachelorette and one of her friends into the men’s room and screwed them dirty and fast, one after the other.” The Stripper could tell he had shocked Polly with that last statement. He decided to push her just a bit. “Don’t you sometimes just need it hard and fast?”
Polly’s eyes widened and a shiver ran down her insides. “I don’t think we need to talk about that,” she said hurriedly. “I don’t see the connection between that and being a stripper. Obviously you don’t live in Vegas now.”
The Stripper smiled at having ruffled her feathers a bit. “Ah, well I came home and couldn’t get the feeling of being in front of a crowd of lusty women out of my head. I had wet dreams about it, and would wake up in the morning with an even more serious hard-on that usual. I played with the idea of stripping for women for a little while. Finally, I called an ad I saw online for a male strip club that was looking for ‘hot male bodies.’”
Polly's Erotica 