Fantasies of a stripper

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My imagination has taken to wandering after three days of being locked up inside my house whilst the violence rages on outside on the streets of London.  Denied the ability to work, fantasies of being a stripper fill my mind.  Well, I am one already, so really it’s the fantasies of a stripper – lapdancing fantasies that have already happened, that I want to happen, how I wished they had happened.  I’ve danced for years, so have a lot, some are cookie-cutter fantasy, some are strange and esoteric, but I’ll list a few of my favourite stripping fantasies;

  • Giving Johnny Knoxville a lapdance whilst wearing his cowboy hat – it felt so rock and roll.
  • Giving a sci-fi actor a lapdance – I can’t remember whether it was Star Trek or Star Gate but our eyes locked throughout and we had a connection that was out of this world!
  • Doing tequila shots with my Pammy lookalike friend Grace in a dingy little Tokyo bar after work in the Roppongi district. She had nipples like pistons, and would wipe a slice of lime on one big, pneumatic nipple, sprinkle salt on the other, then balance the shot glass inbetween her ginormous surgically enhanced tits and approach my face with her ample creamy cleavage.  I was in tequila heaven. Yum.
  • Several VIP moments with several hot hot HOT girls – it’s a shame that I’m not in contact with so many of these wonderful women any more, but thats the nature of the stripping industry beast – we move on and disappear.  If I ever have trouble getting off, its these lesbian twosomes and threesomes (with the guy customer watching with a massive grin on his face) that I remember.  
  • Dancing for a dwarf.  This hasn’t happened yet, and it’s pissing me off.  It’s number one in my stripping ‘To-Do’ checklist – if there is a dwarf in my club, which seems to happen on an annual basis, I’ll make a beeline for him as soon as possible. But I miss every motherfucking time! I’ve danced for guys half paralysed in wheelchairs, a blind man (that was really fun – I had to dirtytalk a lot), plenty of hobbling broken legs, carefully shimmied round broken arms, I’ve had stroke victims, Downs syndrome – the lot.  But not a dwarf – although I did dance for a guy who had no hands and his legs amputated at the knee, so I’ve danced for someone of similar height.  (As a disclaimer, I’m not doing this because I feel sorry for them.  They are in the club to party with beautiful women, and I am happy to provide that service.  If I’ve given him something for his wank-bank, all the better! However, to keep me inspired, I do have a ‘To-Do’ checklist of bizarre stripper-related aspirations) 
  • Getting rained on.  This is an American term which means that a guy stands at the tipping rail (side of stage) and throws notes on a stripper whilst she dances – but throws so many that it looks like rain.  I’ve had it happen to me with fivers in London a few times, single dollar bills plenty of times, but the best was by a music producer who rained on me with $100 & $20 bills when I was dancing abroad.  Wow. My garter was certainly packing that night, I tell ya!
  • Getting praised by the management for doing a good job.  This NEVER fucking happens, as even if the burly blokes do give you a compliment, it’s always followed by a sarcastic rebuff/insult.     ie: ME; “I did really well tonight, here’s a tip for you”  BOSS; “Thanks, I knew you would do well tonight in that outfit, it looks good on you. Makes you look like a right slag.”
  • I’d love to give a rockstar a lapdance.
  • Ditto a pornstar – male or female, or a burlesque star.  Might be a bit intimidating, deffo lotsa fun.
  • I’d love to work in Vegas. It’s like the stripper Mecca.  I’ve been, and loved it, and wish I could click me heels and go to where the sun always shines, the high rollers are always rolling in, and the lights are bright.  I’m sure they would love me over there – in my fantasies all these American guys go “Jeez, I lurve ur pritty inglish accent, lets go to V.I.P right now” and shower me with casino winnings. Sigh. Unfortunately, as I don’t have a USA visa, Vegas business licence or sheriff’s card, it ain’t gonna happen, as the clubs in Vegas are SUPER strict on hiring. Meh.
Well, there are my favourite stripping fantasies right there. If I remember any more naughty times, or simply think of another lapdancing fantasy I’ll let you guys know.  Especially as it’s great fun to sit in the sun and fantasise about strippers, punters and stripclubs that I’ve met. 
Ciao! 

About author

sassy

Sassy by name, Sassy by nature, I write to explode the myths which surround the lapdancing profession - standing up for the clubs, the girls and the customers. Its not always drinking champagne and playing with my tits - it can be hassle, hustling and hangovers. At heart I'm just a regular twenty-something posh cockney living in London who likes taking her clothes off...

Comments
  • margaret#1

    August 21, 2011

    oh, haha, i laughed out loud at your first fantasy! just last night, i was at work, re-applying some lip gloss in the dressing room. the manager came in and said “a whole group of cowboys just showed up! hustle!” instantly i had a fantasy of performing a slow and sexy dance for a bull-ridin’ cowboy while wearing his hat. and did it ever happen!! FOUR TIMES! each as good as the last 🙂

    Reply
  • sassy#2

    August 31, 2011

    Ohhh WOW! I’m super jealous Margaret. There are no cowboys in the UK, unfortunately. Meh.

    Reply

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