May, 2011

Don't Marry the Stripper

My lifelong goal has finally been realized, I've finally had sex with a stripper. Thank you Jesus! Even better, I'm marrying said stripper. Life is good. Strippers are a fantasy. Actually I think to call them strippers is really not appropriate. To me, a stripper would be much more aptly named if they were called Fantasy Girls.
Mitch and Jessica (my hot stripper)

Fantasy Girl describes them much more eloquently and concisely than the rather bland and obvious term stripper. Stripping, or taking off their clothes, is a very small and ironically not integral part of the service they provide. In fact, strippers are truly at their sexiest and most appealing while they are still dressed. (Albeit dressed in glitter panties and mesh bras). Strippers are the perfect mix of femininity and sexuality. They are, like it or not, every mans real fantasy. An overly sexual, slutty and sweet girl that just loves spending time with you and can't wait to sit on your lap and dance for you. Of course, it's a fantasy and like every real man, I always wanted to have sex with a stripper. If you're lucky enough to be one of the few men to do this consider yourself a lucky fucker and move on with your life. Whatever you do though, don't marry the stripper! Pay the stripper, beg the stripper, gaze at the stripper, drool over the stripper, lick the stripper, feed the stripper, buy drinks for the stripper, waste thousands of dollars on the stripper, but for god sakes man, don't marry the stripper. Marrying a stripper historically has never had a positive outcome. Actually, let me amend that last statement, you may marry the stripper if you're lucky enough to find the one stripper in the world with brains, personality, class, humor and drive who isn't money hungry. If you find her, then wrap her up ASAP. Here's the bad news, that stripper doesn't exist. That's more of a fantasy than the stripper herself. Strippers are, by design, strippers because they usually lack the qualities one would look for in a loving partner. In other words, they're nuts! For the record, the stripper never ever ever likes you, they like when you spend money on them, but outside of that they could care less if you fell down a drainpipe when you left. So, of course the obvious question now begs to be answered, "Why am I marrying the stripper?" Good question with a simple answer, I'm nuts...and I also happened to find the one stripper in the world with brains, personality, class, humor and drive who isn't money hungry. So, I wrapped her up! It also doesn't hurt that most strippers can give you sex that can only be described as "Off the charts". Ironically I didn't meet my loving stripper at the strip club, nor did I ever even go to strip clubs. I couldn't bear to enter a club and deal with the fact that I was not going to leave with the fantasy girl.
The infamous VIP room (Penis remains in pants gentleman)

I found it brutally frustrating. You need one of three things to have any chance of getting a stripper, Money, drugs or fame. Fame is the biggest aphrodisiac, if a girl "knows" who you are they will usually want the notch on their garter. Other than fame and drugs the only other real slight chance you have of "getting" the stripper is if you have enough money to bring them into the VIP room and woo them. Ahhh, the VIP room. Also known as the Champagne room or the extra petting and contact room or the "Can I please pull my penis out if I give you an extra $200.00 room". I've learned a lot about the VIP room from my stripper. Contrary to proper belief not much goes on in the VIP room. Jessica, my future wife, has told me the stories she knows and has witnessed but by and large it's not a room of prostitution and Jessica was one of the many girls who never gave the guy what he was looking for in the VIP although the secret was to constantly make them think they had a chance of getting it. The VIP is a private, sometimes ornate, sometimes sleazy room, where poor, mostly rich, unsuspecting souls spend what most people make in a month in a few hours, with the usually very drunk idea in the back of their head that they will be pulling off the impossible and finally "get" the stripper. The vast majority are left only pulling off their pants later and taking care of themselves in the car. Even if I was rich the level of frustration in my estimation would only double in the VIP room because not only are you getting teased for hours, but you're spending a fortune and still going home to jerk off. I never saw the benefit, I could just jerk off to a porno site for $19.99 a month. (Hint: Most sites are only $9.99 if you try to cancel)

So, jump ahead now to me and my perfect "new" life. Instead of going to pay the stripper, I'm marrying the stripper (ex stripper I should say, Jessica has retired so all you pervs can give up any thoughts of getting my fiance to grind against your sad boner at the club). I now am living the fantasy, I get the stripper, for free and she "really" likes me, or maybe she likes the nice diamond ring I put on her finger, honestly I couldn't care the reason, all I know is I'm now saving thousands of dollars in VIP fees and I'm having the time of my life. To hear about it in detail or actually question the stripper in question make sure you tune into our show "Sex and Swinging with Mitch and Jessica" on Sirius/XM Howard 101 this Monday May 2nd 7pm EST and I promise you will hear all our exploits in stunning and graphic detail. If you're really lucky you may get invited into the champagne room with us and no matter what you've heard, "Shit DOES go down in the VIP!"


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