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Introduction:

This may or may not be a true story. All characters are 18+ Feel free to comment
There’s no sex in the champagne room. Chris Rock said so. In my limited and humble experience, well, Chris Rock is right, but he didn’t say anything about orgasms.

Right around the turn of the 21st century, I was 22 years old, living in a large American city, working my first job after college and I was still a virgin. Not for the lack of trying, I just hadn’t been lucky in love to this point. I had grown up a bit sheltered but I’d had girlfriends, but had never gotten past first base, maybe first and a half base if you count some over the shirt rubbing.

Working downtown gave me a nice opportunity to explore the city. Almost every lunch break I’d take a walk, looking for different diners to grab a bite to eat and seek out interesting shops and city landmarks. On one such occasion, I happened to stroll right past a tucked away shop with a burnt out neon light that was supposed to be flashing the word “sex”. Obviously intrigued, and oversexed, I decided to investigate further. The store was a few feet below street level, so I nervously walked down the handful of stairs and opened the door to the vestibule where a large man gave me a look-over then opened the inside door for me. Once inside, my assumption was correct, it was a sex shop and I was like a kid in a candy shop. Up to this point in my life, my only excursion into the seedy underground of sex purchasing was at a regular magazine shop that also had an adult section. When I was in high school, some friends and I learned that the guy who worked there on weekends, never asked anyone how old they were and never carded anyone.

This shop, though, had it all, videos, magazines, trashy lingerie, sex toys, S&M paraphernalia, you name it, it was there. I noticed there was a male cashier behind the counter and a few other men dressed in business attire perusing the merchandise. Even though it felt creepy, being out in public in a room of only dudes, I could feel my cock hardening in my pants as I examined the dildos, porn star’s replica pussies and various other sexual toys on display. This was also a time before the internet porn explosion, so while the idea of buying a porno tape was exciting, the thought of hiding a tape somewhere seemed like too much work so I made my way over to the magazine section and picked out a couple I thought would make a good addition to my jerk-off material. Hustler and Penthouse were always favorites and today was no different, except I chose a Barely Legal instead of the regular Hustler. Heart racing, I brought my magazines, still wrapped in the plastic to the checkout counter, and paid - in cash of course and was handed my new treasures in a discreet, brown paper bag.

I was about to leave when I noticed a sign behind the register that pointed to a stairway which said “Wrestling”. The first thing that popped into my head was that scene from the movie Stripes where John Candy mud wrestles all those girls and ends up untying all their bikini tops. I decided to check it out. I crept up the stairs and when I got to the landing at the top all I saw were some more men, all dressed in business suits watching a few different screens of WWF wrestling. There was Hulk Hogan, Macho Man, Iron Sheik and all the rest of the classic guys from the 1980’s and 90’s. I realized pretty quickly I had stumbled into the gay fetish scene, a bunch of dudes getting excited watching oiled up muscle guys in tight wrestling trunks. Needless to say I shot right back downstairs and didn’t look back.

That experience aside, I was intrigued and dedicated the next several nights researching strip clubs in the area. Settling on the one second closest to my office - I didn’t want to get accidentally spotted by someone I knew from work - I decided to go one night after work. After stopping at the ATM, and making sure I had plenty of singles with me, I made my way to the club and with the same nervousness endured the same scrutiny at the entrance, except this time I was asked to show my ID. The bouncer at the door gave me a nod of approval and informed me there was a two drink minimum and reminded me to tip the waitresses. Once seated, a cute cocktail waitress placed a napkin on my table and I ordered my first beer of the night.

I was in heaven, drinking a beer, watching girl after girl on stage dancing and stripping down to their g-strings (thanks America’s mayor) and seeing my first pairs of real life, live action tits. I had my wad of singles in my front pocket and felt like a big spender giving a dollar to every gyrating girl on stage. I even got a little feel of one girl’s tits when she held them together for me and had me place my one dollar tip between her lovely set. Even though I had prepared in advance and brought plenty of cash, I was too shy and chickened out when it came time that dancers would walk around the bar asking if guys were interested in lapdances.

After the DJ announced they were having a special half hour, $10 lapdance special this one skinny blond dancer with big tits came up to me and asked if I wanted a lapdance. Not that she wasn’t my type, but I guessed she was a little older, maybe mid 30’s, and if I was going to break down and buy a dance it probably wouldn’t have been from her. I politely said “no thank you” but she wasn’t having it.

She wasn’t pushy, but with a flippant attitude she asked me, “what, I’m not worth $10?” Sensing my apprehension, she gave me a little wink, letting me know she was just joking but it was cute enough to make me change my mind.

I told her I couldn’t argue with her logic so when the next song started she got down to business. She put her hands on my knees, spreading my legs apart wide enough for her to dance between. Wiggling and jiggling right in front of me she leaned in real close, my face touching her collarbone, my eyes inches from her glorious, bikini covered tits. Eventually she took her top off and turned around so she could rub her g-string covered ass on my crotch. I didn’t know the strip club etiquette but I assumed it was rude to get hard when a sexy half-naked woman is dancing for you, and on you. While I was definitely self-conscious, it was such a turn on watching her ass grind on my lap that my cock was fully hard in my pants. I was pretty sure she felt it too and wasn’t sure what she’d think about that. She answered the question in my head real quick when she reached down and grabbed my dick through my pants and gave me a quick squeeze. When the song was over I paid her, she thanked me and gave me a kiss on the cheek and said “wasn’t so bad, was it?” And with another wink, she was on to her next customer.

After that I was hooked on strip clubs. I went as often as I could afford to go, back to that club and also trying out new ones in the city. I’d sit in my little corner of the club, nursing my two beers and patiently decide which girl I’d buy a dance from. I never had another dance reach down and squeeze my cock like that first one, but on several occasions, the dancers would either grind their asses on me, or rub their tits in my face and grind their knees or thighs on my hard cock until I actually came in my pants. I was pretty sure they knew what they were doing and they weren’t accidentally getting me off because it only happened if I paid extra for a full 3 song set instead of just one three minute song. I even got to the point where I’d stop in the bathroom before sitting down and put some tissues in my shorts so it wouldn’t be visible on my pants.

One night, I decided to try a new place, even further from work. I walked in and was immediately spotted by a young, gorgeous, brown haired, large chested girl, wearing a tight, silver dress that barely reached past her ass. She made a beeline to me and grabbed my hand and said “let’s go”.

Shy and lacking confidence to do anything else, I followed her downstairs, staring at her perfect ass along the way down to a quiet lounge area with several doors leading to what I could only assume were “champagne” rooms. She explained to me that she could be mine for half an hour for the low price of only $250, or a full hour for $400. I was young, poor and dumb but I knew I couldn’t afford a whole hour so I settled on the half-hour option. Out of nowhere, some guy showed up and asked for my credit card and like a naive, horny man I didn’t think twice about handing it to him.

She said her name was Sarah and that we should dance while we waited for my credit card to be charged. Besides not knowing what I was really getting myself into, now I had the extra anxiety that there’d be something wrong with my credit card and I’d get tossed out of there. We danced for a few minutes, if you can call her pressing her soft body against mine “dancing”. Thankfully, the guy came back a couple minutes later with my card, I signed the charge and we were on the clock.

Inside our room there was a couch and a bed and a little end table with what I guess was a bottle of champagne but the idea of drinking anything never crossed my mind and Sarah never offered. She led me to the couch and sat me down before sliding off her dress, revealing just a pink g-string underneath. She got down on the floor below me and slid her panties off one leg, leaving them dangling around one ankle. With her back on the floor, she lifted her legs, resting each stripper-heeled foot on each of my knees giving me an up-close, unrestricted view of her shaved pussy. Sarah spread her lips apart and spent the next few minutes rubbing her clit and even sliding one finger inside her wet pussy before bringing her finger to her mouth so she could taste herself and tell me how good she tasted.

Needless to say, my cock was already rock hard in my pants when she got up and pulled her panties back on. There must have been some laws she was following or maybe the floor was out of range for the hidden cameras that I was sure were in the room to pick up what she was doing down there.

She led me to the bed and told me to lay down. Sarah leaned over me, her face just inches from mine and pressed her body on to me, her thigh pressing into my crotch, grinding back and forth on my cock. She told me I could touch her tits and for the first time in my life I was feeling up a girl skin on skin, squeezing and massaging her big tits, kneading her soft flesh and playing with her hard nipples. She was moaning and panting, I could feel her breath on my face and neck as she ground her leg harder against my aching cock. When she leaned closer and whispered in my ear “cum for me baby”, I needed no further encouragement before I exploded in my pants, soaking my shorts with sticky cum.

Sensing that I had climaxed, Sarah snuggled up next to me and told me to keep touching her. I spent the rest of our half an hour with unfettered access to her fantastic tits, while she unbuttoned my shirt and rubbed my chest as well.

When my time was up, Sarah reminded me I needed to give her a big tip. I was short on cash but knew there was an ATM upstairs because, well, there’s always an ATM. We walked up together and once I put my card and PIN in the ATM, Sarah quickly ***********ed the $100 withdrawal on the machine and grabbed the money. She thanked me and gave me a hug and then I went home. That was my last visit to a strip club, I was pretty sure no other strip club experience could have topped my visit to the Champagne room.
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