The First Stripper

Now just to clarify I have slept with a few strippers, a few cops and a couple of military guys. It’s probably just the nature of dating in Vegas or my personal preferences. I really like strippers and male strippers are super hot as anyone who watched Magic Mike can vouch for. They are always 9 or 10’s, have hot bodies, love women and have fun, sexy personalities.

He was the first though. I met him in one of the casinos on the way to Thunder from Down Under. A show I was going to see with my bestie for her bachelorette party and we looked good. He got in the elevator with another guy equally ripped and they made small talk. It was awesome just to have this specimen of masculinity talking to me. I expected to see him in the show but didn’t, much to my disappointment. The show though was amazing. Afterward we headed to the bar since the dancers come out to mingle with their fans. Who did I see at the end of the bar but him, Mr. Elevator Guy. It wasn’t very long before I was busting his balls and he moved a little closer intrigued. We talked for a while and my bestie caught the attention of one of the dancers. When she left to the bathroom, things got heavy & I had a real conversation with him. So he was a little fucked up but still super hot. PTSD fucked up and yes he had been drinking as well.

My bestie came back & when she did, she started talking about leaving since she was going to fuck a dancer. My stripper gave me his number and then told my bestie “I’m going to take your girl out to her car and fuck the shit out of her.” It was so hot and unexpected that I immediately got wet. I said “Oh really? I’m her wing woman though so another time”. As we paid our tab he got off his bar stool and kissed me, deeply passionately and completely unexpectedly. My bestie said “Are you sure? I can wait for you.”

I didn’t sleep with him that night though. I waited until two days later and met him after work. Then he did indeed take me to my car and fuck the shit out of me. He was a grower with a cock that went halfway down his thighs. It was deep, amazing and he was a tiny Italian stallion. He was another short guy but had so much confidence, skill and was so built that it was easy to forget.

I went back three times before he blew me off. Once we had company in the car next to us but we didn’t let that stop us and literally set the car rocking. I loved fucking him but he was always cagey about taking it out of the car. It wasn’t until after he flaked out on me that I realized via Instagram that he had, had a girlfriend the whole time. That is why he is in this blog, not only because it’s much easier to keep track of guys I’ve fucked then dated but also because he is one more example of me missing cues. How was I supposed to know he had a girl? He had pursued me after all. Then again I’m sure most women don’t fuck strippers/models in the back of their cars in casino parking lots. That probably makes me a slut but it sure was fun.

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The Tourist

So let me start by saying the tourist who I slept with wasn’t really a tourist at all but an officer in the Air Force. Once I had my ex’s permission I decided that me sitting at a bar waiting for someone to hit on me was probably not a guarantee of good sex or a very safe idea. So online I went, to Ashley Madison to be exact. I posted my pics and a slightly biting blurb since I didn’t want anyone emotional. Then the flood came in, a fact I credit entirely to men utterly outnumbering women and not at all to my looks since I was a good 50 lbs heavier then I am now. I received so many dick pics it was obscene, fyi nobody likes them. Never ever with the exception of the one that was the size of a spray starch can, that was impressive.

In the hoard one guy stood out; bald and buff with some of the dirtest emails I have ever received. I’m talking romance novel quality, wet your panties and shiver in anticipation dirty. We exchanged a few emails and agreed to meet. He was much shorter then advertised, he said he was 5’10” but was probably 5’8″ on a good day. Believe me, men are compulsive liers about their height if they are under six foot. But he looked at me like no one had looked at me in a long time hungry, wolfish, like I was a delicious snack. I followed him back to his place  super nervous.

But then he did exactly what he said he’d do, he laid me on the counter of his kitchen and licked my pussy until I came. I was still nervous and uneasy because lets just say nobody had licked my pussy in a good three and a half years. My ex’s reasoning, pussies are gross, guess what that got him? Divorced but before that very few blow jobs, I believe in karma. It was amazing to say the least. I got on my knees to return the favor and found the smallest cock I had ever seen, teeny tiny. Plus side definitely no gag reflex.

The tourist though I think knew he had a teeny tiny cock so what followed was the best 12 hours of sex I’d ever had up until that point. Obviously broken up into three different “dates” and since he was only number five, my experience was limited. That being said 27 guys later, I’d still rank him in my top 5. It was the first time I’d ever gushed outside of masturbation, the first time I felt comfortable with anal (obviously such a tiny cock couldn’t cause much damage), the first time I had a G-spot orgasm and the first time my legs literally shook and I had to tap out. One orgasm rolling into another, a tiny muscular man who thought I was beautiful when I felt fat and rejected by my ex and he couldn’t stop fucking me, I was hooked.

I would return home smelling of sex with my head hurting from him pulling my hair and my pussy tingling to sleep next to my ex. I never told him exactly when I was with the tourist, simply saying I was going bar hopping. Our time was limited since he was going to be restationed in two weeks. So those dirty emails became dirty texts saying how much we couldn’t wait to fuck each other, how I loved the smell of him on me, how he couldn’t wait to fuck my tight ass and pull my hair, you know the usual stuff.

I was in the midst of planning our forth and last “date” when the shit hit the fan. I had a code on my phone but still took the precaution of erasing our messages daily. That day my ex was upset about the tourist and asked me if I’d stop seeing him if he asked me too. My response of course was “are you asking me to?” To which he replied “I just want to know you would”. His fear of course was that I was getting attached but since I knew he was leaving something I told my ex, it was moot point. It was just sex and he was leaving so breaking it off was a silly notion. My ex said that knowing that I was having sex with someone else made him want to have sex with me less. Otherwise I was damned if I did or damned if I didn’t.

So my ex read my text messages something I didn’t realize until he was watching tv and started crying. My heart broke because here is the man I love crying because I just want to get laid. I went to comfort him and that’s when he told me. Ridiculousness  ensued on his part including considering suicide and killing me obviously in reverse order. He told me he didn’t want to lose me and went to his mommy’s to decompress.

Nothing was ever the same, though we had brief periods of pretending everything was okay. The tourist moved and he became my counselor via email while things fell apart. When my ex left me never knowing I stayed in touch with the tourist, the binge began. Definitely where things got better and so much worse at the same time.