I Made Out With A Stripper For My 18th Birthday


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I Made Out With A Stripper For My 18th Birthday

It all started two weeks prior to my eighteenth birthday. I was hooking up with this kid that went to a neighboring high school pretty consistently. He knew my birthday was coming and asked me if I had any big plans. My friends were throwing me a party, but I also offhandedly mentioned I wanted to do all the things I could legally do after turning eighteen; buy lottery tickets, buy cigarettes, get pierced, and go to the strip club.

Telling a horny, eighteen-year-old guy you want to go to the strip club is akin to telling your boyfriend you want a threesome. His mind is going to go places. After I mentioned it, he brought it up again a few days later.

“So you really want to go the strip club?” he asked.

“Well yeah,” I said. “I want to start eighteen off with bang.”

“But, like, do you want to go to a strip club with girls or guys?” he pressed.

“Well, Kay and I looked and like, the closest guy strip club with actual hot guys is like two hours away so it’s going to have to be girls,” I replied.

He looked like a kid in a candy store. But again, I thought nothing of this. I was the first of my friends to turn eighteen so I didn’t think it would happen. I mean, it’s not like I was going to go alone. So my eighteenth came and went. My big act of rebellion was getting my nipples pierced, followed by getting high-school drunk at a high school house party. All in all, a successful birthday.

That week, my sort of fuck-buddy texted me and asked if I had plans on Friday night. When I replied no, he asked if I could make up an excuse to my parents to be gone for the whole night. Intrigued, I told him I would just tell them I was sleeping at a friend’s house (total high school move, amirite?). We talked on and off all that week, but still, he wouldn’t give me any clue as to what the plan was. All he told me was to “dress sexy.” I always look hot, so mission accomplished.

My date picked me up, again I asked what the plan was, and again he wouldn’t tell me. All I got was “it’s a birthday surprise.” I honestly should have known where this was going with that comment alone, but I couldn’t piece it together, because young and dumb. He handed me a Mike’s Hard (stop judging, it was high school) and sparked a blunt and we took turns puff puff passing that shit while he continued to drive to our mystery location.

By the time we pulled into the parking lot, even in my fucked up state, I could clearly read the neon lights announcing that we were at ‘Gentleman’s Club.’ I looked at my date with wide eyes, equal parts nerves and excitement. ”Surprise baby,” he said, ”Happy eighteenth birthday.”

It may have crossed my mind that I was in over my head but fuck it, I’m not a quitter. I got myself into this situation by saying that I wanted to go to a strip club so I was going to go. We walked into the club and I couldn’t help but feel like I was playing dress-up in my heels, jeans, and Bebe bustier. The bouncers had to know I wasn’t ready for this as they looked me over and examined my ID, but I slapped my most self-assured smile on, thankful for the false confidence the weed and alcohol provided me.

My date grabbed a booth with a view of the stage and we sat down. I think he could tell I was nervous because he offered me a Xanax which I happily accepted. We watched the girls dance for a little bit and I slowly started to get more into it. I’d be lying if I said the girls weren’t hot, although maybe a little too tatted-biker-gang-esque for my taste. Still, I was enjoying myself and even then, I knew this would be one hell of a story.

When my guy turned to me and told me to “pick a girl,” I knew this was the point of no return. I could’ve bowed out gracefully and said I’d had enough. Instead, I committed. I pointed to a blonde and told him that I thought she was pretty hot. My date got up and went over to her. He talked to her for a little, pointed at me, and the next thing I knew, she was straddling me and giving me a world class lap dance. I love dick, but dear lord, this girl was HOT. I have no idea what possessed her do this, and from everything I’ve heard since, this wasn’t normal, but during the lap dance, she grabbed my hands and put them on her tits and encouraged me to feel her up.

Here I was, freshly 18, only somewhat experienced with guys and now some stripper was making me feel some type of way. I looked over at my date and the only way to properly describe his facial expression would be a mixture of pure joy and lust. As the song ended, Jasmine grabbed my chin, pulled me close and gave me one of the hottest kisses I’ve ever experienced.

Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it’s the fact that I get off on being the center of attention, or maybe I am just slightly into girls, but I was turned the fuck on. My date tipped her a verifiable shit ton, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of there. As soon as we got to the car, I was treated to the best sex I had had up until that point. I even almost orgasmed.

What I wouldn’t give to be young and dumb again, am I right?

Champagne Showers is a contributing writer for TSM. She is your typical Northern Diva. If curse words, sexual content, and drug use offend you, then bless your heart. CS will continue living the life you're too scared to live. email her at: champagne_showers@outlook.com

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