It was a miserable Tuesday night. A summer storm had rushed into town from the Midwestern plains, pushing rough winds, heavy rains, and lots of thunder and lightning. I sat beside the small stage in the almost-empty back section of JT’s strip club, watching Vanessa gyrate to Kid Rock’s “Cowboy,” punctuated by the occasional clash of thunder. The weather had kept the place mostly empty that night, and I was the only one at the small, circular stage near the back of the club. The few other guys in the club watched a different girl on the main stage.

I watched Vanessa come up from a crouch with the pole between her large tits, press them together, and begin sliding up and down. She’d danced two songs already and had just enough of a sheen between her boobs to make the pole slide easily. It looked like a brass cock tit-fucking her. I beckoned her to me with a dollar, and she laid in front of me, opening and closing her legs after I tucked the buck into her G-string. She played with her panties— like all strippers do— teasing with what they almost show you.

Vanessa wasn’t teasing tonight, though. As the song ended, she let her hands stray a bit too far and pulled the panties aside to flash me a shot of completely waxed pussy— definitely NOT legal in this state. This was the first time I’d seen it, and she gave me a full ten-second look. It was puffy and pale to match her skin and had a hint of shiny pink just visible in the center.

I had been coming to JT’s for about two weeks since I’d kicked myself out of my usual hangout by breaking up with one of the dancers there. That girl had been doing so much coke that she was acting like Brittany Murphy’s character in Spun and became a major pain in the ass. I didn’t want to switch clubs, but strippers tend to stick together, so I knew I wouldn’t get any action there for a while. JT’s was a nice club with good-looking girls, and it was perfectly located on the other side of town so none of the girls had friends at my old club.

I saw Vanessa my first night there. She stood about 5’6” in heels, with very fair skin, dark eyes, and chin-length, ash-blonde hair. She had a lovely round face and pouty lips, but what really made her stand out were her tits. They were natural 40D’s with just a hint of droop and large pink nipples. The best part about them was the sexy way that they moved when she danced and their incredible softness.

Nobody would say she was fat, but she did have the figure to support those 40D’s. I would guess she was 40-28-38 with a flat stomach and a stripper’s tight ass. She was 31 years old when I knew her and was surprised that I liked her because I was “only” 28 at the time.

I came into the club 4 or 5 times a week for the next two weeks, and worked on getting to know her. She was very cool, smart, and didn’t seem to be as emotionally damaged as most strippers. She seemed to like me a lot and would have been perfect dating material except for her pain-in-the-ass boyfriend who was at the club most nights, sitting at the bar while she worked the room. Makes it kind of hard to give a girl a ride home when her boyfriend is waiting for her.

Nevertheless, I kept working on her. She was a great deal of fun to hang out with and would spend hours with me - as much as she could - without asking for money beyond drinks. (In my experience, that is the prime indicator of whether you have a shot with a particular girl. If all she wants to do is sell you lap dances, money is the only reason she’s sitting with you.)

Even better, when we would go to the lap dancing room for the occasional dance, she was wild. She let me touch and nibble her tits - both against the rules - and once let me touch her pussy discreetly. I hoped to get her away from her boyfriend once or twice and back to my place for a little sex. She’d actually mentioned the prospect to me, saying we should, “run off somewhere and fuck.”

For the last week, we’d been playing an unspoken game wherein she tried to make me cum in my pants by dry humping me and I tried to resist. I love this game and have had great results playing it with other girls in the past. It’s like playing Hard to Get - strip club style. They’re used to guys being all over them and blowing their wad during the first song.

Holding out makes me unusual and interesting. Eventually, they’re trying their best to make me cum during a lap dance, which is really fucking fun. After several nights of their best efforts not working, they’ll come home with me and fuck me for real just to prove to themselves they can get me off.

Monday, she had almost won our little game by reaching up the leg of my shorts to grab my dick. She WOULD have won, but the cameras that watch the lap dancing room kept her from jerking me long enough to get me off.

Tonight, she came down from the stage and followed me back to my table. Thanks to the storm, the place was mostly empty; there were barely more customers than dancers. More importantly for my plans, her boyfriend wasn’t hanging around that night to keep an eye on her. We had been hanging out drinking for about four hours, and she was getting pretty loose - as evidenced by that pussy flash on stage. That stunt would have gotten her fired instantly if the manager, bouncer, or bartender had seen it.