Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
I wanted to grab Cassie’s hand and run as fast out of our damn hotel room as I possibly could. And I didn’t care where we ended up. Magic Mark and Emma Bone could fluffing reenact You Got Served and have a fucking stripper dance-off in our suite for all I cared; I just didn’t want Cass or me to be there for it.
Miss Bone, though, well, she was either completely apathetic or unaware of my terror, and she placed both of her hands on my shoulders, shimmying her pastie-covered breasts near my face.
Discreetly, I turned my head to the side, but when I did that, I spotted Magic Mark thrusting his hips toward Cass, and his floppy dick was doing some sort of break-dancing move in mid-air.
Fuck. I was wrong. This wasn’t hell. This was worse than hell.
Satan wouldn’t even subject his biggest enemies to this.
Emma Bone released her hands from my shoulders, turned around, and started twerking her ass in the air.
“You like that, big boy?” she asked, but there was no fucking way I was going to touch that question with a ten-foot pole.
I mean, what could I say? Um, no, Miss Bone, I am not a fan of any of this fluffing craziness. I’m legit weirded out, and for a guy like me, that’s saying a lot.
Not only would I have offended the stripper, but Cassie might’ve lost her shit.
So, I just pretended I didn’t hear the question and did like a half nod, half shake of my head that absolutely no one in the room would’ve been able to translate. Not that anyone could’ve translated anything in that room with the smoke and fucking strobe lights putting us all at a lung inhalation and seizure risk.
Emma leaned forward even more, and from between her thighs, she flashed a coy look at me. And then she went down into the splits where she could showcase more of her twerking abilities.
Which, truthfully, wasn’t too bad.
I didn’t have to watch Magic Mark and his acrobatic dick.
And Emma kept enough distance from me that I didn’t feel uncomfortable.
If anything, it felt like watching a video on YouTube.
Okay. Okay. If it stays like this, I might be able to survive it.
The realization came as a relief.
I even found myself starting to bob my head to the music when it switched back to a sultry R&B song.
But my comfort only lasted so long.
“Okay! Time to switch!” Cass exclaimed, and I furrowed my brow.
“Switch?” I questioned. “What?” Are we supposed to fluffing strip for these goddamn strippers? There is no way Magic Mark is going to see my wife’s tits.
“Emma Bone dances for me, and Magic Mark dances for you now,” Cass explained, and that fucking bastard Magic Mark was already hopping on the task before I could offer another option. You know, like, thanking them for their service and asking them to leave.
It wasn’t that I had anything against male strippers.
It’s just that the only dick I wanted near me was my own.
I was a fan of pussy through and through—my wife’s pussy, to be specific—and I had no desire to feel or see what someone else’s dick could do. I knew Magic Mark’s dick had some serious tricks up his sleeve, but I didn’t care if his cock could pull a fucking rabbit out of his hat, I didn’t want to be an audience member in his magic show.
But Magic Marky Mark and His Funky Skintight Underwear came thrusting toward me, and his dick flailed around inside its red Speedo-style thong constraint like it preferred to live life on the edge, instead of held down by spandex and cock rings.
Every second that passed felt like a miracle that Mr. Magic’s schlong stayed incognito.
When I glanced to my right, I noted that Emma Bone and my wife were getting along just fine and dandy. Completely bent over, the female stripper showed off her best hip shimmies while Cass spanked her ass and shoved dollar bills into her G-string.
Where the fuck did she get dollar bills?
When Magic Mark bent over and started to mimic the same moves as Emma, I tried to suck it up and be nice to the stripper man. I mean, he was just here trying to do a fluffing job, you know?
I grabbed some dollar bills from Cassie’s stack, shut my eyes, and channeled my best childhood pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey focus and carefully slid a few bucks into Mr. Magic’s red underwear.
But, unfortunately, that only seemed to embolden him further, and before I knew it, Magic Mark started to move his ass closer to me, backing it the fuck up with every thrust-twerk move.
The closer and closer and closer he got, fear clutched my balls so tight, I swear to God they packed their shit right up and relocated to my stomach for good.