Strippers hate me. When at the strip club I refuse to get lap dances. But I am all for good conversation inspired on their end by trying to sell me dances. don’t believe in putting a price tag on a woman or her body as she is a priceless gift given to the world. Turns out the strippers put a price tag on themselves and want ten dollars a song. So no matter what I say, especially on the slow nights – like “you’re better than this” or “let me save you” or “if you want to get naked on the Internet” eventually frustrating each and every one of them, from fat to skinny, hot to monster with ass implants…. making them get up angrily after telling me to fuck off….
Who am I to step in the way of their dreams… forcing me to accept their ten dollars a song and just to help them in life offer 50 dollars for a blowjob. I am a modern day hero. Some call me a hot and less masculine mother Teresa
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