Remember FastSize
from my August Post? They caught wind of my site and gave
me a $50 off discount code to purchase the product. There
is a limit of 10 purchases available with the code, so
use "stile" at checkout.
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| So sexy! |
Water tap orgasms. |
Holy fucking squirt! |
Best pool player ever. |
This is how you were conceived. |
Sealed for freshness. |
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| Gaping black hole. |
Marry me, Kate? |
Unlucky. |
German Freak Porn 1 |
German Freak Porn 2 |
German Freak Porn 3 |
Click
here for porn vids. |
Check out the Stile Project archives: March
/ April / May
/ June / July
I asked the lovely
Helle
from Camwhores if she would write up some stories about
what it's like working in a strip club. Little did I know how
insanely fucked up they would be. You should also check out
her site.
She
has really nice tits.
The
Sweet Taste Of Vomit - By Helle
As a professional stripper, the first question I often get
asked is 'tell about the nastiest customer you have ever had."
People are always voyeurs at heart and they always want to
vicariously live their exotic dancer fantasies through the
horrible stories I am able to regal them with.
And I could tell you the tale about the customers who offered
me money to kicked them mercilessly in the balls. Or the customer
who wanted to be willingly lead around the club a leash. Or
even the customer who wanted to see if he could stick the
end of his fountain pen through my nipple piercings. But the
worst one is the story I am about to relay to you.
Ranjeet seemed like an average, high spending customer. He
was of Indian descent with a high priced platinum wedding
band and an eight hundred dollar three piece suit. He sat
on a seat in the darkest corner of the club, lovingly called
the 'jack off seat' by fellow dancers, and ordered tall shots
of scotch on the rocks.
Being the total hot piece of ass that I am, I was the first
to approach and, eventually, talk him into buying one of our
clubs high priced champagne rooms. But before the tab was
signed, he leaned in and whispered into my ear "there's
a catch."
Isn't there always...?
He asked me to discreetly take a champagne glass and go into
the restroom. Once there he wanted me to vomit into the glass
and then quietly bring it back into the dance room. Once the
delivery was made, I could go back onto the floor and do my
job. Pretend I had never met him and had vomited into a glass
for him. Go about my business.
And meanwhile, he would consume the glass of stripper puke.
This guy was fucking nuts. This man had what may be the weirdest
fetish I have ever been asked to do. This guy was willing
to pay five hundred dollars to drink my vomit. And would I
be willing to do it, even for that fee?
Hell yes!
I ordered a tall shot of 151 rum with his money and swished
it into my mouth to induce vomit. When the deed was done,
I took it back to him. I was topless. My breasts were heaving,
my vagina wet with the anticipation of dancing, my thighs
taught and tight from my six inch stripper heels...
... And this man drank my vomit. Smiled. Left a fifty dollar
tip on the champagne split and promptly left with a hard on.
Only at the strip club, I tell ya.
