Cowboy Stripper Novels & Stories

For I am dead. "Creed, baby," a soft voice murmurs next to me. I slowly turn my head. The stripper—a caramel-complexioned woman who has silver extensions and glitter on her collarbones—smiles disarmingly. Her costume is functionally a line of rhinestones held in by double-sided tape and hope. She gets on my lap unexpectedly, her body pressed against mine. "You've said very little tonight. Is everything alright? Cat got your tongue or just not impressed?" I must respond. I must act.

There was a second door leading to another room and we stepped in there. There were dangerous looking men sitting around a table. Some strippers were standing beside each one offering different services as the men played the game of cards. Our presence didn't make any difference, we were almost insignificant. My eye quickly caught sight of a man on vintage shirt and cowboy hat. He had an eye pad on, a cigratte stuffed in his lips as he played the game. Then a naked stripper at his feet, though her head was slightly hidden under the table but I could see her head movement and the pleasure groans he made, made me know that she was sucking his dick.

Isla gestured to a waiter and whispered to him. He came back with bundles of cash in crisp dollar notes. They sprayed the money on a stripper. Her ass was darkened with dragon tattoos, shaking and fluffing up and down. Isla slapped the ass, now hyper, sticking her tongue out and dancing like a DJ, rocking the club. She saw a light-skinned man in tattoos, naked except for something that looked like a tiny piece of fabric covering his pubic area. He had a cowboy hat on, with a sexy muscular body. An alpha. And a stripper too. Isla was intrigued.

She was wearing the smallest pair of cut jeans short, a white shirt, a cowboy hat, and brown leather boots. The most beautiful woman I have ever met or maybe noticed. She is not really dancing yet, but I knew she was a stripper. We have them around every Friday night. One of the things we get for paying for the VIP room at the club. However, not one of these strippers has ever got my attention. I did not realize I had stopped halfway when I saw her until my friend dragged me by the arm. "Common man, you don't have what it takes to satisfy her."

I tried keeping my eyes on the stage but they kept sliding back to her thick ass shifting in that chair. Then this tall male stripper with a shaved body and a fat swinging dick started moving straight toward our table. He was stroking his cock slow, hand pumping the shaft up and down so the head swelled shiny under the lights. He danced right up to Laura, hips thrusting, balls hanging heavy as he circled her chair. His cock nearly slapped her cleavage.Laura just sipped more of her whiskey, eyes half closed, lips wet around the glass. She looked horny out of her mind, . She sipped more whiskey, lips wet and glossy, eyes hazy from the alcohol and all the live fucking she’d been watching her pu

Though, she protested against it, Lola didn’t take no for an answer and she squeezed her into the tiny frame. Now, they were leaning against the wall, silently devouring their popsicles in front of a neon-lit strip club sign whose fluorescent glow casted a shadow across the sidewalk. June tilted her head as a question slipped past her lips. “Do you enjoy stripping?” “Yes,” Lola answered without a second thought, making June snap her head toward her in surprise. June asked with a tone of disbelief. “Really?” Lola nodded, licking the top of her ice cream with a carefree smile that almost seemed out of place given the conversation. “Yep, really.”

“Why do they always act like big boobs and an ass are a public invitation? I’m not a free sample. I’m not a limited-time offer. I’m a person who would like to walk to the convenience store without being seen as an invitation.” “Because men are simple creatures,” Nyx said, finally glancing up. Her dark curls were piled into a messy bun that somehow still looked intentional, and she was already wearing her club uniform—black crop top, shorts that barely qualified as clothing, and enough attitude to power a small city. “You could wear a potato sack and they’d still stare. It’s a curse. A sexy, unfair, deeply annoying curse.”

Rolling her eyes, Hazel pushed herself off the chair and started walking out of the cafe they were currently sitting in to talk everything through. Jack's warning was ringing in her ears, making her feel dizzy. Who was he to warn her like this? He did not have that kind of authority. She needed to tell him. She needed to ask him to restrict Jack from talking like this to her. Marching through the streets, she mentally prepared herself for her first show tonight as a stripper at Dream Club. A VIP place where many confidential meetings of big Corporations were held.

RICARDO Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?” I leaned against the door, crossing my arms. “You heard me. Why the hell were you both a doctor and a stripper?" Ryan scoffed, shaking his head. "Because I can do whatever the fuck I want." My brow arched, my lips pressing into a thin line. "You were saving lives by day and taking your clothes off by night? Sounds like a contradiction.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You done prying into my life?”

The person who knocked didn't wait for an answer before pushing the door open. The ladies and guys cheered excitedly as the stripper trouped inside, dancing erotically. The male strippers rounded the couch where the ladies were sitting. One knelt between Abby's lap, held her hips, and whined his waist on her body. Lena laughed and clapped her hands in amusement. She knew Abby wouldn't let him continue that way, and Abby didn't prove her wrong. She switched spots and wrapped her arm around the guy's neck then twerked on his body.