The World According to JP

Yes, I realize this post will be a little raw, but we make no apologies here at The World According to JP. Besides, it's nowhere near as graphic as Deadwood on HBO (which, if you haven't seen, stop what you're doing and go rent the first season IMMEDIATELY!!).

First. Rock Hill, SC...circa 1989...a strip club called "Emerson's." The strippers were kinda fat, loose, and sweaty. One of 'em was even pregnant and showing. (Her man had apparently neglected to blast her in the gut so she could get back to pulling down the scratch.) We were busting on preggie a little because the idea of fucking some kid's eye socket is pretty gross...still...her tits were huge. She was whoring around us for a few bills, but none of us were about to waste any on her stretched-out flab. Thus, she was getting kinda pissed at our table. Anyway, I was getting pretty drunk, but had another couple minis of Beam in my buddy's car. So I went outside to get 'em, and while rooting around on the floorboard, I found a roll of duct tape. I'm kind of a jackass, and I got a jackass idea, so I grabbed the duct tape, put it in my coat, and went back inside. The talent cycle revolves around again, and before you know it, the sow is back up on the stage jiggling around and bouncing her unborn's head on her thong. She gets a bill from some old blind fuck, then hits the floor to spread 'em for our table and beg some cash. Fucking nasty...I could tell she was having a girl. None of us budged (thankfully, no one puked). She gets up in a huff and moves to the other side of the stage. Plan in action. I ripped off a piece of duct tape, pushed a quarter on it, cupped it in my hand, and headed to the stage with one hand behind my back. She sees me, smiles, and dances over. She's getting ready to pull her thong out so I can slide what she thinks is a dollar bill in between the sweaty polyester and her hamhock. Instead, I motion for and ask her to turn around. She smiles and obliges, bending over a little and shimmying her big ol' ass in my face. I wound up like Nolan Ryan and smacked that duct taped quarter right on her fat ass cheek. She yelped, shoved me, and peeled the tape (which peeled some reddish hair) off her ass. A couple of good old boys took me outside and beat the shit out of me, but not too bad. I coulda sworn I heard Three Dog Night on the way to the parking lot. This was before Rob Zombie took over the sound system of every strip club in the country.

Second. Orlando, FL...circa 1994...a strip club called "Baby Doll's." The strippers are hot O-town hardbodies with perfectly round tits and sweet, seemingly steaming pussies like warm cornbread right from the oven. Drinks are pretty pricey, but the talent is so nice that I don't care. I've got my eye on this scorchingly hot blonde skank - the kind with a body that looks so tight and fuckable that you just ache to treat her like shit. I watch her dance, and decide that a table dance is worth it. She heads off the stage, and is followed by a fairly hot Middle Eastern-looking-chick. They start making the rounds, and I see they are heading my way, but the fucking blonde cuts left instead of right around a chair, and ends up on the other side of my table, where one of my buddies instantly gulps "yes" and forks over some cash when asked if he wants a dance. I stare over at him, my wood already subsiding, thinking I'm fucking next on that shit... Suddenly, a hand turns my chin to look up. It's the Middle-Eastern chick asking if I want a dance. Since I'm sporting a semi with a twenty in my hand, it's pretty hard to say no...besides she's got a nice body. She starts talking while waiting for the next song to start up, and she's got this annoying fucking accent. Turns out she's Iranian and from Texas. What the fuck ever...fine by me because she's kinda gropey. She's patting my thigh and brushing against my now full-on stiffie. I'm fine. Song starts...some White Zombie remix. She gets up and starts into the routine...massaging the knobs...squeezing 'em together...off comes the top, etc. Now, we're getting to the part where she's showing off her nice ass, and putting a foot on my chair so she can angle her love hole a little closer to my face. Very cool...but wait...then I notice it...the unmistakable stench of rotting crab meat. HOLY SHIT. Where is that fucking smell coming from? Is that from...her...pussy? She dances away, and the putrid air fades a little. She turns her ass to me, and bends over to smile at me from between her ankles (a fucking stupid stripper move, by the way...). Naturally, I ignore her face and stare right at her gash, which I cannot help but notice looks like a handful of earthworms are trying to get out of her thong. FUCK. This lady's junk is nasty. She spins around and comes in for another cunt swoop...and her comes the smell. Dude. I can't take it...my eyes are starting to water. But she keeps getting closer. Her cunt cheese is now only a few inches from my face so I start leaning backwards AWAY from it. I'm about to pass out. She leans further in and I think I see some kind of mealyworm. I lean back even further, and my chair is about to go over. She notices, stands back a foot, puts her hands on her hips, and says in a Texan drawl, "Go on honey, it won't bite you..." And like a dumbfuck, I reply,"No, but the smell is about to kill me..." She slaps my face, dumps my drink on my head, and heads straight over to the bouncers. They come get me, escort me outside, and slap me around a little, but not too bad. I took a cab to Thee Doll House and kept drinking.

I guess the morals of these stories from my point of view are as follows:
1 - Don't slap duct tape on a stripper's ass, not even a fat one.
2 - Don't tell a stripper that her pussy smells like rotten crab or looks like worms.
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