Hot stripper sex starts the moment I slip into the champagne room and feel his eyes lock onto me. He always comes back. Always pays more. Always wants me messier, hungrier, and completely under his spell. I know exactly what I am to him, and I lean into it hard.
I move slow on purpose, letting the silence stretch, letting him watch every inch of me while dropping to my knees giving him the best blowjob his wife could never give him. I whisper just enough to keep him hooked, letting him think I’m his dirty little nigger slut, the one he can’t resist, the one no one else could ever give him like I do. I love the way that look crosses his face when I tease, like he’s helpless for me tonight.
The lights stay low and tension coils thick in the room. A glass of whiskey sweats on the table while I edge closer, letting him burn on every move. I proceed to gobble up his cock down my throat as i stoke him slowly but swiftly, letting him feel the full pull of my hunger and submission. I know exactly how to make him ache without giving it all away, how to leave him desperate for more every time he sees me.
He tips reckless, desperate. I twist the anticipation, hold him on the edge, and watch as he crumbles under the tension I create. Every smirk, every flick of my hair, every whispered tease keeps him coming back, craving the chaos only I bring.
By the time the night ends, he’s spent more than he expected, and I’ve left him thinking about me with my tits dripping with his sticky cum, replaying every look, every word, every subtle motion.
That’s how I like it. Wanted. Paid. Remembered.





















