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The Time My Roommate Took A Stripper Home From A Bar

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I published a story last week about a couple in Brooklyn that ran into some trouble for having really loud sex, and it reminded me of the time my roommate took a girl home and woke me up at three in the morning because I thought someone was being murdered, so it’s story time…

My roommate, John, and I go to a bar that’s a block and a half from our apartment. This is the bar you go to when you’re underage, because they don’t give a shit, yet it’s somehow still open to this day. John was a former employee of this bar as well, so comped shots of well whiskey weren’t uncommon.

It had been a while since we’d been to the bar, as we’d been 21 for a couple months, thus putting us two years above the average customer’s age, but we thought it was time to pay the place a visit. There were a couple new girls who had become regulars since our last outing there, and they were being annoying sluts, asking for free shit from the bartenders, like annoying sluts tend to do.

John and I are minding our own business, getting drunk for no reason. Then one of the girls, Lindsey, comes and sits next to John. She’s no dime, but she’s got a rocking body. Face left quite a bit to be desired, but pussy ain’t got no face, right? God, I’m sick.

“Hey,” she says.

Now John isn’t the most “natural” guy when it comes to talking to girls. He gets his fair share of ass, but if he has too much alcohol in him, it’s painful to watch. Luckily for him, he wasn’t plastered yet.


“Let’s take a shot, I’ll buy them.”

Pretty much from that point forward, I knew this girl was going to fuck someone that night. Didn’t matter who it was, she was getting laid. When do you ever see a girl buy shots for a dude? This chick was determined.

They continue to talk while I’m sitting a couple seats away chatting with the bartender, giving my boy his space, and I see her touch his leg. She then says, “Wow, your legs are so soft.” Keep in mind, he’s in stereotypical fratstar 5-6 inch inseam shorts and now she’s running her hand up and down his hairy-ass legs, inches from his dick. Then she puts her face on his leg. From a distance, it looks like she’s giving him a blowjob in a bar (not unheard of at this reputable establishment, might I add). John just looks at me with bewilderment and gives a shrug as if to say, “What the fuck is up with this girl? She seems pretty weird.” Weird ended up being an understatement.

I decide to leave and head back to our apartment. They stay and keep talking. Obviously, from this point on, everything I recount is in John’s words, as I wasn’t there, and don’t watch my friends fuck random girls from dive bars.

It gets to a point where she turns to him and says, “We should leave.” Remember how I said John wasn’t the best at talking to girls, and clearly he’s not good at taking hints? Yeah. He knows that, too. He pauses…

“Like, you and me? Leave? Together?”

“Yeah,” she said back.

“Uh, my place? I live like a block away.”


They get back to our place and go to his room and start doing typical foreplay shit. Makeout, some oral, then he starts reciprocating half-heartedly. I think we would’ve all assumed this girl was a freak based on her behavior at the bar, but what she said next caught my buddy pretty off guard, and when he told me, I was caught off guard too.

“Bite it.”


“Bite it!”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t…” she just shoves his head down. He did it. Against his better judgement, he bit her there…and she loved it. If I were John, I would have put an end to that shit right then. This is the kind of girl that’s likely to stick a finger in your ass unannounced.

Regardless, he straps on the last of his immediately available condoms and they go at it. Remember the anecdote about her rockin’ body? It was only half true, because she was wearing a mega push-up bra. Once she was naked, them titties were sub-par at best.

But anyway, one minute in, she’s screaming with pleasure. “How? We just started. There’s no way she’s got to this point in her sexual excitement this quickly,” John is thinking.

Once again, John is caught off guard. A combination of that, her disappointing breasts and the whiskey in his system, John’s johnson decides to quit on him. He tries to play it off like it’s nothing, and he’ll be good to go in a couple minutes, as he should, but she’s clearly disappointed in his limp, lifeless genitals.

He goes to the bathroom with the excuse of taking a piss but only gives himself a pep-talk. After he walks back into his room, she’s laying on his bed, head on a pillow, and she says to him, “Fuck my face.”

Not a request. A motherfucking order.

So he did. He tells me the next day, “It’s fucked up, but that got me full mast again and then I was ready to go.” I sure know how to pick ’em when it comes to friends, eh?

As I said, John had no more condoms. So he goes raw for round 1.5 which was probably not the best of choices given the information we gather about her the next day, but it luckily didn’t come back to haunt him.

However, again, once they’re at it she’s screaming like she’s being murdered, but in an oddly pleasurable way. This is what wakes me up at 3am. I’m in my room having to listen to this shit. It sounded like she’d watched way too much hardcore porn and assumed this is how girls are supposed to act during sex.


Despite being irritated that I had been rudely awakened, I started laughing. All by myself, I’m cracking up because I’m basically listening to the soundtrack to a Brazzers video. For all I know, John could have just been blasting porn on his stereo. That’s how ridiculous she sounded.

They finally finish and she leaves. What prompted her to leave early? Well, she was 27 and John was 21. She found this out after they banged. Her actual words were, “Are you fucking serious? I just fucked a 21-year-old?” What was she doing at a bar across the street from a university campus if she wasn’t trying to bang younger dudes? Let alone a bar that is notorious for underage patrons? I couldn’t tell you.

The next day, I naturally confront John on the banshee screams that came from his room that night, and he told me everything I just told you. We go back to the bar a few days later and ask one of the bartenders we were close with who she was.

What was her deal? Why does she like weird shit in bed? He said none of the staff knew, really, but that she just came around all the time and spent a shit-ton of money. She never spoke about having a job, yet still had all this cash. The owner was adamant she was a stripper. He stated it as fact; he just didn’t know where she danced. My theory is that she was an escort, and for one night wanted to fuck a guy SHE wanted — for free. Stripper seems more likely though, because why wouldn’t you get paid for sex if you’re of the moral consciousness that it’s okay to get paid for sex to begin with?

John, you raw-dogged a stripper on her night off. Reassess your life.

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Fratrick Kane 88

You probably don't want to split a cab ride with me.

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