You walk in looking so nervous, I immdiately reassure you, that it's okay, no pressure at a ALL to buy a dance. You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I can see you’re not the typical strip club guy. You seem so sweet and innocent. “Have you been feeling a little bit hustled all evening? A dance with someone as sweet as me is fine; you don't even have to feel guilty about it, I clearly enjoy my job! I guide you to sit back and relax while I ease onto your lap. “Just relax… that’s it. Good boy.” My voice gets softer, slower, pulling you deeper. I tell you to breathe with me, nice and deep, until your mind starts to drift and everything feels hazy, my eyes becoming even more captivating, you swear they look like heart spirals, but that couldn't be true ... You start seeing my hand wrapped around your cock, stroking you so good. Then you feel me pulling my panties aside and sliding down onto you, riding you slow and tight, my big tits bouncing right in your face. But is it really happening? Or is it just in your head? The more you try to figure it out, the more confused you get. You feel so guilty for getting this hard, so you have to make it right. You have to send me everything in your wallet and more. You need to empty your account to make up for how desperate you are right now. You can’t tell what’s real anymore. Am I actually fucking you, or am I just robbing you blind while you sit there blank and leaking? Either way, you keep paying because it feels so good to give in.
