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Hi, I'm Princess Pantyless and I'm a sex positive, thigh high boot wearing trapeze artist who strips on the side and doesn't think twice about moving to a commune, or leaving a red brick university to go to Circus school. I have lived all over the world, and I speak six languages. And I'm a FEMINIST. Because I love women, and I love men too.

I’m not normally a stripper, I’m a trapeze artist. But while I studied (two degrees) in London, I worked as a stripper so now I do it when I’m visiting home too. This means I have been doing it on and off, through places like Stringfellows where I was for years through to grungier places in Edinburgh (briefly), for about 6+ years now.

I’m a pro. I know this shit inside out.

But tonight something happened which has never happened before. I orgasmed with a customer. And not only that, it was a customer I hadn’t particularly wanted to dance for. He is a friend of my regular which in itself makes it slightly inappropriate - I danced for him once before, and he is SO into it. Not especially touchy, just really intensely focused and his energy is palpable. Because he knows he shouldn’t ask me to dance he goes in with another girl and asks her to fetch me, so that by the time I’m in the dance room I can’t just walk out. I hate that. So sneaky and we both know it.

So tonight I’m called through and it’s him. I begin to dance and he’s done the classic old man trick - no underwear beneath his suit. I HATE that. I feel his cock push against the entrance to my cunt as though it would enter me. I feel it stimulate an arousal, against my will.  I move myself to a different position so that any rubbing is against the side of his cock and not interactive with my cunt in any way. he puts his arm/hand around my waist and he is solid and bigger and stronger and

I have just been in a different country chasing someone who I thought was a candidate to be the love of my life. We had a month together in a different country and then 4 months apart. The time we just spent together was tumultuous, and I left unclear on what would happen when I move in January to the country he resides in. We had sex which was in many ways great- we discovered an amazing position where I am in handstand with my contortionist back allowing for easy and HIGHLY sexual entrance and pleasure. But I never orgasmed. I was always so hyper aware of him, or our emotional limbo. Emotional disconnect. He’s this 6’5 norwegian adonis, and though I know I’m pretty hot too, somehow he’s much more aloof, much less honest/available/open than me. I’m at an age where I know what I want, but somehow I couldn’t take it/get it from him.

So I wonder if that’s it? I have had a million men, some incredibly young and beautiful, putting their arms around my waist, smelling incredible. Men I want to kiss, to truly fuck, men I feel some chemical connection to. This man wasn’t one of them. And yet his arm around me, and I’m grinding and somehow aroused, and to shelter myself from his cock i cup my cunt with my hand and that spurred me on, and I smell him and he smells of an older generation and he’s cupping my breast which I don’t usually allow but he’s paid £100 so far and shows no sign of stopping, and then he gently tugs at my nipple and I feel the instant ickyness of having someone you don’t want touching you in initiate ways, but then it’s pleasure and I don’t know why and I feel wetness on his trousers and I feel sick thinking maybe he’s come but my fingers tell me it’s me. so I pull any of my wetness away with my hands and grind less intensely, worrying whether he can smell it, whether I am making a mark on his cream khaki trousers. I feel myself aroused, and I feel myself longing for resolution and loathing that he is here, and that it is him, and wondering what on earth I should do. I keep trying to leave to end the dance and he keeps handing me more money and he’s touching my nipple and it feels like ecstasy and I am unsure how to proceed and then I am orgasming, without any penetration or direct clitoral stimulation and it is the same ghostly feeling as a wet dream and it feels just as unreal, and I realise I have to keep dancing - he keeps me for two more songs. 

I am an artist, lucky enough to be having sex with attentive and incredibly hot men. Yet I orgasm with an old man paying me for my body. 

I have danced for thousands of men. I have never even come close to orgasming. 

WHAT THE FUCK.


I know this is very out of the blue, and i should probably have spent more
time thinking about exactly what to say, however, today at home i came
across a very old copy of “A Passage To India” and remembered what i had
forgotten. its been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and a lot has
happened for both of us I’m sure. D- the crux is, I’m writing because I’m
ashamed of the way i acted when we knew each other. i was troubled at the
time, and where men were concerned i was utterly lost for a multitude of
reasons, however i was also just young and feckless and ingracious and
didn’t appreciate any of the things you tried to do because i was so busy
looking in all the wrong places. Now i see that i was wrong, and I’m sorry.
This is so inelequent it’s a joke, though i hope you understand what it is
I’m trying to put across. I’ve been away from E- the past year or so
but I’ve come back and i see you around all the time. I’d really like it if
we could say hi again, I’d love to know how youre doing.

Precious, how are you feeling? I’m not sure how to go about writing this but I’ll just try to get down some things that ought to be said, notwithstanding any irrelevence after last night’s drama. Understand that I love you and think you’re the simply most elegant dream creature. Seeing you at home with your brothers and mother I was moved by the empathy and tolerance you have, never showing a hint of perturbance. Family can be revealing, bringing out the worst, and it made me glad to see your strength of character so deep set. It puts me to shame. I don’t know who I am to you, why you’ll be so vulnerable and trusting with me, why you ignored me the whole of last night between greeting and parting, why you’ll put up with so much from skin-crawl men when not all of us are that horrid really, or why my attempts to reach you seemingly bore you; but know that I’ll be here for you as friend or brother, whichever you feel the call for.

yours undividedly,

D-


This is what my customers think I really look like

This is what my customers think I really look like


lovesugartits:

historystickstoyourfeet:

cute boys ruin everything

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