Redditors Reveal – ‘Most Memorable Stripper Stories’ That Prove ‘No Sex In The Champagne Room’ Was A Big, Fat Lie
Chris Rock once told us there is No Sex (In The Champagne Room), but after reading through all of these ‘most memorable stripper/prostitute stories’ that bros shared I’m now certain Rock was lying through his teeth. A thread that elicited over 1,500 comments asked ‘What’s your most memorable experience with a prostitute or stripper?’, and I figured since Monday mornings are typically boring as hell this might be a good time for us all to live vicariously through the wild shenanigans of others.
I don’t want to editorialize this too much, I just want to first say that the nature of some of these stories is obviously slightly NSFW. So just know that you’ll be reading about strippers andprostitution. (via AskReddit)
Was with a hooker in Amsterdam, there is a knock on the door, she get out of the bed, opens the door and talk a bit, comes back with a bag. “Oh that was just my father bringing me my dinner.”
I thought a bit about what I was doing with my life, and decided to stop seeing hookers.
A friend of mine went with a hooker. He started crying because serious reasons. She listened to his story. Tried to help him. She gave him a bj, a night he will never forget and his full money back. She She said “im not a therapist. i dont charge for beein there for another human in need.”
I gotta say, i have huge repsect for her.
I was at a strip club and this stripper flipped upside down, had me put a dollar on her p***y, and then queefed it up into the air. I was quite impressed.
Another stripper at that same club put a dollar in her mouth and it grossed me out so much, I was like I got those bills from here! They’ve probably been queefed all over! You’re a human being, don’t put money in your mouth!
Friend’s bachelor party. Buddy and I went together. He was wearing a baseball cap. Stripper took it and rubbed it on her lady parts. When we returned to the room later that night, as soon as we walked in my girlfriend popped up and said “What smells like fish?” We collapsed laughing for quite some time.
bacehlor party at a strip club. Buddy and I were just talking at the bar when this swamp donkey of a stripper approached us. Full of confidence which I respect, but my first thought was that there’s no way she works at any strip club, and must be a crazy person off the street. I’m talking misplaced blubber in areas I didn’t know were possible, C-section scar, appendix scar, crooked boob job with scars, obviously high on something, noticeable mild body odor, and an accent that I’m guessing to be Ukranian.. just a 360 degree shit show. Respectfully we declined her services but this crazy face was not taking no for an answer. That’s when I directed her attention to the man getting married, sitting in the middle of the club with his back to us in a captain’s style chair. She charged $10 (at least half what others were charging) per dance. I gave her a $100, and pointed out the bachelor. She tried to do something seductive with the bill that I have blocked out ’til this day, and trotted over to the bachelor 20 yards out. I could see the bachelor politely deny her advances. She leaned over and spoke into his ear, and I’ll never forget that moment. Bachelor does a slow head turn and gives my buddy and I a complete death stare, and with the start of the next song the show was spectacular. She.was.a.mess. crawling all over and around him like a dog, tongue whipping in and out of her mouth, failing at all acrobatic attempts, arms in the air tit slapping him, stumbling on him at times… It was cringe. Song after song the bachelor endured, and to keep from repeating her bread and butter techniques, she started to get creative. Her most memorable technique was when she took two adjacent chairs and put them on either side of the bachelor and stood on them, bent over with her ass sky high, and started smacking her ass/vagine against his face and head. The bachelor was completely still, face forward through the whole ordeal like a rigor mortis corpse. People around the bachelor began to disperse to the bathroom or bar, and it was at this point I couldn’t even watch anymore. I knew I should feel bad but I was too busying drowning in tears of joy. Bachelor never really invited me to much after that.
Went to a strip club in Memphis with a bunch of my fraternity brothers in college in the early 90s. Cute little stripper comes over. I buy her a drink, and we chat. She asks me if I want a private dance, and I say sure. It was one for the books. She’s moaning in my ear, blowing on my dick through my pants, the whole 9. She starts unbuttoning my shirt at one point. Under it, I’m wearing a t-shirt from the boarding school where I went to high school. She sees it, and says, “Oh, did you go to __? Do you know Ward __?” And I did. She spent the rest of the song talking about him.
Fuck you, Ward.
I was in Jamaica. My friends and I had rented motorcycles for a few days, so we went to a club a little ways out of town. After, as I was getting on my bike to go back to the hotel, a hooker runs after me, asking for a ride into town. I said OK.
After she got on the bike behind me, it became evident she wanted a ride. I declined politely and she proceeded to get off the bike asked me when I was leaving Jamaica. I told her the following day.
She then proceeded to suddenly turn into an official representative of the Jamaican tourist coucil. She thanked me profusely for visiting Jamaica, told me that she hoped that I had a wonderful time and would come back again and tell all my friends what a wonderful time I had.
I assured her that I had a great time and would tell everyone. With that she headed back to the club, satisfied.
So please, visit Jamaica. Come for the beautiful beaches, stay for the friendly hookers.
At a buck’s night (bachelor party), I was playing pool with one of the strippers and I asked her if she enjoyed her job. She looked around to make sure other staff weren’t within earshot before saying no. I asked her if she had any transferrable skills and she said no, but I pointed out she was likeable, attractive and well spoken, none of which should be undervalued.
We spoke about 30 minutes about what she wanted to do and how she could get there. I can’t remember what job she wanted but she seemed keen on the idea of being a secretary. I told her about two training companies I’d worked for that did great occupational training and she seemed to be genuinely interested. I gave her their numbers. I hope she called them, because she looked so sad as she was dancing on stage after we’d spoken.
Not all strippers are sad, but she was.
One and only experience with a stripper, it was my friend’s 19th birthday and everyone we knew was out of town because it was a week before Christmas. He said he’d never been to a strip club, so we hop in the car and go. We’re immediately greeted by some young ladies, and the lady behind the bar looked like she had clearly been around the block a couple of times. She’s pushing these young ladies on us hardcore. I don’t really like intimacy or talking to strangers, so it was easily one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my life. Well, another friend that was with us needed a ride to the airport the next morning, so he looks at me and says “If you give me a ride to the airport, I’ll buy you 9 songs worth of lap dances.” I had never had a lap dance before so I agreed to it. Well, we go to the back room and instead of running my hands all along her body like a normal person; I hold my hands up and back as far away as possible. About three minutes in she’s like “This is awkward. Do you want to just hold my hands while I do this?” and I do. Two minutes later, “This is even more awkward you can just hold your hands up and away from me if you really want to…”
tl;dr Successfully made a stripper feel uncomfortable with my fear of intimacy.
I was in Vegas around a month and a half ago at The Wynn walking around at 4:30am ripped drunk. I met a girl who had started up a conversation with me, and my dumbass thought she was a “regular” girl just interested in me.
I end up taking her back to my room, we drink a little bit, dance, and hang out for around an hour. To my surprise ,at the time, she starts to tell me what her rate is and my idiot drunk self finally comes to the realization that she’s a prostitute. I tell her I’m not interested in paying for sex and ask her politely to leave, but she still demands that I pay her for her time. I tell her no and she flips her shit and smashes a champagne bottle on the glass-top table and glass flies everywhere. I then told her I was going to call security and she pulls a knife out and tries to cut the phone cord. I freaked out and ran out of the hotel room in my underwear down to the lobby area looking for security. Two security guys follow my drunk ass in boxer/briefs back up to my room and the prostitute is gone.
I spend the rest of the morning explaining to the hotel staff what happened and why there is glass and a broken table-top in my room. I got away only paying $250 in damages, so I guess that’s a win.
Advice: If you’re walking around the B-Bar just outside the Blackjack tables at The Wynn at 4:30am and a girl approaches you to initiate conversation: it’s a hooker.
I was in Baltimore on a work sponsored bus trip with some coworkers and friends for an Orioles game about 15 years ago. My brother also came with us and we arrived in the city hours before the game with plenty of time to kill. We started off with lunch at Hooters and then some of us scoured the area near the inner harbor for a good strip club. The second place we went wasn’t terrible and we ended up bonding with some of the girls.
One girl was particularly friendly and easy on the eyes. She sat with my brother and I and made lots of stripper small talk. At one point she reached into both of our shorts and squeezed our junk at the same time which while enjoyable was odd because she compared our sizes. After quite a few beers I drunkenly offer her a ticket to the game and to my astonishment she tells us that she gets off around game time so she will go with us.
She gets off work, changes into some slutty street clothes and off we went. We get to the game and I have to ask the nice lady from purchasing at our company for an extra ticket since we “ran into an old friend”. She complies and we walk down into the section with the stripper whose outfit makes her appear to be an escort we hired… the looks we got from some of my coworkers were well worth it.
We bought her some beers and hot dogs and we had a great time shooting the shit and enjoying the game. She gave us her number at the end of the night but neither my brother or I ever texted her. Don’t let your dreams die, kids. You too can take a stripper to a baseball game.
This one’s from a lady…
I used to go to the stripper’s fairly often as my wife (then gf) had a friend who was a dancer. This, as well as being another woman, brought me into the wonderful world where the strippers would come and hang out at our table and instead of trying to get us to buy private dances would instead just gossip and hang out with us. They’d share stories about the regulars and what drama was going on at the time, it was pretty excellent.