Like most people that enjoy a good tale of romance, I've read a fair number of erotic stories from the Internet that the authors claim to be true. Of course if some of these stories were actually true, it would mean that the entire world is made up large breasted bisexual women that are completely insatiable and handsome men with 9 inch penises running around fucking every man, woman or child they see. Also in this world every teen lusts after her father, mothers all want to teach their sons how to have sex, not a single person on earth has an old homely aunt, and semen tastes just like fruit juice. I am sorry, but this story that doesn't have any of that stuff in it. This is my true story.
I'm not much to look at. I'm not ugly but I'm not pretty either. Now that I am older I can admit that I'm a bit flabby. When I was younger I couldn't admit any of this, especially to myself. Now I can admit that I have always been shaped different than most girls, even when I was little. I'm not pear shaped or apple shaped. I'm still shaped like a woman. I just am not very toned. Back in high school a bunch of mean girls started calling me GT. It didn't take long before I found out that GT stood for granny tits. I hated that name so bad, but it was true. I got my breasts early, and by high school they were fairly large, but they weren't very firm. They hung down on me like an older woman's breasts.
Along with being shaped different in high school I was pretty awkward, so I didn't date. Let me rephrase that. I never got asked out. But at least in high school I got teased. After high school I just seemed to become invisible. My opportunities to date were less than zero. Men hardly ever looked at me let alone talked to me. I finally got tired of being alone and started forcing myself into social situations. It wasn't dating, but at least I was meeting people. Without doing this I am sure I never would have met my husband.
I met my husband at a renaissance festival and I thought he was the funniest person I had ever met. He and I were a lot alike. We were both socially awkward, and he also didn't have the greatest physique either. He was kind of flabby like me, which I thought would keep him from judging me. I didn't really know him but I kind of knew one of his nerdy friends. So I used that acquaintance to start hanging out with my future husband and his little band of geeks. He never would have noticed me had I not started hanging out with them, so I am glad I took the initiative. We got married three days after my twenty-fifth birthday, and after we got married we started gaining weight. We became a fat couple.
On my twenty-ninth birthday I decided that my husband and I were going to do something about our weight. So I turned to a man I had met who was a self-proclaimed health food and supplement expert for guidance. I got every book and read every label on how to eat healthy and lose weight. With the mix of healthy foods and supplements I actually lost a lot of weight, and my husband lost a good bit of his as well. By my thirtieth birthday I weighed even less than I did in high school. I looked pretty good except for those awful granny tits were back, but now they were even looser than before. I know he didn't mean any harm, but my husband made balloon animal jokes when played with them. It kind of hurt at the time, but the things he said were pretty funny, and it sure beat being called granny tits.
The very best part of my losing weight was that my new found knowledge landed me a job at a health food store. I liked this job. I enjoyed helping people and sharing my knowledge. It was nice that people needed me and I was finally the expert at something. When people were in the store I was no longer invisible. The only down side was that the store wasn't always busy and it had long periods when no customers would come in.
When the store was empty and I had all of the shelves restocked, there was simply nothing to do. At least there was some built in entertainment to watch out in the parking lot. You see this store shared a parking lot with a strip club. When the store was empty I would watch the strip club's customers come and go. There were all kinds of men going in and out of the place. Surprisingly some were even pretty good looking.
As I watched the men I would make up little stories in my head about their naughty exploits in the club. I'd never been in a strip club so I had no real idea what went on in there, but my stories were entertaining to me none the less. My husband hated the fact that I worked across from a strip club. He was afraid that horny men from the club were coming into the store and trying to talk me into having sex or something. I never told him about the little stories I made up about the strip club men. He would have come unglued.
As time went on I started to get more curious about what really went on inside that club. Seeing all those men come and go made me wonder. I wondered if any of my stories could really be true. One day the club put up a new sign that said 'no cover for women'. Hmmm, I thought; free is good. I spent the whole next week trying to decide if I should go check it out or not. I really wanted to go, but if my husband found out I'd be in trouble. That Friday I made a bold decision. After work I went over to the club and went in; all by myself and everything.
The excitement of doing something I shouldn't be doing made me have to pee so I went to the ladies room as soon as I got there. When I came out I found a place in the corner where I could just sit and watch. It was like a different world in there. There were pretty women dressed in sexy lingerie either walking around or sitting with men. Three women were completely naked and dancing on stages, and every one of the three had shaved everywhere. Men sat around the stages staring at the naked women. Every little bit a man would put some money up on the stage and the dancer would climb down in the man's lap and let him grope her for a little bit. Then she would climb back onto the stage and move on to the next man.
When the three naked girls were done dancing on the stages, each would take a man by the hand and lead him off to a doorway marked VIP, where a burly man would take some money before he would let them in. Then three more shaved naked women would take to the stages. Seeing all of this was so strange. My little stories had been so far off. Now I wondered just what was going on in that VIP room. All I knew is that ten or fifteen minutes after going in to the VIP, the dancer and her man would emerge smiling. I wondered if they were back there giving blowjobs or something.
I was there for a good forty-five minutes and no one really seemed to notice I was there. Of course when there were so many beautiful women around, who is going to notice me? As it got more crowded a man came in and sat at the table right in front of me. He was a bit older, maybe fifty, but he was still kind of handsome. He only sat there for a few minutes and a tall blond dancer came over and sat next to him.
They had to talk pretty loud to be heard over the music so I could hear almost everything they said. They briefly introduced themselves and asked each other how their days were going, and they talked about if he had been there before. Then the dancer asked the man, "Do you want to play"? The man said something back to her that I couldn't hear. The dancer then told him he could touch her anywhere he wanted to in the VIP. Then she took him by the hand and led him off to the VIP entrance where the burly guard took his money and let them in. It all seemed really simple.
It was getting late and I had to go. I didn't want to be home so late that I would alarm my husband. As I drove home I couldn't get over what I had just seen. That night I sat in bed to read but I couldn't stop thinking about all those men ogling and groping the dancers. I am sure the dancers didn't see it this way, but I thought that they were so lucky. They were all born pretty, had nice bodies and every man in that club wanted them. None of them had to go through life being invisible. None of them had to be someone like me. The more I thought about it the more I wanted to be like them. I wanted men to look at me and want me the same way the men wanted those strippers. I thought about how it might feel to be touched by so many strangers. All that thinking got me so turned on that I put down my book, and woke up my husband to have sex.
Over the next few months I started paying more attention to the dancers coming and going from the club than the men. I started wanting to be like more them. I wanted to be one of them. I thought about working there, but knew I didn't have the body for it. One evening I took a bold step and shaved my pubic hair like theirs. It felt so different and I have to admit it was an improvement over my normally ratty looking bush. I told my husband that it was an all-natural hygiene recommendation from the store. It was a wasted lie. He had barely even noticed that I did it. In the weeks after I started shaving, I secretly shopped for sexy stripper looking underwear and wore them when I was alone at home. I would look at my new outfits in the mirror and try to dance like the strippers. I think I actually looked kind of sexy dancing in my little outfits. Once I had a little collection of sexy bras and panties, I shopped for a couple of reveling outfits to go over the top of them.
Eventually I started wearing one of my more subdued sexy stripper outfits to work. My husband didn't seem to notice when I left wearing it and no at work seemed to notice either. It's not like we had a stream of men walking through the health food store to look at me like there was over at the club. In fact, almost all of our clientele were older self-absorbed women that used to be hippies. I started wearing the outfit more often, and every day I did I sat there hoping someone would notice me being sexy.
