Some time ago in the midst of private messages, I got myself roped into being the object of several ladies' demands for a male stripper. Not exactly an unpleasant prospect. 
So there I am, digging myself ever deeper into a hole with playing along, talking about pole dancing (to be avoided if you're a guy. Just saying), how much gets taken off, who takes it off, and expected tips. And of course the ladies, shameless as they are (but then so am I) keep demanding more.
Which leads to a troublesome scenario: my computer time tends to be in public places. A campus library. A public library. An internet cafe.
Picture this, then: the ladies of the WMD succeed in getting me to do a web cam strip tease for them, at the time of their own choosing. That time just happens to be when I'm in a public space. Well, a bet is a bet. So there I am, turning on some appropriate music. I'm thinking I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt. I've got the webcam on, and I'm up on my feet, letting my hands wander over me as I sway and swivel to the really weird choice of music. The ladies are torn between laughing and leering.
Off comes the shirt, first. It gets tossed aside, landing on the woman working on an essay. Next I'm reaching for my belt. Across cyberspace, salivating is going on. The belt comes unbuckled. I'm grinding and thrusting towards the webcam. Messages flash on the screen. More baby more! Ooo, yeah! Show us some of that! You get the idea. And before I can go any further, campus security show up, and I'm dragged out of the computer lab, before the astonished eyes of numerous onlookers, and the disappointed sighs of the ladies online.
What's a would be stripper to do?
So there I am, digging myself ever deeper into a hole with playing along, talking about pole dancing (to be avoided if you're a guy. Just saying), how much gets taken off, who takes it off, and expected tips. And of course the ladies, shameless as they are (but then so am I) keep demanding more.
Which leads to a troublesome scenario: my computer time tends to be in public places. A campus library. A public library. An internet cafe.
Picture this, then: the ladies of the WMD succeed in getting me to do a web cam strip tease for them, at the time of their own choosing. That time just happens to be when I'm in a public space. Well, a bet is a bet. So there I am, turning on some appropriate music. I'm thinking I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt. I've got the webcam on, and I'm up on my feet, letting my hands wander over me as I sway and swivel to the really weird choice of music. The ladies are torn between laughing and leering.
Off comes the shirt, first. It gets tossed aside, landing on the woman working on an essay. Next I'm reaching for my belt. Across cyberspace, salivating is going on. The belt comes unbuckled. I'm grinding and thrusting towards the webcam. Messages flash on the screen. More baby more! Ooo, yeah! Show us some of that! You get the idea. And before I can go any further, campus security show up, and I'm dragged out of the computer lab, before the astonished eyes of numerous onlookers, and the disappointed sighs of the ladies online.
What's a would be stripper to do?
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