How A Rush Event Got Me A Blow Job From The Midget Stripper

The Therapist10 years ago

I’m just going to come right out and say it: I have a stripper problem. I love everything about them — the way they look, the way they dance, even the way they strip money from my wallet. (Deep down, something tells me it’s not really about the money and they actually care about me.) I’m not ashamed to express my affinity for girls who are just trying to pay their way through college without accumulating a mountain of student debt. Can’t knock the hustle, right?

When you have a stripper problem, as is the case with most problems, there are good times and there are great times. This particular stripper story definitely falls into the latter category.

It was the summer of 2012. My pledge brother Andrew was rush captain, and I was spending my days gambling online and partying at night with potential rushees. To be honest, I don’t even remember if I had summer classes. If I did, I wasn’t going. I was living the American dream. It was the perfect setup. Andrew would plan the night out, and I would fund it. With formal rush right around the corner, the time had come to plan our biggest rush event of the summer.

While out drinking at our favorite bar one evening, we began discussing strippers. Andrew was set on using the same two strippers we had hired in previous years. I, on the other hand, felt like we had taken water from that well one too many times and needed to try something new. Two mildly attractive middle-aged women working a double-sided dildo while rushees chanted, “Ass-to-ass!” just wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

A little Google search brought us to a local website that appeared to be designed by a preschool student, so we knew this company was legit. Andrew immediately picked out a brunette who had perfect tits. I then saw the most glorious thing I had ever seen on a stripper menu: a little person. Full blown midget. No way we weren’t getting this midget stripper. She was perfect.

When booking, we were told to not get too handsy with these girls because they’re not prostitutes. When you tell me not to do something, I view it as a challenge and will most likely do it. Remember this for later.

The hours leading up to the party felt like days. The strippers arrived around roughly 11 p.m., and as soon as the little one stepped (read: jumped) out of the vehicle, my eyes glazed over with happiness. She was glorious — everything I had dreamed and more. I immediately imagined how big my dick would look in her tiny hands. Andrew escorted the regular-sized girl to the basement and told the little woman that she was going to come in second. What he didn’t know was that I had already planned a grand entrance for our little friend.

This is where things got a little out of hand. I had one brother dim the lights and start playing the theme from The Lion King. As the song began to play, I walked down the stairs carrying all three feet of this girl, holding her up high for everyone to see, just like Rafiki did with Simba. The crowd went wild.

She was a huge hit. As she was strutting her little stuff all over one of the guys, I got the idea to ask for a blow job. Remember the whole handsy warning? That policy was about to fly out of the fucking window. I immediately kicked whoever was in the chair out and started to get a dance from her. While she was dancing, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “How would you like a bigger payday?” while she was grinding up on me. She winked and nodded. It was on.

While the second stripper entertained the rest of the party, I snuck the fun-sized candy up to my room. As soon as my door closed, I started to unzip my pants, but she stopped me.

“Cash first,” she said. “$100, big boy.” Capitalism, gotta love it.

She went to town on me. I’m talking about full-on slobber mode. The blow job had everything: a perfect combination of hand strokes with sucking. She did this sort of pop thing with her mouth on the head. Damn, if that wasn’t one of the greatest things I’ve ever felt. She had every detail down to fondling the balls. I was in midget blow job heaven.

At one point during this whole ordeal, she got her little finger and started tickling my asshole — something I would usually be opposed to, but her finger was so tiny that it was barely noticeable. I’m not going to delve too much more into this blowie, but let me just say that if you ever have the opportunity to let a midget play with your pooper, live a little. Totally worth it. You will not be disappointed, and you will almost certainly feel like twice the man you actually are.

Overall, it was probably the best blow job I’ve ever gotten, or at least the most memorable. And yes, her tiny hands did make it seem like I was a lot bigger than I really am. Talk about an ego boost. She even swallowed. God bless her..