The only sound he heard was the blood rushing in his head. The only things he saw were the g-strings and legs of whoever was dancing in front of him.... The laughing, abusive men were just background players in a movie: a movie starring Wendell as the man taped to the stripper pole with the everlasting erection. His erection was his best friend lately. It certainly wasn’t reason. Reason, and it’s running buddy, logic, had abandoned him. If it was up to them Wendell would’ve never come to. While he expected heat, there was none. What he felt was his cock being pulled inside her and the contractions of her tight tunnel. She moved with the grace of a dancer. He could see her on him, but she felt weightless. He tried to bring his hands to her hips, to control her movements, but she waved them away. She glared at him and hissed, while increasing her speed. If you saw her, you would have compared her to a jockey riding to win a race. He cried out as her nails dug into his chest and. More

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