Lord Long Rod
Diamond Member
- Jan 17, 2023
- 7,706
- 8,122
- 2,138
- Banned
- #1
I never intended to become a male stripper. In fact, I held a lucrative position as a hedge fund manager at Wendigo Portfolio Management, LTD. But when I decided to give it a try on a whim I found that I made a heck of a lot more money stripping off my clothes than stripping pensioners of their Social Security benefits!
See, I was busy one night plowing this chick bent over her kitchen table when her husband came home unexpectedly and caught us in mid stroke. Enraged at the sight of a young, good looking stud with a huge rod banging his smoking hot little trophy wife, this guy pulled a pistol out of his jacket and pointed it at me, saying “You got exactly 2 seconds to live, motherfucker”.
Not taking my eye off this swarthy prick, I took a step back, pulling out of the chick. My giant Hawg leg came out and hit the floor hard with a huge “WHUMP!!” At the sight of my dinosauric wang the guy’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Clearly, he was stunned. He slowly lowered his pistol and put it back into his shoulder rig under his jacket.
He then asked me, “Hey, uh, you want to make a little extra money with that thing, dude?” I replied, “You got the wrong idea, fella. I’m not gay. And my name is not dude; it is Lord Long Rod.” He replied, “That’s perfect!”
The guy’s name was Ahmed Hamas. He was Persian. He explained that he owned and operated an adult entertainment club in midtown that features male strippers. “A dick bar?”, I asked. “Yes”, he replied, “The Throbbing Johnson”. He told me that with my package I could make a fortune stripping there.
As I was getting finished off by Ahmed’s chick I told him that I was just a simple country boy from down south. I grew up on a farm raising chickens and plowing fields (or was it the other way around?). I just happened to come to the big city because I had a knack for ripping people off via securities fraud. What would little old me know about stripping?
But Ahmed assured me that I could handle it. Sensing my apprehension, Ahmed asked, “Do you like cocaine?” I said, “Fuck yeah!! I’m a hedge fund manager!!” We both enjoyed a good laugh. I finished on his chick’s face, then we got down to business.
Ahmed explained the business to me. It was a club strictly for female clients. “I don’t want none of them tranny sexuals ogling my dick either”, I demanded. Ahmed assured me that trannies were not allowed in his club. In fact, he told me that if they catch one in his club they take him upstairs to the roof on the 10th floor of the building and throw him off. “Whew!”, I replied.
So I started stripping the next night. I started making wads of cash immediately. After a couple of weeks I made it to the top of the club performers, even beating out Big Wang Tyrone. There was a little bit of jealousy from the other male strippers. But since I was clearly the cock of the walk, they did not dare give me any shit.
Ahmed insisted on using my real, Christian name, Lord Long Rod, during introductions. He said it “fit” me. After only 2 months I was easily earning $10-15 grand a week. I quit my job at the hedge fund and started stripping full time. It was a great gig! It also led to many very lucrative private gigs, most of which led to wild sex scenes with multiple women at one time. Ahmed was cool about this, which is unusual for a fucking Persian. He let me keep all my side gig money.
However, all good things must eventually come to an end. It all came crashing down due to one particular private gig I was hired for. It was to involve 3-4 chicks and another guy. Now, I don’t do gay stuff. But there was supposed to be a lot of blow there. The other guy was a major coke head!!
I was promptly wired $10,000.00 from someone designated as “The Big Guy”. I thought to myself, “What a pretentious douche bag!” But who cares? The money is all I cared about.
I arrived at the hotel at 11:30 pm. It was already a wild scene. There turned out to be 5 girls, all hot. None of them spoke a lick of English. The guy’s name was Hunter. He was sketchy as fuck and spoke a mile a minute. “Hi buddy!!How they hanging? Ha ha!! Want some blow? We gonna have a good time with these bitches tonight, know what I mean? Ha ha!! Hey look at my dick. Does this sore look infected to you? Ha ha!! Hey, want some coke?!?”, he babbled upon meeting.
There was blow, meth, and booze everywhere. Pretty soon I was balls deep in a drug-fueled orgy. The guy was videotaping the entire scene. It went on for hours, with the stereo blaring Smash Mouth’s “Allstar” over and over and over on an endless loop.
At one point there was a knock at the door. Hunter answered the door, bare-assed. I continued banging this one particular chick named Anna Conda, or some shit. A lot of bad noise started coming from the doorway. Clearly, it was hotel management. Hunter started ranting, asking the hotel folks if they knew who he was. The next thing I know, Hunter had a pistol in his hand and was threatening to kill the hotel people. They quickly withdrew, the door closed, and Hunter went back to fucking the chicks, like nothing had happened. I asked, “Everything ok, dude?” Hunter replied, “A-ok, dude. Why do you ask? Hey, want some more blow?!?”
I noticed that Hunter had a white cocaine mustache, dried blood around his nostrils, wide bulging eyes that were disproportionately black pupil, and a weird tick causing his head to snap back and forth. I was already spent and exhausted. The blow was wearing off. I decided it was time for me to leave. But I had to be discreet because there was no telling what this coked up maniac, Hunter, would do.
I finished off Anna. Then I noticed that Hunter was fucking this broad with his big toe as he mainlined cocaine into his erect dick. Blood spurted everywhere. One girl gleefully went “OOOOOOHHHH!!! That’s so pretty!” I took this as my opportunity to flee. I grabbed my clothes and went for the door, figuring I would get dressed in the elevator.
When I opened the hotel room door I was met with several armed policemen pointing guns at me. “SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!!! NOW!!!!”, they screamed. I complied. 10 of them burst into the room around me. They all rushed to Hunter. “Mr. B!! Mr. B!!! Are you ok?!? Do you need medical attention?!?”, they asked. Then shit got real.
One of the cops asked Hunter if he was being held against his will by “that guy with the huge wang”. Obviously, he meant me. By this time I was lying face down on the floor, with a boot violently pressing down against my neck and at least 3 pistols pointed at the back of my head.
The one cop continued to query Hunter. “Did that man kidnap you, bring you here against your will, dope you up, and force you to have sex with these Russian women?!?” Hunter replied, “Yeah, man. Whatever.” The police then turned all their attention to me.
I thought they were going to kill me. They were trash talking me and kicking me in my ribs while they ushered out the whores and helped Hunter get dressed. One cop said, “I gotta call The Big Guy to see what he wants us to do with THIS piece of shit”. He was referring to me.
As he was on the phone, the other cops were accusing me of being a MAGA terrorist. I was scared shitless. Another cop kicked me and said he had a partner who died at J6. Of course he was lying. No police died at J6.
Finally, the other cop got off the phone. He walked over to me lying there and said, “Boy, you are one lucky little piece of dog shit. The Big Guy does not want us to ice you. That is the ONLY reason you are going to get out of this shit alive.” Then he ordered the other cops to take me to “Rot Bottom Swamp, beat the shit out of me, then leave me “for the gators to clean up”. That is exactly what they did.
I was rescued 3 days later. I had managed to crawl out of that swamp and to the side of a road, where I collapsed. A passerby saw me and offered care. I told him not to call the police or an ambulance. I asked him to drop me off at the next convenience store, or whatever, and I would find my way from there. The driver was quite apprehensive about this, as I was in very bad shape. But he complied with my request.
I had to move and change my name after all this shit. Fortunately, I had built up quite a large nest egg from stripping and whoring. Hell, a little bit of it was from The Big Guy himself. LOL!! After this, I kept my mouth shut and went back to the family farm. The hedge fund I worked for had been shut down by the federal government and my co-workers had all been indicted. So, you know, everything worked out in the end.
See, I was busy one night plowing this chick bent over her kitchen table when her husband came home unexpectedly and caught us in mid stroke. Enraged at the sight of a young, good looking stud with a huge rod banging his smoking hot little trophy wife, this guy pulled a pistol out of his jacket and pointed it at me, saying “You got exactly 2 seconds to live, motherfucker”.
Not taking my eye off this swarthy prick, I took a step back, pulling out of the chick. My giant Hawg leg came out and hit the floor hard with a huge “WHUMP!!” At the sight of my dinosauric wang the guy’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. Clearly, he was stunned. He slowly lowered his pistol and put it back into his shoulder rig under his jacket.
He then asked me, “Hey, uh, you want to make a little extra money with that thing, dude?” I replied, “You got the wrong idea, fella. I’m not gay. And my name is not dude; it is Lord Long Rod.” He replied, “That’s perfect!”
The guy’s name was Ahmed Hamas. He was Persian. He explained that he owned and operated an adult entertainment club in midtown that features male strippers. “A dick bar?”, I asked. “Yes”, he replied, “The Throbbing Johnson”. He told me that with my package I could make a fortune stripping there.
As I was getting finished off by Ahmed’s chick I told him that I was just a simple country boy from down south. I grew up on a farm raising chickens and plowing fields (or was it the other way around?). I just happened to come to the big city because I had a knack for ripping people off via securities fraud. What would little old me know about stripping?
But Ahmed assured me that I could handle it. Sensing my apprehension, Ahmed asked, “Do you like cocaine?” I said, “Fuck yeah!! I’m a hedge fund manager!!” We both enjoyed a good laugh. I finished on his chick’s face, then we got down to business.
Ahmed explained the business to me. It was a club strictly for female clients. “I don’t want none of them tranny sexuals ogling my dick either”, I demanded. Ahmed assured me that trannies were not allowed in his club. In fact, he told me that if they catch one in his club they take him upstairs to the roof on the 10th floor of the building and throw him off. “Whew!”, I replied.
So I started stripping the next night. I started making wads of cash immediately. After a couple of weeks I made it to the top of the club performers, even beating out Big Wang Tyrone. There was a little bit of jealousy from the other male strippers. But since I was clearly the cock of the walk, they did not dare give me any shit.
Ahmed insisted on using my real, Christian name, Lord Long Rod, during introductions. He said it “fit” me. After only 2 months I was easily earning $10-15 grand a week. I quit my job at the hedge fund and started stripping full time. It was a great gig! It also led to many very lucrative private gigs, most of which led to wild sex scenes with multiple women at one time. Ahmed was cool about this, which is unusual for a fucking Persian. He let me keep all my side gig money.
However, all good things must eventually come to an end. It all came crashing down due to one particular private gig I was hired for. It was to involve 3-4 chicks and another guy. Now, I don’t do gay stuff. But there was supposed to be a lot of blow there. The other guy was a major coke head!!
I was promptly wired $10,000.00 from someone designated as “The Big Guy”. I thought to myself, “What a pretentious douche bag!” But who cares? The money is all I cared about.
I arrived at the hotel at 11:30 pm. It was already a wild scene. There turned out to be 5 girls, all hot. None of them spoke a lick of English. The guy’s name was Hunter. He was sketchy as fuck and spoke a mile a minute. “Hi buddy!!How they hanging? Ha ha!! Want some blow? We gonna have a good time with these bitches tonight, know what I mean? Ha ha!! Hey look at my dick. Does this sore look infected to you? Ha ha!! Hey, want some coke?!?”, he babbled upon meeting.
There was blow, meth, and booze everywhere. Pretty soon I was balls deep in a drug-fueled orgy. The guy was videotaping the entire scene. It went on for hours, with the stereo blaring Smash Mouth’s “Allstar” over and over and over on an endless loop.
At one point there was a knock at the door. Hunter answered the door, bare-assed. I continued banging this one particular chick named Anna Conda, or some shit. A lot of bad noise started coming from the doorway. Clearly, it was hotel management. Hunter started ranting, asking the hotel folks if they knew who he was. The next thing I know, Hunter had a pistol in his hand and was threatening to kill the hotel people. They quickly withdrew, the door closed, and Hunter went back to fucking the chicks, like nothing had happened. I asked, “Everything ok, dude?” Hunter replied, “A-ok, dude. Why do you ask? Hey, want some more blow?!?”
I noticed that Hunter had a white cocaine mustache, dried blood around his nostrils, wide bulging eyes that were disproportionately black pupil, and a weird tick causing his head to snap back and forth. I was already spent and exhausted. The blow was wearing off. I decided it was time for me to leave. But I had to be discreet because there was no telling what this coked up maniac, Hunter, would do.
I finished off Anna. Then I noticed that Hunter was fucking this broad with his big toe as he mainlined cocaine into his erect dick. Blood spurted everywhere. One girl gleefully went “OOOOOOHHHH!!! That’s so pretty!” I took this as my opportunity to flee. I grabbed my clothes and went for the door, figuring I would get dressed in the elevator.
When I opened the hotel room door I was met with several armed policemen pointing guns at me. “SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!!! NOW!!!!”, they screamed. I complied. 10 of them burst into the room around me. They all rushed to Hunter. “Mr. B!! Mr. B!!! Are you ok?!? Do you need medical attention?!?”, they asked. Then shit got real.
One of the cops asked Hunter if he was being held against his will by “that guy with the huge wang”. Obviously, he meant me. By this time I was lying face down on the floor, with a boot violently pressing down against my neck and at least 3 pistols pointed at the back of my head.
The one cop continued to query Hunter. “Did that man kidnap you, bring you here against your will, dope you up, and force you to have sex with these Russian women?!?” Hunter replied, “Yeah, man. Whatever.” The police then turned all their attention to me.
I thought they were going to kill me. They were trash talking me and kicking me in my ribs while they ushered out the whores and helped Hunter get dressed. One cop said, “I gotta call The Big Guy to see what he wants us to do with THIS piece of shit”. He was referring to me.
As he was on the phone, the other cops were accusing me of being a MAGA terrorist. I was scared shitless. Another cop kicked me and said he had a partner who died at J6. Of course he was lying. No police died at J6.
Finally, the other cop got off the phone. He walked over to me lying there and said, “Boy, you are one lucky little piece of dog shit. The Big Guy does not want us to ice you. That is the ONLY reason you are going to get out of this shit alive.” Then he ordered the other cops to take me to “Rot Bottom Swamp, beat the shit out of me, then leave me “for the gators to clean up”. That is exactly what they did.
I was rescued 3 days later. I had managed to crawl out of that swamp and to the side of a road, where I collapsed. A passerby saw me and offered care. I told him not to call the police or an ambulance. I asked him to drop me off at the next convenience store, or whatever, and I would find my way from there. The driver was quite apprehensive about this, as I was in very bad shape. But he complied with my request.
I had to move and change my name after all this shit. Fortunately, I had built up quite a large nest egg from stripping and whoring. Hell, a little bit of it was from The Big Guy himself. LOL!! After this, I kept my mouth shut and went back to the family farm. The hedge fund I worked for had been shut down by the federal government and my co-workers had all been indicted. So, you know, everything worked out in the end.
