Showing posts with label breast milk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast milk. Show all posts

Mother’s Milk

(Conny’s name has been changed to protect his identity. Russ’ name has not.)

Donny was in Columbus for an insurance seminar and planned to stay an extra day so that we could go out for a few drinks. I enlisted a few buddies and we all met for beer, wings and more beer. A few hours later, the group had whittled itself to just Donny, Russ and me. We decided that it would be best if we continued our manly men evening at a strip club.

We went to a little place called Dockside Dolls and settled in towards the back for our first song and drink. Within minutes, Donny was struck by one of his skull splitting headaches. I am fortunate not to get headaches, but my teeth grind when I observe Donny having one of his. He gave it his best effort, but not even the voluptuous temptations of the nudie bar could keep him there. Russ said he would wait for me while I took Donny back to his hotel.

I drove Donny to his hotel. He apologized, got out and I returned to the club.

While I was gone, Russ had worked his way to the stage side seating. From there, the girls would have the patron stand up so that they could take the dollar bill tip in various interesting ways with various interesting body parts. Russ was no fool.

I pulled up a seat next to Russ, stacked my bills, took a drink and waited for my chance to give away my ones.

A young lady came up on stage and sauntered around for her first song. She came by and relieved Russ and I of a few of our bills. For the second song, she took off her top and made another round. I stood up with my dollar bill so there would be no doubt that I wanted to tip her. She stood in front of me and manipulated her breasts with her hands.

A streak of warm liquid arced from her chest and across my face and chest. I was stunned and she was frozen in place, mouth hanging open, starting at what she had done. She quickly turned and walked to the other side of the stage. I wiped my face… it was wet. I kept standing for a moment and looked at my shirt. Yep. A splattering of liquid. I sat down hard.

Russ hadn’t noticed.

I asked, “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“That girl sprayed milk all over me!”


“From her boob! She sprayed me with milk!” I held out my shirt.

Russ is never at a loss for words. “That’s gross.”

I said good-bye and left.

I was disenchanted. I’m not sure if it was the reaction to getting hit with bodily fluids or the more human reaction that this was a nursing mother who was trying to make ends meet by having ham-handed, asshole guys give her a buck or two to see her shake her tits. I was a bit taken aback by the ordeal and really started to wonder if the audience created the service or if there was service that needed an audience. Was I a bad guy for trading dollars for a look at boobs?

It didn’t do any good. There was no lesson learned. I was thinking about going back before my shirt dried. The only thing that has changed is that I now wear a rain slicker and goggles to the club. It’s the only way to be safe.