It's been a long week. Two lawyers with wedding bands around their fingers tried to hit on me. One client looked down my blouse while his wife stood beside him. And to top it all off, my 45-year old boss casually hinted that his wife was going to be gone to some sort of symposium next weekend. Like I'm going to fool around with a 45-year old man! Dream on! It's been a long week and I am glad for it to be over.

Lucky for me, I have something to look forward to for the weekend: A night on the town with my girlfriend, Stephanie. I stand in front of the law office of Sampson & Langstrum to wait for her.

I hear her little red car squeal around the corner before I see it. It is easy to pick out her Porsche against the headlights of the other cars as it turns the corner, accelerates to about 50 in the first quarter-block, and then squeals to a stop at the curb at my feet. She's late, as usual, but then so am I.

"Hey Sharon!" Stephanie shouts over the sweet whine of the high revving engine. "Are you ready to party it up or what?"

"I'm ready," I hop in. "Every girl needs a good strip joint once in a while."

"You said it!"

A gas guzzling Mercedes comes up from behind and gives us the horn, the driver pissed because Stephanie stopped in a lane of traffic to pick me up.

"Screw you!" She yells out the window and then hits the gas. I am forced into the back of the leather seat before my butt has a chance to sit down.

"We're late," She says. Stephanie is always late. "We gotta get there before eight or they will close the doors behind us."

The car accelerates forward and then squeals to a stop only a few hundred yards further down the street. I've learned Porsches in downtown LA are a waste. With all the people and the traffic, it is difficult for the car to show its true self. Stephanie is either full on the gas or the brake most of the time, but then that's the way she lives her life.

"What did you call this place again?" I ask.

"Shooters!" She reminds me. "It's a male strip joint down in Torrance!"

"Shooters?" I question. "Sure you're not confused with that other place? You know, the one with the tight t-shirts?"

"No way!" She says. "I'm positive. You'll see once we get there."

"Never heard of it," I shrug my shoulders. "But as long as they have cock, it doesn't matter.

Stephanie laughs. "Hard day at the office?"

"Hard week," I tell her. "Especially after the way all those jerk lawyers treat me at work." And then I add under my breath, "Bunch of male chauvinist jerks!"

Stephanie laughs some more. "In that case, you're really going to love this place! Shooters is the best male strip joint in town."

I believe her. When Stephanie says it's the best, it usually is. She's been all over. I've known her for six months and continue to be amazed at the width and breath of her experience.

I met her the first week I moved to California. I was sitting along side the pool at my apartment; clad in a tiny blue bikini and trying to get a tan on my snow white, Midwestern body. Stephanie's first words to me were a question: "Hey, are those tits real or the best boob-job I've ever seen?" I remember her words precisely because they so much amazed me. I couldn't believe a total stranger could be so bold.

Stephanie amazed me many more times since them. One of her more appealing interests was male strip joints. I never went to a strip joint before I met her. I heard rumors about them, of course, but I never seriously considered going to one. I don't think male strip joints existed where I grew up.

The light turns green and we move forward. The traffic, if anything, turns more congested as we try to make our way to the freeway. Stephanie switches lanes one way and then back the other in an attempt to make progress, but I don't think we travel any faster than anybody else.

"We're never going to make it!" She worries.

"Then we'll just be late," I attempt to calm her. Her driving makes me nervous. I would rather be late than in the hospital.

"You don't understand," She shakes her head and switches to another lane. "This isn't your normal male strip joint! It's a very exclusive place. If we're not there before eight, we don't get in."

We reach the freeway, but the freeway isn't much better. As usual, the Harbor Freeway is bumper-to-bumper. Stephanie quickly makes her way over to the left most, fast lane; but it moves no faster than any other.

"Hey hot mommas," I hear someone yell to my right in a heavy Hispanic accent through my open window. "Wanna come to party tonight?"

I see an old Volkswagen bug crawling along side us. By the way it looks, I think it has trouble keeping up to the 20 mile-per-hour traffic. Two young men sit inside. They look like they might be driving home from garbage detail. I can't tell if the driver has a tan or if he just looks dark from all the dirt.

"We would, but you're dicks ain't long enough," Stephanie leans across my lap and yells back at them. "You hombres wouldn't know what to do with us."

The driver yells something back, but I can't make it out over the sweet whine of the engine. The pickup trunk in front of us moves over. Stephanie quickly takes advantage of the opening to move ahead.

"I don't believe you said that!" I feel my face glow red with embarrassment. "You probably just pissed off two gang members with an arsenal of guns in the back seat."

"Oh, don't worry," Stephanie shrugs it off. "They love it. They'll be bragging to their friends later tonight about how they tried to pick up two hot chicks in a Porsche."

I am not nearly as confident and have to check on the Volkswagen to make sure. It already sits several car lengths behind and two lanes to the right. I see the driver's hand out the window trying to motion for someone to let him in.

"We just might make it," Stephanie has already forgotten about the incident. "Looks like it's picking up."

I see the traffic move faster in front of us. We pick up speed, slow down again, and then pick it up once more. Stephanie drives, naturally, in the fast lane the entire way. She quickly leaves the Volkswagen far behind.

I feel funny going to a male strip joint. I used to think only undersexed middle-aged women went to see naked men strut their stuff on stage. Stephanie and me are too young to be doing such a thing, both in our early 20s, and we certainly are not undersexed. I don't mean to brag, but we are both quite attractive and get laid on a regular basis.

I am a short, petite, oriental girl with a pretty face and a well-proportioned body that seems to attract men like flies. Sometimes, in fact, I think I attract a little too much attention, which is the main reason I moved to California. Take my old boyfriend, Jimmy, for instance. I liked him at first, but he eventually turned out to be a real nut case. He was young, good-looking, and a dream date for most girls. He used to play quarterback on the High School football team and was soon going to graduate from the local technical college. Jimmy might not have been all too smart, he looked handsome enough to have any girl he wanted.

It was great, that is, until he got involved with drugs and went a little crazy. His whole personality changed. I didn't know who he was, and I don't think he knew himself. Anyway, I eventually had to break off the relationship, but that only made him go crazier. He started calling me every night and harassing me at work. And then one night in a drunken rage he said he was going to kill me if I didn't come back to him. I could no longer handle it and left!

The last I heard, Jimmy was still alive but in jail for robbing some pizza joint to support his drug habit. Meanwhile, I took advantage of the opportunity to get away. I always wanted to visit Southern California, so that's where I went.

I guess the reason I like strip joints is because it gives me the opportunity to get back at all the old boyfriends and all the horny young men in Volkswagens. I'm constantly getting harassed at work. I don't mind it from the young studs. In fact, I like it when a handsome young man walks up to flirt with me. But my 45-year old married boss makes me sick. He should know better! I mean I'm young enough to be their daughter! Sometimes I think the only reason he hired me as his receptionist was because of my looks. I was born with natural good looks, and I don't say that just to brag or to sound like I'm some stuck-up bitch. My father emigrated from Singapore and my mother from Hawaii. The combination of genes produced a short girl with long, jet black hair; slanted eyes; and a natural tan. I also keep my body in shape by eating healthy and running every night. The result is a trim, 110-pound body with a cute little face on top.

Stephanie has similar problems, but she invites it. I think she even likes it. She's a tall, feisty looking red head with fakes. Her parents - unbelievably - paid for her to get a boob job for her 16th birthday. She told me just after she complimented my own tits at the pool. It never ceases to amaze me at how different Stephanie had it growing up in California than my experience in Iowa. I mean her parents actually paid for her to get a boob job! Unbelievable!

"We might just make it," Her tone becomes more positive as she passes one car on the left and the next one on the right. I'm afraid to respond; worried I might take her attention away from the road. Traffic really picks up after we pass the 105 exchange. With Stephanie behind the wheel, it does not take long to make it from downtown LA to Torrance.

We enter a part of the city I was told to avoid. A few miles to our left is Compton. Straight ahead is Harbor City and eventually the Pacific.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" I have to question. I would expect a strip bar in Hollywood -- not Torrance.

"Positive!" Stephanie answers confidently. "This isn't an ordinary strip joint we're going to. They change location about once a month to avoid the cops."

I begin to question my decision to join her. "Cops?" I have to ask. "What kind of strip joint needs to worry about Cops? And I never heard of a strip joint that has to change locations!"

"This one does," She tells me. "You'll understand once we get there."

We exit off the freeway to an area of town I've never been in before. Industrial buildings and warehouses surround us. Stoplights again appear. The road becomes wider and rougher, but we share it with an equal number of 18-wheelers and cars. This doesn't look at all like the part of town that should have a strip joint.

"Look for Western," Stephanie instructs. "We have to take a right at the first turn after Western."

"I thought you said you've been here before," I argue. "Don't you know the way?"

"I said I've been to shooters before, but it was in a different location the last time."

I start to feel disappointment. The clock on the dash reads 7:50. I see nothing resembling a bar for miles around. I worry we are not going to make it.

Suddenly, Stephanie turns. "You missed Western," She scolds me. "This is the street!"

We take a right down an alley. At the end of the street I see an awning and a red carpet. Two men in tuxes - valets, I assume - wait for us. Beyond I notice a fenced parking lot full of many expensive cars.

"We're here!" Stephanie announces.

"This is weird," I have to comment.

The valets open the car doors for us. I notice both are handsome and shirtless, indicating this is the right place. Stephanie eyes her's and then tosses him the keys. "Take good care of it, boy!" She instructs.

I step out onto a red carpet. It leads under the awning and then into the building. The building looks just like all the other buildings, nothing more than a warehouse or maybe a small factory.

"This is weird," I have to say again.

"Stephanie!" I hear a woman's voice yell out from the entrance. "Oh Stephanie! Glad to see you again!"

A large, full figured lady steps out from the shadows. She wears a flowing dress with a low, plunging neckline. She could be someone's grandmother if not for the vast cleavage exposed down her chest.

"Bella," Stephanie sprints over to hug her. "Glad to see you, and may I introduce a friend of mine, Sharon."

"Welcome!" Bella walks up and hugs me too. "My name is Bella, and I welcome you to Shooters - the ultimate in male strip joints."

"Ah, thanks," I say, confused.

"We were about to lock the doors!" Bella invites us inside. "You must hurry! You don't want to miss the show."

Stephanie starts to hop like an excited little girl. I notice she wears a mini-shirt that does an excellent job at showing off her long legs. "Come on," She motions me to follow her towards the music.

We pass through a curtain and the world is transformed. Outside the building looks like a warehouse, but the inside is most definitely a club. A bar covers one wall. A DJ booth sits along the other. Colored lights illuminate a raised stage in front. I notice a runway extends down the middle of the room, which I can't wait to see in use.

After pausing for a moment to let my eyes become accustomed to the darkness, I further notice about two-dozen tables. Women already sit at nearly all of them. Most talk. A few giggle. I notice many smoke cigars, which looks strange coming out of the mouths of a females, but I heard it was the latest fad.

"Well, what do you think?" Stephanie speaks over the music of some hard rock CD.

I notice everyone seated in the club is female. The only males in the room are waiters, the servants to the women. A large purple curtain covers the stage in front. I can't help but think of the men who will soon step out from behind it.

"I like it better every second," I say as a handsome young man walks up to us wearing only a bow tie and a skin tight, black bikini. He looks a lot like Jimmy, my old boyfriend, except for a larger budge in front.

"Ladies," He bows to us. "If you could cumm with me, please."

I like his choice of words. So does Stephanie. She wears a big smile on her face when she glances at me. I like everything I see so far.

I like it even better when the waiter turns, for I am left awestruck by his naked ass. The rear of his bikini is nothing more than a thong. A pair of hard, muscled buns present themselves to us.

"Nice ass!" Stephanie slaps it.

Naturally, we follow him.

I don't have much experience with male strip joints. I've been to only two places before, both with Stephanie, but this one is definitely different. The biggest difference is in the cliental. Most of the women in the audience, I notice, look surprisingly young. I had expected to see a bunch of horny middle-aged women, but all the women look to be in there 20s or maybe early 30s. The strip joint also looks a lot classier than I expected. The other places Stephanie took me were seedy and dirty. But this one is neat, clean, and it looks to have a higher-class audience. Every woman is dressed well and wears jewelry. In fact, they all look quite wealthy.

"How much is this place going to cost me?" I whisper a question to Stephanie. I didn't bring much along; only about fifty bucks, mostly in ones.

"Quiet!" She chastises me. "I'm concentrating on his ass."

We follow the waiter to a small table in front. It looks like a good seat, but then every table looks to be a good seat. The club is not big, only about two-dozen tables and an audience of maybe 50 women.

"Would you ladies like a drink?" The waiter questions as he politely pulls the chairs out for us to sit.

"Two Long Island Ice Teas," Stephanie orders for the both of us. She knows my favorite drink. She also knows one of the strongest drinks she can order.

"Really, how much is this place going to cost me?" I ask her again. "It looks expensive!" I noticed she didn't tip the waiter. And she didn't pay a cover at the door either. I am left confused.

"Don't worry about it," Stephanie assures me. "I've got it covered. Everything is in advance at Shooters, except for the auction, that is."

I start to question her about the auction just as a spotlight shines onto a lecture stand at the far corner of the stage.

"I welcome you to Shooters!" Bella announces over the loudspeakers.

Up until now the room remains relatively quit. Except for the music, the room is a lot quieter than the other two strip joints Stephanie took me too. As soon as Bella speaks, however, all that changes. Women begin to clap. A few yell. I hear whistles.

"For those of you who have been here before, we have two new acts," Bella tells us. "And for those of you who are first time customers, get ready to be blown away."

The clapping intensifies. The whistles become louder. Stephanie is one of the loudest. She stands up from her chair and starts chanting. "We want cock! We want cock!"

I am left embarrassed at her lusty performance, but then a woman at another table joins her.

"And cock you shall soon have," Bella smiles back to them. "Let the show begin!"

And so it does. It begins with three men. The first is dressed as a doctor, the second a policeman, and the third is a businessman in coat and tie. All three look terrific. Each is about 6 feet tall and looks very handsome. I think one of them might be the host who first showed us to our tables, but it is hard to tell with so much clothing on his body. I need to see him with less, and my wish soon comes true.

The music gets louder. It is some hard rock song - I think something from STP. The men start to strip to the beat, but only after they prance around stage and walk down the runway long enough to get the audience impatient.

"Take it off! Take it off!" Women start to yell. "Hurry and take it off."

I prefer to remain quit - or at least I remain relatively quit. I only clap and then give a whistle after one of them starts to undress.

Like I said, all three men are handsome, but I like the doctor the best. There's something about his big blue eyes and shoulder length blond hair that gets my blood boiling. I suppose it has a lot to do with his costume too. I fantasize him entering the examination room of a doctor's office while I'm still undressing, and then he tells me to continue undressing so he can examine my body.

The men dance around and take off their shirts to the beat of the heavy music. They show a trio of hard chests, and then they move down to start with their pants too. My doctor looks like he is a true blond, for the light hair on his chest almost makes it look as though it is hairless.

My attention is momentarily diverted when our drinks arrive. The drink itself does not divert me; only the near-bare ass of the waiter as he leaves. I take a sip of one delicious contraption while I admire another.

By the time I return my attention again to the stage, I see all three men down to their underwear. The first wears classic white underwear, the second boxers, and my doctor wears a set a black bikini briefs. I can't help but notice the substantial bulge in front of the doctor.

"Take it off! Take it off!" About half the audience chants in unison. "I wanna see some cock," Stephanie yells above the others.

The men continue to dance around and strip, gyrating their hips, and pretending to thrust out their members as though they might be fucking one of us. The sight leaves me in awe. I start to voice my excitement by joining in with the chant of the others.

"Take it off! Take it off!" I chant with them.

The boxers come down first, displaying a set of bikini briefs underneath. The common white underwear comes next, and then the doctor turns away from us to pull down his meager clothing in one smooth jerk. To my delight, he wears another bikini brief underneath, but this one is designed more like our waiter's. He wears a leather bikini thong that does an excellent job at showing off his ass.

"Nice ass!" Stephanie sees it too.

I think the same thought, but I am not brave enough to voice it out loud. I also think he has a nice bulge in front when he finally gyrates his body around enough for me to see. It looks especially big when I see him from the side, and I begin to think maybe he might be better endowed than most men. It is hard to tell in my heightened state of arousal. I just hope he doesn't wear padding underneath.

All three men wear nothing more than the leather bikini thongs and a small remnant of clothing to indicate their previous profession. The businessman still wears his tie, the policeman his cap, and my doctor has a stethoscope around his neck and one of those little mirror-things on his head. I can't help but fantasize him giving me a very thorough examination, perhaps placing his cold stethoscope on one of my nipples in order to listen to my heart.

The chanting of the audience has stopped. It is replaced by rude comments about their asses and the impending display of their cocks.

And then it happens, and it happens all at once. The three of them all yank down their leather thongs at the same time.

"Oh!" I hear myself moan out. I see these men are truly well endowed. They don't just have big muscles, but they look big all over. From behind me, I hear two women scream. A chair falls over. Obviously, it's not just me.

All three of them are hung like horses. And better yet, they are all clean-shaven and bare. None has hair to hide his organs - not that they could be hidden, given their size. I think the lack of hair only serves to amplify their already impressive sizes.

"A good selection, wouldn't you say?" Stephanie leans over to question me.

"Oh yes!" I agree.

I like the doctor the best. He's so well hung that his cock looks like an erection pointed downward. It must be 6 or maybe 8 inches in length, and it's so wide too. He has a massive organ, and I can't help but think how much more massive it will be in an aroused state.

"Big men are always better," Stephanie speaks. "A strip show with big cocks is always better."

"Oh yes!" I agree completely.

The voices go quiet just after the three men strip down completely. It is as though everyone is too awestruck to say anything. Music continues, but the chants and yells from the audience suddenly stop. It is as though the women have trouble accepting the sight before them.

"Let's see 'em move," Stephanie is one of the first to start up again. Quickly, others join her.

I don't know what she means at first, but I soon I find out. The men start dancing again. They danced the whole time, even after they strip down, but they dance slower and don't move around very much at first. That all changes after the audience demands it.

As if to emphasize their size - not that they need any emphasis - the men start to dance around with increased vigor. The DJ changes the music to some kind of rap song with a heavy beat. They dance to the beat, placing increased movement into their steps. And as they dance, they place increased movement into their cocks as well.

"Holy fuck!" I cry out loud.

Cocks move violently to the beat of the music. They sway back and forth, and then they bounce up and down. I've always liked to watch a guy make his dick move around, but these big dicks are even better because they are so big. I start to wonder if the men might even be hurting themselves with the way they gyrate their cocks all over, but I really don't care. I love it. Many of the other women do too. I hear several more screams from behind me.

They dance all over the stage, and then they start moving down the runway. We get to see them all over. This is the best strip joint I've ever been to. I don't think I will ever listen to rap music quite the same way again!

After they get done dancing around on stage, they move down to the audience. They jump down off the runway to join us in the audience. We get an even better show as they dance between the table and slowly make their way towards the exit in back. Some women even try to grab them, and I think one is even successful.

At the same time, just as the first trio leaves out back, a second trio leaps out from behind the curtain. This time they are dressed as a fireman, an Indian chief, and a construction worker; but they don't remain dressed for long. Like the first three, they begin to strip down. They quickly strip off coats, shirts, and then pants or shorts. Soon, they are left only with boxers, but soon those quickly come off too. They are left with nothing more than leather thongs.

The women start to really get into it. Stephanie is screaming. I hear myself yelling. "Take it off! Take it off!" I try to yell above the rock-and-roll music and the chant of the other 50-or-so women in the room. "Show me what you got."

The construction worker grabs my attention most of all. I think he also grabs the attention of every other woman in the place too. The guy starts out wearing a torn muscle shirt that looks like it got torn because his muscles broke through the fabric. He reminds me of an old television show, the incredible hulk, and he looks like a hulk too. He looks big all over. I can't wait to see if he is big underneath too.

Unlike the others, he wears a tool belt. He leaves it on the whole time, even after he pulls down a set of boxers from behind it. He dances around on stage with just the belt. I don't know if he wears anything behind it. I start to wonder, and the wonderment makes me horny. I wonder if he wears only the tool belt to cover his tool.

Then, as if he is reading my mind, he shows me. He shows everyone. He turns his back to the audience and adjusts his belt. From behind, we see his entire ass. He wears no thong! The same two women scream from behind me. I almost join them. The sight looks incredibly erotic. I feel like screaming out, but don't.

"Take it off! Take it all off!" Women become increasingly vocal around me. "Let me see your meat! Show off your prick!"

The fireman and Indian chief do so first. They strip their thongs down together, and I see they are just as well endowed as the first group.

And then it is the turn of the construction worker. He does a slow, provocative striptease to the beat of the music, unbuckling the strap, holding it in front.

"Let me see your cock," I hear myself yell out. "Let me see what you've got."

He turns to face me. He looks me right in the eye. I am left awestruck, and then he drops the belt.

"Fuck!" I let out a breath.

The guy is huge, easily the biggest cock of them all. He's not only long, but he's so thick and massive too.

Stephanie gives him a standing ovation. "Now that's a cock!" She claps. Several other women join her. He acknowledges their compliment by taking his own cock in his hand and holding it so it points perpendicular out from his body.

"Fuck!" I am left in awe. His cock nearly takes up his entire hand. It looks as though it might even be heavy.

Like the first group, they begin to dance. The three men shake their bodies all around. They dance to some fast pace song with a heavy beat. I mostly watch the construction worker because he doesn't move around much. I mean he shakes and moves his body all around, but his cock remains almost in place. It is as though the thing is too massive to move around much.

A third trio comes out on stage. This time it is a farmer, a cowboy, and a male nurse. They strip down just like the others, and they are just as well endowed as the others too. I find myself in cock heaven.

"Which is the best so far?" Stephanie asks me in a horse voice. "Who's your favorite out of the first nine?"

I start to say the construction worker, but then I think back to the doctor. With so many well-hung men, it is difficult to pick.

"I'd take any of them," I answer naturally. "I've never seen so many well hung pricks in one place! This show must have cost you a fortune."

"But it's worth it!" She answers. "And just wait, the best part is yet to come."

I wonder what she means by this. We've already seen three great shows. I have a difficult time believing it can get any better, but then it does.

The third trio jumps down from the stage. At the same time, from somewhere in back of the room, the first two groups join them. We suddenly find ourselves with nine totally naked men dancing around the tables. Nine well-hung, gorgeous young men wag their dicks all around.

I search for the construction worker. He's easy to find on the opposite side of the runway. All I need to do is listen for the hoots and hollers from the women at the surrounding tables. He's still naked and remains as big as before.

And then, to my complete amazement, a woman at one of the tables reaches out for him. She reaches for his hanging cock. Even more amazing, I see another woman reach out for another man. And then I see one more. They miss at first. The men almost seem to tease them; walking up close and then pulling away at the last second, but the women are very close. Eventually, I know, one of them is going to be successful.