Measure for Measure

Travis shuffled into the dimly lit strip club, his shy demeanor making him stand out like a sore thumb among the pulsing lights and thumping bass. He spotted her immediately—an hourglass vixen with curves that could stop traffic, working the pole with effortless confidence. She caught his eye, sauntered over, and without missing a beat, purred, "You look like you need a private lesson, stranger. VIP's this way."

In the secluded VIP room, Travis stammered, "So, uh, what do you like?" She leaned in close, her hourglass figure pressing just enough to tease, and replied with a wicked grin, "Nine inches gets me going, but my minimum's seven—anything less and I'm bored stiff." Her hand slipped down his pants, fingers wrapping around his modest length, and she smiled slyly. "Looks like someone doesn't measure up." Travis's face turned beet red as she added, "Aw, honey, this little cock's got ambition but no delivery."

She didn't let up, her strong grip stroking him to full hardness while she whispered, "You wouldn't even make it past the cheeks if we fucked doggystyle—my ass would swallow you whole before you knew it." Travis felt himself getting horny fast, his breath hitching as she continued the teasing rhythm. "Bet you'd love a blowjob from these lips, but let's see if you can handle this first." Her pussy was clearly wet and dripping with amusement at his expense, the power dynamic all hers.

Sweating now, Travis panted under her expert touch, his 6 inches throbbing futilely in her hand. She worked him faster, witty barbs flying: "This is cute, but real men bring the heat—yours is more like a warm-up." He couldn't hold back, his body tensing as he came hard, cum spilling over her fingers in a rush of release. She chuckled, wiping her hand with a smirk, leaving him spent yet craving more.

"Not bad for a warmup," she said, already eyeing the door, "but next time, bring something that can actually compete."