Your Husband Had Enrolled You In Pole Class As Part Of His Physical Fitness Requirements. And You Loved

Your husband had enrolled you in pole class as part of his physical fitness requirements. And you loved it. Something he picked up on. So he planned. A few days later, you found out that he had signed you up for an amature night at the strip club.

You knew the perfect outfit, and you got advice from some of the strippers. Some careful alterations were made, and when it was time, you stepped on the stage dressed as a 50's housewife. The music clashes as Closer plays. Some carefully cut seams come away as you rip your top open. Exposing the lacy bra that doesn't hide your nipples.

Skirt and petticoat falling away to show off your panties and garter belt. Stepping out of the puddle they make on the floor before you start doing pole tricks. The audience cheered as men put money on the rail. Soon, you fling your bra to your husband. The feeling of all of those men eying you like a piece of meat makes you soak through your panties. Something the men pick up on. And the catcalls join the cheers and money on the stage.

Soon, the song is over, and you gather up the money the men left for you and go to your husband. Giving him a little curtesy before handing him the money. The look on your face screaming that you need to be railed. Now. In the VIP room, over the hood of his car, right here. He puts his hand on your ass and guides you out. The leering not stopping.