I take a lot of big tit photos. I have a nice rack. Sometimes, I catch men snapping pictures of my big tits. I don’t mind. Clearly, I flaunt them. I was at a strip club last night with some girlfriends. One of my friends is a featured dancer at the club. We met her for drinks after her set. When we go there, men always buy us drinks. I wore a bikini top with a skin tight black skirt. I was in a mood to flaunt my rack. Guys kept mistaking me for one of the dancers. They wanted lap dances from me. My friend told me to go for it. She works there and said the owner won’t care. Lap dances means men are buying drinks too. I went along with the belief that I was a stripper. I pocketed several hundred dollars. The last guy I gave a lap dance too wanted to spend more time with me. He had snapped a bunch of pictures of me throughout the night. I never noticed I had a stalker. He called himself a fan. He likes Amazon goddesses with big boobs. I like men with big dicks. My stripper friend vouched for him. She said he was a high roller in the club a couple times a month. He finds a girl he likes, spoils her for a month and moves on to the next new hot thing. I wasn’t going to commit to a stranger for a month, but for a night in a penthouse suite at the Renaissance, that I could handle. His hotel room had a wet bar and a jacuzzi. I fucked him all over his hotel suite. He didn’t have a huge cock, but he ate pussy like a porn star. When I woke up this morning, he was gone. There was an envelope on the nightstand addressed to me. It contained a sweet note and a wad of cash. I thought I was just hooking up with a guy for a night of fun and fucking. Apparently, he thought I was an escort. Maybe I am in the wrong adult profession!
Cassandra
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