Blowjobs on Christmas Part Two: The Pig all the other days

I described the glories of the once-great BallPark Tavern in a previous article (see Blowjobs on Christmas (https://app.tuscl.net/article/57816 )). Here I'm going to continue the chronicle of debauchery in response to a recent conversation about Playhouse Lounge, which is nearby and nothing like the Ballpig, may it rest in peace. I actually feel sorry for those who never experienced BP before it succumbed to the prudes. Many surely weren't intrepid enough for its extras excesses. For those who were, the excesses were the attraction. They had to be because the atmosphere wreaked of desperation. The air itself was filtered through burning tobacco and blackened lungs. Everything about BP was downscale. Even the girls, who seemed to have arrived from hell. Bad circumstances and bad choices. Bad boyfriends. Bad drugs. All of the above. Many weren't pretty at all. Some really weren't. This was the bottom. This was no ordinary strip club. And yet we stayed. The reason why was as obvious as the stench. Almost as soon as you'd inhaled a lung full of cigarette smoke, one of the dancers would sit beside you and offer the menu like she was listing burgers and fries. One example. A young, attractive, blonde waif used to walk collet her tips and ask if you wanted a dance. In nearly the same breadth she'd then say hers was the best blowjob in the bar. Before you could answer, she would take $10 off her price. It was now $70 instead of $80, including the price of two $20 songs. It wasn't the best BJ in the bar, but it was good enough to see a sorority style face working my knob. You see, pretty girls hit bottom too. If there was an abundance of bad figures and bad faces, bad teeth and bad tattoos, the BallPark had its surprises as well. My last night of fun at BP was topped off by the porn-worthy face and figure of a slim, young redhead I'd never seen there before (and didn't after because BP shut down the next week). Setting my dick in motion toward her pussy was a simple as saying I wanted a dance. Consistent with past practice, I told her I'd pay her $100 for sex (with oral) plus dances. She stripped off, kneeled down and delivered an excellent appetizer. When it came time for the main course (second song), I told her to hop on. She asked if I wanted a condom. She accepted my "no" without a blink. Her pussy was divine sliding over my extended shaft. This was ordinary. On one of my rare post-midnight visits, I was surprised how crowded the bar was. Surprise turned to delight when a slim, young Latina with riot of curly hair and wearing a neon singlet that exposed a perfect caramel Latin ass made her way to me. She signaled with a single finger for me to follow. On the couch, I asked if we were going to fuck. She said she would be doing the fucking; I was just going to sit. She pulled out my raging cock, sucked it just enough to make it slick. Then she turned around, pushed out that amazing ass and pulled the fabric aside. I didn't move. She pressed my dick into a pussy I never saw and proceeded to rock her gorgeous ass by the tiniest of fractions. I'm not ashamed to tell you I couldn't last. The stage show ... well ... it varied. First of all, you really didn't want to see most of the girls. One, who was named after a European capital, used to remove her clothes even though her body was a barrel, and her tits and ass were almost as ugly as her face. Her attitude was worse. In all the years, I never saw her pull a dance. Some less attractive girls pulled lots of dances. One favorite had almost no tits. Even her nipples were inverted! Her ass was small. Her face was girl-next-door below average. Yet most days she'd pull more privates by herself than the other girls combined. It was attitude. She sold. We bought. She delivered. We asked for more. BP had a rule that required girls to take their turn on stage when scheduled. Private dances didn't exempt them, which made for sometimes saucy stage shows. Some girls would run directly from a private dance onto the stage. And because they'd been fucking ... And because they didn't use condoms ... Some girls could barely make it to the stage some nights. I was looking forward to another meeting with one of the best-looking dancers. She'd been a great fuck in the back and was on the rotation again a couple of weeks later. She seemed stuck in the dressing room. Whatever drugs she'd taken, she'd crashed in the back. Never fucked her again. She was arrested soon after, convicted with her boyfriend of armed robbery, wasting that sweet, young pussy in prison. There was a pretty, twenty-something AA woman who used to dance on the ceiling. You read that right. She was a great dancer whatever her vertical orientation. She'd climb up the pole, turn upside down, plant her heels on the ceiling and dance. A beautiful sight. She was the one who'd leap off my lap to take my cumshot in her mouth. Well ... one of them. One of the most desired girls at the club was sitting with me one evening and complaining. Some guy had offered to pay her rent. Whether stated or inferred, she took offense to the quid pro quo. She was livid. I'm no whore, she told me. Barely 10 minutes later, she was sucking my dick for all of $80. Another girl thought it was important for me to know she's healthy, informing me in detail about her organic diet. "I am very particular about what goes in my mouth," she stated definitely. The next thing that went into her mouth was my dick. I'd met her maybe 20 minutes before. Never saw her again. Another talker was rich. And a CIA agent. Lots more too. Objectively, she was unattractive. Never saw her do a single dance. One anomaly was an Asian dancer with huge breasts. I mention her less because she was an anomaly than because she used to brag about how big her pussy was. One of the best dancers was the rare girl who didn't suck dick in the back. She would squirt for money. One of the more popular girls graduated from the Pig to a short term in county prison. When she got out, she took her business model online, including pictures of where the dick would go. She even offered her younger sister for sale. Older sister was pregnant, by the way. And dead soon after. Hope sister found a better path. There were funerals for lots of the girls. Well ... lots of memorial wishes. Motherless children. All too often boyfriends and exes who didn't hardly care. OD was the usual reason. I couldn't help but wonder about intention - or at least disregard. I'd be lying if I told you that I never felt complicit in the girls' distress. I did. I suppose you could say the money that got my dick inserted in their mouths and pussies bought their drugs and brought them to the Pig and all its depravity. It did. I'm not proud of that. I loved BP anyway. Opening the door was like passing through a portal into an alternate world. That it was - a world I might never see again. Maybe that's okay.