When She No Longer Touches The Pee-Pee

Has there been any stripper in your life that suddenly decides to withhold the touch of her hand? I have one in My Favorite Stripclub In The Area. I've talked about her a few times. We “met” when I saw her from across the way a few years ago. The short hair was an instant turn-off, and I thought, “Oh, I don't want to talk to her.” I put my head down as I passed her because I wanted to survey the talent from a back table. Nevertheless, she said hello to me and started to monopolize my time. My prejudging of her was wrong. She was nice. More importantly, she alluded to the fact that she touches the pee-pee. So we went to the back, where it's quiet and camera-less. With some surprise flashing and a lot of badgering, she finally touched my pee-pee. On subsequent visits, it appeared that she had warmed up to me and my cock, because she was more and more willing to choke me chicken. I came, frequently, and it got to the point where I ejaculated onto my stomach, and even her fingers. But then, at one point in the past year, she began to get really bothered when I would unbutton my pants and show her my pink thing. I had done that all the time just to be slightly naughty – “Put that away!” she'd always say, and I'd smile and button up my pants again, because I knew she would just reach in there and start jacking away at me, and she did – but there was one afternoon where she wouldn't play along anymore. I can't pinpoint exactly when it was, and/or what caused this change … though come to think of it, I did expose myself this one time in front of her and her unwitting co-worker at the same time, one of my lifelong dreams. Maybe she got freaked out over that. Or maybe it was later on in this VIP, when I bit her tit so hard I saw and felt her shake and recoil. I was slow on the uptake. I thought she was still playing hard to get this time around, and I thought that meant I had to get hard. But she denied me her wrist action, and I got blueballs bad. She came over later, when I was trying to hold in my anger while having my complimentary lunch. In retrospect I think she was trying to be nice, but because I was denied the kind of service I expected of her, I was a total, frigid dick. That may have been the reason why she refused to give me a handjob the next time I came to the club. Without thinking of my possible culpability in this change of heart, I mentally put her on notice; you don't yank me a third time, miss, and I'm not tipping you anymore. Your choice, your loss. So late last year was this last chance. I take her to the back again and drop my pants and present my bashful pee-pee again; she told me in no uncertain terms to holster myself. And for the three songs on the bed (actually four since you get a 2-for-1 on days) not only did she not masturbate me in my pants, she didn't even grope through them. I lose it and start communicating through body language my frustration. She finally gets my hint: “You're mad I'm not giving you a handjob, huh?” (I might be paraphrasing, but that's basically how this heart-to-heart conversation started.) “Why won't you?” I pleaded, like a boy not getting his favorite toy. And she tells me that she thinks I'm talking shit about her on the Internet. She didn't specify, nor did I ask, whether she's talking about extras or if she's accusing me of just dissing her online. She's raised this allegation to me the past few times, and every time I deny it. I haven't slagged her at all on the Internet. Now, talking about her? That I have totally done. I'll be honest; when she says she thinks I'm writing about her, what I really want to say was, “Holy shit, you've actually read my stuff online?” Anyway, every time she says I've been talking about her, I demand proof, either evidence of this supposed piece of writing that leads her to believe I'm the one outing her online or a direct quote of any of my reviews, and she still hasn't done so. There's a less than 50% chance she's talking about someone else. No matter; bottom line, she will not touch my cock anymore. Frankly, after this third time, I was really pissed. But believe it or not, this sudden dawning also gave me certainty. I knew then, without a doubt, not to take what used to be my All-Time Favorite back for a bed dance anymore. That will save me money, time and, ultimately, mental anguish. Fast-forward to a couple months ago. Finding a stripper to get me hard has been h- … difficult. There's one girl at this club that was reliable enough to jack me off, but when I went there last time she was gone. Thankfully there was another beautiful ATF that was a more-than-dexterous substitute. And the babe that used to apply her powerful wrists on my main vein was still there. Hell, I got a dance from her – a couch dance in the side of the club for a $20 2-for-1, of course. We actually had a decent conversation; in fact, it that may have been the most honest one I've ever had with her. I still don't know her real name, for crissake. But for the first time ever with her, I finally believe her totally when she says she just doesn't want to do “that stuff” anymore. I still wish she did: “Your handjobs are legendary,” I complimented her. But she wasn't persuaded. I don't remember if either of us raised the issue of her name being “smeared” online. We just left that one dance with a new equilibrium. It'll work, at least for now. I mean, if she was so pissed at me, I guess she could get me thrown out of the club, and then where will I go to get off? Or maybe I'm still holding onto hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll change her mind and manually pleasure me again. So what do y'all think? Ever had a situation where a girl who once provided extras wouldn't provide them anymore? What did you do? And if you've been lucky enough not to go through this painful divorce, what would you do? Am I doing the right thing? Thanks in advance.