To Mitch, watching his wife strip onstage for other men is trumped only by watching her fuck them.

That night, everyone was watching my wife. Every man in the room had his eyes on Sally. Every dick in the building was as hard as marble because of her. You see, my wife is a stripper, and when she’s working the pole — so to speak — she captures even the most jaded customer’s attention.

Sally paraded across the stage wearing a formfitting tuxedo, her long russet-brown hair up on the top of her head, a few curls spiraling free. She slowly and sensually peeled out of her outfit, piece by piece. I could hear the collective gasps when she tossed aside her black satin jacket to reveal the faux shirt beneath, a ruffle of white that she easily discarded to showcase her breasts.

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