You tell you boss every graphic detail

“Devon, I’m sorry.”

“Missy, that’s not good enough.”

You know your name isn’t Missy. That’s just what he calls all the strippers when he’s pissed. You also know that he wants to hear details.

“Okay, Devon. I gave my neighbor a quick blowjob.”

“Quick?”

You open your mouth to show off a bit of white cum.

“Yeah, he came pretty fast. His wife doesn’t suck him off so he was ready to blow a load down my throat when I dropped to my knees and yanked out his pecker. I face fucked him in the hallway. It’s part of my plan to seduce his wife. He was barely six inches.”

“You’re suck a ball buster. Get your ass back there. You’re up as soon as you get in costume.”

You see his cock straining against his crotch. You give it a tender tug. It’s under five inches. For a big man, Devon has a small dick. That’s why he loves hearing a good fuck story.

You wave at the stripper at the pole. She nods. You scoot back stage. You inhale the heady aroma of cigarette smoke, whiskey, heavy perfumes, sweat and repressed lesbians.

You see several pairs or tits. All of them powdered and pasties. Now you understand what excites you about tits and pussies. But first you need to plaster on your makeup. Your hands deftly applied lipstick and thick eyeliner and mascara. Again you don’t know where this knowledge came from.

Next you pick out a costume. (Note to readers. Please suggest a costume in the comments section.)