(DEDICATED TO NICOLE and all the female dancers who put up with male assholes)
IT was off to the north country of the French GAYLANDS. Saint Catherine Street (Gay district shhhh) in good old Montreal. When I got there I had myself a big dinner at a popular French restaurant in downtown historic district. I went to Montreal because I know the female strippers love the Americans (for their money, even though the exchange rate isn't favorable for the dollar, Americans tend to be more generous tippers than the stingy Quebecois). At one topless club I met five American white guys besides the dance table who were there to party and get drunk, as I was, so I felt right at home.
One hot beautiful blonde named Danielle came over to me and asked if I wanted a lap dance? Being a little tipsy and trying to act cool with my new American buddies, I said, "Hey why are there so many ugly girls in this place tonight? Is that all the best Montreal has to offer?" Danielle said "I beg your pardon?" Hearing a roar of laughter from the guys I knew I was on a roll and said "Hey I seen you shaking it up to that black guy over there. You girls aren't darkie lovers are ya?"
More laughter. Danielle spit this time with, "That man is a paying customer and I don't see what that business is of yours..." I slapped her bottom and replied, "Shove off blondie you're making me bored. She walked away in humiliation. One guy said, "Oh I think you hurt her feelings." "Fuck her." We all cheered and made a toast to that and swallowed our drinks down.
One hot black girl with huge jugs and a stacked booty came up and said for only ten bucks we could have five licks each of her fine ass. I hesitated about that I did not know if she had a disease or something. The guys said, c'mon it will be fun. So one by one they followed her into a booth. The first guy came out giving us the thumbs up so the next guy went in and so on. When it was my turn I downed a shot of Jack and went in the booth. I did not see the black girl, but when I looked up at the low ceiling I saw a 5x5 hole with her asshole pressed on top of the cut-out. I was disappointed I was hoping for her pussy. I gave her 5 licks and yelled "rip-off" and went to the men's room and took a whizz.
When we had our fair share of ass and tits we left. I saw the blonde girl Danielle at the exit door with a big muscular black guy with an earring, I guess a bouncer. Danielle said "For guys who not into interracial love, it was funny to see you all follow the black girl into the booth." I replied rather arrogantly, "Well it's OK if a guy does it." The boys laughed as we walked out of that strip club. We hit a couple of more bars and then went our separate ways. I could not wait to get back to the hotel after walking those cold windy streets when I noticed a skinny little effeminate white guy passing out fliers at the corner. I took one from him. He said nothing to me.
It read: "It's Ladies Nite Saturday 8 p.m. (Tomorrow) at the D.M.M. featuring: Hot male burlesque dancers. Gentlemen also welcomed." In smaller print below it read D.M.M. meaning Dark Montreal Meat. I said to myself -- What bullshit. Only girls should be strippers. Guys who strip must be fags. I think I'll go there just to make fun of them and look cool in front of all those girls.
I woke up the next morning hearing loud banging at my hotel door saying 11am is check-out time. I had a huge headache and a hangover and no aspirin. There was also a parking ticket on my car's windshield. I looked inside my wallet. I asked myself how did I spent that much money? And knew if I was going again to another nightclub tonite I would have just hang out all day on the streets of cold and lonely Montreal and eat at McDonald's and sleep in my car after the club closed to sober up so I would not get a DUI.
To kill time, I checked out all the shops on St. Catherine. Looked at a few Cathedrals and went to an Art Museum feeling lousy all day. A few beggars asked for me for money (mostly teenagers, probably runaways doing drugs). Last time I told them to get a job, but this time I told myself one day I could be in their position and spared some change.
Around evening time when it was getting dark I spent my last few long hours at the Saint Laurence pier. I asked two girls who were making out on the other's lap what time it was. When started to rain hard, I sat in my car for another few hours wondering why I keep coming back here. Driving six hundred miles only to be stopped at the border and wait another hour or two to cross, as if I'm a terrorist or something just because I said that I'm an overnight tourist sight-seeing. What am I supposed to tell those guards? I'm hungry for pussy? Do the Gay guys say "I come to Montreal city because hungry for French-Canadian cock?" Last time I came here they pulled out my French maid uniform (that I put on to wear at a niteclub for Halloween) from my trunk and the lady guard asked, "Where's the woman?" I said that it was a present for my girlfriend. (I lied.) Once I brought a squirting life-like-cock at a porno shop in Montreal. Coming home, I was so embarrassed when the guards opened up the package and spent a long time, laughing, calling over other guards pretending to look inside of it for drugs. I thought if I'm coming here for humiliation I'm doing a good job. Back to my Saturday nite....I tried to nap as the last lonely, but horny hour passed. Finally my clock on the dashboard read 8p.m. I could not believe the time had arrived. So I started up my car on the pier drove off to St. Catherine Street dying for action and excitement.
This true story now gets very embarrassing to tell. Please forgive me -- GayWayne
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