The cash was gone in under an hour but the raging boner lasted the rest of the night. After a few lapdances with a busty redhead that in the smoke could have been the twin of his best friend’s soon-to-be wife, he quickly found himself sitting at the bar watching from afar.

The occasional busty siren would saunter by and offer a dance, but he refused them all, not wanting to draw out any more money and risk his wife’s wrath. Still, the temptation didn’t go away. During the lapdances, he had had to fight off the urge to break the unspoken barriers that exist between dancer and patron. He had been a good boy, though. He had kept his hands to himself, just like he had promised his wife. He had resisted frottage. No, he had been a good.

He said his goodbyes, and on the way home he wondered if his wife would be awake. He tip-toed in, shut the door quietly and snuck past his daughter’s room.

No, she was asleep. So he jerked one out quickly in the bathroom, thinking of that stripper from the lapdance.