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Tricked into eating my mother-in-law.

When I look down, I'm peering into my own cleavage. I've got a helluva rack for a guy.

After sliding on the panties, comes the tricky part: the stockings. The stall wall doesn't go all the way to the ground. If anyone comes in, they'll be able to see what I'm doing. But it's worth the risk. I pull off my tennis shoes, socks and jeans. I quickly slide the stockings up my legs. Then, just as quickly, I put my pants, socks and shoes back on. Whew! Made it. No one came in.

With my pants pulled up to my knees, I fasten the garter straps to the stockings. I'm careful to make sure they're straight. Buckling the back clasps is no easy task. I have to twist my body as far as it will go to get both hands on the clasp.

I pull up my pants, put my shirt back on and head back to the pickup. I love wearing lingerie in public, even if I'm the only one who knows it. I feel like such a slut. In the parking lot, I throw my hips back and forth like a woman and let my wrist hang limp.

Back in the truck, my boner is impossibly hard. I hang a right and head toward the strip club.

It's happy hour when I arrive, but there are only about 10 cars in the parking lot. The big, Saturday night rush won't come for hours. I park around back, so no one will see my truck.

When I enter through the tall, wooden doors, I'm greeted by an attractive but fully clothed blonde. "Three dollars," she says. I pay with a twenty. She gives me change in two-dollar bills. In this is a high-class club, the girls demand big tips.

But the rewards are great.

Bass thumps through the building. It's dark inside. The purple glow of black lights illuminates the bar. Three guys, a bartender and a couple of strippers laugh about something. At the far end of the room, a girl is swinging around the pole on the main stage. This is what I've come to see.

I sit in the second row. This is close enough to clearly see the girl but far enough away to tip her when I deem it convenient, not her.

The girl's top is still on. It must be her first song. Strippers at this club almost always wait until the second song to show their tits.

The stripper has long, blonde hair and wears a skin-tight black dress. Even through her dress, I can tell her hooters are natural. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes tell me she's older than most of the strippers in this club. She's probably in her mid 30s, maybe 40.

I fold my arms and lean back into my seat. I discreetly pinch my nipples and roll them between my fingertips. As my cock rises, it rubs against the lacy panties.

I notice a couple of other guys sitting near the stage. They don't seem to notice me. They're transfixed on the girl.

The song fades out and the DJ comes on: "Remember guys, these girls are working hard for your tips, so get up and show the lady you appreciate her. Give her a buck or two. Now round two with...Sierra."

Another bass-heavy song reverberates through the club. Sierra faces the back of the stage and seductively pulls down the top of her dress. She crosses her arms across her chest and twirls around. One of the guys in the audience walks up to a set of stairs that lead to the stage. He stops at the bottom step. In his hand is a two-dollar bill folded in half lengthwise. Sierra locks her gaze on him and comes over. She uncrosses her arms and pulls his head into her cleavage. Sierra bats her tits against his face. The guy isn't smiling. He seems to be just drinking it all in. Sierra backs up and lifts up her G-string. The guy slides the bill up her hip. The G-string snaps back into place. The stripper smiles at the guy, kisses him on the cheek and goes back to the pole.

The next girl is Liza. When her name is announced, she steps away from the bar and hurries up to the stage. She wears a neon orange mini skirt that glows under the black light on stage and a swirl-design bikini top. She looks young enough to be in high school. Liza uses the look to her advantage. She bounces around the stage like a cheerleader.

I'm the first one to offer a tip.

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