Drunk Suzy Strips in a Club - Sex Stories

Drunk Suzy Strips in a Club

DRUNK SUZY STRIPS NUDE IN A CLUB It was my first time visiting Africa. First, my name is Suzy Karol. I stay in Bretford, England, with my old husband, who is fifty-eight. We have produced three sons in fifteen years of marriage: Ryan, Dean, and Peter. I was shocked to learn that Africa can be exceedingly cold like it normally is here in Europe. The day was Tuesday, 8 September. I arrived at Gaborone International Airport worn out from eight hours of flying. This was my first time being in Botswana. I was surrounded with strange but nice people. Well, not everyone was kind to me. The truth is I don’t give a damn to those who don’t care about me. A few hours following my arrival, I began to feel bored. My husband, Ian, had not come with me as a result of his fatal illness. No—I didn’t run away from him. He was getting better now and he wished me to come on this trip without his company. “You have got not more than two weeks to go on vacation, Suzy. Following that, there are three continuous months of work with no holidays made available to you. I don’t want you to miss out because of my poor health, sweetheart.” In England, I work in a restaurant. Workmates call me ‘Chef Suzy.’ Cooking is my field and talent. I was born inside a traditional kitchen by a woman who later died from electrocution while cooking on her stove. Ever since I was six, cooking has been my dream. I don’t think this world can be a better place if we don’t have chefs or restaurants. Sadly, in Botswana, no ...

... one allowed me to cook. Most ingredients we use to cook in my motherland were not seeable here. The food tasted wonderful, yet it was very foreign to me. Usually, I contracted diarrhea two minutes after eating it. This made me miss home greatly, until I ran into Cara. Cara Roberts was from the United States and gorgeous. She was slim like Naomi Campbell, with shoulder-long black hair and blue eyes. Her step was graceful like a model’s. The two of us accidentally met and ended up being best friends. My hotel room was numbered 56. Hers was 64 and two floors up from mine; her brown cat, Sammy, whom she had flown with from Washington, went missing from her suite and hid inside mine. She is the reason we became best pals. “Are you having fun in Africa, Suzy?” She asked me one afternoon as we were lazing about in the sun. Today, it was wonderfully hot. The previous four days I had been here were cold like the North Pole. “Nah…..it is boring. The only thing we do is sleep the entire afternoon, then shower in the evening, and go for disco at night. I want to have real fun. Do you understand what I am saying?” She seemed more confused than I could probably tell. “What do you mean by saying ‘real fun,’ Suzy?” “I mean getting wild. Yes: The good moms gone bad kind of fun. Aren’t you curious to try something new?” Now we were talking. I could see her eyes shine happily while she smiled back at him. “What fun do you think we must try out, sweetie?” “Let’s go to a strip club after tonight. ...