For the life of me, I couldn’t read French. As we passed the street signs, they looked familiar. Stop signs were still red octagons even if they said, “Arret” {Stop}. At the time I was a bit tipsy and wasn’t sure why we decided to go to Montreal to get more booze in the middle of the night, but as it was my first journey outside of the country, I was determined to make it memorable. The border agents let the three of us through without incident, needing only our driver’s licenses in lieu of passports.

I was with two guys from college. The first was Anthony who went by ‘Tony’ which I was convinced was an attempt to make himself seem like a proper ‘bro’. He was a little fat, but not overly so, and covered up his short brown hair with a ball cap. The other was David, whose middle name William involuntary foisted the nickname ‘Willy’ on him. Willy was tall and was most notable for his nose, which perched on his face like that of a bird’s beak. He was quite opposite of his blusterous friend and kept himself as the more quiet company.

The three of us were fairly lost in the foreign city as we parked the truck and turned down multiple streets. I kept singing, “There’s no Canada like French Canada” in my head, trying to ease the tension. To its credit, French Canada is a beautiful part of their country and I have visited several times since my initial encounter.

We were all eighteen, and being too young to purchase alcohol in America, we were hoping to visit some bars in Quebec province. The first place we visited was a mistake; it was too noisy and stacked to the wall with hosers. I immediately retreated when I felt an errant hand advance under the hem of my skirt and caress my ass followed by, “Comment ça va ce soir, Rouge?” {How are you tonight, Red} or something like that.

Tony and Willy may have been hormonal teenagers like any other young freshmen, but they chivalrously escorted me out and we were on our way to find another location. I was proud of them, if only for a little while. I had once overheard Tony speak disparagingly of the reputation of one of his ‘conquests’, but now I had an impression of him that spoke more of consensual and perhaps even affectionate rendezvous.

“What do you think of visiting St. Catherine’s Street?” Tony joked as we avoided the crowds on the sidewalk.

“I don’t think we should,” Willy warned.

“Why not?” I naively questioned.

“Well, St. Catherine’s Street has a certain, special reputation,” he continued, trying to be diplomatic.

“What is it like, a bad part of town? Or something?” I continued to probe.

“Strip clubs, my dear,” Tony interjected to clarify.

“I’ve never been to a strip club before,” I said, nervous about the possibility.

“So, you’re not offended? You don’t think it’ll be weird?” Willy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well yeah, it’s going to be weird, but not as weird as you two sitting with raging boners in a room full of other guys with hard-ons,” I smiled as I continued to walk, flaunting my braid and letting my skirt flow in unison.

I can’t honestly remember the name of the club we stopped at, but we were enticed by a sharp-tongued man who offered to waive the cover charge. Once inside, it was a stark contrast to strip clubs you see on television. The whole place was covered in this hideous green carpet that was probably stained with copious amounts of cum and sticky tables were everywhere. The women were also not what I was expecting. Almost all of them looked like they were barely eighteen and were extremely skinny. The first girl that approached our table looked like hadn’t eaten in days and I was tempted to slip her some extra cash, so she could grab some poutine and not faint in the middle of the floor.

We sat back and watched the scene unfold for a while, sharing a couple pitchers of beer. The whole place seemed routine; a girl would walk up to the stage in a skimpy outfit and strip down, taking her time to show off the goods. I wasn’t overly aroused or impressed by their selections, but I could see the boys were enjoying it, so I kept my mouth shut.

“What’s the matter, chérie?” an older woman in her thirties asked in a beautiful accent.

“It’s fine, I’m okay, it’s just not what I was expecting, that’s all,” I solemnly replied, taking another sip.

“What, you thought it wouldn’t be a bunch of old lecherous men horning over teenage girls?” she sassed.

“I mean, that’s probably what I thought, but at least I figured it might be different,” I honestly said back.

“If you’ve got some money, I can show the three of you a good time,” she seductively whispered in my ear.

Tony flashed her a stack of Canadian notes and nodded with approval. The woman motioned us with her finger and we all followed her into a back room. I call it a back room, but it wasn’t like overly hidden or anything. It resembled the rest of the place, with only a small curtain partitioning it from the main room.

From what I assumed it would be a ‘private’ dance, and it started to seem that way. As the music continued to blare in the background, she made her way around to each of us. She sashayed around, making sure to drop to her hips and when she rose again, she would arch her back, showing off the curvature of her body.

I could tell the boys had stiff erections when she finally took off her top, exposing a pair of gorgeous breasts. I glanced over at them and while Tony proudly spread his legs, Willy tried to conceal his a little more. I was afforded a closer look when I smiled and held up a loonie. She slowly walked toward me and nuzzled my face into her stacked bosom, gripping my head so I couldn’t escape. My head rattled between her boobs and my skull bounced from left to right. It was magnificent, but I wish I had more time to embrace each one.

At this point, I was having a blast. Our generous hostess was down to a pair of lacy red panties that had been stuffed with cash; she was dancing and trying to entice the boys even more by rubbing her body against them, and they seemed to be having some fun too.

In my haste for what I thought would be a good idea, I sidled up next to Willy and tried to extricate the introvert from him. He was nervous, and I honestly think he might have been a virgin that night. He was sitting in a slouched pose, and while smiling he seemed distant. I could tell he was hard, but he tried to cover it up by crossing his legs at the ankles and scooting back in the booth.

“Come on, let little Willy come out and play!” I chuckled, trying to uncross his legs.

“No, Fi, come on,” he protested.

“Oh, monsieur, a little shy, are we?” she asked, strutting over to him and letting him have a good look at her breasts.

“A-a-a l-l-little bit, yes,” he said, nervous and shaking.

“Well, we can remedy that, can’t we?” she said, staring at me with a flicker of naughtiness in her eyes.

“I’m listening,” I whispered back, trying to reel in the booze on my breath.

“A little competition, if you are so bold,” she proposed.

“What kind of competition?” I responded.

“Handjobs, for the gentlemen here. I’ll take this one, and you try it out on Mr. Shy. If you win, drinks are on me for the rest of the night. If I win, I put my clothes back on, and you’re our stripper for the evening,” she said, pointing to Tony, who was like a kid at Christmas ready to rip open his presents.

“Sure, I guess free drinks is worth it, and besides I kind of already wanted to jerk him off,” I laughed, looking at Willy.

“Alright then, boys, you’re in for a treat, now let’s have those pants down so we can start,” she said, snapping her fingers at them.

Tony was completely ready. He loosened his belt and let his jeans fall on the floor. His manhood perked up in his boxers and sprang into action when he tossed them off as well. Willy was a little more reluctant; he was clearly nervous about being right next to his friend with their dicks out.

Willy did comply eventually, he slipped off his khakis and his underwear as well, showing a promising erection.

“Come on, cherie, let’s get to it then,” she said quickly, not wanting to waste any time.

She knelt right in front of Tony, showing him her tits while she began to stroke his cock. She used one hand to wrap around his member and the other to tickle his sack. I remember thinking that she was awfully aggressive about the action. She used her hands in a furious motion, like the friction itself would light his fire.

She throttled him hard, staring at his cock as if it was about to erupt. Whap! Whap! Whap! I heard as she increased her pace. Tony closed his eyes and pushed his stomach forward and arched his back.

I had a different approach, however, and positioned myself behind Willy on the booth. I hugged him with a tight grip, with my legs wrapped around his body and my breasts pressed into his back. He shivered nervously, but I could tell he was enjoying it by the rigidness of his cock. I settled my chin on his shoulder and held his dick like a baseball bat, with both hands clutched around it.

I began to work it as if I was churning butter. I moved my hands up and down the length of his shaft, and while they moved I made sure that his cock never got twisted in the motion. I stroked him harder and faster once I saw his eyes close, and I gained pleasure from seeing the passion he was feeling. Oh, this is so over. I remember thinking as he became unbelievably stiff. Every muscle and vein in his erect penis bulged out in my hands, which with its tactile form caused my pussy to soak right through my panties.

My hands started to tire. He’s got some stamina, crossed my mind, and I had to alternate between hands. My palm rode gallantly up and down the shaft and to give the hands a rest in between, I slid my thumbs around the crown of his hood.

“If you cum for me right now, I guarantee it won’t be the last time,” I whispered sensually into his ear.

With that last sentence, the battle was won. He fired off like a cannon, blasting his liquid away from us in a celebratory fashion. It rained down upon the floor with our host and Tony in full view of its magnificence. Willy folded like a metal chair and had difficulty moving after the orgasm I had just bestowed upon him.

“I guess that means you win,” she smiled, still with her hands wrapped around Tony’s cock.

“Don’t stop now, you don’t want to give him a pair of bleu balls,” I ordered and snapped my fingers.

She finished off Tony, taking his load full-on in the face. The stripper then wiped off her face, still smiling despite the loss in our little competition.

“Well, I guess that makes you the Queen of Handjobs,” she joked.

I laughed back, and in my new standing I removed my panties and slingshot them at the boys. They were still in a state of absolute shock and pleasure. I moved along the booth so I was removed from the rest of the group. I sat there with my legs spread wide open, exposing my trimmed mound to my new subjects.

I took out a toonie and slipped the coin into my pussy like a slot, pressing the monarch’s face against my lips. I chuckled at the thought of the old broad’s face in my slit.

“Come over here and pay your respects,” I demanded as the stripper crawled--mostly naked, covered in sweat, and covered in some of Tony’s cum--on her hands and knees toward me.

“What can I do for you, cherie?” she asked, staring right at my vagina.

“Lick it,” I ordered.

She nodded with approval and held out her tongue in anticipation. I started to drip with passionate juices as she began to lap her tongue around the sides of my pussy. She was going slow, but it was heavenly. Her tongue carefully grazed my lower lips but returned toward the center, aiming at my clit. As I began to orgasm, I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face deeper.

“God save the queen!” I yelled in a hysterical cackle as she motorboated my mound.

“All hail the queen! ALL HAIL THE QUEEN!” the boys shouted in unison as she picked the coin out with her teeth.

That’s right, boys. All hail the queen--the queen of handjobs