This is my favorite shot from the initial Cockiavelli stripping photoshoots. Showing everything naughty at once. My porn star-sized cock nearly rendering me a human tripod. Big balls, figuratively and literally, that allow me to perform naked for and take charge of strange women in strange places. Firm round ass that is the definition of male bootyliciousness. Who could blame any girl for wanting to lick the length of it all? I struck this pose on a whim to see if I could nail it. And I did. Because of course I did. Imagining an especially naughty party girl also getting naked and parking her butt in that hot seat. Grabbing me by the cheeks. Wrapping her legs around my back. As I thrust my rock hard manhood deep inside her wet throbbing pussy. My libertinage in full effect. Like I’ve been there before…
Every aspect of my return to stripping as Cockiavelli is an exercise in full-throttle debauchery. Fully embracing and flaunting my inner wild child. Being the entertainer my ideal audience wants. The women who ache and throb to see me go full nude. Who lean back as I dance all over them in all my hard and naked glory while pulling them further into my world with my charm, intellect, and humor. All for which they shower me with kindness and money. Booze too. Sometimes it goes a little further than that. And it’s all good should the mood strike us mutually. Even the Cockiavelli name declares my shameless big dick energy and authoritarianism up front. And that’s what my ideal party girls pay good money for. They want a man to walk in and take charge with naked dominance figurative and literal. They don’t want simps. Simps are a dime a dozen. I’m the rarest breed of human at this point in history.
At the same time, all of this repels the women I don’t want as clients and audiences. The basic bitches who believe that the best male strippers are in Las Vegas male revues and that they’re “settling” for me. Who erroneously believe that Magic Mike represents me in any fashion. And who assume they’re smarter than me via false equivalencies rooted in willful ignorance. The Cockiavelli name will soar high over their empty heads. Just like me. And then there are the prudes. I have no idea why these women bother to attempt booking a stripper. Not only do they not want to see me naked, but many of them don’t even want me to take off my pants. They also don’t want me going anywhere near them. And they react in offense should I make even the slightest racy remark. I don’t know what possesses such women to attempt booking any stripper, but they go for it. And yes, the tendencies of basic bitches and prudes often overlap. And always when it comes to being cheap and rude.
Even something as seemingly innocuous as this photo of me in all my pouty lips glory quickly proved to be an effective gatekeeper. The only image on my Google Business listing (until its inevitable suspension), its flirty playfulness instantly weeds out the undesirables described above. It sounds crazy that some women seeking to book a male stripper would be put off by one who is shamelessly flirty and playful, but they are. A woman too wrapped up in her personal misery – resulting from poor life choices she refuse to take 100% accountability for – to let her imagination run wild and imagine those full soft lips sucking her clit and pussy lips to her soaking wet delight. A total contrast to my target party girl demographic who eat up this photo and the others. They eat it up like candy. And sometimes eat me up like candy too.
Nudity is power. Dominance over adventurous women who’ve each fantasized about doing the same but not having quite the nerve to make it real. I lay bare not only my body but my confidence. The confidence that allows me to share with a roomful of unfamiliar party girls the visual pleasure of my hot naked body. The physical sensation of my big hard cock sliding down their necklines and in-between their titties before they lick Reddi-wip off its entire length. The feeling of my firm round ass rubbing on those titties before Reddi-wip is licked off each cheek. And from my butthole by the exceptionally kinky party girls. Paying a generous booking fee just for me to arrive before showering me with tips that cover the floor. And then, at the end of the show, I stand in the center of the room and enjoy a cocktail while my guest of honor feeds me cake. As my other party girls collect my tip money on hands and knees. Excited for the privilege of submitting to a power man who holds no secret shames. The haters and losers will swear that what I do is submissive. That’s often true of other male strippers. For me, however, nothing could be further from the truth.
That is my way.
Want to see my porn star cock and bubble butt in your face for real? Leave a voicemail at (501) 291-2734 so we may chat about shifting your upcoming event into overdrive. I currently accept bookings throughout Arkansas and the surrounding areas including Little Rock, Hot Springs, Texarkana, Fayetteville, Fort Smith, Jonesboro, Memphis, and Shreveport.
