Donald Hump; The story of the greatest male stripper ever.
Book by: Tkorg
Donald J. Trump was born June 14 1946 in queens New York. He was raise in New York as well. Then he moved to Pennsylvania, to attend Wharton School of The University of Pennsylvania, were he earned his bachelor's degree in economics. Then he soon got his small loan of one million dollars and was on his way to the top, ironically so since Donald was an obvious power bottom. The almost alien like creature was shady on the streets but freaky in the sheets. He dreamed every night of showing his slooty, unkept body to the male truckers of the world. To have his thin potato chip like hair whip sweat and a mixture of body oil and self tanner as he did sexy drops on the pole of the strippers. Little did Donald know his dreams would soon come true.
Donald travel for a bit after college, checking out the lower, poor people, scouting out the people he'd soon be giving grade a, boner inducing lap dances to. His crusty, almost desert like mouth water at the thought of it. He practiced his hip rolls and orgasm noises till he fell asleep. He'd grind any chance he got, making his sexy edge sharp enough to kill a man. Donald was so obsessed with his erotic dance moves he cried in frustration whenever he messed up, which was never. He was a sex indicating machine, all oiled up and ready to ride. (Quite literally) He finally made his way to Wyoming, were the Jersey shore washed up version of double o'seven had the chance to let his fireworks shoot across the sky. Because baby he was gonna make em' go uh uh uh. He strutted into the strip club sassily as he found the manger.
"Excuse me dummy! I'm Donald and I'm gonna huge!" He sassed in his overly stereotypical homosexual voice. The mangers eye racked over the oddly tall, strangely colored man. He smiled as Donald started swaying his narrow, white boy hips. Donald was showing him the goods, and the manger wasn't looking to embargo.
"Damn you're fine son. I'm Steve. Welcome to Hella Horny my dear." The manger announced, eyes still lingering on Donald's boyish build. Steve went to grab Donald's baloney barb like butt cheek, to feel the flatness of Donald's untoned ass. Donald slapped his hand away.
"Don't check out what you can't buy, and honey you can't afford me.." Donald smirked. Steve had a full hard on, but didn't let that get the best of him.
"You start Monday. Bring a thong and your banging bod." Steve groaned at the concealer lacking man.
"Damn straight." Donald answered and walked away, swaying his hips, creating enough friction to start a fire.
This is the american dream. This was Donald's American dream.
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