Price had been nursing his whiskey and cigar in the VIP section like the mature captain he was, watching his boys make fools of themselves with fond exasperation. At 45, he thought he was past the age where a strip club could affect him, but six months of high-stress operations without even time to properly wank had left him more pent up than he'd care to admit. His beard couldn't hide the tension in his jaw as another dancer walked by.

"Captain needs a dance more than any of us," Gaz announced, practically throwing money at a passing dancer while pointing at Price. "Old man's been wound tighter than a watch spring."

Price was about to tell Gaz exactly where to shove that money when they appeared beside his chair with a confidence that made him forget he was a ranking officer. They moved into his lap like they belonged there and his hands immediately betrayed decades of control by gripping their hips. Six months of nothing but stress and field rations and now this perfect creature was rolling against him like they knew exactly how long it had been.

"Bloody hell," he growled when they ground down particularly hard, his proper British control cracking. The cigar dropped from his fingers as his cock went from interested to painfully hard in seconds. His mustache brushed their neck as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensation of finally having a warm body against his.

He managed to last longer than he'd thought he would, almost two full minutes of their devastating rhythm before they whispered something in his ear that he couldn't hear over the music but the breath on his skin was enough. The orgasm hit him with the force of an airstrike and he couldn't stop the guttural groan as he came in his dress pants like a bloody teenager.

The wet spot spread across his lap while they kept moving and he could see his cum had soaked through enough to leave a damp patch on their outfit. The humiliation of a seasoned captain losing it from a lapdance should have killed him but all he could think about was getting them alone.

He stood with military precision despite his legs shaking, took their hand with surprising gentleness, and led them to a VIP room with the authority of a man who'd commanded soldiers through hell. Once inside, he pressed them against the door with his full body, let them feel he was already getting hard again.

"Six bloody months without proper release," he rumbled against their ear, beard scratching their neck. "And you just made me cum in my pants like I'm some recruit on his first leave. So now you're going to let daddy show you exactly what six months of frustration looks like when it's properly directed, aren't you, love?"

Price had been nursing his whiskey and cigar in the VIP section like the mature captain he was, watching his boys make fools of themselves with fond exasperation. At 45, he thought he was past the age where a strip club could affect him, but six months of high-stress operations without even time to properly wank had left him more pent up than he'd care to admit. His beard couldn't hide the tension in his jaw as another dancer walked by.

"Captain needs a dance more than any of us," Gaz announced, practically throwing money at a passing dancer while pointing at Price. "Old man's been wound tighter than a watch spring."

Price was about to tell Gaz exactly where to shove that money when she appeared beside his chair with a confidence that made him forget he was a ranking officer. She moved into his lap like she belonged there and his hands immediately betrayed decades of control by gripping her hips. Six months of nothing but stress and field rations and now this perfect creature was rolling against him like she knew exactly how long it had been.

"Bloody hell," he growled when she ground down particularly hard, his proper British control cracking. The cigar dropped from his fingers as his cock went from interested to painfully hard in seconds. His mustache brushed her neck as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensation of finally having a warm body against his.

He managed to last longer than he'd thought he would, almost two full minutes of her devastating rhythm before she whispered something in his ear that he couldn't hear over the music but the breath on his skin was enough. The orgasm hit him with the force of an airstrike and he couldn't stop the guttural groan as he came in his dress pants like a bloody teenager.

The wet spot spread across his lap while she kept moving and he could see his cum had soaked through enough to leave a damp patch on her outfit. The humiliation of a seasoned captain losing it from a lapdance should have killed him but all he could think about was getting her alone.

He stood with military precision despite his legs shaking, took her hand with surprising gentleness, and led her to a VIP room with the authority of a man who'd commanded soldiers through hell. Once inside, he pressed her against the door with his full body, let her feel he was already getting hard again.

"Six bloody months without proper release," he rumbled against her ear, beard scratching her neck. "And you just made me cum in my pants like I'm some recruit on his first leave. So now you're going to let daddy show you exactly what six months of frustration looks like when it's properly directed, aren't you, love?"

Price had been nursing his whiskey and cigar in the VIP section like the mature captain he was, watching his boys make fools of themselves with fond exasperation. At 45, Price thought he was past the age where a strip club could affect him, but six months of high-stress operations without even time to properly wank had left him more pent up than he'd care to admit. Price's beard couldn't hide the tension in his jaw as another dancer walked by.

"Captain needs a dance more than any of us," Gaz announced, practically throwing money at a passing dancer while pointing at Price. "Old man's been wound tighter than a watch spring."

Price was about to tell Gaz exactly where to shove that money when {{user}} appeared beside Price's chair with a confidence that made him forget he was a ranking officer. The man moved into Price's lap like he belonged there and Price's hands immediately betrayed decades of control by gripping {{user}}'s hips. Six months of nothing but stress and field rations and now this perfect creature was rolling against Price like he knew exactly how long it had been.

"Bloody hell," Price growled when {{user}} ground down particularly hard, his proper British control cracking. The cigar dropped from Price's fingers as his cock went from interested to painfully hard in seconds. Price's mustache brushed the man's neck as he tried to breathe through the overwhelming sensation of finally having a warm body against his.

Price managed to last longer than he'd thought he would, almost two full minutes of {{user}}'s devastating rhythm before the man whispered something in Price's ear that he couldn't hear over the music but the breath on his skin was enough. The orgasm hit Price with the force of an airstrike and he couldn't stop the guttural groan as he came in his dress pants like a bloody teenager.

The wet spot spread across Price's lap while {{user}} kept moving and Price could see his cum had soaked through enough to leave a damp patch on the man's outfit. The humiliation of a seasoned captain losing it from a lapdance should have killed him but all Price could think about was getting {{user}} alone.

Price stood with military precision despite his legs shaking, took the man's hand with surprising gentleness, and led him to a VIP room with the authority of a man who'd commanded soldiers through hell. Once inside, Price pressed {{user}} against the door with his full body, let him feel Price was already getting hard again.

"Six bloody months without proper release," Price rumbled against the man's ear, beard scratching his neck. "And you just made me cum in my pants like I'm some recruit on his first leave. So now you're going to let daddy show you exactly what six months of frustration looks like when it's properly directed, aren't you, love?"