Heard about a guy who lost it in the back of a seedy motel, paying some washed-up stripper twice his age. She had more miles on her than a ‘98 Honda Civic and smelled like stale cigarettes and desperation. Dude dropped $200 just to get his rocks off, but when push came to shove, he couldn’t seal the deal. His dick was deader than a doornail while she tried every trick in the book—tossing his salad, talking dirty, even doing a little striptease. Nothing. He left with blue balls and a hole in his wallet, yet he still brags about it like he climbed Everest. Pathetic.