I entered the smoky, dimly lit bar and sat in a stool next to the runway. Pinpoints of lights twinkled overhead in a starry, starry night of aroused anticipation. A lithe blond hunk sauntered over to me, two glasses and a bottle of bubbly in hand. He stood close to me, our pelvises touching in electric connection, as he arched his torso away from me, a teasing smile on his lips. We drank as we explored each other with our eyes and he undressed me with his baby blues. Beams of colored lights slowly emerged, bouncing off a twirling silver ball in the ceiling, and music rose from a hidden band. He laughed, blew me a kiss, and stood and mounted the runway.
He slowly, sensuously stripped down, and then he was dancing. There were shouts of approval and enthusiasm all around us, but he was dancing just for me. He stood on the runway close in front of me, his heavy cock and balls slowly swaying to the music of the band as he danced in undulating rhythm, his long blond hair waving around his head. I pulled his cock to me with my soft eyes and made love to it. He laughed and arched his back. His hips gyrated and wiggled and pumped as he danced above me, thrusting his throbbing cock at me, again and again. He sighed and moaned for me. I arched my back in sexual exhilaration and ecstasy, as the lights bouncing off the silver ball intensified and burbling applause and catcalls flooded in on us. But he was dancing just for me.