Grind

Author's note: Each story in this series is complete and separate, with no plot or characters in common with the others. Only one thin thread connects them.

Many thanks to Jenna for first editing and improving this story and to Alex R. and oVerallxaVerage for additional editing and suggestions that made it better.

Stan Hardman's life wasn't hard.

He did have to pump iron for an hour or two a few days a week on his own, but he got paid for his aerobic exercise.

Add to his training his genes and age -- mid-20s -- and you get the body of a Greek god. In addition, he was well endowed. The only thing that wasn't quite perfect was his face. He was handsome in a rugged way, but his forehead was small, and there wasn't much to see in his eyes.

The customers at the club where Stan stripped didn't care that his face look brutish. They loved to look at it because it plainly showed his love of his body and his excitement in showing it to them. He and the women fed on each other's lust.

No job is perfect. There were tasks Stan didn't enjoy. When the old broads came around, he always had to do a little acting to pretend that he enjoyed their hands mauling him.

Though he seldom strained his brain, he did think about something during his performance. His audience might believe his head movements, which were always on the beat, were part of his dance, but they were actually scanning the room for his next prey.

The club where Stan worked had a small stage for the men to do their routines and a large dance floor where they mixed with the women once the show was over.

If female strippers did for men what Stan and his colleagues did for women, the police would have busted them. There was a double standard at work. Fondling, stroking, sucking and full-out sex was never restricted at Stan's place of work, as long as it was initiated by the women.

Once the show finished, the music got louder and faster and the lights crazier. Most of the women danced with each other, drank and talked about the men they were watching, but there were always some who put on a second show. They were there to have a stripper get them off.

For most of them, this meant one of the man's hands down their panties and the other one working their breasts while they swayed to the disco music. But satisfaction for some came in other ways, from straight sex to mild sadism.

The men knew that some of the attacks came from abused women. They were using the strippers as surrogates to act out things they would never dare to do to their men. The tormenters always gave them a big tip, so they put up with the harassment.

Stan endured some of the weird stuff while performing because it was hard to avoid it completely, but he didn't put up with it during the second part of the evening. Let the other strippers collect their extra tips. "Part Two," as they called it, was all about him.

Stan thought of himself as a hunter stealthily bagging his quarry. Each night, he looked for a woman to have sex with. His goal was not only to enjoy her but to see how far he could push her -- how much he could humiliate her in front of her friends while making them think she was enjoying his attention.

He selected a backup in case he couldn't bag his number one, but most nights he succeeded with his first choice. When he had started this game, he had looked for vulnerable, good looking women. As time went by, he found that he especially liked the challenge of a shy girl who had been dragged there by her friends.

Sometimes the women got so drunk they reveled in their degradation. But what Stan liked best was when his prey was an unwilling participant and only he and the woman knew what was really going on.

Choreography was the weapon Stan used to get to these women. Everything he did was to the music, and he was always smiling. When they resisted at first, he pretended that the two of them were acting out a charade between lovers. She was playing hard to get, and he was trying to persuade her with a stroke here, a pull there, an arm around the waist, a gentle bump, a button unbuttoned, a zipper pulled a little bit, her hands swallowed by his and a deep kiss on the lips.

He made it all look innocent, and if the woman began screaming, her friends thought it was because she was enjoying Stan's pantomime -- not because he had managed to insert a finger into her pussy or ass or pull one of her breasts out of her bra.

After it was over, the woman often ran to her girlfriends crying. If she complained the next day, her friends thought she was just remorseful for acting like a slut in front of them. After all, hadn't they watched her and Stan do their thing in time to the music? She must have been into it at the time and then ashamed of herself later.

The club management gave Stan a bonus each week because his antics drew big crowds. A few of the videos recorded of him and his victims had to be taken down because of lawsuit threats, but most of the women decided to blame themselves for being drunk rather than get involved with the authorities or lawyers. For Stan Hardman, it was easy to be hard.

Tonight, he had spotted a girl who made his towel rise during his shower room routine. She was sitting far from the small stage, but one of the rotating spotlights shone on her as he turned in her direction. She quickly turned her face away from the light, but not before Stan caught a glimpse of her classic beauty.

When the next performer took the stage, Stan strolled by for a closer look. The girl was wearing a formless, baggy sweat outfit, but he could tell that she was slim with some sexy curves. She was the kind of exotic game that Stan loved to hunt.

While he was performing his last dance, an older woman everyone called "Ugly Linda" began yelling to Stan. She tipped well, so he usually put up with her while dancing, but tonight he ignored her because his mind was preoccupied by the shy beauty in the corner.

When the spotlight moved to another dancer, Stan slowly danced over to the table where his quarry and her friends were sitting. He had pulled on a tight T-shirt and a pair of running shorts after his performance but no underwear to interfere with his plans. Everything had to be smooth, in time to the music and quick enough that the quarry didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

He began dancing by himself close to the table as the last few dancers finished their routines. He saw that several women in the group had noticed him and were pointing him out to the others. One of them said something to his quarry, and she looked at him for a second, then quickly looked away.

He began dancing around their table, and her friends encouraged him. They put their hands on his chest and arms and patted him on the butt. He ignored them and twisted and turned his body through them until suddenly there was no one between himself and his target.

Her face was down and looking at the floor, but he gently lifted it up, all in rhythm, all in rhythm, and did a little strutting step around her. In her face, he thought he saw a look of fear and embarrassment, and it went right to his groin. There was now a protrusion pushing his shorts away from his body.

"Look at his crotch, Mindy, he likes you," he heard one of the friends say.

Another one said, "Come on, Mindy, don't be afraid, touch him there."

He was pleased by their comments and smiled. They were helping him.

Mindy turned her head away from him, but he grasped her hand and pulled her onto the floor, all in rhythm, all in rhythm. The girls sitting with her got up and followed them onto the floor. They surrounded the couple and began clapping as he danced around her while she stood like a statue.

A few of them pulled out their phones and began shooting videos as they yelled encouragement to Mindy. Sometimes they would dance close to her and accidentally on purpose bump her toward Stan. Otherwise, she didn't move.

Stan came up behind her and grabbed her by the waist and began swiveling his pelvis to the music and bumping the protrusion under his shorts against her rear. He heard the girls cheer as they moved closer with their phones.

While bumping her, all in rhythm, all in rhythm, he reached down and notched his thumbs expertly in the waistbands of both her sweats and panties, then squatted down, pulling both thumbs down quickly. Just the top of her ass was exposed. It was as round and perfect as he thought it would be, and he heard a cheer from her friends, who were dancing almost on top of him and his quarry and leaning over to see what he was doing.

She tried to push at his hands, but they didn't give, so she grabbed both waist bands and pulled up frantically.

He smiled and turned his head so that all of those around them saw he was just playing, just having fun, all in rhythm, all in rhythm. He let go, and she yanked her clothes back up. While she was doing that, his hands quickly moved around her and dug under her top until he could feel her bra. He pushed the bra up so her breasts were released. Then he grabbed her top and pulled straight up to show two large breasts bouncing wildly below her bra whenever he bumped into her rear, all in rhythm, all in rhythm.

This time the cheers were louder because his antics had drawn a crowd. Women were moving their heads this way and that to catch a glimpse. The ring of Mindy's friends dancing around them kept others from getting close. They kept kept pushing and bumping Mindy and him together. He was so horny he could barely stand it.

He grabbed her breasts and squeezed them and jiggled them up and down, all in rhythm, all in rhythm. How could such a small girl have such large breasts? He knew the answer: surgery. Her breasts didn't feel artificial, but he knew that plastic surgery could now attach realistic breasts onto any woman that would wobble and flop like the real thing.

Usually, the women who spent the money were eager to let it all hang out and show off their investment. Why was Mindy hiding her enhancements under baggy clothing? He couldn't figure it out. Could it be she really was one of those natural wonders? While he was thinking these thoughts, Mindy was prying at his hands on her breasts in vain.

He smiled and looked around at her friends. He saw some of them tossing around a strange looking rubber ball. The red ball was the size of a baseball, but it wasn't completely round because there was a tapered nozzle coming out of it.

The ball went this way and that, with the tapered part flipping in all directions. The girls were laughing and shouting into each other's ears over the music. One of them put the ball behind Mindy's head, a few inches from his face. With her finger she pulled the ball's snout back and let it go. It wiggled back and forth for a second. Then the ball disappeared from his sight.

Mindy finally gave up trying to pull his hands away from her breasts, but she surprised him by quickly spinning around and moving away from him at the same time, so his hands were grasping thin air.

Before he could go after her, one of her friends jumped in front of him, pushed her mouth on top of his and stuck her tongue halfway down his throat. He was only interested in Mindy and tried to pull away from her friend, but Mindy's friend clasped her hands around his ears and pulled his head closer to her. Suddenly the loud music was muted in his ears.

The woman let go of his ears, put her arms around his neck, clasped her hands and pulled his head tighter to hers as if she was trying to push her tongue even deeper.

Though his ears were no longer covered, the music didn't get louder. Stan felt felt a hand playing with his balls and looked down to see that another of Mindy's friends was between his legs. As he did, another friend behind him pulled down his shorts and pushed a finger between his butt cheeks. The finger rubbed some greasy stuff there and then pushed some of the stuff inside him, pushing, pushing, deep, deep, all in rhythm, all in rhythm. Then the finger was gone.

Stan reached down, pulled his shorts back up and stopped dancing. The woman's mouth was still glued to his and he was reached behind his neck to pull her hands off so he could get free of her mouth. He felt hands pulling his shorts higher, giving him a wedgy. At the same time, he heard a voice.

"Hi Stan," it said.

It was a soft feminine voice.

"You need to look down right now. Thanks for not wearing any underwear. Look where we pulled your shorts up high. Can you see your package?

"One of my friends just tied a slip knot, like you use for a Yo-Yo, around your balls, and I've got the string in my hand. It's a thin string, but it's strong.

"Do you see how I'm slowly pulling your balls out of your shorts? Is it starting to hurt? If you don't do what I say, I'm going to keep pulling your balls until I rip them off your body. Did you know that once balls are separated from a man's body, they don't last long. If you want to go on having sex as a man, you need to do exactly as I say.

"First, I want you to start dancing again. Don't want you to stop until I tell you to. That's it. See, I'm letting the string hang loose. If I need to remind you of something, I'll give it a little tug, like this. While you're dancing, I want you to keep on smiling no matter what happens, just like the night you forced yourself on me.

"Look around my friend, Jeri, the one who's kissing you. I'm over here to the right. Do you recognize me from four months ago? I'm Gloria. Maybe you don't because my hair is a different color and shorter and I've changed my makeup. I'm one of your victims.

"When I told my friends what you had done, they didn't believe me. But I made them come back by themselves a few times, and I described exactly how you were able to do it without anyone knowing. They watched you in action, and they talked to some of your other victims.

"While she kissed you, Jeri stuck the buds into your ears. I'm speaking into a mike that is broadcasting to your earsbuds.

"She's going to lean you backwards with her body while she kisses you. To keep from falling, spread your legs and squat down. That's it. As she pushes you again, so spread your legs wider and squat down more. You're listening well.

"Bravo! That was a big jump. Too bad everyone couldn't see it, but at least my friends surrounding you enjoyed your move. You reacted to our red rubber bulb syringe being pushed in your asshole. That's why I greased you up a few minutes ago.

"Steady! That's it. We've squeezed the bulb empty and pulled the nozzle out. Your insides now have a lot of oil in them, along with a chemical used for enemas.

"In a few minutes, the stuff inside you is going to cause the muscles in your asshole to start spasming. Your ass will begin opening and shutting."

The woman kissing him took her mouth off of his, let go of his neck, grabbed one of his hands and pulled him up from his squat. Then she joined her friends as the voice continued in his ears.

"I'm going to stop talking, because I want you to focus on dancing with Mindy. I want you to bump her face to face."

Her friends pushed Mindy back into his arms, and he saw the same frightened look on her face as he grabbed her waist and started bump, bump, bumping in time to the music. Her friends were dancing around them and preventing anyone else from getting close to the couple. Some of them were recording on their phones.

He stopped for a second and tried to think of something to do, but there was a tug on his balls and he remembered the string. He decided to play along for now with the woman speaking into his ears.

Something slammed into him. He realized Mindy must have bumped back at him as he was bumping her. A few seconds later she did it again. He felt the liquid inside him slosh around. Now each of his bumps was being met by Mindy.

He looked at her, and he was shocked. The timid, frightened look was gone. The expression on her face was lust, mixed with contempt. There was something else that couldn't put his finger on.

He started feeling uncomfortable. His body needed to release what was inside him, but it would be a disaster if he did it on the dance floor. He grimaced as he concentrated on keeping his ass clenched shut.

He got a large bump from Mindy, and then she spun around quickly and escaped his hands. She kept spinning and moving until she was behind him. Now, she grabbed him by the waist and was bumping him from behind, just like he had been doing to her earlier.

He tried to avoid her bumps because they were making his need to expel more urgent, but she held tight and kept bumping.

"Look up at the big screen in front of you," said the woman's voice in his ear.

Stan looked up and saw that the house video man was right behind him and projecting Mindy's bumping dance with him in ninety inches of high definition. He saw her face, and now it looked like she was leering at him. She was obviously aroused, but there was still something else there. What was it?

At the same time as he watched it happening on the screen, he felt one of Mindy's friends pulling his shorts down to his ankles after a hard bump. Two others quickly lifted one leg then the other out of them, and they were pulled away. He was naked below his tight T-shirt.

"Keep dancing," hissed the voice in his ear.

Two of Mindy's friends got behind her. She swayed to the music in place while they grabbed her waistband and slowly pulled her sweatpants down. He saw on the flat screen that she wasn't wearing panties underneath and then suddenly understood her unusual facial expression.

It wasn't the expression of a woman in heat. It was of a man in heat. The women behind her circle of friends screamed in delight. So did the rest of the women in the club who were watching the screen.

They saw a massive cock spring out and start bumping Stan's cheeks, all in rhythm.

He tried to move away, but Mindy's hands held him tight at the waist as she kept bumping her cock at his butt. The big screen made it look monstrous, like a telephone pole.

As he danced, he began moving his ass around, trying to avoid the pole, but suddenly he froze. Too late he realized that he had stopped concentrating on the stuff inside him, and it was making him spasm.

His anus opened for a split second and some of the lube dripped out. It must have been what Mindy was waiting for, because her aim was true as she pushed into his winking brown eye. She had five inches inside before he had time to react, and as he tried to pull away, she bumped him, pushing further in.

She kept bumping, all in rhythm, all in rhythm, until she was buried to the hilt. Then she began gradually pulling out while continuing to bump.

When she was all the way out, she plunged back in so hard that when she hit bottom she lifted him into the air. Her friends had moved away from them so the entire audience, which had stopped dancing and was now watching them, could see everything. Those not close to them saw it magnified larger than life on the screen.

After Stan fell back onto her pole from his space launch, Mindy suddenly stopped and motioned to someone in the crowd. Oh no, it was Ugly Linda.

She eagerly rushed forward, got on her knees in front of Stan and sucked him greedily into her mouth. As she sucked, she started bobbing her head up and down on him. The pain of Mindy's huge pole invading him had made Stan wilt, but Ugly Linda's talents got him aroused in a minute. When he was at full mast, some of Mindy's friends pulled the frustrated Linda away.

"Start whacking yourself," said the voice in his ear as Mindy began slowly pulling all the way out and then slamming back into him. She gradually picked up speed and was soon pulling out as fast as she was thrusting in. He felt like she was ripping the insides out of his body.