Dancing virtually naked on the stage of a dimly lit New York City bar as music throbbed around me, I shimmied my hips at a man on the front row. It felt good to be sensually twisting my body at an audience of horny men and drinking in the lust in their eyes. Their stares and faces, frozen on my every move, were like ambrosia, sending me spiraling around the small stage rubbing my body as if I was spreading sweet honey all over.
Dancing in a strip bar in New York was a long way from attending school in conservative Atlanta and I was relishing in the experience. My hips gyrated in time with the pounding music while I slowly lowered the thong I was wearing to just above my cock. I danced over to the edge of the stage and pulled the thong away from my body, inviting a customer to have a look while he inserted a five dollar bill inside. This gesture always excited me and my cock began to swell. Most of the men in the bar were older businessmen types. It turned me on to realized I was doing the same thing to them.
I gripped my crotch, cupping my swelling cock which was beginning to bulge from the thrill of sixty or so men imaging sex with me. At least that's what I pretended they were doing.
The bills began filling the sides of my thong as men of all ages reached up to the stage to give me their money and cop a feel of my bulge or catch a glimpse of what was inside.
It had been two years since I'd left Atlanta. Following a string of dead end jobs, I finally landed the gig at "Wonder Bar," a "dick" bar near the Village. The experience seemed to temporarily fill the empty space that I always felt inside me; the space that a string of boyfriends hadn't come even close to filling.
My set was coming to an end and I danced to the front center of the stage and twirled to show them my ass. Accompanied by the loud pounding of drums I bent forward slowly pulling down my thong. To the cheers and encouragement of the customers, I jerked it down to my ankles, exposing my puckered ass hole while I stepped out of the small fabric.
I began to slowly then quickly shake my ass at the crowd. A cheer went up from the customers behind me. With the last beat of the drums, I twirled around to face the audience revealing my turgid cock, shaking it back and forth with each movement of my hips as the customers cheered.
When the music stopped I stooped to grab the thong which lay huddled on the stage, turned to wave one last goodbye, and sprinted off the stage. Once in the wings I bent over to step into the thong and felt a light spanking across my butt. Looking up I met the grin of the next stripper and friend, a muscular black man from Canada named Reggie, who said, "You've got them warmed up now, baby."
I grinned back while saying "Break a leg Reggie," then went to the communal dressing room. It was communal because the three to five strippers that worked each night shared the small facility. The small room was usually filled with naked men, talking about all sorts of things and tugging on our cocks getting ready for the next set. It was Saturday night and I had danced my last one. In one corner, Eddie, a hot red head, was down on his knees sucking the hard cock of Raphael, getting him up for his next dance. Strippers liked to "prep" each other that way, while openly enjoying the task. After coming out of the small shower, Jackie, another dancer who had also finished tonight, came into the room. "Hey sweet cakes," a name I was often called around the bar in reference to my ass I was told. "I'm leaving with a man who was impressed with your, "hum, performance. I told him that I'd ask you to join us in a three-way at his apartment?" He then winked, "He's very generous."
I thought a while before responding, "Not tonight Jack, I'm starving and just want to go home, I'm tired."
"I'll tell him that you are taking a rain check," Jackie replied, "That way we'll keep him on a sting for another time." He grabbed his crotch and gave me a lascivious grin.
I waved back at Eddie and felt a hand slip into my thong and grip my cock. It was another stripper finished for the evening. "Do you want me to come over to take care of this, Dave? It'll help you sleep."
I responded "No thanks Mike, not tonight, I'm in the mood to take care of myself tonight."
The room erupted into hoots and whistles and boisterous comments, "The college boy still likes to jack off," said one. "That's your money stick boy, don't use it up," shouted another.
"Yeah," I replied, "like you jack offs don't pound your own." Grinning at our exchange I stripped the thong and finished dressing into street clothes. It was this way in the world of strippers, I had learned. Lasciviousness between the dancers was wholesale, though outside the dressing room we seldom did anything about it. Something about seeking each other naked and frequently erect seemed to take away the mystery. Besides, some of these guys are straight, at least I think so since everyone participates in the banter.
Reggie, however, was different. He and I had gotten drunk one night after the club closed and had wound up in his bed for an all-nighter."
"Jeeze, Davey," I could still hear him; "you've got the best ass I've ever fucked." We had just finished our second round of sex and he kissed me while I slowly caressed my still hard cock. I grinned while emitting a hum. I felt him slide downward over my body and then, gasped, as his warm mouth enveloped my cock to begin slowly going up and down on the shaft. His tongue flicked the head of my prick, creating little rivers of sensation. Reggie gave a great blow job. It was that way between us since our first meeting. We'd have an intense sexual attraction filled with lust, but afterward we grow friendly but sexually indifferent to each other.
Reggie was different from the other guys. It's true that he tricked out for money, had an occasional blow, but the stripper/hooker life style didn't suit him. Born in Montreal, he had a dark swarthy look. He'd even graduated college with a teaching degree. He told me that he'd begun supplementing his income with a little "selling it" on the side. One of his customers happened to be one of the owners of the Wonder Bar who talked him into moving to New York, and the rest was history.
On my way home, I stopped to have a bowl of soup at a local café a block from my apartment. After leaving the restaurant, I saw a dim figure sitting on the stoop of my apartment building. In New York that can be a cause for concern and my antenna went on alert. Then approaching my building I saw that it was Reggie in the dim light.
"Hey," I said walking up, "what are you doing here?" He stood and we embraced on the stoop before entering the building.
"Oh, just a hunch," he said.
"What's that?" I answered."
"Just a hunch," he said as he grabbed my ass, "that you need a little more than a self-party tonight. So here I am at your service, Baby Cakes."
We entered the building and when the elevator closed I turned, grabbing him as our tongues met. I felt his hand go under my jeans and a finger sliding down my ass crack.
