Tate had to admit that the place wasn’t as bad as he had been expecting. He had been reluctant at first to join his gay friend Mick to the gay club, but he had thought it better than to let Mick sit in and mope all night again. It had been almost a month since Mick’s boyfriend had dumped him and he hadn’t taken it well at all. Perhaps a trip to the local gay strip joint would do something to cheer him up.
And for a place he had expected to be filled with mind-numbingly camp men and obnoxiously feminine clothing, he had been deeply surprised. Most of the patrons in attendance could have snapped him in half with barely a second thought, and there was more muscle on display than at his local gym. The men that danced and kissed on the dancefloor were both powerful in appearance and commanding in presence, and for the first time in his life Tate briefly imagined himself being bent over by another guy and fucked however they liked.
As he had expected the notion turned his stomach, and he regretted letting his mind wander. Though he was close friends with Mick and had an assortment of other homosexual friends, the idea of engaging in their form of sex just did not sit well with him.
He quickly discovered that the unfortunate side effect of entering a gay club as a fit, attractive straight man was that there was no way of outwardly signalling to the gay patrons that they were very much not his type, so to speak. A dozen men hit on him in the span of a few hours as he stood at the bar, Mick off somewhere enjoying himself, and a dozen men were turned away.
With little else to do, he moved over to the muscular pole dancer in the centre of the room. The dancer was not the sort of man Tate would have ever imagined to be gay if he had seen him on the street or at the gym: he was incredibly fit, his abs rippling as he moved, and his chest was decorated with a wide tattoo stretching from shoulder to shoulder. He was handsome and danced well, and Tate found that the fluorescent yellow and pale blue colours of his jockstrap drew his eye unwillingly to the man’s crotch. A number of dollar bills of escalating values had been slipped into the straps, and a number were stuffed around his balls and dick. No doubt the men cramming them there had rewarded themselves with a little feel.
Over the course of about half an hour, Tate watched the man closely. He watched the fluid movements of his body, the supple skin sweeping over hard muscles, and the gentle way the man groped himself to please the men around him. Occasionally, other patrons would step up and slip him more cash, and he would reward them with a personal dance, grinding his crotch into their giddy faces.
To Tate’s surprise, however, whenever the man was not being paid for – and often when he was – his eyes would return to Tate. He seemed to be eating him up, licking his lips and running his thumb along his lower lip as he looked the straight man up and down. At length he beckoned Tate over, and if only to gently let the man down Tate crossed to him.
‘You look like you want something extra, pretty boy,’ he said, his voice smooth and coaxing.
Tate shook his head politely. ‘Sorry dude, I’m straight. I’m just here to support my friend.’
A coy smile plucked at the dancer’s lips and he leaned in closer, bouncing his ass up the pole as he did so. He breathed into Tate’s ear as he spoke, the warm air tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. ‘Ten minutes in a private room says you’re wrong. I won’t lay a finger on you either. At least, not unless you want me too.’
So close to him, Tate’s nostrils were filled with the rich, cloying scent of the man’s aftershave. The taste of it lined his throat and it felt as though it were swirling through his body, up into his brain, infiltrating every part of his person. A few minutes before and he would have turned the man down at once, yet something inside him led him to answer differently.
‘Alright, deal. What’s in it for both of us?’
‘If I’m wrong, you walk away with all the cash in my jockstrap. If I’m right, you have to do something for me.’ Without trying to seem creepy, Tate quickly scanned the man’s jockstrap, and a twisted logic took root in his mind. He knew he wasn’t gay, and that he could walk away right then, but if he went along with this he could leave the club with somewhere over five hundred bucks in cash. He affirmed himself again and with a sly grin the dancer rose up again.
Slinking off of the stage, he was replaced by a new man, and Tate watched as he left the stage by a short flight of stairs. Standing on the opposite side of the club, he beckoned Tate over before disappearing through a door.
Walking over, Tate could still smell and taste the aftershave. Despite his absence, it seemed to be growing stronger. By now it had seeped throughout his entire body and with every step towards his first gay encounter it seemed to strengthen inside of him, sinking itself deeper into his person, his mind.
Of course he would not do anything with the man. Of course he would walk out with all that cash. Of course he would bow down and serve him.
He knew he was right. He knew he was straight. He knew he needed to taste the man’s seed.
He just wanted to help the man see that not everybody who visited was secretly gay. He just wanted to pass the time while Mick was somewhere blowing some random dude. He just wanted the man to fuck him rough.
He would never let somebody tell him who he was inside. He would never do anything with a guy. He would never be the same again.
The intrusive thoughts did not seem to bother Tate at all, and by the time he reached the door, passed through it and heard it lock behind him they were more numerous than his natural conscious thoughts.
He found the man reclining on one of the leather-padded blocks that filled the room, all set at perfect heights for different positions. The throb of music from the club outside was dulled by thick soundproofing, the walls were lined with decorative blocks and the room was lit softly, bright pink strip lights set into the walls around the block décor and a spotlight shining down. He was stark naked, his dick rock hard. He smiled as he looked Tate up and down and noticed that the ‘straight’ man could not tear his eyes away from his magnificent dick.
‘Take off your clothes,’ he said.
To Tate’s own surprise, he did. Quickly. Willingly. To his even greater surprise, he felt his own erection growing as he did so. He was naked in a room with another naked man and something about that and the improbability of it was fucking hot.
‘Come here and kneel.’
Tate’s mind tumbled with confusion. Though he could still remember being adamantly straight, that no longer seemed to matter. In barely five minutes, the manipulative sensory overload of the man’s aftershave had torn down everything he had once believed, and every ounce of his being was so willing to obey the man that he practically fell over himself to get there. Kneeling before the dancer his chest rose and fell heavily. He knew what was coming, and he could not wait.
With a grin, the man twitched his dick. ‘Feast.’
As though he had been born to do so, Tate went down on the pole dancer’s pole with an almost violent enthusiasm. At first he sucked greedily, inexperienced as he was and unsure exactly of what he was doing. Yet with each bob of his head he learned more – listening to the man’s reactions, gauging the horniness of his moans, noting the way his dick moved and throbbed with each different action – and with additional guidance from the man he was soon giving the blowjob of a sensual lover rather than a novice. At the man’s insistence he lifted his ass and took the base of his shaft in his hand to enhance the pleasure. His saliva soon streaked down the man’s twitching dick and he moaned as he felt himself reach a level of erection he had never known before. The sensation of obedience was mind-blowing, as was the idea that he was serving such a fucking hunk, yet by far the most arousing thing was that in as little as a few minutes, a few words and a whiff of aftershave, the man had torn down Tate’s entire world view and turned him into a pliant plaything.
After what felt like an eternity, the man unleashed his load into Tate’s mouth, who swallowed it greedily. It tasted salty and perfect and he slurped up every drop that leaked from the man’s head.
Glancing up at a clock above the door that Tate had not noticed, the man smiled. ‘Nine minutes and fifteen seconds. You lost the deal.’
Sitting back, Tate sighed dreamily. He didn’t care. The man had been right. Or, at least, he had made Tate into a man different to who he was so shortly before. Breathless and still savouring the taste of the man’s seed, he whispered softly. ‘You said I have to do something for you if I lose. What is it?’
The man grinned. ‘You have to join the club as a gay stripper. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love it. We teach supposedly straight guys like you how easy they are to manipulate all the time. I’ll get you one of our nice bottles of aftershave and you’ll be fucking gay guys and straight guys sooner than you know it. Fortunately for you, we have a little initiation ceremony here. All new strippers have to go through it.’
‘What ceremony?’ he breathed, barely daring to hear the answer.
In response, he was manhandled onto all fours atop one of the padded boxes, and in a matter of seconds the man’s tongue was in his ass. Rimming him hard, Tate flinched and giggled as the man’s tongue tickled places that had never been tickled before and that he wanted tickled much more often. It was more erotic than any experience he had ever had with a woman, and his dick bucked up into his chest as it tried to reach a level of erection that he could not physically achieve. He had never been so aroused, and the snatches of the groans and moans assured the dancer that this broken straight man would fit in very nicely indeed. While he rimmed the new stripper, he slowly worked a white jockstrap up Tate’s legs until it was over his hips, pulling aside the groin to allow his dick freedom.
As he pulled away and prepared to enter Tate, he stroked his ass. ‘It’s not often I meet a straight guy who waxes,’ he growled, ‘I’m impressed.’
‘I like to keep clean,’ Tate replied.
Leaning close into his ear, the dancer lined his dick up with Tate’s virgin hole. ‘Then let’s see how dirty we can make you feel, shall we?’
The fucking was more intense than Tate could have ever imagined. The feeling of the dancer’s big, rock hard dick inside him sent stars popping across his vision and he moaned more deep and guttural than he ever had in his life. He felt so complete and so deeply, deeply horny that he craved more with every passing second. Soon he was rocking on the man’s dick with all the enthusiasm of an anal whore, and the dancer himself began to moan as the new stripper worked his dick in ways that no new initiate ever had. The slapping of their thighs filled the room and they soon dissolved into little more than animals, fucking with screams of carnal lust.
When at last the man climaxed, Tate had already jizzed over the leather padding hard, and the man forced him to lick it up, and well as gulp down the contents of the condom he carefully removed and tipped into Tate’s waiting mouth. He slurped it up happily and flopped back onto the furniture where he drifted off to sleep…
A few weeks later, Tate had taken the strip club by storm. The patrons loved his shows and he was easily the new favourite of everyone who visited. He worked the pole as though he had been born to do it, and as one of the biggest sluts in the joint he was increasingly popular with those patrons who wanted a little extra out of their visit. Mick could not believe the transformation in his friend, and for a while felt very offended that Tate had not been able to tell him of his homosexuality. Though that did nothing to stop him jerking off in the front row of the club most night during Tate’s shows, and sometimes paying for a little quality time with his friend cum stripper.
As for Tate, he had never been happier. His old life seemed little more than a haze to him anymore, and with every application of the club’s perfect aftershave those memories grew a little blurrier. Most nights when the club closed he would head back with one of his fellow strippers to fuck like animals, their raw horniness never satisfied for long. If there was one thing he knew about his new life, however, it was that he could not stand any man who visited denying his homosexuality with claims of being straight. They were all so disillusioned, so inaccurately confident in their understanding of themselves. Whenever he met one he knew just what lesson they had to learn, and he felt so strongly on the matter that he rarely allowed the men the luxury or privacy of a private room to teach them…
Thanks for reading!
Starting out September with a gay story and I’m absolutely in love with this one. I know it is a good way off, but I am thinking about potentially doing a month of gay stories at some point next year. I do a lot of non-gay captions on this blog but I thoroughly enjoy those gay captions I do write, so an all gay or part gay month seems like it would be great fun to do. I’m think something like Gaypril, Gay May or AuGayst, just to give it a bit of ring. All gay or shemale stories. Let me know what you think!
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0 Thoughts on “In The Club”
Gaypril – my birth month…
I think it also sounds better than the others, so that’s certainly what I was leaning towards