Ken James Fiction
Male strippers get wild at a gay billionaire's party.
"Richard, you're on in five minutes." The manager's voice cut through Rick's near-doze.
Rick Wright, who danced under the name "Richard Long," was sitting in the beat-up old easy chair in the corner of the bar storeroom which doubled as the dancers' dressing room. The book on database design in Rick's lap was dull reading and he'd been fighting sleep for the past half hour.
The clock over the door read "1:30 a.m." It was time for his last dance. It was early Saturday morning, so he could sleep in. That was way better than Tuesday, when he danced until midnight, then had to get up for an 8:00 a.m. class. Still, he figured there were lots of worse ways for a college student to make extra money.
Rick stood up, stretched and made a few dance moves to make sure his muscles were sufficiently warmed-up. He swigged bottled water, then examined his reflection in the tall wall mirror. Not bad. He was 21 years old, 5'10" tall, weighed 175 pounds, and was nicely muscled from dancing and the gym. His eyes were blue. His brown hair was so fine and silky that he'd given up on the spiky hair styles. Even with a fistful of styling gel, his hair would be flat on his head within fifteen minutes, so he'd just cut it short.
The current dancer's last song was fading out. Rick made a final adjustment to his posing strap, a tiny black thong with a fabric pouch barely containing his cock and balls, and then stepped into the heat of the barroom as the DJ announced, "Once again, Harry's Garage is proud to present Richard Long!"
Drums pounded through the sound system as Rick ran through the applauding crowd. A pulsing synthesizer bass line joined the drums as he approached the platform. He jumped up onto the tiny stand under the spotlights just as the melody started.
The first song was fast. Dancing to it was like a hard workout. Within two minutes, Rick's body was slick with sweat. The next song was slower, allowing Rick to be sensual, with a lot of suggestive hand, butt and pelvic motion. Rick liked the slow songs because they allowed him to get really sexy. It was also easier for the patrons to stuff money into the waist band of his posing strap. Harry's Garage paid him $50 a night, but he usually made a couple hundred more in tips.
Rick finished his 20 minute set with another fast song. The crowd applauded wildly as he took a final bow and left the stand.
Back in the dressing room, he grabbed a towel and began wiping the sweat off his body. The manager stuck his head in the door and said, "Richard, there's a guy outside that wants to talk to you. Is that okay?" Rick nodded.
A man entered, unobtrusively slipping a bill into the manager's hand as he came through the door. He was in his forties, dark-skinned, short, balding and pudgy. Despite the heat, he was dressed in a dark sports coat and tie. "Mister Long, my name is Joel Cairo. I have a proposition for you—"
"Sorry Mister Cairo, I'm not a hustler," Rick said quickly.
"Of course not," Cairo answered smoothly. "I am not attempting to proposition you for sex. My employer is giving a private party tomorrow night. He has instructed me to retain male dancers to provide entertainment."
"I don't know," Rick replied. "Finals are coming up and I need to be studying."
"I quite understand the large amount of studying a college student must do to be successful," Cairo said. "However, I also understand the finances of college students. My employer is prepared to be most generous. Shall we say $1,500 for one night's work, paid in cash when you arrive at the door?" He paused. "Plus tips, of course. And the guests tip well."
Rick couldn't quite believe his ears. "And it's just dancing?"
"Assuredly," Cairo replied. "Although my employer would prefer that you dance completely naked, rather than retaining the flimsy concealment you are required to employ in this fine establishment."
"I can handle that," Rick said. "I'm pretty near naked with the posing strap, anyway."
"And my employer would prefer that you begin your performance fully clothed and gradually disrobe."
"No problem," Rick said. "I've done the male stripper thing before. Will there be women there?"
"No," Cairo answered. "It will be exclusively male. I assume that is acceptable."
"Sure." Rick had stripped for women. It paid well, but he was gay and preferred performing for men.
"Excellent." Cairo handed Rick a slip of paper. "So, I can count on you to be at this address at 8:00 p.m. tomorrow?" He left swiftly after Rick agreed.
* * *
Rick arrived at the West Austin address at 7:45 p.m. He stopped at the booth in front of the steel gate and gave his name to an athletic young man wearing a stylish quasi-military uniform. "Welcome, Mr. Long." He pressed a button to open the gate. "Go straight up the drive. Parking is on the left."
The driveway wound through trees for a quarter mile before the house came into view. It was a three story art deco palace, perched on the top of a hill. The parking area was almost full. Rick's 10-year-old Nissan looked decidedly out of place among the luxury cars. He took a small suitcase out of the trunk and walked to the front of the house.
A tall, gray-haired man in a tuxedo guarded the front entrance. He was ruggedly handsome, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a trim athletic figure. Rick guessed he was in his mid-50s. "Mr. Long, I presume." He spoke with a distinguished-sounding English accent. When Rick nodded, the butler continued, "Welcome to the Armitage residence. Mister Cairo will see you in the sitting room."
The butler gestured toward a door on the left. Before Rick could take a step, Joel Cairo emerged from the room. "Welcome, Mister Long," he gushed. "It is so good of you to come. Please walk this way." He spun around and minced off.
"I can't walk that way," Rick thought as he followed Cairo into the sitting room.
"Here is your fee." Cairo opened the drawer of a small writing desk and pulled out an envelope. Rick took it and looked inside. It contained 15 crisp $100 bills.
"Thanks, Mister Cairo." Rick stuffed the envelope into his pocket.
"Some of the guests may wish to fondle you while you are dancing," Cairo said. "If this attention is unwelcome, simply tell the individual to desist. He will respect your wishes."
"What if I don't want anybody touching me?"
"Then we will notify the guests that you are to be left alone," Cairo answered. "Is that your desire? I observed that you allowed some of the bar patrons to touch you last night."
"I guess it depends on who does the fondling. Is there anything else?"
"You will be dancing for 20 minutes out of each hour, from 9:00 p.m. until midnight." Cairo pointed to Rick's suitcase. "Is your costume in there?"
"Sure is." He'd actually brought two. Hot cop and lumberjack.
"Excellent," Cairo beamed. "The . . . um . . . 'strip show' . . . will begin at 9:00 p.m. There will be two other performers. 'Dan Dangler' and 'Roderick Ramm.' Perhaps you are acquainted with them?"
"I know Dan." His real name was "Dan Alexander" and he danced at Harry's Garage, Bunz—the bar with male strip shows for women only—and several other clubs. Rick had tricked with him a few times.
"And I've seen the videos from Ram Rod Productions." Rod's videos were on a high-end streaming service that Rick couldn't afford, but there were low-res versions all over the free gay porn sites.
"The three of you may take turns dancing," Cairo continued. "But, if you wish to dance together, that is acceptable." His lips curled into a greasy smile. "And you may interact with each other . . . and the men in the audience . . . in any way you desire." His smile widened. "In fact, Mr. Armitage encourages interaction."
"Uh . . ."
"You do not have to do anything you don't want to do." Cairo took a black plastic watch out of the drawer, and handed it to Rick. "This is your ARTwatch. It gives you access to selected parts of the house."
Rick took his own watch off and put it in his pocket, than fastened the new watch around his wrist. Its top was a black mirror, but when he flipped his wrist up, it displayed an old-fashioned analog watch face. "I guess I'm supposed to wear this all the time."
"Yes," Cairo said. "It is waterproof and close to invulnerable." He glanced at his own watch. It was identical to the one he'd given Rick. "It's 8:00 p.m. You start in an hour." He stood up and started for the door. "I'll show you to the performers' lounge."
When Rick followed Cairo out of the sitting room, he saw Dan Alexander at the front door, flirting with the butler. Dan grinned and waved at Rick, then turned back to the older man and asked, "So, what's the Royal Marines' version of 'Take it easy, okay?'"
The performers' lounge was a medium-sized room filled with comfortable modern furniture. Three make-up mirrors were spaced along one wall. Cairo pulled a curtain aside, revealing several lockers. He pointed to the first one. "This one is yours." Its front was smooth fine-grained wood, blank except for the embossed steel letters "ART" and a small square of black glass.
Cairo pointed to the glass. "Put your thumb there. Then on the ARTwatch."
Rich did and the locker door opened silently. "Only your thumb will open it," Cairo said.
"Cool." Armitage Research Technologies was a Fortune 25 robotics, communications, and consumer products company. Its ART products were very popular, but also extremely expensive. He put the envelope of cash on the top shelf and pressed a softly-glowing button. The door closed with a soft click.
"Please make yourself comfortable." Cairo gestured to a small wet bar at the far end of the room and then bustled out.
The shelf behind the bar held bottles of top shelf liquor. The refrigerator was stocked with champagne, several brands of beer, and expensive bottled water. An elaborately-carved mahogany box filled with machine-rolled joints sat on the counter.
Rick took a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and sank into one of the chairs, facing a giant wall-mounted flatscreen showing pictures of naked men. This place and the people in it were a bit overwhelming. Still, a gig was a gig. He'd danced for private parties before, but the audience had always been women. They'd gotten pretty raunchy, especially after a few drinks. He wondered what a group of gay men would be like. His cock stirred at the thought.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite Dick." Dan Alexander waltzed into the room, followed by Joel Cairo. He was a big black bodybuilder, Rick's age, but bigger and heavier, with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard, wearing tight khaki shorts and an equally tight white tank top that showed off his muscular body. "How's it hangin', Bro."
Rick stood up and embraced Dan. "Getting' pretty hard, Stud." He kissed Dan, who kissed him back, using a lot of dirty tongue.
Dan grinned. "It's a lot harder now." He ran his hand over the bulge in Rick's jeans.
"Yeah. You do that to me."
Cairo cleared his throat. "Mr. Dangler."
Dan patted Rick's ass and then turned to face the older man. "Yes?"
"If I may have your attention for a moment." Cairo went through the ARTwatch and locker routine with Dan, the looked at his own ARTwatch and frowned. "Mr. Ramm should be here by now." He shook his head and sighed. "These Hollywood types."
After Cairo left, Dan took Rick in his arms and kissed him again, long and hard, leaving both young men with massive erections. "Damn, you feel good," Dan said.
"So do you," Rick answered. "It's been too long,"
"Sure has. It's just so hard . . ." Dan ground his crotch bulge into the bulge in Rick's jeans.
Rick laughed. "We're sure fuckin' hard."
"Yeah," Dan agreed. "You always get me turned on."
"Same here, Stud." Rick looked at the clock on the wall over the makeup mirrors. It was a big square of fine-grained wood with softly-glowing modernistic hands and numbers. The embossed steel letters "ART" were set in one corner. "It's 8:20 p.m." He pointed to the long couch stretched along one wall. "Plenty of time for a quick roll in the hay."
"It's tempting," Dan said. "But Cairo could come back."
"You think he'd mind?"
"Well, he's sure got a poker up his ass," Dan answered.
"I bet he'd rather have a dick up his butt," Rick said. He and Dan laughed.
"Most likely," Dan agreed. "I think everyone in this house is gay. Sean sure is."
"The butler?" Rick asked. "He's all right, for an old guy."
Dan nodded. "Sean was a Royal Marine and he is in shape. He could kick both our butts without breaking a sweat."
"I'd rather have him fuck our asses."
"That could be arranged," Dan said. "In fact, I've made a date with him. After the gig tonight."
"You slut!" Rick laughed and slapped Dan's muscular butt.
"Use it or lose it, Bro."
"No problem of that with you."
"Well . . . Between school and dancing, I don't get as much sex as I'd like." Dan was an Electrical Engineering major, as well as being active in the GBT Delta Lambda Phi fraternity. "I told Sean that 'sexy soldier' was one of my costumes." Dan grinned. "He said he was going to teach me how to really use a bayonet."
"I'm sure he will. But, that's later. " Rick looked over at the couch and then up at the clock. "There's still time for that roll in the hay."
"Well . . . maybe we could fool around a bit." Dan reached for Rick's belt. As he was unfastening its buckle, the door opened with a soft click.
Joel Cairo came in, followed by a muscular man in his mid-20s. He had tangled shoulder-length dark brown hair with blond highlights and a black mustache and goatee. He was wearing a torn white undershirt and frayed blue jean cutoffs. "Fuck your schedule," he said, slurring his words slightly. "I'm here now, aren't I."
"Yes, Mr. Ramm," Cairo answered. "But Mr. Armitage—"
"Fuck Mr. Armitage." Rod Ramm bent Cairo over and humped his butt through their clothes. "And I probably will, before the night is over."
He reached around the older man's body and groped his crotch. "I'm worth way more than what your boss is paying me and he knows it. And if he doesn't, he'll learn fast enough." He pushed Cairo away. "Now, go polish your knob."
"Just be ready to perform." Cairo minced out.
"Fuckin' little ass-kissin' prick," Rod growled after the door had closed behind Cairo. "I'm so goddamned tired of these rich assholes and the self-important turds who work for them."
He seemed to notice Rick and Dan for the first time. "You must be the other dick dancers."
"Yeah," Dan answered. Rick just nodded. Rod had an impressive bulge in his tight-fitting cutoffs, but he was a lot shorter than he looked in his videos.
"Welcome to the big time." Rod looked around the room. "Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around this place?" He stumbled over to the bar, took a bottle of Bunnahabhain 25 off the shelf, and splashed the Scotch into an oversized tumbler, spilling a little on the counter. "Guess this will do."
Rick winced as he watched Rod down half the liquor with one gulp. He'd worked in a high-end liquor store for a while. That bottle of Scotch cost $900, which was a month's rent on his one-bedroom apartment. Oh well. Mr. Armitage could afford it.
Rod reached for the bottle again, but then hesitated. He opened the mahogany box and frowned. "No coke? What kind of cheap ass place is this?" He looked at Dan and Rick accusingly. "Did the two of you use up all the blow?"
Dan just glared back at Rod. "That's the price of getting here late," Rick said.
Rod balled his hands into fists and took a step forward, then shook his head and laughed. "Okay, you got me." He took a joint out of the box and lit it with a crystal lighter. "I'm being a prick. Sorry, but I've had . . . uh . . ." He took a few deep tokes, drawing the smoke in slowly, holding it for a long time, and then letting it out gradually. "Let's just say it's been a rough week." He held the joint out. "Want some?"
Dan hesitated, but then took the joint. "Oh, why not?" Rick had never seen him smoke pot before. He took a long drag and then passed it to Rick. "It's a party," Dan said, letting the smoke trickle out of his lungs. "Might as well get in the spirit."
They passed the joint. Rick poured himself a quarter glass of Bunnahabhain and sipped it slowly, savoring every expensive drop. Even the rich peat-heavy fumes were intoxicating.
The clock over the makeup mirrors chimed softly. It was 8:50 p.m. "Showtime," Rick said. "Who goes first?"
"Not me." Rod lit another joint. "I'm the headliner."
Dan shrugged. "I'll do it." He opened his suitcase and took a police uniform out.
Rick laughed. "You're doing 'hot cop?'"
"Sure. That always gets a good reaction from the ladies. I bet gay men will like it, too."
"No doubt." Rick opened his suitcase, revealing his own cop outfit. "I guess I'll do 'sexy lumberjack.'"
"No," Dan said. "Let's dance together. Two cops are better than one."
* * *
Cairo showed up at 8:59 p.m. He led Rick and Dan down a wide utility hall with a smooth tile floor and bare walls. They stopped at a pair of heavy wood doors. "This is the party room." He opened one of the doors. "There is no stage. That will make it easier for you to interact with the audience."
He gave them an oily smile. "The more you interact with the men, the better your tips will be." The audience members could use their ARTwatches to tip the dancers. Rick's and Dan's ARTwatches would vibrate every time they received a tip.
"Okay . . . Stud." Dan put his hand on Cairo's butt and fondled his crack, making the older man squirm uncomfortably. "We can handle the interaction stuff." He slapped Cairo's ass and stepped away, then blew Rick a kiss. "Come on, Bro. It's showtime."
"All right." Rick bent over, bumping his butt into Cairo's crotch, then straightened up and took Dan's hand. "Let's go interact." They stepped into a large room illuminated by swirling colored lights and pulsing with dance music. It had a big dance floor with an elaborate lighting system, a DJ booth, and a long bar stretching along the far wall.
White lights came up and the music faded when Rick and Dan reached the middle of the dance floor. The room held at least two dozen men in various states of dress and undress, from slacks, sports coats, and ties to totally naked. Many of them were wearing leather.
The crowd cheered and a tall muscular man with a black buzz cut and beard stubble joined Rick and Dan in the spotlight. He was wearing a black leather jockstrap, a black leather and chrome chest harness, and heavy black work boots. Rick recognized him instantly. He was Steve Steele, owner of Steel Steve's Global Health Club, a very public advocate of LGBTQ causes, and—more privately—a relentless butt slut who'd entertained half the muscle men in Austin.
Steve grinned and struck a body-building pose, showing off his bulging chest, arms, legs, crotch, and super-sculpted ass. He thrust his crotch forward, displaying the big bulge in his jockstrap.
"Gentlemen!" Steve's booming voice filled the room. "And you guys, too." The crowd cheered and reached for him. He kissed one guy and said, "Later, dearie." He patted another man's butt and fondled a stiff dick, then stepped between Rick and Dan. "Doms and subs! Pitchers and catchers! Big dogs and little puppies! Lend me your ears!"
"I'll lend you my cock," a big hairy bodybuilder with a heavy beard and mustache called.
Steve gave the man a thumbs up gesture, then went on. "It gives me a great boner . . . uh . . . pleasure . . . to introduce . . ." He took Rick's hand and held it high in the air. "The ever-exciting, ever-hard . . . Officer Richard Long!" He slid his hand down to Rick's butt. "If you think you've seen long . . . You haven't seen Dick!" The crowd cheered and Rick's already-swollen cock grew even harder.
"And in this corner . . ." Steve moved over to Dan and ran his hands over the big bodybuilder's arms and chest. ". . . The cop you most want to meet in a dark alley . . . Officer Dan Dangle!" He stepped in front of Dan and bent over, grinding his ass into Dan's bulging crotch. "The hardest man on the force." The crowd's cheers grew even louder.
Steve straightened up and faced the crowd. "So, bitches. Bend over and give it up for our hot cops!" The music came up as he sashayed away, waving his butt suggestively at Dan and Rick.
The first song was uptempo. Rick and Dan gyrated to its pulsating beat while trading frequent glances. They'd decided to leave the music to the DJ, but had planned a set of coordinated moves.
They were both wearing black uniform caps, black short-sleeved police shirts with embroidered badges, black pants, highly-polished black boots, and shiny black leather belts.
Rick saw Dan unfasten his shirt collar and copied him. The two men danced through the crowd, unbuttoning their uniform shirts and pulling them open, exposing their muscular chests. Rick's ARTwatch vibrated briefly. He'd just received a tip.
"Yeah! Show us your tits!" A shirtless man wearing tight blue jeans put his hands on Rick's chest and pinched his nipples. "Damn! You are fucking hot!" He tried to pull away, but Rick caught his hands and held them in place. The men surrounding him cheered and his ARTwatch buzzed several more times.
"Tuning in Tokyo," Rick said, reaching out and twisting the man's nipples. The guy was bald with a hairy chest and a big bulge in his jeans. He grinned and turned away, then bent over and waved his butt at Rick.
The buzzing on Rick's wrist was almost continuous as he grabbed the man's waist to hold him in place and humped his crack. Rick's cock was painfully stiff as he let the guy go. He took his shirt off and tossed it into the crowd, getting more cheers.
The lights following Rick and Dan were white, but swirling colors surrounded them as they danced topless in the middle of the crowd with the men's hands all over their chests, arms, thighs, butts, and crotches.
Rick pressed his body against Dan's and kissed him. Then, he stepped back and unfastened the big bodybuilder's belt. The crowd roared its approval as Rick gripped the waistband of Dan's black tear-away pants and pulled them off, leaving him dressed in his uniform cap, boots, and a bulging black leather jockstrap with a shiny chrome zipper running down the front.
Dan struck a pose, with his legs spread and his arms lifted, showing off his bulging muscles. He grabbed Rick, spun him around, and bent him over, then pulled his tear-away pants off, revealing his tight-fitting black briefs.
The music slowed down, turning soft and dreamy. Rick and Dan glided through the crowd, pausing to let a cluster of men fondle their hard bodies and then drifting on to the next group. The smells of pot and expensive liquor filled the air.
"I'm here!" a loud voice called. "Let's get this party started." It was Rod, standing at the party room's main entrance, holding the bottle of Bunnahabhain in one hand and a joint in the other, alternating between swigging Scotch and toking high-powered pot. He was still wearing his torn white undershirt and frayed blue jean cutoffs.
White light came up around Rod as he stepped onto the dance floor, walking a little unsteadily. He took a long pull of Bunnahabhain and then dropped the bottle. An athletic young man wearing a black and white tuxedo thong and a matching bow tie dashed forward and caught the falling bottle without spilling a drop.
The music stopped as Steve Steele emerged from a cluster of naked men and hustled over to Rod. "Guys and horndogs!" he announced. "Aggie Fags and Faggy Aggies!" He moved behind Rod and bumped his bulging leather jockstrap into the other man's butt. "He's here! He's queer! And he's ready to get down and dirty!" The DJ played a drum roll, gradually building in intensity and ending with a cymbal crash and a burst of electronic noise. "Rod Ramm!"
Rod took a final toke, drawing the joint down to a stub and then tossed it away. Another Tux Boy in fancy undress—naked except for a tuxedo thong, bow tie, and shiny black shoes—picked the smoldering roach up and carried it away.
Steve frowned and whispered something into Rod's ear. Rod just shook his head stubbornly. Steve shrugged and walked away, looking pissed. He stopped beside Rick and growled, "He's too fuckin' drunk to dance."
The music came up, loud and insistent. Rod stood still, swaying with the driving beat. He took a step forward and almost fell over. A Tux Boy approached him, but he waved the young stud away and looked at the men surrounding him. "You really wanna watch me dance?" He pulled on his white undershirt, widening the tear and exposing his muscular chest. "Or would you rather see my cock?"
Several men shouted, "Cock!" Another yelled, "Take it off!"
"All right." Rod unfastened his cutoffs. They fell around his ankles, freeing his stiff pole. It was a lot longer and thicker than most guys' tools, with a broad bullet-head, towering above his shaved balls. He stepped out of the cutoffs and kicked them away. "Who's gonna suck my dick?"
Rick was tempted, even though Rod had been a serious . . . dick . . . to him, Dan, and everyone else in sight. There was something about the man's massive . . . rod . . . that was almost irresistible. He looked over at Dan, who was staring at the gay porn star with open lust.
"I'll do it." A muscular man—all the men in the audience seemed to be muscular—with a shaved head and bushy beard stepped up and wrapped his hand around Rod's hard-on. He was wearing a black leather jockstrap fastened to a chest harness and the standard heavy black boots.
"So you're gonna suck my cock?" Rod asked. The man nodded and Rod pushed him to his knees. "Then, get on with it." The man bobbed over Rod's stiff pole while kneading his balls.
"Billy Butt," Steve Steele said. He was still standing beside Rick. "What a surprise."
"You know him?" Rick asked.
"Honey, I know everybody." Steve patted Rick's butt. "Even you."
"But, we've never met," Rick protested.
"I've seen you dance," Steve answered. "You've got a real talent." He ran a slow finger along Rick's crack.
"Well . . ." Rick's cock, already long and heavy from the excitement of dancing nearly naked for a roomful of lustful men, hardened rapidly, stretching his tight briefs.
"You like that." Steve ground his leather-clad crotch into Rick's butt crack and reached around to fondle his stiff dick.
"Of course." Now, Rick's cock was rock-hard, standing straight up with precum leaking from its tip and soaking his briefs.
"Are you a top or a bottom?" Steve asked.
Steve laughed. "Good. I usually like it up the butt, but I want your sexy ass."
"That'd be all right," Rick answered. "But, I want to fuck you too."
"Oh, you will." Steve patted Rick's butt and then stepped away. He did something with his ARTwatch and Rick's watch vibrated with a different pattern. "I just gave you my contact information. We'll get together soon."
"Well . . . okay." Rick was disappointed.
"I'd pull your briefs down and take you right here on the dance floor with the whole crowd watching," Steve said. "But I don't want to be greedy. All these guys want you." He gave Rick a hot dirty kiss and then disappeared into the crowd.
Dan pushed his way through the men to Rick. "Yo, Bro." He looked down at the big tent in Rick's briefs and grinned. "How's it hanging?"
Rick laughed. "It's not hanging at all, Stud. It's sticking straight up."
"I'm just as hard," Dan said. "It just doesn't show as much with this leather jockstrap."
"You could take it off." Rick reached for the zipper.
Dan pushed Rick's hand away. "When the time is right, Bro." He stepped behind Rick and humped his butt while stroking his swollen pole.
Rick pushed back against Dan's leather-clad crotch bulge. He was usually a top, but he couldn't get enough of the big black man's hard cock. "The time is right now."
"Yeah. Fuck me." Rick had never had sex in front of an audience, but the idea was incredibly arousing.
"Well . . . If you're sure."
Ten feet away, Rod was holding Billy Butt's head motionless, roughly fucking his face while a dozen men watched. "Jesus! That's good!" He pushed Billy away. "Who's next?"
"Me." A man with a buzz cut and a closely-trimmed beard, naked except for heavy black boots and a cock ring fastened to a black leather and chrome harness, took Billy's place. His dick was enormous, with a wide plow-shaped head. He stroked Rod's stiff shaft while licking and sucking his balls.
"Ready to get fucked?" Dan humped Rick's butt crack while reaching around to stroke his hard cock.
"Oh yeah!" Rick's hands were on the waistband of his briefs when his ARTwatch chimed and flashed insistently. Rick flipped it up and letters streamed across its black face. "Cops! Arrest that man."
Dan was looking at his own ARTwatch. "Back to work, Bro."
"Okay," Rick said. "You can fuck my ass later." He waved his butt at Dan suggestively.
A police siren split the air and strobing hot red and blue lights followed Rick and Dan as they approached Rod. "Don't move," the DJ's distorted voice announced as they grabbed Rod's arms and pulled him away from the buzz cut man. "You're under arrest for public lewdness."
The flashing colored lights on Rick, Dan, and Rod turned white again. The DJ played "Bad Boys" as a pair of Tux Boys came through the service door, carrying a heavy steel sawhorse. It was painted black, with padding on the top and leather cuffs attached to its legs. They set it down in the middle of the dance floor and walked away.
"Okay, punk," Dan said. "Assume the position." He and Rick bent Rod over the sawhorse and fastened the cuffs around his wrists and ankles, leaving him immobilized with his butt exposed and vulnerable.
"What are you going to do?" Rod sounded frightened, but he was an uncommonly good actor. He'd started out doing "naive gay boy next door" parts, but his last film, "Master / Slave," had won two "Kinky Video" awards: for best film and best actor. He'd played a sexily scary dom with one man and a hot initially-reluctant sub with another guy.
"Whatever we want," Dan growled. He raised his voice. "Is there a paddle in this joint?" A Tux Boy appeared in seconds, carrying a black leather paddle. He handed it to Dan and walked away while the men in the audience gathered around the bench.
Dan held the paddle up. Its business end was two strips of sewn-together black leather, 15 inches long and three inches wide, with a tapered riveted handle. He slapped it against the palm of his hand. "This will do fine."
He stepped behind Rod and slapped the paddle against his bare buttocks. It made a loud crack and its curved end left a perfect half-moon mark on his ass. Rod screamed and tried to pull away, but the bench held him firmly in place. "Jesus!" he gasped. "That hurts!" His cock had grown even harder.
"Look." Dan reached between Rod's spread legs and caressed his stiff pole. "He's getting off on it."
"No!" Rod squirmed and squealed as Dan paddled his ass, turning his buttocks bright red with a series of smooth measured strokes.
"Oh yes," Dan said. "Take it boy." Rick was surprised and a little scared by Dan's obvious excitement. He'd never seen this side of his big black fuck buddy. "If you do the crime, you gotta do the time."
"God, you've got a sexy ass." Dan fondled Rod's hot pink butt cheeks, then ran a finger up and down his crack, teasing his little puckered hole. "Perfect for fucking." He slipped his index finger into his mouth, coating it with spit, then pressed it into Rod's anus.
"Oh, Jesus!" Rod moaned, pushing his butt back to take more of Dan's finger.
"You like that?" Dan twisted his finger inside Rod's butthole.
"Sir!" Dan snapped.
"Fuck yeah, Sir!" Rod gasped. "I really like that!"
"You'll like a big fat black cock up your bright red ass even more," Dan growled. "Won't you . . . Boy?"
"Oh yes, Sir! Please slide your big fat black cock up my ass! Fuck the hell out of me."
The men in the audience were standing in a rough circle around the bench with their cocks out. Most of them were jacking off. Several were masturbating each other. "Yeah!" one shouted. "Fuck his ass!"
The crowd chanted, "Fuck his ass! Fuck his ass! Fuck his ass!" A Tux Boy magically appeared, handed a big squeeze bottle of lubricant to Dan, and vanished again.
Dan lubricated his index finger and slid it up Rod's ass. It went in easily and Dan worked it in and out, twisting his wrist to distribute the lube evenly. He pulled his index finger out, then smeared lubricant on his index and middle fingers and pressed both fingers into Rod's puckered hole.
"Oh Jesus!" Rod gasped. His stiff cock jerked in time with Dan's rough finger thrusts. "That feels good!"
"Fuck his ass!" The crowd's chanting grew even louder. "Fuck his ass!"
"Yeah!" Rod said. "Do it now!"
"Oh-Kay!" Dan turned to face the crowd and pulled the zipper on his bulging leather jockstrap down, freeing his big hard cock. The men surrounding him gasped at the sight of his giant mahogany pole with a broad plow-shaped head. He turned slowly, giving all the men a good look at his mammoth erection, then coated his stiff pole with lube, gripped its rigid shaft, and guided its head into Rod's hole.
"Fuckin' Jesus!" Rod groaned as Dan's cock-head stretched his asshole. "That's big!"
"Too big for you?" Dan pushed in deeper.
"Oh hell no!" Rod answered. "Keep going. Just take it—" He screamed as Dan's flaring head slipped through his anal ring and his long thick rod slid home. "Oh yeah," he gasped. "That's . . . Damn!"
Dan drew back slowly and then pressed back inside. "You've got a fucking tight ass."
"Your big fat black cock feels great," Rod said. "Now, fuck me good and hard. I'm ready for you."
"All right." Dan pulled completely out and then pushed his cock-head back through Rod's anal ring. "I'm gonna pound your hot sweet asshole." He teased Rod's ass mouth with a few more shallow strokes, then fucked him hard, pulling out and then slamming home, bouncing his swinging balls against Rod's butt cheeks.
"Oh yeah!" Rod gasped. "Hammer my ass!" He rocked his butt back to meet Dan's driving cock.
"Take it, Boy!" Dan growled. "Take my big hard dick."
"Man!" Rod groaned. "That's so good."
Dan slammed Rod's butt harder and faster. "I've got a big hot load for you."
"Shoot it!" Rod cried.
"Here it comes." Dan rammed Rod's ass over and over, pulling almost out and then driving home, slamming his pelvis against the bound man's muscular buttocks.
"God damn!" Rod gasped. "Your hot cum . . . Feels so good!"
"You've got a fucking great ass." Dan pulled his stiff pole out of Rod's butthole. His cock gleamed with lube and cum. He patted Rod's butt, then stepped away from the bench and turned to face the crowd. "Who's next?"