The waiter returns with my drink, and I attempt a flirty smile as I thank him. I have no confidence that Iwas successful, but I’m trying, damn it, and that has to count for something.
The stage lights suddenly start flashing, drawing attention to a very attractive man who, based on the specks of gray in his beard, looks like he might be a couple of years older than me. He has on an open leather vest showing off his impressively toned abs. His black cowboy hat is hiding the rest of his hair, but the tight jeans he’s wearing as he walks up to the front of the catwalk do nothing to hide his impressive bulge.
“Well, well, well. It seems like we have a pretty decent crowd here tonight,” he says conversationally into a microphone, raising his other hand out toward the audience as people start to cheer like he wants even more applause. “As you may or may not already know, I’m known as the sheriff around these parts, and I’ll be your host for tonight.” I belatedly notice the cheesy star badge on his vest and chuckle to myself as I appreciate the theming.
“Now, I know everyone is here to have a good time, and I’m sure you will, but as the sheriff, it is my job to remind you fine folks about what the rules are before we can move onto the real fun.”
He proceeds to run through a speech about where you can and can’t touch the performers and other basic rules to follow, the whole time moving around the stage suggestively, even wrapping himself around one of the poles. He calls out another man, the one who I met on the street actually, and playfully points or pretends to touch or grab different parts of himself as the audienceshouts out their understanding if they are off-limit areas.
I’m distantly aware of what he’s saying, but it’s so difficult to focus on the words. I’m completely entranced watching the two extremely attractive men move together so erotically. They both have huge, flirty smiles as they tease the audience, twisting and bending in ways that are obviously practiced to show off their muscles, their asses, and even their dicks.
Now I’m attempting to steady my breathing for a whole new reason. They haven’t even really started the show yet, and my cock is already hard as stone.
I’ve been watching gay porn for years, but there’s something about being here in person, knowing that I’m in the same room as these men, that makes everything so much hotter. It’s easy to picture myself on the stage with them, maybe even between them like I had been last night with those two men at the club.
Fuck, that had been exhilarating too; just dancing with them, having their attention on me. It had to have been one of the hottest moments of my life. I was disappointed when the dancing didn’t lead to more, but it was still an amazing experience. Besides, I don’t think I would’ve been prepared to handle two dicks for my second hookup with men ever.
I’m not sure who is more attractive now: the older host or the younger one who promised me a lap dance. Fuck. I really hope he meant it. I’ve never gotten a lap dance before, never particularly thought about getting one, but now the idea of leaving this club without thatman’s one-on-one attention seems like the worst thing that could possibly happen.
“Alright, everyone, say goodbye to my friend Bronco, but don’t worry, he’ll be back on stage soon,” the sheriff promises, and everyone hollers and cheers. The lights go down for a moment, and he continues talking. “First up, we have a very good friend of mine. We like to call him Redwood, because of his hair color, obviously. Although…” He trails off, laughing along with the audience as a buff man with a ginger beard comes out in an open flannel, tank top, and ripped, cut-off jean shorts, showing off his massive thighs and arms. He’s carrying what I’m assuming is a fake axe to complete his lumberjack vibe.
He spends a few minutes suggestively swinging it as he dances around the stage to a song with a lot of electric guitar, a man singing about literally being a lumberjack, and I think there’s even a chainsaw sound in the background. Again, the theming is very literal, and I kind of love how unserious everything is.
He pulls an audience member up onto the stage for part of the routine, having them sit on a chair that he dances around. I can’t look away from the way he moves against him. Seeing two men together in person really is hot, even if I’m not involved. The next act is just as impressive, and I give up on attempting to adjust myself, settling in to enjoy the show.
The third act begins, and now it’s Bronco’s turn. As I watch him move suggestively around the stage, I realize just how much I love strip clubs. Even more so thandancing at the club last night, everyone here—performers, audience members, staff—they’re all so free and open, and I can’t get over how amazing being in this type of environment is. I think my face is frozen in a slightly bewildered smile because I honestly didn’t think this kind of unencumbered joy was something that was accessible to me. Yet here I am. No one is looking at me like I don’t belong, and I think that’s the point. As long as they’re respectful and follow the rules, everyone can belong here if they’d like to.
And I’d really like to.
The other thing I’ve learned is that I really love strippers. I can’t imagine the amount of courage it must take to put yourself out there like they do. I hope they’re truly having as much fun as they appear to be.
Bronco finishes up his act, a huge smile on his face, and there’s one more solo dancer before they move on to a group number. I’ve barely touched my drink, and most of the ice has melted, but I hold the cool glass up to my cheek in an attempt to relieve the heat of my blushing.
“Give it up for these amazing boys,” the sheriff encourages, clapping along with everyone in the audience. I even let out an encouraging cheer. I truly can’t remember a time that I felt so carefree, so happy, so… fucking horny. “They’ll be coming around and talking to the crowd now, but remember the rules! Money is the only thing going under those thongs.”
They file off the stage, approaching different members of the audience. My attention snags on thelumberjack who’s now surrounded by the bachelorette party, and I get lost watching them fawn over him.
“I was starting to worry you’d lied about coming, Stud.” That same deep southern accent from earlier tonight startles me.
I turn to Bronco, who somehow snuck up beside me while my attention had been elsewhere. “I’m not a liar,” I reply in what I hope is a flirty tone. He smiles back at me, stepping closer. He’s just in a thong now, and I can’t help but glance down at the obvious outline of his dick. Then I remember what the host had said about money and look around, realizing other people have pulled out cash, so I reach for my wallet as I look back to him. “I loved your performance.”
His smile seems amused, maybe performance isn’t the right word, but he sounds genuine when he thanks me. I quickly pull out a hundred-dollar bill and hold it out to him, but he raises a brow as he eyes it. “You don’t want to…” He trails off as he circles his hips closer to me, drawing my attention back to his thong.
“Oh. Um, sure. Of course.” God, I sound so dorky. I manage to slip the bill into the elastic on his hip without completely embarrassing myself though, so I’m counting it as a win.
He smirks as he leans in closer to speak near my ear. “I would ask if that was fake, but you already said you’re not a liar.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “It was real.”
He pulls back, biting his lip for a moment. “Did youstill want that lap dance? We could go somewhere more private, if you’d prefer.” He runs a finger over my cheek. “I’m not sure if you’re actually shy, but this blush is fucking adorable.”
I let out a big breath. I’d already promised myself that I would follow through with this. I can’t back down now that it’s actually happening. But I’m also struggling to remember how to speak, so I just nod.
His smile grows, and he slips his hand into mine, leading me over to the side of the club where a wall that I thought was covered with curtains has now been pulled back to reveal private booths.
There’s a very intimidating man in a suit, I’m assuming he’s security with his earpiece, and he nods at us as we approach. Bronco says something quietly to him as he hands him the money that was in his thong. “Cash or card?” he directs at me.
“Uh, cash?” I have no idea what I’ve agreed to pay here, but I took out plenty of cash for this weekend, just in case. I didn’t want there to be any paper trail.
