(via amicus5, amicus5, coxaca95)
(via hungpricanman)
Amateur night at the strip club is always a blast. Average guys hopping up on stage, slowly pulling their shirts up and off, teasing their pants down before clumsily having to kick them off of their ankles. The volunteers rarely go all the way, and if they do flash their bits it's usually only for a few seconds before their underwear is swiftly pulled back up, but it’s still a treat when it happens.
Every so often, though, when a guy looks hot enough—and naive enough—the club’s employees have a little fun.
They’ll lead him backstage while the main act is still performing, asking that he put on a more fitting costume. He’ll be sat down in the green room among all the professional strippers in varying stages of undress, and they’ll descend on him like a team of beauticians on a blushing bride, primping and pampering and styling. And then they start asking for his clothes.
At this point the newbie always sputters and hesitates. But what did he expect, volunteering for a strip show? How else can he expect to put on his costume? So he’ll slowly and unceremoniously pull off his t-shirt, push his jeans to the floor. Underwear too, the strippers remind him, we’ve got a lovely set of red briefs picked out for you… or would you prefer a thong? And, even more slowly, even more reluctantly, the volunteer’s underwear will disappear into the crowd of hunks.
They always try to cover up here, cupping their hands over their junk. They might’ve expected stripping off their underwear would be a possibility, but so soon? How did I let my friends talk me into this, they must be thinking. The best volunteers are especially bashful, trying extra hard to hide their dicks because they don’t want to reveal the effect that being fawned over by a troupe of gorgeous hunks has had on them.Â
At least half of the amateurs will have a semi by now.
The strippers keep him there for a little while, letting the nerves build while club employees bustle in and out of the room. Everyone suddenly has urgent business to attend to and needs to cross through the room time and time and time again. Such a shame the quarters are so cramped that each passing employee needs to graze him on their way past, chest to chest, dick to ass…
Eventually, the manager will wave the volunteer over. Grateful to be remembered, they come running. What’s the hold-up? or Where’s my costume? or Will I get some clothes now? they’ll say. The manager waves it all off. Through here, he says, just through here. And, relieved to finally be getting something to wear, each volunteer rushes through the curtain, never recognizing it as the same one that leads out onto the stage.Â
Wolf whistles and cheers are sure to greet him. They’ll be his first clue that something’s not quite right while he adjusts to the blinding lights. But he’ll realize he’s been had, sooner or later. His hands will move back from shielding his eyes to shielding his crotch as soon as it hits him that he’s already on stage, with no special “costume” to speak of. The volunteers that panic and try to run back to the curtain suddenly find their way blocked by a wall of well-muscled men.
Now it occurs to the volunteer that really, this is what he signed up for. To be an amateur stripper, just for one night—to be ogled and catcalled and desired. He’ll drop his hands to his sides, eliciting another round of hoots and hollers. He’ll swing it around a little, just for fun.
But the art of a stripper is in the stripping. There’s not much of a show in just standing around naked. The audience grows restless. From off-stage the manager whispers, keep going! How does a man with nothing on him entertain an entire club?
Often, they dance. They’ll shake and shimmy and twirl, their dicks flopping around with them. Sometimes they try to show off even more, rubbing their hands all over their bodies to draw attention to their biceps, pecs, abs, thighs… They give their dicks a few tugs, just to plump it up a bit. They turn around and spread their cheeks, delighting in the howls from the audience at the sight of their winking hole.
But this volunteer is special. He is completely at a loss, out of ideas. Instead, he naively trusts the audience. He follows their shouted instructions to flex his biceps, pinch his nipples, helicopter his dick. When they beckon him to the edge of the stage, he comes mindlessly, kneeling down at their request. One pair of hands start feeling up his thighs, then two, then four. Audience members begin groping him with abandon, squeezing his muscles, fondling his cock. Someone starts fingering his asshole, someone else is jerking him off. They take him further than he would’ve gone on his own, much further, hands stroking and grabbing and fucking…
He doesn’t realize how close he is until he’s already cumming.
That signals the end of the show. Dazed, but suddenly back in his own mind without the heady high of arousal to shield him, the amateur stripper stumbles back through the curtain. The manager claps him on the back. The other strippers holler in congratulations. Still slick with his own cum, he finds a nearby stool and sits down to collect his thoughts. What had he just done?
Eventually, someone shakes him back to reality. The manager, coming around with a wad of bills. Your share of the tips you earned, he says. And from the auction of your clothes.Â
The money is almost enough to distract the volunteer from that second part. The auction of his clothes? That means… the manager grins and the volunteer gulps. Now, this space back here is for employees only, so unless you’d like to audition…
For the second time in one night, the naked man is turned loose to a rabid crowd of strip-club patrons, now without even the barrier of the stage keeping them apart. At least these tips should be enough to get me a ride home, he thinks, with an extra tip to make the cabbie overlook the fact that I’m naked… and sticky.
As he walks through the club, patrons start to take notice. Once more they crowd around, ogling, catcalling, patting, and the ghost of a smile plays across the volunteer’s lips.
Maybe he would audition, after all.
