I’m gonna share what it’s like to be a gogo dancer from my perspective. Join me if you will, and as you read, really pause and think about what you would be feeling and thinking while this happens. The awkward uncomfortable excitement that comes with dancing in your underwear and putting yourself out there for other peoples entertainment. Sorry it’s a long post. Just something I wanted to share, thought would be mildly entertaining to read**
You arrive at the venue, security checks your bag, as he does you hope he doesn’t find the small bottle of tequila you stashed in your shoe in your bag. Once inside you find the promoter, he gives you your drink tickets or informs you of whatever the drink situation is for that event and leads you to the “gogo room”. Which depending on the venue can be anything from a broom closet where the kitchen staff can see you change and you have to set your bag on an upside down mop bucket, to a full green room with drink service, vanity mirrors, and diva fans.
Most events have a schedule posted in the room dividing dancers into two groups, who rotate every 20 to 30 minutes on and off the box. My personal favorites are the ones that give you the freedom to dance and break as needed. But less experienced dancers usually take advantage of that and won’t dance, thinking they can get paid to just hang out and drink all night.
Upon meeting the other dancers you guys check out your competition, you see some friendly faces, some new ones, and Nelson 😑 You’re getting ready to go up and realize you forgot your cock ring at home, you pull out a condom and tear a hole through the center, using just the ring as a makeshift cock ring. Maybe put a thin layer of coconut oil on you to give you a shine, hit a few pushups and light stretches to wake your muscles up. Your fellow dancers might help you get a chubby, give you some head. Depending on which state you’re dancing in, you might not be able to actually show your ass. If you’re wearing a jock you can use a bandanna as a quick fix, tying it to hang behind you covering your hole. And it’s good to check with the promoter on what the rules are, in some states you aren’t even allowed to touch the customers. Vegas in particular won’t let you show your ass or touch customers. The strictest rules I’ve ever encountered dancing anywhere.
Depending on where your changing area is in relation to your stage, you might have to make a walk to the box, sometimes taking several flights of stairs leading up to the stage or walking straight from the broom closet next to the bathroom through the middle of the dance floor to your area.
If you have to walk through the dance floor, as soon as you open the door, people standing close will look at you, and stare. As you walk towards the stage squeezing past people, people stop their conversations and turn to look at you. Some with lust, others with disgust, leaning in to their friends ear and whispering something.
How do you feel? What are you thinking?
You make your way to the stage, your best friend Tony is already dancing, you’re rotating with him and he takes your hand and pulls you onto stage with him as he jumps down. You get into a two step. Checking out the crowd, getting into the mood. You see someone waving cash in their hand making their way to you with a smile on their face. You meet him at the end of the stage and lean in and ask him, “front or back?” He looks at you confused for a second and then his face lights up as he realizes you’re asking if he wants you to shove your dick or ass in his face, and yells “FRONT”, you take his hand in yours and pull it up towards the sky forcing the distance between you to be reduced to nothing. His face pressed against your crotch, you throw your left leg over his shoulder and pull him in close as you alternate between moving your hips back and forth, and gyrating your hips in a circular motion, skull fucking him and hoping everyone sees the attention you’re giving him for tipping you, you don’t care if all he had was a $1 bill, because after they’ve seen what you’re doing to this guy the others will start to line up, hoping to get to be close enough to smell your balls for a sec.
But those dances are for the ones who tip bigger. The next guy coming up with a $1 you dance close to, but only close enough so he can reach into your underwear and slide in his dollar, you can even grab his hand and place it on your chest, moving his hand down you, leading him to the edge of your jock, helping him place it inside.
While you’re dancing you might see some fucker you don’t like who talks shit about you, and says dancers are sluts, and calls you gross, but you remind yourself that he had to pay to get in here, and you’re being paid to be here. Let him hate. Someone asks to take a picture with you, says they’ve been following you for years, you smile and take the picture.
How are you feeling? What are you thinking?
It’s your break now, you go back to the changing room, get completely naked, you’re dripping sweat, you talk with your dancing partner, maybe he helps dry your furry butt off with a towel and a little kiss. You start picking your next outfit out, throw back a few more shots, and make you’re way to the smoking patio, find a corner and light one up.
For a moment you almost forget to smile.
Standing alone, just enjoying letting yourself escape in the back of your mind, taking you far, far away from here, where the music and the voices don’t reach. You stare into the distance and take a drag from your ciggarette when you’re awoken by a tap on the shoulder, it’s a group of club buddies. They’ve come to say hi. You exchange pleasantries, make a few jokes, smile.
It’s time to go back up now, you apologize for having to leave. Make your way back to the box. Sit on some more faces, make enough to pay your electricity bill and buy a large bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Head to the after party. Yada yada stuff happens. Subscribe to my onlyfans if you want to see that part.
