Man Dance

by Rajah Dodger {rdodger@hotmail.com} (c) 1989, 2009

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons
Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License (by-nc-sa). In
jurisdictions where the Creative Commons license is not recognized, United
States copyright and Berne Convention provisions apply; all rights reserved to
Rajah Dodger except that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights are
explicitly granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission
note must remain attached. 

Abstract: A man goes looking for women outside male dancer clubs and gets more
than a handful 

It had seemed like a great idea at the time. Why hit the bars, blowing money in
each one until he found a girl who was in the mood, when there was one place
sure to be stocked with horny women? If he had known what he would
experience... 

He got to the male strippers club shortly before closing time, set his two-door
in the lot not far from the front door, and got out to lean against the car and
wait. He wore his best silk shirt and a pair of skin-tight leather slacks. A
faintly menacing smile played across his lips as he waited. 

Sure enough, the doors opened and a stream of women came out, talking,
laughing, and giggling, in twos and threes and larger groups. Some passed by
him without a glance, others stopped briefly admiring his car, or tossed a lewd
comment as they went by. "New in town, sailor?" "Is that sausage for display or
for sale?" That last comment hit home -- most of the women coming out of the
club were well-built, and the tightness of his crotch was starting to hurt. 

Just as he was about to give up the idea, three women stopped to talk. "Hey,
guy," said a strawberry blonde in a blousy sweater, "waiting for somebody to
get off work, or would you be interested in a private show?" This was what he
had been waiting for! "Well, I might be interested... where would the show
be?" 

The blonde went back to her friends, a tall redhead and a petite one. The tall
one was wearing a mannish suit, while the smaller one was in a peasant blouse
and skirt. He hoped they would decide quickly -- he had definite plans for all
of them. Soon enough the blonde returned. "It's too complicated to give you
directions, so we decided I should ride in the car with you and follow my
friends. I'm Ginny. Shall we go?" 

He grinned, executed a formal bow, and opened the car door for her, then got in
and started following her friends. "Have you been at the club long?" she asked.
"Not very," he replied, thinking, "this is great -- they really think I'm an
off-duty dancer!" He turned toward her to continue the conversation, and saw
her squeezing her breasts through her sweater. "Don't lose control, friend, I'm
just keeping the fires burning here. I hope you can ... follow the warm-up
act!" The thought reminded him of his cock, swollen and constricted in his
pants. He winked at her, suppressed a groan, and continued to follow the other
car. 

They arrived at a nondescript suburban house. The shorter redhead got out of
the lead car and opened the garage, where they parked both cars. He followed
them in through the kitchen to the living room. The tall redhead, who
introduced herself as Sandy, fixed drinks all around while her shorter
counterpart, Meg, busied herself arranging the furniture. Ginny put some music
on the stereo, and announced, "All right, ladies, the warm-up show will now
begin. You know the rules!" -- and with that, grabbed him by the arm and
started close dancing with him. She was a good dancer, too; they did a two-step
followed by a salsa move that could have been on Bandstand -- or Dirty Dancing.
Just as they started to move into a vertical bop, Sandy cut in. While not as
good a dancer as Ginny, she could definitely swing her body, and with her
jacket off he could tell there was a good body there to swing. Sandy was
quickly replaced by Meg, and the height difference became a turn-on as her
breasts rubbed across his belly, too close to his crotch for comfort and yet
too far for satisfaction... 

The music came to an end, and Ginny said, "We have an outfit we'd like to see
you in, if it's okay." At this point, he would have been glad to dance naked.
"If you'd follow me back here, I'll show you what we have." She led him into a
stark room with bare walls, a low bench, a bed and a closet. On the bed was a
tux cutaway jacket, tux shirt, black slacks with a matching set of suspenders,
and something that looked like bikini briefs, but with string ties on each side
of the waist. She left while he stripped and put on the outfit. The "briefs"
were just a thin piece of silky material in an hourglass shape, with barely
enough elastic in the border to hold his cock without it spilling out. There
was also a pair of thin black slippers, which he put on without socks. When he
went back into the living room, the lights were down except for two ceiling
spots aimed at the center of the room. He started "strutting his stuff", doing
moves he remembered seeing at the ballet and some from TV -- the music was fast
rock, and he spun and twisted as he got into the mood. 

With the lights trained on him, he couldn't really see the girls just outside
his area, but they cheered him on as he removed, twirled and tossed the tux
jacket. The music turned to Pink Floyd, Yes and King Crimson as he attempted to
keep up the pace he had set. Those hours at the health club were paying off
now, and he wanted to keep his audience happy. He undid one button of the shirt
at a time, finally removing it completely to loud applause and whistles, and
swinging it at arms length, feeling it brush against each member of his
audience until he let it go. A voice (Ginny's, he thought) said "All right,
now, let's really get to it!" 

He did poses, ballet leaps, kicks and turns for a short while, but knew these
women wanted more. He started doing the twist in one spot, pulled the zipper
down, and shimmied as the pants snaked their way down his legs to the floor.
The voices in the shadows liked that move! He stepped out of the slacks and
flipped them away with one foot. He thought as he did so that he felt something
scrape at his ankle, but still couldn't see clearly beyond his circle of
light. 

Now down to briefs and slippers, he bumped and ground as the music slowed down
-- the Beatles' "Revolution", Clapton's original version of "After Midnight",
Rod Stewart's "Tonight's the Night". He did a spin kick and felt someone grab
the slipper off his foot. A split, and as he got up a hand reached in and got
the other slipper. Then an arm (it had to be Meg) reached in and pulled the
ties, zipping his briefs away! He stopped dancing in surprise as the lights
went out but the music continued. A voice suddenly whispered in his ear, "Don't
stop now, big boy" and he felt the unmistakable pressure of a pair of breasts
at his back and hips against his buttocks. He began to bump and grind again,
the body behind him matching his every move and slowly moving him across the
room. He could not tell where he was going, but had decided this was Sandy from
the high spot her breasts were hitting him. 

The music changed to a rumba, as he collided cock first with another body in
front of him. He automatically grabbed her by the hips, as the body behind him
did the same to him, and the sandwich worked its way forward in the dark. His
cock was trapped with the shaft between the ass cheeks of the girl in front,
the head bumping her spine with every step. The breasts behind him were erect
now; he felt the tips of the nipples burning into his back. Suddenly the body
in front disappeared, the hands at his hips grabbed his wrists and he felt his
arms tied behind his back. 

"Hey, what gi-mmmff!" He started to protest as something was pushed into his
mouth. The person at his back quickly frog-marched him to a low bench, fastened
both ankles to cuffs and untied his arms, then put them into cuffs behind his
head. Now the lights came on, glaring into his eyes. He was in the same room he
had dressed in, securely tied down on the bench, his cock still standing tall
from the rumba sandwich. All three women were naked around him, as Ginny said,
"You can talk the talk, big boy, but can you walk the walk?" With that she
pulled the gag out of his mouth and replaced it with her pussy. "Keep me
entertained, friend -- keep us all entertained!" 

As he started licking, he felt fingers toying with his penis, the nails lightly
running up the shaft to the crown, a hand hefting his balls, then rimming his
anus. Ginny's legs were over his ears, so he could only react to what he felt
and Ginny's movements. One of his arms was untied, and his hand was placed on a
breast. Sandy's he guessed, which meant that Meg was the one teasing him at the
other end. He massaged the breast as he nibbled, kissed and licked Ginny's
vagina. He ringed her clitoris, feeling her response even as his hand was moved
to Sandy's other breast. His tongue made a beeline for her vagina, pushing its
way in with the desperation he was feeling below, where Meg's fingers and
tongue were keeping him on the edge of being able to come. He thrust his hips,
but into unresisting air. 

Now Ginny pressed heavily on his mouth, nearly breaking his nose with the force
of her pubic bone as she came on his tongue. He was dizzy from lack of air by
the time she got up from his face, and his cock was throbbing painfully. "You
should really thank Meg for keeping you busy, you know," Ginny said, and with
that Meg straddled his head facing his feet. He had a choice of holes, and
tested the rosebud nearest him. 

As Meg wriggled and settled onto his face, Sandy moved his hand from her breast
to her bush, and he worked his fingers around there. He wondered what Ginny was
doing, when the bench fell away from his hips -- there must have been a
drop-flap there. A pair of hands began to massage his butt, occasionally
reaching up to toy with his still-aching cock and balls. She rubbed some kind
of lotion into his anal crack, and then worked one finger up his ass. He
started jerking and jumping, as much as he could in his tied position, and his
fingers and tongue redoubled their efforts for Sandy and Meg. Everything
started happening at once then. First Sandy clenched his hand between her
thighs, then Meg reached down and grabbed his ass as she pushed her ass onto
his probing tongue, and Ginny's finger found his prostate and pushed him over
the edge as he shot and jerked and twisted and screamed and shot... 

When he came to, he was curled up in the back seat of his car, in the parking
lot at the dance club, and it was late morning. Had it all been a dream? He was
wearing his leather pants; his silk shirt was fully buttoned. He looked up and
saw, dangling from the rear-view mirror, an hourglass-shaped piece of silk with
string ties... 

/END/ 

Endnote: Originally written under the pseudonym "Major Havoc". This was my
first distributed story.