Green As Gourds

GREEN AS GOURDS

(for Marek)

by Jaime del Bueno

"I'm as green as gourds in my parents' back pasture down home." I've said that to practically every person I've talked to since I moved to the state's big city. I have no idea why I thought they'd be interested. Actually it does tell a lot about me: a forthright, naive, unsophisticated, honest, vulnerable, and talkative country boy just come to town. What it doesn't tell is that I've got a goal.

One time while in school, I found a magazine hidden in the school bus and I naturally started looking at the pictures. They were mainly sex pictures, but that didn't particularly interest me as anyone raised on a farm with cattle, horses, and hogs is quite familiar with sex-not any kinky kind, but straight reproductive sex.

One article was about a troupe of muscular, young men dancers who made a career of dancing and got to travel around seeing the country and meeting folks. That night, I set the article up in front of my mirror, took off my shirt and decided that I was a muscular as any of them. Being brought up on a working farm with chores since I was seven or eight had given me plenty of trim, but bulging muscles. I wasn't very tall (only about 5 foot, eight inches), but every inch of me was covered with muscle.

I was naturally blonde, unlike some of the guys in the pictures who didn't look too natural. I decided, too, that I was just as good looking as they were, but that was just my own opinion.

I had done a lot of square dancing (There's not much to do in a small town.) and I liked it. I cut the article out of the magazine, carefully eliminating all the sex pictures and articles. The dancing pictures I showed to a lady in town who had recently moved to town and taught dancing. Looking back, I suspect she knew more than I told her, but she had a big house and big yard that always need some kind of work. We arranged a trade-yard work for dance lessons. She started by putting a video tape in her television set and we looked at dancers. She had figured right off what kind of dancing was in question, but wanted to be sure that I knew.

She taught me a lot about dancing that I never guessed at before and we worked very hard. I seemed to have some affinity for it and for the driving, pounding music that aroused something in me, and she taught me a lot fast. She also taught me a lot about sex, which differed more from farm animal sex than I had realized. Being as naive as I was, it was easy for her to coax me into her bed.

When I got to the city, I tried to find a troupe of dancers performing. Finally, in an alternative life styles tabloid, I saw an ad for some dancers performing at the Rooster Club, listed as a gay bar. By now, I had gleaned from the tabloid the meaning of gay and gay bar.

I argued with myself for some time over whether or not I would be willing to dance in gay bars. I had never had any sexual feelings toward any man or boy. The only time I had touched another boy's penis was when I was five or six years old. That was when a kid my age moved onto the farm next to ours. With no one else living close, we became good friends and played together a lot, usually in the woods on one farm or the other. One game was "Pirates" which consisted primarily of sword fighting with our hard little "flesh swords". It gave us a lot of giggles, but it never occurred to either of us to go any further than banging our strangely hard "pee pees" together.

It took some time and serious thought, to decide about continuing my search for a career as a dancing stripper. The career won out, though, when I assured myself that I would just dance and have nothing to do with gay sex. So, I decided to go to the Rooster Club.

That Friday night, I went to see the dancers in person. How good did you have to be to perform with a group such as these? Just inside the door of the bar was a bulletin board with individual pictures of the dancers with their names. It seemed peculiar, but most of them had names that included such words as Dick, Lance, Rod, Steel, Iron and Pile Driver.

Inside the bar was smoky and dark, with a strong smell of old beer. Then the bright lights came up on the stage and the dancing began. In my opinion, they were good. The music was recorded, but all numbers had the excitement of pounding rhythms. They danced with considerable precision, but with individuality and enthusiasm. When an individual had a solo, he really cut loose with sensual and exotic (maybe erotic is the right word if one is gay) movements. They also managed to slowly strip without it slowing their footwork. Their really nice bodies presented an exciting picture.

When the first set was over, the dancers all came onto the bar floor and mingled with the patrons. I noticed there was a lot of body rubbing and hugging. Then I noticed that most of the rubbing was followed by paper money being pushed into the G-strings which was all they still were wearing. If a patron put a really large amount of money in a G-string, the dancer would stretch out the front of his costume and show that one patron his crotch.

I eased over to the bar and got a handful of one dollar bills so I could get closer to the dancers and take a little part in the activities. When my money was about half gone, I sat down near the bar and debated the possibility that I could dance and not take part in this audience interaction. The money looked good, though, and I decided one could take part in the mingling without being affected by the pawing and fondling.

About the time I finished this self-debate, one of the dancers parted from the crowd and moved toward me. It was a Latino, the tallest performer, and a particularly good dancer. He was named Cisco according to the bulletin board. When he reached me, he began a sensual dance and wound up sitting on my lap. This continued after he sat until both of could feel my dick had gotten semi hard and was being mashed up into his ass crack. He put his hands behind my head and leaned close-giving me a strong whiff of his pleasing odor and an "air kiss". The dance continued for a couple of minutes and he started to get off while keeping up the "squirming".

As he was getting up, I came out of the trance his motions, body, odor and nearness had caused in time for me to get the rest of my dollar bills out and slip all of them into his G-string. Following the usual practice, when his crotch had risen up right in front of my face, he stretched out the skimpy material and showed me his cock that was about as erect as my own equipment. It was a beautiful dark brown-much darker than the rest of his skin. For the first time, the sight of another guy's dick caused an electric current to go through my body. He danced back to the edge of the crowd, looked over his shoulder at me and blew another kiss.

With the intermission over, the dancers disappeared long enough to add to their costumes and then the second half began. This time, as I watched the dancers with increasing amounts of bare flesh, and let the almost physical musical take over my being, I was dancing along with the strippers on stage. My cock was as hard as a rock and pointing up within my moderately tight jeans, so I didn't remove any clothing (unlike the dancers on stage).

I looked at Cisco and my cock got harder. When he had stripped down to his G string, I actually ejaculated without touching myself. It was the most electrifying experience of my young life. When the show was over and the dancers were starting to mingle again, I headed for the front door, before anyone noticed the dark, wet spot on the front of my crotch.

As I was passing the bulletin board, I noticed that there was something there in addition to the photographs. It was a small white card saying, "Dancer Wanted. If you think you are good enough and have the right personality, apply to Mr. Glover at 1265 East Plato." Then a phone number completed the message. I repeated the address and phone number over and over on the way home. It seemed an omen and I had to see Mr. Glover.

The next morning, I scrubbed myself shiny in the shower, shaved carefully, combed my hair so that it looked as though it had fallen beautifully into place by its own volition and dressed as close as possible to the dancers starting costume. I put on my tightest Tee shirt (which happened to be red) and tight, black jeans. Then, I added highly polished black loafers and a wide black belt with a big brass buckle.

Next, I went down to the seedy lobby and called the phone number. Another omen-Mr. Glover was there to take my call. It turned out that I didn't need to memorize the address. It was the address of a staircase next door to the bar. A staircase which I found led to a bare "lobby" on the second floor. Ten doors led out of the hall and the only one marked was labeled "Mr. Glover".

I knocked. A tired voice said, "Come in". I opened the door and stepped in. The whole room was bare except for a desk and two chairs sitting in front of what appeared to be a heavily curtained window. This was on the wall to the right of the one I entered. Next to the window was another door. A well dressed man sat at the desk, smoking and watching me with penetrating eyes. He had an ashtray full of butts, but nothing else on the desk.

"Mr. Glover."

"Yes, I'm he."

"How do you do. I'm called Petey."

"Okay, and you're here to apply for a job as a dancer in the wonderful world of entertainment? It was a statement-not a question.

"Yessir."

"Take off your shirt." It was rather blunt but not suggestive. I did and he leaned forward over his desk as I complied. "Would you please remove your slippers and jeans?" The tone of voice was much kinder.

I did and he said "Now keeping turning". I was glad that I had worn briefs (my newest pair), but after a few turns, he added "Would you have any difficulty if I asked you to strip completely?" He walked around the desk and semi-sat on the front edge of it.

The question stopped me in my tracks while I again debated my desire to dance, despite having to take my clothes completely off in front of people. He continued, "I saw you in the club last night and I am aware that you saw everything one of the dancers has to offer. I imagine that you have figured out that this is expected of any dancer who gets a big tip."

Nodding rather numbly, I shed the skimpy briefs and my socks. Again, my excitement won out and I decided I could strip and remain "pure" even as my cock became semi erect. I turned slowly as I gained more confidence in my "self control." By now, however, my dick was totally hard and bouncing off my belly. The bright look in his eyes as he never looked above my waistline seemed to indicate that he approved.

"You have a beautiful pecker and magnificent balls. I've always been impressed by big, thick cocks, low-hanging testicles and your equipment certainly fills the bill". His voice gained the urgency and excitement of his eyes! While my back was toward him, he adjusted his crotch, but I could still see a huge mound between his legs, when I turned back around.

"It is true that some of our people make some extra money by having sex with members of our public-but it is not a requirement. How long have you known you're

gay?" I choked while trying to find the right words.

"I'm not gay," I sputtered. "I've never had sex with a man or boy."

He looked at me doubtfully and said, "Never?"

"Never."

"Well, how far would you be willing to go with a member of our audience? They seem to think a lot of hugging and touching of the dancers when they are almost naked is part of our show."

"I don't know."

"Then I'm going to bring Chad, our dance captain and choreographer, in here to see if we can determine how much you can handle." He turned to the desk and reached underneath briefly. I could hear the sound of a buzzer echoing in another room and instantly in walked a naked young man. His manhood was beginning to rise, too, and I gave up all hope of "willing" my cock to subside.

He walked up to me deliberately while he looked me over and seemed to study what he saw. "Chad, this is Petey. Petey, this is Chad." I nodded and began to sweat over what was about to happen. "Remember, Petey, Chad will stop at any time you say." That made me relax a little. Then Chad started to put his arms around me and I pulled back.

I saw Chad give Mr. Glover a look of hopelessness and then he reached for me again. This time, I did not flinch, but put my arms around Chad. I was standing a little tensely, though I did manage to hold on as Chad ground our erect dicks together. We were spreading large quantities of precum around our bellies, with both cocks continually adding more. Oddly enough, it helped me relax and push my crotch back into his. I couldn't remember when I had felt so good, despite a slight buzzing in my ears.

Then Chad leaned closer and kissed me. Again, I flinched, but recovered as quickly as I could and kissed back. With this indication of willingness, Chad thrust his tongue into my mouth and explored every inch of my mouth and the upper part of my throat. I tried to copy what he was doing, but I was so fascinated by the excitement he was unexpectedly causing throughout my body that I didn't notice my tongue fall back into my own mouth.

I saw Chad look at Mr. Glover and give a big sigh of resignation. I tried again to swab Chad's throat. This time, I concentrated and when Chad's tongue returned and intertwined with mine, I began to get that buzz again. Then, I tried to reach his throat, but couldn't get past the thrilling feel of his tongue.

Next, Chad backed away and stood looking at me expectantly. I didn't know what to do, so I looked at Mr. Glover for help. "He wants you to suck his dick, Petey."

"Oh." Chad pushed down on my shoulders until I was on my knees with my face against his cock. I could feel the precum smearing over my face. That was arousing me even more, but I still didn't know what to do next. Even after Chad pushed the big sausage into my mouth, I just froze and did nothing.

"For God's sake, Chad, do him and he can follow suit." Chad pulled me up and dropped to his knees. When I felt his warm, moist lips around my cock, I moaned and gasped loudly. Then he gave me the works-sucking my balls, licking the underside of my mushroom head, pushing my manhood into his throat, holding firmly with his lips as he bobbed his head up and down, boring his tongue into my piss slit, and even pushing a finger into my asshole.

Completely forgetting my pact of no gay sex, I screamed loudly and felt my cum burst out in the biggest explosion of joy juice I had ever ejaculated. Chad seemed faintly surprised by my reaction to his expert handling. My cum had filled his mouth before he could swallow and it was dribbling down the sides of his chin. I had always thought that I gave myself great hand jobs-but I was kidding myself. This is the way it should have felt.

"Kiss him Petey," Mr. Glover directed. So, Chad stood up and we kissed. He hadn't swallowed any of my cum and now it ran freely back and forth from his mouth to mine and then back. The smooth, creamy feel of our tongues swimming in cum almost made me cum again.

"Now, Petey, show us what you have learned," Mr. Glover added.

We changed positions and I tried to copy every move Chad had made with my equipment. Unfortunately, it wasn't as smooth when I did it and Chad kept yelling, "Watch the teeth, kid......The teeth..............Te-e-e-e-eth! ...... Keep your teeth off my cock........... You're scratching the hell out of ............... WATCH THE TEETH!"

The harder I tried to please him, the more often I seemed to pull one of my canines the considerable length of his pride and joy. Finally, I was able to cover my teeth with my lips and suck him with considerable relish. This seemed to do the job and he exploded cum into my mouth in streams that made mine look infantile.

"He was right, Mr. Glover. He knows nothing about giving head." Chad complained.

"How about fucking, kid? How expert are you at that?" Mr. Glover was beginning to look disinterested in my application to dance with his troupe.

"I've never done it with a guy..................... .A horny woman made me think I was fabulous when I put my dipstick in her cunt."

"Well, she was probably wrong," Chad burst out. "Do you want us to keep testing, Mr. Glover, or do we give up on him right now?"

"Are you willing to go further, kid?" Mr. Glover asked. I had not reacted the way Chad wanted me to, but he had left me with a warm, tingly glow in every fiber. I had never felt this way before, but I knew I wanted to feel that way again.

My confidence had ebbed to a low point, but since I had gone this far, I answered quietly, "I'd like to try, sir." My NO GAY SEX pact had slipped further out of my mind.

"Take him into your bedroom, Chad, and fuck the hell out of him. Show him as many different pointers as you can work in before you're through. Then, let him screw you and see how much he learned from your advice." Chad gathered up my clothes and went back out of the door where he had entered. I followed meekly.

"Up on the bed, Petey Boy," he instructed. "On your hands and knees to begin and then we'll try some other positions." With no further preliminaries other than lube in my ass crack and some on his dong, Chad climbed up behind me. Then he seemed to have a change of mind and started caressing me in various ways-primarily on my nipples and crotch. It worked and I relaxed, feeling more kindly toward Chad. After all, he was just following instructions.

Then, I felt the greased head of his cock rubbing up and down the crack of my rear. Then he started rubbing his mushroom in a tight circle on my anus until I almost cried out for the whole thing in my ass. He chose to go slower, though, and cautiously popped the head into my rectum. "You okay," he asked and I replied quietly, "you bet!"

He started rocking back and forth and added, "it will go better if you cough or push out like you're taking a shit." He was right, in small advances, it slid in until he said, "It's all in now. You can relax." Waiting until I could adjust to this new feeling of fullness in my inner sanctum, he began pumping back and forth-starting slowly and gradually picking up speed until I could feel his mighty balls slapping against my scrotum.

When it seemed he was about to cum, he pulled out and said, "Let's try something new for you. Lie on your back and put your feet on my shoulders. After exploring this position at length, he pointed out some of the details for making it better for both of us. Next, he put me on my side and raised the upper leg. Again, the illustrated lecture continued until he was ready to come and, again, he pulled out quickly. Expertly rolling a condom on his big rod while saying "Get back on your back. I want to see your face when I fill your bowels with my special cream," he folded my body up and held me much as a wrestler would. Quickly adjusting our bodies so that we were not only comfortable, but our bodies made contact with the other in every possible square inch of skin and nerve endings.

Chad was as expert in this technique as he was in all other practices involved in gay sex. After holding me tightly for a couple of minutes, he again wiped his tongue throughout my mouth. Moving down my body, (while holding my knees up beside my head), he licked and sucked my nipples, tongued my belly button, took my balls into his mouth one at a time and then both at once. He rolled them around, causing them to massage each other.

My body was seething with tingling, vibrating feelings coursing into, around, and over my entire body. Despite this, I could not forget that he was conducting a test and seminar. We meant nothing to each other and I could not respond. I laid there like a sacrificial lamb and waited for his next move.

Abruptly standing up and slamming me onto the mattress, he turned and addressed the mirror, "I'm sorry Mr. Glover, but he is not responding at all. That makes it difficult to do anything with him."

The calming voice of Mr. Glover flowed through an intercom speaker, "It's okay, Chad. You're both doing fine. Remember, it is the first time for the young man."

"You can say that again," Chad agreed. "It's like screwing a sack of flour." Having made his protest, Chad returned to me and pushed my knees alongside my ears. He started again with my nipples, navel, and balls-carefully avoiding my dick-and then lifted my ass slightly higher off the bed, he licked the area underneath my testicles and then the ass crack before touching my rectum with his talented tongue. Everywhere he licked, he left a large deposit of saliva. Inside and out, my ass felt slick and lubed with his spit.

I had trouble breathing as he next started rubbing the head of his cock in the crack of my ass and then concentrating his massaging on my pucker hole. He mashed the massive mushroom into place and then gently pushed it inside. Although he was being gentle and slow, I gasped at the intrusion.

Beginning a slow rocking motion, in and out, his dong was going deeper and deeper. "As I push," he advised, "you cough, or push out as though you were shitting. Either will help." My ravaged asshole was feeling full, raw and completely torn into tender shreds. When entirely in, he stopped and gave me a chance to relax as much as I could. Then the pounding resumed with strokes getting longer and faster.

I tensed until I felt his cockhead massage a sensitive area that felt good. From that point, I felt better and better. Still, I laid there tensely so as to pay attention to what he was doing and to keep from taking a chance that movement on my part may cause damage to my ass and insides. Besides, it was a mechanical procedure for Chad and he was not trying to make it actually pleasant for either of us. Finally, though, he exploded a bountiful supply of semen into my bowels-taking several shots to get it all out of his body and into mine. Then he pulled out resignedly, making my ass lips snap and leaving my interior with a hollow feeling.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Chad turned to the mirror hopefully. "Isn't that enough, Mr. Glover? Do we need to go any further?"

"I think you two should go all the way through your test. Then we can make a sound decision based on all possible questions. . .Petey, would you like to fuck Chad now and show us what you learned from Chad's teachings?"

"I sure would like to try and I've tried to remember everything we did. After coming this far, I wouldn't like to give up my hopes for this job, so easily."

Chad immediately fell back on the bed, stating "Start with a condom and lube, kid, so this won't take so much longer." We quickly went through all but the last position and I could tell that Chad was annoyed with my lifeless performance. Then he let himself relax and enjoy as we got to the knee by ear position. This time, my tongue had left his torso sloppy with saliva and he seemed to enjoy rubbing this against me.

I applied my tongue to his ass crack with a lot of trepidation, but it was not that bad. As a matter of fact, since Chad had bathed just before our test had begun, he not only felt good to me, he tasted good. Even his ass hole had a sweaty, but sweet, flavor and I tried to stick my tongue as far into him as he had me. Chad relaxed and I thought I was going to fall into his interior.

As I continued this tongue fuck, I could feel Chad quiver and twitch as I apparently found some of the spots he had tried to tell me about. Switching to a cock fuck, I was amazed how quickly and easily my cock fell into his rectum. Obviously, my equipment was a tad smaller than his, but it also was evident, that many inches (or yards) of dick had penetrated his love chute before I made my inexperienced attack.

I had never felt better than I did while planted in his insides with my club getting larger and harder. Then came my climax-a major one that made us both smile at the other. Easing out as slowly as possible so that I could prolong the feeling of his hot body wrapped around my dipstick, I sat on the edge of the bed, looked toward the mirror and waited to be instructed.

Chad laid back on the bed with a contented smile on his face. So, naturally, it was he who got the first instruction. "Chad, would you come in here for a minute?" Somehow, it did not sound the way a question should. Chad jumped up immediately and disappeared through the door next to the mirror. I looked hard, but the curtain apparently had been drawn and it had become an ordinary mirror again.

After a brief lapse of time, Chad came back and held the door open for me. "Mr. Glover Mr. Glover would like to talk to you again." He helped me gather my clothes and closed the door behind my back as I again approached the man who could decide my future.

"Petey, Chad and I agree that you are worth taking a chance. Do you think you would like to work for me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then let me tell you more. . . .the offices down the hall have been converted to bedrooms and each of the dancers have one assigned to him. At the end of the hall is a kitchen with tables for eating. One of the bartenders prepares basic food meals three times a day, free for the dancers. This is one of the perks. The group travels to special events around the state from time to time, but primarily they stay here in town and perform in the bar downstairs. While in town, there are two performances on Friday, three on Saturday, and one on Sunday afternoon. There is a rehearsal each day on which there is no show.

"If you choose to join us, you could keep all your tips and receive the amount of money written on this note pad. Tear that sheet off and take it with you to think about for the next week. During that week, you will live with Chad and he will teach you about our dances and more about exciting and safe sex practices. Also, Chad will supervise getting your costumes. After a week with Chad, you will be allowed to practice with the guys. If that goes well for one week, you can move into your own room and you will be hired as a regular member of the group, or let go.

"Does this sound acceptable to you?" Again, all I could say was "Yessir" despite the meager figure on the sheet from the note pad. It was a start and if I got really good I might hire on to one of the nationally known troupes.

" You go bring all your possessions here and put them in the room assigned to you-even though you will be living with Chad for the time being. I'll need you to sign some papers to get your salary, so I need to know your real name. Is it Petey?"

"No, sir. My real name is a long, difficult to pronounce Polish name. No one in my classes could ever get their tongues around it. Since the initials of my first two names is P T, the kids started calling me Petey."

"That's fine." Mr. Glover sounded pleased and said, "You won't mind then, will you, if I ask you to use the name Peter as long as you are with us? Please drop Petey and your real name completely and then it won't be as difficult to remember that you are now Peter. Judging by what I saw, you certainly deserve to use the name Peter."

I lost no time in going after my belongings and getting them back to MY room. Chad took his training duties very seriously and started teaching me about the dances performed by the group. I had a session each day, in addition to the group's rehearsals. At night, I got the other part of my training. It became clear immediately that there would be no more reciprocity. He fucked me once or twice thoroughly every night (with words of advice, of course). His talented love pole was big enough, of course, to titillate every square inch of my receiving passion canal. Strangely, during sexual encounters, Chad always had burned at some blue lights that glowed off our pale skins and thus exaggerated rather than obscured any action on Chad's bed.

Every morning, while he still had his striking piss hard, I gave him a blow job (with more advice as we "practiced"). Some times, I sucked him carefully and slowly, with due attention to his balls and nipples while employing various techniques learned from Chad. Other times, he simply fucked my face. I knew what to expect when he grabbed my ears, forced his big dick quickly in my mouth and into my throat, and then fucked fast and furiously. He showed more enthusiasm during those sessions than at any other time.

He liked to rub his slimy, cum covered dick around my face. He followed this by taking a leak. Then he returned to bed for more fellatio with the faint taste of urine still on his dick. This gagged me slightly at first and then I got where I could ignore it. He laughed when I choked or gagged on it.

During this time, I got some additional helpful hints from one of the other dancers. His dance name was Rod. After each rehearsal, he invited me to his room for a real, bottled beer from the small refrigerator in his living quarters. I took care to limit these sessions to one beer each time. You see. I couldn't handle much alcohol. My one saving grace was the fact that I was a happy drunk (a fact noted and joked about by my companions) and never caused anyone any trouble.

Rod gave me a number of pointers that improved my dancing and I was grateful. Rod never touched me, so I don't know whether or not I would encourage him or not. He made sure I met some of the other dancers and I was beginning to feel a real part of the troupe.

Also, Rod filled me in on some of the mysterious events that surrounded me. It seems that Mr. Glover was seriously in love with Chad. On the other hand, Chad also wanted to touch only bodies that were younger than his own. So, Mr. Glover's only recourse was to sit in his lonely office with the two way mirror and watch Chad make love to other people under the blue lights. Mr. Glover agreed to never fire Chad as long as Chad agreed to be the star of his private extravaganza.

"You've noticed, I imagine, that you and Chad always have sex on the same times each day. That is so Mr. Glover can fit his viewing into his regular business schedule up town." Mr. Glover, Rod explained, actually was a partner in a large accounting firm. All of his efforts at the bar and rehearsal room, were for his own amusement. A chill ran through me when I realized that for that week, I had been a part of a display for Mr. Glover's entertainment. From that night on, I gave Chad an even more frigid response than I had before (especially since I had started to relax with Chad and had become much more active in my "love making".) Each session left me with the almost physical feeling of a pair of eyes roaming around my private parts.

Before anything more than one beer was consumed, it was always time for Chad's bedtime-which was my bedtime, too, of course. I stayed on in Chad's room and his routine was always the same-morning and night. I had no say in the matter.

Then, the big night arrived. I was dancing with friends on my personal "opening night". From the start, the music carried me away. The powerful beat, the intricate parts with equally elaborate steps, gripped by body and my being, similar to the exhilerating rhythms of Chad fucking either my face or rear entrance. The loud, strong melodies immediately entered my muscles and bones, and my system possessed me. My body reverted to the many rehearsals and all movements became automatic. It was the most exciting night of my life. Every ensemble number was perfectly done and the solos were done with exuberance and enthusiasm. The audience seemed to be very happy with our performances and excited by what they saw. Many of them were dancing along (or at least swaying) with the music as enthusiastically as we were.

I hung back during the "mingling", but was as warm as I could be during the touching and hugging when actually singled out by a patron. Otherwise, I stayed with my back against the stage and smiled a lot. Understandably, I gathered far fewer and smaller tips than the dancers who "mingled" with what seemed to be an urge to touch as many people as possible.

The precision, exuberance and passion continued though all performances that weekend. When the final set was completed and most of the patrons were gone, Mr. Glover beckoned for me to join him in a dark booth as far from the stage as possible. Knowing what might be coming, my legs started trembling and I stumbled unsurely across the room. I couldn't even bring myself to sit down, in case I wanted to run away quickly after our conversation.

I needn't have worried, Mr. Glover's sad face brightened as much as I had ever seen it when I approached him. "You were top notch tonight, Peter. If you keep that up, you can work with our men as long as you like. Do you want to continue?"

"Of. . . of course, Mr. Glover. I would love to stay . . .and, er. . . dance! Thank you, thank you, and thank you."

" Then," he finished, "when you are ready to turn in tonight, go to your own room and enjoy it."

I noticed that Rod had managed to sit in the next booth, with his back to us and with his body as still as the best of eavesdroppers. The rest of the dancers seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Then Cisco came out of the dressing room. He waved at the others and smiled at me as he passed quickly through the room and out the front door. It was almost as though the other dancers stopped their breathing until Cisco was gone. The room was nosier and much more movement was evident when he was out of sight.

As Mr. Glover stood and walked away, too, I flopped into the booth where he had been. Rod came to life and moved to my side. "Wow," he began, "you must have made a real impression on him. He usually makes a dancer wait until the next day to make a deal. I assume you are coming to work with us on a regular basis?"

"You bet!"

Then let's go to my room to celebrate! I have some really cold beer in the box." Rod began to move before he finished the invitation and before I could answer. His enthusiasm carried me right down the hall to his place.

There, we found Lance and Dick, already started on the beer. They added extravagant compliments and effusive congratulations. I really was eating it all up when Rod topped the moment by handing me a beer.

For some reason, the beer tasted a little strange. I figured the excitement made everything seem different and took a few big gulps. Rod forced a second beer on me, quickly followed by a third. The room was beginning to get quite warm and spin a little.

When I protested as Rod handed me yet another beer, he said "Isn't he cute? Like a little puppy. Sweet little puppy," he added while patting my head. The others moved close to me and joined in immediately. They patted my head as they made "Puppy" comments and I started to laugh uproariously at the foolishness.

Rod took his belt off and put a loop of it around my neck. "This Puppy needs a leash," Rod continued. I was laughing so hard at these antics that I didn't really notice that the circle of leather around my neck fit snugly-just like a real dog collar.

"Get down on all fours," suggested Lance. This struck me as funny, but reasonable, so I complied, laughing harder and harder. Rod tugged on the belt and began leading me around the room. The other two continued wild "Puppy" remarks about how good I was. After a couple of loops around the room, Rod stopped and commanded, "Sit". When I sat on my haunches and held my hands up like paws in a begging position, Rod seemed extra pleased. He gave me another cold beer and I laughed some more. By now, I couldn't tell if the beer tasted strange or like a milk shake.

"Hurry, so we can show Lance and Dick what a good show dog you make." A show dog-that was a laughing matter, too, and so I did as we started the circles again. Rod held my neck so firmly that I couldn't see that Lance and Dick had removed all their clothes. I just barely noticed that the boys stripped off my clothes in a slow motion strip as I made my way around the room, laughing more as each piece disappeared.

"Let's go to that other room. I think there is more room there." So, we paraded down the hall with my pecker swinging loose and my ass end up in the air. I could feel rather than see people peeking from doorways and I wondered if they were laughing, too. Then we came to a room that had the bed's mattress pulled onto the floor. Rod led me onto that and I posed in my show dog position.

It would have looked better to the judges if I hadn't kept giggling. Now, when Lance and Dick make complimentary "puppy" comments, they patted and rubbed my butt instead of my head. Again, Rod had me sit while he fed me another beer-with him holding the bottle. We spilled so much on the mattress that I laughed harder than ever.

After I resumed my standing position, Dick kept calling me a cute puppy. Lance, however, patted my butt and ran his fingers down the crack of my ass (making me laugh some more). "This ain't no puppy," Lance exclaimed. "This is a bitch and she needs breeding-right now." His finger tip entered my rectum. I tried to turn to laugh at him, but Rod held the belt very tightly and kept my face forward.

Then, I felt some kind of oil run across my pucker and it tickled-so I giggled louder. I laughed even when a pair of well greased fingers rubbed a circle around my anus and then entered. It felt as though they went up to the knuckles

At this point, I could see that one of the guys had knelt in front of my face and a very stiff love pole was pointing at my mouth. "I think she needs a big bone in her mouth to keep her happy while she's being bred." I laughed at this remark and when I did, the boner was rammed into my mouth. The ramming continued and got harder so that the big piece of tube steak was hardly noticed when it plowed all the way into my surprised asshole. Then it began to burn and feel raw as it see-sawed in and out. Soon, I could tell that I was being filled with cum at both ends. My two invaders yelled gleefully and stood up.

I assumed my ordeal was over and started to stand, but Rod held me down with the trick belt. The other two traded places and the two-ended attack continued. The longer cock was in my mouth, but quickly plowed deeply into my throat. Now my throat was as raw as my asshole, where the new fucker tried to make up in rapid pounding what it lacked in length. This time, the two announced their climaxes with whoops of laughter.

Rod poured some beer into a doggie dish and pushed my face into it. I thought it might help relieve my throat, so I drank as deeply as I could. He then held something under my nostrils. After a popping noise, my nose was filled with an exotic aroma, and my head began to become even dizzier.

Turning my collar over to one of the others, Rod stuck his big piece of meat into my mouth. Automatically, I started sucking, until he said, "Don't work so hard. Just get it wet enough for me to get a good smooth fuck in your ass."

Suiting his actions to his words, Rod moved back to my rear and took up where the others had finished. I thought, incorrectly that my jaws now would get a rest. To my surprise, however, someone else was kneeling in front of me. "Go ahead, kid," a voice said. "Stick it in and enjoy." I started to sense that more people had slipped into the room and were waiting their turns. The 'kid' followed orders and again I was being ravaged at both ends. I lost all track of time as everyone in the room took their turns with me. The only gauge I had was that periodically, Rod put more beer in my dish and more of the aroma at my nostrils.

I couldn't be sure, but I thought many of them were coming back for seconds, or more. Occasionally, one of my attackers was applauded for some trick of his own in screwing my face or rear end. I could be sure of nothing, now, for I grew half unconscious.

I did hear the door open one more time and someone said, "Make way for the big guns, now!" I could hear clothes dropping on the floor and then there was a lot more applause and shouting. I found out why when the biggest log of them all was rammed into my ass. I screamed and fought, but nothing made any difference. The mighty attack weapon spread my anus and intestines with each stroke. The sharp pains brought me back to full consciousness. The noise of the happy onlookers grew louder as I screamed and cried constantly.

"AH-H-H-H, E-E-E-Y-O-W-W-W. Y-O-W-W-W-W-E-E-E-E!" At last, my giant fucker was also yelling and his monster was convulsing inside me for a long time. "YES, YES, YES. THAT IS GOOD. G-O-O-O-O-O-D!" Abruptly, the cannon was pulled from my asshole and I felt as though it was taking my insides with it. I seemed to be suddenly empty.

"Thank God, that is over." I moved my lips but no real sound emerged. A chill passed through me as I heard more clothing being dropped to the floor. The spectators were hushed for a minute and then tremendous applause broke out. "My God. It's bigger than the other one."............"Get a look at that one." ..............."Have you ever seen one that big-or fat!"

"Give me lots of good oil," a deep voice demanded, "I don't want to hurt our puppy." Despite the good intentions and liberal application of oil, it did hurt. He worked it in slowly, but it was splitting my love canal and I was sure that it bled somewhat. While he inserted it as carefully as possible, I screamed and cried.

I slowed my noise making down, though, when I saw in front of my face the black baseball bat that had just been pulled from my rear. "Clean the shit off it, boy. You got it plenty dirty." The huge penis had, indeed dug out deposits of shit that no one else had touched. I licked it tentatively and made some progress before hearing. "Now, you've got it hard again, puppy. Get ready for a mouth fuck."

So, there was a battering ram at each of my available openings and I yelled in pain a lot more as they went into hard rhythmic fucks. Even this finally came to an end with lots of yelling, laughter and applause, and I collapsed onto the mattress. This lasted only until Rod pushed my face into another bowl of beer.

By now, the beer tasted quite okay and it did help my parched throat. Evidently the guys with more normal sized equipment were hot and horny again, so they made another line and started using me some more. These now seemed so much smaller and I was in pain only when the two black monuments got more exercise. They hurt as much as ever, however, and I involuntarily started screaming and begging when they had returned to my (previously?) semi virginal orifices.

All of this dragged on into the night and morning as I could hear someone leave from time to time. I thanked my lucky stars and eventually passed out.

Now, here I am. I'm lying on a filthy mattress covered with cum, piss, beer, blood and a little shit. The mattress is in the middle of a room that is in shambles. I don't recognize the room, but I'm not going to worry about that.

The brilliant sun obviously has been up for a long time. I hope it is the day immediately after my night of misery. That reminds me, my private pucker hole is no longer private and it is throbbing with constant pain. It must be loose because it is still oozing cum. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to walk again, let alone dance. Will I get fired over this?

As I try to stand up, I notice that I am not sore just in my throat and ass. I ache all over. My legs are unsteady and seem too weak to hold me up. I fall back on to the slimy mattress.

There is a sudden sound at the door and someone burst in. He turns to lock the door and that gives me time to get up despite all my infirmities. "What in the hell are you doing," I burst out.

It is Cisco and he replies, "I'm going to fuck your ass." He lunges at me. My farm-bred instincts, however, take over. I grab him and throw him onto the mattress, "You and whose army," I jeer. At this point, I notice he is crying.

"You let everyone else in the cast," he sobs. "And all three bartenders, as well as the light and sound men. To say nothing of the janitor and his lover, who has an even bigger dick than the janitor." I gasp with the realization of who all made use of my body.

"Why weren't you there," I snarl.

"Because," as the tears come faster and his voice becomes more twisted by sobs, "I love you. I wouldn't have let this happen to you if I was here." I can feel my eyes grow larger. "Lance lured me away by getting me a job dancing at a private party until the sun came up....I need the money."

His body is heaving with the sobs. I ease back onto the mattress and lie beside him. I put my arms around him and try to sooth him-which is hard to do when one is as sore and stiff as I am. "You really mean it don't you? You must really care for me." This brought on violent head shaking, until I held it to my chest. "Sweet thing," I murmured. "You and your lap dance made me want to get into this whole thing. I love you, but didn't know how to go about bringing it to your attention. You always seemed aloof."

He moves his face up and gives me a long, long sweet, gentle kiss. "I was aloof because I didn't want to scare you away."

"If my body wasn't raw hamburger, I sure would give you whatever you have in mind," I whisper. "How about a rain check?"

"You bet!"

"I have some lotion that may help your rectum. Let me go get it." Up like a cat, Cisco dashes from the room. While he is gone, I open the closet door and all my possessions fall out. The bastards had brought me back to my own room, to plunder my body and vandalize my room. Returning with a bottle of lotion, Cisco turns red when he says, "do you want me to apply this, or would you rather do it yourself?"

"I want you to do it . . . and I want you to be around to take care of me from now on!"

"That's what I want to hear, so roll over." He puts the lotion on my body-starting with my stretched anus--with the touch of an angel's feather. Then he gets a different bottle, which contains oil and gives me the gentlest rubdown imaginable. Except for when Cisco goes out for food (soft for me), we spend the rest of the day lying in each other's arms and murmuring sweet nothings. And the night, too.

When we awake, late in the morning, we go out to buy a double bed, lots of linens and demand immediate delivery. This goes in Cisco's room and his single bed is taken to a storeroom. Then I make myself comfortable for the rest of the week while Cisco goes out for food at appropriate moments. On schedule, he has all my things moved into "our" room and my recuperation begins.

A couple of weeks later, when I am well enough, I send Cisco out for burgers and fries, put clean sheets and pillowcases on the bed, and light several candles. Then I take off my clothes and stretch out on the comforting mattress. When Cisco returns, he almost drops the food, but recovers quickly and is removing his shirt as he heads toward me. His slippers and jeans are gone by the time he gets to the bed and his arms are open.

Joining me, he quickly wraps me in his arms and tenderly kisses me all over my face and chest. Dropping to my cock, he begins a gentle sucking. "No," I say, "there's something more special for you now." I wrap my legs around his waist and rub my ass on his straining dick.

"Are you sure you are ready for this?" Cisco asks softly. When I nod at him, that is all he needs. He reaches for the lubricant I had placed on the bedside table. He applies especially generous amounts of the oil in my asshole and on his proud manhood. Then he starts a slow fuck that seems to fit both our needs.

"This," I murmur, "is the way sex ought to be." After that, we use each other's bodies for every gentle, sensual purpose we can think of. We still do, years later, and the sex with the loving lap dancer just gets better than ever.

POSTSCRIPT: Realizing our "dance earnings" days won't last forever, Cisco and I study accounting at a local junior college. With certificates in hand, we then present ourselves to Mr. Glover's uptown office and start the jobs he has arranged for us with his accounting firm. So, we are still together in our double bed, working side by side in the same office, and occasionally filling in on stage together at the old club. We still lick a mean dick, thoroughly suck balls, and electrify the other's love passage: But never with anyone except Peter and Cisco.